#Celebrity-driven ideals

[kiddnamedbryy]

More Than A Like

In a world steeped in the allure of social media and influencer culture, Jessa’s life revolves around emulating the glamorous existence of her favorite influencer, Celeste. Fueled by the desire for validation and belonging, she pours her efforts into crafting the perfect online persona, even at the cost of her real-world stability. However, a chance encounter with a perceptive stranger prompts…

[freshthoughts2020]

[instructionsonback]

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Perfect for fans of retro gaming, pop culture enthusiasts, or collectors of unique, character-driven art, "Big Metal" is a framed original that makes a powerful statement. Its sleek and edgy design is ideal for adding a touch of nostalgia and personality to any space.

Add "Big Metal" to your collection today and celebrate the artistry of a timeless icon.

Signed and dated by the artist. Framed Dimensions: 9"x12" Medium: Colored pencils and markers on high-quality paper.

[venus111]

Astrology observations

🐨 South korea has a Virgo rising, Virgo is ruled by Mercury, which brings a strong focus on criticism, discipline, and perfection. This explains why celebrity dating scandals are treated as a big deal, anything that disrupts the ideal image can be seen as controversial.Even small mistakes or rumors can lead to career damage or public backlash.

🐨 India has a Pisces rising thus why India is the birthplace of many of the world’s major religions and spiritual practices.

🐨 china has a Taurus rising the country is seen as a strong, powerful, and traditionally grounded country, with a rapidly growing economy and an emphasis on economic power and national pride.

🐨Mars in the 4th House individuals may feel the need to assert themselves within the home or family dynamic. They may also have a strong drive to protect their loved ones but can sometimes bring conflict or tension in family matters.

🐨 Lilith in the 3rd House Can Curse Others,Be mindful of what you say because your words can manifest quickly. You might say something in anger, and later, it actually happens. People could start associating your words with bad luck

🐨An Aquarius dominant individuals might be more prone to experiencing electrical phenomena & sudden shocks, if you naturally hold onto more static, your body might act like a capacitor, storing charge until it discharges when you touch something conductive (like a door handle or another person)

🐨 If Venus is in your 12th house, people may secretly admire you without telling you. This placement can also indicate hidden relationships or unspoken romantic feelings.

🐨 Venus in the 6th house attracts love through work & acts of service

🐨 Pluto opposite ascendant people project their fears onto them others either idolize them or treat them as a threat there is no in-between.

🐨 Pisces serial killers often lose touch with reality, killing based on hallucinations, religious beliefs, or fantasies. Many Pisces killers feel like victims and believe they are “avenging” something. Famous serial killer Richard Ramirez (The Night Stalker) claimed he was influenced by Satanic forces.

🐨 Cancer placements kill those closest to them family, lovers, or people they once trusted.Some kill out of revenge or trauma, holding deep grudges for years before acting. Famous serial killer Carl Panzram a deeply resentful killer who blamed his childhood abuse for his violent urges.

🐨 Aquarians are unpredictable killers who may experiment with their murders for fun or intellectual curiosity.they see killing as an experiment or social statement, rather than an emotional act. Famous serial killer Robert Hansen hunted his victims like animals in the Alaskan wilderness.

🐨 Leos enjoy the spotlight, and many of their killings are designed to shock the world.Some taunt police with letters or leave a recognizable pattern behind to gain notoriety. Famous serial killer Jack Unterweger wrote poetry about his killings and manipulated the media into believing he was rehabilitated.

🐨 Taurus killers collect trophies (clothing, jewelry, body parts) to relive their crimes.their murders are sensory driven often involving physical pleasure, slow torture, or ritualistic acts. Famous serial killer Albert Fish a Cannibal and sadist who found pleasure in torturing and eating his victims.

🐨 Capricorn killers treat murder like a business strategy some even kill for profit,they are ruthless and patient, often getting away with their crimes for years. Famous serial killer Dorothea Puente Killed elderly tenants in her boarding house to steal their social security checks.

🐨 Libra killers blend into society easily, charming victims into their traps.they enjoy manipulating others and may keep a double life going for years. Famous serial killer Angelo Buono Jr. (The Hillside Strangler) Murdered with a partner, showing a Libra’s ability to work in pairs.

🐨 Many Gemini serial killers led double lives, fooling their victims and authorities. their crimes often involve deception, tricking people into a false sense of security.famous serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer ( The Milwaukee Cannibal) He manipulated his victims with charm and intelligence before killing them.

🐨 Sagittarius serial killers are restless, always on the move, making them difficult to catch. They tend to taunt police and enjoy the chase, believing they are smarter than the system. Famous serial killer Ted Bundy charming, well-spoken, and constantly changed locations to avoid capture.

🐨 Aries killers are brutal and direct they don’t waste time plotting for years.their killings are often rage driven, sudden, and incredibly violent. Famous serial killer Herbert Mullin Killed 13 people, claiming it was to prevent earthquakes.

🐨 Scorpios are obsessed with power and dominance over their victims. Often sexually violent, they enjoy psychological torment as much as physical violence. Famous serial killer Belle Gunness lured wealthy men into marriage, then murdered them for their money.

🐨 Virgo killers are often well-groomed, polite, and organized, making them hard to suspect. Some kill to fix or control others, showing their deep need for order. Famous serial killer Rodney Alcala (The Dating Game Killer) was highly intelligent and manipulative, appearing on The Dating Game TV show while actively murdering women.

[astrogurujimayanksblog]

Vedic Astrology Observations

Libra Ascendant (18+) Women with Libra rising are often strikingly beautiful, embodying a sense of allure and mystery. This magnetic quality stems from Venus ruling both their 1st and 8th houses. Their seductive and passionate nature makes them inherently attractive, with a strong sexual appeal. Similar traits can be found in women with their 1st house lord in the 8th house or vice versa.

Venus in Leo In my observations of various charts, particularly of models and celebrities, I’ve noted a significant number with Venus in Leo. This placement resonates with the beauty queen archetype, as Leo, ruled by the Sun, shines brightly. These women possess a radiant beauty that draws attention effortlessly, standing out in any crowd.

Aquarius Ascendant Women with Aquarius rising often have an identity tied to deeper, intangible elements, influenced by Saturn ruling both their 1st and 12th houses. This connection can lead to a sense of disconnection from ego-driven ideals, sometimes making them seem out of touch with reality.

Mrigasira Nakshatra Those born under the Mrigasira nakshatra often exhibit a doe-eyed, gentle appearance reminiscent of a deer. This symbolism highlights their sweet demeanor, and I’ve observed that many choose protective hairstyles like braids, which align with the weaving nature of their symbolism. Deers weave into the herd for safety, reflecting a similar instinct in these individuals.

Pisces Ascendant Women with Pisces rising have an innate curiosity about the occult and esoteric knowledge, influenced by Venus ruling their 3rd and 8th houses. Their fascination with mysterious subjects is tinged with romanticism, making their pursuit of knowledge deeply enriching and emotionally profound.

Rahu Conjunct Venus Women with this placement can easily become enraptured by beauty, love, and romantic relationships. They often carry significant karma that teaches them about the complexities of love and beauty. Despite the challenges, their attractiveness and magnetic presence are undeniable.

Saturn Conjunct Venus This placement allows women to let go of unrealistic expectations in love, fostering genuine connections that endure. However, they may grapple with insecurities related to their beauty. Over time, devotion to self-love helps solidify their confidence.

Ardra, Ashlesha, Jyeshta, and Mula Nakshatras These nakshatras embody intense qualities and challenges. Despite the struggles they face, there is a profound beauty in their depth, making them hypnotizing and mystical figures.

Visakha Nakshatra Women with significant placements in Visakha can exhibit intense ambition and a strong streak of obsession, especially regarding partners. When Venus, Mars, or the 7th house lord is involved, this intensity can lead to deep devotion and loyalty.

[phas3d]

Ideal Type || Slytherin Boys

note :: just what i think, but they could honestly be with anyone

members :: mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

Mattheo Riddle

Appearance:

Sharp eyes that could kill him, eye color doesn’t matter to him

Likes people with more meat on them

Goes crazy if he sees you wearing thigh highs or tight underwear so that you have a little bit of a muffin top, he loves that stuff

Loves dark hair, all of his celebrity crushes are brunettes or have black hair

Likes the y2k style and clean girl, he doesn’t know it’s called that but he likes it lmao

Loves long hair but will make an exception for a short black bob

Low rise jeans are his favorite thing ever

Pretty nails are also a pro in his eyes, shows that you’re hygienic - likes longer nails

Plump lips are a major plus

Likes outfits that show skin in some way, so crop tops, dresses, etc

Personality:

Slightly toxic, which is perfect for him since he’s ultra toxic 😍

He’s not willing to change his lifestyle just for a girl, so he needs someone who’s down to party and do the bad stuff he does

Loves confidence, wouldn’t date a girl who’s insecure

People with the wonyongism mindset are literally his dream type, makes him weak in the knees

If you yell back at him or call him out on his shit, oml he’s already planning your wedding

Loves to annoy you just to get a reaction, smth about you being angry draws him in

He likes social people who get along with others easily

A little bit cocky, but if you laugh at his jokes he instantly finds you more attractive

Dedicated and driven people, like not failing classes, having internships, having a job, all of that is so attractive to him

If you listen to: Kali Uchis, Tyler the Creator, Ariana Grande, Travis Scott, The Neighborhood, The Smiths, The Weeknd, BlackPink, Aespa, Beyoncé, you get so many extra points

Theodore Nott

Appearance:

Likes shorter people, which is easy for him since he’s 6’0 (183 cm)

Has a thing for people that are flatter, likes rectangle body types

Long hair is his ideal type but loves curly short hairstyles

Gets flustered when he sees you with your hair up, something about it is so appealing to him

Long lashes and falsies are so pretty in his eyes, loves it

Ballet-core, old-money, and minimalist are what styles he likes best on someone

Lovessss skirts and headbands

Likes people with glasses, but specifically people who wear contacts in public but glasses at home

People with the resting sad face are so beautiful to him

Personality:

Likes introverts or shy people, he likes knowing that you’re a homebody so he doesn’t have to worry about cheating

Nerds omg They’re his secret weakness

He loves book smart-street dumb people, it’s a sense of comfort knowing that you’re not involved in his life style

He’s a fuckboy who smokes and drinks, so you become a safe space for him

Quiet and soft voices are one of his biggest weaknesses

Elegance is also something he needs in a partner, someone who’s aware of their words and their actions

When someone covers their mouth when they laugh - So attractive to him

Caring and nurturing people make him want to cry, please comfort this man

If you listen to: Lana Del Rey, Billie Eilish, Mitski, SZA, Her, Adele, Yerin Baek, Matt Maltese, Radiohead, you get an extra point

Lorenzo Berkshire

Appearance:

Downtown girl, athletic wear, coquette, and other cutesy yet comfortable styles are his idea type

Really loves when someone can dress up in a nice ass outfit and then show up the next day in just a hoodie and bagggyyyy pants

Doesn’t really like tight clothes on his s/o, likes baggy or flowy clothes

Doesn’t care for body type, has dated people on the bigger size and people that were super thin

Loves any facial markings - moles, acne scars, freckles, but esp ance scars

Loves curly and wavy hair, doesn’t care for hair color but does prefer light colors like brown and blonde

Likes girls that look kinda intimidating because of how pretty they are, but are secretly a softie (basically him)

For example, people with a resting bitch face but the second they see something cute they light up

Being shorter than him is fine, but if he’s dead honest he’s always wanted to date a girl taller than him (185 cm+)

Personality:

Bubbly people make him fall so hard

People who are happy almost 24/7 and a little bit stupid and naive is what he loves

Doesn’t care about intelligence much, but doesn’t like people who are failing school

When you’re oblivious to flirting??? Omg he’s done

Wants to feel needed, so you being slightly air headed helps him a lot

Smiling makes him attracted to someone instantly, so constantly smiling and laughing makes him feel the same way

Loves people with a tad bit of sass to them, like eye rolls and stuff

Playful people who agree to do dumb shit with him suits his ideal lifestyle

Someone’s who funny, cause if I’m fr this man is not that funny. He def gets with someone who’s funny

He def had way too many crushes on manic pixie dream girls, so he kinda likes the chase

Likes people who are so free spirited that it’s hard to tie to them

If you listen to: Wave2Earth, Kpop, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Beabadoobee, Sarah Kinsley, Faye Webster, it’s an extra plus for him

[theblackfemininesociety]

It’s a NEW YEAR besties,

We know you ladies are booked and busy with New Year resolutions, goals and plans to prosper (or we hope you are!) we just want to step in and remind you that BALANCE is the key to avoiding burnout and remain in your feminine energy.

Tip #1: Quiet Time With God

We will always encourage you to stay close to God and build a relationship with Him. Seek and you will find! Go to that quiet place and dwell in the Spirit of the Lord and the Word. The Bible teaches so much about life and even femininity! Here at BFS we know Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. We will do a deep dive on femininity and the Bible soon! So stay tuned for more!

Tip #2: Plan It Out!

January is the perfect time to start using a planner! We need you to become the kind of woman that is always taking a moment to write down and plan out her days, weeks and even hours to stay focused, productive and balanced !

Utilizing a planner not only keeps you organized but also establishes a routine that transforms you into the woman you've always envisioned. By planning, you can schedule meaningful moments of self-care, ensuring you prioritize your well-being and happiness.

Tip #3: Self-Care Days Are Mandatory!

This is a rule we hold all of the sisters of BFS to! You MUST have self-care days where you love on yourself and get away from life for a moment, a day, or even a weekend. This is key to remaining a soft woman in tune with her femininity as you balance life!

Prioritize your self-care in whatever way feels right for you, ignoring the consumer-driven videos on TikTok promoting an ideal skincare routine. Self-care days are unique to each woman. Concentrate on practices and rituals that acquire reflection, alleviate stress and anxiety, and promote relaxation ! This is a crucial part of you remaining in your feminine energy while balancing life.

You need some self lovin ME TIME! this non negotiable and make sure you romanticize this time. Spice it up a little, try a new recipe or plan a certain genre of music, put on some nice pj’s or even buy flowers.

Tip #4: Set Boundaries!

Assess Your Priorities! Regularly evaluate what’s important to you and learn to say NO to commitments that drain your energy or don’t align with your values.

Practice how to Communicate Clearly — Be honest with others about your needs. Clear communication encourages others to have respect for your boundaries. If they cannot do so, then you know they do not deserve to be in your life!

Tip #5: Seek Supportive Relationships (Don’t Be Afraid To Ask For Help)

Build Your Girl Gang — Surround yourself with friends who empower and support you. Engage in deep conversations and share experiences that nurture your spirit. We are so passionate to give Black Women a safe space so much so that we created “The Ladies Room” a Groupchat of like minded woman, ready to support, encourage and hold each other accountable! Click Here to Join

Tip #6: Balance Masculine and Feminine Energies

Take a moment to appreciate the good things in both sides of your personality. It’s important to be assertive when you need to, but don’t forget to be open and nurturing too. Know when to trust your gut and embrace your intuition, and when it’s time to take charge and be assertive. Finding this balance can really improve how you handle things overall!

Tip #7: Celebrate Your Femininity

Start by dressing for yourself! Wear clothes that make you feel beautiful, confident, and feminine, regardless of the occasion. Then, engage in Feminine Hobbies, explore activities traditionally associated with femininity, such as baking, sewing, or floral arranging, that resonate with you. This helps with not only tapping into your femininity but also giving you tools and outlets needed when you feel like life is too overwhelming!

Were basically besties now!

Follow us on: Instagram • Facebook • TikTok

[graveomens]

🌙 How to Nurture Your Moon Sign 🌙

✨ Aries Moon: You’re driven by a need for action and independence. Physical outlets like running, martial arts, or hands-on creative projects help release built-up tension and keep you emotionally grounded. Don’t forget to pause and celebrate your wins, no matter how small—your adventurous spirit thrives on progress and bold moves! 🔥

✨ Taurus Moon: Your emotional world is centered around comfort and stability. Surround yourself with soft textures, soothing sounds, and a sense of calm. Treat yourself to nourishing meals, take leisurely walks in nature, and allow yourself to indulge in life’s simple pleasures. Creating a sanctuary of peace helps you feel secure. 🌿

✨ Gemini Moon: Your mind craves constant stimulation, and emotional balance comes from variety. Dive into books, podcasts, and deep conversations that expand your thinking. Journaling can help you sort through emotions, especially when you express them through words. Keep your environment flexible and engaging to maintain a sense of emotional freedom. 📝

✨ Cancer Moon: Your emotional landscape is deeply tied to your sense of home and belonging. Spend time with people who nurture you, and allow yourself to retreat into the comfort of familiar spaces. Whether through a heartfelt conversation or simply curling up in a cozy corner, honoring your emotional rhythms will replenish your spirit. 🏡

✨ Leo Moon: You shine brightest when you have the space to express your creativity and bask in admiration. Whether you’re dancing, painting, or hosting a gathering, find ways to put your heart on display. Celebrate yourself often, and don’t shy away from a little luxury—it feeds your emotional warmth. 🌟

✨ Virgo Moon: You feel most emotionally at ease when things are organized and purposeful. Self-care for you might look like cleaning, decluttering, or setting routines that make you feel productive and in control. Engaging in projects that allow you to track your progress will offer you a sense of accomplishment and emotional fulfillment. 🧘‍♀️

✨ Libra Moon: Harmony and beauty are essential to your emotional well-being. Surround yourself with art, music, and people who bring balance to your life. Creating aesthetically pleasing environments and spending time in peaceful, reciprocal relationships will help you feel grounded and emotionally secure. 🎨

✨ Scorpio Moon: You’re not afraid to dive deep into your emotional undercurrents. Nurture yourself by engaging in journaling, shadow work, or meditation to explore your inner world. Trust and intimacy with loved ones will be your emotional anchor, allowing you to transform through the depths of your experiences. 🔮

✨ Sagittarius Moon: Your emotional nourishment comes from freedom and adventure. Whether it’s traveling, taking on new challenges, or engaging in philosophical discussions, you need the space to explore the world and reflect on life’s bigger questions. Feed your soul by embracing your sense of wanderlust. 🌍

✨ Capricorn Moon: You find emotional security in structure and achievement. Setting long-term goals and working towards them steadily helps you feel grounded. Routine and discipline bring you comfort, but don’t forget to celebrate small accomplishments along the way—each step forward adds to your emotional resilience. 🎯

✨ Aquarius Moon: You thrive on independence and innovation. Engaging in unique, future-focused projects or connecting with like-minded groups will nurture your need for emotional freedom. Give yourself space to think outside the box and explore unconventional ideas that align with your ideals. 💡

✨ Pisces Moon: Your emotional world is rich with imagination and sensitivity. Immersing yourself in creative and spiritual practices like meditation, music, or quiet reflection will help soothe your soul. Allow yourself to daydream and escape into your inner world—it’s where you find your deepest sense of peace. 🌊

[unholyhelbig]

Girl, when you gonna stop talking and start posting Caitvi??

Title: One Enchanted Evening

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Main Masterlist

Summary: The year is 1945 and Caitlyn Kiramman knows that Violent Lanes is meant to be seen by design when The Circus of Zaun rolls into town. The garish production stands out among the perfect southern town of Piltover, much to her father's dismay. Caitlyn can't help but fall for the magical pull of a world so different from her own, despite the secrets that lie just behind the striped tents and sweet-scented air.

Warnings: Blood, religious trauma, punching, abuse, drug abuse (Shimmer ofc), religious idealizations, snakes, use of the word freak in a derogatory way, general violence, let me know if I'm missing anything pls. [Obviously did not proofread so, that's a given one]

[A/n: Shockingly enough, I've never written for Cait and Vi before but I've spent the last month absolutely devouring all the arcane content so it was only a matter of time, don't you think?]

The attic carried a touch of spice that was reminiscent of clove, or perhaps it was cinnamon. It was familiar and warmed Caitlyn Kiramman with each breath she took. Stilted air that was seeped with warm sunlight through slatted blinds. Not much came through the oval window, all radiated from the pulpit below, packed with bodies much like a tin of sardines festering in oil and vinegar.

Sweat beaded against her brow, and she padded at it with the cloth folded neatly on the desk next to her. Caitlyn could feel the dampness at the back of her neck, the thin fabric of her shirt clinging to her back. She darted her tongue out and collected the salty taste from her upper lip, making sure she didn’t soil the paper she was working so diligently on. No, that wouldn’t do.

Her bare toes dug into the wine-colored carpet, damp and musty. She sat back carefully in the chair, her movements calculated as she stared through the wooden slats to the street below. The sun was awfully unforgiving for the time of day, just like it usually was through morning sermons when she was meant to mind her noise.

The sky was a clear blue, cloudless and a stark contrast to the sea of green that lined both sides of the single dirt road that led in and out of the town of Piltover. The church sat at the highest point on the hill, giving Caitlynn a view of Main Street. It boasted a capital building, a bakery, bookstore, hardware store, grocery, beauty parlor, and more that she could make out through the waves of heat if she squinted.

The town branched off into modest homes, and a fairground that hosted rodeos and cattle contests. Most importantly, they allowed the Kiramman family residency when the building they occupied now became overcrowded: Christmas celebrations, and Easters when too many children occupied the pews and weren’t corralled into a separate bible study.

Caitlyn longed for a day like that, a gulp of fresh air instead of stale recycled breathes.

When her hand became too slick to hold her pen correctly, she calmly set it down, swiping her palms on her pants to wick away some of the moisture. Each word needed to be legible. She could not afford to start over. Her mind felt muzzy, and her mouth was dry. She’d licked her upper-lip raw. 

It was the caravan that caught her attention first. Had it not been for the ugly growl it released, she’d of thought it just a heat-driven hallucination. Piltover was off the beaten path, a small southern town that one did not just stumble into, but people got turned around often enough.

Caitlyn stopped her musings once in a blue moon to track a car through the length of Main Street and that was often the end of it. What she witnessed now was different. This was a long line of cars, trucks, and trailers that hauled something. A production, perhaps, something that the likes of Piltover had never been privy to before. Something that would absolutely enrage her father.

Dozens of trailers attached to beaten down trucks, and wooden crates that carried things Caitlyn could only imagine in her wildest dreams. They chugged and hissed and tugged along like a band of feral animals.

She could only hope that the racket drowned out the noise of her pen rolling from her desk and clattering to the red carpeted floor with a dull thud.

If there was a God, he could spare her just this once.

The sweltering heat of the day rang true despite the sun just beginning to peak over the towns horizon. A white light grazing the tops of trees as they swayed gently in a warm southern wind. Vi didn’t care much for the weather down south, nor the noxious scent of the soil that filled her lungs each time she took a methodical breath.

Her sister’s lanky legs crowded the dash, body crunched up in the passenger seat of the old ford uncomfortably. She could sleep anywhere, soft snores and one cheek facing the open window. A redness adorned her skin, a maze of irritation around freckles.

The car jerked as she hit a chalky pothole, following the rest of the convoy towards their destination. Her fingers drummed on the wheel, powder-blue eyes watching the radio as Isha’s little hands moved forward and tried, yet again, to find a station.

‘The lord, they say he accepts all, the freakish, the deformed, and the damned’ The crackly words rushed through the old speakers of the truck. Isha steadied her helmet on her head and Vi darted her tongue out over the scarred split on her lip. ‘Here in Piltover we believe quite the same, yessir we do, with opened arms. We mold them in our image. We show them the light, guide them with a warm hand. Show them the ways of our mighty fine town. Isn’t that right?’

Vi reached out and shut off the radio before the righteous man could continue his spewing. They had been traveling the bible belt long enough to know that they were not everyone’s cup of tea. Isha didn’t need to hear any rhetoric and Jinx, even in her unconscious state, seemed to have an on-button that was linked to the word ‘freak’.

She’d been driving through the night and her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. She didn’t’ have it in her to nod along and soothe the blue-haired-girls’ ramblings. To many, that’s exactly what they were. Freaks. It’s why people flocked by the dozen and thew money at them. They were a spectacle.

Vi fished the rolled cigarette from behind her ear and struck a match against the coarse leather of the dashboard. The sweet scent of smoke filled the cab, and she inhaled until her throat burned and her eyes watered. It would be enough to keep her awake until they reached their endpoint.

Isha huffed as they passed another flashy billboard for the very church they’d just silenced. The Kiramman dynasty and their damned oil painting had stared menacingly at them on most of the freeways once they crossed the state line and seemed to pockmark every turn since, even the dirt roads.

“Yeah kid, I think they’re assholes too.” Vi breathed out around the smoke, “The real freaks in these parts.”

She smiled, gap-toothed and crooked. Another pothole and her helmet slipped down and blocked her vision entirely, shaking the truck enough to stir Jinx from her tepid sleep. She groaned and breathed in the clove scent of the cigarette, the heat of the day.

By the time she’d popped all of her bones into submission they’d rolled into the fairgrounds that would be their home for the next two months. It looked much like the others that they’d inhabited, large enough for the whole spectacle.

Vi expertly parked the airstream next to the dozens of others, thankful for the mercy of shade and a chance to stretch her legs, even if she was met with stale air when she cracked the door of the attached trailer open in habit. She Shared the cramped living quarters with Jinx and Isha and sometimes Ekko if he was too blitzed to make it back to his own place.

She’d long ago gotten used to the different odors and liquids that came with her co-inhabitants on the road. Transients were not cleanly, nor were they polite, but they were at the very least respectful of their belongings and space. There was a habit to the Circus of Zaun. A pecking order. A well-oiled-machine.

They did not deviate.

The Lanes trailer was always on the end, closest to the town that they were stationed at. It was the nicest, the prettiest to look at; a shiny and beautiful silver that hadn’t been rusted over from the elements yet. If anyone from town took trouble with the Circus of Zaun, they’d take trouble with Vander Lanes and his hellishly strong and strange spawn.

Vander flitted around the fairgrounds themselves, a phantom among clown alley, the back yard, or the cook house. It was nearly impossible to track him down unless he caught a whiff of trouble. Then his solid form would conjure, and a meaty hand would press down hard on a shoulder when he was needed most.

Vander was not meant to be pushed and prodded, not with anything smaller than a broad prejudice and community pushback that was stronger than the ever-rising sun and pushing heat. That had shifted to his eldest. The Circus of Zaun’s resident Adonis.

“Violet!”

Her muscles tensed, forehead pressing against the reflective metal of the airstream. She instantly jerked back. Mistake- the heat unbearable, the burn impossible to handle. Isha hadn’t peeled herself from the leather of the Ford by the time the first demand was rolling Vi’s way, which was a personal record.

Overly warm hands grasped onto her bare arms. Somehow, they held more heat than the summer day. She could smell the fruity gum that matched the sweet voice that molded around it. Any annoyance ebbed away as she turned her head, thinning her scarred lips into a line. “Yes, Lux?”

“I didn’t want to bother your daddy none, but” her voice was hushed, voice thick and southern, nose pressed right to the tattoo under Vi’s eye. She constricted her hold, worrying her bottom lip.

“Out with it, already. I’m sweating bullets.”

She whispered rapidly “I lost popcorn.”

“You… lost popcorn?”

Lux let out an indignant squeak and buried her nose in the crook of Vi’s neck. It was thankfully a cool relief from the rest of her. The larger woman stiffly patted her on the back in a form of comfort, clenching her jaw.

It was unfathomable, really, losing a ten-foot albino Burmese python. They were meant to cage all of the live animals during travel for this exact reason. Lux had a special attachment to her snakes, especially popcorn. The reptile curled against her oiled skin as she eased swords down her throat, swallowed fire, ran her fingers across greased scales.

She valued physical contact. Clung to Vi now to ease her troubles. Tears soaked into her cotton tank top and the jaded pats on the back became more genuine, if not for a moment. “Relax, Lux. She couldn’t have gone far. We’ll find her.”

“Before Silco?”

Vi made a non-committal noise, one that was still a tad supportive all the same. While Vander would be furious about the escapee, Silco wouldn’t hesitate to take the sharp end of his cane and sever the head from the rest of the snake.

“She likes to curl up in dark places, right?” Vi dislodged Lux from her side “You check with the rousts, see if she’s mixed up in the wheel wells of the tent canvas’s. I’ll edge the alley way.”

As carefully as possible, of course. It would easy for Silco to slip into the shadows now that the engines were cooling. He kept his hands clean and wrapped in leather gloves, puffing blue smoke. He’d lay cards with Sevika. Occasionally Jinx.

He claimed the sun gave him a headache and he wanted to be at his peak for the show, putting on his absolute best for the crowd. It was important for the ring master to captivate the audience, the guide them, to keep them wrapped around his little finger.

Vi didn’t’ buy it. She never had. Silco wasn’t fond of her.

“What if he does… kill her, I mean. I’ll never forgive myself Violet. I’ve had her since she was a baby. Bought her off some guy in Greensboro when she could fit in the palm of my hand.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Vi wiped the sweat from her face with the bottom of her tank top, saturating the fabric, the next sentence felt blocky in her mouth. “I’ll kick his ass before he lays a hand on Popcorn.”  

The bruiser gave the contortionist another parting squeeze, letting the corner of her lip quirk up in a semblance of a smile before she backed away into the baking sun. How hard could it be to find a snake in the sweltering heat?

Caitlyn had bitten blood into her mouth by the time the rumbling Buick that she recognized as the Young Families. The red paint was muted, didn’t shine as brightly as the rest of the dynasties. Her father took his time helping young Viktor to his place against the white leather seating.

He shook Issac’s hand with fervor, cupping his elbow and nodding solemnly. It was a ritual, a broken promise that things would get better- that Viktors muscles would grow stronger with the power of prayer.

Though, he seemed to grow lither with each Sunday, the lack of sunlight making his skin paper thin, the dark circles under his eyes pulling him deeper into the bony hands of the earth. His coughs rattled through the church, attracted the brittle stare of Tobias.

Caitlyn could hear it through the cracks in the attic floor. She ached for Viktor. The swampy breaths she dared to pull into her own lungs did not crackle as his did. She often wondered if he would like to trade places with her, then quickly squashed the thought. What a silly thought it was.

The creaking of the stairs signaled her quick demise. She scrambled as much as her lanky, sweaty, body would allow. She hadn’t had a sip of water since the early morning light and struggled to move, to push in her chair and stand with her back to it.

The ancient lock turned the key in the door and her shoulders flinched before they steeled. Tobias Kiramman had the same azure gaze as Caitlyn did. It was guarded and cold but did nothing to stop the beads of sweat that poured down her face now. She attempted to swallow but was met with dust.

“The strangest thing happened,” his polished wingtip shoes sunk into the musted carpet like quicksand. “I was deep into my sermon, regaling my wonderful congregation about facing the giants within when something rattled from above.”

Caitlyn knew better than to speak. A drop of dampness was at his temple, riding the wave of the vein giving away his frustration. Her father hated nothing more than his thoughts being muddled. He stepped close enough for her to smell the cut of his aftershave, see the uneven job of his blade in his haste this morning.

His calloused hand shot out with the quickness of a snake and grabbed onto her face. Squeezing her cheeks with enough force that her molars cut stingingly into her skin. The taste of metal recoated her tongue and gave her something tangible to swallow.

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places"

Ephesians 6:12. She knew it. She had written the sermon that he preached from his chest and with so much confidence. She wrote every sermon without fail. Tobias believed that pain and suffering motivated a flawless performance, locked her away like a princess in a tower to sweat it out of her.

She found an odd solace in the silence it provided. If she was up here, choking on the heat and the word of the lord, then she was away from his silvery gaze. He craved quiet and quiet she was not. The older she got, the more defiant she became. Caitlyn knew that she scared him, in rare moments when rage overtook her. Now was not one of those times. She was limp in his arms. Too wrung out to fight.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, girl?” He spit it like a slur, shoving her back and into the desk. The wood of the hand carved chair struck her spine and jolted pain up to her neck. She stuttered out a breath.

“There’s a circus.” Caitlyn deflected, reveling in the quick quirk of his brow. She dragged her pale, shaking hand across the rusted blood on her lips. If she looked too closely at the Rorschach stain it would make her dizzy. “At the fairgrounds. I apologize. It caught me off guard.”

He made a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat and gazed out at main street. Seraphine’s Dinner was packed with vehicles that had just left service, others filling up on groceries and gas. Piltover was coming alive. They were noticing the tents that were growing on the backdrop of the fairgrounds, quick to rise, quick to dominate.

He mused aloud, voice holding a true southern wonder “Now, I wonder if Mayor Medarda approved of this. Did Mel say anything?”

“No, Sir. She didn’t.”

“Simple tourism isn’t enough these days.” Tobias tsked, shaking his head. “It’s a shame a city with as much prestige as this has to resort to simple party tricks and vermin to drum up revenue.”

Caitlyn did not speak but released the smallest of breaths. It wasn’t relief, maybe the smallest bit of hope. He had forgotten his earlier anger for the fallen pen. The interruption for the very sermon that she had scrawled the week before. It was haste. A mistake that she should have been more wary of.

Tobias squinted through the sun-spotted window. A trio of children rode their bikes along the sidewalk. Two men spoke in an animated argument on the courthouse steps. Camille Brackern dropped her keys as she struggled to open the doors of her bookstore, not once, but twice.

Caitlyn’s father struck her with the back of hand. Hitting her with enough force to knock her to the thick red carpet. A grunt pushed past her lips, her nose breathing in the rancid scent of the floor. His class ring cutting into her cheek and spilling blood. She blinked the white spots from her eyes and focused on the poorly tied laces of the shoes she’d shined that morning.

“Mind your manners, Dear Caitlyn.” he said stiffly, walking towards the door as she panted deftly trying to find her bearings. “For I do not wish to wrestle against my own flesh and blood.”

There was a distinct darkness that fell over Vi the second she entered the brawn of the Alleyway. Circ’s enjoyed their privacy where they could salvage it. They savored awnings and large pieces of tin that they could fasten between trailers and caravans that would create a town of sorts. Long stretches of land that would waft with different scents and lifestyles.

Each step impeded property. Vi didn’t push the boundaries of strays. They bared their teeth and licked their jowls. Mostly bark but with a few that nipped what skin she did agree to bare, which was not much.

There were faces she had been raised with, but there were those that were naive enough to think they wanted this. Most of the time, they were hopped up on shimmer. Their eyes would glow a demon pink and their lips would be chapped in a maze of blood. Vi stayed far away from them. Far away from the deeper parts of the Alleyway.

Silco, she was sure, supplied their dirty habit and led the roustabouts like a pack of hungry hounds.

God, help Popcorn.

Her boots crunched against the gravel. They’d set up just as fast as Vi had. The crackle of a portable radio tickled her ears in the filtered light, the shade drying the sweat to something taut on her shoulders. Her nose picked up the scent of grease slapped into a pan, spam frying up with fresh ranged eggs.

Her stomach clenched in hunger. She’d swallowed a few mouthfuls of sour candy that Jinx had bought somewhere along the side of the road, and it scorched her throat now. Grey eyes flitted about restlessly. It would be foolish to drop to her knees and search the grassy canals for the writhing creature.

Vi held her shoulders back and walked with an heir of confidence. Her Circus. Her Zaun. Her livelihood. Her Circus. Her Zaun. Her livelihood.

Under it all was the cool realization that Silco held a darker control. He pedaled the drugs that Vander was too trusting to see. His heart was too tender, his smile too wide. She knew that foolishness was reserved for those tacked onto the worst jobs in the company, but it ran deeper than even she wanted to admit.

She walked deeper, breathed shorter. She was feeling lightheaded. Blush eyes tracked her from darkened trailers, peering past speckled windows. She did not look away. How could she? Their stares were normal in the light. They shined in a way that convinced the patrons that everything was fun. Everything was fine. That it was okay to smile.

There were no cracks in the exterior. The Circus of Zaun shimmered. Of course, it did. Silco and Vander made damn sure of it in different ways that Vi turned her back to in degrees that she wasn’t proud of. Money exchanged hands and blood was spilled. It wasn’t of her concern. Not until a slow-witted serpent named after a fair food slithered away.

A cold hand clamped down on her shoulder, heavy and unmoving. Panic moved through Vi, rancid inhale catching in her chest. She moved quickly and slammed the stranger against the nearest caravan. The white tin crunched when Vi pushed the length of her arm across the offenders chest.

Sevika was effectively pinned, a goofy smile on her face. The woman towered over Vi, but they were equally matched in strength. She would be unable to handle the elephants if it were any other case. She commanded them with too much ease to provide the brawler with any comfort.

Vi pushed her boot into the mud, giving her a critical glare. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“You’re the one that’s got me pinned. What are you doing so far back in the Alleyway, Vi?”

Every part of her that was pressed against Sevika suddenly felt like it was muzzy. She peeled herself away as if burred. The woman smelled smokey, ashen. She was wearing a set of muddied cargo pants and a white shirt, speckled in the same dirt. A piece of straw that she typically provided her animals hung loosely from her plump lips, she used her tongue to sweep it from one side to the other, sneering down at Vi.

“I can go wherever the hell I want.”

“Mm,” She hummed, taking a step forward. Vi hated the way she instinctively took a step back. “Your daddy know you’re back here?”

“I’m looking for something.”

Vi ducked her chin down and slammed into Sevika’s shoulder as she continued her journey down the designated path. Her eyes swept along the welcome mats and the flags that boasted about different cities, hometowns most likely forgotten. Another wave of hunger hit her when she inhaled something that was scented of Italian origin.

“Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, Vi. Thought it was only your sister.”

Her boots came to a squelching stop in the tarred mud, fingers digging into her palms. Little half-moons stinging into the pale ripe flesh. Her eyes fluttered close for a moment too long and Sevika’s hulking heat was closer than it was a moment before.

She needed a moment to steady herself, chest suddenly tight and aflame. She’d felt this once before, this choking desperation to locate a pocket of air where one was not present. She was with Claggor, Mylo and Lux’s own brother, Garen.

They were so sure that they had figured out the headline act in the Water Cell escapist trick. Garen had watched his uncle escape countless times before and had walked Vi through it. She hadn’t expected the water to be so cloudy, so frigid. The restraints around her ankles were tighter than she expected and her muscles contracted and cramped in an odd way that made her pull water into her lungs.

By the time Vander pulled her from the tank, she had lost consciousness and was spewing a mix of bile and water onto the dirt floor. She had never been so terrified, trembling in his large, steady arms. She’d scratched pink lines into his skin, clung to him as if she’d never find solace on solid ground again.

Vi turned her head, clenched her jaw, voice a low menacing growl. “What did you say?”

“Don’t tell me Jinx already sped through her last supply?” Sevika tutted, rounding on Vi once more. She didn’t want to look at her, clenching her eyes shut. She was afraid she’d cave in the woman’s jaw if she opened them. “And sending her sister into the ways for a second dose in a week. Now that’s just pathetic.”

There was a calm, rational way to deal with this and it wasn’t in the Alleyways. She didn’t trust Sevika as far as she could throw her. The woman wanted to rile Vi up. They’d often brawl once she was one or two drinks in. Two towns back, Vi had sent her through a crate of apples for looking at her the wrong way.

Loris had to separate them before more fists were thrown. It gave Vi a sick sense of satisfaction that the scab above the woman’s eyebrow was still sporting a nasty yellow puss. Part of her wanted to file this taunt away for later, but it still nagged at the edges of her mind dangerously.

“Jinx isn’t on shimmer,” she scoffed. “You’re full of shit.”

“You’re more than welcome to ask Silco yourself. Or you can pull up a sleeve. Peer into her eyes. I know you’ve gotten knocked on your ass more times than you can count but there must be something left in that thick skull of yours.”

Sevika crouched close enough that Vi could smell the steaming whiskey on her breath, could feel the tickle of the hay clamped between her teeth. There was a sweetness to her odor that made her want to vomit. “She’s a pusher, just like your mama was. Nothing but a sump rat.”

An undeniable rage boiled up inside her, so potent that it made her see red before it made her see nothing at all. Vi moved her head forward and slammed it into Sevika’s with enough force to drop the woman into the mud, flat on her back. A pile of pure muscle and contempt.

She saw stars for a moment, flashing in front of her vision. A wave of nausea hit her that she quickly swallowed back, blinking up at the tin roof that shielded her from the harsh light of the sun.

Vi’s chest rumbled as caught her breath, perfectly content to leave Sevika here until someone found her and dragged her back to her own hobble to stave off whatever headache came crashing down.

A shrill shriek moved through the Alleyway, a few trailers down. A roustabout, she was sure. “A snake! Oh my god! A snake!”

“Fucking hell,”

 Vi’s pounding head dropped, her fingers squeezing the bridge of her nose. She needed a moment before she stepped over Sevika’s hulking frame to claim her prize. At least the woman was right about one thing. Violet Lanes had a fucking thick skull.

[irisintheafterglow]

love me from your point of view

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: ariana grande - "pov"

summary: you teach sakusa kiyoomi how to love, in spite of the cameras and the gossip.

wc: 8.45k

cw/tags: pro!sakusa x rockstar!reader, fem!reader in mind but no specific pronouns used, strangers to lovers, character study, explicit language, minor injury (blood/glass tw), mentions of drinking and alcohol, angst with happy ending <3

note: this is my contribution for the lovely sel's "and there's something, this feeling" collab to celebrate one year of @seiwas ! this is the longest fic i've written to date because i tried my best to go a character-driven route that i've always admired sel for rather than my usual plot-driven route. i hope you like this and happiest of anniversaries my wonderful sel :))))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated :) check out the rest of sel's event here!

Sakusa Kiyoomi hated cameras. Unfortunately, in his line of work, they were essentially gnats buzzing constantly around his head. They were always trying to make him do something, look here or there, pose with his shoulders angling this way or that. After the commands came the interrogations, nosy reporters sniffing around his private life for something sellable. Then there were the phone cameras and the fans behind them, and they could be a hit or miss depending on if they respected his boundaries. When he was in highschool, he could get away with avoiding socialization; but now, as a striker for one of the most famous teams in the country, socialization was a required skill. 

“I’m happy you agreed to go with us, Sakusa,” Bokuto says for the fifth time since they parked at the venue in the heart of Tokyo. It was a little irritating, the way they kept thanking him for his presence like he’d back out if they didn’t continue expressing their gratitude. He couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to; Atsumu insisted on being the one behind the wheel and the car narrowly avoided a collision after Hinata said he’d missed the exit. “We know you’re still a little grumpy because of the drive, so don’t feel the need to talk to us right now.” 

“Hey, if you wanted to leave so badly, you could just call a car,” Atsumu points out, “but I know you secretly like spending time with us.” Sakusa fixes his teammate with a stare that could be perceived as a grimace, but his friends know him better than that. Sakusa wasn’t angry, he was bored. It was originally Bokuto and Hinata’s idea to see some artist he didn’t listen to in concert, saying that it was ‘a once in a lifetime experience’ and that the artist hadn’t played in the country in over a decade. He was vaguely aware of some songs, mostly because his teammates cranked the speaker volume during conditioning. Still, it wasn’t his ideal Saturday night, especially before a big game. “And, guess what?”

“Holy shit, box seats!” 

“We have our own bathroom!” Bokuto and Hinata’s shouts of excitement drown out the rest of Atsumu’s sentence and the security guards are barely able to open the doors as they tumble into the private section. 

“Yo, Shoyo. Be careful of that railing or you’ll fall into the general audience,” Atsumu warns while Hinata willfully ignores him, staring out over the crowds slowly filing into their seats. “Pretty cool, ain’t it?” Sakusa nods once, approaching the balcony and then deciding against it when he catches the telltale flash of a phone camera. Like clockwork, he and the other Jackals would be on every update page within ten minutes. A small object appears from behind the balcony wall, floating upwards in a thin arc before falling back to the seats below.

“The hell are they doing?”

“Sakusa, fans are trying to give us bracelets,” Bokuto beams, holding up his forearm halfway-covered in colorful beads. “Apparently it’s a tradition with this artist.”

“I don’t like gifts,” Sakusa deadpans, his mouth taut in a frown. “Tell them I can’t take it.”

“Too late,” Atsumu says, snagging a vibrant purple bracelet as it’s tossed upwards. He looks down at the eager fans below and claps, gesturing for them to throw more. “We’re already taking ‘em, so they’re gonna wonder why you’re not taking them too.”

“If they’re real fans, they’ll know I don’t like gifts,” he counters with narrowed eyes. 

“C’mon, Sakusa. Take one, at least,” Hinata says. His shorter teammate carefully pulls one off and slides it onto his wrist. The pattern alternates between yellow and lime green beads, with letter beads in the center spelling ‘NOKMLYDANOEW.’ It looked like Bokuto and Akaashi’s cat stepped on their computer keyboard. “The letters are an acronym for a song, I think. It’s an inside thing with the artist,” Hinata explains, leaning his bracelet-covered arms against the railing and waving to excited fans. 

“I’m gonna see if they have time to meet us backstage. The fans’ll go berserk.” Bokuto’s words make Sakusa’s eye twitch involuntarily. Staying longer than expected of him was a surefire way to make him irritated and they knew that. 

“Yeah, they’re not the only ones who will benefit from a little meet and greet,” Atsumu whispers cryptically and it’s impossible not to see the way he looks Sakusa up and down. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about it, man,” Bokuto reassures him with a pat on the back, but he doesn’t budge. 

“No, I’m interested. What’re you on about, Miya?” 

“Trust us, it’s nothing!”

“Just grab a soju and relax, Sakusa–”

“They’re trying to set you up with the artist!” Sakusa flinches, turning slowly to his teammates that shrink away like vampires in direct sunlight. Hinata looks mortified, his hands slapped over his mouth as if to seal off what was already revealed. Atsumu and Bokuto shrug, giving him guilty smiles and showing their palms to convey their surrender. “That’s…that’s what they were talking about before we picked you up,” Hinata continues sheepishly. 

“This whole thing is a blind date?” He seethes through gritted teeth, the lights of the stadium starting to give him a migraine. “You guys brought me here to set me up?” 

“All we’re trying to do is have you meet someone new,” Atsumu says gently, stepping forward and then abruptly backward when Sakusa looks like he’s about to commit a homicide. “We think it’ll be good for you.” 

“I don’t care about new people. I have work and you idiots to keep me busy,” Sakusa argues, crossing his arms over his chest. The beads on his arm press into his skin and he fights the urge to rip the entire thing off. “Why would I wanna meet some musician I don’t listen to?” 

“Even if you don’t listen to their music,” Bokuto replies without hesitation, “You should read through their lyrics sometime; I think you’ll find a lot of stuff you can relate to. I bet they get just as much bad publicity as we do.” 

“As if,” he scoffs. “I don’t need someone with a purple guitar telling me what I think.” 

—

“You said there were volleyball guys in attendance, right? If they’re still here, I should probably meet them,” you say to your publicist as you step out from the automatic riser that brought you below the stage following the last song of the show. The sound of your platform boots echo on the linoleum in the back halls of the stadium, your exit music faintly audible from above. “Who are they?” 

“There’s four in total, along with some managers and press. They’re on a team called the MSBY Jackals, with an outstanding record in the sport. From what I’ve seen, three of them are pretty nice.” The two of you, along with a handful of security guards, climb into a waiting golf cart. 

“And the other one?” 

“Toss-up. He might not even talk to you.” You take a sip from your water bottle and briefly glance at the photo your publicist has pulled up on her phone. You can guess which one is the quiet one from his face in the photo alone, staring blankly at the camera while his other teammates smile brightly. 

“He looks like he’d kill me in my sleep,” you observe bluntly. “The type of serial killer people make fan accounts about.” 

“In his defense, I don’t think this is his type of crowd,” she shrugs, her attention flicking to the way you stretch your legs in the seat of the small vehicle. “Sore?”

“Beyond belief,” you chuckle, wincing as a small stab of pain shoots through your calf. “I think I might need a little more padding on the soles, if possible. Chunky heels, in all their wonder, were not made for three hour shows.”

“I’ll see what I can do. You focus on turning back on for the players.” 

After a few more minutes of sipping water and stretching out your legs in the backseat of the golf cart, you pull up to the loading dock where the four athletes are waiting. Two of them, one with iced tips and the other with vibrantly orange hair, practically jump in place when you arrive. The grumpy one lingers at the back of the group; the blonde player extends his hand to you as you step out. 

“Thank you so much.” You greet them with a practiced smile and hope your exhaustion isn’t too visible. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I couldn’t stop screaming the entire time and I think my voice is shot.” 

“You are incredibly talented.” 

“It was wonderful!” 

“Oh, I’m so glad. It’s such a pleasure to meet you all,” you say warmly, truly wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for 24 hours straight. Even when his friends chatter your ear off, the curly-haired one at the back doesn’t say anything. The short one with orange hair and the widest smile introduces himself as Hinata Shoyo, excitedly leading you to each of his teammates: loud Bokuto, flirty Atsumu, and reclusive Sakusa. You’re left alone with Sakusa when the other three rush off to find a bathroom, having been too excited to use one during your show. 

“I didn’t take you for the bracelet type, Sakusa,” you comment, clocking the single bracelet on his wrist. “The colors are nice, though. They go with your eyes.” You let some of your facade come down, mostly because you figured you didn’t need to be as energetic around this one compared to the others. 

“Yeah, Shoyo let me have one of his. Didn’t realize you had such a passionate fanbase,” he states and you fight the urge to laugh. “Or such a large one.”

“You didn’t think I had fans, Sakusa?” His eyes widen ever so slightly and the chuckle slips out before you can stop it, his ears turning a shade pinker. 

“Not what I said,” he backtracks, avoiding eye contact. “The show was good,” he continues unexpectedly, and you find yourself appreciating his praise more than you should. It was a triumph, in your mind, every time you won over a new listener, and he was no different. At least he wasn’t one of the guys harassing you in your Instagram messages. 

“I appreciate the compliment,” you say and catch his ears turning even redder. As much as he was trying to seem offputting, you could read him like a book. “You guys are in town for a game?”

“We’re playing not tomorrow night, but the night after. Coach would kill us if he knew we were going out before a big game,” he answers and you nod, gears starting to turn in your brain. It would be a headline tomorrow that the four players came to your show, but it would break the Internet entirely if you attended their game, especially in the middle of a sold-out tour. It was the kind of publicity you needed to drown out the tabloids. 

“My last show of this city is tomorrow night, but I can get away with skipping a rest day. Would it be weird if I came to watch you play?”

“You want to watch me play?” Sakusa echoes. The tiniest little smirk plays on the corner of his lips. Ugh. For all his introvertedness, he still had the ego of a pro athlete. “That’s what you’re saying?”

“I meant you guys. Don’t think I forgot about the players that actually came to talk to me,” you correct quickly. You exhale through your nose and shake your head with a small smile. The enthusiastic conversation behind you tells you that the rest of the team is returning. “Fine. Maybe I do wanna see who you are under all that antisocial attitude.” 

“Have fun with that. I don’t like new people,” he says, testing you. Too bad you were used to men that probably weren’t healthy for you. “There’s no changing that.” Your forehead throbs at his pure audacity, but you manage to keep an unbothered expression. 

“Good thing I love a challenge.” 

—

“I didn’t think they’d actually show up,” he mutters, taking another look at the large screens projecting the image of you in a VIP box. Sakusa didn’t recognize you without your concert makeup and stage outfit until Shoyo practically knocked him over in excitement. Seeing you smiling and catching your eye, even from at the bottom of the court, made his stomach turn in a way he wasn’t used to. 

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that first,” Bokuto beams, sending a powerful serve that barely cilps the top of the net. Sakusa finds his eyes drifting to your box, his scowl deepening when you blow an exaggerated kiss to his teammate. His next serve he puts more effort into, but when he looks up, you’re not even watching. Not only were you crashing his game, you were distracting his team. “Nice plan, Sakusa! Maybe we can become friends with them and go to each others’ events.” 

“That wasn’t my intention,” he cringes, the idea of spending more time with you making him nauseous. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the fact that you were making an effort to engage with him and his friends was outlandish. And all because he invited you to a game? Didn’t you have anything better to do?

“You thought inviting them to the game would scare them away, huh?” Atsumu’s watching Sakusa carefully, inspecting his disgruntled expression under a microscope. “Believe it or not, Omi, some people actually want to be around you…despite how difficult you make it sometimes.” 

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” he threatens, but the blonde Miya merely shrugs, impervious to Sakusa’s warnings. “Can we agree to ignore their presence? Focus on the game. It’s your job.” Atsumu and Bokuto share a look, with typical Hinata none the wiser. Whether they knew it or not, your attendance was throwing off Sakusa’s entire concentration. The average spectator wouldn’t notice the change in Sakusa’s behavior; if anything, they would think he was functioning at a higher level than he usually plays. His serves are stronger, his spikes are sharper, and his steps are quicker than any other player on the court. Fans rave on social media about how focused he is in the game, and the reporters scribble in their notebooks the pressing question for the post-game press conference: Why are you playing so well today? 

“I always play that well,” he mutters, his lie drowned out by the lively conversation around the booth in the corner of the restaurant. The Jackals had cinched an easy victory and Bokuto and Hinata dragged you from your box to get dinner with them. Sakusa sits at the edge of the booth, flanked by Atsumu, followed by Bokuto and Hinata. You sit at the other end, laughing at some dumb story being recounted. It made his forehead pound. “You just don’t notice.” 

“Yeah, right,” Atsumu snickers with another sip of beer. “Admit it, something’s pissing you off.” Maybe I do wanna see who you are under all that anti-social attitude. Your words linger in the back of his mind and fire him up again, unknowingly furrowing his eyebrows and incriminating him. “Yep. Knew it.” 

“Shut the hell up, Atsumu.” He hated that his normally-idiotic teammate was on the cusp of exposing the truth, not to mention the fact that he’d downed one too many soju bombs and was feeling pushier than usual. 

“Is it ‘cause they actually listened to you and showed up?”

“I told you to shut up,” he hisses through gritted teeth. You’re laughing so hard that tears are starting to prickle at the corner of your eyes. It’s the kind of laugh where no noise is actually leaving you and you’re fanning yourself with your hand. Gross. 

“Aww, look at little baby Omi-Omi, finally having a feeling over someone wanting to get to know him,” Atsumu gushes and Sakusa’s ears burn. He threatens his friend with an indescribable death to no avail. “I knew you had a heart under all that coldness!” 

Sakusa’s fist clenches around his glass and he realizes his mistake a split second before there’s a sharp crack! and sudden pain prickles in his palm. “Oh shit, man. I–” His teammate swears under his breath when drops of dark red and amber starts to trickle down Sakusa’s arm, staining the white napkin on his lap. He grinds his teeth down to keep from crying out, the whiskey in his shattered cup burning his raw skin. 

“What happened?” You’re by his side in an instant, your perfume flooding his senses in a way that makes him dizzy. “Jeez, Atsumu. What’d you do?” 

“Why are you blaming me? He’s the one who was holding the cup,” Atsumu says defensively and you shoot him a look. “Fine. I got him riled up and he did,” he gestures to the mess on the table, “that.” 

“Could one of you call your driver please? I think it’s time you three head back to your hotel,” you recommend calmly. 

“What about Sakusa?” Hinata asks as he climbs out from the booth, dragging an apologetic Atsumu and a very buzzed Bokuto toward the door. “He should probably get that checked out.”

“I know. I’ll stay with him,” you reassure him and, after a brief pause of thinking, the short spiker nods and heads for the exit. Sakusa is rigidly still, save for the involuntarily twitching of his injured fingers. “C’mon, let’s go,” you say, gently guiding him out of the booth and grabbing some unused napkins to catch the bleeding. He follows you wordlessly, a million thoughts stewing in his eyes that he refuses to verbalize. He knew he didn’t like you when you tried to read him after your show, but the alcohol in his system was making him despise you. 

You, sitting with him on the way to the nearest hospital. You, carefully looping the elastic bands of his mask over his face before leaving the car. You, politely declining a fan’s attempt to introduce themselves while you’re checking him in at the reception desk. You, listening intently to the doctor as she says that he’ll need stitches in his right hand and that they’ll need to pick every last particle of glass from his palm so that it doesn’t become infected. You, ignoring your vocal coach’s orders for a rest day and staying by his side from 11:00pm to 3:00am when the doctors finally finish his hand. 

He despises you and his pride becomes a gag in his mouth once you drop him off at the Jackals’ hotel, rendering him unable to choke out a simple ‘thank you’ as you continue to treat him with unending kindness. You’ll get hurt if you keep being nice, he thinks to himself, and the way you flinch like you’d been shot tells him he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. He hears you murmur Sleep well, Sakusa, as he shuts the door with his left hand and stalks away, lost in the trenches of his mind. 

—

“But, I’m not sure if it should be the A minor to keep with the chord progression or go to E to create some tension.” Your producer nods at you, his chin resting on his knuckles as you strum your latest song idea on your purple acoustic. It’d been a few days since your late-night trip to the emergency room with Sakusa, and you decided to spend a few hours in the studio before catching your flight to your next tour city. “And when I tried to do it on piano, I just wanted to change the key entirely.” He opens his mouth to speak but is abruptly cut off by three insistent raps on the doorframe of the control room.  

“You have a visitor,” your publicist informs you, peeking her head into the room with a slightly bewildered look in her eyes. “He says it’s urgent.” Your eyebrows dip but you stand anyways, walking through the halls of the recording space until you reach the lobby of the building and stop in your tracks. 

What the hell was he doing here?

“Hey,” Sakusa greets and you blink at him, like he was a figment of your imagination that would disappear if you ignored him. It’s impossible to ignore him, though, considering the outrageously large bundle of flowers cradled in his arm. He follows your eyeline, muttering, “I didn’t know which ones you liked, so I just…bought all of them.”

“I’ll, uh,” your publicist glances at you for a brief moment, giving you an unreadable look before gingerly taking the bouquet from the Olympian in the lobby. “I’ll take these and have them brought to your next hotel, okay?” She dismisses herself, leaving you alone with him. 

“Why are you here?”

“Are you busy right now?” You cross your arms over your chest, annoyed that he replied to your question with a question of his own. Since dropping him off at the team’s hotel, you’d come to peace with his hatred for you even though you’d tried to be nothing but cordial; maybe he could tell that you wanted to be friends for the publicity, you theorized. 

“I’m in a recording studio doing my job, so yeah,” you reply and allow all your suppressed attitude to rear its head. To your surprise, he doesn’t immediately fire back at you. If anything, Sakusa looked uneasy, nothing like the cold confidence you previously saw. “What do you want?”

“Do you have time for lunch?” 

“Oh, now you’re interested in my company,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. In the time following that night at the hospital, you hadn’t received any updates other than an unprompted photo of hungover Atsumu. “Unless you’re ready to apologize for how much of an asshole you’ve been, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I wanna start over,” he says as you turn your back on him to return to the studio. “One meal,” he proposes, “and if you want nothing to do with me after that, I’ll leave you alone.” You check the wall-mounted clock and make your decision. 

“You get two hours.” 

By the time you sneak through the back of a restaurant and sit down to eat, your stomach is turning itself inside out. You thumb through the menu eagerly, ignoring your present company until water glasses are set out and orders are taken. 

“Look,” you begin, peering at him in the dim light, “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“That makes two of us,” he agrees. “You go first.”

“Truth is, I didn’t go to the game to see you, or any of the Jackals, for that matter,” you admit. “I went to get the tabloids off my back and give them a different reason to talk. I didn’t mean to mess up whatever dynamic you guys had going, so for that I am sorry.” You can’t see much of Sakusa’s expression, but you can tell his eyes are on you by the way they shine like a cat’s. It was off-putting, but also drew you in like a black hole. “Is your hand doing okay?”

“It’s better now,” he replies. “Doc’ told me that if we’d left that glass in for longer, it would’ve been more serious.” You nod and take a drink from your water as an excuse not to respond, to see if he would go further. “I, uh,” he swallows thickly, steadying his nerves. “I’m sorry for being avoidant and just being a general asshole. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m…incredibly remorseful.” A puff of air leaves your nostrils in amusement and he can hear you smirk from across the small table. 

“I appreciate the apology, and the apology lunch. Wanna start over without our respective teams breathing down our necks? Friends?” You stick your open hand toward him and he shakes it without hesitation, sealing your deal. “Awesome.” 

“You said ‘tabloids.’ What do they say about you?” Your smile fades and for a moment, he thinks he’s pushed too far too soon. He’s on the brink of apologizing again when you exhale an unsteady breath. 

“The tame ones call me an industry plant,” you explain awkwardly. “The–uh–bolder ones call me a slut.” His nostrils flare and he’s glad there’s no glass in his hand again, otherwise he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t be shattered. “The big drama came from me leaving the producer who’d helped me start my career. The media got the wrong idea, said I’d slept my way into working with him, and left when I’d had my fill.” Sakusa slowly stretches his neck from side to side, willing the sudden tension in his body to relax as he starts to see red. “I hope you can see why I wanted to give them a different reason to talk.” It’s more of a struggle than he expected to keep his voice steady. 

“What actually happened? With the original producer?” You hum in lieu of answering, grateful to catch the approaching servers out of the corner of your eye. 

“I’ll tell you another time,” you dodge, giving him a smile that he can tell is off. “For now, can we eat? I’m so hungry I’m about to eat these silly little herbs in the centerpiece.” 

—

Sakusa stays in Tokyo longer than the rest of his teammates, who depart on the team jet for the next game. He says he wants to do a little more sightseeing, despite having an apartment in the most expensive highrise in the city and knowing the streets like the back of his hand. The truth was, he wasn’t ready to give up the…thing…he’d established with you. He fell into an odd sort of routine: saying goodnight over text, calling you in the morning and telling you what time he’s picking you up, choosing the best places that can shut down for the world’s biggest rockstar on a day’s notice. You were in town for three more days and ended up spending every waking moment of them with Sakusa. 

“You’re really good at dodging the cameras,” you remark over a shared cup of ice cream on your last day, digging your spoon past the numerous toppings you’d insisted on adding. “How do you do it?”

“It helps when I’m not surrounded by the three biggest noisemakers on the planet,” he deadpans and you giggle, a sound he was increasingly becoming fond of the more time he spent with you. “I’m pretty good at laying low. People don’t know where I am unless I want them to know.” 

“Everyone seems to know where I am before even I know,” you frown. “I envy you; I really do.”

“I don’t,” he shrugs.

“Why not?” 

“When you’re trying so hard to avoid people, they tend to stop looking for you. Makes my job easier.” Your lips part in an oh of understanding. “But, I guess you’re here, so either you truly care about my wellbeing or you’re clinically insane.” You burst out laughing, so much so that you snort and have to cover your mouth with a napkin. “My running theory is that it’s a mix of both,” he declares with a rare upturn at the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” you mutter once you’ve caught your breath and checked the time on your phone. “I should go. My plane leaves soon and my manager’ll kill me if I’m late. She’s already iffy about me staying in Tokyo this long.”

“What’s your next city?” 

“Madrid. I’m starting the European leg,” you reply while you pack up your things. He stands, walking you to the door of your waiting car. His eyes instinctively scan the surroundings street for cameras, and he subtly positions his body to block you from any passing eyes as you climb into the car. The window makes a humming noise as you roll it down. 

“Have a safe flight.” 

“Don’t be a stranger, yeah? I’ll miss you, even if you don’t want me to.” He memorizes the way the afternoon sunlight catches in your eyes, how each thump of his heartbeat seems louder when you’re near. Something is wrong in my brain, he thinks to himself. Once he’s completely sure your car isn’t being tailed, he dials Atsumu on the drive to the hotel to collect the rest of his things.

“You land already, Miya?” His car purrs beneath his fingertips as he speeds through the busy streets. 

“Safe and sound,” his teammate confirms. “Though jet lag is starting to hit Shoyo and Bo. How were the rest of your dates?” 

“They weren’t dates,” he argues, his hands unconsciously gripping the wheel tighter in indignance. “I was just thanking them for that night.” 

“Yeah, and a bit more than that, I figure.” 

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you,” he groans.

“Because you want me to say ‘I told you so,’ right? That it was a good idea for me to bring you to that show. You know, a trip to that conveyor belt sushi place will suffice as repayment.”

“In your dreams, Atsumu,” Sakusa deadpans. 

“C’mon, Omi. I know you wouldn’t keep spending time with them if you didn’t feel some kind of tug.” 

“Tug?”

“Like you’re drawn to them,” Atsumu gushes and Sakusa feels like gagging. “Intimately.” Sakusa definitely didn’t think of you that way…right?

“You’re such a pervert.” His disgust is clear, and his speakers blow out with Atsumu’s screams of Not like that! and You don’t even pull enough for me to make fun of! “I’m at the hotel now so I’m gonna hang up. Not sure again why I even bother talking to you.”

“Because I’m your best friend,” Atsumu answers. “See you soon, my sweet Omi~” 

“Remind me to punch you when I touch down.”

—

“How was the show a few nights ago?” 

“Amazing, as always. Almost fell on my ass running around to meet people at the barricade, but thankfully kept my balance,” you chuckle, running the pad of your thumb over the petal of a purple gladiolus. “You can probably see a clip of it on all the fan pages.”

“You think I follow fan pages about you?” 

“What? I follow fan pages about you,” you insist. “User ‘omi-omisbigtits’ has some pretty funny posts of you.” Sakusa groans from the other end of the line.

“That’s the one fan account I have blocked because they post such heinous things,” he recalls. “Did you scroll far enough to see the one where I’m at the zoo and–”

“You’re running away from the peacock, yep,” you finish. Out of the various presents and letters your fans gifted you, you find yourself drawn again and again to the pot of sword lilies. “I screenshotted it and made it your contact photo.”

“I’m never sending you flowers again,” he mutters, but you hear it, snapping your head upwards. 

“These were you?” Your jaw drops so forcefully that it aches. “You’re the mystery flower sender? No one would tell me who sent these!” 

“Because I told them I’d sue if you found out it was me,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes, a grin creeping onto your face. 

“Why’d you want to send them anonymously?” Upon inspecting the color further, you realize where you’ve seen the shade before. 

He’d sent you flowers that matched your favorite guitar. 

“I didn’t wanna distract you before your shows. I was aiming for subtlety.” You blink in disbelief. Sakusa had sent you flowers the night before you started your show run in Paris, knowing you would be at the venue for soundcheck. Maybe he did care about you and your career.

“Well, you failed,” you state, staring at the large bundle of purple taking up half the space on your dressing room’s side table. “This bouquet is the opposite of subtle.”

“Bouquet? I ordered you one stem.”

“No,” you restated. Even though you’d never video called Sakusa before, you switch on your phone’s camera anyway to show him the absolutely gargantuan amount of flowers he mistakenly sent you. “You ordered this.” To your surprise, he turns on his camera as well. His face contorts into such a shocked and puzzled expression that you snort out the water you were sipping, burning your nostrils as tears prickle your eyes. “Stop looking like that, I can’t breathe!”

“What do you mean, ‘stop looking like that?’ I didn’t mean to send you the whole rainforest!” You choke out another uncontrollable laugh, turning the camera to face yourself and setting it in front of your vanity mirror. “Alright, at least you got them.” 

“Yes, and I really appreciate you sending them.” You can tell he’s not used to having his camera on, as he keeps tilting the phone at odd angles and barely showing his face half the time. “What’re you doing right now?”

“Just in bed.” Or a snowstorm, from the looks of it. 

“Why does it look like your poor phone is in a typhoon?” 

“You’re literally so annoying,” he grumbles, reluctantly positioning himself so that he’s sitting against the headboard. With the new point of view, you also notice very quickly that he…is completely shirtless. “Better?”

“Yep, yeah. That’s fine,” you force out, clearing your throat aggressively while the image of his very broad shoulders assault your brain. “Sorry that I didn’t send you flowers for your game.” 

“The guys would give me shit about it if you do, so I’m glad you did not,” he replies. “Though, it does suck not having you around.” 

“This is the closest I’m ever getting to you saying you miss me. I should commemorate it with a plaque.” Sakusa clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. He must’ve taken a shower recently; his curls look slightly wet and dangle haphazardly across his eyes. You have the sudden urge to run your fingers through it, and then the even more sudden urge to slap yourself for thinking in such a way. 

“What city are you in now? I know you just finished up Dublin.” His voice snaps you out of your daydreaming. 

“Paris,” you manage to reply without too awkward of a pause. “You?”

“Paris.” 

“Huh? I thought your next game was in Brazil,” you ask. His face goes still for a moment and you figure it’s probably frozen from bad service, wherever he is. “Hello?”

“Sorry, you broke up for a second. What were you saying?”

“I was asking why you were in Paris.”

“I’m not in Paris,” he states. “I’m in Seoul.” 

“Isn’t your next game in Brazil?” He pauses for an almost imperceptible amount of time.

“Game schedule got rearranged. We’re in Seoul, then the States, then Brazil.” 

“Oh. I see.” A loud series of knocking on your dressing room door makes you jump. “Ah, I’m sorry. I need to go.” 

“Rockstar duties?”

“You know it,” you yawn, taking one last indulgent look at the exposed muscle on his shoulders. “Hopefully we both get some rest for the coming days.”

“Yep. G’night.” 

—

There was a little bit of lingering guilt on his end after you hang up; the fact that he’d lied to you about his whereabouts didn’t escape him. 

He wasn’t sure what came over him, what sentimental demon temporarily possessed him to take a plane to wherever you were (Paris, not the lie that he gaslit you into believing) and buy a last minute ticket to your show. His emotions and desires were thrown completely off balance; he truly didn’t care if he was up in the nosebleeds if it meant he got to see you. Thankfully, a wealthy couple had bought out an entire area of club seats for their granddaughter’s birthday, but decided last minute that they wanted to fly to Cancun. It made him a little anxious, having all that space to himself, but he figured he could have his guards and team invite family to make it a little less lonely. It didn’t matter how many strangers he needed to meet or how much he had to spend. 

He just wanted to see you. 

He finds himself in a familiar position from the first time he went to one of your shows, rooted under the awning of the expansive lounge area and just out of sight from fans. His arms unconsciously cross over his chest and the beads of the bracelet he’d dug through his luggage to find presses against his skin. But, this time, he isn’t annoyed by the pain; if anything, it reminds him that he’s actually here with you, even if you don’t know it yet. 

I’m pretty good at laying low. People don’t know where I am unless I want them to know. His words echo back to him and he makes his decision, stepping out into the stadium lights and resting his forearms on the railing. 

He wants you to know he’s there. 

The first fan to notice is a girl in purple, slapping her friend furiously until they both are gawking at him. One pair of eyes becomes two, which becomes five, which becomes twenty, until hundreds of phone cameras are pointed at him and snapping photos. The sentimental demon possesses him again and he sticks up an involuntary peace sign, even going so far as to smile to look less bored. They scream for him and he thinks the sentimental demon is Atsumu, because he finds himself imitating his teammate’s movements. His hands clap together and he gestures for fans to toss him bracelets, which become an impossible shower as dozens are thrown at once. By the time the lights dim and news of his presence is trending across the continent, his arms are covered in sleeves of rainbow beads. 

— 

The ache in your feet is immediately replaced by adrenaline when your head of security informs you who came to the show. You don’t bother waiting for the golf cart to bring you to the back of the stadium and take off sprinting, chunky heels and all. They’re calling after you to hold on to let the rest of your team catch up, but you don’t listen. The stadium staff look at you fondly but also have a reasonably startled reaction to you running like you’d escaped from an asylum. 

You round the corner absolutely heaving and his face breaks into a wide smile. You’d never seen him look like that before, never at his games or during any of the time you’d spent together. It was an expression reserved for only you in this moment. You don’t remember if he catches you or if you embrace him first, but soon enough your face is tucked into the crook of his neck, eyes squeezed shut and grinning like a lunatic. His arms are rock solid around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until you can hear his heartbeat slamming against his ribcage. Neither of you speak for a few minutes because you don’t feel the need to; only when you pull away to hold his face with your hands do you manage to articulate words. 

“You’re here,” you breathe. “You’re actually here.” Recognition blinks onto your face and you suddenly frown, lightheartedly slapping his shoulder, saying, “You lied! Your dumb ass said you were in Seoul!” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he concludes unapologetically. “I did slip up with my story a few times, though.”

“Yeah, you got your own game schedule wrong.” 

“To be fair, some games did get rescheduled, which is why I’m able to be here. Our next game’s in Seoul, which is why I blanked and said that instead,” he explains and you respond with an exasperated eyeroll. “Find it in your heart to forgive me?” 

“I see right through you, Sakusa Kiyoomi. You don’t…uhm…” He comes close enough that you can count his eyelashes and it takes you a few seconds to recompose yourself. “Mmm, you wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid,” you challenge and hope he doesn’t hear the butterflies going wild in your stomach. 

“Maybe I do,” he smirks and it only makes the situation more sweat-inducing. “I missed you, after all.” Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in but instantly shoot back open, gently pushing him away as he pouts. “What is it?”

“Take me out to dinner, first. If you apologize sufficiently for being a terrible liar, maybe you’ll get a kiss,” you propose and he’s already lacing his fingers in yours. 

“Good thing I love a challenge.” 

— 

In spite of his attempts to ignore the cameras and the footsteps that were always a few feet behind him, there was a pit in his stomach every time Sakusa was in public with you. He couldn’t figure out why he was so irked, but the feeling made it difficult to enjoy how you smiled at him in quiet moments and pointed out things he’d never think to notice before. Most perplexingly, you didn’t seem bothered at all by the cameras. It was like they disappeared as soon as he came into your proximity; you barely spared them a glance in favor of beaming up at him. 

Even though you agreed that there was a feeling more than platonic between you two, he hadn’t mustered up the urge to kiss you properly, opting for your forehead or your hands instead. It didn’t seem to bother you, the way he only reserved showing his affection when you were out of view. But, he slips up the night before you have to part ways, him for his next game and you for your final European date. The dread he’d experienced for days felt like intuition telling him something was inherently wrong, like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff he didn’t know the height of. 

It comes crashing down when the tabloids catch him holding your hand.

“Can you believe this?” You snort, showing Sakusa the headline as he forces down the bile in his throat. “They think you’re my next ‘big catch,’ like you’re a fish or something,” you chuckle obliviously, leaning into him on the living room couch of his hotel suite. He manages a pained mhmm and watches as you continue to scroll through the news site, the photos of him holding your hand and grabbing your waist flying by like a nightmarish film reel. He rubs his palms back and forth over the fabric of his sweats, feeling suddenly feverish from every single point where your body was touching his. Clearing his throat, he swallows thickly and you finally look at him, concern pinching in your eyebrows. Your voice is gentle and you reach up to feel his forehead; he dodges your hand and you carefully hide your disappointment. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

“We can’t do this.” His heart sinks as you sit up and blink at him, his words registering slowly in your mind. “I can’t…I can’t do this with you,” he sputters out. You exhale a single time and he watches your eyes flick from side to side, your brain running a thousand miles a minute.

“I don’t understand.”

“We need to stop.” You laugh forcefully, like you were commanding your body to feel lighter. 

“If this is a joke, Kiyoomi, it isn’t funny–”

“It’s not a fucking joke; you need to stop being with me,” he snaps and the room falls silent. The only thing he can hear is his heartbeat rushing through his ears, his face hotter than the sun. 

“Why?” Your voice breaks and so does something in him, his jaw clenching unconsciously. 

“You need to stop being nice to me,” he says through gritted teeth, “because I can’t guarantee I’ll be nice back.” This is how it always ends. Push them away before things get messy. This is how it works for Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

“But you have been nice,” you fight back, your grief morphing into unfiltered rage as you stand and scream at him. “You sent me flowers. You bought me dinner. You flew across the world to see my fucking show!” 

“That doesn’t matter. None of it mattered.” His composure wavers momentarily, unreadable emotions flashing across his face. “You can’t be close to me without getting hurt.” He gestures to your phone, the paparazzi image of you two together brighter than a Times Square billboard. 

“Who said it needed to be that way?” 

“Everyone did!” He stands without warning and you flinch backward, stumbling against the coffee table. “People think I’m an asshole, so that’s how I choose to stay. At the very least, I can predict things and prevent people from getting too close. You’re too close.”

“But you’re not an asshole. You’ve shown me that much,” you insist, arguing with his back as he starts to retreat into the master suite. What you say next makes him freeze, trapped in an endless time loop with you. 

Tell me you care for your friends. 

“What?” He’s seething as he turns, meeting your eyes. “What the fuck do you mean, do I–”

“Do you care about your friends?” You repeat, stepping closer to him. His eyes are burning, molten to the core even when you refuse to shrink away. “If Bo, Shoyo, and Atsumu were dying in a fucking fire, would you save them?”

“Of course I would,” he spits indignantly. “What kind of–”

“Then you have the capacity to love, Kiyoomi, as much as you don’t want to admit it.” You’re crying, tears streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks. Why are you crying? He never wanted to make you cry. What did he do to make you cry? 

“Because the last time you loved something, people scorned you.” They told him his passion was suffocating. They told him he was walking a path that one could only walk alone. He’s frozen, his feet left immobile on the hotel carpet. He makes no sound beside shaking exhales and can sense nothing but your voice coming closer.  

“You made it your career to prove that it’s worthy of your love…but you forgot how to love anything else.” Time slows. He doesn’t remember when your face appeared so close to his. He can see a universe behind your eyes and he wants nothing more than to hold you and call you his. His passion was suffocating. It would hurt you. It would burn you. It would–

“I wish you could love yourself as much as I love you.” 

One breath, and then another. 

A crack in an eggshell. A hole in a fortress. 

You are an asteroid completely obliterating the planet he considered himself. 

And when he finally kisses you properly, he understands just how freeing being destroyed could be. 

—

Sakusa Kiyoomi did not like cameras. They were gnats buzzing around his head, calling for him to look this way and that, catching his every reaction to whatever crossed his path. They were broken whispers that floated to his ears, unintelligible conversations that stayed as voices in his head. He did not like cameras, but he found that looking at you was infinitely better than looking at anything else. 

“You doing okay?” Your murmur is the only thing he hears, quieting the rest of the chatter around him. Swaths of dresses and suits brush against his arms and he fights the instinct to shield you from view, despite being sat in the very center of the huge theater. It was the biggest award show of the season, and he’d made a vow with himself that he wouldn’t ruin tonight for you. With your hand in his, as long as he had physical contact with you, it was easier to keep the doubts in his mind at bay. “I’m feeling fine, if that’s what you need to know.” 

“I’m doing okay as long as you’re okay,” he confirms softly, barely sparing a glance at the giant lens a few feet from his face. “I’m here to celebrate you. I won’t let them bother me tonight.” You beam at him, opening your mouth to say something when a commotion comes tumbling down the aisle. “Actually,” he mutters as his three teammates trip over themselves to find their seats in the rest of the row, “Do you think I can have one nasty scowl? I promise I’ll behave otherwise.” 

“Having a rockstar best friend is like, the best thing ever,” Bokuto declares before you can respond to Kiyoomi. 

“I’m so glad Omi finally got his head out of his ass, too,” Atsumu drawls with an unbothered yawn that makes Sakusa’s blood boil. The blonde Miya sibling had been very vocal with the press about playing as the matchmaker, pointedly dodging questions about his own romantic status. “I think I’ll secretly have ‘I told you so’ engraved on the inside of your wedding rings.”

“Over my dead body,” Kiyoomi grumbles and you smile, squeezing his hand once. He squeezes back, pressing a rare public kiss to the side of your head. You shift your body to lean more closely to his and your wrist presses down on something wrapped around his wrist. 

“What’s under your sleeve?”

“Hmm? Oh, this?” He pulls back the freshly ironed fabric to reveal a familiar pattern of green and yellow beads, out of place compared to the rest of his formal attire. “Got it from a concert,” he smirks knowingly. “The show was cool, but I think I’m in love with the artist.”

“Yeah? You never figured out what that acronym stands for, did you?” He shakes his head and you point at each letter bead, explaining, “No one knows me like you do, and no one ever will.” 

“Well, isn’t that fitting?” The lights dim and the orchestra starts to play its signature fanfare, spotlights gliding in aimless directions across the audience. “Thank you for helping me understand.”

“The meaning of the lyric? Of course, I think of you every time I sing it, now,” you smile. 

“No, about what you said that night when we argued.” He feels a familiar blush creeping up his cheeks. “About loving me how you love me.”

“And do you get it now?”

“I do,” he nods, glancing at the colorful bracelet on his wrist and your fingers intertwined with his. “I just needed a little bit of convincing.” Your head settles on his shoulder and he lets you, allowing himself to relax in spite of the sea of cameras surrounding him. 

“Good thing I love a challenge.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[celestoria]

Lights, Camera, Action

Summary: Congratulations, you’ve reached a milestone! You decided to host a raffle. Winner gets a free one-on-one cam call with you. Though it was your first time doing this sorts of stuff, what could go wrong? You realized you spoke to soon when your lucky winner was in fact your classmate from college

Pairing: Alhaitham x Cammer!fem!reader

Tags: College AU, Cammer, Implied Academic Rivals, Toys, Mutual Masturbation

Words: 1.7k

Do not interact if you are 16 or below (17+)

You’re celebrated by your professors as one of their best students. Like how can they not? You attentively listen to lectures, never pass your homework late, and ace even the most difficult of tests. The textbook definition of “goody two shoes” was meant for you.

That’s what everyone tells you though, but if you had to give your opinion, you’d simply disagree off the bat.

Outside of academics, you lived your life as a debaucherous cammer. Your body is constantly flaunted in front of a camera to be streamed by viewers who look at you with ardour. Part of the reason why you entered the industry is to help pay your student loans but also, you simply enjoyed it since it brought the excitement you have been searching for your whole life.

No one called you out about your double life despite recently hitting a huge milestone of thousands of subscribers. You weren’t sure if it was just luck being on your side or if that dirty little secret of yours could be masked by some makeup and a wig.

Speaking of milestones, such success should be celebrated. Before anything else, you wanted to show your gratitude to your faithful fans. What’s not a better way than to hold an event? One lucky winner gets to have a private call with you and you would practically do anything their lust-driven desires crave.

It didn’t take long for you to pick a random winner. You had to do this quickly since it won’t be long until your finals start. Meaning you only had this weekend.

Lucky for you, the person who won your raffle didn’t take long to respond, and easy enough, he asked if you could have the call after two days from now. How convenient. You had the same ideal set date too.

The day came and you were sitting restlessly on your chair. Your eyes fixated on the clock of your computer and your thumbs twiddled each other.

If you were, to be honest, this was the first time you did a one-on-one session with anyone because you felt more nervous if another person looked at you while you did all the sorts you’ve done. You’re better off with a faceless camera directed at you. Now you feel more confident after gaining so much support.

Sadly, you spoke too soon.

Maybe you got too arrogant and so sure of yourself that no one will ever recognize you. However, You didn’t think about it the other way around and only realized it now as your lucky winner turned on his camera, making your blood run cold. You only knew one person with grey hair that had teal hidden underneath and green eyes that looked at you with such a calculated gaze.

Alhaitham.

He was your blockmates in your current semester but you rarely saw him. What made you remember him so well is that despite constantly playing hooky in almost every class, he’d never fail to give a perfect score on all his tests.

People either love him or hate him. Your professors often commented how your work ethics were complete opposites, yet when it comes to test results, you were neck on neck. Sometimes Alhaitham is more knowledgeable than the professor when it comes to certain topics. Some of your campus mates even called him “the definition of a true prodigy”.

Still, he was the last person who you would think would watch cammers like you, let alone subscribe to you.

You made sure you conceal your emotions since it wasn’t the best time to react. Despite this, you can’t help but notice how fast your heart was beating. Maybe that’s why words had spilled out of your mouth.

“Hi,” you smiled, even though it felt like you had to take all your courage to say that.

He nonchalantly replied with the same words. God everything he says makes you feel anxious but now was not the time for that. You had to be professional. Fate made him win fair and square and you want to give him the highest quality of your service.

“So what do you want to do,” you bit your lip and slowly slipped down the bra strap.

“I assume you received a small parcel in your PO box recently,” he replied and you nodded.

Without another word, you grabbed the box yet to be opened. You just got it today and you didn’t have time to check what’s inside earlier. You opened the box and buried deep underneath all the packaging peanuts was a set of toys that must have cost a fortune.

Fans solemnly gave you gifts but you didn’t expect Alhaitham to be the type of guy to go the extra mile for this type of situation. Although you were grateful, you can never really seem to understand this guy.

“You know what to do,” he smirked as he leaned back on his chair as his excited eyes were fixated on his screen.

With a facade of confidence, you slowly slipped down your panties and leaned on your chair with your legs on the armrest, giving him a good view of the wet cunt you placed on display.

The toy vibrated once you turned on the switch and slowly slipped it inside of you. Your back arched forward and your eyes rolled. Your hands fondled your covered breast as you moaned out, trying your best not to break eye contact with the screen.

Despite this all being cyber sex, his eyes flickered with carnal excitement. His hands traveled to his aching crotch where a sticking bulge formed. He undid his pants and whipped out his hardened cock, thumbing his sensitive tip as you gave him a show.

“Is that the fastest my gift for you can go? I’m pretty sure a high-quality toy like that can go a little faster than that,” he commented. “Go turn up the speed to its maximum level and don’t you dare look away from your screen.”

And that you did. The toy moved so fast inside of you that your hips started to squirm in your chair. Your moans became shaky and your eyes had to keep so much resistance for you not to shut it tight. With your gaze restricted only to the screen, you noticed how Alhaitham started to jack himself off faster than earlier.

His deep grunts were somewhat close to being mumbled but with the mic right near his lips, they were crystal clear in your headphones. A tingling sensation ran down your spine and everything his voice expressed with such devious pleasure. It was as if he was right there beside you placing the vibrating toy deep inside you.

Juice leaked from your pussy and pooled down on the leather cushion of your seat. Your legs started to shake and your grip on the chair handles tightened.

“Can I come? Please let me come,” you begged.

“Not until I’m finished. Don’t worry I’m almost there.”

Liar.

Alhaitham was far from finished and he knew perfectly how to get your hopes up. He enjoyed how your hips swivelled and how you tried your best not to stop yourself from screaming out of pleasure.

You can call it sadistic but he prefers calling it “getting his money’s worth”. Besides, seeing you play with yourself basically at his mercy was something he quite enjoyed seeing.

Soon after, Alhaitham’s voice hitched, and beads of white leaked off the tip of his cock. The hands that moved in a fast motion finally slowed down.

“You can cum now,” he panted and indulged in the euphoria spreading across his body,

You pulled the slick-coated toy out of your pussy and the sweet release was finally yours. Your mind went black and all you could do was stare at the screen in front of you that displayed a flushed man with a tight shirt that if only you could, you’d tell him to take it off. But hey, he isn’t the cammer here.

“Shall we continue with our show,” you slurred and gave him a Cheshire cat smile. You teased him with the vibrating toy in your palm by placing it near your clit as you unclasped your bra with your free hand.

He smirked. “I knew there was a reason why you were my favourite cammer.”

————

It was late at night and you were at a nearby diner sitting parallel to your friend, Kaveh. He once promised to treat you to dinner if you helped him finish up his project. Though that was two months ago, you can’t help not to pass up the offer of a free meal.

You looked down at your table with the memories from earlier this afternoon still playing in the back of your mind. It was a new and fresh experience for you, sure but what stuck with you is how out of all the people in the world who could have won your little event, it was someone you’ve seen walk the same campus field as you. Not that you hated it. If you were honest, you want to do it all over again, and even possibly have a one-night stand with him.

And speaking of the devil himself.

“Hey, who told you that you could just come here uninvited? I told you I had private business to attend to,” Kaveh scolded.

Despite steam practically coming out of Kaveh’s ears, Alhaitham remained unphased.

“I saw on the sticky note on the wall that you were having dinner here. I decided to drop by because if I were to clean up after cooking, I’d include the mess you didn’t bother to wash when you left,” Alhaitham rebutted before he shifted his attention to you. “Who’s this? She looks familiar.”

Your heart stopped and the heat from your cheeks rose. Anxious thoughts spiralled in your mind and you prayed he doesn’t remember you from earlier.

“She’s my friend. I promised that I’d treat her for dinner and here we are,” Kaveh explained as Alhaitham sat down. “She also happens to be in the same class as you so stop giving that puzzled look. You’re literally scaring the poor girl.”

“I was only retrying to recall where I met her, since you said it I do remember her attending the same classes as me.” Alhaitham settled down and continued his little banters with your friend.

Kaveh turned to you. “Excuse my roommate, Alhaitham, here. He can be a jerk sometimes. Anyway, why don’t you start ordering?. A promise is a promise right?”

Either you got your hopes up from feign ignorance or he was truly unaware, but seeing the three of you somewhat get along without trying to recall what happened earlier made all the things better.

[tgrailwar-zero]

hm... a story to spark the heart huh... I want to try something light and fluffed up a little bit... maybe a lot... (ahem)...

Not so long ago, there was an Emperor clad in black and magenta. He was fighting in a war, and had been given a mission to retrieve treasure from a God alone. On his way there a confused wraith appeared, scared and not knowing where they were! No one could see or hear their cries; but the noble man was different. His kind heart heard their panic and spoke to them. Once calmed, the Emperor invited the lost Wraith on his quest to find the treasure!

On the way to the temple, the Emperor told about the Wraith about the treasure he sought, a magical key that could grant its holder power, and soon they arrived at the foot of the God's lair! The God was good natured and joyful, but still sent one of her familiars - a dinosaur! - to attack the Emperor as a test of strength and skill! Swift on his feet he gallantly mounted the familiar and rode it all the way to the top of her temple!

The God's smile was like the sun itself, impressed by the Emperors boldness and speed, she offered him the key and two other gifts - a feather and pulque. The Wraith cheered for the Emperor's victory, and they celebrated by downing the pulque in one gulp! After the celebration the Wraith faded away- but promised they would return to quest with their new friend again some day.

You stand before the tank, and place your hand against it. Your magic scatters petals, and your voice speaks. Speaks of stories of the past, both recent and the far distant. Memories, fairy tales, legends, fables, and the blurred lines between them all. You speak of a humanity far, far away and of a humanity closer than one could imagine.

And you try to connect this warrior to where you currently reside.

The Solar Cell.

A fool's paradise. A paradise of fools. A paradise made by fools.

Home to a nascent species, born purely by chance, being given a chance at existence. A chance to exist in a manner that goes above their predecessors.

To magi, this place would be considered a miracle. A place where phantoms of the past and children of the future work together to create a new humanity.

And yet, conflict simmers.

Conflict driven by desperation.

Conflict driven by idealism.

Conflict driven by fate.

Conflict created by a clash of ideals.

Whatever is built will be destroyed. Whatever is destroyed will be rebuilt. A vicious cycle, as faction upon faction, individual upon individual, tries to proclaim that they are 'just', each one missing one fragment of the whole picture as they rush towards their preferred ending.

That's what people strive towards as they fight, an 'ending'. The final page, the 'game clear', a shout of 'congratulations'.

The ability to fight for an 'ending', that is one's right.

Good ends, bad ends, happy ends, sad ends.

Or, even that unattainable 'golden ending'.

That fantastical 'shining ending' for everyone.

...Of course, such a thing is only possible in fiction.

A consequence-free world is an impossible world. Reality does not work that way. For someone to win, someone else has to lose. Only in fairy tales does the knight slay the evil dragon and save the princess, and only in reality does one imagine what would happen if the dragon was truly slain, and what it would mean for the world.

However, for the sake of convenience, let's say that this world that you're observing is a 'story'.

Well, certainly the idea of a 'golden ending' would seem even more ridiculous. Consider this, dying to a heroine? Twice? A different would-be heroine both times? What kind of twisted tale is this?

Ah… that's right. This is a twisted tale.

You sit amongst the shattered remains of a 'bad end'.

The main players have been taken off the board, and so you have taken the reins in order to give this world-- this 'story'-- worth.

However, as broken as this world may be, that also means that this world can be fixed, as it's still being observed as a 'story'.

Therefore, those efforts you've made have not been for naught. Like the beating wings of a butterfly, each action has created an effect, and shaped the world in ways deeper than one could imagine.

And eventually, as those choices begin to pile behind you, you'll be faced with a question.

'What does your happy ending look like?'

…Though perhaps that's jumping the gun right now.

Perhaps it is too far away to be imagined.

Rather than the 'end', let's focus on the 'now'. The 'here and now', to be exact.

After all, to anyone, this place would be a miracle. A place where phantoms of the past and children of the future work together to create a new humanity in this place.

And you, as the vestiges of the 'present', have chosen to make your mark as well.

So, another question comes forth. What will this story become?

Will it be a comedy?

A tragedy?

A 'good end' or a 'bad end'?

A 'dead end' or a 'golden end'?

Regardless…

These stories, these tales of fate, all share a common thread. And thus, as the story begins its third cycle, perhaps it should follow tradition.

And thus, we find ourselves back within the laboratory.

You place your hand against the tube as the mechanism is released, and you speak. You recount. You connect.

The mechanism is released, and the figure drops to the ground, his posture placing him into a kneel as he catches himself, the color beginning to return to his form.

The back of your hand begins to burn. A sharp, scorching pain as emblems are emblazoned upon it.

And yet, this pain feels right.

This pain means you succeeded.

Your mana surges, a feeling that you have not felt for what feels like ages.

You look upon him.

A swordsman, strong-shouldered, clear-eyed, and regal in stature stands before you amongst the scattered petals. You've seen many Servants in your time, each one different than the last. The great variations found within the consistent patterns of history and stories.

This knight, with shining armor and proud bearing says--

"I ask of you…"

"...Are you my Master?"

[annetdragony]

The conflict between Spawn and Lord fans in the Baldur's Gate 3 fandom reflects a general psychological tendency: people often strengthen their position by contrasting it with another's. This happens for several reasons: identifying themselves through contrast with others, creating a sense of belonging to a group of like-minded people, resolving internal conflict (cognitive dissonance), and the desire to defend their view of the character. However, it is important to distinguish between constructive criticism and aggressive humiliation. The former is based on analyzing arguments and expanding the dialogue, while the latter is a sign of weak argumentation and a low level of intellectual development. Aggression can arise from an emotional reaction, uncertainty in one's position, or the influence of cultural norms of the Internet.

It is especially interesting why Spawn fans spend so much time discussing and condemning Lord. One of the reasons is that Astarion becomes a more complex and polarizing character after Ascension, which makes him an ideal target for criticism. For some Spawn fans, their choice is perceived as a defense of a more "human" and "ethical" version of the character, and they feel the need to "call out" the other side to emphasize the validity of their path. This also ties into the "us and them" effect: active criticism helps to define clearer boundaries between groups and strengthens the sense of belonging to one's camp. Additionally, attention to another's position may be driven by a desire to prove that their chosen interpretation of the character is deeper or more meaningful.

Instead of putting down, one can choose more productive ways of communicating: explaining one's point of view, asking questions, and acknowledging the complexity of characters. Finally, instead of focusing on criticizing another's position, a person can focus on promoting what inspires them, for example by creating positive content about their chosen path. Respecting other points of view, even in debates, promotes deeper and more interesting interactions within the community. Perhaps Spawn fans could use this time to create content that celebrates their favorite version of Astarion, rather than only criticizing the other side. This approach would allow them to better express their feelings and inspire others while maintaining constructive dialogue.

[freshthoughts2020]

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"Big Metal" is a bold and dynamic 9"x12" original artwork that brings an iconic character to life with striking detail and vibrant energy. Featuring a headshot of Metal Sonic, the piece showcases the character's menacing red eyes and futuristic design with electric blue tones and metallic accents. The meticulous shading and textured elements highlight the artist's skill and attention to detail, creating a captivating visual experience.

Perfect for fans of retro gaming, pop culture enthusiasts, or collectors of unique, character-driven art, "Big Metal" is a framed original that makes a powerful statement. Its sleek and edgy design is ideal for adding a touch of nostalgia and personality to any space.

Add "Big Metal" to your collection today and celebrate the artistry of a timeless icon.

Signed and dated by the artist. Framed Dimensions: 9"x12" Medium: Colored pencils and markers on high-quality paper.

[historianofoz]

I Feel like this needs to be said because I know the cool thing is to not sort people into Gryffindor anymore BUT Elphaba is a Gryffindor.

She’s got some strong Hufflepuff attributes in there, but Elphaba had a strong desire to be recognized.

“A celebration throughout Oz that’s all to do with me!”.

“Held in such high esteem. When people see me, they will scream”

“Was I really seeking good? Or just seeking attention?”

Someone doesn’t need to desire glory to be a Gryffindor, but Elphaba does have that aspect. Elphaba has a heart of gold and genuinely wants justice for the animals, but Gryffindors can also want justice, as they have very strong ideals. It’s her desire for recognition and her bravery, nerve, and daring that firmly put her into Gryffindor, as opposed to the other houses. The only thing that breaks her desire for recognition is when she realizes it will sacrifice her ideals. This is also Gryffindor as they are ideal/cause driven.

And Glinda? Yeah, she's a Slytherin. I don't think any of us really disagree with that. And it actually makes so much sense. Gryffindor and Slytherin are two sides of the same coin. The Slytherin will do anything to achieve their goals. A Gryffindor, while they really want to reach their goals, will not sacrifice their ideals. It describes them both perfectly and their decisions in Defying Gravity.

[princessjojo-x]

LeoVenus ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

💝 he wears his heart on his sleeve & always approaches love with bravery. he’s never shy to make the first move & he’s very open abt who he has a crush on. he doesn’t even try to hide his feelings bc he knows he’s bad at it.

💝 initially, he’ll act more like a house cat rather than a lion. he’ll analyse & observe his love interest with a straight face & detached vibe. he’ll leave her guessing & pinning after his affections, which can make her feel unwelcome & unwanted by him. however, once she’s won him over & he realises her worth, he’ll pounce & hunt her down. at this stage he’ll become more open, talkative & friendly with her.

💝 he may cause arguments within rxship out of boredom bc he’s drawn to drama & fireworks. also, his bruised egos may lead to passive-aggressive behaviour & prolonged sulks.

💝 he loves himself first & won’t let you forget that. driven by the desire to be admired & adored, he can come across as snobby & is likely to prioritise his own needs over his partners, leading to an imbalance in the rxship.

💝 he hangs on to dying rxships bc he’s extremely loyal & forgives easily. he desperately needs to be loved & feel love for someone.

💝 when he experiences breakups, he maintains a strong & confident exterior, even if he’s hurting internally. he’ll struggle with his wounded pride & ego. consequently, he might seek validation & attention from others to boost his self-esteem during this vulnerable time.

💝 it’s unlikely he’ll hide his partner bc he prefers to love out loud. he wants a partner he is proud of & is proud of him in return.

💝 he is the best gift giver amongst all the venus signs & he is especially generous with his partner.

💝 sexually, he is open to adventures & experiments as long as it doesn’t lead to a sense of humiliation.

💝 he has an inherent ability to radiate positive motivation, make others feel special & validate people’s point of view. the only time he doesn't fill someone with extraordinary support is when he realises that person is a potential competitor.

💝 you rarely see him have ugly days bc he’s so well kept.

💝 he enjoys being around people & feels lonely easily.

Turn On’s:

💝 leo placements are known to have a lot of confidence, yet leo venuses tend to question their place in their partners lives a lot & need constant reassurance to feel sure of their partner’s love for them. he wants constant attention, obsession & expression of emotions from his partner. he even likes his partner to beg for his attention. he feels loved when being spoiled, praised & applauded so tell him you’re proud of them. he has a fundamental need for positive & supportive feedback. if it's negative or not supportive enough, he can inwardly feel unworthy. compliment him but only genuinely & at the right timing.

💝 he loves grand gestures & larger displays of love.

💝 he prefers to be the leader or in charge since he hates taking orders. but he needs a woman who is strong & assertive, not weak & caving in.

💝 he dates for a good time, not to be overly serious. he enjoys flirting & playing around. playing is very important to this placement so whenever you are together, wherever you are, whatever boring thing you are doing they will make it fun. promise him fun, adventure & laughter. he needs a partner who is the life of the party (outgoing, warm, happy, optimistic. honest caring).

💝 he enjoys chasing (playing cat & mouse) so ensure to be hard to get.

💝 he wants a partner who’s like a celebrity, catching everyone’s eye, but only having eyes for him.

(popular, sociable, respected, widely attracted, impressive, sought after, bold, confident, radiant, charismatic, proud). she is sure of herself, has strong values & high respect for those she’s closest to. she makes noise wherever she goes & rarely lets other people override her opinion.

💝 his ideal lover will have a fire sign sun, moon or asc.

💝 he wants a partner who is always overdressed in attention grabbing clothing bc he wants everyone staring at her! he likes anything shiny, bold, extra, unique, extraordinary, creative & fun; titties out, booty out, excessive makeup, XL acrylics, hoop earrings, leopard print, designer accessories, tacky clothing, flower crowns, highlighters, gold eye shadow, crop tops, etc. dress brightly in colours ruled by the sun (yellow, bronze & gold).

💝 all fire venus’s want a passionate partner who encourages them to be confident & expressive, they want someone to be proud of them.

Turn Off’s:

💝 someone who is negative, selfish, patronising, unoriginal & domineering.

💝 never judge him for being generous or kind to you/others.

💝 don’t ever question or humiliate him in public.

💝 if you do something to try make him feel insecure in himself. (same for all fire venus)

💝 ghost him (this will HURT)