#izana makes it look as effortless as breathing

[deathfavor]

@ashrifts said: Learning how to play the guitar is difficult, but even more so is admitting that it's difficult for him. Where his face would normally reflect serenity, there's a slight frown upon his brow, lips almost pouting as his elegant fingers fail to strum an equally graceful tune. He doesn't ask Izana for help, but there's no hiding the defeated sigh as he lowers the instrument on his lap. "You make it look easier than it is, captain." (can be for the pirate au if you want!)

The sun bares down on them, but the ocean breeze keeps everything a pleasant temperature even when fully exposed. For now the ocean is smooth and there's no ships in sight; there likely won't be for another day or so if Izana's predictions are correct ( and they typically are ). For now much of the crew is relaxing, and it's a prime opportunity for playing his instruments. After all, there is only so much one can do on the ocean, and music fends away boredom. ( Especially when the musician continues to learn new songs like Izana does. )

Ran does well at hiding his frustration despite the fact that it is blatantly obvious to Izana. He watches the attempt to play the right strings with the right force, but the strings and notes do not sing under Ran's fingers the way they do for Izana. It is a valiant effort despite this. Unfortunately, music can be as unforgiving as the sea or this crew's captain, and with precious few instruments, there's nowhere to hide the errors.

Izana chuckles, his beloved guitar resting in his lap in a similar style to Ran. " Do I? " He might be teasing, he might be being serious. " I have been playing for a while. " He reminds, though it does little to explain the ease at which Izana learns and masters songs as well.

" Do you want me to show you again? " He inquires, though he's rather sure Ran is nearing the point of being done with this, at least for the day. He leans over, index finger tapping against the exposed skin of Ran's wrist as gently as when Izana strums the strings of his guitar.. " Your wrist position is sometimes off, it makes it harder to move between the notes. lifting his guitar back up, fingers caressing the strings. "

He mercifully offers another option. " Or we can take a break, and I can play for you. " Izana offers, lifting his guitar back to its proper position. Even just a gentle strum of his fingers over the strings had the guitar coming to life under his fingertips.

[nana-mania]

(don't get offended about this please 😭😭)

scenario: reader seems to have the perfect life: a blossoming career, loving husband izana and a growing family. but the perfect facade shatters when she discovers that he is having an affair with a chef. she goes on to confront the mistress saying "what did you feed my husband?" or smth like that...

"SHATTERED VOWS" he betrayed you

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : izana kurokawa

࿐*ೃ fandom : tokyo revengers

࿐*ೃ extra : fem! reader, angst

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ LAUGHTER of your three-year-old son echoed through the house as he played in the living room. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the hum of your favorite playlist. It was supposed to be a perfect day, a snapshot of the life you and Izana had built together.

But your mind was elsewhere, drowning in the horrifying discovery you never thought you'd face.

It had started a few weeks ago. Izana had been distant, coming home late and brushing off your questions with vague excuses about work. You wanted to believe him—after all, he was the love of your life, the father of your children, the man who had always held your hand through thick and thin.

Until last night, when you found the text messages.

They were innocuous at first glance—just exchanges about food and work. But there was a familiarity in the tone, a warmth that he hadn’t shown you in weeks. And then, there it was;

"Last night was amazing. I can't wait to see you again."

Your heart broke in an instant. The sender was someone named Akari, a chef who worked at one of Izana’s favorite restaurants.

The betrayal was like a knife to your chest, twisting deeper with every beat of your aching heart. You spent the night in silent cries, unable to confront him while your son slept soundly in the next room. But today, with Izana at work, you had made up your mind.

You needed answers.

The restaurant was bustling when you arrived. The aroma of grilled meat and simmering sauces that would have once been comforting now felt suffocating.

You spotted her immediately—Akari. She was poised and radiant, her hair pulled back neatly as she worked at her station. Everything about her screamed effortless confidence.

It only took a moment for her to look up, her eyes meeting yours. The blood drained from her face as recognition dawned. You didn’t wait. Marching past the startled hostess and ignoring the curious stares of the staff, you headed straight for her.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Akari asked, her voice calm but wary, as if she already knew the answer. You slammed a stack of papers onto the counter with a force that made the utensils around her jump. “Oh, you can definitely help me,” you snarled, your voice loud enough to cut through the clatter of the busy kitchen.

The restaurant seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of chopping and sizzling fading as the staff turned their attention to the scene unfolding.

“What did you feed my husband?” you demanded. A flicker of panic crossed Akari’s face, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” Your voice rose as you grabbed the stack of papers and began throwing them into the air, the screenshots of her text conversations with Izana fluttering like damning confetti.

“Was it the food? The compliments? The attention?” you spat. “Or was it just your cheap, shameless need to feel wanted by someone else’s husband?”

Gasps rippled through the kitchen as the staff scrambled to pick up the scattered papers. The incriminating texts were clear for all to see; “Last night was incredible,” “I can’t stop thinking about you,” “When can I see you again?”

"I bet I'm better than your wife. She is so stupid"

Akari’s calm facade cracked as whispers erupted around you. Her coworkers exchanged looks of shock and disbelief, some glancing at her with thinly veiled disgust.

“Stop this,” Akari hissed. “You’re making a scene.”

"I’m just getting started, actually,” you snapped, pulling out a second set of evidence—photographs of her and Izana together. You flung them onto the counter, the glossy images landing face up for everyone to see.

There they were, laughing together, her hand resting on his arm, and in one particularly damning shot, sharing a kiss in the parking lot of the restaurant.

But the most shocking pictures were; pictures of them entering hotel together and committing sinful adultery, as clear as day.

“You’re not just a homewrecker,” you announced loudly, “you’re a fucking whore who thinks it’s fun to destroy someone else’s family. A woman with no morals, no shame, and no decency.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Akari’s face burned crimson, her hands shaking as she tried to gather the papers and photos.

“Enough!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” you cut her off, stepping closer, your eyes blazing. “You couldn’t care less about what you’ve done to me, to my son, to the child I’m carrying. You just wanted what wasn’t yours.”

Akari opened her mouth to protest, but before she could get a word out, you slapped her. The sound echoed through the kitchen. The staff froze, some letting out audible gasps. Akari staggered back, her hand flying to her cheek as tears filled her eyes.

“You don’t get to defend yourself,” you hissed, your voice trembling with rage. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

She looked at you, tears in her eyes. Her coworkers whispered amongst themselves, the words “homewrecker” and “disgusting” floating through the air.

You straightened, adjusting your coat as you fixed her with a cold, unforgiving stare. “I hope every bite of your ‘perfect meals’ tastes as bitter as the lives you’ve ruined. You don’t deserve to hold your head high, not after this.”

Turning on your heel, you left the restaurant, your footsteps echoing in the silent room. As you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, and for the first time that day, you let yourself breathe.

You had confronted her, exposed her for what she truly was. Though, the battle wasn’t over.

That evening, Izana came home to find you sitting in the dimly lit living room, your son fast asleep in your lap. He stepped into the room. “Hey, mahal,” he greeted softly. “How was your day?”

"I went to see her." was all you siad. Then, you carefully rose, cradling your son in your arms, and walked past him toward the nursery. His brows furrowed, confusion clouding his features.

“Y/n?” he called after you. “What’s going on? Who were you talking about?”

You returned a moment later, the sound of the nursery door shutting echoing through the house. Your son was safely tucked away, leaving you and Izana alone in the suffocating silence.

Izana took a step toward you. “Y/n, what is it? You’re scaring me.”

Without a word, you reached into the side table drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. Your shoved them into his chest. “Read this.”

He caught the papers reflexively, his eyes scanning the header. Divorce papers. His face drained of color.

“W-What is this?” he stammered, looking up at you in disbelief. “What did I do?”

“Don’t.” The single word was sharp, a warning that made him freeze mid-step as he reached out to you.

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as you backed away from him. “Don’t touch me, Izana. Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Y/n, please,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Just talk to me—what’s going on?”

Your composure shattered like glass. “You want to know what’s going on? I know, Izana!” you yelled, tears streaming down your face. “You fucking cheating bastard! You thought I was a fool?!”

His eyes widened in shock, guilt flooding his face as he opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“Do you have any idea what it felt like?” you continued. “To find out that the man I trusted, the man I loved, was betraying me? To look at those messages and realize that while I was here raising our son and carrying our second child, you were out with her?”

Izana’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. “What? You are pregnant?”

You sobbed, your voice trembling. “You didn’t even know because you were too busy with her.”

“Y/n, I—”

“Don’t you dare try to explain this to me,” you interrupted, your voice rising with every word. “There is no excuse for what you’ve done. None.”

He looked at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “It wasn’t... it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and filled with pain. “Stop saying that. Do you think that makes it better? That it makes it hurt any less?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I felt lost. With work, with everything... And she... she made me feel important. Like I mattered.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. “And I don’t? I’ve stood by you through everything, Izana. I’ve loved you, supported you, built a life with you. Was that not enough?”

He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for you again. “You are enough, Y/n. You’ve always been enough. I just—”

“You just what?” you demanded, stepping back. “Needed a fucking virgin to make you feel good? To make you feel like a man? Was I not good enough for that either?”

Tears streamed down his face now. “I was stupid. I was selfish. And I’ve hurt the one person I never wanted to hurt.”

"You are. You are fucking pathetic. I gave you everything. My heart, my trust, my life. And you threw it all away for her.”

His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, his hands clutching the divorce papers. “Y/n, please,” he begged. “Don’t do this. Don’t give up on us. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll fix this—I’ll fix me.”

You stared down at him, your chest heaving as the tears continued to fall. “I don’t know if I can forgive you, Izana,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Right now, I don’t even know if I want to.. Oh, to hell with that. You can go to hell with your side piece.”

He sobbed openly, clutching the papers as if they were a lifeline. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered. “I can’t lose my family. I can't lose us.”

His words hung heavy in the air, but they couldn’t erase the pain he had caused. You turned away, heading for the stairs.

You didn’t wait for him to speak again. Instead, you climbed the stairs and shut the bedroom door behind you, leaving him alone with his guilt and the shattered pieces of the life you had built together.

The next morning, Izana woke up to a deafening silence that filled the house like a void. The usual sound of his son's giggles, the scent of your perfume lingering in the air, the warmth of your presence—everything was gone.

He sat up abruptly, his heart pounding in his chest as he called out, “Y/n?”

No response.

He stumbled out of bed, panic setting in as he rushed through the house. The first thing he noticed was the empty closet. Your clothes, his son’s tiny outfits, the shoes lined neatly against the wall—they were all gone.

In the living room, the family photos that once adorned the mantle had disappeared. The baby toys that usually cluttered the floor were missing. Every sign of you and Haru had been meticulously erased, leaving the house cold and hollow.

And then he saw it.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, placed deliberately where he couldn’t miss it, was your wedding ring. The delicate band that had once symbolized your love and commitment gleamed under the harsh morning light.

Izana froze, his breath hitching as he picked up the ring with trembling fingers. It was small, almost fragile, but it felt impossibly heavy in his hand.

His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, the realization crashing down on him. You were gone. You had left. And you’d taken your son with you.

He clutched the ring tightly, his chest heaving as sobs wracked his body. Images of your life together flashed through his mind—the day he proposed, your wedding, the moment he held his son for the first time. All of it felt like a distant dream now, replaced by the cold, hard reality of his betrayal.

He glanced around the empty house, the silence mocking him. How had it come to this? How had he allowed himself to destroy everything he held dear?

He buried his face in his hands, his tears soaking his palms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, though he knew it was too late. You weren’t here to hear him, and even if you were, he doubted his apology would mean anything now.

Izana stayed there for what felt like hours, the wedding ring still clutched in his hand. It was the only thing you had left behind.

The only memory of his love and his betrayal.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this scenario! im crying so hard. this hurt my heart as izana stan but man, we love some good angst once in a while. likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

[sabraeal]

The Noblest Prince the World Hath Known

Written for @onedivinemisfit on the occasion of her birth!! She asked for a little bit of an Scandinavian Lore AU we had tossed back and forth a year ago, with Shirayuki as a huldra and Obi as svartalfar, and I was all too happy to oblige.

When father sat upon Tanbarun’s throne, he loomed head and shoulders over any who approached, a giant among men. Yet Raj sits in the very same chair, and he has to crane his neck to peer over the crowd.

It’s unfair, that’s what it is. He could see the doors if he wanted-- he’s not small, like Clarines’ prince. Or well, their second one. He hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting their king-to-be, but he’s heard rumors. Three whole alen if talk is to be believed; which it never is, and even less so now that he’s seen Zen is only little over two and a fot.

But if it was, the first prince of Clarines would be able to see the doors from the throne-- which he never would, because only the royal line of Tanbarun was allowed to sit upon it. But in this particular thought exercise-- what his tutors liked to call the tedious puzzles they inflicted upon him as training and to increase his moral fiber-- he could and he was, and Izana Wisteria, due to be first of his name, saw easily from one end of the hall to the other.

Unlike Raj, who could not. Or rather, unless he wanted to look like he was trying, which according to various philosophers on the subject of royalty, was a mistake that could only result in tragic consequences. That’s the hardest part of this whole princing business--  trying to look like you’re not trying while you’re really trying quite hard.

“Do you see her?” His neck aches from all this effort. Especially all the effort he’s putting in to make it seem effortless. “Is she here?”

“It does not seem as if she is, Your Highness.” Sakaki shifts beside him, needlessly vigilant and still mild as ever. “Do not strain yourself. I can see quite easily--”

“You don’t need to rub it in,” he mutters, slouching into the red velvet. “You’re an adult after all. If my father is any stick to measure myself by, I’ll be quite tall, Sakaki. Even taller than you. Three alen at least!”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“You might try to sound like you mean it.” He folds his arms across his chest, elegantly sullen. Father might say such a look isn’t becoming of a man of his station, but Raj can name at least three ancestors whose official portraits contained a regal slouch. That seems more than enough to prove his point. “Why isn’t she here yet? Doesn’t she know royalty arrives last? It’s terribly rude to make a prince wait.”

Sakaki clears his throat. “Not for the vette.”

Raj huffs, cross. “I don’t see why not! It’s a simple precedent. One does not keep their betters waiting.”

His aide hums, gaze fixed to the doors. “In the opinion of the vette, they have no betters.”

“No betters?” Raj squawks. “Did not the Lord give man dominion over the land and the animals? And then among them, did he not raise up his chosen as kings?”

The muscle in Sakaki’s cheek twitches. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Raj throws up his hands. “Then what’s the problem?”

His aide clears his throat, so delicate, before he says, “I am afraid they are not much moved by the laws of Christ when so many of them are older than the Lord himself.”

He doesn’t realized his jaw has dropped until it is cushioned by his cravat. “You cannot be serious.”

Shirayuki-- the protector of the wood herself-- hardly looks older than twenty. A damn sight younger, by his count. He’d accept a hundred years for her, give or take, but older than Christ--?

Certainly not. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sakaki,” he scoffs, waving a hand. “You should know better than to believe old wives’ tales. Nothing could live so long.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” His mouth pulls thin. “Still, they do not consider themselves to be subject of any mortal king. They rule themselves.”

“W-well we didn’t tell them they could do that!” Raj sputters. His fingers loop into the grooves of the throne, golden claws dripping down from his fingertips. “Ridiculous! What makes them think they can flout the will of God?”

Saki’s mouth twitches; it is not toward a smile. “What do they need with the Lord’s kingdom when they were once gods themselves?”

He stares, heart beating fast in his chest. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, Your Highness.” Sakaki’s shoulders set in a tense line. “But it doesn’t matter what I believe. It matters what they do.”

Raj’s mouth works uselessly, trying to bid an answer to fall from him lips but--

But he is saves but a stir in the crowd, by the grand doors swinging wide, and there she is--

Shirayuki.

Her hair shines in a burnished halo, reminding him of nothing more than the stain-glass angel in the chapel, her arms thrown open over the altar, blazing in the morning sun. It is no wonder than man used to look upon women like her and call them goddess when even he, Defender of the Faith, the Lord’s most devout champion, sees her and only divinity leaps to mind.

“The vette is here,” Sakaki says.

“I can see that,” he snaps, jutting out a hand. “She’s standing right there!”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The nobles bend to her in awe, but it is her companion that keeps them skirting back, fear in their eyes. Obi may be as formally dressed as any man in this room, but whereas Shirayuki can pass for something more than human, he is something less. His teeth flash sharp and white against the black of his skin, so dark that he seems to consume light rather than repel it.

Svartalfar, some whisper, but on the same breath, demon. Even wearing his master’s livery, Obi cannot escape the suspicions of another, darker one.

“You’re supposed to open the floor with her.”

“I know that!” Raj jolts from his chair, storming down the dais. “I planned it!”

Sakaki lingers a step behind him. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Raj slows his stride as he approaches, taking care not to seem too eager, too hurried. He will be king one day, after all. A king rushes nowhere; the entire world spins at his pace--

“Prince Raj.” A slender hand holds itself out to him, and when he chases the sun-kissed skin, it leads him to Shirayuki’s radiant smile. “You’ll face me?”

He scowls, shoulders itching beneath the wool of his jackets. “Coming from you, Lady Shirayuki, that sounds like an invitation to duel.”

“Then let us set our terms.” There is no malice in her words, no challenge; only the playful sing-song of her kind. “We’ll see if we’ve managed to improve this bond between us.”

Her shadow huffs at that, but it’s good humored, no threat within it. Even Sakaki’s hand doesn’t stray toward his hilt.

“If you have selected the ballroom as your field of honor, and dancing as your weapon--” he takes her hand, guiding her into his arms-- “then your victory is assured.”

Quite dashing all in all, if he does say so himself. A real tour de force

The crowd gasps, though not at his prowess; that is solely the provenance of Shirayuki’s dress-- or rather, what is inside it. He leads her onto the floor, and that they all see what he did that day in the woods outside Tanbarun: a beautiful woman whose back cuts away from her flesh, as hollow inside as a log.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” She grimaces as the orchestra hesitantly plucks out their next piece, eyes still stuck on the huldra in their midst. “I’m not exactly, um...”

“Come now.” He smiles wide, cajoling. “I have seen Zen’s winged vette on the floor. Even with a fraction of her grace, surely you are nothing but a-- OW.”

“I warned you,” she hissed, the cream of her face flushing a rosy pink. “I’m not very skilled in, um...” She bites her lip; less divine presence and more comely young debutante. “My gifts lie in other areas.”

“Ah-haaa,” he groans, resisting the urge to cradle his foot. “Yes. I’m sure I’ll be glad of that later. For now we must...make do.”

She nods, and ah, she makes it so easy to forget is not some pretty mortal girl. That is the way of the huldr; always longing to be human. “Sorry.”

“No, no.” This time the band chooses another, easier tune, upbeat but well-paced. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had a terrible partner, if you can believe it. I mean--” Sakaki glares at him from across the floor-- “not that you’re terrible.”

“It’s fine,” she giggles, stumbling over her feet. “There’s no reason not to call a spade a spade.”

He stares down at her, her cheeks rosy as any maiden’s. “I think you will find very few people think that way.”

Her brow quirks, sly. “Ah, I forget. Mortals are so fragile. Even your feelings are delicate.”

“A funny thing for a vette to say,” he scoffs, leading her into a turn-- one she botches, stumbling over her own feet. “Wasn’t it one of yours that wanted to destroy the world because it bothered him that another was so well loved?”

He expects her to frown, to show him the same gentle disappointment he’d come to expect from her these last few months, but--

“They did.” Her mouth curves, mischievous. “Perhaps you should take that as a warning, Prince Raj. It could take so little to displease me.”

She’s teasing; the humor lights her face like the sun does the dawn. But his heart sinks even still, hand tightening on her waist.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did want to demand satisfaction,” he admits, sullen. “It was my duty to keep you safe, and I’ve done a terrible job of it.”

She laughs softly, like the babbling of a brook. “Prince Raj--”

“No, it’s true,” he insists. “What good is a prince who can’t even keep a woman from being kidnapped in his own castle? Name your second.” He winces. “I suppose it is Obi, and I have no chance at all.”

She shakes her head, mouth curved in a rueful smile. “You’re not the first to blame himself for my troubles, and it’s no more your fault that his. Besides, you aren’t Zen,” she reminds him, “you have only men at your disposal. And no man is a match for a vette.”

He bites his cheek. It had only taken him, the useless prince of Tanbarun, to chase her away from her place of power. Whatever the vette had been, they were it no longer.

That wasn’t a point to bring up on the dance floor, however.

“I’m glad you wore the dress,” he says instead, and this time when he spins her out, she comes back gracefully into his arms. “I was afraid you might not like it.”

“Ah, yes.” She blinks down at the gown, missing a step he quickly compensates for. “It is quite...revealing.”

“I thought it made a point.” His fingers twitch on the silk. “Though I must admit, I wasn’t quite sure where to hold you.”

Shirayuki laughs, bell-like and clear. “I’m just like anyone else.”

Raj glances at her from the corner of his eyes. “Far from it.” He coughs. “I’m glad to see that you’ve recovered from the last time I saw you.”

He nods at the buds that stud the line of her back, the moss growing lush along the edges of it. None of the brown lingered, nor the bare patches.

“Ah.” Her gaze tangles with his, his heart beating faster. “What withers only grows back stronger. I will bloom again.”

“Lady Shirayuki, when it does...” His heart pounds, words choking him with their earnestness. “I would like to see it.”

Her feet still entirely beneath her. “If you are asking me as a friend, Prince Raj...” Her mouth breaks into a wide smile. “The sure. Happily.”