#This was only supposed to be 500 words

[sapphicshitandsuch]

3 and 15 :)

Yennefer meandered rather slowly through the corridors of Aretuza, her footsteps echoing against the stone floors. Her reappearance after Sodden had made for a strange day of both warm welcomes and hostile, suspicious glances, and as the sun set for the evening, she yearned for the solitude she would need to recenter herself. 

Especially after her reunion with Tissaia. The memory of the morning’s events replayed in her mind, each detail burned into her brain. She had expected a measured, distant reception from the Rectoress, perhaps a few words of acknowledgment, maybe even a brief inquiry into her well-being.  

But what she received instead had been far more overwhelming. 

Tissaia had embraced her, taking her by complete surprise at the sheer emotion of the gesture. The sincerity in her reaction, the intensity that shone brilliantly in those sapphire eyes undid something tightly wound within her. 

And then the words were exchanged – she had been so open and vulnerable in a way that Yennefer had rarely known her to be. It was as though a wall had come down, revealing a side of Tissaia that Yennefer had only ever caught glimpses of in fleeting moments.  

She had thought her feelings for the woman to be mere relics of her school days, when she had admired the Rectoress from a distance, mistaking her affections for respect. But those feelings had been reignited with a force that was impossible to ignore in the events leading up to Sodden. Like her own flames, those events had burned away any pretense Yennefer might have held about the nature of her emotions. She cared for Tissaia in a way that went far beyond admiration. 

And now, after that morning’s interaction, it felt as though those emotions were threatening to spill over entirely. The thought of Tissaia – of how easily she had undone Yennefer’s defenses with a single hug – left her feeling horribly vulnerable. It was all almost too much to process. 

Even now, hours later, Yennefer shook her head, trying to clear the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She needed a moment to breathe and sort through the tumultuous feelings that had resurfaced with such force.  Decompressing in the bathing pool seemed to be her most appealing option. It was a luxury she had scarcely taken advantage of as a student, having always been too self-conscious of her deformities to fully enjoy the experience. The thought of being so exposed to the gazes of others had always outweighed any relaxation the water might have provided. 

Upon entering the room, Yennefer’s senses were immediately greeted by the enchanting warmth and tranquility of the room. The steam that rose from the water was infused with scents of lavender and jasmine, filling her lungs and instilling an instantaneous sense of calm. But the moment was short-lived as she caught a glimpse of the neatly folded robe on the far ledge of the pool, and a quick glance at the water told her she was not alone. 

There sat Tissaia, submerged to her shoulders with her eyes closed, head resting back against the ledge. She appeared more serene and unguarded than Yennefer could ever recall seeing her. Silently, Yennefer turned on her heel, aiming to make a quick escape before the other woman noticed her presence. She hadn’t taken more than two steps towards the door before Tissaia’s voice broke the silence. "Don't leave on my account, Yennefer. The water really is quite divine."  

Yennefer’s heart jumped to her throat at Tissaia’s invitation.  She swallowed, trying to maintain her composure, as though one of her oldest fantasies wasn’t playing out in front of her very eyes.  Free from the constraints of its usual elaborate chignon, her chestnut hair was loose, damp, and slicked back behind her bare shoulders. The older woman was clearly naked beneath the water’s surface, and Yennefer was glad that her eyes were still closed so she couldn’t see the way violet eyes lingered perhaps just a little too long. 

“No, ah... Sorry.  I didn’t expect anyone else to be here at this hour.” Yennefer muttered awkwardly, trying to muster her usual confidence as she fumbled for a response. Despite her refusal, Yennefer could not break her gaze of the skin that was exposed—the elegant curve of her neck that swooped to meet her shoulders, the hollow dip at the base of her neck, and delicate collarbones, all glistening with drops of water.   

"Nonsense. I insist." Tissaia opened her eyes now, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Unless you fear my presence will be too distracting?”  

“Do not flatter yourself, Rectoress, I believe I can manage.” Yennefer scoffed dryly in response, perturbed by the trace of amusement in Tissaia’s voice. Her trance was broken as her eyes snapped away, heat rising to her cheeks at the prospect of having been caught in her staring. Distracting – what in the world had she meant by that? Perhaps she had imagined it, but there seemed to be a challenge hidden in Tissaia’s response. And Yennefer was never one to back down from a challenge. “I simply did not wish to intrude on your solitude. But if you insist. You may be the distraction I needed after today’s chaos,” 

Feeling self-conscious for the first time in ages, Yennefer hesitantly approached the water’s edge, feeling the weight of Tissaia’s gaze intensely.  As if she had sensed her discomfort, Tissaia wordlessly turned her back, granting Yennefer a moment of privacy. Grateful for the gesture, Yennefer quickly slipped out of her gown, the cool air making her shiver as she swiftly slid into the pool. She settled across from Tissaia with a soft sigh, the initial awkwardness dissipating with the soothing warmth of the mineral-enriched water. “I must admit, you’re right. This is a rather nice reprieve from the vultures that have been circling me all day.”  

“Yes, it seems your reappearance has caused quite the stir." Tissaia chuckled softly as she began wading towards her. Yennefer could feel her pulse rising with anxious exhilaration the closer she got, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Tissaia's approaching form. As Tissaia drew nearer, her gaze fixated on a mild scratch marring Yennefer's shoulder, one the younger woman couldn’t even recall obtaining. The sight of it seemed to trouble her, and silently, tentatively, she reached out her hand. Yennefer's breath hitched as Tissaia's fingers lightly brushed against around the reddened skin. She muttered a soft incantation, watching with satisfaction as the edges of the cut pulled together. But even after the scratch had vanished, she did not remove her hand, fingers gently trailing across Yennefer’s shoulder and down her arm. The sensation sending shivers down Yennefer’s spine, and she felt an odd mix of relief and longing when Tissaia finally removed her hand, her touch leaving a lingering warmth. Tissaia's proximity and the ambiguity of her gestures was both comforting and maddening. 

"I know I’m repeating myself, but I am profoundly glad to see you alive and relatively unharmed," Tissaia said, her voice soft and filled with an emotion Yennefer couldn’t quite place. "I never thought I would see you again." 

Yennefer's heart clenched at the sincerity in Tissaia's words, the vulnerability she was displaying catching her off guard. She struggled to find her voice in the face of such an intimate confession. "I'm ... sorry.” 

"Whatever for?” Tissaia's eyes softened, and a smile pulled at the corners of her lips again. One of her hands came forward to brush some stray curls out of the younger woman’s face. Yennefer cursed the way that her breath hitched as Tissaia’s fingers combed through her scalp and brushed against the shell of her ear.  She was certainly close, but was Tissaia leaning in slightly closer than was normal? Did her eyes linger just a fraction longer on Yennefer’s lips? Was it her imagination, or did Tissaia’s hands linger a moment longer than necessary? Every detail was relentlessly analyzed and dissected for hidden intent.  

“You’ve endured ordeals that few could withstand since Sodden. My girl, your strength and resilience never cease to amaze me." 

The younger woman swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat, choosing instead to focus on the only other thing she could, which was the woman in front of her.  Had she ever seen the woman with her hair down? She didn’t think so; it was a stunning sight to behold.  She found it mesmerizing how perfectly it seemed to frame the sharp features of her face. She watched as one of her eyebrows twitched upward and realized with muted dismay that she had once again been caught staring.  

"I’ve never seen your hair down.” She responded much more coolly than she should have been able to manage, opting to change to subject to something lighter. “Tell me, are you giving your scalp a break, or did you just lose all your hairpins?” 

"Contrary to popular belief, my hair is not glued permanently into place. It likes to breathe every now and then." Tissaia’s features twitched with amusement, her words carrying an undercurrent of warmth with her retort.  

“Well, it suits you.” Yennefer assures, lips curling ever so slightly. Then she chanced, “I can see why you keep it so firmly contained when you teach. I wouldn’t have learned a thing during your lessons. It’s quite the distraction.” 

Before Tissaia could respond, the sound of laughter and approaching footsteps echoed from the entryway, and Sabrina entered, followed closely by Triss.  

Yennefer instinctively took a step back, her smile tightening as she tried to steady her nerves. Objectively, there was nothing unbefitting about the way they had been positioned when the others entered. But the way Tissaia’s gaze seemed to ignite her skin – even more than the warmth of the water – made their proximity feel far less innocent. 

"Yennefer, welcome back!" Triss called out cheerfully, beaming brightly as she strode toward them.  

As Triss perched on the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water, Sabrina joined them in the pool, greeting the both of them with a grin.  Tissaia’s foot brushed against Yennefer’s under the water as she shifted out of Sabrina’s way, the touch light and seemingly accidental. But Yennefer's heart skipped a beat, and she abruptly pulled her foot back and put a few more inches between them. 

Sabrina stretched out with a groan of delight. "This feels utterly divine."  

Yennefer nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt a foot graze the side of her thigh. Her eyes darted to Tissaia. 

“Indeed it does.” The Rectoress responded with a thoughtful hum. Her expression remained neutral, but Yennefer caught the flash of amusement in her eyes, and her mind reeled. Had she done that on purpose? Gods, did Tissaia know what she was doing to her? 

"However, loathe as I am to leave, I have a few matters that require my attention this evening." Tissaia declared, with finality, giving Yennefer a strange jolt of both relief and disappointment. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.” 

All three of the younger mages bid her a good night in return, and Tissaia regarded each of them with a brief nod of her head, though her gaze lingered just a little longer on Yennefer before she rose. The raven-haired woman watched intently as Tissaia gracefully stepped out of the pool. Unable to look away, violet eyes traced every movement as the droplets of water cascaded down her back. Her gaze traveled slowly up Tissaia’s body, from her ankles, past her toned calves, creeping up the backs of lean thighs until Tissaia pulled her robe on with practiced elegance, effectively covering the rest of Yennefer’s view. 

As the Rectoress turned to leave, she paused, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint as blue eyes met violet one last time. "And Yennefer," She purred, her voice infused with an unmistakable hint of flirtation, "I hope you find tonight’s distractions to be just what you need." 

[istra-ish-sucha-geek]

My Discussion Post for Practicum November 9

This topic is acutely apropos, even though this article was written before the precipitating even 8 years ago of the first election of Donald Trump. In the intervening eight years, political division has continued to rise, natural disasters are increasing, and the tools in this article are of even greater necessity. The primary conclusion of this article is that yes, therapists should speak to their clients regarding world politics and news. The article offered several was to broach the subject with clients: posting a letter publicly in the office, asking client's in session, and sending an email inviting conversation to clients. Recent online discourse has been revolving around if it is appropriate to ask your therapist how they voted during the election. This conversation is being picked up by therapists and clients. Clients, especially LGBTQIA+ and women clients are expressing that therapists who don't answer or who answer "Trump," are therapists they no longer feel safe with. Some therapists are arguing that revealing who you voted for is too much self-disclosure; others are saying this should not be a problem to disclose; others are vehement that not only should you disclose, it should be obvious who you voted for. This current discourse complicates some of the suggestions from the article, as an invitation to speak about things could be seen as an invitation to ask who you voted for, which is generally considered private information. However, withholding information could also clearly damage rapport.

In my own practice this week, I have had some clients with the current election on their minds, and some who did not care. The clients who were experiencing distress did not ask me how I voted, however, it was clear from their attitude they were certain of who I had voted for, and there was no need to ask.

Guidelines for political discussion were also helpful. The focus should be on how clients were impacted emotionally and socially by politics or world conditions. When clients "rabbit trail" down a rant, a counselor should redirect them back to how they are personally being impacted. Finally, it is recommend that when appropriate, the therapist share in their own human grief about world (or local) events,  and "join as a fellow human" in the emotional response to tragedy.

Civic engagement is a way clients can feel centered and empowered in the midst of political unrest and tragedy. It is a way to ground oneself and not be rattled by ongoing events. Loneliness can be a significant contributor to stress, anxiety, and depression symptoms. Being connected to other people in civic movements, protests, and activism, is a way to minimize fear and embrace the power a human does have (Hunter, 2024). That connection can also lead to community with resources to ride out political upheaval or natural disasters. Connection is vital for human survival, both as an individual and as a communal creature. Additionally, civic engagement and communal connection can give help humans envision a hopeful future. Hope is a necessary weapon for the human psyche against darkness and trying times.

While Buczynski had excellent points for the time of the article, there has been significant shifts in the ensuing 8 years. Globally, and nationally, we have experienced a pandemic the likes of which had not been seen for 100 years (the 1918 Spanish Flu),  a contentious election in 2020 with a violence breaking at the White House on January 6, several natural disasters that broke previous records of destruction, and a continuing political divide of extremism and rhetoric while political powers wrestle back and forth. It is difficult to research events as they unfold; hindsight is 2020, and 2020 is barely four years ago. The current discussion regarding therapists, client's feelings of safety in the therapeutic relationship, and voting disclosure, would not have happened 8 years ago. The landscape of social media has dramatically changed in the last 8 years with the advent of TikTok and its direct to user interface. For several people of younger generations, social media is their primary news outlet (Pew Research Center, 2024). This has contributed to an immediacy of information dissemination through the people (including significant inaccuracies or misleading information), and access to professionals and professional spaces that was not previously available. These all impact how a client receives information, relates to information, and reacts to information. Being civically engaged can look significantly different in 2024 than it did in 2016.

This can impact how therapists apply the principles and guidelines Buczynski recommends. Many therapists have a professional, online social media account, and use that to communicate with clients. Given the 2024 Pew Research Center information, a social media post may be more effective at reaching clients than posting a letter in the office, or even an email. Additionally, due to the same social media, it is foolish to suppose clients will be ignorant and uninfluenced by the discourse on social media between clients and therapists. It is possible a client come in and demand to know who their therapist voted for, or there may be a more subtle bid for information. Social media can also give clients greater access to emotional and community support, as well as more opportunities for civic engagement. However, depending on the spaces they frequent, social media could also increase hopelessness, frustration, and burn out. While the principals of Buczynski's suggestions are still relevant, it is important to consider how to apply them in the significantly different social, political, global and online world we live in now.

:

Buczynski, R. (2016, July 15). How to Help Clients Process Their Fears about World Events - NICABM. NICABM. https://www.nicabm.com/trauma-how-to-help-clients-process-their-fears-about-world-events/ Links to an external site. 

Hunter, D. (2024, November 4). 10 ways to be prepared and grounded now that Trump has won. Waging Nonviolence: People Powered News and Analysis. https://wagingnonviolence.org/2024/11/10-things-to-do-if-trump-wins/

Pew Research Center. (2024). Pew Research Center: Social Media and News Fact Sheet. United States.[Web Archive]. Retrieved from the Library of Congress: https://www.pewresearch.org/journalism/fact-sheet/social-media-and-news-fact-sheet/

[auntiejohn]

how the flip do I write an artist analysis

[tethered-heartstrings]

i'm basically done with writing my will/hannibal smoking ficlets. there are over a dozen different ones based on prompts from an old post of mine ranging from about 500 - 2k words a piece. they aren't inherently connected at all and are meant to be standalone fics, related only by the overarching theme of smoking. i haven't written anything like this before so want opinions/input.

*if i post them as one "fic", each chapter/story will have their own tags listed in the beginning and all the collective tags listed under the "fic". if i do a toc, it'll at list titles and prompts. no toc then prompts will be listed before the fic with the tags for said fic. each fic does have a title if that makes any difference

also not inherently bad to rb but don't bc the poll is really just for me lol

[powerfultenderness]

“Close your eyes for me love.” ? >:3

Lulu! ❤ lol i'm still very much into Stalker!Adrian, but now with a teeny tiny tad bit of a twist!!

Word count: 1000 Warnings: canon typical violence

You were absolutely the most important person in Adrian’s life. After the whole butterfly incident the team went their own ways, even Peacemaker left Evergreen, again. That left you as the only person in town that he cared for. He just…had to work up the courage to actually talk to you!

But not now. Maybe the next time you came into the restaurant. You liked eating there, he noticed. In fact, he noticed a lot about you. It was easy; you were a creature of habit. It meant that even if he couldn’t watch out for you in person, he knew where to find you.  

Like right now, you should have been at home, in your pajamas and cuddled up in bed. But you weren't home. 

He cursed under his breath and jumped off of your balcony. He had to retrace the steps of where you should have been! 

Luckily you were just a block from your apartment complex, but rage filled his core as he saw a man twice your size slam you into a wall, one hand around your throat while the other moved down where he couldn’t see. 

Faster than he could ever remember moving, he pulled the man off of you, your gasped coughs only adding to his anger, and shoved him to the other side of the alley. 

“Close your eyes for me love.” He growled out as he raised his gun at the man, only hesitating a moment to let you close your eyes. 

You did not.

You could not.

You watched as he pulled the trigger, bullet bursting through the man’s skull sending blood and flesh and brain matter across the red brick wall. Brick red and blood red were so different. Neon against the darkness of night.

As much as your mind tried, you could find no pattern in the goopy, stringy, mess slowly being pulled down by gravity. It wasn’t until another shade of red, brilliant and gleaming, obscured your sight did you gasp for a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Vigilante filled your senses, your eyes locked onto his red visor, he smelled of gunpowder and oil, his voice was pleasantly low, not deep and booming and intimidating, but low enough that his worried words (what was he saying?) were able to cut through the temporary tinnitus. 

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath when you didn’t respond to him a third time. And only because you were worth it, you were worth everything to him, he pulled off his mask and gently cradled your face in his hands, calling your name in hopes of snapping you out of this daze you were in.

“Adrian?” You whispered, shocked, as your eyes locked with his.

His eyebrows scrunched up in the cutest way. “You know who I am?” 

Of course you did, he was only the man you were harboring a major crush on. Some people might even consider you a stalker, for all the times you showed up at his work place just for a glimpse of him. Fennel Fields was mediocre Italian food, at best! But you eventually figured out his schedule and couldn’t help but eat there twice a week, just to stare at him. A little creepy, but how he fueled your dreams!

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You snatched the Vigilante mask out of his hand and shoved it back over his head. “You can’t let the cops see you like that!” 

Sure, you knew he was Vigilante, but this was the first time you had actually seen him kill someone. You were grateful for that, you didn’t want to think of what your attacker would have done had Vigilante not shown up.

You then grabbed his hand and started to drag him away from the murder scene and towards your apartment. 

Vigilante stumbled a bit, “uh, you’re not freaked out?”

“That you saved me? No.” 

You decided not to tell him that you often took unnecessary risks with your safety because you were pretty sure he was always following you. He didn’t need to know that you knew his secret. “Thank you for that, by the way.” 

“Oh! You’re welcome!” You could hear the smile in his voice. He had such a sweet voice, you’d only ever heard it in passing before, but aimed at you it somehow sounded brighter. 

“Are you trying to take me home?” He asked, like he didn’t know where you were leading him. 

Right on cue policed sirens echoed through the night and you picked up your pace. “Just until the police go away.” 

“Smart.” 

It only took a few more minutes before you were pushing him inside your apartment.

Now that he was inside, and the risk of other people seeing him gone, he pulled his mask off again and put his glasses on. “How do you know my name?” He circled back.

“How do you know my name?” 

He coughed, “it’s uh, my super power! Yea! I’m really good at guessing names!” 

…

“Me too.” You blinked, biting your lip to try and hold back a grin. 

“You have a super power?” His little gasp was cute. “I mean, I have a superpower because I’m a superhero. But-”

“Do you wanna fuck?” Now that you had the man you’d been crushing on for weeks in your home and an excuse to keep him here, you might as well go for it. 

“What?” He immediately dropped his ramble, eyes going wide and jaw slack as he processed your question.

“We probably have some time to kill while the cops-Mmh!” 

He practically lunged himself at you, hands gently but firmly pulling your face to his, crushing his lips against yours as he swallowed the rest of your words.

Adrian really didn’t care what the rest of your sentence was going to be, all he knew was that the one person he’d been dreaming for months was offering to fuck him! He wasn’t going to let this opportunity go! 

[Protective Prompts]

[fantastic-nonsense]

"all of these sections should be under 2500 words" I said. "keep them all relatively short and to the point" I said. "it will be easier to finish" I said. what about when I can't figure out what the point is and I just keep writing more and more trying to figure it out???

[psychoticwillgraham]

tfw ur still trying write a fill for a bingo event that ended in July and u wanna just get straight to the porn but ur still stuck on the buildup :(

[etoilesombre]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Exorcist (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Marcus Keane/Tomas Ortega Additional Tags: Angst, Masturbation, The Fucked Up Inside of Marcus Keane's Head, Canon Typical Religious Perspectives Summary:

Marcus doesn't think of the other man in the room when he touches himself.

It’s not that he believes God will judge him. In the ranks of his sins, this can hardly factor, and he has seen far too much to credit the notion that abiding by God's rules might serve to win back his favor. God is far too vast to have time for such pettiness.

But the demons aren't.

[traumatas]

I told myself id just write a short epilogue. This is draft two and still missing the last little bit.

[cloudwhisper23]

Ha, so this is going to be a lot longer than I thought it was going to be.... Turns out writing a time loop where someone is killed by their future self over and over again takes more than one take. Gosh, why can't I write something the length I want it?

[kn1ght-l1ght]

"Huh why is this part near the border of the US & Mexico so barren-"

I don't think people on the West Coast understand how much denser and multipolar the US is east of the Mississippi

[tansyuduri]

That feeling when you go on a merlin episode binge because YOU NEED TO GET TO A CERTAIN EPISSODE FOR YOUR FANFIC

[hyunin]

why do i want to gif rn of all things when that’s the ONE thing i CAN do while i watch my puppy...can i please make good use of my time and do literally anything else

[suhkusa]

THE KISS BET.

PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader

SUMMARY. Your friends bet you to kiss Katsuki Bakugou. Fortunately for you, they’re offering you $500 for it. Unfortunately for you, the two of you absolutely hate each other.

CW. third year, angst to fluff, light hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, mature humor, feelings, language

WC. ~2.8k

A/N. enjoy :3

You and your group of friends had a running gig. Bets. 

The group would bet one person to do something, on a scale from normal to outrageous, and that person’s turn wouldn’t end until they complete that bet. Of course, depending on how crazy the bet is, everyone would put in some amount of money. 

The most you’d gotten was $100 total from accepting a date from creep in the business class. Worst date of your life, but Jirou felt bad so she gave you an extra $50. 

As the lot of you gather around the campfire, everyone offers up their money to Mina who had just done her bet to put laxatives in Kirishima’s drink. There were a lot of questions about the morality of it, but you ignored it and gave her a crisp $20. 

“Y/N~ it’s your turn!” Ochako gleed. 

You roll your eyes, “I feel like I just did my other bet, which by the way was shit,” the girls laugh at your words. “I feel like all of you get the easier ones,”

“Easy? I had to kiss Monoma, do you know how hard that was? He knows I’m lesbian so imagine how hard that was for me to convince him,” Yaoyorozu sighs with a palm to her face.

“Oh, whatever,” Mina says with a clap of her hands, “You want a hard one, Y/N?”

“I mean that’s the whole point of paying each other to do bets, they’re supposed to be hard,” 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Mina smirks before standing up and pointing at you. 

“I bet you $100,” your ears perk up.

“-to kiss–,” your eyes widen but listen nonetheless.

“Katsuki Bakugou,” your world falls apart.

“Mina, no,” 

“Y/N, yes,” she jumps up and down, “It’s too late, I already said it,”

All the other girls are hooting and hollering, but you just sit there in silence as you stare at the flames. Are you really going to try this?

As you consider your options the other girls start placing their bet offerings.

“$75 from me,” Tsuyu calls out.

Then from Hagakure, “$50,”

“$150,” from none other than Yaoyorozu. 

“I guess I’ll put in $80,” Jirou smiles at your misery.

“Hmm, I’ll even it out with $45, so $500 flat for you, Y/N,” Ochako smiles.

$500?!? You’d be outright stupid to deny such a big amount of money. But you’d even stupider to think Katsuki Bakugou would kiss you of all people. 

“I think that’s impossible,” you whine as the other girls poke fun at you.

“I guess only time will tell,” Mina grabs your hands and smiles, “Good luck, Y/N,”

—

You can hear the rambunctiousness of your class before you walk in. When you walk through the doors, your eyes scan the class before your eyes lock in on Katsuki Bakugou. You groan with a roll of your eyes before stomping your way towards him. 

“Hey, Katsuki,” you stare down at him, “You want to do me a favor,”

“For you? I rather eat shit,” he grumbles as he meets your gaze.

“You’re a freak,” you already knew this was going to be hard, “Please,”

“Mm, depends, what’s in it for me?” 

“I guess you’ll find out,” you say. “Kiss me,”

It feels like the class goes silent as the two of you continue to just stare at each other. He opens his mouth then closes it. 

“You– The fuck?” His eyes are scattering as the words continue to process through his mind, “What a weirdo, hell no,” then he’s pushing himself out of his seat and making his way to the door.

“You know class starts in 5 minutes right?” you call to him.

“Fuck off,” he grunts as he shuts the door behind him.

Yep, definitely hard. 

—

The next time you bother Bakugou for a kiss is when the two of you are paired up for combat training. Much against his will. 

“Katsuki~” you call out as you dodge another blow from him. “You can’t avoid me forever,”

“Yes-” another explosion, “I can,”

You go on the offense as you continue, “Just a peck, please. I’m a good kisser, I promise,” 

“You’re shit,” he’s grumbling between dodges of your attacks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you send him a wink before getting a hit on him. 

Bakugou groans, about to send another remark, when the training ends with a blow of a whistle.

The two of you meet eyes one last time, “Think it over, kay?” you smile before walking away.

—

Knock, knock. 

You stand at Bakugou’s door.

“Go away, perv,”

“Aw, how did you know it was me? You missed me?”

“I can just tell by the stench,” 

You laugh a little at his words, “Please, let me explain to you and maybe you’ll reconsider,” 

You can hear footsteps, and you smile. When he opens the door he’s adorned in his classic black tank and some sweats.

“You should put some clothes on, perv,” you mock. “Anyways, it was a bet from my friends and there’s $500 on the line, so if you would just–”

“I don’t kiss just anyone, princess,” the nickname causes you to fluster, but you shake it off as he continues, “You gotta earn it,”

He’s got a stupid smirk on his face, and you didn’t even realize it but he’s definitely leaning closer to you. It’s sending butterflies– well maybe more like moths– into your stomach. 

“What the– You’re definitely the pervert. I’m just going to ask to call it off,” you fake gag, “Later, loser,” 

“You’ll be back, nerd,”

You internally groan as you hear him shut the door, ignoring the intense heartbeat in your chest.

—

“No,” Mina says.

“What?! I told you it’s impossible,” you argue, all of your friends on the other side of the argument. 

“No it’s not, he said you had to earn it right?” Mina retorts, “So obviously there’s a way, you’re just stubborn,”

“You’re really not asking me to… You guys are crazy. Please, please, I’ll take anyone else, anything else,” 

“Sorry, Y/N, it’s the rules,” Tsuyu looks at you with pity.

“He hates me and I hate him! That’s all there is to it. It’s not going to happen,”

“Why do you guys even hate each other? It’s our third year, get over it already,” Jirou teases. 

“Because he’s a dick and I refuse to let him walk all over me! I just cursed him out one time for calling me weak. He’s the one who holds grudges because of his fragile, little heart,” 

“You should’ve known he’d hold that against you, but I honestly doubt he hates you because of that,” Mina says. “He probably thought you looked hot,” she laughs.

Heat rushes to the tips of your eyes, “Whatever, all of you are weirdos. But anyways-”

“No, Y/N,” Mina states, end of subject.

“You all just want me to kill myself,” you groan as you sink into the couch. “Whatever, but I’m going to force all of you to double your offering if I actually do this shit,”

The girls cheer. You cry inside. Anything for money, you guess.

—

It seems like the universe heard about the predicament you were in, because it felt like you were suddenly around him more often ever since the bet had been set.

“You know, I don’t want to be on patrol with you either,” you grumble, kicking at rocks as the two of you walk up and down the roads of the dorms.

“Glad we agree,”

Silence washes over you both. 

“Why don’t you want to kiss me? Am I ugly or something?” you ask, but it definitely comes off sadder than you intend.

“Don’t get all insecure because you don’t get a stupid kiss,” he looks the opposite direction of yours, “You know damn well you’re not ugly, so don’t piss me off,” 

He had a strange way of saying stuff.

“Aw, you love me, don’t you?” you tease, poking at his arm.

“Ah you dumbass, pay attention,” you snap back into place with a laugh, “‘M just saying you’re better looking than some of these extras,” 

You don’t know what to say in response to his words. Because they were surprisingly very sweet. 

Realizing he had said too much, he changes the subject. “Let’s go this way,”

You follow him with a nod.

There was definitely a certain type of tension lingering that the two of you walked in near silence for the rest of the patrol. 

You definitely were not repeating back his words in your head over and over again for the rest of the patrol. And Katsuki Bakugou was definitely not turning red because of what he said earlier. Definitely not. 

—

After that patrol, things seemed to sort of shift between the two of you. And to say it was scary was an understatement. 

Conversations wouldn’t always start off with the two of you insulting or cursing each other out. There’d be a hey or hello. If you guys saw each other in passing, he’d greet you with a nod of his head. Him being anything but passive aggressive towards you was terrifying because it was so not him. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out to you, you groan as you put your pencil down.

“I’m studying, what do you want, Katsuki?” 

“Come with me to the movies after school today,” it’s not really a question, more like a command. 

You put your hands to your mouth in fake(?) excitement, “You’re asking me on a date?! So kind, Katsuki,” 

“It’s not a date, idiot. I’m going with Ei and Denki later, they’re bringing Jirou and Mina. They were teasing me for not bringing anyone, so come,”

“If I don’t?” you muse.

“Be there or be square, nerd,” he doesn’t take your bait, but you can tell he’d prefer it if you go. He walks away before you can respond. 

Well, you guess you have plans later.

;;;

You meet up with the lot of them at the allotted time. The group walks together, and you thank God your friends have a questionable taste in men so you wouldn’t be stuck with some randos. But you also have half a mind to curse them out for leaving you to fend for yourself when you all arrive at the theater. 

They left you with no choice but to sit with Bakugou. Part of you really hates it, but not as much as you hate the rate at which your heart beats. 

For the most part, the two of you just sit there in awkwardness. The other couples indulge in that lovey dovey shit, and it makes you feel out of place. You zone out and get into your head. Was there a motive in asking you to come out here? He could’ve invited like… Midoriya… or Ochako… Or anyone, really. But, you? Does he like you? Or were you his last option to invite? Your head hurts from overthinking.

Your hand rests in your lap, picking at the material of your pants. At least that’s what it was doing. Until it happened. 

From the corner of your eye, you watch as Bakugou slid his hand into yours. His fingers finding a comfortable place between your own. You release a deep breath when you realize you were holding your breath. Is he out of his fucking mind?

Despite your efforts to try and justify how much you absolutely hate it. You didn’t even try to stop him. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t let his hand go. And even as the movie ended, you actually felt sad when he slid his hand away. 

The cool air of the night shocked you a bit when all of you made it outside. 

“We were thinking of grabbing a bite, did you guys want to come?” Mina exclaims. 

“Ooh, that sounds good, are you down, Jirou?”

“Sure, and you guys?” they all look at you.

“I- I have a stomach ache… Butter fucks with my stomach really bad,” the excuse is kind of weak, but still holds up as they all nod in understanding. 

“I can walk you to the dorm,” Bakugou offers, and you don’t really give him a yes or no, he just follows you.

Kirishima and Mina whistle and holler as the two of you part ways with the rest of them. 

Part of you regrets making up some stupid lie to go home. Because this was way more awkward than getting free pizza. 

The two of you are right by each other as you walk in silence towards the dorm. You wait. And wait. Wait for him to bring it up. Why did he do that? Why did he grab your hand? Was it all a front?

Why is he treating you so well?

Even as he drops you off at your room, he says nothing. Just a simple “Goodnight,” before he’s making his way to the elevator.

What an asshole.

—

So you take the initiative. The initiative in ignoring him. You weren’t some casual fling. Fuck the bet, fuck him.

When you saw him making his way towards you, you were quick to get up and rush out of the classroom. When he nodded your directions in passing, it was easy to just walk past and not acknowledge him. Whatever there was between you and him, was gone. Whatever “it” was, exactly. 

But you were okay. You guess. You were down $500 or $1000, but whatever. That game was bullshit anyways. You always got the worst bets. You kind of felt bad that you were the end of it, though. 

It was easy to avoid him. That’s what you thought. At least until one week later, you found yourself cornered by your dorm room with nowhere to go.

“What the fuck is up with you?” he’s angry, you’d be stupid if you thought otherwise.

You cross your arms and avoid his intense gaze, “Whatever do you mean?” 

He’s getting closer, and a tiny, like miniscule, part of you finds angry-him hot. “You know what the hell I mean, you’ve been avoiding me,” 

“Nuh uh,” you retort, still avoiding the subject at hand. “I’ve just been busy, sorry,”

“Like hell, Racoon Eyes said you’ve been in your dorm room everyday, so try again, asshat,”

Fucking Mina.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you poke at his chest, “Now get out of my way before I beat your ass,”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try,” he’s smiling with mockery.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like to be touched by me, you little virgin,” you inspect your nails in nonchalance, “Too bad, so sad, now move,”

“No, not until you answer me,” he’s a bit more serious now, you can sense it in his tone. 

You groan, “Fine, not until you answer me, though. Why the fuck did you hold my hand and act like it didn’t happen? Am I like a joke to you?”

He straightens up and his eyes widen. He looks to the side, then back at you.

“You’re fuckin’ smart, why don’t you take a guess?”

“You’re not a baby, why don’t you use your words?” 

You got him there.

“Maybe ‘cuz I like you, or something, idiot,”

You laugh. Laugh. Because he really thought you’d believe a stupid joke like that.

“You’re funny, but seriously, why did–”

A kiss. Katsuki Bakugou has always been known for his speed and his wit. But now you see it more than ever. As he steals a kiss from you. It happens faster than you’re able to even realize you’re leaning into it. 

When the two of you part, it’s tense again. You don’t know if you should say something but he takes that choice from you.

“You think that was funny?” he asks.

“Well- no, but–”

“No buts, that’s that,”

“I didn’t even say I like you back! What if I didn’t-”

“Oh, so you do?” you jump up in realization you fumbled your words. “Good to know, princess,”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying. How was I supposed to know you liked me? You’re such an asshole, you know?”

“Really? Because this asshole just got you some cash,” he laughs referring to the bet, “But y’know, I don’t let just anyone call me Katsuki,”

You grit your teeth before throwing a punch at his arm, “Annoying! Annoying, so annoying,” 

Another hearty laugh escapes from his lips as he pulls you into a hug. You didn’t even know Bakugou gave hugs. But you don’t mind it. 

“You’re such a pervert, I bet you’ve been looking forward to that kiss,” he teases.

“Yeah? Well you’re a pervert for even kissing me in the first place,”

—

YOU: pay up bitches

YOU: i’m talking double btw

[164 new notifications]

You were rich and in love. What more could you ask for?

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[kaiser1ns]

#. KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren, togame jo, takiishi chika, endo yamato

fluff. since when did you dream of a first kiss with the boy you like. and the chance finally came, but not everything turned out as imagined.

up to 500-600 words per scenario, i tried my best, sorry i'm still trying to describe romantic scenes womp womp, like and subscribe!

UMEMIYA HAJIME

You are so in love with this man that you can't get enough. Literally, you can't get enough of the way he is so oblivious to the hints you drop every single day. He is laughing yet again at something, surrounded by Furin first years and Hiragi at Kotoha's cafe. The desire to smack him on the head and tell him he is so stupid grows faster than the vegetables in his garden. Only Kotoha seems to notice your gloomy mood — you haven't touched the food she prepared, and it makes her worry.

"I'm going to give up if he doesn't do something soon," you tell your best friend, your voice tinged with frustration.

She pats your hand reassuringly. "It'll be okay. Don't mind Hajime's antics. Boys take time to develop, you know."

You thank her and finish your food, but you still want to go home. Being in his presence feels draining right now. You quietly say goodbye to Kotoha and immediately leave, while she wonders what she can do to help you out.

You aren't far away when you hear running footsteps behind you and the voice you knew all too well. "Y/N, wait for me, please!" It's Umemiya, running worriedly towards you. You turn to face him as he pants from the exertion. "Kotoha said you wanted to talk about something with me. Is that why you left?"

Oh my, this girl. How dare she does this to you? You didn't want to tell him, you were supposed to be mad at him. "It seems that I have forgotten what I was going to say," you murmur, turning on your heel to walk away again. But he hugs you from behind, his grip strong and tight, your back against his chest.

"You wanted to have your first kiss, right?" There it goes, your best friend spilled everything to her brother. "I've noticed everything you did to indicate your wants and needs. I was just waiting for the right moment, when we aren't with people, like this ..."

He lets you go, turning you around and kissing you. His eyes are closed, but yours widen in surprise. The feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your back makes you relax. You're a blushing mess, a whirlwind of butterflies and emotions coursing through you. Hands find their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat race as fast as yours.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness you've longed to see. "I'm sorry it took me so long," he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere. You smile, your heart swelling with the butterflies going there instead. "You better make it up for all the waiting."

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I guess I am a bit dense, huh?" You laugh, the sound light and genuine, laying your head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat once again as he hugged you "Just a bit."

As he walks you to your home, hand in hand, you can't help but think about Kotoha and how she played Cupid, knowing exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t.

SAKURA HARUKA

You’ve heard it all before, the endless litany of self-deprecation and doubt that spills from Sakurs’s lips like a broken record. It’s a familiar routine by now, his recounting of how he doesn’t deserve kindness or acceptance, how your sweetness to him feels misplaced. His voice wavers with each confession, half-hoping you’ll agree and half-fearing you’ll walk away.

“I don’t get why you’re so nice to me,” he says for the umpteenth time, eyes downcast. “I don’t deserve it.” Your eye twitches. You’ve had enough. The words repeat in your head, grating on your nerves. You care about him deeply, but his lack of self-worth is starting to drive you insane. He’s strong, capable, a fighter in every sense of the word—except when it comes to himself.

“Oh my god, Sakura, stop with this bullshit,” you snap, sharper than you intended. He blinks, taken aback. “Hah!?”

“Stop talking about yourself like that. It’s so frustrating. ‘I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve that.’” You mimic his tone, letting your irritation seep through. His eyes narrow, anger mixing with confusion. "Huh!?" He clenches his fists, the familiar motion of cracking his knuckles following. It’s a gesture meant to intimidate, but you’ve seen it too many times to be scared. “Shut up before I make you,” you threaten.

He meets your gaze gaze, unflinching. “Make me then. Let your fists do the talking.”

That’s it. The breaking point. You stand up abruptly, closing the distance between you. He braces himself, expecting a fight. You can see the conflict in his eyes, torn between his instinct to fight and his deep-seated fear of hurting you. Instead, you grab his face with both hands and pull him into a kiss. It’s sudden, forceful, and completely unexpected. His body tenses up, then melts against you, stunned into silence.

When you pull back, his face is a shade of red you didn’t think was possible to achieve. He’s a mess of incoherent sounds, his mind clearly struggling to process what just happened. “W-what… Huh!?”

“You shouldn’t talk so much crap,” you say calmly, sitting back down. “It’ll lead you to problems.”

He stands there, dazed and silent, a stark contrast to his usual self. You relish the quiet, the absence of his self-doubt hanging in the air. Finally, a moment of peace. Sakura haven't said a word all day, lost in his thoughts. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, hoping that your impulsive act has left an impression, that maybe he’ll start to see himself the way you see him.

SUO HAYATO

The boy himself, the living legend of making people accept his requests with his teasing smile, is sitting next to you. His beautiful dark brown eyes make you melt like chocolate left out in the hot sun. Suo Hayato, the enigma from the neighboring school, is here in your living room, surrounded by your scattered chemistry notes. You begged him for help with your homework, and in his usual style, he agreed with a condition. You, expecting another teacake request, readily agreed.

The two of you sit on the floor, papers spread out across the table. Hayato explains the properties of alkaline metals and their reactions. His hand occasionally brushes against yours, sending a jolt through your system each time. He notices your reactions, the subtle glances you steal, the way you tense and relax. He is enjoying himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“And that’s all. I’m sure you’ll ace the test, L/N-san,” he concludes with a smile.

A few days later, you find yourself beaming as you show him your test. Maximum points. You’re the only student with a perfect score, and Hayato knows it. His smile widens, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

“I knew you’d do it. But don’t you forget something?” he prompts.

Ah, yes, his reward. “No, I didn’t forget, Suo-kun.” You reach into your bag and pull out a box of homemade teacakes. “Here, just the way you like them.” He takes the box, smiling with one eye closed, the other hidden beneath his signature eyepatch. “Oh, thank you very much. So kind as always.” he pauses “But I wanted something sweeter.”

Confused, you stand there trying to figure out what he means. Wasn’t he on a diet? Perhaps you should brew him some tea. He chuckles, observing you and most possibly reading your thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want freshly brewed tea.” His voice is soft, but there's an edge to it. How does he always know what you’re thinking? Does he know you wanted to kiss him while you studied? His perceptiveness is both thrilling and intimidating.

“So what do you want?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. He closes the distance between you in a heartbeat. “You.”

Before you can process his words, his lips are on yours, warm and insistent. Your bag slips from your shoulder, landing with a soft thud. The kiss is everything you imagined and more, a perfect blend of surprise and inevitability. You feel the chemistry, the undeniable connection between element Suo and element Y/N, strong and unbreakable.

You pull away, still in shock, as he steps back. His hands are behind his back, holding the box of teacakes, but his eyes are fixed on you. He turns to leave, but glances back over his shoulder.

“I’ll be waiting for more chemistry tests to help you out,” he says, a promise in his voice. And you know, without a doubt, that his request will always be met.

KAJI REN

You had always admired the way Kaji Ren seemed to be in his own world, headphones clamped over his ears and a strawberry lollipop lazily balanced between his lips. He was lost in thought, probably wondering about you, always worried—if you needed help, how your day went, if there was someone he needed to deal with for you. His obliviousness gave you the perfect opportunity. You appeared in front of him and, snatching the lollipop from his mouth, putting it in your own.

"What the—" His initial reaction was irritation, a typical Kaji Ren tantrum brewing, until he saw you standing there, and that devilish look in your eyes. You were still in your school uniform, like you always are when he waits to walk you home.

"Oh, strawberry one. My favorite." You teased, a smile tugging at your lips. He scoffed, too tired to engage in your banter, as started walking behind you, when you suddenly stopped. Before he could react, you snatched his headphones and dashed off.

You were fast, but Kaji was faster. In a heartbeat, he caught up, slamming you gently against the nearest wall, his arms caging you in. You looked up at him, a devilish grin on your face.

"Now, what, Ren?" you taunted, breathless.

For a moment, he just stared, as if trying to figure out his next move. Then, in a move that surprised both of you, he grabbed the lollipop from your mouth and tossed it on the ground. His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger and urgency that sent the butterflies right into your stomach. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, tasting the sweet strawberry flavor that lingered on your lips.

You kissed back with equal hunger, your hands tangling in his hair. Time seemed to stand still as you both poured everything into that kiss. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, as you stared at the blonde boy.

"Do you want to try an apple flavor next time?" you asked, a teasing once again.

"Shut up," he muttered, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. He snatched his headphones back and started walking again, but you weren’t ready to let go just yet. You ran up to him and slipped your hand into his. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, but instead, he squeezed your hand tightly.

TOGAME JO

You never go into Shishitoren territory without Togame. He’s your personal bodyguard, a very fine one at that, and he insists on accompanying you every time. Texting him is a lost cause—he never responds. At least, that’s what he wants you to believe, even though your texts are the only ones he ever reads. So, you always call to tell him you are under the bridge, waiting for him.

Tonight, the two of you are wandering down a bustling street, searching for a pub to settle in. The crowd is big at this time of the night, and Togame keeps his hand firmly on your waist, ensuring you stay close. Despite him wanting to keep you close and safe, you are always slipping away, and it drives him crazy.

You meander through, your curiosity piqued by a very interesting shop window. Something inside catches your eye, and you pause to admire it. Meanwhile, he is frantic, scanning the crowd for any sign of you. When he finally spots you, relief floods his body, quickly replaced by an angry expression. The Shishitoren vice-capitain makes a note to buy the item for you tomorrow, but now is not the time. He strides over and grabs your hand, pulling you towards a quieter, more secluded area.

“What if something happened to you? Do you know how much I’d regret that?” His usual slow, measured speech is now rapid and laced with frustration.

You look down, guilt washing over you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He sighs heavily, his expression softening as he sees your sad face. Gently, he tilts your chin up, his fingers brushing away the few tears that have escaped. “Don’t cry now, pretty girl.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. You hadn’t expected your first kiss to happen like this, in a quiet, dimly lit alley, but it’s with Togame Jo, and that’s all that matters.

His hands cradle your face, thumbs tracing soothing patterns on your skin. You close your eyes, relaxing in his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. It is soft, tender, and unhurried. There’s no rush, no urgency—just the two of you in this moment. His lips are warm, and he takes his time, savoring the feel of you, as butterflies made their way to your stomach. When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, faces mere inches apart.

He presses his forehead against yours, a small smile playing making its way, reassuring you that everything was fine, “Just... don’t do that again, okay?”

You nod, still dazed from the kiss. He entwines his fingers with yours, leading you back to the crowded street, but this time, his grip is gentler, more safe. The bustling city seems a little less overwhelming with him by your side, and you can’t help but smile, stealing glances at him, your heart fluttering with every step. Togame catches your eye and squeezes your hand, his own smile growing wider.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

He showed up at your house, knocking on the window as you sighed, getting up from your bed. You, of course, let him in, seeing how he was again stained with blood that was not his. It was the same every time: he came to you so you could patch him up, fix him, give him a shower, change of clothes and a place to sleep in. You never ask questions, and he never offers explanations. Tonight is no different as you sit in his lap, bandaging his face and hands.

You're not a couple; you're not anything. It’s complicated. There are unspoken words between you, a delicate balance that neither of you dares to disrupt. As you sit on his lap and clean his face, you find yourself closer than before. His yellow eyes, intense and piercing, lock onto yours, heart races, each beat echoing in your ears. You’re getting closer, inch by inch. Hesitation grips you, your breath caught in your throat.

"Don't move." Just as you think of pulling away, his hand moves behind your head, gently but firmly pushing you forward. Your lips meet his in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s surprising, the gentleness of it, especially coming from someone as fiery and unpredictable as Chika. The kiss is brief, a fleeting moment that feels that for once you were something. When it ends, you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for any hint of what this meant to him. But his expression is the same as every day. And then you are back to becoming nothing.

For you, it meant everything. It’s a confirmation of the connection you’ve always felt but never acknowledged. But what did it mean for him? You're not sure, and you don't dare to ask. Not now. Maybe not ever. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. You can think about this later. Right now, he still needs you. You focus on his injuries, cleaning and bandaging.

Chika watches you work, his eyes never leaving your face. You can feel the weight of his gaze, and it only makes you more aware of your own feelings. But you don’t let it distract you. You finish bandaging his hands and move to check for any other injuries, your fingers brushing against his skin, meanwhile, he gently caresses your thighs with his thumbs leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

When you’re done, you lean back, surveying your work. He looks a bit better now, though still battered and bruised. You meet his eyes again, and this time there’s something different there. Something softer, more vulnerable — a golden hue reflects the dim light, adding a warm, almost ethereal quality to the sun.

“There all done,” you say quietly, unable to trust your voice to say more. You stand up, as you don't want to leave his embrace but you have to clean up the supplies scattered around and prepare a bath. As you move around the room to get him new clothes you can feel his eyes on you, following your every move. You wonder if he’s thinking about the kiss, about what it meant. You wonder if he feels the same confusion, the same longing, the same love.

ENDO YAMATO

The wind lifting strands of his dark hair and whipping them around his face. He’s talking about something, his tattooed hands tracing patterns in the air. But you’re not listening. You’re caught up in the way his lips move, the curve of his smile, the glimmering in his eyes.

"...and Takiishi was there, you know? Doing that thing he always does," Endo continues, oblivious to your silent longing. Takiishi Chika. Again. You frown, a little annoyed now. Why does he always have to bring up Chika?

"Endo," you say, softly at first, hoping to catch his attention. He doesn’t notice.

"Takiishi’s just so unpredictable. I never know what he’s going to do next."

"Endo," you repeat, louder this time. Still, he’s lost in his own world, his words tumbling out like the wind itself, unstoppable and carefree.

"And then, Takiishi—"

"Endo!" You say it sharply, frustration bubbling up inside you. He finally pauses, blinking at you in surprise. You take a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, before he can say anything, you reach up and grab his collar, pulling him down to your height. His eyes widen in shock, but you don’t give him time to react. You press your lips to his, silencing him in the most effective way you know.

Feeling his lips against yours, the taste of his breath mingling with your own. It’s not perfect. It’s rushed and a little clumsy, your noses bump awkwardly, and you can feel him tense. But it’s real. It’s happening. And it’s better than any dream.

When you finally pull away, he’s staring at you, confusing and amusing gaze. His hands, still raised from his gesticulations, hover in the air, uncertain.

"Ah," he says, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I’m not good at judging people, am I?" You laugh, knowing how he chooses people and how his expectations are later contradicted, that right now is happening with you, "No," you agree, your voice soft. "You’re really not."

He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I guess I was talking too much."

"A little," you admit, your heart still racing. "But it’s okay."

He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours, indicating his motives. "Can I try again?" he asks, his voice quieter now, the playful edge gone. You nod, your breath hitching in your throat. "Please."

This time, when he kisses you, it’s slower, more deliberate. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as you live your dream.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[leafzu]

Il Capitano, the First of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers.

The man you were betrothed to, well sold to to be precise by your parents. In order to gain the Tsaritsa's favor.

The man before you frightened you to say the least. He did not speak a word to you upon his arrival 'till now. Tall, dressed in dark clothes, face hidden, he was a mystery.

The chandelier above you sparkled, moonlight dancing across it as you walked towards him slowly. The man before you, dressed in black as always.

The wedding was nothing fancy. By the blessings of her majesty the Tsaritsa, you were wedded under the moonlight in a dark cathedral. The only white being the the moon and your moon bathed white wedding dress. Veil sparkling, the pain hidden underneath. Such a sorrowful face.

Weddings are supposed to be happy and full of love.

Love? You were a fool to think that love was written in the stars for you. How could you ever love the man in front. You were anything but a bride. A caged bird.

“This is where you will be staying.” A room bigger than your own. The moon can be seen clearly from the large windows. It was a beautiful room but a soulless one. “I presume you are going to be alright from here?” The first time he was talking to you. You nodded silently not wanting to talk. “If there's anything you're in need of, do not hesitate to ask. This is your home now.”

Home. Home was lost to you a long time ago.

The Captain was a man of very few words, but he wasn't ignorant. You were his wife, it was his responsibility to tend to you. And much to your surprise he never held you back from anything. You were free to do as you wish. Suddenly it didn't seem so bad being married to The Captain.

The Mansion became more livelier each day with your presence. It wasn't dark and empty as it was before. A little light was let in, flowers grew in the gardens, lively chatter could be heard.

The Captain was not ignorant. He was very evident of the changes around him, but paid no heed to it. He did not seem to mind and let you do as you wished to. Though, he would be lying if he said he didn't like the liveliness.

The relationship between you took time and effort to bloom. You didn't find him as intimidating as before and he started to see more than just someone to look after as a responsibility.

The Captain was emotionally distant to say the least. Attachments were something he strongly avoided. Being stripped of everything from the cataclysm 500 years ago made him into who he is today. His past appearance and self long gone.

Still, you manage to bring out a side to him he never thought he had before. Your smile, your presence, to him they bring a sense of...comfort? Not realizing it completely, he was starting to long for something more. And it could be said the same on your part.

The Captain was a mystery to you. From his appearance to him as a person, you didn't know anything about him.

Small conversations shared in the gardens was the only thing you had with him. Though it was mostly you who conversed. The Captain was a man of few words but he enjoyed listening to you. He became fond of it and slowly your time in the gardens only became longer.

“Red roses are meant to symbolize true love.” You looked up at The Captain sitting beside you in your garden. The Captain let you do as you wished with the gardens from your arrival. It was something that soothed the ache in your heart and brought happiness to you. The Gardens became more beautiful and full of life with your touch.

“And lilies are meant to symbolize innocence and purity.”

He saw you in the lilies, planted in a small area beside the garden pavilion. White lilies, very few of them planted.

His hand close to yours while you told him about the language of flowers. You wanted to touch his hands, a little part of it. Maybe a finger? But as you inched your hands closer to his, The Captain took notice of it and quickly retreated his hands.

“Ahem, I have a meeting to attend to. I will see you at dinner.” Left alone in the garden, the rejection of your touch hit deep within your heart. Maybe he did not like you after all. Maybe he's just letting you stay, an act of pity because you have nowhere else to go.

Unbeknownst to you, it hurt him just as much to reject you. It pained him to see the hurt on your face as you slowly drifted away into the gardens, away from his sight. But he cannot risk it. What if he tainted you with his rotten flesh? You would think of him as a monster.

Meetings with him in the garden became a daily in your agenda. You once put some blue orchid's on the back of his coat. Later when one of the fatui members pointed it out, he just let the flower be. He never threw the flowers given by you, instead he kept them preserved with his cryo delusion.

Unspoken confessions. He let you in slowly, and your heart also warming up to him.

“May I see your face?,” you asked one night, out in to the garden pavilion with him. Not a wink of sleep in your eyes so he offered to be your company. Your curiosity wasn't surprising to him. He knew this day would come, and he did not intend to hide anything. Truth can be hard to face.

“It's not a pleasant sight. My real appearance is long gone. All that remains are the decaying of flesh underneath.” It did not matter to you. You wanted to see what was underneath that mask. You wanted to see the real him. “I do not care. I want to see.”

The beat of your heart began to get faster as his hands reached for the mask. He had nothing to hide and so he took it off.

Maybe you were going to be disgusted with him or maybe you will keep your distance from him after this, were his thoughts. But as he saw your face, he could not quite read what you were thinking. “Your eyes.. they are like sapphire.”

“You are very unique."

The curse of immortality left him scarred for life. There are times he wished he was dead already, having lost his family and his comrades. His decaying flesh was his constant reminder of the curse put upon him.

But you, you saw the beauty in him. The beauty in his decaying nature. When you reached out to touch his face, he gently caught it and held it within his.

Unspoken confessions. Days went by, your affection towards each other grew more and more. He let you doze off on his shoulders in the garden pavilion while he read to you.

The Captain noticed your tiredness more frequent than usual. You would eat less at dinner and get tired after a few walks. It wasn't long before your body was caught up in a fever.

“Haven't you heard? The sickness has been discovered in Sumeru as well,” one of the fatui agents spoke. “The Akademiya is currently trying to discover what it could be.” “I heard there's no cure for it and that your body slowly weakens until you completely collapse.”

“How is she doing now?,” The Captain asked as he made way to your chamber. “Her state has not shown any improvement sir, the fever subsided a little but the body is getting weaker.” “Do everything that must be done to cure her.”

The doors to your chamber slowly opened. His footsteps quiet as to not wake you. He approached your bed. The slow rise and fall of your chest, mouth slight agape. You looked so peaceful in your sleep. He removed the glove from one of his hands and slowly reached out for your face. He wanted to touch your cheeks. The loose strands of hair were gently pushed aside by his rough calloused hands. He still had his human body form. Mostly the face and some parts were burdened with the curse.

The fever caught up again, your body kept getting weaker. And The Captain was starting to feel restless. The gardens became less lively, your visits less than frequent. Thick snow covered every part of the mansion.

Your current state was quite vulnerable to the ruthless cold of Snezhnaya. Still the garden looked ethereal and your mental state wasn't getting any better staying inside.

The snow made it quite difficult for you to move. Crystals formed around the pavilion which made it look like a little ice palace. The flowers.

You haven't tended to them in a while. But The Captain took care of your lilies. Fresh and white just the newly fallen snow. He was there, standing in front of the lilies. The lilies reminded him of you. Your purity and innocence. The Captain's eyes met yours. You looked just like a lily in that white dress coat.

And that innocent smile. A smile meant towards him.

Thick dark red covered the snow beneath your feet. You couldn't bear the pain in your throat and fell to your knees. Everything became cold, your fragile body fallen on the snow.

Your body was cold, shivering. It felt light as a feather in his arms. Your hands covered with blood, sticky clung to his feather coat as he carried you back. Your head against his chest. You felt safe in his arms. You wanted to stay like this, in his arms, always.

The Captain's heart dropped seeing the sight before him. Your body hitting the ground, the sight of blood. Your body fragile and weak in his arms. The heavy rise and fall of your chest. How much has the sickness spread for you to fall like this?

The doctors were called immediately. He put you from his arms onto the comfort of your bedchambers and stepped outside as doctors and maids rushed in. Blood still fresh on your hands.

If only he knew that was the last time you would be around, he would've held you longer.

Snow fell from the now dull sky of Snezhnaya. The gardens lost their color. The manor was stripped of light.

“She was a beautiful girl. It's a pity her time was so little,” were the Tsaritsa's words of comfort. The Harbingers all paid their respects to you. One by everyone but only The Captain was left standing in front of your grave. 500 years of cataclysm and only a few years with you.

The Captain visited your chambers one last time. Walking past things you once laid your fingers on. Only to come across a book on the table. A book of flowers. He took it in his hands and flipped through the pages where your touch once lingered. He noticed there was a little box beside where the book was

Something about it caught his eye and so he opened it. Inside was a letter.

‘To My Dearest Captain.’

Thank you for looking after me all this time. Your company has been a form of comfort to me. There are so many things I wished to say to you. You set me free and for that I will always be grateful. I wanted to travel the whole of Teyvat. Maybe if I get a little better, we can start by visiting The City of Freedom, Mondstadt.

Yours Truly.

A dried red rose bud was also inside the box along with the letter. It was meant for him. Red roses symbolize true love.

As the years went by, the lilies in the garden grew in number. In the little garden of white lilies, he saw you. Each and every lily was a reminder of you. The Captain visited your grave each year, leaving red roses and white lilies. He preserved the rose bud with his cryo delusion. And when there's a new spring without you, the newly planted red roses around the pavilion where you once listened to him read and shared the love of flowers with, bloom brightly and sway with the light breeze.

A new rose is planted each year by The Captain himself.

Red roses symbolize true love.

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