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ms-demeanor · 4 months ago

Note

On insurance: I still live with my parents and don't know a lot yet about the sorts of things adults usually have to spend money on. I've always been skeptical of things like insurance and credit cards because it seems to me they wouldn't be selling that if they didn't expect to make money from it. I talked to my cousin a while ago about credit cards and basically came to the conclusion that they do that because they're betting on the customer getting sloppy and letting their debts stack up, and the way you beat that and get money from credit card companies is just by being careful.

I'm a little more confused about insurance though because it seems much more straightforwardly like a gamble they will simply not take if it won't pay off for them. Like, you don't go to a casino because every game they play at a casino is one they've done the math on and have determined that statistically most people will lose money on most of the time. Is insurance not kinda the same? Where they estimate the risk and then charge you an amount calculated to make sure it probably won't be worth it for you?

I know if you have a car you legally need car insurance so everyone knows you can pay for another car if you crash into someone, and I gather that here in the US at least health insurance companies have some kinda deal with hospitals so that the prices go down or something, and there's a reason I don't fully understand why not having health insurance is Really Bad. But we get to pet insurance, or like when I buy a concert ticket and it offers ticket insurance in case I can't make it to the show, and surely if they thought they were gonna lose money on that they just wouldn't sell it, right? Or they'd raise the price of it until it became worth the risk that something bad actually will happen? Wouldn't it only be worth it to buy insurance if you know something the insurance company doesn't?

So the deal is that most people don't use their insurance much, and often insurance companies will incentivize doing things that will make you use your insurance less.

So, for example, you can get a discount on car insurance if you have multiple cars because people who insure multiple cars are more likely to be responsible drivers (the ability to pay for multiple cars stands in as a representation of responsibility here). The longer you go without an accident, the lower your premiums get because that means that you are not costing your insurance company anything but you are paying into the system. The car insurance company's goal is to have the most responsible, safest drivers who never get into car accidents because they can predict (roughly) how much they're going to have to pay out to their customers and they want the number they pay out to be lower than what's paid in. So they try to discourage irresponsible drivers by raising their rates and encourage responsible drivers by giving them discounts.

Health insurance companies often do the same thing: I recently got a gift card from my health insurance company because I had a visit from a nurse who interviewed me about my overall health and made sure I had stable blood pressure and access to medications. It is literally cheaper for my insurance company to give me a $100 giftcard and hire a nurse to visit me than it is for me to go to my doctor's office a couple of times, so they try to make sure that their customers are getting preventative care and are seeing inexpensive medical professionals regularly so that they don't have to suddenly see very expensive professionals after a long time without care.

Insurance in the US has many, many, many problems and should be replaced with socialized healthcare for a huge number of reasons but right now, because it is an insurance-based system, you need to have insurance.

We're going to use Large Bastard as an example.

Large Bastard had insurance when he had his heart attack and when he needed multiple organs transplanted. He didn't *want* to be paying for insurance, because he thought he was healthy enough to get by, but I insisted. His premium is four hundred dollars a month, and his out of pocket maximum is eight thousand dollars a year. That means that every year, he pays about $5000 whether he uses his insurance or not, and if he DOES need to use the insurance, he pays the first $8k worth of care, so every year his insurance has the possibility of costing him thirteen thousand dollars.

The bill for his bypass surgery was a quarter million dollars.

The bill for his transplant was over one and a half million dollars.

His medication each month is around six hundred dollars. He needs to have multiple biopsies - which are surgeries - each year, and each one costs about twenty thousand dollars.

Without health insurance, he would very likely be dead, or we would be *even more* incapable of paying for his healthcare than we are right now. He almost ditched his insurance because he was a healthy-seeming 40-year-old and he didn't think he'd get sick. And then he proceeded to be the sickest human being I've ever known personally who did not actually die.

Health insurance costs a lot of money. It costs less money for people who are young and who are expected to be healthy. But the thing is, everybody pays into health insurance, and very, very few people end up using as much money for their medical expenses as Large Bastard did. There are a few thousand transplants in the US ever year, but there are hundreds of millions of people paying for insurance.

This ends up balancing out (sort of) so that people who pay for insurance get a much lower cost on care if they need it, hospitals get paid for the care they provide, and the insurance company makes enough money to continue to exist. Part of the reason that people don't like this scheme is because "insurance company" could feasibly be replaced by "government" and it would cost less and provide a better standard of care, but again, with things as they are now, you need to have insurance. Insurance companies are large entities that are able to negotiate down costs with the providers they work with, you are not. If you get hit by a car you may be able to get your medical bills significantly reduced through a number of means, but you're very unlikely to get your bills lower than the cost of insurance and a copay.

Because of the Affordable Care Act, which is flawed but which did a LOT of good, medical insurance companies cannot refuse to treat you because of preexisting conditions and also cannot jack up your premiums to intolerable rates - since Large Bastard got sick, he has had the standard price increases you'd expect from aging, but nothing like the gouging you might expect from an insurance company deciding you're not worth it.

Pet insurance works on the same model. Millions of people pay for the insurance, thousands of people end up needing it, a few hundred end up needing a LOT of it, and the insurance companies are able to make more money than they hand out, so they continue to exist. This is part of why it's less expensive to get pet insurance for younger animals - people who sign up puppies and kittens are likely to be paying for a very long time and are likely to provide a lot of preventative care for their animals, so they're a good bet for the insurer. Animals signed up when they are older are more likely to have health problems (and pet insurance CAN turn animals away for preexisting conditions) and are going to cost the insurance companies more, so they cost more to enroll (and animals over a certain age or with certain conditions may be denied entirely).

This weighing risk/reward is called actuarial science, and the insurance industry is built on it.

But yeah it's kind of betting. The insurance company says "I'll insure ten thousand dogs and I'm going to bet that only a hundred of them will need surgery at some point in the next year" and if they're correct, they make money and the dogs who need surgery get their surgery paid for out of the premiums from the nine thousand nine hundred dogs who didn't need surgery.

Your assessment of credit is correct: credit card companies expect that you will end up carrying a balance, and that balance will accrue interest, and the interest is how they make the money.

And it is EASY to fuck up financially as an adult. REALLY EASY. But you are still likely to need a good credit score so you will need a credit history. That means that the correct way to use a credit card is to have a card, but not carry a balance.

To do this, never buy anything on the card that you can't afford. In order to avoid needing the card for emergencies, start an emergency fund that is at least 3 months of your total pay *before* you get a credit card. That seems like a *lot* of savings to have, but from the perspective of someone who has had plenty of mess-ups, it's a lot easier to build up a $10k emergency fund than it is to pay off a $10k credit card debt.

If you don't understand how interest works on credit cards, or why a 10k savings is different than a 10k debt, here are some examples working with $10k of debt, 23% interest (an average-ish rate for people with average credit), and various payments.

With that debt and that interest, here's how much it costs and how long it would take to pay off with $200 as the monthly payment:

Fourteen years, and it would cost you about twenty four thousand dollars in interest, for a total amount paid of about thirty four thousand dollars.

To save $10k at $200 a month would take four years and two months.

Here's the same debt at $300 a month:

4.5 Years and it costs about six grand (again, just in interest - sixteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at three hundred dollars a month would take just under three years.

Here's the same debt at $400 a month:

3 years, about $4000 dollars (fourteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at $400 a month takes just over two years.

The thing is, with all of these models you're going to end up paying one way or another. Insurance vs out of pocket is you weighing the risk of losing a fair amount of money by signing up but not using the system, or potentially losing a catastrophic amount of money by not signing up.

For credit cards they really only work if you know you're never going to need them for an emergency, because an emergency is what you're not going to be able to pay off right away. I didn't have an emergency fund when Large Bastard had his heart attack and needed surgery, or when we moved between states suddenly, or when we moved between states suddenly AGAIN and needed to pay storage costs, or when Large Bastard needed a transplant, or when Tiny Bastard got in a fight with my MiL's dog, and the fact that I didn't have an emergency fund is still costing me a lot of money.

So, young folks out there: what's the takeaway?

Get insurance. Get the best deal possible, which usually ends up being the one you sign up for early. You may think you can let it ride without insurance, but man in the six months between when I graduate college (and lost my school insurance) and when care kicked in after 90 days at my job I got electrocuted and needed to go to the ER. If that hadn't been a worker's comp payout I would have had thousands of dollars in bills. Something could happen. You could break your leg, you could get hit by a car, you could suddenly find out that you actually have heart disease at twenty, you could develop cancer. Have insurance, you need insurance. You legally need car insurance in the US, and you financially need health insurance. If you have a pet, I think it's a good idea for them to have pet insurance.

Credit cards are not for emergencies, they are not for fun, they are not for buying things that are just ever so slightly out of your budget, they are for taking advantage of the credit card company and managing to get by in a system that demands you have a credit score. ONLY put purchases on your credit card that you already have cash for. Before you get a credit card, build up an emergency savings so that you aren't tempted to put emergency charges on your card.

If you DO end up with an interest-bearing debt, pay it off as fast as possible because letting it linger costs you a LOT of money in the long run.

Stay the fuck away from tobacco and nicotine products they are fucking terrible for you, they are fucking expensive, and they are not worth it put the vapes down put the zyns down put the cigarettes down I will begin manifesting in your house physically i swear to fuck. Knock that shit off and put the cash that you'd be spending on nicotine into a savings account.

Take care, sorry everything sucks, I promise that in some ways it actually sucks less than it did before and we're working on trying to make it suck even less but it's taking a while.

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occamstfs · 1 year ago

Text

Rosa's Cafe

Here's a longer Racial TF set in a coffee shop, Best! Occam

Matthew had clocked up more hours of overtime for his company than they were willing to pay him. He assumed that their guidelines weren’t so rigid and that he would be fine to get ahead early. These days you really need to go above and beyond to get ahead and Matthew was determined to get in the good graces of the big bosses.

Unfortunately working so hard was a misplay. His direct boss was forcing him to take Paid Time Off in lieu of the overtime pay for the past year. Now he sits at home with next to nothing to do, twiddling his thumbs until he can return to the grind. He loved back when he was a barista in college? Maybe he can get back to customer service?

Reflecting on this he takes to LinkedIn to see if there are any managerial spots open for a cafe. Something needs to scratch his itch for administration and he night as well pour coffee while doing so. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps something more deliberate, as soon as he logs in to check listings he sees a manager position at “Rosa’s Cafe.”

He auto-submits his resume to the restaurant assuming he’s overqualified before even reading the listing’s qualifications. Glancing through them he sees that they’d prefer someone fluent in Spanish. Matthew struggles to recall what if any Spanish remains in his head from taking it in both high school and college. He starts to pull up a language app on his phone before seeing that, jarringly fast, he has already been advanced to an interview for this cafe. Rosa herself sending him a message to come as soon as he’s ready.

Matthew then sprints to check himself in a mirror. He has certainly not slacked in his hygiene since he was asked to stop coming into work, partially in hopes that they’ll need him to come in any day. Today though he throws on some cologne and drives off to Rosa’s Cafe. He doesn’t stop to question how odd it is to already be on the way to an interview, minutes after submitting his resume. They must just really need someone?

As soon as he arrives Rosa is there at the door to greet him, smiling wide and welcoming him into her establishment.

“Hola Matthew! So glad for you to join us, your application was outstanding! Solamente, I was wondering why you wanted this job given your current one?”

Matthew blushes and explains his situation, struggling not to sound like a maniac for wanting to work despite the relatively cushy situation he is in. Although Rosa hears this and is impressed at his ethic, his crave to work. Rosa was more than happy to take advantage of his situation.

“Uhhh there was just one thing though, Miss. Oh uh, lo siento. Señora Rosa.”

“Sí, sí. You aren’t quite fluent en Español, are you Matthew?” He averts his eyes but before he can answer Rosa continues on, “Esta bien. You will just learn on the job sí?”

Putting on an air of determination Matthew pumps his fist “Sí, Sra Rosa! Uh claro que sí,” he attempts, stepping to the limit of the Spanish remaining in his head. Rosa gives him a look like an owner watching a pet as it tries to show off, offering an ambiguous smile before explaining her stance.

“Claro que sí,” offering a knowing nod, “I’m sure you understand why I would want a manager to speak Español, yes? En esta ciudad, in this city, there are very few places where Español is the default. I would just like my cafe to be one of them. The job is of course yours, I would be a fool not to take the opportunity. But while you’re here, mientras estás aquí, please work on su Espanol,” tacking on, “I can’t imagine it will be too long before you’re called back to your job eh? Una estrella como tu”

To her point there are clearly not a lot of people speaking English in the cafe. Matthew would guess he is probably the only native English speaker present making him blush, although after being flattered by Rosa he was ready to accept. After all he had been meaning to practice his Spanish anyway. He puts his hand out to shake her hand, “when can I start?”

“Well, mi pequeño gerente, why not start training now?” Turning around she calls over the barista Juan to introduce the two, talking to Juan at a speed that made it clear to Matthew that she was quite dumbing down her language in their conversation. She then bids farewell to the two, “adios Matthew! Tengo que ah, cόmo se dice, file your paperwork. Hasta mañana!”

“Hola Matthew, it is nice to meet you! Rosa said to show you around,” Juan smiles offering him a cup of their house roast. “Espero que, ah, I hope you don’t mind but I added canella, cinnamon.” Matthew graciously accepts the cup. He may be a world removed from his time as a barista but instantly returns to his first coffee tasting.

It smelled quite strong, darker than he usually prefers and he can see cinnamon swirling through the cup as the cup steams in his hand. He begins to bring the cup up for a closer smell although as soon as the movement begins the allure of the drink overpowers him and he drinks almost too quickly. It was delicious. He always, almost performatively, drank black coffee at his old job. Or no, his real job?

Juan sees Matthew continue to gulp down the cup of coffee waiting for reaction, though he sees very little sign of his mind processing the drink at all. Matthew’s just staring ahead, his eyes ever so slightly glazing over as he finishes the cup. He grins as it almost looks like the coffee has stained Matthew’s upper lip, offering a napkin before asking, “te gusta hermano?”

Matthew snaps back to his senses, staring at Juan as a small ring of brown starts to stain the center of his icy blue eyes. He struggles to even find the words to describe how profoundly he enjoyed the coffee. It was a passion too great for him to even begin to capture in English. “Juan, that was, cómo se dice? Is there some word better than delicioso?”

Juan laughs putting his arm around his new manager, “Ay hermano! Maybe that’s what you should do now! You just go work on your Spanish and I’ll bring you some samples! Ah, aqui, the employee handbook is in Spanish, practica perfecta!” He brings over another cup and the handbook and Matthew starts struggling through it.

Matthew figuratively bashes his head into the handbook, it’s not dense but it is per cierto not written with beginners in mind. Smirking as he notices he just reflexively thought in Spanish, going to get another drink only to find the cup emptied once more. He hasn’t been drinking nearly as much since he left the office, bargaining with himself as Juan comes to refill his cup. He can cut back his intake later, he needs to get this through this work.

And work at it he does, caffeine is not making him feel wired as usual but sensual as he continues to page through the booklet. He starts to stretch just to feel the strain in his muscles and the tension in his clothes. He looks down and sees his shirt is fitting much better than he thought it did. It’s not tight but anyone who looks can see there is muscle under there. He stares at his own body feeling strength he does not remember cultivating. Suddenly he notices it’s not only his upper body that’s filling out, as a growing package begins to demand attention under the table. These jeans were clearly not designed to handle this and Matthew is barely able to stop himself from flexing to see just how much he truly can fill this outfit and he attempts to switch gears back to working. Urgently feeling adverse to thinking any further about his body.

Struggling to find any way to distract himself he remembers being historically shit at actually speaking in Spanish. This is as good a chance as any to practice his pronunciation. Matthew begins to mouth the words in the handbook, feeling his tongue in unfamiliar ways that he swears he has done a million times before. Matthew attempts to raise his practice to a whisper and immediately goes into a coughing fit. Hope that coffee didn’t burn my throat he thinks clearing his throat and finding a much deeper voice on the other side. One that announces his Spanish progress to the whole cafe shockingly loud for a whisper though Matthew doesn’t notice. What is immediately apparent to him is how expertly he rolled an R.

He knows he could never do that, and not without trying. He probably spent half an hour practicing it his sophomore year. He reflects back on how hard he worked on Spanish in the past as his eyes start to glaze over once more. Something is off here, his hand raising to his face not notice a moustache and sloppy goatee start to push out of his face. He foes feel itchy elsewhere though, scratching at his chest and stomach, averting the more animalistic urge to scratch his pits and crotch as Juan begins to walk over.

Matthew quickly tries to meet him halfway, standing to a height just taller than the one he thought he knew to be true. His bulge grazes the bottom of the table which causes his body to convulse in pleasure. His feet are caught on the table as he falls knocking his coffee all over himself and the floor. “Mierda!” He shouts before going dark.

He awakens to Juan wiping coffee off his face, his clothes now certainly stained brown and spelling of rich coffee and cinnamon. Helping him back to standing, Juan makes sure he is alright, “quite the fall amigo! Tal vez we call it a day?” Matthew hastily agrees feeling impossibly strained and weary for what little work he has actually done. Juan continues, “Rosa said the paperwork should be good for you to start tomorrow if you can!” Stumbling to his feet Matt knows he agrees but the rest of his night is little more than a blur.

He sees Juan wink at him and knows he is going to start tomorrow. He must drive home after that since he is now looking at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth. Something seems off, he is clearly too tired to put a finger on exactly what it is. He flexes his bicep noticing he must have completely disrobed. He thought he shaved his pits recently. He scratches at his crotch realizing that his now heavier cock is also out, pawing at his pubes and feeling his bulge expand even further into his hand before forcing it into some briefs and continuing his audit.

Didn’t he have a tan? Looking at himself up and down he feels like he isn’t supposed to be this pale right? Isn’t he from? Matthew feels lightheaded and begins to collapse once more before being jarred back to reality smelling the coffee and cinnamon scent still hugging his chest. Using this second wind he stumbles into bed, neglecting to change into his nightclothes and he quickly drifts to sleep.

Matt falls into a dream that feels realer than the reality of his previous life. It’s the middle of the rush and he sees himself working at an espresso machine with Juan. He looks down seeing his body expertly maneuver around the bar, tossing cinnamon into drinks, chatting with customers in truly fluent Spanish. He pauses in this dreamscape to notice the tan he was so sure he had earlier. He sees the tattooed arms he has known for years, he worked hard enough for them after all, might as well show them off on the clock. He raises the hairy arms to flex at Juan and say something clever in his native tongue before being jarred back to reality by a sunbeam.

Matt awakens hearing his morning wood stretch his briefs to their near limit barely able to keep himself together before seeing the time and once more shouting “mierda!” He is already so late for work, they’ve been open for hours. It’s his first real day and he has already jod- he’s already fucked it up! He quickly inspects himself once more, seeing the true version of himself he saw in his dream. Seeing his recently shaved chest he quickly realizes he doesn’t have time for a shower. He smells his pits just to see how bad the damage is. His voice rumbles in his chest, “joder…”

He smells again even deeper, it reminds him of? Oh it is just on the tip of his tongue, which he begins to reach out before remembering his predicament. He throws on a dress shirt before giving one last whiff to his pits, flexing his pecs as he does so. It is so fragrant, almost spicy. Matt postpones the mystery after concluding it should certainly be covered by the smell at Rosa’s and rushing out the door. Not seeing as his chest pops off the top button of his shirt and his neat goatee begins to grow even thicker.

Matt rushes into the door and is greeted like a regular, which he is of course to be now, as the new manager. He feels a warmth in his chest as Juan brings over his first cup of the day. “Buenos días Juan!” Matt offers before going to meet the chef, Benito, as the plan was today.

Making his way back to the kitchen he smells something even more distracting to him than his body odor this morning. Benito runs over with a plate full of arepas that Matt recognizes instantly before Benito greets him, “buenos dias jefe! Rosa said you wanted us to start serving arepas sí?”

“Rosa? She said, I asked for these?”

“Si! Desde su ciudad natal no?”

Matt’s mouth is overcome as he starts to clearly drool for the plate in front of him. He has no choice but to tear into one which immediately brings him back. He loved these when he was a kid, but? Didn’t he grow up en los estados? Wasn’t he from? He fails to finish the thought in his head before it is wiped away as if fireworks are going of in his mind.

He beams at Benito as his eyes glaze over and fully darken to brown. He feels an urge to burp which he chokes down with another cup of coffee. “Ay this takes me back amigo, estos son exactamente como, like the ones mi abuela había before nos pequeños…” Matt pauses as he feels a pervasive warmth starts to grow distracting in his chest as a similar itch begins on the outside.

He doesn’t notice as his inner monologue begins to entirely shift away from English, as it should of course. He may live in los Estados hoy, but he was colombiano born and bred. He remembers how hard he worked as a child learning English as his biceps start to clearly strain the already tight dress shirt.

Matt remembers fighting for his place to get a degree at a university that did not respect his native country or tongue as he feels his voice deepen beyond baritone and into a strong bass. He remembers trying to find a place in this mierda ciudad before meeting Rosa as his chest bursts open shooting any buttons remaining off his shirt.

Rosa then enters the kitchen to see how her new hire has progressed and slyly smiles seeing his progress. She tosses a shirt at him saying in Spanish now effortlessly understood “Oi Matteo! You’re in the kitchen put some clothes on!”

Matteo shuffles to the restroom to change as he looks one last time in the mirror and sees the flawless trajabador he sees every time he checks himself out. He puts on his nametag flexing to see just how much he can strain his shirt before returning to the cafe, ready to conquer another day in the life he has worked so hard for.

#racial change #male tf #muscle tf #mental change #race change #masculinization

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aspenmissing · 24 days ago

Text

ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴇQᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 2592 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛ (ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏᴋᴀʏ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɴᴛᴀɴᴇɪᴛʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟᴄᴜʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪꜱɪᴏɴ ᴄᴏʟʟɪᴅᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜɴʀᴇꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ. ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ʀɪꜱᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ Qᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ’ꜱ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇꜱᴛ ɪɴɴᴏᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ɪɴᴠᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ—ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ꜱᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

Viktor paced through the hallways of the Academy, his mind a whirlwind of ideas and theories. He had always been captivated by the pursuit of knowledge, but lately, there was something more alluring. Someone.

Y/N had only recently started teaching at the Academy, and her presence had already made an impact. Her brilliance in Advanced Theoretical and Applied Engineering Physics was undeniable, and she had a way of inspiring her students, making them feel as though they could conquer anything with enough persistence. But it wasn't just her intelligence that caught Viktor's attention. It was the fire in her eyes, the spark of determination that fueled her every action.

On his way to the lab, Viktor passed by the academy courtyard, where the familiar roar of a motobike engine filled the air. He glanced over, unable to help himself.

There she was—Y/N—sitting confidently on her custom-designed motobike. Her helmet was sleek, the reflective visor hiding her face, but the pose she held made it clear she was in complete control. The bike was a work of art in itself, a perfect blend of engineering and aesthetic beauty, clearly a product of Y/N's genius. She revved the engine once, the sound reverberating off the stone walls, before she sped off, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.

Viktor couldn't help but smile. She was everything he admired in a person—fearless, driven, and unafraid to push the boundaries of what was possible.

Later that evening, after the classes had ended and the corridors of the Academy grew quieter, Viktor found himself lingering by the lab, lost in thought. The door to his office creaked open, and he looked up to see Y/N standing there, her helmet tucked under her arm, her protective suit still on but slightly dishevelled from the ride.

"I didn't expect to see you here so late," Viktor said, his voice a little softer than usual, though his curiosity was clear.

"I could say the same about you," Y/N replied with a playful smile. "I know you tend to get lost in your work, but I have to admit, it's nice to see someone who shares the same passion for innovation. Even if it means burning the midnight oil."

Viktor chuckled, setting his tools down. "It's the price we pay for progress."

Y/N walked toward him, her steps confident, her gaze sharp. "Is that what you think you're doing? Progress?" she teased. "You know, for someone so focused on engineering, you could use a bit of… innovation yourself."

Viktor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

Y/N's grin widened. "I think you could use a little more fun in your life. A little less time in the lab and a bit more time out in the world. Ever considered taking a ride on my bike? It might help clear your mind."

For a moment, Viktor hesitated. The idea of stepping away from his work was… foreign. But then he looked into her eyes, and he saw something different. She was offering him more than just a ride. She was offering him a chance to experience life beyond the confines of equations and machines.

"Perhaps you’re right," he said, nodding slowly. "But only if you promise not to leave me behind."

Y/N’s laughter was light and full of warmth, and it was then Viktor realized how much he enjoyed her company. She was a perfect complement to him, someone who could challenge him in ways that were both intellectual and personal.

Without a word, Y/N motioned for him to follow her. He hesitated only briefly, then complied, leaning lightly on his cane as he trailed behind her. Viktor couldn’t help but admire the way she moved—graceful, confident, and utterly unapologetic. She had a presence that demanded attention without asking for it.

Soon, they were standing by her bike once more. Y/N handed him a spare helmet, her fingers brushing his as he took it. Without missing a beat, she climbed onto the bike, her movements fluid and practiced.

Viktor adjusted the helmet carefully, taking his time to ensure it fit properly. His gaze flicked briefly to his cane. He exhaled, attaching it securely into to the side of the bike - as per Y/N's order. Then, with measured effort, he swung a leg over the bike, settling into the seat behind her.

The engine roared to life beneath them, vibrating through Viktor’s frame. He adjusted his grip on the seat awkwardly, unsure where to place his hands. His hesitation didn’t escape Y/N’s notice.

With a soft laugh, she glanced over her shoulder. “You’re not going to fall off, Viktor. Here.” She reached back, took his hands, and guided them around her waist. “Hold on tight.”

He stiffened slightly, unused to the proximity, but nodded. “If you insist,” he murmured, his tone tinged with unease.

“Trust me,” she replied with a playful smirk.

Before Viktor could second-guess himself, Y/N twisted the throttle, and the bike surged forward. The sudden acceleration pulled a surprised gasp from him, and his grip tightened instinctively. The wind tore past them, the city lights below blurring into streaks of gold and silver as they sped through Piltover’s streets and winding roads.

At first, Viktor’s focus was on maintaining his balance, his thoughts tangled with the unfamiliar sensations of the bike. But as the ride continued, something shifted. The steady hum of the engine, the rush of the wind, and Y/N’s smooth, confident movements began to weave a rhythm—steady, hypnotic, and liberating.

For the first time in years, Viktor felt untethered from the weight of his responsibilities and limitations. The freedom was exhilarating, and he found himself leaning into the experience, trusting Y/N’s expertise as she maneuvered through the city and up a steep hill outside its heart.

Finally, Y/N brought the bike to a stop atop the hill, overlooking Piltover. The city spread out below them, its glittering lights reflecting off the winding canals and casting a warm glow into the night. Viktor hesitated as he dismounted, steadying himself with his cane as Y/N turned to face him, her expression lit with quiet excitement.

She gestured toward the view. “I thought you’d like this better than the Academy,” she said, pulling off her helmet and running a hand through her hair. “The best ideas come when you can see the bigger picture.”

Viktor removed his helmet, setting it on the bike as he stepped toward the edge of the hill. The sight was breath-taking. Piltover, alive with industry and innovation, glimmered like a constellation brought to earth. He felt a sense of awe he hadn’t experienced in years, his mind unusually quiet.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than usual, “this is… different.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned against the bike. “Told you. Innovation isn’t just about machines and inventions. Sometimes, it’s the people we meet and the experiences we share.”

Viktor turned to her, studying her in the moonlight. She was right. Y/N was a kind of innovation herself—dynamic, unpredictable, and endlessly fascinating.

As the cool night air rustled the grass around them, Viktor realized something profound. For so long, his world had revolved around his work, his relentless pursuit of progress. But now, he’d found something—or someone—just as valuable.

A kindred spirit. A partner in intellect and adventure.

And for the first time in years, Viktor felt something deeper than ambition: hope.

As they raced through the winding streets of Piltover, the wind whipped around them, and the city blurred into streaks of light. Viktor found himself mesmerized—not just by the speed and freedom of the ride, but by Y/N herself. Her precision, her unshakable focus, and the seamless way she controlled every twist and turn—it all left him in awe.

But the night had one more surprise in store.

A figure darted suddenly into the street ahead of them—small and quick, likely a stray animal. Y/N’s eyes widened, and with lightning-fast reflexes, she yanked the handlebars, swerving hard to avoid the obstacle. The motion was swift and fluid, but the tires screeched in protest, losing traction on the slick pavement.

The world tilted violently, and Viktor’s stomach churned as the bike skidded. The pavement loomed closer, the chaos unfolding in slow motion. Y/N’s instincts kicked in immediately. With practiced ease, she threw herself to the side, grabbing Viktor by the waist and pulling him on top of her as they slid. Her protective suit, built for moments like these, absorbed most of the friction as she shielded him from the worst of the impact.

They came to a halt mere inches from a stone wall, the bike lying several feet away, its engine sputtering and smoking. For a moment, the world was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the city.

Viktor blinked, disoriented, finding himself sprawled atop Y/N. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with exertion, her helmet askew, revealing flushed cheeks and windswept hair. She was alive—unharmed, it seemed—and so was he, thanks to her quick thinking.

Their eyes met. A flicker of shared relief, laced with humor, passed between them. And then, as if on cue, they both burst into laughter.

But the night had one more surprise in store.

They came to a halt mere inches from a stone wall, the bike lying several feet away, its engine sputtering and smoking. For a moment, the world was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the city.

Their eyes met. A flicker of shared relief, laced with humor, passed between them. And then, as if on cue, they both burst into laughter.

The absurdity of it all—the exhilaration, the crash, and now lying in a tangled heap in the middle of the street—was too much to contain. Viktor couldn’t help but laugh at how he’d gone from marveling at Y/N’s brilliance to being literally saved by it.

“You know,” Viktor said, his voice unsteady from laughter, “I didn’t expect to end up on top of you tonight.”

Y/N smirked up at him, her voice playful despite her breathlessness. “Well, I’ve been told I make a great cushion. You look pretty comfortable.”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head as warmth spread through his chest. Even in the aftermath of a crash, she found a way to disarm him completely.

With a light groan, Y/N pushed herself up, Viktor sliding off her and onto the ground beside her. She adjusted her helmet and brushed bits of gravel from her suit. “Well,” she said with a grin, “this wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but it’s definitely a memorable pit stop.”

Viktor straightened, running a hand through his hair as he brushed the dirt from his coat. “Memorable is one word for it,” he said wryly. He glanced at her, the gratitude evident in his gaze. “Thank you. You… you protected me.”

Y/N shrugged with a casual air, though her smile softened. “It’s what I do. You’re a terrible passenger, by the way,” she added with a teasing glint in her eye. “Next time, try not to freak out and grab me so tightly.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you telling me to ‘hold on tight.’”

“Touché,” Y/N replied with a laugh, offering her hand to help him stand.

He took it, steadying himself as he rose, and his weight shifted slightly to his unsteady leg. The movement was subtle, but Y/N noticed, her gaze flicking to his stance. A flicker of realization crossed her face.

“Your cane,” she said suddenly, glancing back at the bike.

Viktor froze, a pang of worry flashing in his eyes. “The cane…”

Y/N was already moving. She crouched by the bike, her hands running over the scratched surface until she found it still secured to the side. It was intact—surprisingly unbroken, considering the crash. She let out a breath of relief and unhooked it, turning back to him with a triumphant smile.

“Good news,” she said, holding it up. “Your cane survived the adventure too.”

Viktor exhaled softly, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He took the cane from her, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, but no less sincere.

Y/N straightened, her expression shifting to something more thoughtful as she watched him steady himself. “You know,” she said, her tone lighter again, “this is starting to feel like one of those inventions you’re always talking about—trial and error. We’ll refine the process next time.”

Viktor smirked, tapping the cane lightly against the ground. “Perhaps with fewer crashes.”

“Agreed,” she said with a chuckle. Her gaze softened as she added, “But for what it’s worth, you handled that better than most.”

Viktor met her eyes, his lips curving into a small smile. “Because I had you to handle the worst of it.”

They shared a moment of quiet understanding before Y/N turned her attention back to the bike, now lying on its side with a faint plume of smoke rising from the engine. She inspected it briefly, her hands brushing over the scratched paint.

“Well,” she said, stepping back and placing her hands on her hips, “looks like we’ll have to walk it back. Unless you have a better idea?”

Viktor glanced toward the distant city lights glittering below. A faint breeze ruffled his hair, and the night air felt cooler now after the rush of the ride. “A scenic walk might be just what I need,” he said, leaning slightly on his cane.

Y/N tilted her head, a smile curving her lips. “You’re full of surprises, Viktor.”

As they began their walk back, laughter and warmth lingered between them, the crash already transforming into a shared story they’d both remember. Viktor glanced at Y/N, a feeling of admiration settling in his chest.

She wasn’t just fearless and brilliant—she was endlessly unpredictable, the kind of adventure he never thought he’d find. And as they moved through the quiet streets, Viktor realized she wasn’t just a kindred spirit.

she was an adventure all her own.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #Fluff #Reader Insert #viktor x you

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atinyslittleworld · 8 months ago

Text

Beneath the Western Sky

cowboy!san x f!reader

Summary: Choi San, a charming cowboy, frequents a saloon in the small town of Red River, where he falls for Y/N, the younger daughter of the stern saloon owner. Despite San's persistent efforts to win Y/N's heart, her father disapproves and warns him to stay away.

Genre: a little angst, mainly fluff

Warnings: mention of guns

The sun was beginning to set over the dusty plains, casting a warm, golden hue over the small frontier town of Red River. Choi San, a rugged cowboy with a reputation for being both charming and reckless, sauntered down the main street, spurs jingling with every step. He adjusted his hat and glanced around, his eyes inevitably drawn to the bustling saloon at the end of the street – the place where he spent many nights with his mates, and more importantly, where the object of his affections worked.

The younger daughter of the saloon owner, Y/N, was a vision of beauty and grace. She had a laugh that could light up the darkest of rooms and a smile that made San's heart race every time he saw her. Despite his best efforts to woo her, Y/N remained elusive, always managing to slip away just when he thought he was getting close.

San pushed open the swinging doors of the saloon and made his way to the bar, where Y/N was busy serving drinks to the rowdy patrons. She glanced up and caught his eye, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Evening, San," she said, her voice like a melody to his ears.

"Evening, Y/N," he replied, leaning against the bar. "How's the night treating you?"

"Busy as always," she said, pouring a drink for a nearby customer. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Same as always," San said, his tone teasing. "A drink and some good company."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is that so? Well, you'll have to work for it."

Before San could respond, the saloon doors swung open again, and the burly figure of Y/N's father, Mr. Cruz, strode in. His stern expression and imposing presence were enough to make even the toughest of cowboys think twice about crossing him. He caught sight of San at the bar and his eyes narrowed.

"San," Mr. Cruz said, his voice gruff. "What are you doing here?"

San straightened up, trying to appear casual. "Just enjoying a drink, Mr. Cruz. No harm in that, is there?"

Mr. Cruz’s gaze shifted to Y/N, who was watching the exchange with a hint of amusement. "As long as you're not bothering my daughter, I suppose it's fine."

San held up his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

With a final, suspicious glance, Mr. Cruz turned and headed to the back of the saloon. San let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked back at Y/N, who was stifling a laugh.

"Your father's a hard man to impress," San said, shaking his head.

Y/N shrugged, still smiling. "He means well. Just looking out for me, I suppose."

"Can't blame him for that," San admitted. "But it does make things a bit difficult."

"Maybe that's the point," Y/N said, leaning a little closer. "Keeps the wrong kind of men away."

San's eyes sparkled with determination. "And what about the right kind of men?"

Y/N's smile widened, but she said nothing, turning back to her work. San watched her for a moment before deciding it was time to up his game. He couldn't let her slip through his fingers again.

Over the next few weeks, San made a point to visit the saloon more often, always finding an excuse to talk to Y/N. He helped around the place, offered to fix things that were broken, and even took on some of the rowdier patrons to keep the peace. His efforts did not go unnoticed, least of all by Y/N.

One evening, as the saloon was closing up, San found Y/N sweeping the floor. He approached her, tipping his hat with a grin.

"Need any help?" he asked.

Y/N looked up, surprised but not displeased. "Sure, if you don't mind."

San grabbed a broom and started sweeping, working alongside her in companionable silence. After a while, he cleared his throat, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"You know, Y/N, I've been thinking..."

"About what?" she asked, not looking up from her task.

"About you," he said simply. "And how much I'd like to get to know you better."

Y/N paused, leaning on her broom as she studied him. "And what makes you think I want to get to know you better, San?"

San shrugged, his smile never wavering. "A man can hope, can't he?"

Y/N shook her head, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"I'll take that as a compliment," San said, stepping closer. "So, what do you say? Give me a chance?"

Before Y/N could respond, the door to the back room opened, and Mr. Cruz stepped out. He took one look at San standing so close to his daughter and his expression darkened.

"San, I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter," Mr. Cruz said, his voice low and dangerous.

San straightened, meeting Mr. Cruz’s gaze without flinching. "I mean no disrespect, sir. I just want a chance to prove myself."

Mr. Cruz crossed his arms, his eyes cold. "And why should I give you that chance?"

"Because I care about her," San said earnestly. "And I think she cares about me too."

Mr. Cruz looked at Y/N, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of surprise and hope. Before she could say anything, a loud crash came from outside the saloon, followed by shouting and the sound of galloping hooves. All three of them turned toward the noise.

"What's going on out there?" Y/N asked, worry etched on her face.

San quickly moved toward the door, peeking outside. "Looks like a gang of outlaws," he said grimly. "Causing trouble again."

Mr. Cruz's face hardened. "We need to keep everyone inside safe."

San nodded, his mind racing. "Y/N, get the women and children to the back. Mr. Cruz, you and I will hold the front."

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She quickly ushered the few remaining patrons to the back rooms while San and Mr. Cruz readied themselves. The outlaws were getting closer, their shouts growing louder.

The door burst open, and a group of rough-looking men stormed in, guns drawn. San and Mr. Cruz sprang into action, their own weapons at the ready. A tense standoff ensued, the saloon filled with the sounds of shouting and gunfire.

San moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned cowboy, taking down several outlaws while protecting the saloon and its occupants. Mr. Cruz fought alongside him, his fierce determination matching San's. The two men, despite their differences, worked together seamlessly.

In the midst of the chaos, San caught sight of Y/N peeking out from the back room. Her eyes widened with fear and concern as she watched him. He knew he had to end this quickly to keep her safe.

With a final burst of energy, San disarmed the remaining outlaws, sending them fleeing from the saloon. The noise died down, and the dust settled. San and Mr. Cruz stood in the now-quiet saloon, breathing heavily but victorious.

Y/N rushed out from the back room, her eyes searching for San. When she saw him standing there, unharmed, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Thank you for keeping us safe."

San held her close, his heart pounding. "I'd do anything for you, Y/N."

Mr. Cruz approached them, his stern expression softening as he looked at San. "You proved yourself tonight, San. Maybe I was wrong about you."

San nodded, grateful for the older man's words. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Cruz glanced at Y/N, then back at San. "You take care of her, you hear me?"

San tightened his hold on Y/N. "I will. I promise."

With the danger passed and the saloon slowly returning to normal, Y/N looked up at San, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and admiration.

"You really are something, San," she said softly.

San smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Does that mean you'll give me a chance?"

Y/N pretended to consider it for a moment before nodding. "Alright, cowboy. You've got yourself a chance."

San's grin widened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. As they stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the night's chaos, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

#choi san #san #san x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez

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writeyouin · 1 year ago

Note

Mtmte starscream headcanons on pampering his s/o? Post war?

MTMTE Starscream X Reader - Pampering

A/N -

Warnings -

Rating -

Usually, everything is about Starscream, especially now that he is the official ruler of Cybertron.

Any time he snaps his digits, there's a servant there to fulfil his every whim.

Yet, Starscream wouldn't be where he is today, were it not for you and he knows it.

The two of you had been together since he invaded your measly planet. Starscream didn't care for Earth, but it was your home and you had left it, for him.

He knew all you had sacrificed, and he wanted to repay that.

Besides, there had been so many nights when he was in a dark depression, all thanks to the abuse of his fellow Decepticons and Megatron.

On those nights, you had been there for him, talking him down from the edge. Nobody else would have been able to do so, but you always knew when to speak, and when to be silent, offering him your company and a shoulder to... Well, he didn't often cry, it left him far too vulnerable, but you were there to listen when he needed you.

Your love language was physical touch, and he adored you for that; you were his anchor to reality.

Then, when Starscream was tense, you had been there to work out the kinks under his plating. Granted, you were too small to give him a real massage, but you could reach where no other bot could, and it had felt oh, so good.

There had been times when you used a ladder and a jet wash to scrub at him, treating him like a king even before he was one.

Now, Starscream was determined to return the favour.

He had access to everything he needed, and he knew enough about humans to give you a spa day.

First, he had all the best items imported from Earth, for facials, a back rub, a foot massage and that other thing, a pedi-mani? Mani-pedi? Whatever it was that you were supposed to do with a human's servos and pedes.

He wasn't going to hire anyone for this either. No, for you he would create a holo-form. There would be nobody else touching your body but him... Not that any other Cybertronian would know what to do anyway. Admittedly, Starscream was a touch possessive of you, and he was somewhat insecure about other bots getting too friendly with you.

You were his S/O, not somebody else's.

Anyway, once you were nice and relaxed, he was going to run you a hot bath with all those infernal bubbles that he hated so much. The wash pool was built for a Cybertronian, and though you had quite a lavish one in your quarters, he would rather spend time with you as himself so once the massage was over, he would shed his holoform.

He would get in the wash pool with you. He'd done that before. He liked to cup you in his servos and watch the water drain from them. He also adored it when you sat in his lap, and he had to lift his knees so you weren't in too deep. It was after all supposed to be a relaxing session, not an exercising swim.

Then, once you were all warm and dry in your plush dressing gown, he would lay with you by the fire and feed you chocolate-covered strawberries, or whatever else your heart desired.

And after all that... Well, there was one more human custom. A ring in a box, and the promise of forever.

#transformers #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #maccadam #idw transformers #more than meets the eye #mtmte #ll #the lost light #lost light #starscream #starscream x reader #transformers starscream #idw starscream #pampering

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maitanii · 1 year ago

Text

ABOUT YOU | INUI SEISHU

an: i don’t know how to write fanfics of x reader, it’s not really my thing. but i had fun writing this. so enjoy <3 i listened a lot to the 1975 while i was writing this and i didn’t know what to put as a title. this is just me loving inui seishu.

cw: bonten timeline (this takes place in 2013) | Implicit sexual content | toxic relationship (not the main one) | alcohol consumption (both reader and Inui drink a beer)

wc: 6k

THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 5TH. 2013.

"I'm looking for a job."

"Thanks, but no."

"I’ve seen the sign you have at the entrance and the job offer on LinkedIn."

"No."

The young man's eyes never leave the car magazine he's leafing through disinterestedly throughout the entire conversation. A pen is gracefully held behind his ear, and a grease stain adorns his pale cheek.

"Can I at least talk to your boss?" You put your hands on your hips. The man lets out a deep sigh before forcefully closing the magazine's pages. He raises his gaze to meet your eyes and forces the most insincere smile he can muster. In his green pupils, there's nothing but annoyance.

"Of course."

With heavy movements, he takes two steps with his long legs and elegantly opens the flip phone on the counter. After a few moments of awkward silence, another phone rings in the room. You search for the object producing the sound. When the phone's beep stops, a toilet flushes. The small wooden door behind the counter swings wide open, revealing a massive figure zipping up his pants.

"Seishu, damn it, you don't even let me go to the bathroom," The blonde man laughs, sarcastic, before returning to his serious expression. "Sorry, boss." He shrugs, raising his thumb and pointing at your figure, standing in front of him. "This girl here says she's looking for a job."

You look the sturdy man up and down who stands before you. You swallow hard as you examine the tattoos that decorate the side of his head.

Draken raises an eyebrow, looking at Inui, who leans on his arms at the counter, amusedly watching the scene. The tall young man with the tattooed skull returns the girl's gaze before extending his hand.

"I'm Ryuguji Ken," shaking his hand back, you pronounce your own name. "So you're here for the job offer... Do you know anything about motorcycles?"

"Not exactly. My father was a big enthusiast. But I learn quickly and make good coffee."

Inui continues to look at you with a poker face. Did you really come to apply for a job at a motorcycle shop without knowing anything about the subject? What's next, studying international relations and trying to build a bridge?

"Oh, I see," Draken says, touching his chin with two fingers, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "You're young, pretty, and you seem nice. You might attract some customers and be of help to us. You're hired. You start tomorrow."

"What?"

"Yes!" Your exclamation only emphasizes the vein that protrudes on the blonde man's pale forehead.

Inui looks at Draken in disbelief.

"How is she supposed to help in the workshop if she knows nothing about motorcycles, Draken?"

"I put up the sign at the entrance because I needed someone at the counter, not to have another mechanic," Seishu tightens his lips and closes his eyelids. "Besides, if she needs help, you're always here in case something comes up, Inupi. It'll do you good to have some company to improve your social skills."

The tension in the room thickens as Inui grudgingly accepts Draken's decision, though he remains skeptical about the new addition to their team. With a deep sigh, he shifts his attention back to the tools in his toolbox, muttering something under his breath.

On the other hand, you do your best to conceal your excitement and nerves. You are determined to prove your worth, despite your limited knowledge of motorcycles. In truth, you don't care much about the specifics of the job; it's all about paying the bills for your apartment. Even though your mom insists on helping, it's too much for her. Several cafes rejected your job applications due to your refusal to accept exploitation or wear specific uniforms. That's why having a job just 20 minutes away from your house, with a consistent schedule and no split work shifts, feels like a great opportunity.

You are more than ready to embrace this new chapter in your life at D&D MOTORS, at least for the next few months until you earn your degree and sort out some other aspects of your life.

The one who isn't willing to embrace the concept of working with someone else is Inui Seishu. As you stand there, happily texting your mom about the new job, you can't shake the feeling that there's more to him than meets the eye.

THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 23TH. 2013.

Inui Seishu is the typical man who hates Twilight. You haven't asked him, but you know it. It's not like you have the opportunity to exchange more than two words with him. Every time you try to ask him something, you get a 'uh-huh' or a 'look it up on the computer' as a response. The only moments when you have more chances to talk to him are when you make a mistake in naming a part of the order or point something out. Then, Inui's sermons, as cold and abrupt as he is, echo off the walls of the shop. Later, Draken arrives to tell you it's not a big deal and gives you a pat on the back.

Even though you have only been here for two weeks, you have already gotten used to the penetrating smell of burnt oil and gasoline at D&D MOTORS. Your mother isn't exactly thrilled about you working in such an environment, especially with the rise of gangs in Tokyo, but she can't complain much if that job helps you pay the rent. Every day you look at the calendar, hoping to get to the final exams of your degree and say goodbye to Tokyo to return to your hometown.

“My co-workers are not dangerous, Mom, I promise. I have to go in. Love you,” you close your phone and open the heavy glass doors of the shop.

Draken is looking at the day's schedule, and Inui is starting to set up his toolbox next to the radio he uses to play some music during work time. The doorbell rings when you enter, catching Draken's and Inui's attention.

“Good morning. You are a bit late today. Everything okay on the way here?” Draken comments as he continues to write things in the notebook. A few days ago, you mentioned that you don't live in a good area of the city, but it's what you can afford. Inui, at his boss's words, lifts his gaze and finally greets you with a nod. His expression remains as serious as ever.

“Hello,” you reply with a smile, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. “Yes, my mother called, and I couldn’t hang up sooner. Sorry,” you make a slight bow. Draken laughs lightly.

“No worries, woman. I arrived a couple of minutes ago. Inui is always the first to arrive.”

“I just like to get up early,” the blonde says without much emotion.

Draken approaches you, leaving the counter.

“Today, we have a couple of customers waiting for us to take a look at their bikes. You know how it works. Inui inspects, and you write down what he tells you, understood? I have to handle several orders, so I'll be at the counter for today.”

“Understood,” you nod as you hang your coat on the rack. You are determined to show that you can be a valuable worker. Draken pats your shoulder before turning to Inui.

“Inui, you know the drill. Today, you're in charge of the initial inspection. I trust you'll do a good job with Eiichiro. He really likes your way of working.'” Inui nods without saying a word.

Both of them go to their respective tasks, and you prepare to assist your colleague in the inspection.

The discomfort in the air is palpable. You can't quite understand what part of your personality Inui finds displeasing. But you are at work to work, not to make friends, so you have to swallow your colleague's attitude without complaint. After all, the pay is generous, you don't have split shifts, and Ryuguji (or Draken, as he has asked you to call him on the third day) is a great guy.

When the first customer arrives, you watch carefully the meticulousness and attention to detail with which Inui works. It's evident that he has outstanding technical skills. You begin to take notes of his observations, trying to learn as much as possible.

You can't help but be acutely aware of the silence that envelops the workshop. The client goes away to run some errands while the revision is being done, and Draken is nowhere to be seen. Inui's work seems almost unnaturally quiet except for the occasional sound of 'hum' or 'pass me the screwdriver,' amplifying the awkwardness of the situation." . Every move appears as if it's part of a silent ballet. He almost looks bored, if it weren't for the light reflecting in his eyes. Eyes that look at you from time to time discreetly, as if waiting for you to make a mistake. You almost feel like a child waiting to be grounded. The absence of chatter or the usual workshop sounds adds to the discomfort, making you feel like an intruder in this world of expertise.

With a notepad in hand, you begin to take notes of your observations, the sound of the pen scratching against the paper echoing in the quiet space. You have already familiarized yourself with the brake locations and even sketched a few diagrams detailing the engine parts. But in the hushed environment, you can't shake the feeling of unease, like an outsider trying to blend into a world where silence reigns, and every movement holds a weighty significance.

Whenever you think you have identified a possible issue, your eyes meet Inui's unwavering gaze. Although he doesn't speak a word, his discreet look seems to silently pass judgment on you. After a few minutes of inspection, you cautiously venture to ask a question. "Could it be an issue with the engine's synchronization?" you ask. Inui nods slightly, but his expression remains unflinching. Soon, he redirects his attention back to the motorcycle.

You decide to delve deeper into your theory. "Perhaps it’s a blocked exhaust valve," you mention, tilting your head, hoping for a response or a sign of confirmation. Once again, Inui nods with a minimal gesture, without saying a word. He stands up while removing his gloves and shakes them against his pants. You close your eyes as you watch him smear grease on the fabric. That stain won't come off easily, not even completely.

As if he was a mind reader, Inui speaks for the first time in ten minutes. "I don't come to the workshop to stay clean. The dirtier my uniform is, the harder I've worked in a day," he says. You nod at his words, although you don't entirely agree with his statement.

"Oh, of course, it makes sense,". It doesn't make much sense, but who are you to contradict someone who seems to have no thoughts behind their gaze?

Back when you still lived with your mother and came home after a night out, you tried to make as little noise as possible to avoid disturbing her. In those moments, you felt the same way, measuring your words and avoiding causing any disruption. The lack of conversation and the absence of the usual workshop sounds only make the situation more uncomfortable.

Tearing the page where you’ve been taking notes from the notebook, you leave it on the seat of the inspected motorcycle, and then follow Inui through the workshop. Appearing submissive is something you hate; but working with someone who makes you feel like a burden with every step is even worse.

“Hey, Inui”

“Uh-uhm.”

“Am I bothering you?”

“Right now? Not much.” Inui grabs a denim jacket from the rack and drapes it over his shoulders. Draken looks at him from the counter, raising an eyebrow. ” I need to step out for a moment.” You watch how he touches the pocket of his jacket, probably making sure he has the pack of cigarettes he always carries around “I won't be out long. If Eiichiro comes back, you take care of it.” Nodding towards you, Inui proceeds to leave the premises. It has started drizzling not long ago.

You follow his figure with your gaze, observing how his hair sways gracefully with each step his military boots take.

“This guy... “ Draken's voice breaks the silence with a comment that is more for himself than for you.

“He's peculiar. “ you add.

“He's really damn weird.” Both of you laugh at his comment “But he's a very good person and a great friend. He didn't have an easy adolescence when it comes to making friends.” As he pronounces the last word, he gestures with his hands as if making quotation marks. “Give him time, you'll get along well.”

The conversation with Draken continued for a few more minutes. The rain began to intensify. Eiichiro should have arrived a while ago, and Inui hadn't arrived either.

"Inupi didn't have an umbrella, did he?" Draken asks. You shake your head. "Here, take one for him. He's probably in the alley on the other street, having a smoke, and he can't come out in this downpour. I'd go, but I'm waiting for a call. If Eiichiro comes, I'll let him know to wait for a moment."

Taking the umbrella that Draken hands you and another for yourself from the umbrella stand, you nod and start walking to the location. It must be a frequent spot for him to know where he is with such assurance.

As you approach the alley, you hear hushed whispers beneath the sound of falling raindrops. Suddenly, laughter fills the air. You clutch the umbrella you're holding tightly and press the other one close to your chest.

"Inui, I brought you an—"

The words you were about to speak are left unspoken. The scene unfolding before your eyes is hard to comprehend. Seishu's back is visible in the darkness of the alley, but the hands gripping his scalp and exploring his back under his jacket are unmistakable.

When you were taking a step back to return the way you came, both figures become aware of the sound and turn around. Seishu raises his eyebrows, and your gaze instinctively goes to his swollen lips. In an instant, you cast a glance at his companion. You couldn't see his features clearly, but slanted eyes and white hair greet you in the darkness.

"...umbrella. Return carefully."

Dropping the umbrella to the ground, you run back to the workshop. Embarrassment starts to course through your body, and your cheeks begin to burn. Suddenly, laughter begins to bubble up, and when you arrive at the workshop, you close the door and bend over your stomach, laughing.

Draken is just finishing his call when he sees you walk in the door. Hearing your laughter, a smile spreads across his face. The redness doesn't leave your cheeks, just like the feeling of embarrassment that penetrates your mind.

"He..." You still haven't caught your breath enough to articulate a word properly. "He was..." Opening your mouth to laugh again, you raise your hands to start clapping your fingers together, mimicking two people kissing.

Your boss laughs again.

"Oh, so you've met Kokonoi."

Approaching the counter to pick up your water bottle and take a sip, you heard the door beginning to open.

"Now," your coworker's voice made you jump, "now you're really bothering me."

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9TH. 2013.

Inui Seishu's lip balm has the scent of vanilla although his mouth carries the taste of tobacco. Kokonoi loves the former, but he detests the latter. However, whenever he sees Seishu, he doesn't waste much time before capturing his lips, entwining his fingers in his long blonde hair. He is the one who gives him that lip balm; the same one that Akane carries in her school case whenever they go to the library. This brings him closer to understanding what it would be like to kiss her.

But he's sure that Inui Akane wouldn’t have hands as big and calloused. Nor such a broad back. Nor the prominent Adam's apple in his throat. That's why closing his eyes and kissing Seishu is the simplest way to live out his fantasies

"I have a business trip tomorrow. I'm going to Hong Kong for a couple of weeks."

Oh, that's great," Inui replies, his attention still on his phone. The screen congratulates him for completing another Candy Crush level when he presses the lock button. "Are you going with the Haitani brothers?"

"No." Kokonoi's coat costs more than the entire D&D MOTORS shop and the rent of all the buildings in his neighborhood. Seishu watches closely as Hajime adjusts the collar of his shirt, covering any possible marks decorating the smooth skin of his neck. Any mark that brings him thoughts of Seishu; any mark that reminds him that it doesn't belong to Akane." "I'm going alone. I'll leave you money for the taxi and for another shampoo."

"Shampoo?"

"Yes." Turning towards him, Kokonoi approaches his body lying on the bed and grabs a strand of hair.

"I don't like the scent of the one you use. It's too strong."

"Ah." Seishu moves his hand aside to sit up on the bed. He takes his white T-shirt from the end of the bed and starts to get dressed. "Lately, my hair has been falling out quite a bit. Draken told me this one would help, but it's true the scent doesn't suit me much."

"Certainly not." Checking the time once again, Hajime gives a final look to the hotel room before approaching the door. "Goodbye Inupi, take care."

The sound of the closing door echoes within the four walls. A sigh escapes Seishu's lips. The king-size bed, covered with high-quality Egyptian cotton sheets, is too big for one person. Surrounded by fluffy pillows, he sat on the mattress and watched the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. He could take the opportunity to watch "House of Cars" and entertain himself. He had asked for the day off from Draken, so he wasn't in a hurry to go back anywhere. Although, in his day-to-day life, he never really rushed for anything. He didn't even have to go back anywhere.

He decided to lie back down and rested his forearm against his forehead. The distant sounds of the city served as a lullaby; Koko always chose hotels away from the crowd. He had time to stay in the room until six, and it was only four. He considered taking a nap but opted to check his mobile phone again. He had an unread message from Draken.

"Look at what you're missing out on," he smiled upon seeing the photo that accompanied the text. It's a blurry picture of a plate of Takoyaki and some fingers with silver rings peering in the lower corner of the photograph. You don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to know that the low-quality jewelry belonged to you. Tomorrow you would come complaining that your fingers were turning green. He would take the opportunity to call you Hulk, and you would get angry and say, "are you implying that I'm a monster?"

Seishu laughs before locking his phone and closing his eyes, sinking deeper into the tranquil cocoon of the luxurious hotel room. Outside, the city's lights began to twinkle as evening settled in.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4 TH, 2013.

There are good days and bad days. Today was one of the latter kind.

The guy you had been seeing had been leaving your messages on read for three days. It's not like you had grown too attached, but he provided some company outside of friendship. On the other hand, you had continuous arguments with his family for the most absurd reasons. Your roommate thought it was a good idea to finish your cereal box without asking and to constantly bring her boyfriend into the common areas of the house. To top it off, you got your period before leaving home. You felt like a matchstick being dragged across the box, destined to turn into white phosphorus at some point.

When your umbrella wouldn't close at the entrance of D & D MOTORS, and you arrived fifteen minutes late (with wet hair and socks) for your shift, the last thing you wanted to deal with was your coworker's comments.

Draken had to go on a business trip to pick up some parts in Osaka and was going to take the opportunity to see some old friends. Considering the time he spent at work, you were sure he could use some time away. However, this also meant more time with Seishu. And that didn't excite you much. He had been quite irritating lately. You had heard Draken talking about a fight with his boyfriend (or whatever their relationship was). You didn't care much about people's sex lives, except when it directly affected you. Whatever was going on with Inui, he was taking it out on you at work. So the best thing that could happen to him today was to keep quiet until the clock struck six, without sermons, sharp comments, or unnecessary sarcasm.

“Christmas is approaching, have you thought about asking Santa for a watch?”

“What?” The vein on your forehead starts to throb.

“I’m asking you if you've thought about being on time for once. Draken should start deducting hours from your contract.”

When his words meet silence, Inui places the wrench he was holding on the floor. He turns his body to face yours. His green eyes inspect you from head to toe with an indifferent look. Instinctively, you cover your stomach with your hands. Has he noticed that you look more bloated today? Without saying a word, he turns his head and goes back to his business.

“Are you going to start working now?” he asks.

You don't know if it's the stress, the piercing pain in your lower back, or the bad weather. But the tears in your eyes start to burn more and more.

“What have I done to make you treat me like crap?” The words flow from your throat before your brain can process them.”If you want, I can talk to Draken and ask him to switch my shift. But I don't deserve to be treated like this.”

“Like what? Look, I don't understand what's wrong with you today.”

“It's not today, Inui, it's every day” Tears began to roll down your cheeks. Damn it, you didn't want to cry today. At least not in front of anyone. “I don't expect us to be friends, but lately, it seems like you hate me, and I don't want that either.”

Seishu looks puzzled as you bring your hands to your eyes and try to wipe away the tears before they fall from your cheeks. How badly had he behaved? He wasn't the most careful person when speaking; his parents always nudged him when he was opening Christmas presents to make him put on a better face. Words kept coming out of your mouth, but Inui had stopped listening to you a few minutes ago, thinking about the interactions of the past week and measuring the words of what he was going to say next.

“I don't hate you. Not at all. I had a fight with someone important to me, and it affected my behavior. I'm sorry.” Bowing slightly, Inui prays that this will be enough to stop your tears.

“...and you're always so obsessed with me being a few minutes late; are you that obsessed with the time?” Your eyes remain hidden behind your hands, which continue to wipe away the salty drops endlessly pouring from your eyes.

He clicks his tongue and straightens up at the same time. With all the gentleness that his calloused hands allow, he delicately grabs your forearms to separate them from your body.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Moving away abruptly, you bring your arms to your chest protectively ”I don't hate you, okay?” He continues speaking. “To be honest, I'm just like that. I thought you knew” You raise an eyebrow at his words, sniffing the mucus generated by your tears with your nose.

“Did you think I found you that unpleasant?”

“No, I didn't mean that” He laughs lightly, putting a hand in one of his pants pockets, and handing you a tissue. His laughter is a very pleasant sound. “I'm not the most expressive person, I guess. I don't know, I'm a bit reserved. I don't usually express things the way I should. But I don't hate you, not at all. I haven't stopped to think about how I made you feel with my words, to be honest.”

Your reddened eyes meet his. For the first time, you notice that there is no boredom in his gaze. Just genuine concern. Despite your anger and frustration, something in the way he looks at you makes you lower your guard a bit.

“Well, that's a start, I guess” You murmur, feeling the tension slowly subside and bringing the tissue you had taken from Inupi to your nose. Inui nods as if he agrees with you. He seems uncomfortable, but he's willing to try to resolve the situation.

“I'll pay more attention to how I act, I promise.” You smile at his words.

“I've never heard you laugh” The poker face disappears from his face. The slightest blush decorates his cheeks. “I like your laugh, Inui.”

“Of course you like my laugh, you sound like a newborn piglet when you’re laughing” A mischievous smile appears on his face.

“Take that back!” Grabbing a cloth from the seat of a motorcycle, you start whipping his shoulder. Laughter begins to resonate in the shop as his Adams apple moves with every sound. “Good thing you have a boyfriend, because you're terrible with women.”

Taking the piece of fabric from your hands, Inui Seishu stands in front of you with an eyebrow raised. For the first time, you are aware of how tall he is. Despite his soft features, he has a very masculine jaw. Your eyes instantly shift to your hands, where you hold the other end of the cloth tightly.

“I don't think I'm bad with women in any sense. You can ask one of my ex-girlfriends if you want tho.”

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13 TH. 2013

The rainy days are the least crowded in the store. Only half an hour left before closing time, and it didn't look like any customers were going to walk in through the door. In the fridge, there were a couple of beers that Draken had bought for the Friday night shifts.

"You're going to laugh at me." The glass of the Asahi bottle was freezing the tips of your fingers. Inui had taken the last Kirin.

“Oh, believe me, I don't need to know your favorite movie to laugh at you. You give me plenty of reasons already.”

“I know, but I know you, and you're going to annoy me day and night.”

“It's Twilight, isn't it?” Silence fills the room before a deep laugh erupts from his chest. The sound quickens the pace of your heartbeat. It’s too pleasant, too familiar. If death were to knock on your door at that moment and offer you the chance to hear something for the last time, you would choose to hear Inui's laughter.

“Yes” You answer without thinking, with a smile on your face and a blush spreading across your cheeks. Your favourite movie isn’t Twilight, you don’t even like vampires. It was probably a 2000s sitcom or some Adam Sandler comedy. But you were still enchanted by the mischievous smile Inui fixed on you.

“Kokonoi has always hated Twilight” When he spoke those words, Seishu fixed his gaze ahead. He never talks about him. And you don’t really want to know. You observe how a sad smile makes its way in Inui’s face.

“And you don't?” You ask, giving him a light nudge in the torso.

“I love it” In response, your body turned automatically, your mouth opening in surprise.

“NO WAY” Now it’s your turn to laugh. Inui's eyes fixated on the dimple that occasionally appears on the right side of your face. He likes it (the dimple and your laugh).

“Draken and I went to watch Breaking Dawn Part Two at the cinema last year. Some girls invited us for a drink after the movie. It was fun.”

“Oh well, you use it as a flirting technique” You roll your eyes. A strange knot forms in your stomach as you speak those words “That doesn't count.”

“Pf, I don't need to say I like Twilight to flirt. Just covering this up with a bit of concealer is enough” His fingers pointed to the red mark that covered a quarter of his face.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, and a wave of questions and emotions fill your mind. Why would someone as attractive as Inui feel the need to hide a birthmark?

“Why would you do that? You have a beautiful face.”

A lopsided smile appears on Inui's lips before he took a sip from his beer bottle. You can be as blunt as him when you want. (He also likes that)

“You're very kind. Try telling me that when we're not drinking” he says while flicking your forehead with his free hand.

“Inupi, are you laughing at me?” Grabbing his cheeks between your hands, you gently squeeze his face between the sleeves of your sweater. “You have an enviable face. You don't have to be ashamed of a birthmark.”

“It's not a birthmark” Setting the beer aside, the young man grabs your wrist and rolls up the sleeve of your sweater on your forearm to let your fingers touch his forehead.

Feeling the wrinkled skin under your fingers, you shiver. It indeed wasn’t a birthmark; it was a scar. So Inui decides it’s time to tell you everything. The fire, Akane, Kokonoi, Shinichiro, his adolescence. Throughout the monologue, your hand continues to caress his head, alternating between his forehead and some strands of his hair. (He appreciates that). His voice didn't waver at any point. It almost sounded like a rehearsed speech, bordering on robotic.

Evoking pity is disgusting. Just remembering how his family's friends acted after the fire makes him angry. The looks they gave when they discovered the mark beneath the bandage, the whispers when they left his sister's room, the loneliness of his parents. Everyone went to say goodbye to Akane, but no one stayed with the Inui family. Except Koko.

"And at what point in your story do heels come into play?" Your voice disrupts his thoughts. He notices your hand is no longer on his head. Sitting on the floor, imitating his posture, your pinky timidly caresses the back of his hand. A shy smile decorating your face, inviting him to speak more. "When did you start liking heels?"

He was never a cheerful child, but he was a child who loved to laugh. Akane always tried by all means to erase the poker face from his expression, and most of the time, she succeeded.

At some point during his speech, his pinky ends up entwined with yours.

MONDAY DECEMBER 23RD 2013

The day Inui Seishu cuts ties with Kokonoi Hajime, the workshop is swamped with tasks. Christmas is in two days and people want to be able to travel with their bikes. Draken never stops answering calls, and you attend to customers, jotting down the problems they describe and directing them on where to park their motorcycles for Inui to inspect later.

It's not traumatic, and no tears are shed. It's expected by both parties. They haven't slept together for weeks. Inui is always straightforward with his words, and that day is no exception. Koko chuckles and affectionately caresses his cheek. His white hair is tied in a braid, and a diamond adorns his right ear.

"One less Christmas gift to buy, huh?" A mischievous smile spreads across his face."Take care, Inupi. You always know where to find me."

A light drizzle falls over Tokyo. Upon entering, Inui fixes his gaze on the scene unfolding before him. The last customer has just left the shop when you place a Christmas hat on Draken's head. He's smiling as he bends down slightly. Seishu closes his umbrella and approaches the counter. Your eyes meet his, and your hand extends a piece of red fabric, shaking it slightly.

"I'm not going to wear a Santa Claus hat."

"I know you're not going to wear it yourself," you say, circling the counter and getting closer to him. "I'm going to put it on you."

"I don't have another choice, do I?" he asks, but your arms are already outstretched, and the synthetic fabric is caressing his still damp hair. Seishu's impassive face doesn't reveal any emotion, but a slight glint in his eyes indicates that he's not as annoyed as he's trying to show. When you finish placing the hat, you lightly pat his cheek.

"Look at yourself!"

"I'm not going to."

But even with the worst expression on his face and speaking with as little energy as possible, the smile struggling to break through gives him away. As you step away for a moment to go to the bathroom, Draken winks at him. Inui's middle fingers don't take long to show his boss his shiny black-painted nails.

"Nice color."

"Screw you."

"Thanks, buddy."

Seishu approaches the motorcycle he has to finish fixing. A liquid leak can be repaired in 45 minutes if he hurries.

"Inui."

"Hmm?"

"Teach me how to ride a motorcycle."

The blonde pauses in his work. You? On a motorcycle? You, who trip over your own shadow and seem always about to cry when it gets cold and you forget your jacket? (he always ends up lending you his) Well, no, he's not going to fix the bike’s problem in 45 minutes.

"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to learn to ride a motorcycle in this weather?"

You sit down next to him on the floor and decide to watch as he resumes his work on the motorcycle.

"I can live with the risk it poses."

"All right, then. But I won't do it. Ask Draken," he says, rolling his eyes at your words. You huff. Not even a Christmas hat can motivate him.

"Draken is going to Osaka tomorrow to spend Christmas Eve with his friends."

"I know, he invited me to go with him."

"And? Are you going?"

"No, my parents want to have dinner with me" Inui lets out a sigh.

"Oh, well, that's fine," you reply. "So I guess we'll see each other on Wednesday. Don't think I'm going to stop insisting tho" you add.

Seishu smiles inwardly. He doesn't expect you to stop. (He doesn’t want you to.)

As you stand up to start tidying up the workshop, Draken says his goodbyes to both of you. He still has some packing to do, and he has to leave early in the morning, wishing you both a Merry Christmas.

"Why the sudden fixation on learning to ride a motorcycle?"

"I want to impress someone."

In all your interactions during the few months you've known each other, Inui has been the one to speak plainly. You always try to express things differently, frustrating everyone who dislikes indirectness (Him).

Seishu begins to remove his gloves. A small wrinkle forms on his forehead as he furrows his brows. Your shoes suddenly become the most interesting object in the room. So much so that you can't, and don't want to, take your eyes off them.

"Do you think you can impress someone by taking them on a motorcycle ride that could potentially end in the hospital?" Inui is the first to break the silence. His hands finish cleaning the motorcycle he has just repaired.

"He's used to my clumsiness. I don't think he'll be too impressed." The heat begins to rise in your cheeks as you speak each word.

Inui arches an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. But still, he doesn't say anything immediately. Instead, he stands up and places the gloves on the freshly repaired motorcycle. His eyes carefully examine your shoes for a moment, trying to see what's so interesting that you can't look at him.

"What if you tell him how you feel instead of trying to impress him with daring maneuvers?"

A mix of surprise and nervousness is reflected in your gaze. You know Inui always gets straight to the point, but speaking openly about your feelings is a bit more unfamiliar territory. However, you have resolved to take a step forward.

"That sounds too easy for the person I'm trying to win over. Don't you think a good dose of bravery on a motorcycle might be more effective?"

Inui smiles slightly, as if enjoying the wordplay.

"Oh, c’mon." Placing a hand on your head, he affectionately ruffles your hair. "What could be braver for you than being honest with yourself and others?" Fortunately, your brain can't throb like your heart is doing at that moment because, knowing Inui, he would drag you to the hospital in a heartbeat. "But, okay, if you think impressing him on a motorcycle is the best way to have a chance with him, then go ahead. I'll try to help you."

Your lips curve into a grateful smile.

"You're great, Inui, tha—"

"However, I have a condition. Actually, two." Placing a hand on your chin, he holds your head still to look into your eyes once and for all. Your shoes will have to stop being interesting for a few minutes. "The lesson will take place as soon as we finish the shift." As you open your mouth to reply, his finger moves to rest on your lips to prevent you from speaking. "And when we finish the lesson, invite me to watch 'Twilight' tonight and ask me out on a proper date. I'm not a fan of indirects."

"And what if I already have plans tonight?" you comment, gently withdrawing the hand that prevents you from speaking. Seishu smiles without taking his eyes off yours. His eyes reflect, for the first time in a long time, happiness. Your fingers interlace with his and his thumb caress your hand instantly.

"Then," leaning in close to your ear, you feel his breath on your ear. You love the smell of his shampoo "now you have better ones."

#tokyo revengers #inui seishu #inui x reader #inui seishu x reader #inupi seishu x reader #tokyo revengers fanfics #tokyo revengers x reader

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mxnsterbabe · 9 months ago

Text

Male Dragonborn/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,586 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You save A'rien's life. By dragonborn custom, he's in your debt.

It was late at night, and you were on your way back from a friend's house, the cool air brushing against your skin. The streets were unusually quiet, with only the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl to keep you company. You wrapped your cloak tighter around you, quickening your pace, eager to be home.

A sudden noise caught your attention, a clatter of metal followed by a grunt of pain. You hesitated, glancing towards a narrow alleyway just ahead. Shadows moved, and you could make out the forms of two figures struggling.

The hell was that?

As you neared the alley's entrance, you saw them more clearly. One was a dragonborn, his bronze scales glinting faintly in the moonlight, his form tall and imposing even as he dodged a punch from his opponent.

The other was an orc, his hulking frame dwarfing his opponent. The orc landed a heavy blow, and the dragonborn staggered, dropping to one knee. You watched in horror as the orc pinned him to the ground, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

You knew you had to do… something. Your mind raced, searching for a way to help. Without thinking, you grabbed a loose stone from the ground and hurled it at the orc. It struck his shoulder with a dull thud, not enough to injure but enough to draw his attention. The orc snarled, his grip on the dragonborn loosening as he turned to face you.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" the orc growled, his eyes narrowing as he took a step towards you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you stood your ground, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as you could muster. "Leave him alone!"

The orc chuckled darkly, but before he could take another step, the dragonborn took advantage of the distraction. With a burst of strength, he twisted beneath the orc, knocking him off balance. The orc stumbled, and the dragonborn surged up, delivering a swift punch to the orc’s jaw. The orc's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, the dragonborn stood over the fallen orc, his eyes glowing with a mix of adrenaline and relief. He turned to you, his expression softening as he took in your form. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "I think I should be the one asking you that."

He nodded, though his movements were slower, more measured. "I’m fine, thanks to you. I owe you my life."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. "It was nothing. I just... couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "By dragonborn custom, a life debt is not nothing.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the determination in his eyes stopped you. There was a sincerity there, a deep-seated honour that you couldn't dismiss. "Life debt," you said softly. "I’m not sure it’s that serious."

He took a step forwards, and for the first time you saw a glint of green in his copper eyes. “This idiot had me pinned, if you hadn’t come along… I hate to think what could have happened. I owe you my life.”

Your brows furrowed. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

He inclined his head respectfully. "I must. It is our way."

You sighed, realizing there was no arguing with him. "I suppose there’s no convincing you. What’s your name?"

"A'rien," he replied, his voice steady and calm.

"Well, A'rien," you said, offering him a tentative smile. "I guess we should get out of here before your friend wakes up."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that eased the lingering tension. "Agreed. Lead the way."

You walked side by side, the night air cool and quiet around you. A'rien walked with a calm assurance, his presence both comforting and intriguing. He glanced at you, his amber eyes glinting in the dim light.

“Allow me to walk you home,” he offered.

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and curiosity. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

As you made your way through the winding streets, you couldn’t help but steal glances at A'rien. His bronze scales shimmered subtly under the moonlight, each one catching the light in a way that made him seem almost otherworldly. The edges of his sharp teeth glinted when he spoke, and it made your heart skip.

“So, why were you fighting an orc in an alley?” you asked, biting your bottom lip.

A'rien’s expression turned slightly guarded. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’m not very popular in the orc community.”

You frowned, not satisfied with his vague answer. “Why not? What happened?”

He looked away for a moment, his gaze focused on the path ahead. “It’s complicated,” he said finally, a note of reluctance in his voice. “Orcs and dragonborn have a... history.”

Sensing his discomfort, you hummed. “Orcs have a history with just about everyone,” you replied softly. You turned a corner together, streetlights making his skin glitter. Turning your gaze away, you added, “they do love to pick fights.”

“We should report him to the guards.”

You walked in silence for a few moments, your thoughts racing. Despite his evasiveness, you felt a tug in your chest each time you glanced at A’rien. There was an allure in the way he held himself high, towering horns making him look even taller than he really was.

From the corner of your eye, you watched him as he surveyed the streets, ever vigilant. His features were strong and defined, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, a small underbite. Yet, there was a gentleness in his eyes when he looked at you, a softness that made your stomach flip.

Eventually, you spotted a pair of city guards patrolling a nearby street. You approached them, explaining the encounter with the orc.

“He’s probably left by now,” A’rien said, “but keep a look out for him. Big orc, tattoo on his left wrist. His name is Solveig, I don’t know his surname.”

The guard’s brow furrowed, almost like he’d been expecting it. “Yeah, Solveig’s pretty well known around here. Known for starting fights after a few too many drinks. We’ll keep an eye out for thim.”

“Good. Thank you.”

A’rien stepped away, turning back to you with a sharp-toothed smile. “So, I promised to walk you home. Lead the way.”

Despite the unusual circumstances of your meeting, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in his presence. He was big and imposing. Solid. Walking through the dark streets together, you couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to mess with you.

“So, which way now?” A'rien asked, glancing at you with a small smile.

“My home is just a few more streets down,” you replied. “If you have somewhere else you need to be...”

He shook his head. “My only duty now is to repay my debt to you. I will ensure you get home safely.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Well since you can’t be convinced, thank you.”

As you continued walking, you found it increasingly difficult to ignore the growing attraction you felt for A'rien. There was something about the way he moved, the quiet strength he exuded, that drew you in. Each glance, each brush of his scales against your arm, sent a flutter through your chest.

“So, what brought you to this part of town tonight?” you asked, partly to distract yourself. Okay, entirely to distract you.

A'rien smiled slightly, his eyes glancing at you before returning to the path ahead. “Oh, nothing you’d be interested in hearing about.”

You nodded, not entirely satisfied with his evasiveness but willing to let it go because, well, it wasn’t any of your business. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of nocturnal life. It was peaceful, almost serene, and the presence of A'rien by your side made it all the more comforting.

As you neared your home, the streets became more familiar. A'rien seemed to sense your growing comfort and relaxed slightly, though his vigilance never entirely faded. Finally, you reached your door, pausing under the soft glow of a lantern.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you said, your voice a bit softer than you intended. “I appreciate it more than you know.”

A'rien’s gaze held yours, his amber eyes intense yet gentle. “It was my pleasure. Ensuring your safety is the least I can do.”

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The air between you crackled with unspoken words and possibilities. A'rien stepped closer, his towering form casting a protective shadow over you. You held your breath, your heart racing as he leaned down. For a second, you thought he might kiss you, and a rush of anticipation surged through you.

Instead, his hand reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was tender, almost intimate, and it sent shivers down your spine. His proximity, his scent—earthy and slightly metallic—filled your senses.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Goodnight, A'rien.”

With a lingering smile, he straightened and stepped back, giving you space. You turned and unlocked your door, feeling his eyes on you as you slipped inside. The door closed softly behind you, and you leaned against it, your heart still pounding.

As you made your way to your bedroom, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, stayed with you, replaying in your mind like a cherished scene from a dream. You changed into your nightclothes and slipped into bed, the cool sheets frigid against your skin.

Lying in the quiet darkness, you found your thoughts drifting back to A'rien. His strength, his gorgeous copper eyes, the unexpected gentleness in his expression—all of it captivated you.

You fell asleep thinking of him, and slept through the night without waking.

***

The next morning, as you opened the door to step outside, you were startled to see A'rien standing there. His bronze scales gleamed in the early sunlight, and he looked as composed and alert as ever. You blinked in surprise, trying to make sense of his presence.

“A'rien, what are you doing here?” you asked, unable to hide your astonishment. “How did you know what time I’d be out?”

A'rien’s expression was calm and serious. “I’ve been waiting since dawn.”

You laughed lightly, thinking he must be joking, but the unwavering look in his eyes told you otherwise. “Really?”

He nodded. “It is dragonborn custom. I owe you a life debt. I am honor-bound to protect you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you felt a mix of emotions—flattery, curiosity, and a touch of amusement at his earnestness. “I see,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “Well, I appreciate your dedication.”

He inclined his head respectfully. “May I walk you to wherever you’re going?”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer. “I’d like that. I’m heading to the apothecary.”

As you began walking together, town slowly waking up around you, you stole a glance at A'rien. He moved with a quiet grace, his eyes scanning the surroundings with vigilance. There was something incredibly reassuring about his presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a growing fondness for him.

“So,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence, “what does this life debt entail exactly?”

A'rien glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “It means that until I have repaid my debt, I am bound to protect you, assist you in any way I can, and ensure your safety.”

You nodded, absorbing the gravity of his commitment. “That sounds like… a lot.”

He smiled slightly, a rare but welcome sight. “It is, but it is also an honour. Your act of saving my life binds us in a way that is deeply respected among my people.”

Yoru cheeks warmed at that.

The streets became busier as you approached the apothecary, and A'rien’s presence seemed to draw curious glances from passersby. It wasn’t common to see dragonborn around here, you couldn’t blame them for staring.

Reaching the apothecary, you turned to face him, feeling a pang of reluctance at the thought of parting ways, even if only for a few hours. “Thank you for walking me here,” you said sincerely.

A'rien nodded. “It was my pleasure. I will wait for you here when you finish your work.”

You smiled, touched by his unwavering commitment. “I’ll see you then.”

He smiled, almost wistfully, eyes bright. “Yes, I will see you this evening.”

***

The days at the apothecary passed in a blur of activity. Despite the bustle, your thoughts often drifted to A'rien. His steadfast presence outside each morning and evening had become a reassuring routine. True to his word, A'rien was waiting when your workday ended, ready to escort you home.

As the days turned into a week, you found yourself looking forward to these walks more and more. Every morning, he was there, a quiet sentinel, and every evening, he walked you home, his presence a comforting constant in your life. His dedication was unwavering, his protectiveness almost endearing.

One evening, after another long day, you couldn’t contain your curiosity any longer. As you strolled through the streets with A'rien by your side, you glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “A'rien, I’ve been meaning to ask… what do you do for work? You’re always available to walk me to and from the apothecary. Are you never busy?”

A'rien’s expression remained composed, but you could see a flicker of something—hesitation, perhaps—in his eyes. “I… have certain duties that I fulfill. Ensuring your safety is my primary concern at the moment.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “A'rien, you’ve been incredibly kind and dedicated, but I feel like I don’t really know much about you. I’m not asking for your whole life story. Just… a hint.”

He sighed softly, looking away for a moment. When he met your gaze again, his eyes were dark. “It’s not that interesting, really.”

You didn’t have much choice but to accept that at face value because, well, you couldn’t force him to tell you. So you nodded, and fell silent, and didn’t ask any more. You didn’t ask the next day either, instead simply admiring him from the corner of your eyes while he wasn’t watching.

You noticed the small things about him—the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he listened intently to your every word, the subtle way he ensured you were always safe and comfortable. This wasn’t just obligation.

At least, you hoped not.

One evening, as you walked home, the sun setting in a blaze of colors, you felt a sudden rush of affection for A'rien. You stopped again, this time on a quiet street where the sounds of the city were distant murmurs.

“A'rien,” you said softly, looking up at him. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you. Your dedication, your kindness… it means a lot to me.”

He looked down at you, his expression tender. “It is my honor. Protecting you is not just a duty—it’s something I want to do.”

Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand. His scales were cool under your touch, rough and leathery. It brought a smile to your lips.

When you reached your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding. “Goodnight, A'rien. I’ll see you in the morning?”

He smiled, a rare and beautiful sight. “Goodnight. I’ll be here.”

As you unlocked the front door, a sudden movement seemed to catch A’rien’s eye. His posture stiffened, and he held up a hand. “Be quiet,” he whispered, his voice tense and alert.

Confusion washed over you, quickly morphing into fear as you followed his gaze. Across the lawn, partially hidden by the shadows of the trees, was a hulking figure. Your heart sank as you recognized the orc from before—Solveig. This time, he was armed with a serrated knife that glinted in the faint light.

A'rien remained calm, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. Meanwhile, panic surged through you, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as Solveig stepped forward, his eyes locked on you with a predatory gleam.

A'rien moved to stand between you and the advancing orc, his stance protective. “Stay behind me,” he murmured, his voice steady. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with determination. “It seems I will repay my life debt sooner than anticipated.”

You nodded, too frightened to speak, your eyes wide as Solveig approached, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. The orc’s smile was cruel, his grip on the knife tightening as he prepared to strike.

With a growl, Solveig lunged forward, his knife aimed. A'rien met the attack head-on, his bronze scales catching the dim light as he braced himself for the clash. Your heart pounded in your chest, every muscle in your body tensed.

A'rien met Solveig's lunge with a swift, fluid spin, unsheathing two gleaming daggers in the blink of an eye. The blades clashed against Solveig's serrated knife, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the night. You swore that you saw sparks fly, but surely that was impossible.

Right?

Solveig's brute strength was overwhelming, each blow powerful enough to cause the ground to shake beneath your feet.

A'rien had agility on his side as he slipped around Solveig, scales glinting in the waning light. His expression twisted as he slashed at Solveig, opening up a slash across Solveig’s shoulder. Red blood bloomed.

You watched, heart in your throat, as A'rien dodged Solveig’s next attack, barely managing to duck out of the way as the knife came down.

Fear gripped you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the fight. Your thoughts raced—should you run inside for help or stay and find some way to assist A'rien? The temptation to seek safety inside was strong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him.

Solveig roared, swinging his knife in a wide arc. A'rien ducked and rolled, his daggers flashing as he struck back. Each strike was measured, aimed to disable rather than kill, showcasing his skill and control. Solveig was relentless, pressing forward with sheer force, his knife slicing through the air with lethal intent.

You ducked back into the shadows, your mind a whirl of fear and helplessness. You wished desperately for a way to help, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric of your cloak. The intensity of the fight was overwhelming, every clash and grunt sending a shiver down your spine.

In a sudden, brutal move, Solveig managed to land a crushing blow to A'rien's side, sending him sprawling to the ground. A'rien’s daggers skidded across the lawn, out of reach. Solveig loomed over him, his smile twisted with victory.

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you darted forward, determined to help A'rien despite the danger. As you moved, A'rien’s voice rang out, strong and commanding. “No!”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. A'rien struggled to rise, his eyes fixed on you, desperate. The message was clear—your safety was paramount, and he didn’t want you to risk yourself.

Tears stung your eyes as you took a step back, torn between the urge to help and the fear of making things worse. It felt like your chest was constricting, breath coming in rasping gasps.

Despite A'rien's warning, you couldn't stand by and do nothing. Summoning every ounce of courage, you rushed forward, your mind racing. You watched as if in slow motion as Solveig drew back his knife, looming over A’rien-

You weren’t thinking. Barely even aware of A’rien’s, no, stop! You rushed forwards, arms outstretched, and tackled Solveig. The ricochet of your own body slamming into his made you bounce back, legs flailing; but as you fell, you brought Solveig down with you.

"Shit!" Solveig growled, as the two of you landed in a tangle of limbs.

Your heart pounded, but rolled away from Solveig, wiping diary and hair from your eyes. "Leave him alone!"

With Solveig distracted, A'rien seized the opportunity. With a surge of strength, he lunged forward from the ground, sweeping Solveig's legs out from under him as he tried to stand. The orc stumbled, crashing back down to his knees, and A'rien sprang up, delivering a powerful blow to Solveig's head. The orc's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, A'rien glanced at you, a mix of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice rough from exertion.

You nodded, your pulse still racing. "I’m fine. We need to tie him up before he wakes."

Without wasting a moment, you dashed into the house, searching for anything that could serve as a restraint. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed a coil of rope from a storage closet. You hurried back outside, where A'rien was already moving Solveig towards the porch railing.

Together, you worked quickly, your fingers fumbling with the rope as you bound Solveig securely to the railing. A'rien’s movements were efficient and precise, his strength ensuring that the knots were tight and unyielding. You could feel his calm presence beside you, compared to your own erratic movements.

Once Solveig was securely tied, you stepped back, breathing a sigh of relief. The immediate danger had passed, but the weight of what had just happened still hung in the air. You turned to A'rien, your eyes meeting his.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice shaking slightly. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch.”

A'rien’s gaze softened, and he reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “You were brave,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “Please, next time, listen to me.”

Laughter burst from your throat, high pitched and manic. “I can’t promise that.”

As the adrenaline from the fight began to fade, a sense of relief washed over you. A'rien finished securing the last knot and stood up, glancing at you with a twinkle in his eyes. He broke the silence with a light-hearted chuckle.

"That's two life debts now," he said, his voice teasing. "You’ll never be rid of me at this rate."

You laughed softly, the tension easing from your shoulders. "That’s fine by me," you replied, meeting his gaze with a warm smile. "I don’t want to be rid of you."

A'rien’s expression softened, his warm eyes meeting yours. Without thinking, you stepped closer, your heart beating faster as you felt the magnetic pull between you.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The gesture was tender, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flickered to your lips and then back to your eyes, silently asking for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching as you leaned in. His lips met yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth. A'rien’s kiss was surprisingly soft, his lips cool against yours. You could taste a hint of metallic sweat, mingled with an almost earthy flavour that was distinctly his.

You responded, deepening the kiss as your arms found their way around his neck. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer, the strength in his embrace balanced by an unexpected gentleness. He kissed you like a man starved. Or, perhaps, like a man who had wanted to do this for far too long.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. You could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

A'rien’s eyes were half-closed, a content smile playing on his lips. His fangs peeked through. Cute.

"I never thought I’d find someone like you," he murmured, his voice thick.

The night was quiet again, the tension of the earlier confrontation easing into a calm, peaceful silence. You and A'rien stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, simply enjoying the moment. The warmth of his presence, the steady beat of his heart, was a comforting balm to your nerves.

A'rien broke the silence with a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “We should alert the guards that we have Solveig before he wakes up,” he said softly.

You nodded, your thoughts reluctantly shifting back to the unconscious orc tied to your porch. “Will he have a concussion?” you asked, glancing over at Solveig’s prone form.

“Definitely,” A'rien replied with a small smile. “Orcs are hardy. He’ll be fine.”

As you started to pull away, A'rien leaned in to kiss you again, a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart flutter. His hands gently released their hold on you, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you.

As you turned towards the door, a thought struck you, and you paused. “A'rien, why are you in town?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “You never did answer me, and with Solveig here, I can’t help but wonder…”

A'rien’s expression grew slightly more serious, his eyes holding yours for a long moment. He opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of his words seemed to hang in the air.

Eventually, A'rien took a deep breath and met your gaze. "I suppose you deserve to know the truth," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and vulnerability. "I was supposed to be trying out for a position as a city guard."

You blinked in surprise, and then a laugh bubbled up, breaking the tension. "Why did you hide that from me?"

A faint smile played on his lips. "I wanted you to think I was skilled and battle-worthy, not just some recruit trying out for a position. I didn't want you to see me as weak."

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. "A'rien, you are skilled and battle-worthy. You've proven that more than once. You should still go for the position."

He shook his head, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. "How can I be a good guard if I've had to be saved by you twice now?"

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips capturing his. The odd texture of his skin didn’t bother you; the warmth of his breath, the coolness of his scales, made your chest flutter.

His surprise melted into warmth, and he responded with a deep, breathy sigh.

When you pulled back, your foreheads resting against each other, you whispered, "You are strong and capable, A'rien. Everyone needs help sometimes. That doesn't make you weak.”

A'rien’s eyes softened. "You always know what to say," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth.

Just then, the distant sound of guards approaching grew louder, breaking the intimate bubble around you. A'rien straightened, his hand still holding yours. "I suppose we should let them know about Solveig," he said, his tone practical, even as his eyes glowed.

You rolled your eyes, sliding your hand snugly into his. “I suppose we should.”

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster romance #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: dragonborn

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cigarettesaftersae · 1 month ago

Text

homesick - 10 every breath you take

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: sae x f!reader | childhoodlovers!au

Stuck in a small town near the coast with a previous crush on a boy who returns after years

Christmas note at the bottom:p

Inside this warm and cozy cafe, off to the corner of the small town lays two pretty best friends. With soothing coffee juzz steaming up the air and flowers on the wall, “You have to, please.” Mel insists, her eyebrows flared up like Emilia Clarke as you shake up some orders. Your back turned, facing all the customers and her till you once again answer with a “No, I already told you I’m busy.”

“Oh with what? All you’re doing is dressing up for a bit. I need a model for like a second.”

“Yeah last time that happened, it wasn’t for one day.” Ever so the stubborn girl you are, staying determined with your one and only answer. It was necessary for your opposing answer which originated on past events when you last accepted with care, Mel had took you captive for about a whole day and two.

“And I’m busy with… my job, and writing and stuff.” Your brief words didn’t come out quite confident leaving a suspicious thought in Mel’s head

“Right… and what is your writing about?”

“Gothic literature, isn’t that cool?” You try and change the subject to rinse her mind of what she was trying to pull you into. Modeling for her new brands of clothes on the company she worked on, the last time you did it you found yourself on the cover of a magazine. Last time, you checked you wrote for those kinds of stuff not posed for it.

“Y/n, please, babygirl.” Her persistence was unwavering, her begging carrying a desperation that might seem excessive for something as trivial as this appointment.

“Can’t you ask someone else?” you say, tilting your head slightly. “Or maybe get one of your teammates—or a co-worker—to help you out instead. That one guy, uhh…Jude?”

“I can’t.” Mel groans in distress “We were in a meeting and they all just chose me as a recruiter because last time they seemed to like you.”

“Uhh ever heard of rejecting an offer?”

“Well you weren’t there, they just pushed it on me.”

“You’re horrible, absolutely horrible” You say with narrow eyes and an accusing pointing finger between her eyes

“And you’re lovely, that’s why they want you.” Her lips curved into a cocky smile

“So that’s a yes.”

“Nope”

Your focus remained locked on Mel’s brown eyes, so drawn in, like a black hole, that you didn’t notice Sae walking out to the front—a rare occurrence when he was working. As he handled a few orders, your attention stayed with Mel, your preoccupation earning you the unofficial title of Bad Employee of the Month.

Then something shifted. Mel’s gaze wasn’t on you anymore. It had drifted past, landing directly on Sae Itoshi.

You didn’t need to read her mind; her expression screamed it loud and clear. Still, you tried to cut it off before it started. “Uh, no.”

“Ugh—why not? Who is that hottie? Why didn’t you tell me you were working with a total babe?” Mel squealed, her excitement bubbling in her usual girly fervor. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “He even looks kind of familiar...”

“That’s Sae Itoshi,” you said, keeping your tone casual, though you already anticipated her reaction.

As expected, Mel’s jaw dropped. She froze, eyes wide and unblinking, stuck in a loop of shock.

“No way. That’s Sae Itoshi?”

“He’s going to reject. He’s kind of a dingus,” you said, shrugging.

“A dingus? Uhh, that is Sae Itoshi. Awesomely hot, insanely talented, and clearly too cool for this job,” she gushed, practically vibrating in place as she ogled him.

“Are you kidding me?” you deadpanned. “The guy’s gotten like half the orders wrong today, and I’ve been secretly fixing them. This guy order a coffee with no cream and he put two extra creams. How does that happen? He’s only good at soccer.”

Mel, entirely unfazed, sighed dreamily. “He’s even more gorgeous in person. And his lashes—ugh, they’re longer than mine. That’s just unfair.”

“Yeah, he’s also Mister Mysterious Childhood Boy,” you muttered, almost to yourself, but loud enough for Mel to catch it.

Her silence was deafening, her expression screaming realization. “Wait... Like, as in vending machine boy? That was Sae Ito—”

You slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her exclamation. “You’re so loud!” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gonna hear you!”

Mel’s wide eyes darted between you and Sae, her excitement barely contained even through your palm.

“He’s not gonna agree to your modeling—Mel, what are you doing?” you whisper-yelled as she suddenly got up from her seat.

Without hesitation, she crossed the room, her gaze locked on Sae like a predator zeroing in on prey. You scrambled to follow her, but she was too quick. Standing across the counter from him, Mel leaned in slightly, her confidence radiating.

“Agree to my team’s model,” she said firmly, her voice carrying the kind of determination that could stun anyone. But would it be enough to sway someone like Sae Itoshi?

You caught up to her, panic bubbling up as you tugged at her arm. “Mel, stop—”

She turned to hush you with a dramatic wave of her hand, not even sparing you a glance.

“Please,” she continued, her voice softer now, almost pleading as she looked directly at Sae. “It’ll help your soccer career. Think of the exposure.”

Sae’s gaze locked onto her, sharp and assessing, as though he was scrutinizing every inch of her with an intensity that made even you uncomfortable. His expression was unreadable—cold, calculating, and completely unaffected by Mel’s enthusiasm.

“You think I need someone like you,” he began, his voice low and cutting, “to boost my career? A lousy loot like you?”

The words dripped with disdain, slicing through the air like a blade.

“It’ll magically help our dearest Y/n,” Mel insisted, her tone softening into a pleading lilt as she leaned just a bit closer.

You cut in, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Sae, you don’t have to—”

But Sae raised a hand, silencing you without so much as a glance. His attention stayed on Mel, his expression unchanged, icy and unmoving.

“What clothing?” he asked, his tone devoid of enthusiasm, as if the very question bored him.

“Calvin Klein,” Mel blurted out, her voice quick and eager, clearly hoping to sway him.

Sae’s gaze didn’t soften, nor did his expression change. “Talk to my assistant about it,” he said flatly, turning away as if the conversation was already over.

Mel turned to you, a smug grin tugging at her lips. “Huh… that was way easier than I thought. Did you notice how he started to agree after I mentioned you?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re in denial. He started to agree after you mentioned Calvin Klein.”

But Mel wasn’t done connecting dots. Her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Wait—didn’t you say your co-worker took care of you when you got sick?”

“Yeah, why?” you replied with a shrug, unsure where she was going with this.

Mel’s jaw dropped slightly, her voice dropping to an excited whisper. “It was Sae!”

You stared at her, unbothered. “Yeah, so what? He was only doing it because Maria convinced him.”

“Righttt…” Mel dragged out the word, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face. “Because Maria convinced him. Totally not because he secretly cares about you or anything.”

You shot her a flat look. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows with a sly grin. “Or am I just really good at reading the signs?”

“You’re really good at being delusional,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Mel ignored your jab, her excitement undeterred. “So… do you still want to model?”

You raised a brow. “You got Sae Itoshi on the job.”

“Yes, but we need a girl too,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You sighed heavily, the weight of her persistence finally wearing you down. “Fine,” you groaned “but you owe me lots and lots of hot chocolate with whip cream too.”

—

“I seriously can’t believe you got Sae Itoshi to model for us,” one of Mel’s coworkers gushes, her eyes practically sparkling as they linger on Sae’s striking face.

Mel smirks, adjusting her clipboard. “It actually wasn’t that hard.”

You glance at Sae, who stands just a few steps away, quiet and composed as always. Mel and her team buzz around, preparing the set.

“I thought you weren’t going to do this,” he says, his tone neutral but his teal eyes briefly meeting yours.

“Mel’s magic words,” you reply lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Do you usually model?” Sae ask after a pause.

“Once, Mel needed someone for some bra product photo shoot. Next morning, I woke up on the cover of a magazine.”

He hums in response, his gaze sweeping over the bustling set. Then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, his eyes return to yours. “You must be used to this,” you say, quieter now, almost hesitant.

For a moment, there’s silence. His eyes hold yours—steady, piercing, and unreadable. It feels as though the rest of the world has melted away. If you let your imagination run wild, you could almost believe his hand and yours were inching closer, magnetized by some unspoken force.

But then, just as quickly, he looks away, breaking the spell. You blink, jolted back to the present, and wonder what went through his mind. Sae Itoshi: so mysterious, so cold—and yet, you think, there’s something there. A flicker of something only you seem to notice.

“Alright, the set’s all ready. You two good to go?” Mel strides over, clipboard in hand, her tone brisk.

You nod, stealing a glance at Sae. He pinches the skin on his left thumb, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.

Was he nervous? No, that couldn’t be it. Sae Itoshi doesn’t get nervous. Maybe it was a habit, or perhaps a ritual for luck. Either way, the action felt oddly human, peeling back another layer of the enigma before you.

Ever so mysterious, you think, ever so unreachable. And yet, here he was, standing right next to you.

“First up is you,” Mel says with a smile, her tone cheerful but commanding as her eyes land on you.

Your stomach drops, and you feel the weight of regret settle over you. Why had you agreed to this again? You swallow hard, forcing a weak smile in return.

“You’ll be introducing a new product my team and I developed,” Mel explains, her clipboard held tight against her chest. “It’s a casual pair of baggy jeans—super trendy right now. And…” She pauses for dramatic effect. “You’ll also be introducing a bra product.”

“Again?” you groan, your voice dripping with exasperation.

Mel smirks knowingly. “You have to do it. We used your exact measurements to model this bra. You just have the greatest boobs”

“Excuse me?” Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Before you can argue further, Mel spins you around and gives you a gentle shove toward the set. “Go on,” she says, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.

Still reeling, you reluctantly take your position. Behind you, Mel turns to Sae, her professional demeanor returning.

“And you,” she says briskly, “my teammate will explain your job.”

Sae’s icy gaze shifts to her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he doesn’t move, as though considering whether to comply. Then, without a word, he walks off toward the team member, his posture confident and detached, like he’s done this a hundred times before.

Mel watches him go, her smirk softening into a satisfied smile. “Always so compliant when he wants to be,” she murmurs, mostly to herself.

You glance back at Sae, watching as he listens to instructions with his usual calm intensity. Even from this distance, there’s something about his presence that feels larger than life—aloof, yet magnetic.

“Focus!” Mel’s voice cuts through your thoughts, snapping you back to your own task. You sigh, adjusting the fit of the jeans as the camera crew begins to circle. “Okay okay..” you mumble with a pout.

The shoot finally began, a flurry of activity surrounding you as the crew adjusted your outfit, tended to your makeup, and ensured every detail was perfect. Under the lights, you posed modestly, doing your best to follow their instructions.

Once your turn was over and you stepped off the spotlight, you made your way back to Mel, a warning already on your lips. “You better not use those for any covers,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her.

Mel held up her hands defensively, though her grin was anything but innocent. “I told you, we’re sending these to our manager. He decides if they’re good enough.”

She paused, then added with a mischievous glint in her eye, “He just seems to really like your pictures... and I’m sure Sae will too.

Mel punctuated her tease by wiggling her eyebrows dramatically.

“That’s… a no,” you replied flatly, crossing your arms.

“Oh, come on,” Mel whined, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated plea.

“Come on what?

“It’s obvious,” she said, as if the answer were written in neon lights above your head.

“No, it’s not. And I barely have time for… all that,” you countered, waving a hand dismissively.

“You can’t just push it away,” Mel pressed, her tone edging toward exasperation.

“Watch me,” you shot back with a bit of sarcasm, turning on your heel with a pointed glare.

Sae takes up the stage as if the stage was made for him, besides his unbelievable soccer talents he butchered flawless beauty like no other. Leading all eyes on him, finding it hard to pass by him since anyone even maybe you wanted to just stay right where he was. “Hey” the voice capturing you, shocking you into reality, looking up you see Jude, Mel’s very handsome co-worker you might add “oh, hey” you wave a smile “I’m glad you came back here to help us. It’s a great pleasure” His smile grinned and shined his pearly white teeth, his bold lips, and arch on his nose completing his looks. “It’s my pleasure” Your gaze drifted back to the red hair ahead. Jude caught the shift “Heard Mel and you recruited him, how’d you do it?”

“It was mostly Mel actually.”

“Mel said the same thing but instead you did most of it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing full well it was exactly the kind of thing Mel would say. Before you could respond, the shoot wrapped up, and Sae stepped out of the spotlight.

It wasn’t the sight of him leaving that caught your attention—it was the fact that he was walking straight toward you. Your breath hitched as he got closer. The faint yet rich scent of his cologne reached you first: a blend of woody tones with something warm, almost soothing, like the ocean at sunset. It overpowered your thoughts, lingering more than the presence of Jude standing right next to you. Sae stopped just short of you, his voice calm and unhurried. “I’m heading to Maria’s. Did you want to come?” The question floored you. Of all the things Sae Itoshi could say, this was not one you—or anyone else in their right mind—would have expected. “Oh…well I promised I was going to hang out with Mel. I’ve been really busy lately and she just got back in town.” His expression remains the same, but you notice maybe…a pout on his lips? Maybe you’re imagining things, yeah.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there with a strange knot of guilt and confusion in your chest.

“Well, I’m gonna get going,” you said to Jude, barely meeting his gaze before taking off. “Got a whole day ahead.”

You hurried away, only to bump straight into Mel, who grabbed your shoulders dramatically.

“What was that?” she asked, her tone laced with incredulity.

“What was what?” you replied, feigning innocence.

“That, he was basically asking you, ‘come with me baby,’ like a Jake and Rose” Mel even re-acts the scenes from the Titanic, hugging out her arms towards you

“Uh, he definitely did, in his Sae Itoshi way,” she insisted, wagging a finger at you. “Also, is Jude still trying to hit on you?”

“Hit on me?” you repeated, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah, girl. He’s into you,” Mel said with a knowing nod.

You shrugged it off with a laugh. “I’m not into anyone, so good luck to anyone out there.”

extra

On a Monday afternoon, Sae sat across from you, as he did every week for your usual Monday lunch. This week, however, the air carried a faint buzz of holiday cheer—it was Christmas week, a time for joy, presents, and festive cheer. None of which seemed to affect Sae’s ever-aloof expression.

In front of you sat a half-empty cup of coffee, its warmth still rising in faint wisps, while Sae quietly worked his way through a simple meal of rice and salted kelp.

Without a word, you reached into your bag and placed a small, wrapped box on the table, carefully sliding it toward him. It was neatly tied with a red bow, and the sight of it felt slightly out of place next to his no-nonsense demeanor.

“I got you a present,” you said, your tone casual but with a hint of nervousness as you tried to gauge his reaction. “You can open it right now.” You smile, and he looks at you then back at the box. His slender fingers unfolding the bow and lifting the top finding a mini plushie of himself inside and laying beside his mini version is a note. “You can read the note later” You rush before he opens it.

“It’s me” He says lifting up his plushie. “With a small star on your head” You giggle softly

“Here” Sae slides over a box and you gasp “No Way, a present from the Sae Itoshi.”

“Just open it” He looks out to the window. With a peek inside, you see a bit of fur, it’s soft and cute. A cat plushie, which you discussed with him when you were sick. “Are you Santa?”

“Only if you like stupid stuff like that” Sae remarks, watching as you gleam at the present he brought.

With a wave of goodbye, you two separate away into the snow and Sae heads off to his black gleaming car. Sitting inside on his passenger sit was your present. He gently opens your note card, being greeted with an tongue out :p emoji, “Merry Christmas Sae, I hope you like the present and for next year that you smile more often rather than being a grumpy grinch. You have nice dimples.” love, y/n

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