#journaling is super relaxing for me

[mmriesoftvat]

i said this over discord, but i'll say it here.

kami 1000% keeps a personal journal to document his life and the things he's doing in sumeru. he finds it therapeutic to jot down all this thoughts, and knowing he doesn't have to recite them again for nahida. he finds comfort in writing, as well as reading.

[kurp-stuff]

.

[heckahecker]

anyways on the upside i got a new work journal for all my notes and whatever. and it’s super cute it’s got a cat and it has little markers at the top of the pages to circle if it’s rainy or cloudy or sunny and it’s simple enough that i don’t have to spend 10 years filling out the top but it makes me so happy to tick off the weather for the day 🥰

[yuukimiyas]

໒꒰ྀི ◞ ◟꒱ྀིა

[rosierin]

not so easy | atsumu miya

synopsis; atsumu didn’t mean to spiral. but jealousy hits different when the girl you’re kinda-maybe-sorta in love with starts laughing at someone else’s jokes. now the apartment’s tense, the silence is loud, and his pride is doing everything it can to keep him from saying what he actually means.

(aka: i miss you. i’m sorry. i don’t know how to do this—but I want to.)

disclaimer; this fic will bounce between atsumu and (y/n)'s pov!

a/n; dont worry this aint super angsty, just a bit more introspective than what i usually write. ive weaved in a soft suna moment and some light-hearted bro talk :p

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

Atsumu Miya rarely got jealous.

Not because he’d never been given reason to—but because, in his eyes, he was the reason.

He had the looks. The charm. The talent. A fast mouth to back it all up and the skill to make sure it never sounded hollow. He knew what he brought to the table, and he brought it loudly. With flair. With confidence. With certainty.

Even when it came to Osamu—his twin, his mirror, the one everyone always loved in a quieter, steadier way—it had never been envy. No, with Osamu, it was rivalry. Pure and simple. The kind that lit a fire under his skin and pushed him forward. Faster, stronger, better. It made him hungry, sure—but not bitter. Never bitter.

That wasn’t jealousy. That was drive.

But (y/n)?

(Y/n) was different.

The only person who’d ever made something ugly twist in his chest and settle there like it belonged.

And it wasn’t even that she did anything. That was the kicker. She just was.

Sweet smiles, soft hands, warm eyes. Always so patient with him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Always seeing through the noise, the flash, the jokes—cutting clean through to the part of him he didn’t know how to talk about. She had this way about her—like she didn’t just look at people, she read them.

And for someone like Atsumu, who’d always been so loud about who he was… it was equal parts thrilling and terrifying to be understood so quietly.

She got under his skin without trying. Without even knowing.

And maybe that was why the first time he’d ever truly felt jealous, it had come out of nowhere. Like a sucker punch. No warning. Just a quiet ache and the unmistakable sense that something was his, and someone else was about to take it.

He remembered the moment vividly.

It was stupid, honestly.

They were just picking her up from class.

The three of them had done it a dozen times—Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna strolling across campus like they owned it, waiting outside the writing building for her to appear like clockwork.

It was routine. Familiar. A comfort.

But not today.

The simple reason being? She wasn’t alone when she walked out.

Atsumu noticed before anyone else, mid-conversation with Suna about something most likely irrelevant. His voice trailed off when his eyes locked on her. She was standing next to a guy. Tall. Kinda clean-cut in a “tries but not too hard” sort of way. He had rings on his fingers, a journal tucked into one arm, and the relaxed confidence that rubbed Atsumu the wrong way instantaneously.

They were talking. Close. Closer than necessary.

His smile was easy, practiced. And worse—(y/n) was smiling back, her laughter ringing through the campus.

It wasn't just a polite chuckle, either. Not just a soft smile. She was laughing. Head tilted slightly, eyes crinkled, the way she only did when something genuinely caught her off guard.

Atsumu’s steps faltered.

Suna glanced sideways. “You good?”

“Huh?” Atsumu blinked, covering it up with a grin. “Yeah. Peachy.”

But he wasn’t. Not when he could already hear it coming—like a freight train on a collision course with his mood.

“Don’t forget to send me those notes, sweetheart.”

Atsumu stopped dead.

His breath hitched.

Did he…?

Osamu made a noise. Suna raised a brow. Nobody said it, but they all felt the shift in the air.

“Did I hear that right?” Atsumu started, his voice cracking somewhere between disbelief and irritation.

“Uh-huh,” Suna said flatly.

“Who does he think he is?” Atsumu muttered, voice dropping into something lower. More personal.

Osamu and Suna exchanged a look. Osamu was the one to diffuse the tension, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Ain’t that yer line?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu replied—too firm. Too quick. Too obvious.

“Didn’t realize you trademarked it,” Suna added, dry as always.

(Y/n) spotted them and waved, her smile lighting up like always—blissfully unaware that a war had just begun inside Atsumu’s chest. She jogged over, cheeks flushed, still catching her breath.

“Hey! Sorry, we ran a little late. That’s Tetsu—he’s in my poetry elective.”

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

It echoed like a drumbeat in Atsumu’s skull.

He forced a grin. “Sweetheart, huh?”

(Y/n) blinked. “Oh—yeah, he just… says stuff like that—kinda like you do. It’s not a big deal.”

No big deal.

Right.

Totally.

Atsumu stared at her, pulse tapping loud behind his ears. “‘Kinda like me,’ huh?”

He'd almost hissed.

She blinked again, her smile faltering just enough to make something in his chest twist. Her brows pinched, just slightly, like she was trying to figure out what she’d said wrong.

“S’wrong with you?” she asked lightly, eyes flicking between him and Osamu like the latter might have answers.. “You’re acting a bit weird."

“Nothin's wrong,” he shot back—too fast. Way too fast. “Just didn’t know we were handin’ out pet names now, s’all.”

Osamu gave him a warning look. The kind that meant, pull it together.

But Atsumu was already halfway gone. His fists were already clenched in his hoodie pocket, and the words were already bubbling up.

It was the first time he’d ever hated someone for being nice—for being funny.

For making her laugh.

He didn’t say a word the rest of the walk.

He kept his eyes fixed ahead. Not because there was anything worth looking at—he just needed something to anchor him. His stare went vacant, unfocused, like his brain had gone somewhere else entirely. The path in front of him blurred at the edges. Everything around him—the footsteps, the breeze, the faint hum of traffic—faded into background noise.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Osamu making light conversation with (y/n), mulling over dinner ideas like nothing was wrong. Her voice chimed in now and then, soft and bright, completely at ease. Suna lagged behind, phone in hand, probably on Reddit.

But Atsumu barely registered any of it.

His brain was too loud. Too hot. Churning, hissing, burning.

He felt like a kettle left on the stove—lid rattling, steam building, seconds from boiling over.

He was stuck on that one stupid word. That name. That guy.

Tetsu.

He’d said it so casually. Sweetheart. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like he hadn’t just kicked over a landmine.

Atsumu bit the inside of his cheek.

It wasn’t even the word, not really. It was the ease of it. The way (y/n) had smiled when Tetsu said it. The comfort. The familiarity. Like it was something she expected from him. Like she liked it.

Atsumu didn’t know when she’d gotten close to this guy. Didn’t know he was part of her writing class. Didn’t know they walked together after class. Exchanging smiles. Laughing at his jokes.

All things she used to do with him.

The thought settled in his gut like a stone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Later that night, back at the apartment, (y/n) padded into the kitchen in search of tea—only to pause when she saw him. Atsumu stood in front of the fridge, bathed in dim light, staring blankly inside like he’d forgotten why he opened it.

He didn’t reach for anything right away. Just stood there a moment longer, eyes flicking lazily over the shelves like nothing in there was quite worth the effort.

He hadn’t noticed her yet.

“Hey,” she said softly.

His head jerked slightly at the sound of her voice, like he’d been pulled from far away. “Oh. Hey.”

He offered her a glance—brief—before turning back around. No smile. No warmth.

(Y/n) watched his back as he grabbed a carton of milk, lifting an arm to take a long swig.

She raised an eyebrow. She didn't approach him right away. Just stood at a reasonable distance, observing. Assessing, rather.

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, voice dripping with fake charm.

She gave him a slow blink. There it is.

It wasn’t the first time he’d deflected, but this time it landed harder than usual. She wasn’t oblivious. She had a very solid idea what was bothering him—and she wasn’t about to spell it out for him. Not yet. Not when she was giving him the chance to say it himself.

Part of her wanted to scoff at her own restraint. Fat chance.

“You were kinda quiet earlier,” she probed, still gentle, still coaxing.

“Just tired."

A lie. So obvious it was almost insulting. His voice didn’t have that worn-out drag she recognized after long practices or late nights. This wasn’t fatigue. This was avoidance, plain and simple.

Why couldn’t he just admit it?

Her jaw ticked once. That was the worst part—he didn’t even try to sell it. Like he was hoping she’d let it slide.

But she didn’t.

Not tonight.

“Right. Just tired.”

A pause stretched between them, taut and humming.

“I talked to Tetsu,” she added casually, watching him from the corner of her eye. “He texted me after we left. Said you seemed… intense.”

That got his attention. She didn’t miss the slight twitch of his brow.

“Oh, did he?” His voice had gone flat. “Glad I made an impression.”

(Y/n) hummed. “You did. He asked if you hated him or if you were just having a bad day.”

“Sure he did.”

(Y/n) folded her arms, watching as he tinkered aimlessly around the kitchen. Looking for a distraction. Back turned, facing her like a stone wall.

“He’s actually really nice, you know.”

She could've sworn she heard a scoff. “I’m sure he is."

There it was again. That clipped tone. The snide edge.

“Funny. You made more of an effort hiding your frustration earlier when I was laughing at his jokes.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at her.

Her eyes narrowed. “You know, if you’ve got something to say, you could just say it. Instead of sulking and being passive-aggressive about a guy who—surprise—was literally just talking to me.”

“I’m not sulkin'.”

She scoffed. “You’re definitely sulking. You’ve been avoiding me since the second I walked out of class.”

Atsumu’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue—but then he just sighed and ran a brisk hand through his hair.

“Listen, ’m not in the mood.” He finally turned to her, giving a look that landed somewhere between warning and weariness. “I’m gonna head up. Long day.”

“Nope,” she said, stepping aside to block his path, her expression sharp. “You don’t get to pull the moody card and ghost the conversation.”

Atsumu’s brow twitched. “What conversation?”

(Y/n)’s gaze didn’t waver. “The one where you admit you were jealous and being kind of an ass about it.”

His jaw ticked.

And for a second, neither of them moved.

The air thickened.

His voice dropped into a velvet-coated jab. “Cocky little thing.”

Before she could retort, he leaned in. Just enough to make it infuriating. His breath brushed her skin. His eyes darkened.

“If it’s eatin’ at ya so much,” he murmured, voice curling into a sneer, “why don’tcha vent to Tetsu about it?”

He didn’t bother hiding the distaste. The name rolled off his tongue like a slur.

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue—but he was already brushing past her, his shoulder bumping hers with just enough force to make it feel deliberate.

Prick.

“See ya tomorrow,” he muttered.

And just like that, he was gone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Morning sunlight filtered through the slats of the kitchen blinds, catching dust in its beams and painting the floor in pale, hazy stripes. The house was unusually quiet for this hour. No footsteps. No clatter of cutlery. No muffled Osamu humming through breakfast prep. Just the low, humming quiet of a place still steeped in sleep—or maybe something heavier.

(Y/n) stepped into the kitchen barefoot, hair tied back messily, a faded hoodie swallowing her frame. Her footsteps were soft against the tile, the kind that came from habit, not caution. But even still, she paused at the threshold.

He was already there.

Atsumu stood by the counter, hunched slightly, shirt wrinkled, cradling a mug in both hands. He wasn’t doing anything—just staring into the steam, eyes distant, jaw slack. Whatever expression had hardened on his face overnight hadn’t softened with sleep.

She lingered by the doorway a beat too long.

He didn’t look up.

(Y/n)’s chest pulled tight, something quiet but sharp blooming in the space between her ribs. This wasn’t new—Atsumu avoiding eye contact when he was pissed. What was new was the ache behind it. The fact that she’d stopped knowing what version of him she was going to get.

Still, she moved toward the kettle, reaching over to grab a mug. Her arm brushed his.

He stepped away like he hadn’t noticed her at all.

Right.

Of course.

She inhaled slowly through her nose, counting the seconds it took for the kettle to boil, willing herself to stay grounded. Calm. Collected. Not bothered.

But the silence scraped at her like sandpaper.

"So we're doing this, then?" she asked quietly. No heat. No sharpness. Just a weary tilt of her voice.

Atsumu didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

She turned slightly, just enough to see the angle of his profile. His eyes were downcast. Still wrapped in thought, or maybe just pretending to be.

“I said one thing. One,” she murmured. “And you made it a whole thing.”

That got him. She saw the twitch in his jaw.

But again—no answer.

Her hand tightened around her mug. She could feel the ache of it now. Not just his silence—but the effort it took to pretend she didn’t care. To match his pettiness stride for stride.

“Tetsu texted me again last night,” she added, deliberately casual.

Nothing.

She let that hang between them. Like bait. Like a challenge.

He sipped his coffee. Still didn’t meet her eyes.

Coward.

Her voice was quieter this time. Flat. “You didn’t say goodnight.”

He set the mug down a little too hard, the ceramic clink echoing through the quiet kitchen.

And then, like a final blow, he turned and left.

Didn’t speak. Didn’t glance back. Just walked out, hoodie sleeves bunched at his wrists, footsteps heavy and retreating.

She stood there, heart stinging, tea forgotten.

Some fights had shouting. Some had tears.

This one had silence.

And silence, she was starting to realize, hurt a whole lot more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Movie night wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

The living room was warm, lights low, a blanket tossed over the back of the couch, a half-finished puzzle pushed to one corner of the coffee table. Everything looked normal—comfortable, even. But (y/n) could feel the tension in the room like static. It clung to the air, heavy and unspoken.

She sat curled into the armrest, legs tucked beneath her, a cushion hugged to her chest. Across from her, Atsumu slouched in his usual spot—hood pulled up, expression neutral, thumbs idly tapping the rim of a water bottle like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to drink it or launch it across the room.

Osamu handed her the popcorn with a soft, “Here,” like he was passing a truce flag.

“Thanks,” she murmured, barely glancing at him.

The movie played on, some half-hearted action film Suna had picked. It barely held anyone’s attention. He was slumped low in his armchair, feet on the ottoman, phone balanced on his thigh, thumb flicking lazily through some feed even as the screen ahead flashed and boomed.

Halfway through a loud car chase scene, her phone buzzed quietly in her lap.

Rin: y’all break up or sth?

(Y/n) stared at the message for a second, then glanced at him. He didn’t look up. Didn’t even blink. Just kept scrolling.

She rolled her eyes and typed back.

You: we’d have to be dating for that.

A second passed.

Rin: mhm coulda fooled me

She let her phone drop to the couch cushion beside her, face down.

Still, Atsumu hadn’t said a word.

Not to her. Not since last night.

Every word was filtered through Osamu or aimed at Suna. She could’ve been a coat rack for all he acknowledged her presence. Like she’d been demoted to background noise.

The thing that grated wasn’t the distance—it was the performance. The calculated effort to pretend everything was fine, that they were fine. Like he hadn’t iced her out in the kitchen the evening he picked her up from Uni. Like he hadn’t dropped that little dagger of a line and walked away without looking back.

She glanced at him.

He was still staring straight ahead. Jaw tight. Fingers twitching.

“Had coffee with Tetsu today,” she said suddenly, voice light.

The silence that followed was immediate. Dense.

Suna’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Osamu shifted in his seat.

Still, Atsumu said nothing.

Not even a glance.

Look at me.

“He read me one of his new pieces,” she continued, picking a kernel of popcorn, twirling it between her fingers. “He’s been working on this stream-of-consciousness thing. It's nice. Really vulnerable.”

Osamu cleared his throat. “Huh. Sounds... poetic.”

“Mhm.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I told him it reminded me of Atsumu, actually.”

A breath hitched across the room. Quiet, but she caught it.

Still, he didn’t bite.

Instead, he stood. Abruptly. Walked to the kitchen under the guise of grabbing a drink. A drawer opened. Closed. Too loud. A bottle cap clinked against the counter.

(Y/n) let out a soft breath and sagged slightly into the couch.

Suna didn’t look up. “You’re really gonna keep poking him like that?”

“I’m not poking,” she replied. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

She turned her gaze to the glowing TV screen, unreadable. “For him to grow up.”

The words left her mouth cooler than she meant them to. She hadn’t planned to say them. Hadn’t even realized she felt them until they were out in the air between them, heavy and uninvited.

Suna didn’t reply right away. Just glanced sideways, his expression unreadable in the TV’s flickering light. Then, without a word, he leaned forward, grabbed a handful of popcorn, and sat back like he hadn’t just witnessed a relationship quietly unraveling beside him.

(Y/n) pulled the blanket a little tighter around her legs. Onscreen, someone was shouting. Something exploded. The room stayed quiet.

Atsumu never came back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Atsumu hadn’t planned on going to the library.

He hated the place. Too quiet. Too cold. Too many rules and not enough snacks. If hell had a waiting room, he was convinced it looked like this—rows of dusty books, stiff-backed chairs, and the constant, smug silence of people who actually enjoyed being there.

But his apartment was too loud, the team lounge was full of idiots, and his brain wouldn’t shut up long enough to let him nap. So here he was. At rock bottom. In the library. With a textbook under one arm and a pen he already wanted to snap in half.

It was fine. He’d find a table. He’d get his notes done. He’d move on.

Until the universe—as always—decided to make a complete joke out of him.

Of course the library was packed. Midterms or whatever. Every table was full. Every chair taken. Except—

His stomach sank the moment he saw her.

(Y/n). Back turned, head tilted just enough to catch the soft edge of her profile. Sitting across from none other than Tetsu Fucking Poetry Boy.

Atsumu stopped walking. Just for a second. Just long enough to internally scream.

And then, like fate had a sick sense of humor, he spotted the only available seat in the entire damn room—tucked in the far corner, across from a broken heater, a table that was just far enough to be forgotten but just close enough to give him a perfect, unobstructed view of her and her stupid, flowery friend.

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.

He dropped his stuff on the table with more force than necessary and sat down with a grunt that earned him a glare from the girl at the next table. Whatever. He didn’t care. He opened his book, flipped to a random page, and tried to focus.

He really did.

But the thing about libraries? Quiet meant every little sound stood out.

Every scrape of a chair. Every soft murmur. Every laugh.

Especially her laugh.

That gentle little breath of sound—the one she tried to hold back when she found something really funny. Like now. Apparently Tetsu had cracked some hilarious observation about metaphors or whatever the hell he wrote about.

Atsumu’s jaw clenched. His pen hovered uselessly over his notebook. He hadn’t written a single word. He could feel his pulse in his temple.

Another laugh.

A quiet, almost bashful, “You’re so dumb,” from (y/n), and then a hushed giggle that sliced right through him.

His grip tightened around his pen. He didn’t even realize how hard until his knuckles ached.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Of all the places, of all the tables, of all the goddamn days—

A shadow passed over his table. Then another.

“Ya look like yer about to shit yerself,” Osamu said, rounding the table.

Suna followed, dropping his bag with a dramatic sigh. “Aw, did we miss the meltdown?”

Their arrival was both a curse and a lifeline.

Atsumu didn’t answer right away. He just shoved his notebook away with a quiet swoosh and dropped his pen like a man resigned.

“Didn’t realize this was a group project,” he muttered.

Osamu and Suna dragged their chairs in unison, the legs scraping against the floor loud enough to draw a look from a girl at the next table.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Atsumu asked, narrowing his eyes at Osamu. “You bored or somethin'?”

“Speak for yourself,” Suna added. “You haven’t voluntarily stepped foot in a library since high school.”

“What can I say?” Osamu shrugged and pulled a battered notebook from his bag, slapping it onto the table. Loose pages fluttered out across the wood like confetti. “Finals got me in a chokehold.”

The paper rustling stirred the girl next to them again—her eyes already narrowed over the rim of her glasses like she’d been waiting for an excuse to hate them.

Suna turned in his chair, met her gaze dead-on, and jerked his chin like he was silently asking, something wrong?

She didn’t dignify him with a response. Just rolled her eyes, gathered her books, and stormed off with the fury of someone who’d only gotten four hours of sleep and took that very personally.

“Charmin’ girl,” Osamu muttered, flipping a page.

Atsumu sniggered and stretched, arms overhead as his joints cracked audibly—like he’d been buried in his notes for hours when in reality... He glanced down at the desk. His notebook lay open in front of him, still blank. A glaring reminder of his unproductivity.

“What about you?” Osamu asked, already digging out a sandwich from his bag like this was a picnic. “You studyin’ or tryna chat-up some cute bookworm?”

Suna reached for the half-empty pack of jelly sticks peeking out of Osamu’s bag, his movements obnoxiously smooth. “Aw, 'Samu, you shouldn’t have.”

Osamu shot him a withering glare.

Atsumu huffed a dry laugh, arms folded on the table as he angled his head downward. “I wish.”

He flicked lazily through his notes, nose wrinkling like the very act disgusted him. “‘M here for the same reason you are.”

Then, under his breath—eyes drifting toward that one table in the distance—

“’Least that was the plan.”

Neither of them missed the shift in his tone.

They didn’t say anything at first. Just exchanged a quiet look as they started unpacking their own notes.

Then, like clockwork, Suna leaned to the side, following Atsumu's line of sight. He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Oh,” he said. Just that. One syllable, dragged through understanding.

Osamu followed his gaze. “Seriously?”

Atsumu didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

“Yer pathetic,” Osamu said flatly, peeling the crust off his sandwich before plopping it into his mouth.

Atsumu gave him a glare that could’ve soured milk.

“Were ya spyin’ on her?” He asked between mouthfuls.

“Fuck no,” he hissed. Neither seemed convinced. “I ain't lyin’! You think I’d willingly set foot into this dweeb cesspool just to spy on ‘er?”

The duo exchanged a long, knowing look.

Atsumu clicked his tongue, agitated. “I ain't,” he repeated, more defensive. “They just happened to be here. I walked in and bam—there they were. Right in my face.”

“You could’ve walked out,” Suna offered, shrugging as he bit into a jelly stick.

Atsumu scoffed, mildly offended. “Yeah, right—and what would that make me?”

“A whiny little bitch."

Atsumu lunged for him on instinct, arm swiping across the table. Suna jerked back, grinning around the purple jelly stick.

"Leave 'em be," Osamu said coolly, reading over his notes. He didn’t even glance toward them—didn’t need to. Clearly didn’t see the appeal, unlike the other two. "They're only talkin'."

“She’s gigglin',” Atsumu hissed, barely above a whisper. “Ya don’t giggle at someone unless they’re funny. Or cute. Or both.”

“God forbid someone be funny," Suna drawled, rocking lazily on the back two legs of his chair, still sucking on that goddamn jelly stick. Atsumu resisted the urge to rip it out of his mouth.

“His jokes suck.”

“How would you know? You been on a date with Tetsu as well?"

Atsumu sneered at the word.

Date. Yeah, right. Who takes someone to the library for a first date?

But what if it wasn’t the first?

What if there had already been others?

How many others?

Atsumu swallowed hard and shoved the thought deep into the back of his skull. Clicked his tongue again.

“I don’t need to. Just look at him. He's a poetry major. I can smell his bottom shelf vanilla body spray from here.”

Suna snorted despite himself.

Osamu pressed a knuckle to his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Atsumu slumped further into his chair, eyes on his shut notebook, expression tight.

Then Osamu’s voice broke the moment. Low. Blunt. But not unkind, a rare flicker of seriousness settling between his words.

“You do realize this is yer fault, right?”

Atsumu didn’t reply.

Didn’t look up.

Didn’t need to.

He knew.

God, he knew.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

A beat passed. Long enough for it to feel like a decision.

Then Suna leaned forward, propping his chin on his palm. “Y'know, there’s this thing you can do when you like someone…”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes. “What.”

“It’s wild,” Suna said, deadpan. “Really cutting-edge.”

Osamu glanced up from his notes, barely containing his grin.

“You just… tell them,” Suna finished.

Atsumu scoffed. “Yeah? And say what, exactly?”

“Dunno.” Suna slurped the last of his jelly stick. “That's something for the both of you to figure out."

Osamu hummed, nodding with what one might consider mild interest. “Ya wouldn’t be in this mess if ya just talked to 'er."

“I do talk to 'er.”

“Right,” Osamu drawled. “I mean properly. None of yer passive-aggressive bullshit.”

Atsumu let out a sharp breath through his nose. “She’s the one who’s all over that fuckin’ guy.”

“So what if she laughs at a few of his jokes?” Suna replied. “You sound like a 14-year-old.”

Atsumu scowled, shoulders squaring as he leaned back in his chair. “Ya don’t get it. I’ve never seen her giggle like that before. Not even with me or—” he gestured toward Suna, a flicker of emotion sneaking in. “Even him. Her childhood bestie or whatever.”

Suna’s brows lifted—not quite a challenge, but close.

Or maybe that was just how Atsumu chose to take it.

“She does,” Suna said evenly. “You’ve just never been around to hear it. (Y/n)’s a pretty giggly person by nature.”

Atsumu tried not to let his irritation show.

Tetsu was the problem right now. Tetsu.

Osamu leaned forward to grab a highlighter, casually creating a barrier between the two. “Y’know, if yer this insufferable when yer not datin' her, I’m terrified to see what happens when ya are.”

“Shut up, 'Samu. No one asked."

"I'm serious. Yer lack of communication is astoundin'."

“Plus she doesn’t owe you anything,” Suna added, smooth as ever.

Atsumu’s jaw tightened.

Right. Because they weren’t dating.

Just like Osamu had conveniently pointed out.

He already saw where this was going, and he hated it.

If they were about to lecture him on feelings and intentions and his goddamn love life, he was out.

It was none of their business. Whatever he felt for (y/n)—vague as it was, loud as it got—it didn’t concern them.

Feelings were messy. Conversations were messier.

And if there was one thing Atsumu had learned about liking someone, it was this:

You either commit, or you run.

And he’d never been good at choosing.

Not when it came to this.

Love.

"Relax." Osamu's voice sliced through Atsumu's thoughts like a knife through hot butter. “We’re not here to lecture ya. All we’re sayin’ is—talkin’s an option. You know (y/n). She’ll listen. In fact 'm sure she'd be more than happy to discuss with ya."

"She's always been the more vocal type," Suna added, shrugging calmly.

“Yer clearly bothered by the idea of them datin',” Osamu said. “So ask 'er about it.”

“'M not bothered.”

Osamu and Suna gave him the exact same look. Flat. Devoid of humour.

Atsumu cringed.

Okay. Whatever. Point taken.

So maybe he was a little peeved.

How could he not be?

The guy wore v-necks and chinos—chinos! (Y/n) could do better. She should do better.

Atsumu slumped lower into his seat.

Then, quieter. More careful:

“...I just hate how easy it looks.”

Osamu looked up. Suna’s chair landed back on all four feet.

“With him,” Atsumu added, not quite meeting their eyes. “Like... he don’t gotta try.”

That sobered them just a little.

But only a little.

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Osamu said.

Atsumu looked up, brows furrowing—almost like that stung more than he expected. Like he was trying to figure out if Osamu meant it as an insult.

“But you do,” Osamu added, voice steady. Clarifying. Grounding.

Suna nodded. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

Atsumu didn’t say anything. Just glanced across the library again—at (y/n) and Tetsu, still talking, still laughing like no one was watching.

Then she looked up.

Caught his stare.

Even from this far, he could’ve sworn her eyes widened—surprise, confusion, maybe even guilt. He didn’t know.

Didn’t want to.

He sucked in a breath through his nose, heart jumping in a way he blamed on being startled.

He hadn’t meant to get her attention.

Still, as he toyed with his pen between his fingers, his friends’ words lingered.

Talking to (y/n)...

God.

Where would he even start?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

(Y/n) hadn’t even looked up when the door to the library opened. She didn’t need to—her back was already straightening at the sound of three sets of footsteps, too loud, too confident, and far too familiar.

She glanced up. And there they were.

Atsumu. Osamu. Suna.

She blinked, stunned for half a second—not at the sight of them, but at the sheer audacity.

What the hell were they doing here?

No, seriously—what were they doing here?

The library, with its creaky chairs and strict “no snacking” policy, was sacred. Quiet. Orderly. Full of mild-mannered English majors and caffeine-fuelled med students. Not... jocks. Not six-footers in hoodies and joggers who made every chair they touched squeak like a scream.

She stared for a moment longer. They looked so out of place it almost made her laugh. But the amusement quickly gave way to something tighter. Something warmer.

Annoyance.

Surely—surely—this wasn’t on purpose. Atsumu couldn’t have known she was here. There was no way he’d actually come all the way to the library just to eavesdrop.

Osamu wouldn’t let him do that. Suna definitely wouldn’t.

…Right?

She must’ve looked as annoyed as she felt because Tetsu lightly tapped her arm, pulling her attention back.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

She blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”

Tetsu smiled politely, but his gaze flicked to where she’d been staring. His expression didn’t change, but something in it cooled.

(Y/n) tried to focus again, nodding along as Tetsu talked through the reading. She picked at the cuff of her hoodie absently, resisting the urge to glance over.

She managed to concentrate for a few minutes.

...Until a soft thunk drew her attention again.

She looked.

Atsumu had tossed a pencil at Osamu. Osamu had dodged. And the girl behind them—bless her—had taken it square to the forehead.

The sharp What the hell?! that followed echoed through the library.

(Y/n) slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh.

The poor girl stood, flushed and furious. A heated whisper-argument broke out, heads turned, and thirty seconds later, the librarian was shooing the trio toward the exit.

She caught Atsumu’s eye right before he disappeared behind the shelves. His expression unreadable. She didn’t bother trying.

Tetsu turned back to her, one brow raised. “They're your friends, right?” A pause. Then he sucked in a breath—almost like a wince.

(Y/n) caught it. Just a flicker.

But she blinked it away. Maybe she was reading too much into it.

“They sure are lively,” he added, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She exhaled through her nose—half sigh, half laugh. “That’s one way to describe them.”

Tetsu nodded slowly, like he was trying to piece something together. “The blonde one… Asumo, right?”

Her jaw tensed.

“Atsumu,” she corrected, almost automatically. For some reason, the mispronunciation irked her more than it should’ve.

“Right,” Tetsu said, still smiling. “He your boyfriend?”

She spluttered. “What—no.” A scoff, her hand waving the idea away like smoke. “God, no.”

Then, after a beat—because she was curious. Because she couldn’t help herself—

“What makes you think that?”

Tetsu gave a small shrug. "He seemed... irritated the other day. I figured it was about the nickname.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think he was mad because that’s what he usually calls me.”

Tetsu arched a perfectly groomed brow, his tone dipping into something almost… accusing. “He calls you sweetheart?”

(Y/n) blinked once. “Yeah— all the time. But it's not romantic."

She said it like it was obvious. Like it meant nothing.

Because, in Atsumu’s world, it didn’t.

In fact, he called her plenty of nicknames, each one as flowery as the next. That’s just who he was: a flirt. Loud, casual, effortless, charming. He’d say it to anyone. Probably had.

She just happened to be around the most.

She lived with him, after all. So yeah—perfectly normal. Completely harmless.

Still, Tetsu didn’t look convinced. His jaw had tightened slightly, mouth flattening into something too neutral.

“Sure,” he said. “Whatever you say, (y/n).”

The use of her name—so pointed, so deliberate—made something in her clench. She didn’t like the tone. Didn’t like the implication. Didn’t like having to read between the lines again.

She was tired of that. Tired of guessing how someone felt. Tired of almosts and maybes and weird, strained silences.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like reading poetry anymore.

She grabbed her bag, slinging it over one shoulder as she stood. “I think I’m gonna head home,” she said, forcing a smile. “Not sure I can take another stanza about tragic lovers and unspoken longing.”

Tetsu blinked, glancing up at her. “Oh. You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve hit my limit for symbolism today.”

He nodded, but his eyes followed her a little too long as she turned to leave.

And as she walked toward the exit, her phone buzzed.

She swiped it open.

Rin: did you see us get kicked out the library lol

(Y/n) huffed a laugh, thumbs already moving.

You: unfortunately yes 🙄 what the hell were you all doing there anyway??

The response came fast. Typical.

Rin: studying. obviously. ‘samu brought snacks. got us kicked out.

You: sure. snacks. i’m sure that’s all it was. pretty sure i saw a pencil fly across the room

Rin: lol that was atsumu but the snacks played a part the librarian confiscated them can you believe that

You: the audacity

Rin: ikr

She smiled a little. Just a flicker. But it faded as quickly as it came.

A beat passed before the next message popped up.

Rin: you alright?

She stared at the screen for a second. Then typed, slowly.

You: not really.

Another pause. Then:

Rin: wanna talk about it?

You: yeah. if that’s okay.

Rin: where are you?

You: heading home. passing near the park.

Rin: omw

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The park hadn’t changed much.

Same creaky swings. Same chipped blue paint. Same patch of wildflowers that looked like they’d been planted by accident. The sandbox was mostly abandoned, save for a single forgotten shovel sticking out like a gravestone. A breeze swept through the trees, rustling the leaves like a lazy hush.

It was quieter now—most of the kids had gone home, and the sun had dipped low enough to cast everything in a soft, hazy gold. The kind of light that made you want to stay still a little longer. The kind that made memories feel like they could sneak up on you.

(Y/n) curled her fingers around the cool metal chains of the swing, trainers skimming slow figure-eights in the dust.

Across from her, Suna was perched on the monkey bars like he had been since they were kids—legs slung over one bar, back leaning against another, phone held lazily in one hand. The golden light filtered through the trees, catching in his lashes, painting half his face in sun and shadow.

“Trying to get a good shot?” she asked, voice light.

“Mm,” he hummed. “Sun’s cooperating for once.”

She watched him adjust the brightness, zoom in, tilt slightly left. His thumb hovered over the screen longer than necessary—like he was waiting for the exact second everything clicked into place.

Then, quietly—“Did Atsumu say anything?”

He didn’t look up. Just tapped the screen one more time. “About you?”

She scuffed her shoe in the dirt. “Uh-huh.”

Once satisfied with the photo, Suna hopped down in that unbothered, fluid way of his and wandered over. The swing beside hers groaned as he dropped into it, long legs stretching out, tucking his phone into his hoodie pocket.

“Yeah. We spoke briefly. But before you ask, I’m not telling you what he said.”

She turned toward him, brows furrowed. “Why not?”

He shrugged, watching the wind tangle a leaf mid-air. “S’not my place.”

“But I tried talking to him,” she muttered, frustrated. “He just brushed me off. Couldn't get a word out of him. It's annoying. I know he's jealous—he doesn’t exactly try to hide it. But then he ignores me. Or shuts me out. I don’t know what he wants from me.”

Suna didn’t answer right away. Just sat quietly, rocking a little, watching a squirrel skitter across the gravel.

It was always like this with him. He never rushed to respond. Letting her words hang in the air like low-hanging fog. The silence between them wasn’t heavy—it never was with Suna. Just thoughtful. He let moments breathe. Let the thoughts come in their own time.

She heard the gentle jingle of his chains as he shifted. Then came his voice, soft and even.

“Just give him time. Like I said, we talked. It wasn’t much, but… he came forward in the end. I think he’s thinking about it just as much as you are.”

She didn’t respond right away. Her gaze followed the light bleeding through the treetops, catching flecks of dust in the air like glitter.

“Really?” she asked eventually, more hopeful. “You actually think so?”

Suna nodded slowly. “Mhm. Just be patient with him. You know what he’s like—he hasn’t got it all figured out yet.”

(Y/n) let out a dry laugh. “That sure is a nice way of phrasing it.”

He huffed, something that could’ve been a laugh of his own. Then, for the first time, he turned to look at her. His smirk was soft. Teasing. Familiar.

“What are you two like, eh?”

She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave her a flat look. Raised a brow. Said nothing.

When she didn’t drop it, he finally leaned back against the swing, arms resting on the chains, eyes skyward.

“You and Atsumu. Always dancing around each other. When are you gonna fess up?”

“There’s nothing to fess up,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Her voice went quiet. “I don’t know.”

Suna didn’t press. He just… stayed. Listened.

And so, she kept talking.

“It’s hard to tell with Atsumu. Some days it’s like he’s pulling me in, and other days it’s like I don’t exist. I try not to let it get to me, but... it does. It makes me feel stupid. Like I’m chasing something that’s only real in my head.”

The words fell out easier than she’d expected. She didn’t usually say things like that. Not even to herself.

Suna was quiet for a while. He didn’t look at her. Just let the chains creak beneath him as he rocked gently back and forth.

Then—just once—he glanced her way.

Something flickered in his eyes. The kind of look you only catch if you’re really paying attention. And she was. But it was gone just as quickly.

He leaned back again, legs stretching farther. “You’re not stupid.”

She breathed out slowly. “Thanks.”

Another silence passed, this one lighter.

“I’ll wait,” she said after a while. “Like you said. I’ll be patient. I just…” she shifted her grip on the chains, “I hope he doesn’t take too long. The house feels weird lately.”

Suna nodded once. “He’ll come around.”

“You sure?”

“No,” he said, smirking slightly. “But it sounds better than ‘maybe.’”

She laughed. That soft, airy kind—the kind you don’t even realize you’ve been holding in.

The sun dropped lower, casting the swings in long shadows. The wind stirred the trees. In the distance, a dog barked. Somewhere nearby, wind chimes tinkled lazily.

They didn’t talk much after that—just sat there, rocking slowly, watching the sky turn honey and then violet.

No drama. No tension. Just quiet company.

And for a while, that was enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Which was stupid, really—because most days he’d kill for some peace. But now, with the sun low and bleeding orange through the living room blinds, all that quiet did was piss him off.

He paced.

Not on purpose. Not even consciously. Just… back and forth, socked feet dragging along the scuffed wooden floor. One hand tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, the other stuffed deep into his pocket, pulling the fabric down like it might ground him.

Where the hell were they?

He didn’t need to ask. He knew.

(Y/n) and Suna were out. Probably talking. Probably somewhere breezy and warm and not here, while Atsumu stewed in a thick, molasses-flavoured mix of annoyance, regret, and something else he refused to name.

He paused by the window. Squinted.

Still no sign of them.

“Quit pacin'. Yer gonna wear a hole in the floor,” Osamu said from the couch, voice lazy. Barely looked up from his phone.

“‘M not pacin',” Atsumu snapped.

“You are.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be if someone—” he cut himself off, jaw tight.

Osamu just looked at him. That stony expression that always made Atsumu feel like a ten-year-old throwing a tantrum. He turned away before his brother could say something actually annoying.

He hated this. The waiting. The guessing. The not knowing where she was or what she was thinking. Who she was laughing with. What she was saying.

He’d seen the text on Suna's phone. Hadn’t read it—just saw the preview flash up on the lock screen. A little part of him itched to unlock it. To see if maybe they had said something about him.

It didn’t.

And even if it did, what then?

Was he gonna scroll through their conversation like some jealous ex-boyfriend?

He wasn’t even her boyfriend.

God.

Atsumu scrubbed a hand over his face and slumped onto the edge of the couch, elbows to knees, head in his hands. The silence buzzed louder now, filling all the cracks in the room that she usually softened.

He missed her voice. Her laugh. The way she always had a mug in her hand, never drank from it, just carried it around like a comfort object. He missed her random shower thoughts. The way she kicked her feet sometimes when she was on her phone, unabashed when an edit of her favourite character came up on her 'for you' page. The sound of her bedroom door creaking.

He missed her.

And it was ridiculous. Because she wasn’t gone. She was just… elsewhere. With Suna.

And Suna got her. Always had.

That part didn’t usually bother Atsumu—except now it did.

Now, it bothered the hell out of him.

She’d gone to him, hadn’t she? When everything got awkward. When Atsumu had snapped at her in the kitchen. She’d walked away, and she’d gone straight to someone else. Which, fine. That was fair. That was her right.

But it still stung.

Atsumu sank into the couch, tilted his head back and let out a slow exhale, like maybe if he breathed deep enough he could push the weight off his chest.

“She’s not mad at ya,” Osamu said, out of nowhere.

Atsumu blinked. “Did I ask?”

“No,” Osamu replied, cool as anything. “But yer face is loud.”

Atsumu muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothin'.”

They sat in the golden hush of almost-evening. The kitchen clock ticked in the distance, the kind of mundane background noise that felt cruelly loud when you were going insane inside your own head.

“I don’t get it,” Atsumu muttered, half to himself. “She knows ’m jealous. So why won’t she just… say somethin'?”

He hated saying it. Jealous. But Osamu knew better than anyone, was privy to all the ugly feelings that stirred inside his brother's heart. He'd perhaps be the only person Atsumu would ever admit them to.

Osamu didn’t look up from his phone. Just hummed low in his throat and replied, “Say what?”

Atsumu opened his mouth.

Closed it.

What did he want her to say?

That she noticed? That she cared? That she liked him back?

His mouth twisted. “I dunno,” he said lamely. “Somethin’. Anythin’.”

Osamu finally set his phone down, the click of it hitting the table louder than necessary.

“Were ya expectin’ her to apologise?”

Atsumu bristled. “No. I—no.”

“What, then?”

He didn’t answer.

Not right away.

Because the truth was—yeah. Kinda.

Not an apology, exactly. But some kind of… recognition. Like maybe she’d look at him and say I see you. I get it. I feel it too.

And maybe that made him a jerk.

But still.

Still.

“I don’t know,” Atsumu said again, voice sharp now. Frustration gnawing at him like a bloodhound. “I don’t know, okay? I just—"

He cursed under his breath. Pushed his back off the couch again. His head dropped low.

Osamu watched him quietly for a moment before sighing. “Maybe she’s tired of bein’ the only one who says stuff.”

Atsumu didn't raise his head, just glanced at his twin. “Huh?”

“She always meets you halfway,” Osamu said. “Always puts in the effort. Maybe she’s waitin’ to see if you’ll do the same.”

Atsumu went quiet.

Because deep down, he knew Osamu was right.

He never said it first. Not when it mattered. Always wrapped it up in jokes, or flirty one-liners, or fake indifference. Anything but real words. Anything but actual feelings.

Because actual feelings?

Those meant vulnerability.

Those meant risk.

And he wasn’t ready for that.

...Was he?

His eyes drifted to the front door again. Wondering if she’d walk through it. Wondering if she’d look at him. Wondering if he’d know what to say when she did.

He didn’t.

But maybe… maybe he wanted to try.

He ran a hand through his hair, mumbled into the room, “Think I messed up.”

Osamu didn’t gloat. Didn’t tease. Just leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“Then fix it.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The front door creaked open with a push of her palm, the familiar groan of the hinges dragging out into the quiet apartment.

She stepped inside, soft-footed, like her presence might echo.

Suna followed behind, wordless as always, slipping his shoes off with that same lazy, practiced ease. For a second, they just stood there in the entryway, the stillness stretching around them like plastic wrap—tight, uncomfortable.

The hallway smelled like soy sauce and garlic. Osamu was cooking.

(Y/n) didn’t hear music though, which was strange. The kitchen was never silent when he cooked. No playlist humming through a speaker. No news show playing in the background. Just the hiss of something on the stovetop, the low clatter of utensils. And—

A sound.

The couch creaked.

She didn’t look.

She knew.

Instead, she toed off her shoes and offered a quiet “thanks” to Suna, who gave a non-committal nod and wandered off in the direction of his room, phone already out. Her own fingers curled slightly at her sides. Her palms felt hot. She wasn’t sure why.

Or—no. That was a lie.

She knew exactly why.

He was here.

And she could feel it.

Feel him.

Even without looking, she knew he was sprawled across the couch like always. She could practically hear the way he was pretending not to notice her. The quiet shuffle. The strained stillness.

God.

Why did it feel so different?

Why did the air feel so heavy?

(Y/n) cleared her throat and headed for the kitchen, willing her steps to stay even.

Osamu stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan. His eyes flicked toward her, brief but not unkind.

“You eat yet?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Wasn’t hungry earlier.”

He nodded once, like he understood. “It’ll be ready in ten.”

“Thanks.”

The silence was less awkward here, but still not comfortable. Not really. Osamu, ever the unbothered one, didn’t push. Just continued cooking with the same practiced calm he always carried.

(Y/n) lingered near the fridge, fingers tapping idly against the handle. She wasn’t thirsty. She just needed something to do.

“So,” Osamu said after a pause, “how'd the date go?”

She turned sharply, blinking. Oddly enough, she couldn't tell who he was referring to. Her study session with Tetsu, or her impromptu outing with Suna.

Not that it mattered. She knew what he was trying to do.

His face was neutral—but his eyes were teasing. And that said enough.

She clicked her tongue, but it was anything but hostile, if not a bit thankful. “Zip it, you."

A soft chuckle. “Just tryna ease the tension."

She huffed, but it soothed something in her chest.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the faintest movement—just a shift of a leg over the side of the couch, the tiniest rustle of fabric. Her throat tightened.

Still, she didn’t look at him.

Didn’t give him the satisfaction.

Didn’t trust herself to, anyway.

Osamu slid the pan off the burner and lowered the heat. “He was a pain while you were gone.”

She didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

They both knew who he meant.

She glanced toward the stairs. Her room upstairs. Her retreat. Her escape.

“Alright,” she murmured. “I think I’m gonna go—”

“Wait,” came a voice behind her.

Not loud.

Not urgent.

Just there.

Like it had been waiting.

(Y/n) froze. Turned her head slightly. Atsumu stood halfway off the couch, one hand gripping the back of it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the room.

His eyes met hers—and dropped just as fast.

The silence that followed was jagged.

“Are you—” he started. Then stopped. His mouth opened again, but no sound came out. His shoulders sagged the tiniest bit, like whatever fight he’d worked up had drained out of him the second he saw her.

She tilted her head.

Waited.

But he said nothing.

Just sank back onto the couch with a muttered, “Never mind.”

Osamu didn’t hide the sigh that escaped his chest.

Suna, reappearing at the hallway edge with a protein bar half-unwrapped, squinted at them all like he'd walked in on an unfinished scene.

Nobody said a word, letting the awkwardness hang in the air.

Osamu was the first to break it.

He scratched the back of his head. “Honestly.”

(Y/n) didn’t look back to the couch.

Didn’t stay, either.

She turned and climbed the stairs.

Every step heavier than the last.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He didn’t move at first.

Not when she turned.

Not when she climbed the stairs.

Not even when her door clicked softly shut—quiet, polite, final.

He just sat there.

Still.

Sprawled across the couch like dead weight, eyes fixed on the ceiling as the last sliver of sunlight bled out through the windows.

For a second, he thought he might actually fall asleep.

But that would’ve required peace. And tonight, peace was in short supply.

He groaned—loud, frustrated, full-bodied—and dragged both hands down his face until his cheeks burned.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, to no one in particular.

Then he pushed himself up, stomped toward the stairs loud enough to draw attention, and slammed his bedroom door a little too hard.

The room was dim. Warm gold edged the corners of his blinds, spilling faint strips of light across his desk. It painted soft shadows on the wall—shapes that didn’t matter. Nothing in here really mattered. It all felt too small. Too hot. Like he couldn’t stretch out without touching something that reminded him of her.

He sat on the edge of his bed.

Stared at the floor.

And then, slowly, like it might explode if he moved too fast, he reached for his phone.

The screen lit up with a dozen stupid notifications. Group chats. A calendar reminder for weights tomorrow. Osamu sending him a TikTok with a caption that just read: you. He ignored all of it.

Opened her name.

And stared.

Just stared.

The chat window was blank.

He hadn’t messaged her all day. Or the day before. Not since—

He swallowed. Didn’t finish the thought. He'd never gone this long without texting her.

He started typing.

hey.

Then:

sorry i’ve been weird.

Then:

i know ive been an ass lately. i didnt mean it. okay, maybe i did. but its not because of you. not really. i just

He stopped.

Read it back.

Scowled.

Deleted all of it with one angry thumb.

Started over.

you and tetsu a thing?

Deleted that too.

do you wanna talk?

Backspaced it, letter by letter, like each key was pressing into his brain.

He tossed the phone onto his comforter and flopped backwards onto his bed, arms flung wide like he might summon answers from the ceiling.

What the fuck was he supposed to say?

Sorry I got jealous because another guy called you sweetheart?

Sorry I don’t know how to be normal when it comes to you?

Sorry I think I like you but I don’t know how to say that without making it weird and fucking everything up?

He groaned again, dragging a pillow over his face.

He hated this. He hated feelings. Hated how they sat on his chest like bricks, heavy and unrelenting. Hated how they didn’t go away just because he ignored them.

And God, he’d tried to ignore them.

He really, really had.

He thought maybe if he flirted like usual, if he brushed it off with jokes, if he let it simmer beneath the surface without naming it—maybe it’d go away. Maybe it’d stay casual.

But it didn’t feel casual anymore.

Not when her smile was the first thing he looked for in a room.

Not when silence from her felt like punishment.

Not when the idea of her with someone else made his skin crawl.

He sat up again, dragging a hand through his hair.

This was ridiculous.

He was ridiculous.

He looked at the door. Then back at his phone. Then back at the door.

Then stood.

Walked to it.

Paused.

Stared at the handle like it was a detonator.

If he knocked, there was no going back. No pretending nothing was wrong. No more brushing it off. He’d have to face it. Face her. And maybe that scared him more than anything.

He sighed.

Then—

The door across the hall cracked open.

Light spilled into the hallway.

And there she was.

They both froze.

Two doors, two hearts pounding, one painfully timed coincidence.

Like idiots in a teen drama. Like deer caught in headlights. Like everything was about to change and neither of them knew what to do about it.

He hadn’t meant to see her.

She hadn’t meant to see him.

Yet here they were.

Atsumu’s hand was still on the doorknob. Her hand was still curled around the railing. The soft lighting from her room spilled out into the hall, warm and golden, catching the strands of her hair and painting her in a glow that made his breath stick in his throat.

Her eyes widened when she saw him. Not in shock. Not quite. More like… hesitation. Surprise layered with something he couldn’t name.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft.

“Hey,” he echoed, quiet. Tight.

His fingers slipped off the doorknob.

She stood straighter, but didn’t move. Didn’t leave. The silence between them clung like fog—thick, hesitant.

He looked tired.

She saw it in the slope of his shoulders, the set of his mouth, the pinch between his brows.

He looked at her like she might vanish.

She looked at him like she was bracing for impact.

“I was just…” he gestured vaguely toward the stairs, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Dunno. Nothin’. Forget it.”

She didn’t.

“Were you coming to talk to me?”

He hesitated.

Then—too slow to pass as casual—he nodded once.

“Oh.”

Her fingers tightened on the railing. He noticed.

There was that twitch in his jaw again. The same one from the other day. She could see him wrestling with himself.

“Can we…” he gestured toward her room. Then flinched. “I mean—only if yer okay with it.”

She nodded, wordless.

He followed her inside.

Her room smelled like her. Like strawberries and peony and something warm underneath—comforting, familiar, terrifying. He didn’t sit until she did. When she dropped onto the edge of her bed, he took the desk chair across from her, backwards, arms resting on the top like a makeshift shield.

They didn’t speak.

For a second, they just sat there.

Her eyes flitted to his face. She could tell he was thinking. Could feel the war in his head.

Say it, she wanted to tell him. Say what you came here to say.

He cleared his throat.

“I’ve been…”

He trailed off. Then tried again.

“I’ve been actin' like a dick.”

She blinked, caught off guard. Then, slowly—“Yeah. Kinda.”

He huffed something that might’ve been a laugh if it weren’t so self-deprecating.

“I didn’t mean to take it out on ya,” he said. “I just…” His hand opened, then closed. “I dunno. I get… weird. When I don’t know how to say shit.”

“Uh-huh. 'Weird' isn't exactly the word I'd choose."

He glanced up—saw the faint smile tugging at her mouth, despite everything. It made something loosen in his chest.

“It ain't about him,” Atsumu said quickly. “Well—okay. It is. But not like that. I'm not mad ‘cause ya talked to 'im. I'm mad because—fuck, this sounds so stupid.”

“Go on?"

He stared at the floor.

Then: “I didn’t like how easy it looked.”

She frowned. “What did?”

“You. With him. Laughin'. Like it wasn’t hard. Like it didn’t take effort.”

(Y/n) stayed quiet, watching, waiting...

He met her eyes again. “I don’t know how to be easy with you.”

The words landed.

Heavy. Honest.

Something in her throat tightened.

She needed to make sure...

She shifted slightly. Her legs crossed at the ankle. Her fingers knotted in her hoodie sleeve. “When you say ‘easy’, you’re not just talking about making me laugh… are you?”

Atsumu's gaze drifted to the floor again.

God, he hated this.

Hated the tightness in his chest. The erratic pulse hammering in his throat. The heat coiling beneath his skin like it was trying to crawl out through his pores.

He made her laugh all the time. That wasn’t the problem. He could make her wheeze, snort, cry real tears from laughter—he knew that. He relied on that.

But that wasn’t what he meant.

Not really.

Easy meant... simple. Uncomplicated. Clean.

Tetsu didn’t hesitate around her. He didn’t second guess every word, didn’t overanalyse every glance, didn’t wrestle with the sick twist in his gut when she smiled and it wasn’t at him.

Easy meant: no stakes.

No fear of ruining everything.

No trembling line between friendship and something else.

Whatever this was with (y/n), it wasn’t easy.

He was too aware of her. Of her presence. Of the way his heart did stupid shit when she touched his shoulder or said his name just a little too softly.

Feelings like this weren’t easy.

They were messy.

And loud.

And goddamn terrifying.

Saying that out loud took more nerve than he had in him tonight.

His eyes flicked up once, lingered on her for a second too long, then dropped again.

“No.”

More silence.

She could feel her pulse in her throat now. Her hands had gone cold.

He hadn’t said it—not outright—but she knew.

She always knew with him.

His silence said more than any overconfident one-liner ever could.

She breathed in through her nose, slow and measured. “You’re not supposed to try so hard,” she said at last. “If something bothers you, you just have to... talk to me. Like this. Like right now.”

“I didn’t know if I could.”

“Why not?”

He swallowed. “Because…”

Because I think I like you.

He couldn’t say it.

Not now.

Maybe in another universe. One where he didn’t fumble every good thing that landed in his lap. One where he didn’t ruin things before they ever had the chance to bloom.

Maybe then.

But not here. Not now.

Fear. Doubt. Pride.

They wrapped around his heart like a vice.

Whatever expression he was wearing must’ve given it away, because she tilted her head just slightly, and her voice came gentler.

“If now’s not the right time, then… don’t. I’d rather you didn’t say anything if that's the case. Just… don’t hide behind attitude. Don’t shut me out.”

And that—god—that did him in.

Because she was too kind.

Too patient.

Too good.

He didn’t deserve that softness. Not after everything. Not after the way he’d acted. Not just about Tetsu—about everything. Every time he made her doubt, every time he backed away. Every time he was too much of a coward to commit to anything more than... this.

She should be mad at him. She should be cutting him down with a few choice words and turning her back on him for good. She should be—

But she wasn’t.

She was still here.

Still looking at him like he was worth understanding.

Still giving him the grace to figure it out.

It made him feel worse.

But it also made him want to be better.

For her.

“I thought if I ignored it, it’d go away,” he said, quieter now.

She smiled—sad, knowing.

Something twisted in his gut. “It never does.”

He looked at her again.

Really looked.

And she let him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Voice small. Stripped.

A beat passed. Maybe two.

Her face didn’t change. But her body relaxed a fraction.

She nodded once. “It’s alright. We’re alright.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Really.”

She smiled then—soft and honest.

His heart pulled taut in his chest, stretched so tight it nearly gave out. But he smiled back anyway.

It was lopsided. A little wobbly.

A little too hopeful.

The silence between them softened, turned companionable—like a blanket pulled just barely up to the chin. Safe, but not quite warm.

She moved first, rising from the edge of the bed with a sigh, brushing non-existent lint off her sleeves.

“I’m heading down,” she said lightly. “Osamu’ll start mourning that stew if no one eats it.”

Atsumu stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. ‘Samu gets all dramatic when he’s ignored.”

(Y/n) gave a soft laugh, passing him on her way to the door.

Just before she left the room, she paused. Turned her head.

“I’m glad we talked.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Me too.”

Then, because it felt like the only thing he could do—he reached out.

Just a little.

Just enough to catch her pinky in his for a second as she passed.

She glanced down at their intertwined fingers.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t linger, either.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And Atsumu was left standing there.

Hand still curled like it remembered.

Chest too full.

Room too quiet.

And somehow, still not ready to follow.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “IS IT NEW YEAR’S YET, I’M GETTIN’ BORED, SO CAN WE SKIP AHEAD?” ── .✦. ( a drabble of celebrating with batboys new years with batboys !! )

a/n: it’s 2025 oml, this year has been filled with ups and downs and many tears, many smiles, I wish that I live longer enough to enough plenty of years in peace, for 2025 my New Year’s resolution is to expand my interests && meet new people and friends and to be kind, understandable, happy, and positive and poetic !! Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick insists on going out for New Year’s Eve. He loves the energy of the city and wants to celebrate with you in style.

He takes you to a rooftop party with the best view of Gotham’s fireworks. He’s that guy pulling you onto the dance floor and spinning you around until your cheeks hurt from smiling.

When the countdown begins, he gets super excited, holding your hands and hyping up the moment like, “This is it! Best year yet, babe!”, “it’s just new years dick calm down.”

At midnight, he gives you a movie-worthy kiss, dipping you slightly for dramatic effect.

After the party, you both grab late-night street food and walk around the city, talking about your hopes for the new year.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason prefers a quieter New Year’s Eve at home, but he doesn’t mind doing something small if it makes you happy.

He sets up a cozy evening with your favorite snacks, drinks, and a movie marathon. “This is better than overpriced parties and sweaty crowds, right?”

As the clock nears midnight, he’ll make a sarcastic comment like, “Think 2025 will be the year Gotham finally gets its act together?”

At midnight, he gives you a sweet kiss and mumbles, “Here’s to another year of putting up with me.

If you want to do something fun, he might take you to a rooftop to watch fireworks. He holds you close and pretends it’s just for warmth, but he’s smiling the whole time.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s ideal New Year’s involves a mix of productivity and relaxation. He plans a cute night in where you can both reflect on the past year and set goals for the new one.

He buys a journal or a vision board for the two of you to fill out together. “Okay, what’s your most unrealistic goal for this year? Let’s make it happen.”

He struggles to stay awake as midnight approaches, though. You catch him dozing off during a movie, and he grumbles when you wake him. “I’m not asleep I’m resting my eyes.”

At midnight, he kisses you softly and murmurs, “Thanks for making this year better.”

If you want to go out, he’ll humor you with a cute date to a low-key café or a small gathering with friends.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian treats New Year’s as a time to improve himself. He’s not into big parties, but he’ll indulge your preferences to make you happy.

If you want to stay in, he sets up a fancy dinner for the two of you with candles and elegant dishes he helped Alfred prepare. “We’ll celebrate properly, without the chaos.”

He rolls his eyes at New Year’s resolutions but secretly sets a few for himself, especially involving you. “Fine. I resolve to… be more patient with you.” (You tease him for that.)

At midnight, he gives you a shy but heartfelt kiss and says, “I’m glad you’re in my life this year.”

If you convince him to watch fireworks, he’ll grumble about the noise but eventually relaxes when you lean against him.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce makes New Year’s a classy affair. He takes you to a gala or hosts an elegant party at Wayne Manor.

He’s by your side the whole night, introducing you to important guests and making sure you feel like the most important person in the room.

At midnight, he’ll find a quiet corner to steal a private moment with you, giving you a soft, lingering kiss and whispering, “Thank you for making this year so much brighter.”

If you prefer something low-key, he’ll cancel all plans and spend the evening with you at home. You’ll share champagne by the fire, reminiscing about the past year.

He’s the type to surprise you with a meaningful gift at the stroke of midnight, like a bracelet engraved with the date or a key to the Manor if you don’t already live there.

[clawsonpaws]

Tips for closeted littles from a closeted little

Diapers: period pads (get the overnight ones) or period underwear, they might not work superrrr well but they’re worth a try

Paci: chewlry, lollipops, baby bottle pops, push pops, I’ve seen lollipops that look like pacis before, your thumb✨

Sippy cups/bottles: cute water bottles with straws

Clothes: adult onesies, most pajamas are super cuteee, cute clothes in general no one will question you since it’s a style

Bed?: I personally roll up blankets and put them on the side of my bed not by the wall and it makes me feel like I’m in a sorta crib

If you have a way to go to a convenience store and pay without parents knowing, they will most likely have baby products, make sure to buy some big things too if they ask

Ask a friend you’re comfortable with to buy something little for you if they’re able to

Kids games on any device really, if you’re superrrr concerned you can delete them after playing them

Swaddle yourself in a blanket it’s super cozy and you can pretend you’re a ghost!!

No one questions stuffies!!! You can play pretend with them when you’re alone :3

Baths! Just say you wanna relax and you can have super fun bubble baths!

Listen to lullabies with headphones on

Mac and cheese, yoggies (they are like little balls of yogurt covered strawberries and they make me feel so little), Cheerios, cheez its, goldfish, fruit snacks

For me, cups that are super big so they make me seem small while holding them

Always use little spoons/forks

Ask parents to cut up meat when given to you (my mom does it all the time:3)

Juice boxes/caprisuns never get questioned

Bracelets make me feel little, I dunno about anyone else

Watch kids shows (no one EVER questions Bluey)

Fictional caregivers (either make an imaginary one or make head cannons of a character!!)

Character ai has fictional caregivers you can talk to, plus you can make ais of them if there isn’t any

Find old baby/toddler stuff (for some reason a lot of people have them in their closet) and say you’re keeping them for nostalgia

If you have a parter tell them the little names you like as petnames they can call you

Coloring books never get questions

Get a journal that you can write little things in or draw in when regressed

HELLO KITTY, need I say more?

Cute socks!!

Weighted blankies

Oversized everything

Truck or treat as long as you can

If you cosplay cosplay as a child

Sensory items

Those hoodies that look like puppies

Bright colors on things you can (if they don’t make you overstimulated)

The tiny backpacks

You can use graphic novels as picture books!!

Bento boxes make me feel like I’m having a little lunch

If you can use straws when you drink from a cup and not a bottle

Oversized sweater and shorts (no pants nation!!>:3)

Sorry if it’s bad I came up with everything while writing it!!

Good luck to all my other littles love y’all <3 (platonically)

[honeytonedhottie]

dear diary⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✨

keeping a diary is so much FUN and helpful not only for my mental health but for overall GIRLINESS. as someone who's been keeping a diary consistently for two years now, i'll be giving some diary resources and tips on how to get started and maintain a diary.

WHY ITS FUN TO HAVE A DIARY ;

i love to read past entries bcuz first, im rly rly funny and its fun to go back and read what i was writing about at that time and just reminisce on points in my life. it makes for great entertainment and it showcases growth that i've made and the way that my character changed or grew.

its been a game-changer for my mental health bcuz i have a little outlet where i can be completely transparent and just yap endlessly with no one to stop me or invade on my privacy.

TOOLS FOR A PHYSICAL DIARY ;

fluffy pink and purple pens

yummy scented glitter pens

past-able things (examples include ; cut outs from magazines, photos that you've taken and printed, stickers, memo sheets)

some print able and past able resources ;

decoration for the actual diary like glitter, stickers, ribbons, and frills.

for the actual diary , look for diaries that are pretty (for example, fluffy diaries)

more examples ;

TOOLS FOR A DIGITAL DIARY ;

a good writing tool (FOR MY DIARY, I USE NOTION)

cute headers + photos to insert into my diary, i find all of my photos on pinterest.

digital diaries are easily a lot less work then physical diaries which is why i keep a digital diary but keeping a physical diary is SO much fun too.

THE ACTUAL WRITING PART ;

everyone will write in their diaries in a different way based on whatever feels the most natural, but for me i start off my entries with "dear diary" and then write in the journal as though i was writing to a friend so its super comfy and relaxed.

i actually have a couple of writing outlets, so i have a journal and i have a diary. my diary is mostly for my day-to-day life. its updated 2x a week (tuesdays and thursdays) in my journal, thats less about my day to day and just random things i wanna write about.

STUFF THAT I HAVE IN MY JOURNAL ;

all about me

girlhood and the little joys of life

why im the most beautiful girl (with proof)

stuff i like

vaunting about myself

sweetest inbox letters (cuz ur all so sweet)

list of things i've consciously manifested so far this year

my car collection

tattoos i wanna get and why

my unholier thoughts

PROMPTS AND IDEAS ;

angel numbers

favorite song lyrics

list of things to manifest

a love letter (to yourself, crush, etc)

letter to your future/past self

lipstick stain log

current obsessions

pressed flowers

favorite sweet treats (ranked)

list ur crushes and celebrity crushes

favorite quotes in general

ppl that u look up to

doodles

all in all i think that journalling is such a fun and beneficial hobby and hopefully this post can help u to start something that u might rly love. ✨

[corvusblackk]

101 wishes technique

Time ago, I think it was in 2017, I came across this manifestation method on youtube, I just looked for it now and I can’t find any media that talks about it for some reason so I’ll just have to rely on memory and personal modifications.

edit: omg I found it but it’s in italian > video > there are some differences in the method but anyway.

1. Take whatever journal you have, or buy one

When I knew about this method I used a small sized journal so that I could take it with me everywhere and hide it easily if you’re a closeted manifestor like me. You can first type in your notes app, but then you’ll have to write down the end thing on a journal.

2. Think about 101 things you want to manifest and write them down as a list, starting the phrase with “I want”

Example: n1- I want 1.000.000€ in my credit card, n2- I want a red pony, n3- I want to have super speed, etc…

A hundred-one things may seem a lot and they probably are, but you can think about literally anything, big or small, even just a random drive in mcdonalds from mom, or a castle in transylvania, and I came across some accounts on here that made posts of “what to manifest for fun” on various topics, such as supernatural, beauty wise, academic, and so on.

3. Read it all over every morning right after you wake up, or every night right before going to sleep

I used to read it at night before falling asleep so that I could detach better from it, but you do you

4. Just wait for da magic to happen

I remember that the man in the video said that, after a thing manifests, you can substitute it with a new wish.

“Rules”

you can do whatever you want of course, loa has no limits, these are just come of the rules i found in the video

- Start each wish with “I want” (not “I wish” or “I would like”, be firm)

- Avoid negative words (no, don’t, un, less, immune, etc)

- Maximum 14 words for each wish (it’s the max time you would have to whisper something in a breath)

- Avoid diminutives (“I want a little house at the beach” > you might find a little barbie house lmao)

- GO CRAZY with the wishes, write seemingly impossible desires, write down everything you ever wished for, they will become reality even faster

Before any little kid attacks me for putting rules over manifestation I’ll clear my throat one time and say “DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT” and don’t limit yourself. Those “rules” are just the ones said in the video, and I use them basically for fun, because if you affirm anything against those “rules” you will still get your desired outcome because you’re a god and gods can do whatever the fuck they want without limit, so just sit and relax.

You can see results instantly, some people have received some of their manifestation on the same day, while others took more time, but it all comes down to your assumptions.

This is kind of a Law of Attraction thingy, because you just have to write down your desires, read them every day, and then detach. I hope you don’t hate me for speaking about something non-loassumption, I hope you still love me for who I am.

[psychedelic-pebble]

Leashed — Stanford Pines x GN!Reader

hey guys haha i havent posted a proper fic in a while so here, this one is super embarrassing though please dont look at me 😭

Warnings: NSFW Content, Petplay, Puppyplay, BDSM, Dom!Stanford, Sub!Reader, P in V Sex, Mild Breeding - MDNI.

Stanford has always been an adventurous man, so it comes to the surprise of absolutely no one that it translates over into the bedroom as well. You match his pace incredibly well, springing new ideas and scenarios on him whenever possible. He’s always been willing to give new things a shot, so long as it’s safe and so long as it’s you.

Currently busy scribbling away in his journal he completely misses the sound of the rusty elevator doors creaking open, followed by your footsteps on the dusty lab floor.

You sidle over to him and drape your arms around his shoulders, pressing your head against the side of his throat which causes him to stiffen against your touch.

“Hey.” You smile and Ford immediately relaxes at the sound of your voice, setting his pen down on the table. He brings a hand up to brush the side of your face, stroking your jaw gently with his thumb.

“Hello.” He leans into you, a smile breaking out on his usually stoic face. “What do you need, my dear?”

You hum thoughtfully for a moment, carding your fingers through his messy hair and mussing it further.

“I got some stuff today.” Ford perks up a little at your words, brows raising slightly. “I, uh, wanted to try something new. In the bedroom.”

He turns his chair so that he’s facing you, causing you to stumble a little, but he reaches an arm out to steady you before you can fall. His arm comes to rest around your waist, pulling you gently closer as he looks up at you with big, curious eyes.

“Oh? Color me intrigued.” A small grin appears on his face, awaiting your response. You pull out of his touch and motion for him to follow you, which he does, standing and closing his journal to wander after you.

“I put it upstairs. I hope it’s not too weird.” You give a sheepish smile as the two of you board the elevator, and he places a hand flat on your back to comfort your fears.

“Darling, I’ve seen almost everything in and out of this dimension.” He chuckles, rubbing your back gently. “I highly doubt that it’s too weird.”

You both exit the elevator and you tug him along to your shared bedroom, kicking the door shut behind you and rushing excitedly over to the box sitting on your bed. A soft laugh escapes him as you quickly beckon him over.

“Excited, are we?” He sits down next to you on the bed, looking at the closed box. You nod, flashing a grin and opening the box to rifle through it.

He watches intently as you pull out the few items, tilting his head to the side curiously. You hold up a beautiful deep red and black collar with a matching metal chain leash, almost the same color as his sweater. He blinks a few times, raising an eyebrow and you swear you can hear the cogs turning in his brain.

“I thought it might spice things up a little.” You look away embarrassedly. “I could, uh, wear it.”

“You… want me to treat you like a dog?” He tilts his head adorably, clearly attempting to understand better.

“Essentially.” You nod, and he hums in thought.

“I think I can give it a shot.” He leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead and you give a big, dumb smile.

You lean back to slip the collar on with a satisfying ‘click!’ sound, adjusting it so that it's tight enough but not suffocating you. It presses comfortably against your trachea, with just the right amount of pressure to make you more than a little hot and bothered. You reach back into the box to grab one more item, Ford watching curiously as you pull out a gag.

“I also got this, but we don’t have to use it if you don’t want t-”

“No, wear it.” Stanford cuts you off, almost flustering himself with the quickness of his objection. His face reddens almost immediately, and he clears his throat. “If you’d like to, of course.”

You grin, fidgeting with the harness of the gag in your hands. It’s a beautiful carmine color, with black leather straps accompanying it.

“Should I undress?” You look up at him, and he hums thoughtfully.

“Everything but your underwear,” Stanford responds after a moment, clearly already thinking up a plan. You love that expression he has, when he’s thinking hard about something. When his eyebrows furrow and his eyes cast upwards absently.

Without a second thought, you set the gag down and stand to remove your shirt, pulling it upwards and casting it to the floor. He looks mildly awestruck — as he usually does when you’re undressed — and shamelessly stares at your torso with a dumb grin.

You shyly look away, fidgeting with your pants button awkwardly. He chuckles, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching out to hold your hips with both hands. All twelve fingers come to rest on your hips, pulling you slightly closer.

“Don’t be so shy, darling.” He purrs, hands running inwards towards your abdomen and unbuttoning your pants with steady movements. “You know I love seeing you.”

A small blush creeps onto your face, accompanied by a flustered smile. He carefully unzips your pants and eases them down your thighs, nudging your legs apart ever so slightly to get them off easier whilst trying not to make you fall over at the same time.

You step out of your now discarded jeans and fidget with your hands, unsure what to do with them. Stanford leans closer and wraps a hand around the shiny metal chain clipped to the collar, pulling your head down roughly - but not painfully - so that you’re face to face with him. You make a sort of yelp noise, stumbling slightly but catching yourself before you can fall.

“Before we do this, I want to ensure your safety.” He says almost matter-of-factly, looking up at you. “If you need to tap out, just give two or three taps anywhere on my body, since you won’t be able to speak. If you’re unable to reach my body, hit the floor, or the bed.”

“Yessir.” You smile and nod, and he relaxes visibly, getting back into the persona of dominance.

“Can I put this on you now?” He reaches to the side to grab the gag, lifting it and holding it in front of your face. You give a shy nod, and he lets go of the chain to wrap the harness around your head with both hands. “Open, sweetheart.”

You realize after a minute that he’s asking you to open your mouth. Almost instantaneously after realizing it, you open your mouth so that your teeth are showing, tongue pressed flat against the bottom to accommodate for the gag. He hums, placing it gently in your mouth and reaching around to buckle it.

“Too tight?” He asks, and you make a muffled sound as if trying to respond before shaking your head. He laughs quietly, placing a hand on top of your head to give a few gentle strokes. “Good. Now, what should I do with you?”

You know it’s a rhetorical question, and he likely already knows what he’s going to do, but that doesn’t stop you from making a small whine.

“Aww,” he cooes, bringing the hand on your head down to your chin to give it a few affectionate scratches, “poor puppy doesn’t know what to do.”

You whine again, embarrassment slowly fading as he gets more into the roleplay. He hums in thought for a moment, toying with the chain dangling from your neck.

“How about this; get on your knees for me.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re on the floor almost immediately in front of him, knees pressed against the floor while you kneel.

You awkwardly hold your arms to your sides, unsure what to do with them, before Ford takes one and lifts it so that your arm is curled against your chest.

“Paws up, puppy.” Ford commands and you immediately bring your other hand up to match. “Good.”

He pats your head a few times, ruffling your hair while his other hand holds the chain. He gets that thoughtful expression on his face again, this time though, he holds eye contact with you, looking affectionately at you.

“Hmm.. let’s try this. Lay down.” He says after a moment of silence. You blink up at him, registering the command and attempting to execute it.

You scoot back slightly, placing your hands on the floor and laying on your stomach with your legs tucked underneath you. Ford makes an affectionate sound, reaching down to ruffle your hair again.

“Good puppy! Now, let’s try something harder… Roll over.” His voice is sweet and smooth in a way you’ve never heard before - he must be getting really into this.

You shift upwards slightly before ducking your head down, rolling over onto your back and keeping your arms curled up against your chest like a dog. He smiles, getting up off the bed to kneel next to you.

“What a good little pup, so obedient.” He reaches out a hand and places it flat on your belly, giving a couple of affectionate strokes. You arch your back upwards without question, and he chuckles. “Aw, does my puppy like tummy rubs?”

You make a drawn-out whine, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He laughs and inches his hand lower, just barely brushing beneath the waistband of your underwear. You wiggle your hips up into his touch and he draws his hand away, tutting at you.

“Not yet, pup. I have one more trick for you. Then you’ll get a treat.”

You give him a hopeful look, tilting your head to the side and he hums fondly, although his eyes glint with a certain mischief that you just barely miss.

“Beg.” Comes his short command, and you look confused for a second. The gag in your mouth made it impossible to speak, and he snickers at your expression. “C’mon, puppy. Don’t you want that reward?”

You whimper around the gag and he gives an encouraging nod. Realizing he doesn’t want you to beg like a person, you shamelessly begin whining and whimpering, looking up at him with big puppy-dog eyes. When he looks unfazed, you try harder, eyebrows furrowing as you huff and cry as best you can.

“There you go.” Ford grins, grabbing the collar and pulling up slightly. You follow his lead, sitting up and looking at him, waiting ever-so-patiently for that reward.

He leans closer to press a kiss to the crown of your head, running the hand not currently occupied by the chain through the hair on the nape of your neck. He tugs the chain a little bit, standing and sitting on the bed.

“Up.” He pats the bed next to him, and you hop up without a second thought. He suddenly grasps the edges of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head before turning to you. “On your hands and knees.”

You’re too far in to even be embarrassed at this point, willingly getting on your hands and knees in front of him. He grins, slipping off those clunky boots he always insists on wearing and crawling onto the bed behind you.

You startle slightly as his hands grab your hips roughly, pulling you back into him. An outright moan rips through the gag as you feel him pressed against you - he’s completely hard in his slacks.

“Still want that reward?” Stanford asks, rubbing soothing circles into your hips with his thumbs. What a gentleman.

You nod feverishly, grinding your ass back onto his now prominent erection which prompts a hiss from Ford. He nods, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and all but yanking them down. You yelp quietly, and he laughs, leaning back to shuffle out of his pants and boxers.

“So wet. You really like this, huh puppy?” He palms your ass, spreading you apart for him, before running his thumb down the slit of your cunt. You jolt, whining pathetically around the gag and pushing your hips back into his hand.

He growls a little, a deep, primal sound that you’ve heard at least a hundred times at this point. You can’t see it, but he’s got a huge, almost feral, grin on his face.

The head of his cock bumps your entrance and you hiss, whining and clawing at the sheets as your front half collapses onto the bed, leaving you face down ass up for him. His grip on your hips is almost bruising as he eases his cock into you, a low groan forcing itself from his lungs.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growls through his teeth, self-restraint a thread away from breaking as his hips meet yours. You make a whiny gasp, feeling as though the air was just knocked from your chest.

He gives you the comfort of waiting for you to adjust, but his hands shake a little on your hips, obviously impatient.

“Ready, pup?” He asks through gritted teeth, the same feral grin splitting his face. You nod after a minute, clawing the sheets and pressing your hips back.

He reaches down to grab the chain, pulling it around your neck so that it’s facing him. You shudder a little at the movement, and, just as a precaution, Stanford leans down to ask a question before he starts moving.

“Remember the safe wor- err, action?” He massages your hip gently, referring to the earlier conversation and making sure you know you can back out if it gets too much.

You nod, pressing your hips back into his. He groans and draws his hips back slightly, snapping them suddenly forward and fucking a moan that’s downright pornographic out of you. One hand rests on your hip, the other white knuckle gripping the chain around your throat and pulling it gently with every thrust.

He fucks you like he’ll die if he stops, hips moving with a rhythm that should be impossible for his age, but you figure 30 years of dimension-hopping will make you at least a little more athletic. You can barely form a sentence at this rate, his cock pumping deep, ferocious stokes inside of you that make you feel dizzy.

The tip of his cock jams into a sweet spot and you see stars, crying out and clenching hard around him.

“Fuck-!” Stanford’s grip on your hips tightens, and he leans down to growl in your ear. “Right there, pup? Yeah?”

You make a whiny noise of confirmation and he laughs, angling his hips to keep hitting that spot. You’re not gonna last long at this point, and you know he’s not going to either.

It’s hard to warn someone you’re about to cum with silicone stuffed in your mouth, but you try anyways, whines getting louder and more desperate, and he seems to understand. He somehow fucks into you impossibly faster, reaching his own release along with you.

“Can I, fuck- can I cum inside of you?” His voice is almost akin to a plea, and are you to deny him such a request? He did ask nicely, after all.

You nod your head again, emphasizing with a muffled whimper. His eyes screw shut and his head tilts back as he thrusts a few more times, stilling suddenly as he reaches his peak, stuffing your cunt full of hot cum and making a noise that sounds straight out of a porno.

You cry out and gasp, shaking and clenching around him as he haphazardly fucks you through your orgasm, making sure you reach it too. It’s like fireworks go off inside your brain and you’re certain you’ve never cum this hard before, pleasure sparking up your spine as the coil in your belly finally snaps.

You both take a good while to come down, panting and shaking a little as he rubs gently up and down your back. He pulls out eventually, making you whimper softly from the overstimulation.

He sits next to you as you lifelessly flop over onto the bed, hands still twitching from the intensity of your orgasm. He reaches over to remove the gag, unhooking the buckle and pulling it out of your mouth.

“Bleeugh,” a thick line of saliva drips from your mouth and onto the bed, “…sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Stanford chuckles, placing the gag down on the nightstand after wiping it off with a tissue. “We can wash the sheets later.”

He rolls over and pulls you into his arms, throwing the blanket over you both and reaching over to unbuckle the collar so that you don’t suffocate in your sleep. He puts that on the nightstand as well, before cuddling up to you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, dear.” He smiles, carding a hand through your hair. “I enjoyed myself as well, although I’m fairly certain my back will be sore for a while.”

“Thank you for indulging me.” You laugh, snuggling into him.

“Anything for you, my dearest.”

It doesn’t take long for you both to drift off, the night's events being entirely exhausting for both of you, and you’re both sure you discovered something new about yourselves.

Thank you as always for reading, and i hope you enjoyed <3

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 435: GRWM Aubrey

Here’s another bit from my journal. Sorry if it’s not very good.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

These new things I can do are so weird. Blessing and a curse. I’m just so sensitive it’s hard sometimes, especially being around some other people. Already I felt funny about Angie, I did from almost the first time I met her, before this all really started. But now it’s the same thing with, like, some of the reporters we met. With Olivia. With some of the girls like Kathy and Morgan and that Bianca.  About…omigod what’s her name, the chubby girl that used to work here, in scheduling? And then, today at the ribbon cutting, my little tingles really lit up when the new girls got off the bus from California, streaming off like little ants (well haha big tall ants with gorgeous hair omg). They’re different. Maybe we just need to get to know them? Then maybe we’ll bond? But, still, I feel protective of Dr J, like warm in my (so stupid big) chest like I wish he’d just let me put him in there and keep him safe from everything omggggg. 

Anyway, they’re all going to be there tonight - Angie, Olivia, the girls hired from Evolution, and all the new women that got off the bus. I’m going to try to keep my empathy from being too big a thing for me tonight. I’m excited to see everyone dressed up, too: Josie, Lakshmi, my girls from the desk….and especially Melissa. And, ooo, super-especially Dr.J. I’m going to try to relax. It is a party after all, and I want to have fun. 

++++++++++++++

thanks for reading. I really appreciate it.

==============

[beelinx]

Hiiiiiii I love your headcanon posts!! Could I request a child of Hecate x Leo Valdez?? My s/i is a Hecate kid so I love to hc that I have to use magic to put him to sleep or something cuz he overworks himself lmao

Anyway tysm I love your writing 😭😭

leo valdez dating a child of hecate hcs

a/n: tysm 😭🫶 that's really sweet 💕 AND YOUR HEADCANON IS SO GOOD.

I LOVEEE THAT HEADCANON OKAY 😭

It’s so real too because I can very clearly see that happening.

He’s staying up late again, working on some project he can very well finish the next day.

But, of course, he can’t, because he needs to finish it now.

Something about motivation and ideas.

Every once in a while he enters this phase of overworking himself until he passes out every night.

Everytime you would be there until he snapped out of it, but this time you weren’t having it at all.

Seeing his eye bags get bigger as the days passed by broke your heart.

Good thing you’re a child of Hecate!

Your magic came in handy in many ways.

Levitating objects towards you when you’re feeling lazy.

Creating fire or cold when needed.

For fighting or protecting yourself against monsters.

And, best of all, taking away someone’s nose if they piss you off!

Well, with so many helpful abilities, sometimes even you overexert yourself.

Which is precisely why you know that him doing this to himself is not going to help him at all.

In fact, it will likely do him more harm than good.

So, obviously, this was for his wellbeing!

At least that’s what you’re telling yourself as you drag his unconscious body back to his cabin.

He wasn’t knocked out or anything – he was just sleeping.

You barely had to do anything, as he was already passing out against your shoulder when you arrived at his workshop.

You did feel kinda guilty though, but the next morning he thanked you.

Apparently his mind felt way clearer now.

He also said that, now, he was ready to get back to work.

You smacked him (lovingly).

Okayy now back to more general headcanons.

Honestly I say this all the time but that man is soo in love it’s insane.

No one is safe from his rants about you.

Literally thinks your magic is the coolest thing ever.

If you didn’t know her before, then he’d definitely introduce you to Hazel, since he related your use of magic to hers.

You end up getting along pretty well and you sometimes help her with her magic if she needs it.

Leo loves to rant to you about his day all the time.

He’d tell you about all the little things he did, and beg you to explain your day in detail, too.

If he doesn’t understand some magic-related stuff you tell him, then he’ll basically get on his knees and beg you to explain it to him.

He wants to understand you and what you’re interested in.

It’s very important to him to know you, maybe even more well than you know yourself.

And, to be honest, he does a pretty good job at that.

I already mentioned this somewhere before, but I believe Leo would have a little journal full of facts about you – things you’re interested in, random stories you’ve told him, people that you care about…

It may be a little creepy that he has literally everything, but he would just hate to forget something about you, especially if it’s important to you.

Anyways, back to the point.

That journal also holds explanations about your magic and little notes he made to help you out if you’re struggling.

Sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t try to work with magic, too. Especially considering how much understanding he has for it thanks to you.

Honestly, this trope gives me black cat and orange cat energy.

He’s a little weird, and you’re super cool.

Leo’s energy is contagious, though.

You end up being silly together.

The same way he enjoys it when you chill at his workshop while he works, he would love to just be relaxing nearby while you practice your magic.

He loves it when you are around each other, even if you aren’t exactly talking or anything.

Just your company is enough for him <3

Giving Leo’s past with bullies, if anyone in camp dares to make fun of him then they’ll soon face your wrath.

They’ll have to enjoy a nose-less life (at least until Chiron forces you to put them back to normal again)

He can very well defend himself, but the thing is he usually won’t.

That’s what his badass s/o is for.

That and the many hugs his touch-starved self needs.

[luvsturniolo]

hii, i love your writing sm ! if it's not too much to ask, could you please do a fic where the reader is matt's girlfriend and he dresses her up in his clothes partly as a joke but also because he thinks it would be cute. i just keep imagining the reader wearing his t-shirts or button up's and baggy jeans/jorts and she's trying to wear his shoes but they're too big on her and matt's just DYING at it. basically just a super cute, fluff moment. thank you sm!

— ★ !! wardrobe

pairing : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis : while casually hanging out, matt has the bright idea to dress you up in his clothes as a joke. but he's quickly taken aback when he sees you in them.

a/n : wait this request is so cute , i hope i do it justice 😭

wc : 0.6k

you've been dating matt for a few months now and his house has quickly become your favorite place. it's so relaxing in comparison to your own.

earlier today, you were overtaken with boredom. so you texted matt, asking him you pick you up. of course, he agreed. you've been lounging around his house for an hour or two, basking in the comfort that comes with being in your boyfriend's presence. 

you guys have watched a few movies, baked a pizza, and simply enjoyed being together. 

you're currently lying on matt's bed, scrolling through your instagram feed while he sits at his desk, writing something down in his journal.

despite not doing anything productive, neither of you could ever get sick of this. you've both come to realize that simply being together —even if it's boring to an outside perspective — is both of your guys' favorite thing to do.

suddenly, matt's head perks up at a random thought. you glance over in his direction to see him already looking at you with a wide smile on his face.

you laugh, "what?"

"nothing, nothing." he replies easily. "i just had a random idea that could be fun."

"well, let's hear it." you say, setting your phone down on the mattress beside you. you turn your full attention to matt as you urge him to tell you his idea.

he sets his pen in the crease of his notebook and before closing it, the pen becoming a bookmark so he can continue to journal later.

"what if," he begins, "you let me dress you up?"

"dress me up?" you repeat, laughing at the strange request. "my clothes are at my place and, no offense, but i don't think yours would fit me."

"exactly." matt says. "the fact that they won't fit is what'll make it so fun to do."

you tilt your head at him, still a little bit confused as to what's going on in his mind. 

matt gives you a grin before standing up from his chair and walking over to his closet. he opens the doors and begins rummaging through random clothing articles.

before long, he settles on a pair of his jean shorts and a baggy hoodie. he holds them up to show you his choices and you laugh.

"matt, that hoodie is too large for you. it's gonna completely engulf me." you tell him.

"pleaseeeeeee!" he pleads. "just try it on. it'll be funny!"

you breathe out a laugh before getting up from his bed and taking the clothes out of his hands. you leave his room and enter the bathroom. you strip out of your current clothing and replace them with matt's.

you look down at yourself and scrunch your eyebrows at your appearance. why is matt so interested in seeing you wear his clothes? in your eyes, you look extremely goofy.

regardless of how you feel, you reenter his bedroom and do a dramatic twirl to show off your outfit.

"cute, huh?" you ask him with a laugh. but matt doesn't respond. he's too busy staring at you — almost as if he genuinely thinks you look half decent. 

"yes." matt finally replies, completely serious about his answer. you give him a weird look, waiting for him to laugh or say it's a joke. but he doesn't. he just keeps staring.

"wait, for real?" you ask.

matt looks you in the eyes before stepping closer to you, "you look adorable, y/n. for real."

he takes your face in his hands, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. you can feel him smile against your lips and you get an unreal amount of butterflies from the tiny gesture. 

when the kiss is broken, he continues to cup your cheeks as he admires every indivual feature of your face.

"you're so weird." you tell him.

"maybe," he agrees, "but you like my weirdness."

you tip your head upward to kiss him again before saying, "yeah. i really do."

tags : @kasqnxx @lvrsparadise @prettysturniolo @strniolo @urmyslxt @uhnanix @cupidsturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @thetriplets3 @sturn1olo-ffics @deadxrx @kitaysworld @slaysturniolo

[xhunnybeeex]

Hayden christensen character music/playlist headcanons 

playlists at the bottom of sections :3

❥ ~ Sam Monroe ~ 

Sam Monroe ~ mainly listens to mall goth/ metal, that's just cannon. However, he DEFINITELY got really into other goth subgenres while finding cds. 

Sam Monroe ~ would have to be forced to admit he loves riot girl movies. 

“Is this bikini kill in your mixtape?” you ask Sam as you dig through his cds. “I didn't know you were into riot girl music.” “I'm not,” he grumbles. 

Sam Monroe ~ loves angry midwest emo music. He loves the emo whine. 

Sam Monroe ~ doesn’t have a very diverse taste. He only really likes alt genres, but every once in a while you'll see him nod his head to pop songs on the radio. 

"this is clearly a differnt genre what are you talking about" sam protest. "Theyre all just screaming how is that different!" you yell back.

Sam Monroe ~ is the type to say “name three songs”, but only in front of other alt people to look cool. 

Sam Monroe ~ loves the goth culture but doesn't know how to become part of it, especially without getting bullied. 

Sam Monroe ~  loves making mixtapes with songs he likes to pair together, even if they sounds the same 

Sam monroe playlist done by me ⇦ ⇦ ⇦

❥ ~ Anakin Skywalker ~ 

Anakin Skywalker ~ obviously doesn’t have any cannon music taste so the following playlist is all what I PERSONALLY think Anakin would like to listen to or are him “coded”. This one was the hardest for me to do and is honestly probably the most inaccurate. 

Anakin Skywalker ~ is clearly pretty when he cries, and very lana del rey coded

Anakin Skywalker ~ would have a very open music taste, he listens to what people show him

Anakin Skywalker ~ likes classic rock and acoustic music from obi wan, sad girl music from ahsoka (oh you know she showed him mitski), and softer popy music from padme. 

Anakin Skywalker ~ never knows the names of artists, always has to hum songs for people to know what he's talking about. 

Anakin Skywalker ~ always asks Ahsoka to play her music when flying, but he'll always deny that he does. 

“Why don't you pick your own music for once!” Ahsoka groans in annoyance, rubbing her face in her hands. “Cause i'm flying! "Anakin yells back in protest. “Just admit you like my music.” Ahsoka smirks, plugging her comlink into the ship and getting her playlist on. Anakin stays silent. Pretending not to hear her and stares off at the stars in front of him as he flys. 

Anakin Skywalker playlist by me ⇦ ⇦ ⇦

❥ ~Stephen Glass ~

Stephen Glass ~ has a very diverse taste in all sorts of funky music

Stephen Glass ~ who lives for folk music but also is obsessed with pop music 

Stephen Glass ~ can’t not have Lady gaga on his playlists and knows all her songs. He yells at people who don't know summer boy because that's his favorite. 

Stephen Glass ~ who grew up on bob dylan and the beatles

Stephen Glass ~ was always a Brittany defender and refused to do journalism about her. He would never lie about the queen herself. 

“Did you guys see that britney spears-” his co workers gossip. “I need to be excused.” Stephen immediately stands up and walks anywhere from the conversation. He doesn’t want to hear what they say, and no one wants to know what he would respond with. 

Stephen Glass ~ loves to relax to calming 70s music. 

Stephen Glass ~ is a huge music nerd, but isn't even aware of it. 

“This is Joni Mitchel, she's super cool. She's canadian. I just found that out. I’ve been listening to her for years but I just found out. Crazy huh?” Stephen rambles. You chuckle in amazement on how much he knows and how fast his lips move. “Jeez you sure know a lot about music.” Stephen shakes his head and smiles. “Oh no, not really. I couldn't even play anything if I tried. But anyway did you know-” 

Stephen Glass playlist made by me ⇦ ⇦ ⇦

A/N///: OMGGG im very happy to fianlly have stuff posted again. i have been so out of it lately. this is my first time ever writing headcanons so go easy on me. i have had this sam monroe playlist made for a while now and it gave me the idea to make a lil post about it. i hope yall enjoy and maybe even have a listen. happy thanksgiving and stay hot. - beee!

[perfectsunlight]

[01] THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER

warnings: none

part of the series: ivory

“how would you describe ivory?” 

the interviewer, park minho, asked chaewon as the camera focused on her. she chuckled slightly before she answered. “ivory?” the leader took a few moments to think about her response before speaking once again. 

“she’s a very special girl. very sweet, very kind.”

the video cuts to sakura answering the same question. 

“ah,” the japanese girl smiled. “she’s a very rare kind of person, that’s for sure.” yunjin and kazuha are the next to answer, followed by eunchae. 

“honestly, she’s very talented. just super bright and good at what she does.”    “i’d say she’s truly a superstar. i’ve never seen someone like her.”      “ivory is unique. she’s just ivory, and ivory is amazing.”

finally, the mentioned girl appears on screen. final touches are placed on her appearance before the staff disappears off camera. ivory is seated in an empty practice room with the interviewer in front of her. 

“would you like to introduce yourself?”

cat-like eyes found the lens with ease and the young girl flashed a small smile. “hello,” she waved at the camera. “i’m ivory, a member of le sserafim.” she was dressed in a simple yet elegant white blouse paired with black pants, her hair styled in soft waves that framed her face delicately. her demeanor exuded confidence and warmth, making even minho smile.

he shifted in his seat, preparing for a more personal line of questioning. “your name, it’s very unique. could you tell me about where it comes from?” in all of his years of journalism, he had seldom encountered a name like hers, especially in this industry. ivory, unperturbed by the question, leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement.

“it’s my middle name.” the idol said as she spoke with her hands. “my first name is jane, but my middle name is ivory. i thought it would be cooler to use my middle name, so i just went with that.” 

he nodded, noting the subtle playfulness in her response. her youthfulness was definitely evident in her mannerisms, however the young girl was well spoken for her age. “can you tell us a bit about your journey to becoming a member of le sserafim? what inspired you to become an idol?”

ivory’s expression softened with nostalgia as she recalled her younger self. she could sit here for days and think “i’ve always loved music. it wasn’t something i thought i could do as a career until my grandmother sat me down and said she believed i could do it.”

“at 15, i became part of a project group called new jeans.” ivory continued as she explained her story. “we were just an experiment for about two years, and right after that ended, source music gave me a call. and now, here i am.”

the interviewer nodded, intrigued by her story. he had interviewed many idols before, but they were not always this young. “you’re very young. did that affect your homelife and schooling?” he asked while the camera focused on the two of them.

the brunette paused for a moment, her expression briefly flickering with a hint of introspection before she composed herself with a gentle smile. “it did, in some ways,” she admitted thoughtfully. “growing up, i lived with my grandmother. she supported my dreams from the beginning, but balancing school and training was definitely challenging.”

she chose her words carefully, delicately navigating around the subject of her parents, as she had learned to do over the years. “there were sacrifices, of course,” she continued, her voice steady. “but i've always been grateful for the opportunities and the support.”

the interviewer nodded empathetically, sensing the complexity beneath her poised exterior. he could tell the girl in front of him had definitely worked to get to where she was.

“what do you like to do for fun?” minho shifted the conversation into a more positive direction, allowing ivory a moment to relax from the more introspective topics. her eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she spoke about her hobbies and interests outside of music. “i love writing songs," she began, her smile genuine. “i also enjoy reading—fiction and poetry are my favorites. and, of course, spending time with my friends and like going to concerts”

minho gave the young idol a small smile, enjoying the enthusiasm from the girl. everytime he smiled, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d seen her face before. he chalked it up to possibly seeing her during her time with newjeans. 

“tell me about your first concert. you must have been even younger, i’m assuming.” he asked while the camera shifted its attention to the idol. 

ivory's demeanor softened slightly at the mention of her first concert, a memory tainted with both nostalgia and complexity. she took a moment to collect her thoughts, her mind briefly revisiting the vivid scenes of that day.

“yes, i was quite young,” she began, a faint smile playing on her lips as she recalled the excitement of her first live performance experience. “i was about 7 years old and my grandmother went with me to see blackpink,” she admitted, her voice carrying a mix of reverence and fondness. “it was definitely something i’ll never forget.”

“do you have a favorite song from them?” minho inquired while the camera remained focused on the brunette. her expression hardened for a moment before she managed to force a thin smile.

“no. i don’t really listen to blackpink.”

sensing a bit of tension but deciding to proceed, minho changed the subject back to the group. “you officially debut tomorrow, how do you feel?”

ivory's smile widened, grateful for the change in topic as she redirected her focus to the upcoming milestone in her career. "i'm incredibly excited," she replied, her voice bright with anticipation. “le sserafim has been a dream come true for me. we've all worked so hard to prepare, and i can't wait for everyone to see what we've been working on.”

“we are all looking forward to it. aside from your hobbies, what’s something about you that your fans might be surprised to learn?” he asked while the camera shifted back to him for a moment.

ivory shared a gummy smile along with a playful look in her eyes. “i’m actually left handed. i don’t even think my managers know that. i know eunchae knows because we share a room, but i think she’s the only one who does.”

the interviewer chuckled. “really? are there any challenges or advantages being left-handed in your line of work?” minho’s eyes scanned ivory’s features, still unable to shake the familiarity in each of them.

the brunette shook her head, her smile widening. “when we practice, we use our left side the majority of the time because on stage it’s mirrored and it looks like our right side. so, it just feels more natural for me when i’m dancing.”

“that’s wonderful. i’ve yet to see some of your dancin, but would you consider yourself more of a vocalist or a dancer?”

her cat-like eyes narrowed slightly as she hummed in thought. “i’d say a bit of both, but i gravitate more towards singing. dancing was something i had to learn as a trainee, and i do enjoy it, but i’ve always loved singing.”

the interviewer nodded in agreement. “is there a go-to song you enjoy singing?” he asked as he leaned forward a bit. “or perhaps a favorite song you like to sing?”

“snowman by sia.” ivory said with a grin. “it’s an old song, and it came out when i was like a baby, but i love it.”

“we will all be looking forward to hearing your voice. lastly, what are your dreams for the future, both as an individual and as a member of le sserafim?”

ivory’s eyes glazed over with an aura of determination. “as an individual, i want to continue growing as an artist and exploring different facets of my creativity. as a member of le sserafim, i hope we can reach new heights together, inspire more people with our music, and leave a lasting impact in the industry.”

the interviewer smiled warmly. “thank you, ivory, for sharing so much with us. it’s been a pleasure.”

ivory nodded, her smile radiant. “thank you for having me. i hope everyone continues to support le sserafim.” the video ends after ivory finishes speaking. 

———

minho watched ivory walk out of the room they filmed in before he turned to one of the staff members and asked a question.

“doesn’t she look like someone?” 

the staff member paused, considering the question carefully before responding with a curious expression. “actually, now that you mention it, she does remind me of someone. but i'm not sure who, i just can’t put my finger on it.”

the older man nodded thoughtfully while staring at the video playback of the mentioned idol. there were numerous features about the girl that were familiar, but there was one prominent one that stood out the most.

“i’ve seen her eyes somewhere, i just know it.”

previous | masterlist | next

[crystalandbow]

PAC; BEST MANIFESTATION TIPS 🪞🕯️☀️🐚

HIII! Today we will dive into how you can manifest anything, whats the technique for you, what can you do to accelerate the process, etc. SOOO.... lets begin!

note: paid subliminal requests/ custom subliminals are available. and also paid tarot readings are open, for more details dm!

FREE TAROT

PAID TAROT

pick a barbie character 👇🏻

PILE 1

if you're wondering how you can manifest things super quick & easily, you are at the right place!

the answer is: simply by asking and letting go. some methods i'd recommend are the love letter method, or any letter / paper method (specifically anything that has to do with folding paper) for that matter. the 17 second methods and the surrender method.( you can either ask me doubts/questions about this in the comments or search them up on yt)

you are the people that think of the first case scenarios first. y'all overthink sm, which is obv not good. and i'd say that you shouldn't supress those negative thoughts but rather face them. 2 major things for you guys is facing your fears and doubts, 2- letting go and trusting the universe/spirit/god (whatever you believe in) also you guys could resonate with the little mermaid's story.

SURRENDER and LET GO!

ask and surrender. believe in the universe (444) and you've LITERALLY got this.

PILE 2:

Okie so if you're wondering how you can manifest things super quick & easily, you are at the right place!

the angel numbers that you see are not just co incidences, no, nope. they mean something. they are a reminder! they are a sign!!

the way that you guys manifest is through emotions my dear empaths. like even before i started your readings that is something i picked up upon, and if you want to know a litlle more scientific stuff about it then do check out barbara fredrickson's broaden and build theory. that will help you know what i mean. . whatever you feel within is what you attract, so think of good stuff, happiness, celebrate small victories.

some manifestation methods i'd recommend are gratitude, crystal work, green witch kinda stuff? water manifestation (especially sun water) , fake it till you make it, journaling & shadow work.

PILE 3:

hello! if you're wondering how you can manifest things super quick & easily, you are at the right place!

you are my prayer peeps, doesn't have to be very religious but you do believe in the power of prayers or asking the universe.

right off the bat you guys are my socially? "weird" people. the kids that are creative and different. yall are ENTHUSIAISTIC fssss. sm energy,sm passion ong. and the way you can manifest is through directing that energy into the right place. yall seem mis-directed in some way. another way you can manifest is through talking and connecting? writing? something around those llines like sharing your work/thoughts in some way.

i think you guys should read about ancient greek wisdom.

old literature and ancient knowledge will guide you towards an entire new perspective/world.

also calm tf down, like yeah we get it you want to have that thing rn/in a week but calm down my friend, ground yourself. also y'all need to relax & guide your mind it seems veryyy excited. its good but NOOO (its not helping atm)

basically redirection,taking steps, community, sharing knowledge & gaining knowledge, anient related stuff, prayers and staying happy/motivated, being free spirited, working with animals?.

some manifestation methods i'd recommend are vision boards, prayers, ancient manifestation tricks/methods? connecting with people/ sharing your knowledge., having a white pet could be lucky for you. or white is your lucky color and color magick too and taking actual actions/steps!!.

i think that you guys are pretty good at manifesting already, its more like a confirmation? (okay i fucking just realised y'all chose the weird barbie, its so reallll)

lmk your thoughts!!!