#kindnesses are effortless in the subtle knowing he takes from what they want to hear most; what others would say; so it sounds perfect.

[quillheel]

WHAT STRANGLEY SPECIFIC SCENT DO YOU GIVE OFF? ━ flowers during a sunshower.

it's picturesque how easy you make this life look. it's as if you're floating on air, thinking about everyone else and yourself at the same time. you're effortless in your kindness, and such acts come easily to you. the dew in the morning greets you with a kiss and the twilight of dusk sighs a lullaby for you to dream. you live a life where everything is cloud nine, and yet it's not enough. how could it be enough when nothing happens for you to try?

( ━ & the sweetness of water when you're dehydrated. )

... it's a little lonely out there for you, isn't it? people come into your life like a lightning bolt and leave just as quickly, and even if they start to linger it's not the same way they entered. you taste sweet like a pastry when someone should be having a protein bar. you're the desperation of people realizing a little too late that they need someone near them or they'll be lonely more than they'll ever be alone. you're the panic when the water tastes sweet to know that you haven't gotten what your body and heart deserve. it must get tiring, being on your own for so long.

━ rain after the thunderstorm.

you are the calm one, the one who believes to their core that they have everything under control. the world continues on past you, and you're walking away from the things that trouble you, whenever you can. you take a sip of your warmest tea, and you go sit down on the edge of the porch with your best friend, and the world passes you both by as you talk about nothing and everything in the world. you bring people to you the way rain forces shelter, and how the ground soaks it up like the morning dew. you are welcoming the way clouds welcome vapor until they can't anymore, and it rains, and rains, and rains. when you finally can hold no more, will you be raining, or thundering?

tagged: @moonrecalled TYSM I love seeing you on my dash so this was a really pleasant surprise!! tagging: @yukcri @icyexecutioner @yosukeh @foolshoujo @hellboundhermit @autonomousxselves @braveryhearted; any! though if wanted, keep the persona train rolling! & anyone else who wants to!!! If you need an excuse, if you're wearing socks or a longsleeve right now, do it!!

[littlelamy]

Rafe taking care of Reader who goes through a depressive episode. She’s feeling like she is a burden and feels like everyone would be happier with her gone. Maybe things are pretty new between them, only gone on a few dates so she obviously (like most) isn’t going to tell him anything and doesn’t think she matters to a guy she has gone on a few dates with anyway, so she just stops responding to his texts

a/n: thank you for requesting!⭐️ i hope i wrote it appropriately to what you requested 🙂💗part 2 is up!

the first time rafe noticed something was off, it was subtle—just a missed text here and there. maybe a delayed reply. nothing unusual at first. he probably told himself you were busy. everyone has those days where life gets hectic.

but when hours stretched into days and your replies went from short to nonexistent, he started to feel that quiet pull of worry.

“hey, you okay?” he texted the day before, after his third unanswered message.

you saw it pop up on your screen. his name glowed against the darkness of your room, and for a moment, your heart ached with the idea of answering. but then the thought crept in.

he’s just being polite.he barely knows you.he’s probably relieved you stopped answering anyway.

so you let the screen go dark.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. it wasn’t like you two were serious. you’d only gone on a handful of dates, and even though every moment with rafe had been sweet and effortless, there was no way someone like him could actually care.

you’d been wrong about people before.

the weight in your chest had only grown heavier over the past few weeks. even getting out of bed felt impossible some days, let alone pretending to be okay for someone like rafe cameron. so, you didn’t bother. you shut your phone off, buried it under a pillow, and let the world fade into static.

the knock at your door startled you.

at first, you thought it might’ve been a neighbor or a delivery driver, someone just passing through. but then it came again, louder this time, more deliberate.

“y/n?”

you froze, your breath catching as his voice carried through the door.

“it’s rafe.”

you stared at the door like it might open on its own. the last thing you wanted was to face him, especially like this. but hearing his voice made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“i, uh…” he hesitated, the sound of him shifting his weight audible through the thin walls. “i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

you stayed silent, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. but deep down, you knew rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to just walk away.

“you don’t have to let me in,” he added, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “just… let me know you’re alright.”

you clenched your fists, trying to will the lump in your throat away. how were you supposed to explain that you weren’t alright? that you hadn’t been alright in weeks?

the knock came again, gentler this time.

“i’m not leaving until i know you’re okay,” he said firmly, though there was no anger in his voice. only concern.

you sat frozen for what felt like forever, listening to the silence on the other side of the door. maybe he’d given up. maybe he was walking away right now, realizing this wasn’t worth his time.

but then your phone buzzed from where it lay buried under the pillow.

you hesitated before reaching for it, your hands trembling as you unlocked the screen.

rafe <3: hey, i’m outside your place. not trying to bother you, i just wanted to check in. if you need space, i get it. just let me know you’re alright, okay?

your chest ached as you read the words. there was nothing demanding about them, nothing that made you feel guilty or trapped. he wasn’t asking for anything except to know you were safe.

and that made it worse somehow.

because you weren’t.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[thewizardingpost]

A Promise to Spend Forever Together, Not Apart

poly!marauders x fem!reader

note ⌇ lately, James, Sirius, and Remus have been acting distant and busier than usual, making you fear they might be planning to break up with you, only to later discover they’ve been working hard to save up for a ring, wanting instead to spend forever with you.

warnings ⌇word count  2.8k, after-hogwarts, established relationship, misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, marriage, reader experiences insecure thoughts, slight arguing, happy ending, love confessions 

It made sense that they were all so busy—James with his new responsibilities as an Auror, Sirius throwing himself into his work as a private investigator, and Remus taking on the weight of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. What didn’t make sense was the way things felt different between you, the quiet space that had started to settle between moments that used to feel so effortless.

The transition into such life was slow, like a broken clock–a few broken ticks forward just to take a few back. You’d think it’d move forward then just that next week something else would change. James still smiled at you, but it was the kind of smile that came after hours of paperwork, his eyes carrying the weight of exhaustion as he kissed you goodnight, only to disappear back into his work. 

Sirius, though still warm and affectionate, had started making more excuses, talking about "one more case" or "just a few more leads," his voice laced with fatigue, not quite as carefree as it used to be. Remus had become more withdrawn at times, his thoughts clearly pulled elsewhere, his usual calm replaced by the tension of balancing too many responsibilities. 

They were still lovely, still affectionate, but the spark of energy that had once flowed so easily between you all seemed dimmer now, and the distance was subtle but unmistakable. It really did just seem like everyone was just slumped with work at first. 

You convinced yourself it was nothing more than the weight of their new lives. Then there were the whispers—hushed conversations that trailed off the moment you entered the room, the sudden silence that would fall when you walked by. You’d caught James leaning over to Sirius once, his voice low, words you couldn’t quite make out but sounded far too private for your liking. Remus, too, seemed to slip into quick murmurs with the others, always before a sudden, sharp change in topic when you appeared, as if they hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. Maybe they were just tired, maybe stressed, but the more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t help but feel like they were holding something back from you. It was like they wanted to be together without you, to discuss things you weren’t supposed to know. 

Your heart twists at the thought, from where you lie beside them in bed, the rest of them asleep, their bodies warm against yours. You’re being ridiculous. Overthinking has always been your worst enemy; there’s really no reason to lose sleep over this. Despite knowing that, your eyes won’t shut—your mind infected by these thoughts that only continue to grow more dangerous. You listen to their even breathing, the soft rustle of sheets, the clicking of the clock on your nightstand. Eventually, your body has had enough—and sleep pulls you under, though it doesn’t feel quite as peaceful as it should.

It wears on you—the lack of sleep, the constant whirl of anxious thoughts that refuse to quiet. You don’t communicate any of this with them, afraid to voice the doubt that’s slowly eating away at you. What if they really have grown tired of you? What if all this distance, this quiet space between moments that used to be so easy, is their way of pulling away? Who wouldn’t be? Everyone grows weary eventually, especially when the season shifts, when the warmth of spring and summer fades into the chill of fall and winter.

 It feels like you’ve reached the point where the honeymoon period is over, and the cracks are starting to show. Maybe they don’t need you anymore—not like they did before when you all were just teens at Hogwarts. Maybe they’ve just grown comfortable in their own lives, with their own ambitions, and you’re the one left wondering where you fit in. 

You don’t say anything, because what if you’re wrong? What if your fears are just that—fears—and nothing more? So, you keep quiet, hoping the weight will somehow lift on its own, even as it grows heavier each day.

Just as they’ve begun to pull away from you, you’ve subconsciously begun to do the same. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism—guarding yourself against the thought that they’ve grown tired of you, that they’re silently slipping away. Perhaps it’s the quiet, nagging fear that you’re no longer needed, no longer wanted, that you’re just a chapter in their lives they’re ready to close. You’re not entirely sure which, but it’s probably a mix of both. Regardless, something shifts in you, and you begin to separate yourself, even if just a little. 

You start feeling uncomfortable in spaces you once found so familiar, like the small moments you used to share now feel like you’re standing in someone else’s life. You wonder if they notice, though you can’t bring yourself to ask. The distance between you, though subtle, seems to grow with each passing day, and the warmth you once felt when they were near starts to feel off. You don’t know if it’s them or if it’s you—or maybe it’s both—but the easy closeness you once had with them now feels like something you have to work at.

For instance, earlier that week, when James had caught you staring blankly at the fireplace instead of joining the conversation, he’d leaned in, gently asking, “Hey, love, you alright?” His voice was soft, concerned, but there was an edge to it, something almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether to push or pull away. You’d shrugged, offering a quick smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, just tired.”

Sirius had shot you a look from across the room, brow furrowed. “You sure, beautiful? You’ve been… off lately.” He had said it in the usual teasing tone, but there was no mischief in it this time—just a quiet concern that you couldn’t quite brush off. “I’m fine, Sirius,” you’d replied, forcing the words out, even though you felt anything but.

Even Remus, normally so calm, had paused mid-sentence during a conversation, his eyes lingering on you before he shifted the topic to something lighter, something easy. You had noticed it, the way he’d been treading carefully around you all week, and it stung more than you expected. It wasn’t that you wanted them to push, but the distance between you had become so thick, you were starting to wonder if you could ever cut through it. They were so caught up in their own concerns, their own exhaustion, their own busy lives, that they didn’t even seem to realize how their behavior was affecting you.

It’s a Thursday, some random day in March, when they seem to be waiting for you to arrive home from work, all of them silently preparing to talk. You can feel the tension in the air, the way the space between you all has shifted—lighter, almost expectant. You can tell they’ve been holding onto something, and suddenly, you realize it’s not just you who’s been carrying a weight. As you walk through the door, their eyes meet yours.

It’s a Thursday, some random day in March, when you walk through the door, and immediately, the tension is thick. Sirius stands up abruptly, his eyes narrowing, voice laced with frustration. “What, you gonna run off to your room again?” he says, his words sharp and cutting. “Avoid us some more? Pretend everything’s fine?” His tone is tight, like he's trying to keep it together, but it’s clear the hurt is creeping through. “You’ve been shutting us out for days, and now you're just gonna walk in here like nothing’s wrong?”

“Padfoot, stop,” Remus interjects, his voice calm but firm as he steps between you and Sirius. He looks at his friend with a mixture of warning and understanding, trying to reign in the tension that’s spiraling out of control.

Sirius exhales in frustration, his gaze flickering between you and James, who has been quietly watching. James finally steps forward, his expression serious but soft. “Love, can we talk?” he asks quietly, the weight of his words settling in. There’s a quiet heaviness to his tone, and for a split second, your heart sinks, your mind racing with the worst possibilities. You freeze, wondering if they’re finally going to tell you what you’ve been dreading.It was as if the ground beneath you had vanished, leaving you plummeting into a void where everything you thought you knew was slipping away. The tears came fast, blurring your vision, but something else started building within you—anxiety, frustration, a burning anger that mixed with the hurt, making everything sharper. You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“God, why does this always happen?” you snapped, voice shaking, a bitter laugh escaping as you wiped at your eyes. “Everyone leaves eventually, right? What else did I expect? Maybe I should’ve seen it coming.” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. The words spilled out before you could stop them. “You’ve all been distant, quiet, barely even looking at me. What the hell is going on? Just say it already, whatever it is. I can’t—” You broke off, your voice faltering, before the anger took over again. “I can’t stand this anymore. It’s so obvious.”

Sirius stiffened, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was sharp, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “You’re acting like we’ve been ignoring you on purpose. What do you want from us?”

Your hands shook at your sides, the anger now bubbling over the sadness. “I want you to stop acting like I’m not here,” you shot back, each word sharp and frantic, as if they were the only way you could hold yourself together. “I want you to stop pretending like I’m not a burden.”

Sirius’s face twisted, frustration taking over. “You think you’re a burden? You think we don’t care? Are you serious?”

You snapped at him, your voice rising even though your heart was breaking. “I don’t know what else to think! You all used to look at me like I mattered, but now… now it’s like I’m invisible to you! Like I’m just some fucking inconvenience.”

Remus, who had been standing quietly off to the side, finally stepped forward, his voice laced with confusion and concern. “What the hell are you talking about?” He looked between you and Sirius, trying to make sense of the mess unfolding. “We’ve been stressed, yes, but this… this isn’t what’s going on. We’re not pushing you away.”

Your breath hitched, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “No,” you choked out, trembling with the weight of it all. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you? Just say it. I can’t take this silence anymore. I can’t stand pretending that everything’s fine when it isn’t. Just say it and I’ll leave. I’ll just go.”

The words hung heavy in the air, suffocating the space between you all. There was a beat of stunned silence before everything shifted.

Sirius’s anger evaporated instantly, replaced with something that looked almost like regret. His face softened, and he reached out toward you, but paused, as though unsure how to approach. “We’re not breaking up with you,” he said, his voice far softer now, almost apologetic. “We’re not… God, we’re just trying to figure things out. We’ve been distracted with other stuff, but none of it’s about you.”

Remus’s gaze softened too, though there was still a trace of concern in his eyes. “We’re not trying to push you away, love. You have to know that.” He moved closer, a hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “We’re not leaving you.”

James, who had been quiet until now, finally stepped up, his voice low but steady. “We’re not going anywhere,” he repeated, his eyes full of sincerity. “We’re just… we’re struggling too, and we don’t always know how to ask for what we need. But we need you. All of us.”

Your breath caught as you took in their words, the overwhelming fear and anger beginning to fade, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You were trembling now, your tears mixing with relief, but the weight was still there.

James reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, cupping your face gently in his hand. His touch grounded you, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away the tears that still fell. His eyes were soft, filled with a kind of sadness that made your heart ache. “You’re everything to us,” he said quietly, his voice steady but full of sincerity. “Nothing’s going to change that. We love you. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

You blinked at him, the words swirling in your mind but not quite sinking in. Slowly, you lifted your gaze, your eyes glossy, filled with so many unspoken fears. “Then why have you all been so distant?” Your voice was small, barely a whisper, but there was a rawness in it that you couldn’t hide. “Why have you been acting like... like I don’t matter anymore?”

James’s expression faltered for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wiped another tear from your cheek, his touch so tender it made your chest tighten. "Love," he began, the word gentle but heavy. "We’ve never meant for you to feel that way. We’ve just been... trying to give you something. We didn’t want to do anything that might make you feel neglected, I swear.”

At this, Remus, who had been standing quietly, stepped forward, his usual calm replaced with a soft urgency. His brow furrowed slightly, concern etched on his face. “We’ve all been working—well, all of us—trying to save up for something. We’ve been distant because we didn’t want to distract you with all the planning we’ve been doing behind the scenes.”

You frowned, trying to make sense of his words. “Planning?” Your voice cracked. “What... what are you talking about?”

Sirius, who had been standing a few steps behind the others, took a deep breath before he finally spoke. His voice, though usually teasing and full of confidence, was softer now, almost apologetic. He stepped forward, his gaze locking with yours. “We’re planning to marry you, love. We’ve been saving up for a ring.” His eyes softened as he met your gaze, his hand finding yours, holding it gently in his. “We don’t want you to think that we’ve stopped loving you, or that we’ve been pushing you away. We just wanted to do this right for you, for us.”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at them in disbelief. A ring? Marriage? The confusion, the fear that had consumed you for weeks... suddenly, it all felt so small, so misplaced.

“Marry me?” you whispered, your voice trembling, your heart both racing and slowing in the same beat. You couldn’t make sense of it. How could you have thought they were pulling away?

Sirius, seeing your confusion, gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ve been trying to save, love. Trying to figure out how to make it perfect, and how to make sure we’re doing it right. We didn’t want to ruin the surprise, didn’t want to make you feel like we were slipping away.”

You wiped at your face again, still shaking, the realization sinking in, piece by piece. “I thought…” you trailed off, your voice small, your chest still tight. “I thought you were going to leave me.”

James’s face softened, his eyes full of regret as he pulled you into his arms. “No, love, we’re never leaving you,” he murmured, holding you close. “We were just trying to make this moment everything you deserve. We’ve always been here. Always will be.”

Remus stepped in, his voice a comforting whisper against your ear. “We love you, and we want this to last forever. We want to show you that every day for the rest of our lives.”

"I love you all too, so incredibly much."

The fear and doubt, all those months of wondering if they'd drift away from you, melted away in an instant. They weren't leaving you—they were offering something far greater. A promise to spend forever together, not apart. As you lean into them, feeling their warmth, their love, your body finally relaxed, and the future, the one you had feared might be slipping away, is full of certainty.

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Changeling/Female Reader

SFW

Wordcount: 7,928

Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

One of your favourite clients is a changeling who uses their shapeshifting ability to hide their true form. Each tattoo session becomes a step closer to revealing the changeling's real appearance, and you realise he's more beautiful than expected.

The chime above the door of Ink Envy rang out, signalling the arrival of a potential new client. Izzy looked up from her sketchpad, pushing a wild tangle of dark curls out of her face. As the door swung open, she was greeted by the sight of a tall, striking man stepping into the parlour. 

There was something about him that immediately caught her attention. He was handsome in an unconventional way, with a lean, well-proportioned frame that moved with effortless grace. His black hair fell in a straight, sleek curtain to his shoulders, contrasting sharply with her own untamed curls. But what really drew Izzy in were his eyes—an intense shade of violet that seemed to glow in the soft lighting of the studio. 

She couldn’t shake the sense that she’d seen him before, though she couldn’t quite place where.

Izzy’s curiosity was piqued, and she found herself thinking, cute.

“Welcome to Ink Envy,” she called out, her voice carrying across the studio. She set down her pencil and stood up, her tall frame giving her a commanding presence behind the counter. “Can I help you with something?”

The man smiled, a small, enigmatic curve of his lips that revealed little but hinted at much. “Hi, I’m Aleks,” he replied, his voice smooth and warm. “I’d like to book a consultation for a tattoo.”

Izzy gave him a once-over, intrigued by both his appearance and his demeanour. She’d met all sorts in her line of work—humans, goblins, plenty of orcs—but Aleks was different. Something about him made her want to know more.

“Alright, Aleks,” she said, pulling out her appointment book. “What are you thinking of getting done?”

“A sleeve,” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. “Something intricate, with natural elements—vines, flowers, that kind of thing. I’m uh, pretty choosy.”

Izzy nodded, appreciating his thoroughness. A sleeve was a major commitment, and she respected clients who took the time to think through what they wanted. “Sounds like you’ve got a pretty clear idea,” she said, jotting down the details. “How did you hear about us?”

“A friend recommended you,” Aleks said, his tone casual. “Kamaria. She said you did an amazing job with her thigh piece.”

Izzy’s face lit up with recognition. Kamaria was a gnoll woman she’d worked with several months ago, who’d wanted a waterfall thigh piece. The memory of those long hours spent inking intricate patterns onto Kamaria’s furred arm brought a smile to Izzy’s face.

“Ah, Kamaria! She was a great client. I’m glad she sent you my way,” Izzy said, feeling a sense of pride. “Alright, let’s get you booked in for a consultation. When works for you?”

Aleks glanced around the studio, his violet eyes taking in the space with quiet interest. “Is there any chance you’re free now?”

Izzy looked at her schedule. The day had been relatively quiet, and her next appointment wasn’t for another hour. “Actually, you’re in luck. I can fit you in now if you’ve got the time.”

He smiled again, that same subtle curve of his lips that made Izzy’s heart skip a beat. “I’ve got time.”

“Great, let’s head over to the consultation area,” Izzy said, leading him to a cosy corner of the studio where a couple of plush chairs sat next to a table scattered with design books and sketches. 

Aleks moved with that same effortless grace as he followed her, and Izzy found herself more intrigued by the second. There was a calm, almost ethereal quality about him, as if he belonged to a different world entirely.

They sat down, and Izzy pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, ready to sketch as Aleks described his vision. “Alright, tell me more about what you’re thinking.”

Aleks leaned forward slightly, his intense eyes meeting hers. “I want a sleeve that feels like it’s a part of me,” he began, his voice low and steady. “I’ve always felt at home in nature, you know?”

She smiled. “I get you. So, what exactly are you thinking?”

Izzy listened intently, her pencil moving across the paper as she began to sketch out the elements he described. She could tell that this tattoo meant a great deal to him, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I like the idea,” Izzy said after a moment, glancing up from her sketch. “It’s going to be intricate, but I think we can create something really special. This will be a multi-session piece, though—it’ll take time to get all the details just right, and a sleeve is hard work.”

Aleks nodded, his gaze never wavering. “I’m not in a rush. I want it done right.”

There was a sincerity in his tone that resonated with Izzy. She felt a strong urge to bring his vision to life, to create something that would truly reflect the person sitting before her. “Alright,” she said, finishing the rough sketch and turning it towards him. “Here’s a very basic outline. We can refine the details as we go, but does this look like what you had in mind?”

Aleks studied the sketch for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, he looked up at her, and for the first time since he’d walked in, his smile reached his eyes, softening their intensity. “It’s exactly what I had in mind. Thank you, Izzy.”

The warmth in his voice took her by surprise, and she felt a blush creeping up her neck. “No problem,” she said, busying herself with gathering the sketches. “I’m looking forward to working on this with you.”

They set a date for the first session, and as Aleks stood to leave, Izzy found herself reluctant to let the moment end. There was something about him that intrigued her in a way no client had before.

“Book an appointment with Ceth at the front,” Izzy said softly. “He’ll keep you right.”

“Thanks. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

She watched him leave, the door closing softly behind him, and couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something much more than just a tattoo. As she turned back to her sketchpad, she felt a thrill of anticipation, wondering what the next session would bring.

***

Two weeks passed quickly, though Izzy found herself thinking about Aleks more often than she liked to admit. Something about him lingered in her mind—those intense violet eyes, the way he moved, that strange, shifting quality in his skin. She pushed the thoughts aside, telling herself it was just the usual curiosity that came with meeting an interesting new client.

When Aleks walked into Ink Envy for his first tattoo session, Izzy almost didn’t recognise him. His sleek, black hair, which had fallen past his shoulders during their consultation, was now cropped short, barely grazing his ears. The new style accentuated the sharp angles of his face, and he was stunning.

Izzy raised an eyebrow as she set down her sketchpad. “New look?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

Aleks smiled, that same enigmatic smile that had caught her off guard the first time they met. “Yeah, thought I’d try something different.”

Izzy waved off his concern, though the change did throw her a little. “It suits you.”

She led him over to the chair, her mind racing. He looked different, more so than just a hair change. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she was missing, but she pushed the thought aside as she focused on her work. Tattoos required precision, and she needed to be fully present.

“Alright, let’s get you prepped,” she said, slipping into her professional mode. She handed Aleks a form to sign and gave him the usual run-down—how the session would go, aftercare instructions, and a few tips to make the process as smooth as possible. 

He listened quietly, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt a flicker of nerves under his intense gaze. Izzy was used to being the one in control, guiding her clients through the process, but something about Aleks made her feel like he was the one holding the reins.

Once the formalities were out of the way, she snapped on a pair of gloves and began prepping his arm. She carefully shaved the area where the tattoo would go, her hands moving with practiced ease. His skin was just as smooth as she remembered, but this time she could see the muscles beneath, lean and defined. She disinfected the area, the scent of antiseptic mixing with the faint smell of his cologne—a warm, woody fragrance that was surprisingly pleasant.

“Let me just get the stencil on,” she murmured, focusing on the task at hand. She positioned the stencil with care, making sure the vines and geometric patterns lined up perfectly with the natural contours of his arm. It was a complex design, one that required precision, but she felt a thrill of excitement as she imagined how it would look when finished.

Aleks watched her work, his expression calm and composed. There was no sign of nerves, no fidgeting or anxious glances at the needle, just a quiet confidence that made Izzy feel like she was the one being scrutinised. She pressed the stencil down, smoothing it over his skin before peeling it back to reveal the ink outline.

“Take a look,” she said, stepping back to give him space to inspect it.

Aleks glanced down at his arm, his expression unreadable as he studied the design. After a moment, he looked up and gave her a nod. “Looks perfect.”

Izzy felt a flutter of satisfaction at his approval. “Alright then,” she said, her voice steady as she positioned herself beside him. “Ready to get started?”

He nodded again, settling back in the chair with that same easy grace she’d noticed before. Izzy took a deep breath and picked up the tattoo machine, the familiar buzz filling the air as it came to life. She leaned in close, her world narrowing to the point where the needle met his skin.

“So, is this your first tattoo?” she asked, her voice light as she began the first stroke.

“Yes,” Aleks replied, his tone as calm as ever.

Izzy glanced up in surprise. “Really? You don’t seem nervous at all.”

He shrugged slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I have a high pain tolerance.”

Izzy chuckled, but there was a part of her that was genuinely amazed. Most first-timers flinched or tensed up at the initial sting of the needle, but Aleks didn’t so much as twitch. His expression remained composed, almost serene, as she worked. 

She continued inking the delicate vines onto his skin, her hands moving with careful precision. But as the session wore on, Izzy couldn’t help but notice how unusually still he remained. Even experienced clients would shift or fidget after a while, but Aleks sat as though he were carved from stone, his face betraying no discomfort at all.

The hours passed quickly, the design beginning to take shape as Izzy lost herself in the rhythm of her work. The vines twisted and curled around his arm, flowers blooming in the empty space. She paused occasionally to check his comfort, but Aleks always reassured her with a quiet nod or a calm smile.

“Still doing alright?” she asked, finally stepping back to wipe down his arm and get a better look at the progress.

“Never better,” he replied, his voice warm and untroubled.

Izzy shook her head in disbelief. “You’re a natural. Most people would be at least grimacing by now.”

Aleks’s smile widened slightly. “I guess I’m just built differently.”

She laughed, though his words stayed with her. There was something about the way he said it that made her wonder if he meant more than what was on the surface. As she looked at the intricate design now covering his forearm, she pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the satisfaction of seeing the tattoo come to life.

By the time the session wrapped up, the initial outline was complete. Izzy stepped back, wiping her brow and admiring her handiwork. The tattoo was still in its early stages, but already she could see how it would come together in the next few sessions. It was a beautiful design, one that she felt proud of—and one that seemed to suit Aleks perfectly.

“All done for today,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of reluctance as she began cleaning up. “We’ll need a few more sessions to finish, but it’s looking good so far.”

Aleks examined the tattoo in the mirror, his expression thoughtful. “It’s perfect so far.”

She felt that same warmth creeping up her neck, but she masked it with a smile. “Glad you’re happy with it. You’re handling this like a pro.”

He met her gaze, those violet eyes holding hers for a moment longer than necessary. “I trust you,” he said simply, and the sincerity in his voice left her momentarily speechless.

Izzy watched as Aleks made his way to the door, the soft click of the latch as it closed behind him echoing in the quiet studio. His words lingered in her mind, reverberating with a strange sense of weight. 

I trust you.

He had said it so simply, yet there was something profound in the way he’d looked at her, those violet eyes filled with an intensity that had momentarily left her breathless.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, a mixture of curiosity and something else—something she couldn’t quite name—churning in her chest. The studio, which had felt charged with energy during the session, now seemed unnaturally quiet. The buzz of the tattoo machine was long gone, replaced by the faint hum of the overhead lights and the distant sounds of the city outside.

Izzy shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she turned back to her station, methodically cleaning up. Her hands moved on autopilot, wiping down the surfaces, capping the inks, and sterilising the equipment. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the session in her head—Aleks’s steady composure, his barely-there reactions to the needle, and that odd sensation she’d felt when his gaze had lingered on hers.

The back door creaked open, and Izzy glanced up to see Ceth, Ink Envy’s orc receptionist, emerging from the storeroom. He was a big guy—towering, with greenish-grey skin and tusks that jutted out from his lower jaw. Despite his intimidating appearance, Ceth had a soft heart and a knack for keeping things running smoothly. He carried a couple of boxes under one arm, his other hand gripping a clipboard as he made notes in his looping, precise script.

He looked up from the clipboard, his brows furrowing as he noticed Izzy standing by her station, seemingly lost in thought. “Was that your new client?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet room.

Izzy nodded, flashing a smile as she wiped down the last of her tools. “Yeah, that was him. Just finished the first session.”

Ceth grunted, setting the boxes down on the counter with a thud. “He’s… odd,” he said, his tone cautious, as if he were testing out the word. He leaned against the counter. “Very quiet.”

Izzy couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Ceth’s nose wrinkled, his tusks twitching slightly in a gesture she’d come to recognise as his version of suspicion. “Odd? Ceth, have you looked at yourself lately?” she teased, grinning up at him. “Odd is kind of our thing around here.”

Ceth’s eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, well, there’s odd, and then there’s… whatever that is. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me. Too perfect, you know?”

Izzy paused, her grin fading slightly as she considered Ceth’s words. Perfect was definitely a word she’d thought of herself, but it had been accompanied by a strange sense of unease. Aleks had an aura about him—something polished and refined, yet almost too much so. Like he was a character out of a story, crafted with care but missing the rough edges that made people real.

She shrugged, trying to shake off the lingering doubts. “He’s harmless, Ceth. Just a bit… different.” She leaned against the counter, her wild curls brushing her shoulders as she looked up at him. “I mean, aren’t we all?”

Ceth’s eyes softened, and he let out a rumbling chuckle. “Suppose you’re right, Izzy. Still… just keep an eye on him, yeah?”

“Always do,” she replied, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Besides, I think it’s kinda nice to have a client who isn’t flinching every five seconds.”

Ceth chuckled again, though it was tinged with that same caution. He picked up his clipboard, his massive hands making it look like a toy as he flipped through the pages. “Guess we’ll see how it goes. Just don’t get too caught up in those pretty eyes of his, alright?”

Izzy laughed, a light sound that helped dispel the tension that had settled in her chest. “Don’t worry, Ceth. I know how to keep my head.”

As she finished cleaning up, Ceth’s words echoed in her mind. There was something about Aleks that wasn’t quite right, something she couldn’t put her finger on. For now, she brushed it off. After all, she had a job to do, and Aleks was just another client.

Right?

***

Izzy sat at her station, adjusting her gloves as Aleks settled into the chair for their latest session. The tattoo was now halfway complete, and the colour was starting to look good. 

The design had come together beautifully, far beyond what Izzy had initially imagined. Each session revealed more of its complexity, and it seemed to resonate with Aleks in a way that felt almost… personal.

As she prepped her tools, she noticed once again how Aleks had changed since their first meeting. His hair had grown back, longer now, though not quite as long as it had been originally. There were subtle differences in his appearance that she couldn’t quite pinpoint—his skin seemed smoother, his features a bit sharper, more refined. Like he’d lost weight, except only in his face. Every time she saw him, it was like looking at a slightly different version of the man she’d met weeks ago.

“Alright, we’re about halfway there,” she said, tearing herself from her thoughts; and breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “How’s it feeling so far?”

Aleks smiled, the kind of smile that had grown familiar to Izzy but still made her heart skip a beat. “It’s been good. I hardly notice the pain anymore.”

Izzy chuckled softly as she positioned herself beside him. “You say that like you noticed it in the first place. You’re still the calmest client I’ve ever had.”

He shrugged, the movement so fluid it was almost unnatural. “I guess I’m just good at handling it.”

As she began working, the buzz of the tattoo machine filling the room, Izzy decided to push a little further into the quiet mystery that was Aleks. Over the past few sessions, their conversations had gradually become more personal, though Aleks always kept certain details close to the chest.

“So,” Izzy said casually, her focus on the delicate lines she was inking, “you mentioned before that you’re a traveller. What kind of places have you been to?”

Aleks hesitated, just for a moment, before he spoke. “Here and there. A lot of places you probably wouldn’t have heard of.” There was a wistfulness to his voice, as if he was talking about something far away, both in distance and in time.

Izzy glanced up briefly, catching his eyes with hers. “Try me. I’m always curious about new places.”

His violet eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place—a mix of emotions that passed too quickly for her to decipher. “There’s a place… a city of floating gardens.”

Izzy paused, her hand stilling for a moment as she processed what he’d just said. “That sounds… incredible. Definitely not anywhere I’ve heard of.”

Aleks’s smile was faint, almost sad. “It’s… far from here.”

The way he said it made Izzy’s chest tighten, as though he were talking about a place he could never return to. She wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into this strange and beautiful world he was describing, but something held her back. Instead, she simply nodded, her fingers resuming their work with the needle.

As the hours passed, the tattoo continued to evolve, the vines seeming to pulse with life, the geometric patterns aligning perfectly with the natural curves of Aleks’s arm. The room was quiet save for the hum of the tattoo machine and their occasional conversations, but there was a sense of intimacy that had developed between them.

At one point, Izzy glanced up from her work and found herself momentarily stunned. Aleks’s face had shifted—just for a split second, but enough to leave her breathless. His features seemed to shimmer, the sharp angles softening, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. His skin took on a luminous quality, as if he were made of something more than flesh and bone.

Izzy blinked, her breath catching in her throat. As quickly as it had happened, the vision was gone. Aleks’s face returned to the familiar, handsome features she had grown accustomed to, his expression calm and serene as if nothing had changed.

“Is everything alright?” Aleks asked, his voice gentle, though there was a note of concern in it.

Izzy realised she had stopped tattooing, her hand frozen in place. She quickly resumed her work, shaking off the moment of shock. “Yeah, sorry. I just… thought I saw something.”

Aleks tilted his head slightly, studying her with those intense violet eyes. “Saw something?”

Izzy hesitated, unsure how to explain what she had just witnessed. “It’s nothing. Probably just my eyes playing tricks on me. I need to close the blinds.”

He didn’t press further, but there was a knowing look in his gaze that made her wonder if he knew exactly what she had seen. The rest of the session passed in relative silence, though the atmosphere between them had shifted slightly—still comfortable, but with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

When the session finally ended, Izzy wiped down his arm and stepped back to admire the progress. The tattoo was coming together beautifully, the design now wrapping around his bicep and creeping towards his shoulder. As she looked at it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just ink on skin. It felt alive, like it was part of Aleks, growing and changing with him.

“All done for today,” she said, her voice steady despite thoughts swirling in her mind.

Aleks examined the tattoo in the mirror, his expression unreadable. “It’s coming along great.”

She smiled, though her heart wasn’t in it. “Glad you think so.”

As Aleks stood and prepared to leave, Izzy found herself watching him more closely, searching for any sign of the change she’d seen earlier. He looked the same as always—handsome, calm, and impossibly perfect.

“I’ll see you for the next session,” he said, his voice soft but steady. There was an intensity in his gaze that made Izzy’s heart skip a beat, a sense that he was saying more than just goodbye.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “See you then.”

As Aleks walked out the door, Izzy let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. The studio was quiet once more, but the echoes of their conversation and the strange vision she’d witnessed lingered in the air.

***

The atmosphere in Ink Envy was different today. The familiar hum of the tattoo machine was the same, as was the steady rhythm of Izzy’s hands, but there was an underlying tension in the air that made her stomach churn with unease. Aleks sat in the chair, as he had done for each session before, but this time, something was off.

He had always been quiet, reserved even, but today he seemed almost distant, as if his mind was somewhere far away. His usual calm composure had a brittle edge to it, a certain impatience that hadn’t been there before. It was as though he couldn’t wait for the session to be over and to leave. The thought made Izzy’s chest tighten with a pang of something she didn’t want to name—disappointment, maybe, or something more painful.

She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the tattoo, which was nearly complete. The vines had climbed all the way up his arm, now reaching across his shoulder. It was a beautiful piece, one she was proud of, but today, even the joy of creation was tinged with melancholy.

Aleks had barely spoken since he walked in, and every attempt Izzy made at conversation seemed to fall flat. His replies were monosyllabic, his eyes distant, as if he were counting down the minutes until he could walk out the door. It shouldn’t have mattered—it was just business, after all—but it did. It mattered more than Izzy wanted to admit.

“Almost there,” she murmured, her voice carefully neutral as she worked on the final details. The session was dragging on longer than usual, and with each passing minute, the distance between them seemed to grow. “How’re you holding up?”

Aleks didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was flat, devoid of the warmth she had come to enjoy. “Fine. Just… ready for this to be done.”

The words were like a slap in the face, and Izzy felt her heart sink. She forced a smile, though it felt brittle. “Yeah, I can tell you’re eager to finish up. You’ve been a real trooper through all of this.”

She waited for the usual smile, the small flicker of amusement that would light up his violet eyes, but it didn’t come. Instead, Aleks remained stoic, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of the studio. It was as if he was no longer really there with her, and the thought made Izzy’s hands tremble, just slightly, as she continued to work.

It wasn’t until she was nearly done that she noticed something else—something that made her pause. Aleks was flinching, just the tiniest bit, each time the needle touched his skin. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but to Izzy, it was as if the earth had shifted beneath her feet.

She frowned, glancing up at him. “You okay? Seems like your pain tolerance is finally catching up with you.”

Aleks didn’t respond, and when he did flinch again, something strange happened. His skin shimmered, just for a second, like the surface of water disturbed by a breeze. Izzy’s heart skipped a beat, her hands freezing in place.

“Aleks?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. “Are you—”

Before she could finish the question, Aleks suddenly pulled away, his movements jerky, almost panicked. His hand flew to his shoulder, covering the fresh ink as though he could stop whatever was happening beneath his skin. His eyes, wide and filled with something she hadn’t seen before—fear, maybe—flickered towards her.

“I—I need a minute,” he stammered, his voice breaking the calm façade he had maintained for so long. Without another word, he stood up, nearly stumbling in his haste as he rushed towards the back of the studio.

Izzy watched, stunned, as Aleks disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing with a heavy thud. The studio fell into an uneasy silence, the only sound the faint buzzing of the tattoo machine that she hadn’t turned off.

For a moment, she stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the closed bathroom door. What had she seen? His skin had shimmered, and then Aleks had looked at her with such fear, such raw vulnerability, that it had sent a shiver down her spine. Something was wrong—deeply wrong—and it gnawed at her to leave him in there alone. What if he needed space? 

She switched off the machine, the sudden absence of its hum making the silence even more oppressive. Izzy took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She gave him a few minutes, hoping he’d come out on his own, but the seconds ticked by with no sign of Aleks. The uneasy quiet stretched on, and the anxiety that had settled in her chest only grew heavier.

Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. Izzy crossed the room to the bathroom door, her steps slow and measured, as if any sudden movement might shatter the fragile calm. She knocked softly at first, her knuckles brushing the wood.

“Aleks?” she called, her voice gentle but laced with concern. There was no answer, only the hollow echo of her knock bouncing back at her. She hesitated, then knocked again, a little louder this time. “Aleks, are you okay? You can’t hide in there forever.”

Still, there was no response. The silence on the other side of the door was deafening, and a cold dread crept up Izzy’s spine. What was he doing in there? Was he hurt? Was something worse happening?

“Aleks,” she tried again, her tone more insistent. “Do you need some water? Are you feeling faint?” She pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear any sound, but there was nothing. “Come on, talk to me. Please.”

The quiet stretched on, and just when she was about to knock again, she heard it—his voice, low and strained, barely more than a whisper. “Go away, Izzy.”

Her heart clenched at the sound of his voice, so unlike the calm, controlled tone she was used to. “I’m not leaving,” she said firmly, pressing her palm against the door as if she could reach through it to him. “Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to go through it alone. Let me help you.”

For a long moment, there was no response, and Izzy wondered if he would simply ignore her until she had no choice but to walk away. Then, she heard a soft, almost defeated sigh from the other side of the door.

“Please, Izzy,” he said, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite identify—fear, maybe, or despair. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Then help me understand, Aleks. I’m not going anywhere. Open the door. Nobody else is here.”

The silence that followed was agonising, but Izzy stood firm, her hand still pressed against the door as if she could somehow reassure him through the wood. She could feel the seconds ticking by, each one heavier than the last, until finally, she heard the soft click of the lock turning.

The door creaked open, just a crack at first, and then slowly, reluctantly, it swung wide enough for Izzy to see Aleks standing in the doorway. Except… it wasn’t Aleks. Not the Aleks she knew, anyway.

What stood before her was something otherworldly, something both beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. His skin, once smooth and human, now shimmered with an ethereal light, a soft glow that pulsed like a heartbeat beneath the surface. It had taken on a silvery hue, translucent in places. His violet eyes, the one feature that remained the same, had deepened in colour, glowing with an intensity that seemed to pierce through her. His features were sharper, more angular, with high cheekbones and a jawline that could have been carved from glass.

There was an alien quality to him now, something that was… inhuman.

Izzy’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was seeing. He wasn’t an orc, or a tiefling, or any other creature she had ever encountered. He was something else entirely—something far more ancient, far more dangerous. Yet, even in his inhuman form, there was a strange, haunting beauty to him that left her speechless.

“Aleks…” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. She didn’t know what to say, what to ask. How could she? She didn’t even know what she was looking at.

He flinched at the sound of his name, as if it pained him, and turned his gaze away from her, his shoulders sagging with a weight she couldn’t see. “This is why I didn’t want you to see me,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a sorrow that pierced her heart. “This is what I really am.”

Izzy took a tentative step forward, her hand reaching out instinctively before she stopped herself. She didn’t know if she should touch him—if she even could. “Aleks,” she said again, more firmly this time, though her voice still trembled. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

His eyes, those brilliant, glowing eyes, flicked back to hers, and for a moment, there was something vulnerable in them, something that made her heart ache. Then he shook his head, stepping back into the shadows of the bathroom, the light dimming around him.

The door began to close, shutting her out, shutting himself away.

Izzy wasn’t about to let that happen.

Before Aleks could close the door completely, she stepped forward, slipping into the small, dim space with him and turning the lock behind her. The click of the lock was quiet but final, leaving them both standing there in the darkness, the tension thick between them.

Aleks turned to her in surprise, his eyes wide and glowing faintly in the low light. His skin, now fully illuminated by its own strange, ethereal light, cast a soft glow across the cramped bathroom. The air seemed to hum with the energy that radiated off him, a soft, pulsing light that shifted and moved across his skin, like moonlight dancing on water.

Izzy took a slow, steadying breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside her. The small bathroom was bathed in a soft, silvery glow that came entirely from him, and it took her a moment to realise something that made her smile despite the situation.

“You know,” she said, her voice softer than usual but carrying a note of humour, “you’ve been standing here in the dark this whole time. The lights are off.”

Aleks blinked, clearly startled by the observation, and then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was hesitant, almost shy, but it was there, and it was enough to make Izzy’s heart skip a beat.

“I guess I have,” he murmured, a hint of warmth returning to his voice. The glow from his skin flickered slightly, as if in response to his emotions.

Izzy felt a rush of relief at seeing that smile, however fleeting it was. It gave her the courage to take a step closer, her gaze steady as she looked at him—really looked at him. “Aleks,” she said softly, her voice filled with a gentle determination, “please let me see you. The real you. No hiding.”

He hesitated, his luminous eyes searching hers, as if looking for something he couldn’t quite find. “Izzy, I don’t… I don’t want to scare you. This isn’t… this isn’t what you think it is.”

Izzy shook her head, her curls brushing against her shoulders. “You’re not scaring me. Yeah, I was shocked at first, but that’s normal, right? I just need a moment to process.” She reached out slowly, giving him time to pull away, but he didn’t. Her hand found his, and she squeezed gently. “Let me see you. Really see you.”

For a long moment, Aleks didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at her with those otherworldly eyes, his expression a mix of fear and uncertainty. Then, with a shaky breath, he nodded. “Okay.”

Izzy released his hand, her breath catching as she took a step back, giving him space. Aleks closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. When he opened them again, the glow from his skin intensified, filling the room with a soft, pulsing light that seemed to reflect the steady beat of his heart.

He stepped fully into the light, and for the first time, Izzy saw him completely—his true form, unmasked and unhidden. He was breathtaking, in a way that was both beautiful and unsettling. 

His hair, now a cascade of silver threads, framed his face like a halo, and his eyes… those eyes were the most stunning thing she had ever seen.

Aleks shifted under her gaze, his expression guarded. “This is what I am, Izzy,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. “Not the man you thought you knew. Just… this.”

Izzy shook her head, stepping closer to him again, her eyes softening as she took in the full picture. “You’re still you, Aleks. This doesn’t change that.”

He looked at her, incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “I’m not… I’m not human, Izzy. I’ve been lying to you this whole time.”

“Ceth’s not human either, and I’m not an orc. You don’t see us holding it against each other. Why would I hold this against you?”

He shrugged, small and nervous.

She reached out, her hand hovering over his arm before she gently rested it against his shimmering skin. It was warm, softer than she had expected, and the patterns beneath the surface shifted under her touch, like ripples in water. “You might not be human, but you’ve never lied to me. I don’t know what you are, but I know who you are.”

His breath hitched, and he looked down at her hand on his arm, the vulnerability in his eyes more palpable than ever. “You really mean that?”

Izzy nodded, her heart swelling with a strange mixture of tenderness and protectiveness. “I do, Aleks. You’re beautiful. You’re… incredible. I just wish you could see that.”

For a moment, Aleks said nothing, his gaze locked on hers, as if he were searching for the truth in her words. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he reached up to cup her cheek, his touch so light it was almost a caress.

“Beautiful?” he echoed, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “No one’s ever… No one’s ever said that before.”

Izzy leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. “Well, they should have,” she whispered back, her voice filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. “Because you are.”

Something shifted in Aleks then, the tension in his shoulders easing, the light in his eyes softening. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them until she could feel the warmth of his body.

“Izzy,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and uncertainty. He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, and for a moment, they just stood there, breathing in each other’s presence, the connection between them stronger than it had ever been.

Izzy closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the moment, in the warmth of his touch, in the way his breath mingled with hers. She didn’t know what this meant, didn’t know what the future held for them, but right now, none of that mattered.

Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, Aleks tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against hers in the lightest of touches. Izzy’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat as she realised what was happening. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into the kiss, her hand tightening on his arm as she pressed closer to him.

The kiss was soft, tentative, as if neither of them could quite believe it was real. There was a tenderness to it, a sense of something unspoken passing between them. Aleks’s lips were warm, soft.

When they finally pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Aleks stared at her with wide eyes, his expression filled with wonder and something that looked very much like hope.

“Izzy,” he whispered, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

She smiled up at him, her heart full, her fears and doubts melting away in the glow of his light. “Then don’t say anything,” she murmured, leaning in to rest her forehead against his again.

For a few precious moments, Izzy and Aleks stood there in the dim light of the bathroom, their foreheads resting together, breathing in unison. The glow from his skin, once so intense and otherworldly, began to fade, the silvery light slowly dimming until it was almost gone. Izzy could feel the warmth of his body against hers, the soft pulse of his breath, but when she opened her eyes, she was greeted not by the ethereal, glowing being she had just kissed, but by the familiar face of the man she had grown to care for.

Aleks’s features had softened back to their human form—his skin no longer shimmered with that eerie, beautiful light, and his hair was once again black and straight, falling just shy of his shoulders. His eyes, though still a striking violet, had lost that otherworldly glow, returning to the deep, intense gaze that had captivated her from the beginning.

Izzy couldn’t help the slight pang of disappointment that tugged at her heart. There was something so mesmerizing, so raw and real, about his true form, and now it felt as if it had slipped away, leaving only the familiar shell of the man she thought she knew. As she looked up at him, at the Aleks she had kissed, she knew that the essence of who he was—whatever he was—hadn’t disappeared. It was still there, in the warmth of his gaze, in the softness of his touch.

She smiled gently, her hand still resting on his arm. “Looks like you’re back,” she whispered, her voice laced with both relief and a touch of regret.

Aleks blinked, as if coming back to himself, and let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like that… I just couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

Izzy shook her head, her thumb brushing over his skin in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t apologise. I’m glad I saw the real you, Aleks; but we should probably get out of here.” She let out a small, breathy laugh. “Can’t hide in the bathroom forever.”

He managed a faint smile, a ghost of the warmth she had felt earlier. “Yeah… you’re right.”

With a soft sigh, Izzy unlocked the door and stepped out of the bathroom, coaxing Aleks to follow her back into the studio. The normalcy of the familiar space felt almost jarring after what had just happened, but she knew they couldn’t stay hidden away any longer. The tattoo needed to be finished, and life had to go on.

She changed her gloves, the simple ritual grounding her as she prepared to finish the work they’d started. Aleks sat back in the chair, his eyes still a little distant, but there was a new softness to his expression, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. Izzy could see the way his shoulders had relaxed slightly, the tension that had coiled tight around him for so long finally beginning to ease.

As she picked up the tattoo machine and began working again, the steady buzz filled the room, offering a comforting familiarity. Aleks remained silent, but this time, the quiet between them wasn’t heavy or strained. It was peaceful, almost tender, as if they had reached an unspoken understanding.

With each stroke of the needle, the tattoo grew more complete, the vines and patterns intertwining seamlessly with Aleks’s skin. Izzy was meticulous, her focus entirely on the work, but her mind kept circling back to what she had seen, what she had felt. The way his body had shifted, the way he had looked at her with those glowing eyes, filled with so much uncertainty and fear.

And then it struck her, a sudden clarity that made her pause, the needle hovering just above his skin. His body was inconstant, always shifting, always changing—an existence that must have felt like he could never hold onto anything permanent, anything real. This tattoo… it would never change. No matter what form he took, no matter how his body shifted, the tattoo would remain the same, a fixed point in the midst of all that uncertainty.

Izzy glanced up at him, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. “This is why you wanted the tattoo, isn’t it?” she asked softly, the realisation dawning on her. “Because it’s something that won’t change. Something you can hold onto.”

Aleks’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, he looked like he might deny it, but then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low, almost defeated. “I just… I needed something that was mine. Something that wouldn’t shift or fade away.”

Izzy’s chest tightened with a surge of affection for him, and she felt the urge to reach out and touch him, to reassure him that she understood, that she was here. Instead, she smiled, her voice soft and full of warmth. “Well, you’ve got it now. It’s yours forever.”

He looked at her, something softening in his gaze, and for the first time, he seemed to truly believe her. “Thank you.”

She finished the last few strokes of the tattoo with her usual care, but there was something different in the air now—something tender, something unspoken but deeply understood between them. When she finally set the machine down and wiped away the last traces of ink, she took a step back, admiring the work.

“There,” she said, her voice filled with quiet pride. “All done.”

Aleks looked down at his arm, his eyes tracing the intricate design that now covered his skin. The vines and patterns seemed to pulse with life, as if they were truly a part of him, and he nodded slowly, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “It’s perfect.”

Izzy’s heart swelled at the sight of his smile, the first real smile she’d seen from him all day, and she knew that whatever had happened, whatever would come next, they had both found something they needed. Something permanent, something real.

As Aleks stood, pulling on his shirt with care, he glanced at her, his expression a mix of gratitude and something deeper. “I don’t know what happens next,” he said quietly, his voice filled with an honesty that made Izzy’s heart ache. “I’m glad… I’m glad I found you.”

Izzy reached out, her hand finding his, and she squeezed gently, her eyes shining with a warmth she didn’t try to hide. “Me too.”

For a moment, they just stood there, hand in hand, the silence between them no longer awkward or tense but full of possibility. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they both leaned in at the same time, their lips meeting in a soft kiss.

When they finally pulled back, Aleks looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart flutter, and Izzy knew that whatever uncertainties lay ahead, they had found something special here—something worth holding onto.

[bahngray]

Love, Unscripted

This work is for a mature audience.

Chapter 1 : Crossing the Line

It's unusual. She's here today. Her brown eyes glowed in the soft sunlight, her hair in a messy bun with thin strands falling delicately down her neck.

She's here today. Her smile is even brighter than usual, the kind that feels warm and effortless. The subtle dimples you can catch if you look closely right around her mouth, as though they’re meant to be noticed only by those who care enough to look.

She's here. And for a moment, the world feels lighter.

-

[sighs] Me: "Why are you always here?"

[grins] Him: "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know they treated customers here like this"

Me: "Well, someone like you can't be called a customer. You are an intruder. Now, if you'll kindly get lost and let me finish my work"

[clutching his chest mockingly]

Him: "Jeez, that hurt. But, I'm just here for a book and I need help finding it so..."

[crosses her arm]

Me: "Ughhh. Do you even read the books? All I see you doing is just sitting there with the book in your hand and staring at people"

[raises an eyebrow]

Him: "Wow, you call me an intruder but I can see your the stalker type, huh"

[rolls her eyes]

Me: "Fine, but this is the last time I'm helping you find a book"

[smirks] Him: "You said that last week"

[grabs a book from the shelf and shoves it into his hand]

Me: "Here. Take this and go sit in your usual spot. And if I catch you staring again, I'll call security"

[laughs as he walks off]

Him: "You love having me around, admit it"

[muttering to herself]

Me:"I'm calling security next time"

-

[grinning...]

Me: "What?"

Jules: "So you're going?"

Me: "Sweetie, I already told you I don't do dates. It's awkward, and boys are gross, and I already have enough on my plate. I don't need boy trouble"

Jules: "Oh, come on what if this guy is different? What if this guy is someone who you can finally feel the spark with? And most importantly what if this guy is someone who actually makes you put your phone down?"

[laughs]

Me: "Very funny. And what if he's a total weirdo who talks about himself all the time or chews with his mouth open?"

Jules: "Then you can pull a fake emergency and call me to bail you out. But, seriously, Serene, when's the last time you did something spontaneous?"

[sighs]

Me: "What if he thinks we are soulmates and I just want to smack him across his face to get that nasty grin off?"

[laughs]

Jules: "Sounds like a you problem. But, what if, just what if, he's an amazing guy?"

Me: "Why do you always have to manipulate me like this?"

Jules: "Because I'm your best friend."

[finally smiles]

Me: "Fine, but if this turns out to be a disaster I'm making you pay for it through the worst rom-com marathon I can find"

Jules: "Deal. Now let's find out your outfit"

-

Serene's POV

Jules was right. It had been too long since I had done something spontaneous—something that wasn’t carefully planned, something that wasn’t me. And as much as a part of me wanted to dive in, to take that leap, there was another part that wanted to turn around and run as far away as possible.

When I lay in bed at night, the silence felt heavier than usual. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, loud and steady, like it was trying to remind me of what was coming. And if someone had asked, I would’ve sworn—without a shadow of a doubt—that whatever was waiting for me had stirred something deep inside me.

It wasn’t just nerves. It was the kind of feeling that sat in your gut and refused to leave. An unsettling mix of excitement and dread, like standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure if the fall would end in flight or a crash.

-

The Next Day

Picking an outfit wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be—not with Jules around. The moment I said yes, she had already mapped out every detail, from the dress to the shoes, even down to the earrings I should wear. She’d handed me a brush and practically ordered me to let my hair fall in soft curls, and for makeup? “Just enough to make him wonder if you woke up looking like this,” she had said with a wink.

Before heading out, I double-checked everything—keys, purse, lipstick—and then, just to be sure, I sent a quick text to my date.

—

Me: Hi, I’m Serene. Did you reach the restaurant yet?

—

I set my phone down, ready to slip it into my purse when it buzzed almost immediately.

—

Him: Hey, Serene! Yeah, I’m here. I’ll arrange a table for us while you get here. Take your time.

—

I stared at the screen, rereading the message more times than I’d admit. My heart fluttered—not the kind of nervous pounding I’d felt last night, but something gentler. Softer. Like butterflies stirred awake and started dancing inside me.

Grabbing my things, I stepped outside, flagged down a cab, and told the driver the restaurant’s name. The whole ride there, I couldn’t help but wonder what this night had in store for me.

-

Five minutes had passed, but I still couldn’t bring myself to step inside.

"Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Good. Inhale. Exhale."

I clutched the tiny mirror in my hand, giving myself one last look. Hair? Fine. Makeup? Fine. Dress? Perfect—or at least Jules swore it was. With one final sigh, I shoved the mirror back into my purse and straightened my shoulders. It was now or never.

Pushing open the door, I was greeted by the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. The warm orange lighting made the space feel private and intimate, the buttery smell of freshly baked bread filling the air. Somewhere, light jingles played, and it hit me—it was that time of year. The holidays. No wonder everything felt so warm and inviting.

Slipping my phone out, I typed quickly:

—

Me: I’m here. Where are you?

—

I lowered my phone and glanced around. The tables were full—mostly groups chatting and laughing—but no sign of anyone who looked like they were expecting a blind date.

Then I felt it—a tap on my shoulder.

I turned, and my jaw dropped.

No. No, no, no. This has got to be a joke. There’s no way on earth he is my date tonight. Why is the universe so cruel?

Him: [grinning] "Now that expression on your face really sucks because it makes me think you definitely regret this."

Me: [gritting my teeth] "And you’re right. I do."

Him: [mocking a hurt expression] "Oh, come on. I may not be your favorite customer, but I promise I’ll be your best date." [winks and offers his hand]

My instincts screamed to run. I could bolt out the door and never look back. But then I thought about Jules. About being spontaneous. About taking chances.

This didn’t have to mean anything. After all, we weren’t getting married. It was just one date—one evening—and then I could go back to my predictable, carefully planned life.

Before my brain could catch up with my body, I placed my hand slowly in his.

His grin widened as he lifted it, brushing a featherlight kiss over my knuckles.

Him: "Shall we?"

And just like that, he led us to the table, leaving me wondering whether this night would be the disaster I feared—or the adventure I needed.

-

A cozy corner of the restaurant. The table is lit by a small candle, and the soft glow makes everything feel warmer. The sound of clinking glasses and quiet chatter fills the space.

Serene and her blind date sit across from each other, their drinks already served. Serene fidgets with the edge of her napkin, while her date leans back in his chair, clearly more at ease.

Him: [grinning] "You’re staring."

Serene: [snapping out of it] "What? No, I’m not!"

Him: [teasing] "You totally are. But it’s fine—I’d stare at me too."

Serene: [rolling her eyes, but smiling] "Wow. Confident, are we?"

Him: [shrugging] "I like to think of it as... observant."

Serene: [mocking] "Sure. Observant. Is that what you do? Observe people for a living?"

Him: "I could. But then I’d probably get arrested for being creepy, so no."

Serene: [laughs] "Fair point." [leans forward slightly] "So, what do you do?"

Him: [pretends to think] "Hmm... should I tell you? Or keep the mystery alive for a little longer?"

Serene: "Mystery, huh? Is that your game? What should I call you then? Mysterious Stranger?"

Him: [grinning] "You could... or you could just ask my name."

Serene: [tilting her head] "Alright. What’s your name?"

Him: [leans in slightly, lowering his voice] "Chris."

Serene: [repeating softly] "Chris." [smiles] "Nice to finally know the name of the guy I’m apparently staring at."

Chris: [playfully] "Admit it. You’re staring because you’re curious."

Serene: [smirking] "Or because I’m trying to figure out how you convinced someone to set you up with me."

Chris: [mock offense] "Ouch. And here I thought this was going well."

Serene: [laughing] "It is... maybe."

Chris leans back in his chair, but his eyes stay locked on her, the playful banter softening into something more charged.

Chris: [gently] "You’re nervous."

Serene: [biting her lip] "A little."

Chris: [reaching out and brushing his fingers over the back of her hand] "Don’t be. I think we’re off to a pretty good start."

Serene: [looking down at their hands, then back at him] "I think so too."

The candle flickers between them as the moment lingers, heavy with unspoken possibilities.

The restaurant has quieted down, and the candlelight casts a warm glow over their table. Plates with half-eaten food sit in front of them, but neither seems to care. Chris leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, while Serene sits back, laughing softly as she twirls the stem of her wine glass.

Serene: [grinning] "You’re kidding. There’s no way you actually fell into the lake."

Chris: [laughing] "I’m serious! One second I was trying to impress her with my 'excellent balance' on the canoe, and the next—bam! Fully submerged."

Serene: [giggling] "Wow. I can’t believe she still went out with you after that."

Chris: [pretending to look hurt] "What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think drenched and humiliated is charming?"

Serene: [teasing] "Not exactly the look most people are going for."

Chris: "Well, clearly it worked. She laughed so hard she almost fell in too. And now we’re great friends. So, really, it was all part of my plan."

Serene: [raising an eyebrow] "Right. Completely intentional."

Chris: "You get me."

Serene: [smirking] "I’m starting to think I do."

They both pause, the banter fading into a comfortable silence. Serene takes a sip of her drink, but she can feel Chris’s eyes on her.

Chris: [softly] "You know... I wasn’t sure about tonight."

Serene: [setting her glass down] "Me neither."

Chris: [tilting his head] "But I’m really glad I came."

Serene: [meets his gaze] "Me too."

The corner of Chris’s mouth lifts into a smile, and for a moment, neither of them looks away.

Chris: [breaking the tension with a grin] "So... do I get to see this 'terrible singing in the shower' talent you mentioned earlier?"

Serene: [laughing and covering her face] "Absolutely not."

Chris: [leaning back, smirking] "You know, that just makes me more determined."

Serene: "You’re impossible."

Chris: [playfully] "You’re stuck with me now, Serene. Better get used to it."

She laughs again, but there’s something softer in her eyes this time, something that lingers even as the waiter arrives to clear their plates. And as the night goes on, they both realize they’re in no rush for it to end.

Serene's POV

No way is this happening.

Why am I liking this? Why am I liking him? The guy sitting right in front of me, grinning like he owns the world and making me laugh like it’s the easiest thing ever?

What the hell?

Have I gone insane? Are my hormones okay? Is this some kind of trick my brain is playing on me because of the candlelight and the wine?

If anyone had told me yesterday—when I was cursing this exact same guy under my breath—that I’d be sitting across from him tonight, adoring him like some lovesick teenager, I would’ve laughed. Hard. And then probably rolled my eyes.

But now? Now it just feels... insane.

Because, oh my god, he looks so good in that white shirt and those perfectly worn-in, white-washed blue jeans. It’s annoyingly effortless. And those dimples? I seriously want to reach across the table and pinch them off his cheeks.

And don’t even get me started on the way his cheeks flush that faint pink whenever I mock him—because yes, I’ve been doing it all evening just to watch it happen again—and the way his eyes sparkle under the candlelight like he’s hiding something mischievous.

I’m screwed.

Absolutely, completely, hopelessly screwed.

Jules, just wait till I see you. You’re so not getting away with this matchmaking scheme without hearing an earful about it.

-

As the night went on, we drifted effortlessly from one conversation to another. Being around him felt so easy—so natural. Like I could sit there, breathing, and he’d somehow understand every thought running through my head without me even saying a word.

He was so easy to like it scared me.

Me: "So, Chris, what’s with you coming to the bookshop almost every day?"

Chris: [grinning] "Well, first off, I’m obviously there to keep an eye on you." [pauses, pretending to be serious, then laughs] "Just kidding. I actually like reading books. I have this very specific list I want to finish before, you know... my untimely demise."

Me: [impressed] "Wow. Okay, that’s... unexpected. You don’t really seem like the bookish type."

Chris: [mock offense] "And what does the 'bookish type' even look like?"

Me: [smirking] "Not someone who forgets to pay for their coffee and then pretends it never happened."

Chris: [laughing] "Hey! That was one time."

Me: "Sure it was."

By the time we stepped out of the restaurant, I had already lost the argument about who was paying. He was stubborn, and I wasn’t exactly used to someone standing their ground like that—not in a way that made it feel charming rather than frustrating.

Outside, the moon hung low, painting the night sky in shades of pale blue, while stars peeked out from behind the wispy clouds. The air was cool, but I barely noticed.

This night had been perfect.

Not just for me—but for him, too. I could feel it in the way his eyes softened when they met mine, in the unspoken ease that lingered between us. It felt like some invisible line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

As we strolled side by side toward the parking lot, there were giggles and soft laughter in the air, moments that felt stolen and yet so completely ours.

And for once, I felt like I belonged. Like this—being here with him—was exactly where I was meant to be. It was not a place where I had to shrink myself to fit in, but one where I already had a place, just as I was.

I didn’t want the night to end. Neither did he.

When Chris offered me a ride, I said yes before he even finished asking. Because, if I was being honest, I didn’t want to be away from him—not now and, if I could help it, not ever.

There was something about him that felt so effortless, so delicate and soft, that it almost hurt to think someone could be like that.

And as I climbed into the car, my heart thrumming with something dangerously close to hope, I realized that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end of the night. Maybe this was just the beginning.

The ride home is a blur of bickering, teasing, and bursts of laughter—the kind that bubbles up so easily it leaves your cheeks aching. And when I tell you it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time, I’m not exaggerating.

By the time we pull up in front of my apartment, the mood shifts, just slightly. The laughter fades, replaced by something softer. And as much as I try to ignore it, there’s this heavy knot of disappointment settling in my gut. I’m not ready to leave. Not yet.

Chris: [leaning against the steering wheel, grinning] "So, when can I see you again?"

Me: [playing it cool] "What’s the rush?"

Chris: [mock serious] "Let me tell you—I’m the impatient type. So you’d better hurry before you lose your man."

Me: [raising an eyebrow] "Just because you’re hot doesn’t mean everyone wants to date you, okay?"

Chris: [smirking] "So... you think I’m hot?"

Me: [flustered] "You wish." [pauses, then smirks] "But... if you do want to see me again, read Better Than the Movies and Nothing Like the Movies. Prepare a full review for both. If I like what you have to say... I’ll give it a thought."

Chris: [grinning] "Damn. You’re tougher than I thought." [leans in slightly] "But I’ll say this—you’ve got the right guy. I’ll meet you next week, right here, with the reviews ready to blow your mind." [winks]

And then it happens.

He smiles—the kind of smile that’s all soft edges and dimples and a quiet promise I can’t quite put into words. You belong with me by Taylor Swift, which starts playing in my mind. The moonlight hits just right, casting tiny stars in his eyes, and before I can think twice, I lean in.

A quick kiss, just at the corner of his mouth—soft enough to tease but deliberate enough to leave him stunned.

Before he can react, I bolt.

Chris: [laughing softly behind me] "You’re impossible, Serene!"

I don’t look back. I can’t. My heart’s already racing, and I’m terrified he’ll see it written all over my face if I stop now.

By the time I’m inside, leaning against the door, I can still feel the warmth of his skin against mine.

And that night, as I force myself to sleep, I replay the whole evening over and over again, wondering how one night could flip my entire world upside down.

I’m so freaking screwed.

-

The next chapters will be up soon! Make sure to share, like and comment!

♡R

[datastate]

I've always been really intrigued by the contrast between his social mask and the obvious signs of... what should I call it, dishevelment? The more you find out of his character or take a close look. One thing being that his haircut is a bit uneven and seems roughly pushed away from his face in his sprite, both in flashbacks and in the main game. I find the same contrast interesting in Mishima too, especially since in-universe he seems to have a harder time being perceived as put-together or reliable until one gets to know him despite, in my perception, trying very hard to keep up a "responsible" image to people in the same way. <- rambling because it remembered that it likes YTTD

[ @prizefigures ]

yes!!! it's so interesting to me - you see them both try very hard to keep up an (effortless) act that would poise them as, well, reliable people! as you said. despite them both still being very supportive and compassionate people beneath the appearances they put on, neither of them really seem to recognize that as worthwhile (or at least, not as typically palatable, which especially applies in kazumi's case despite his best efforts :[ poor fellow...)

i actually spoke the other day on how these two's speech patterns in particular were almost... the inverse? of one another as well, which plays into what you mentioned here too. all sorts of things help them form their social masks...

kai does seem to speak very straightforwardly in his mind - with some silly similes to spice it up ("kai, your mood is as unusual as the autumn sky"). but aloud, even though he's concise, he will usually softens his words with phrases like 'may, might, perhaps' or preface with questions to reaffirm what he's been told before he actually approaches an answer/response. he's rarely brazen unless he believes there's danger (the only times you'd even see him raise his voice in-game is when he's trying to get sara's attention, at the threat of death) - he tries to keep himself composed for the most part!

but like you said, as you learn about kai or get closer to him (ytts is really good for this), you do start to see the cracks begin to show. he's still very much learning how to... be a person, not just an extension of asunaro. it's what contributes to that subtle disarray, because you see the him wear his asunaro uniform (which he couldn't discard, because it still feels to be an intrinsic part of him despite years spent with the chidouins), contrasted with the apron (which he wouldn't discard, for it is cherished). and while he's clearly grown to accept and even enjoy having long hair now, he hasn't yet learned how to take care of it.

it really is interesting seeing these small signs of him still piecing together what his life, who 'kai', could be! and when people like kazumi, reko, nao dig a bit deeper because they want to know kai, they see more of those uncertainties that he learned to mask. it's really touching seeing the moment where kazumi begins to unveil him in a very kind way and kai ends up asking him to stop, because it's such a large step in trust that kai wasn't prepared for...

that scene always hits me :'] yours are hands filled with affection toward another... ahhh.

& then you see what kai does for kazumi in return too... because, despite the occasional 'you really are a bit [intense] aren't you' -- it isn't necessarily a bad thing! just an energy that kai wouldn't usually match, but is nonetheless unique to kazumi himself. and for that, kai insists to him that perfection isn't what he should be seeking out, but rather he should concentrate his efforts foremost on his skills and passions; hone in on what only he can and present that to the world irregardless of people's more superficial reactions toward his appearance or how he presents it. which is really what kazumi needed to hear, considering he started out the event with:

I wish I were a truly fine teacher, the kind who could answer any question I'm asked… Right now… it feels like I'm just barely managing to teach art and how to study…

which, getting back to how they phrase things... for kazumi, you can see the shift of how he phrases things when spoken aloud, highly influenced due to his career as a teacher. people will always be looking to him for answers, and he tries his best to provide them with confidence so they will 1) take his words to heart, but also 2) consider him reliable. because he wants to be able to support other people, and he's clearly very compassionate. even his questions are typically directed to hear out the other person's perspective. if he doesn't know something, he will of course need to ask, but typically he still prefers framing himself as someone who is knowledgeable. where even in that, he implicitly emphasizes the importance of listening to others to make sense of the world.

while he doesn't exactly try to completely conceal his past or his mistakes, because he understands he still needs to utilize them to connect with students to reassure them that he understands (like with nao), he is still disappointed if it seems that this is... all that someone sees within him. you see this especially with sara commenting that he's a good liar, along with how frantic he gets over the cigar/cigarette issue, that he feels he has a duty to uphold being a responsible teacher. but it's especially interesting seeing that even with people like kai and keiji prodding at him for this, he still typically denies himself that indulgence before other adults.

that reluctance is actually partially what has brought me to believe that he's a recovering addict. so alongside the teacher persona, which he easily grasps onto to excuse this, he could even be using that to kind of. conceal himself behind too. with keiji, and implied with nao, you see him mention how time is the only thing which helped him heal from the mistakes of his past -- and it could very well be that the solution he found at the end of that, to become a teacher, is the thing that truly pulled him out of that. perhaps privately, he still seems to associate himself as irresponsible when he doesn't have the weight of being a mentor. which is what leads him toward boasting such confidence, using white lies (i do feel like, bc of this, it was particularly significant for him to admit how much he still didn't know to kai), and doubting himself...

i do wonder how difficult the start of the school years always seems to be for him in this case. even if he knows it simply takes a while for the students to understand who he tries to be, it must be so stressful/demoralizing to bear that at the start of every year. but he does get back into the rhythm of things! he's very good with people... probably one of the most socially-adept people, up there with joe's skills.

it's funny that, even after going on about all this. i wouldn't consider either of them to be necessarily... insecure people. more than anything, i'd say that they're just. uncertain, and are scared to admit that. for kai, being uncertain is to proclaim that he isn't fully living, isn't cherishing that gift granted to him. for kazumi, it means admitting that for all he says, he doesn't have an answer for himself as to whether or not he can really accomplish what he's dedicated his life to after fumbling with it for much longer than the average person. they're both trying to understand where they go from here after practically... rebuilding themselves from the ground up. (kai with asunaro, of course; kazumi with the whole. ego death lol)

but when they look upon each other, they're still. very kind. and they offer what they believe the other wants or needs. there's a lot of trust between them, because they're trying to show that... it's safe to let those masks fall aside; that doing so won't mean losing the respect and love they'd want to harbor, things that feel as though they're at risk if they can't keep up appearances. but having that comfort with each other is really... special :']

[coffeeaddiction2]

Save me

y/n- your name

Okay, here we go. Buckle up.

The salt spray on your face is a familiar comfort these days. You’re leaning against the railing of the Phantom, JJ’s trusty (and slightly battered) boat, watching him wrestle with a tangled fishing net. His sun-kissed skin glows under the late afternoon sun, those perpetually mischievous eyes crinkling at the corners as he curses under his breath. You laugh, a genuine, easy sound that curls around him like the ocean breeze. This—this chaos, this effortless joy—is what you never knew you were missing. And all of it started with JJ Maybank.

You’d only dated him for a few months, a whirlwind of late-night beach bonfires, whispered secrets under starry skies, and the kind of laughter that vibrates in your chest. He's not polished, not perfect, but he’s real. Something, you realize, you never got with Rafe.

Rafe. The name itself tastes like ash in your mouth. Your relationship with him had been a suffocating dance of expectations and control. He’d wanted you to be his perfect, polished accessory, and you, caught up in the gilded cage he’d built, had almost believed it too. Almost. But then you met JJ. You finally decided to break things off with Rafe and he didn’t take it well.

You’re jarred from your thoughts by JJ’s voice. “What’s got you all dreamy-eyed?” he asks, his smile infectious. He drops the net and clambers towards you, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the deck.

“Just thinking how lucky I am,” you say, leaning in for a kiss. His lips are salty and warm, and for a moment, there’s only you two, the sun, and the sea.

But that feeling of peace doesn't last. Not in the Outer Banks, and definitely not with Rafe Cameron lurking in the shadows.

The first sign is subtle. A chilling look in the crowd at The Wreck, the feeling of being watched, a car that follows you a little too closely on your drive home. You tell JJ, of course, and his jaw tightens, his eyes turning the color of storm clouds. He promises to be extra careful, to keep you safe. But deep down, a knot of unease begins to twist in your stomach.

Then it happens.

You're walking home from work, the setting sun painting the sky in vibrant hues when a black SUV screeches to a halt beside you. Before you can react, a hand clamps over your mouth, yanking you inside. The smell of leather and cologne fills your nostrils, and you know, with a sickening certainty, who it is.

Rafe.

The next few days are a blur of pain and terror. You’re held captive in a damp, dark room, the scent of mildew clinging to the air. He barely speaks to you, his eyes a cold, burning rage. He’s like a predator, circling you, his rage barely contained. He doesn't feed you, doesn't give you water. "You'll learn to choose wisely next time" is all he says.

He beats you, his fists connecting with your flesh with a sickening thud. You curl into yourself, trying to make yourself smaller, trying to disappear. He breaks your leg, the sharp snap of bone echoing in the confined space. You scream, but no one hears you. You lose track of time, the days melding into a horrifying cycle of pain and thirst. He takes out all his anger like you were some sort of punching bag, and you realize with bone deep horror that he might just kill you. You've never been so scared.

Meanwhile, the world outside your prison is thrown into chaos. JJ, along with Kiara, Pope, and Sarah, are frantic. They search tirelessly, their desperation growing with each passing hour. They comb through every inch of the Outer Banks, clinging to the hope that you’re still alive. JJ is a man possessed, fueled by a terrifying cocktail of love and fury. He barely eats, barely sleeps, his normally bright eyes clouded with worry.

“We have to find her,” he says again and again, his voice hoarse. “We have to.”

They comb through leads, turning over every stone, asking anyone who might possibly have seen something. But Rafe has covered his tracks well. He took you in the dead of night, and he’s not willing to let you go.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, a breakthrough. Sarah, with the help of some Kook connections, locates the abandoned warehouse where Rafe is keeping you. Kiara is the one who first manages to get inside and she is armed. She kicks the door in, her heart hammering in her chest when she sees the scene before her.

"OMG! Y/N! WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU?!" Kiara screams; her voice shaking with horror.

You’re lying crumpled on the floor, your face swollen and bruised, your clothes torn. Your leg is bent at an unnatural angle, and a dull ache throbs in your head. You try to speak, but only a whimper escapes your lips.

Then, the door is kicked open again, a figure hurtling inside with the speed of a hurricane. JJ. He was barely three seconds behind Kiara. His eyes lock onto you, his face a mask of raw emotion. He drops to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as he reaches out to touch you.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice choked with tears. “Oh god, Y/N.”

He gently scoops you into his arms, his touch both tender and furious. The rage in his eyes is palpable; the only thing keeping it in check is the need to get you help. “We’re getting you out of here,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The walk out of the warehouse feels like a dream. The world is a blur of worried faces and urgent voices. They get you into the back of the van quickly, Kiara holding your hand and Sarah tending to your broken leg as carefully as could be. You are finally free.

The next few weeks are a slow climb back. You’re in and out of the hospital, your body battered but your spirit unbroken. The concussion causes you to be incredibly sensitive to light and sound, and the pain in your broken leg is excruciating. But you’re alive. And you are safe with the pogues.

JJ is your constant shadow, his touch a soothing balm. He sits by your bedside, holding your hand, his eyes never leaving you. He’s gentle, patient, and completely devoted to your recovery. He doesn’t talk about what happened, not yet. But the unspoken promise of protection is always there, in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds your hand.

One evening, as you sit on his porch, the salt air caressing your skin, you finally find your voice. “I thought I was going to die,” you whisper, your voice raw with emotion.

JJ takes your hand, his gaze intense. “You’re not going to die, not ever. Not on my watch.” He pulls you close, his arms wrapped around you like a shield. “Rafe… he won't ever touch you again. I promise you that.”

You lean your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat a familiar rhythm, a comforting anchor in the storm. The scars, both visible and invisible, may remain. However, you know that you have found your place. You don't need Rafe's gilded cage or his control, instead you have the freedom and love and the unwavering loyalty of the pogues. With their help, you will heal. With JJ by your side, you are certain you can get through anything life throws at you. Because, as you finally understand, you are exactly where you are meant to be. And this, finally, feels like home.

Okay, here we go. Buckle up.

The salt spray on your face is a familiar comfort these days. You’re leaning against the railing of the Phantom, JJ’s trusty (and slightly battered) boat, watching him wrestle with a tangled fishing net. His sun-kissed skin glows under the late afternoon sun, those perpetually mischievous eyes crinkling at the corners as he curses under his breath. You laugh, a genuine, easy sound that curls around him like the ocean breeze. This—this chaos, this effortless joy—is what you never knew you were missing. And all of it started with JJ Maybank.

You’d only dated him for a few months, a whirlwind of late-night beach bonfires, whispered secrets under starry skies, and the kind of laughter that vibrates in your chest. He's not polished, not perfect, but he’s real. Something, you realize, you never got with Rafe.

Rafe. The name itself tastes like ash in your mouth. Your relationship with him had been a suffocating dance of expectations and control. He’d wanted you to be his perfect, polished accessory, and you, caught up in the gilded cage he’d built, had almost believed it too. Almost. But then you met JJ. You finally decided to break things off with Rafe and he didn’t take it well.

You’re jarred from your thoughts by JJ’s voice. “What’s got you all dreamy-eyed?” he asks, his smile infectious. He drops the net and clambers towards you, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the deck.

“Just thinking how lucky I am,” you say, leaning in for a kiss. His lips are salty and warm, and for a moment, there’s only you two, the sun, and the sea.

But that feeling of peace doesn't last. Not in the Outer Banks, and definitely not with Rafe Cameron lurking in the shadows.

The first sign is subtle. A chilling look in the crowd at The Wreck, the feeling of being watched, a car that follows you a little too closely on your drive home. You tell JJ, of course, and his jaw tightens, his eyes turning the color of storm clouds. He promises to be extra careful, to keep you safe. But deep down, a knot of unease begins to twist in your stomach.

Then it happens.

You're walking home from work, the setting sun painting the sky in vibrant hues when a black SUV screeches to a halt beside you. Before you can react, a hand clamps over your mouth, yanking you inside. The smell of leather and cologne fills your nostrils, and you know, with a sickening certainty, who it is.

Rafe.

The next few days are a blur of pain and terror. You’re held captive in a damp, dark room, the scent of mildew clinging to the air. He barely speaks to you, his eyes a cold, burning rage. He’s like a predator, circling you, his rage barely contained. He doesn't feed you, doesn't give you water. "You'll learn to choose wisely next time" is all he says.

He beats you, his fists connecting with your flesh with a sickening thud. You curl into yourself, trying to make yourself smaller, trying to disappear. He breaks your leg, the sharp snap of bone echoing in the confined space. You scream, but no one hears you. You lose track of time, the days melding into a horrifying cycle of pain and thirst. He takes out all his anger like you were some sort of punching bag, and you realize with bone deep horror that he might just kill you. You've never been so scared.

Meanwhile, the world outside your prison is thrown into chaos. JJ, along with Kiara, Pope, and Sarah, are frantic. They search tirelessly, their desperation growing with each passing hour. They comb through every inch of the Outer Banks, clinging to the hope that you’re still alive. JJ is a man possessed, fueled by a terrifying cocktail of love and fury. He barely eats, barely sleeps, his normally bright eyes clouded with worry.

“We have to find her,” he says again and again, his voice hoarse. “We have to.”

They comb through leads, turning over every stone, asking anyone who might possibly have seen something. But Rafe has covered his tracks well. He took you in the dead of night, and he’s not willing to let you go.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, a breakthrough. Sarah, with the help of some Kook connections, locates the abandoned warehouse where Rafe is keeping you. Kiara is the one who first manages to get inside and she is armed. She kicks the door in, her heart hammering in her chest when she sees the scene before her.

"OMG! Y/N! WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU?!" Kiara screams; her voice shaking with horror.

You’re lying crumpled on the floor, your face swollen and bruised, your clothes torn. Your leg is bent at an unnatural angle, and a dull ache throbs in your head. You try to speak, but only a whimper escapes your lips.

Then, the door is kicked open again, a figure hurtling inside with the speed of a hurricane. JJ. He was barely three seconds behind Kiara. His eyes lock onto you, his face a mask of raw emotion. He drops to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as he reaches out to touch you.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice choked with tears. “Oh god, Y/N.”

He gently scoops you into his arms, his touch both tender and furious. The rage in his eyes is palpable; the only thing keeping it in check is the need to get you help. “We’re getting you out of here,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The walk out of the warehouse feels like a dream. The world is a blur of worried faces and urgent voices. They get you into the back of the van quickly, Kiara holding your hand and Sarah tending to your broken leg as carefully as could be. You are finally free.

The next few weeks are a slow climb back. You’re in and out of the hospital, your body battered but your spirit unbroken. The concussion causes you to be incredibly sensitive to light and sound, and the pain in your broken leg is excruciating. But you’re alive. And you are safe with the pogues.

JJ is your constant shadow, his touch a soothing balm. He sits by your bedside, holding your hand, his eyes never leaving you. He’s gentle, patient, and completely devoted to your recovery. He doesn’t talk about what happened, not yet. But the unspoken promise of protection is always there, in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds your hand.

One evening, as you sit on his porch, the salt air caressing your skin, you finally find your voice. “I thought I was going to die,” you whisper, your voice raw with emotion.

JJ takes your hand, his gaze intense. “You’re not going to die, not ever. Not on my watch.” He pulls you close, his arms wrapped around you like a shield. “Rafe… he won't ever touch you again. I promise you that.”

You lean your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat a familiar rhythm, a comforting anchor in the storm. The scars, both visible and invisible, may remain. However, you know that you have found your place. You don't need Rafe's gilded cage or his control, instead you have the freedom and love and the unwavering loyalty of the pogues. With their help, you will heal. With JJ by your side, you are certain you can get through anything life throws at you. Because, as you finally understand, you are exactly where you are meant to be. And this, finally, feels like home.

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "Shroud of Darkness"

Heading back to Lothal for the beginning of the end arc.

We start right away In Media Res with Kanan and Ezra fighting the Inquisitors. And man is it amazing to watch how far they've both come in their lightsaber combat.

Ezra could barely duel Seventh for a minute back in "Always Two There Are" and now he's holding his own against her AND Fifth, with help granted but still.

Part of the reason why I think Season Two has to span the longest length of time out of all the seasons.

This is almost over-choreographed, lots of spins and lightsaber twirls that are frankly superfluous but they look cool so you know, whatever.

"I don't go for crazy... anymore." Do tell Kanan, lol.

It's funny because the voice actors are married.

NO I DON'T THINK THE SYMBOLISM OF EZRA DANGLING PRECARIOUSLY OFF A PRECIPICE WITH KANAN AS THE ONLY THING PREVENTING HIS FALL IS ANY KIND OF COINCIDENCE, GIVEN LATER IN THE EPISODE.

Rebels tends to be very deliberate about these things lol.

I don't think I noticed before but the past several episodes have had no fanfare and I think we all should have taken that as a clue or portent of things to come.

A+ padawan tossing Kanan, slick move.

Ezra's effortless flip over the Inquisitors. <3

Kanan complaining but ultimately having full trust in Ezra and the proud look he gives him. <3

Ezra being polite and thanking the tibedee, aww.

Okay I should stop before I gush over every second here.

Kanan expresses some rather natural worries about the fact that his and Ezra's presence is going to put the rest of the fleet at risk, since the Inquisitors keep finding them, and determines to bring in the big gun (Ahsoka) on this one. The expressions in this scene and the quiet subtle emotion is just beautiful, Kanan's worry about how to keep everyone safe just palpable.

RIGHT, SURE. SMACK ME IN THE FACE WITH PRE-VADER ANAKIN FEELS WITH ANAKIN MAKING HOLOCRON LIGHTSABER TUTORIALS FOR YOUNGLINGS.

Anakin would have loved Ezra. *sobbing*

Subtle animation appreciation moment: Ezra creeping around very carefully so as not to disturb Ahsoka's meditation, and the way his hand fumbles out for the seat.

Ahsoka talking so fondly about Anakin, ow.

I remember when this aired Ahsoka's line about, "The last time I saw him, he was running off to save the Chancellor." caused quite a bit of hullabaloo in fandom because, well, TCW Season 7 wasn't actually a thing yet, from our perspective she'd just walked off in Season 5 never to be seen again.

Writers decided to be all, "Let's incorporate unfinished storylines as if they're canon!" much to fan confusion, lol, wonder if they knew at that point that they were getting renewed to finish the last season.

"I can barely protect you." "I don't need protecting." *LAUGHS IN THIS ENTIRE SEASON* Right, how many times exactly did you get captured or in trouble this season Ezra? Yeah.

Our first hints of Hera's worried misgivings about Kanan's eventual plan to separate from the fleet.

The blockade hasn't returned yet to Lothal airspace, interesting. Maybe with the Spectres gone they loosened things just a little.

Our first time hearing Ezra's theme since I think "Legacy", a nice marker of us coming home.

Did... Ahsoka not know that Ezra was from Lothal before this? What's with the question? Did she think the Spectres just picked him up randomly on one of their adventures and take him with?

Still as pretty as ever.

Ahsoka's not confident enough in calling herself a Jedi to believe a Jedi Temple would open for her, boy this girl and her self-identity issues.

She doesn't think she deserves the title. She left and then everything fell apart and there was no more Order to return to, so she couldn't return, even though she maybe wanted to, even though she realized being a Jedi was what she did truly care about.

OH HEY, THERE'S THE DOOR PALPATINE STEALS.

And they walk down the exact same hall that Ezra would later walk down in the finale into the bowels of the Temple, excuse me, I need to--

*weeps*

I do love the Force Weirdness of this episode, how only Kanan can see the door bathed in light, how Ezra just sort of slips into the ether that is between the Temple and the Nexus of the World Between Worlds and disappears.

And I love Kanan's portion of this episode. Confronted by a vision of a dojo in the Temple and a Temple Guardian, Grand before he was an Inquisitor, who warns that trying to fight will result in failure and Ezra's fall to the Dark Side. (This speech sounds eerily similar to Grand's demoralizing speech to Ezra in "Gathering Forces" in fact.)

That immediate cold protective fury aaaaah I love it!

Grand's threat here was taken way too literally as prophetic foreshadowing by fandom BTW. Still is.

So Kanan and Grand square up and in the meantime the Inquisitors have found them. Again. I don't think they ever explained how, perhaps it's just that Inquisitor intuition that made Kanan and Ezra have to separate the first time, back in "Gathering Forces".

Hi Seventh! Hi Fifth!

Ahsoka reminiscing about Yoda. :(

Ezra, meanwhile, casually chatting the man up. XD

Kanan doing some casual Jar'Kai. Just cause.

[Insert "You're doing amazing sweetie" reaction image.]

OH BOY NOW WE GET TO DELVE INTO AHSOKA'S GUILT ISSUES ABOUT ANAKIN.

Bby girl knows deep down that he's become Vader but is still so vehemently in denial of it, the Force is smacking her in the face with the weight of her own guilt. Ahsoka feels like, "Maybe if I hadn't left..." but it's not about her, Anakin made his own stupid choices, there was nothing, metatextually, that Ahsoka could have done that would have prevented Anakin's fall it's not her fault.

:((((((((((

This is something I hope we will finally delve deep into and get over in the Ahsoka show. Babygirl needs to forgive herself for the wrongs she imagines she's done Anakin and accept that he made his choice, just like she made hers.

A snippet of Ahsoka's theme here, just for extra sads.

Oh good! It's time to play my least favorite game: Is this scene a commentary and critique of the actions of the Prequel Jedi Order or is this in-text Unreliable Narrator from Yoda as a person with obvious Survivor's Guilt.

It's especially annoying because Filoni you worked on TCW, remember all that enslaving, war criming, and general evil the Separatists were involved in on a daily basis? Are you saying the Jedi were wrong for wanting to try and stop all of that and protect the people put in harm's way? THIS WAS YOUR MATERIAL DUDE.

Love the subtle effect of the ring patterns turning red and the clear effort it's taking Seventh and Fifth to force their way into the Temple.

Kanan, meanwhile, confronted by his worst fears parroted by the vision of Grand, accepts that he cannot control his or Ezra's future, and that he should not try to. He lets go, gives up his fear of failing, gives up the instinct to cling tight to Ezra, his attachment, and acknowledges that what happens will happen, he will just do the best he can.

AND HE PASSES THE TEST AND GETS KNIGHTED BY THE FORCE ITSELF BABY!

I'm so proud of him. :)

Yoda is frustratingly cryptic, only telling Ezra, "Find Malachor" (which made KOTOR fans go nuts) before letting him fade back into realspace. To this day I'm still not quite clear just why Yoda decided to sent them that way except maybe to prove a point about what can happen when you act out of fear. Malachor does contribute to a lot of Ezra's character development, for both good and bad, so... I dunno.

Vision!Grand fighting his former co-workers aaaah I love it.

Yoda waving fondly at Ahsoka awww.

AND THE BIG DARK ASSHOLE HIMSELF IS HERE TO OVERSEE THE IMPERIAL DISCOVERY OF THE TEMPLE.

Again, I do wonder just how far back they planned the World Between Worlds reveal. Because yeah an ancient Jedi Temple is a pretty nice find but Palpatine being personally pleased with its discovery?

This episode is obviously very Plot Important but I do tend to skip it when I'm rewatching episodes, I'm not fond of the kind of downer ambiguous ending or the vaguely Jedi-critical sentiments that maybe lace through the episode.

That being said, it is a good one and definitely worth at least a couple watches. Contributes to the melancholy, "Everything is going to change" feel the last few episodes leading up to Malachor had. And that was one of this season's strengths, the build-up to what they knew would be a status quo-changing finale. Also contributes to the wider arc of the "five year plan" and the secret reason Palpatine was interested in Lothal, laying down the tracks for that reveal eeeearrrly so that it feels completely natural.

Love that. Between that and Ezra and Kanan being badass it's not terrible, just not my favorite.

[pies-writes-and-more]

the first time saying I love you

Warnings: nothing! Maybe some swearing but all fluff!

Characters: Daichi Sawamura, Bokuto Kotaro, and Ushijima Wakatoshi all with a Fem!Reader

A/N: I know I have some requests and other WIPs I should be working on but I was having a bit of trouble finding some inspo so I thought maybe this would help haha. Hope you enjoy! I might make more parts with other characters :)

p. 2 

Daichi Sawamura Who says it first: You

“You’re going to do great! I love you! Good luck!” With those words, you ran out of the gym and made your way up to the stands, perching yourself over the edge with the rest of the Karasuno fans. You glanced down at the court to make sure you had a good view, trying to give a smile to your boyfriend.

It was odd though, Daichi hadn’t moved. It was like he was frozen in the spot you left him. His body seemed stiff and his feet were glued to the floor.

The Karasuno team all looked up at you with wide eyes, even Kiyoka staring up at you in surprise, most of their jaws open. You tilted your head in confusion - did something happen while you came up to the seats? Was it something you said-

Oh.

Daichi turned and looked up at you with wide eyes. His lips parted but there wasn’t a sound coming out. What was that look in his eyes? Was it… panic? Annoyance? Were you not supposed to say that?

You could feel your insecurities rising up in you - how stupid were you? The two of you had only been going out for a few months now! How could you say something so carelessly?

But it hadn’t felt careless. In fact it almost felt… effortless. You did love him. You’d known this for a while now, even if you had avoided voicing it. Ever since he met your parents and was the sweetest guest ever - they loved him. You loved him. And now those words were in the air for him to decide what to do with.

“Y-You love me?” He managed to get out after a while. You wanted nothing more than to sink back into a chair and hide. This wasn’t the time. This was an official match. Daichi had to focus, how was he supposed to focus if he was going to break up with you right now- “I love you too!” He declared loudly, a smile growing from his lips to his eyes. 

Your eyes widened and blinked at him, feeling the genuineness of his words. “I love you, Y/N!” He repeated, giving a firm nod. “And we’ll win this match for you! Promise!” He assured you, Sugawara and Asahi coming up behind him and clapping him on his shoulders, both of them sending you a thumbs up.

“We love you too, Y/N!” Sugawara grinned and Daichi smacked his head playfully. “What! She’s nice to Asahi when we’re not, and she bakes me food,” Sugawara smirked sending you another cheeky grin that makes you laugh. Asahi just chuckled, but nodded in agreement. The four of you had gotten close even before Daichi and you had started going out and their bond was something you always loved seeing in action.

“Shut up,” Daichi grumbled to his friend but shot another look at you, as if memorizing this moment before going out and getting ready for the game. He had never broken a promise to you, and he wasn’t going to start with this one.

Bokuto Kotaro Who says it first: Him

“Are those for me?” Bokuto gaped as you walked into the gym, his jaw practically on the floor seeing the container of sweets in your hands.

“Well they’re for everyone really,” you laughed, admiring the sweet smile on your boyfriend’s face, “but you can have the first pick just cause you’re cute.”

Bokuto was drooling already - he loved it when you made him any kind of food. He grabbed the container from you, peppering your face with kisses as he attempted to get it open.

“Akaashi! Look! Y/N baked us some treats!” Bokuto called, waving his best friend over. “It’s no wonder I love you, you always make the best food!” He grinned over at you, shoving the first sweet he could grab into his mouth.

He hadn’t even swallowed before noticing the look on your face, eyes wide like you were a deer in headlights, “Sumfin’ wron’?” He asked you through brownie crumbs. He turned to Akaashi who had slowed down making his way over upon hearing his friend’s words, but he only offered a raised eyebrow in return. “What?” Bokuto asked confused.

“Bokuto, you idiot,” Akaashi shook his head in disappointment. “I don’t think that’s how you’re meant to say that kind of stuff. Isn’t it supposed to be more... private?”

Bokuto frowned a little, thinking back to his last words, “That she makes good food? But it’s true-” And there it was. Bokuto’s whole body froze in realization, turning to you with eyes as wide as an owl. “Y/N-” he started nervously.

“It’s okay!” You offered a grin, rubbing the back of your head nervously, “You can take it back if you want to! I’ll pretend like I didn’t hear it!”

Akaashi’s fingers slipped the container out of Bokuto’s hands quickly, sneaking away to give you guys some privacy while also trying to get the rest of the team some food before Bokuto ate it all.

“Take it back?” Bokuto thought it over for a moment before shaking his head, “Would you want me to take it back?”

You shifted nervously, “I mean I wouldn’t ever want you to say something you didn’t mean.”

Bokuto laughed, a sound that surprised you but also put your nerves at ease, “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” He grinned at you, hands on his hips. “I’ve loved you since we met, Y/N. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that I’d want to be with you forever.” He beamed proudly, smiling down at you. That smile froze for a moment, his eyes widening again, “Unless… you don’t feel the same…” Somehow it seemed like his hair drooped and you could see the signs of sad!Bokuto coming on.

“Of course I feel the same,” you insisted quickly, your face feeling hot. “I… I just didn’t think we’d have this moment in front of your teammates,” you whispered playfully, laughing a little.

Bokuto glanced at his team who were eagerly eating the snacks and watching the show in front of them: starring you two.

“Oi! Go eat somewhere else! I’ve got to finish declaring my love to the most wonderful human in the world!” Bokuto ordered before turning back to you with a smile while Akaashi shoved the rest of the team out the door (much to their protest). “I’m sorry for... not making it more intimate.” He apologized with a light chuckle, “I’ll make it up to you though!”

You shook your head with a smile, reaching up and pressing a kiss to his nose, “As long as you mean it, I don’t care where you say it.”

Bokuto smiled and scooped you up into a huge hug, pressing his lips to your ear before murmuring, “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I love you. I love you,” he chated softly, “I’ll love you forever, every single day of my life.”

Ushijima Wakatoshi Who says it first: Him

Ushijima never really cared for interviews but he knew that his team being as good as they were warranted some media attention. But what he hated most about it was their constant need to know everything about him.

“What’s your favourite food? What a line that makes your team really inspired? What kind of workout routine do you follow? What’re your plans for after this tournament?”

Most of the time he would grunt a short answer or excuse himself and let someone else answer, but this time around, it didn’t seem like Tendō was going to be able to save him.

“Who was that girl you were talking to before the game? Is that your girlfriend? What’s it like for her knowing her boyfriend is being watched as a top player in all of Japan?”

Ushijima wondered why they didn’t ask you that question - what was he supposed to know about how you thought about it? At that thought, Ushijima decided not to run away from this interview. He didn’t want you to feel forced into explaining your feelings and knew that he had grown accustomed to all the questions and reporters - you might not have.

“She is my girlfriend, yes.” Ushijima stated flatly, his eyes subconsciously glancing in your direction. Tendō was saying something about the other team and making you laugh with this snarky and playful songs. A gentleness grew in Ushijima’s eyes, just watching you. It was subtle but later when you watched the recorded interview online, you’d be able to catch it. Your heart would flutter a little, wondering if he was really looking at you at the time. “I don’t want to speak for her feelings, but she’s always very proud of the team and our performance.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Almost 2 years now.”

“Must be young love then,” the reporter had grinned, nodding to themselves in satisfaction.

There were a few more questions but Ushijima’s mind had practically left the interview already. He thought about what the reporter said, calling it young love. He had heard his mother describe her feelings towards his father like that. It had been young love.

But was that how young love ended? Was it always a crash and burn that ended in his mom’s quiet cries when she thought he couldn’t hear?

Ushijima’s mind filled with worry, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. There was a pit of nerves that sat in his chest, refusing to move. What was there to be done to stop the crash of a young love?

You came over as he hydrated himself off to the side, the reporters finally leaving him alone, “They really want to know everything about you huh?” You laughed, smiling up at him and giving his arm a quick squeeze. “You should take some time to stretch out.”

Ushijima nodded but stood there for a moment longer, looking down at you, “I love you, Y/N.”

It was blunt but the look in his eyes said everything else. You stared at him in surprise. 2 years it had been and those words hadn’t left his lips before. It hadn’t really worried you - Ushijima was extremely loyal and even if you were worried, he was usually always busy with volleyball so it wasn’t like there was even time for him to find someone else. You often thought it was because of how things went with his parents that he took things slow… but why now?

“Do you not feel the same?” He asked after a moment, a small crease in his forehead.

You quickly shook your head, grinning up at him, “Of course I do! I just… I didn’t expect you to say it.”

Ushijima’s forehead creased further - had he not said it before? Didn’t she know?

Maybe this was what Tendō had talked about before. You’re a real quiet dude, Ushijima. I wonder if Y/N tries to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours like the rest of us. But you know, relationships have to have some sort of communication… you do tell her things don’t you?

At the time, Ushijima had thought Tendō was talking about normal things. Of course he told you about how volleyball was going, how he was struggling to keep his mind at school and not on the court, what kind of food he was craving, things like that. But… could Tendō have been talking about feelings?

“It’s okay,” you quickly interjected, giving him a smile, “I didn’t expect you to say it sooner or anything. The thing I love about you is that you always say what you mean, so I figured you just weren’t ready yet.”

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Y/N,” Ushijima commented softly, reaching his hand up and gently caressing your cheek. “I’m sorry I never said it. But I’ve always felt it.”

You could feel your face go hot in his hand, moving into it just a little more, “I’ve always loved you too, Ushijima,” you whispered to him gently. A small smile tugged at his lips and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking your advice and starting to stretch out his limbs.

After that, he started saying it a little more often. Communication seemed to be important to a relationship, this he understood. So if that’s what was needed, he would do it. This young love wouldn’t crash, he’d make sure of it.

** ** ** ** **

Haikyuu Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added :))

@thisnoodlewritesao3​ @scphiredrafts​ @aurumk​ @devilkittymusic​ @satan-ruler-of-hells​ @trashy-simp​ @jeppiet​ @lucyheartfilias-wife​ @darkvadeeer​

[adorethedistance]

A Pretty Good Bad Idea - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, peer pressure kinda, very mild n fluffy

Words: 1865

Summary: Touring with the Julie and The Phantoms cast as a dancer has been the best time of your life, and the only thing that could make it better is the reciprocated affections of a cute, blond drummer.

A/N: So this piece is 1) inspired by this interview and 2) entirely self indulgent. It’s something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind every time I’m doing warm ups, and putting it down on ,, digital paper is my only way to get rid of it lmao. I hope y’all enjoy bc I know this scenario makes me really happy and I love sharing my joy with y’all.

I let out an involuntary whine when I roll forward into my almost-center splits. My hips are so sore from yesterday’s performance I had to force myself to start stretching in the first place. Getting a head start, I arrived at the concert venue an hour earlier than call time to get my lengthy stretching routine out of the way before the other girls show up. Slowly but surely, the rest of the dancers arrived and we began getting ready together.

“I have a speaker!” Tori announces to the room upon entering which makes me jump up from my seat.

“Yes! May I do the honors and bless y’all with my musical theatre playlist?” The rest of the group cheers, exposing themselves for the theatre kids that we are. After hearing the chime that signifies the speaker-phone pairing, a few seconds pass before “Cell Block Tango” begins to play. The entire group feigns outrage but we know all the words and soon indulge in such shameful pandering. A good pre-show playlist is what really gets me amped up for performing and after yesterday’s queue of ‘today’s hits’ pop, the musical theatre is a nice change of pace.

Since I’d gotten here so early, I decided to do my makeup before stretching and I still had time to spare. The only thing left for me to do was to get in costume but I’d wait until a little closer to showtime so that I could still eat and drink for the time being. This also meant I was free to roam and bother other people as they got ready, doing what I’d done almost an hour ago.

“So, Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you and Owen?” I feel my breathing halt for a microsecond before looking up at, one of the other dancers and also my friend, Ella. My eyebrows are cinched in confusion as I try my best to figure out what it is she’s getting at.

“I don’t know, Ella. What is going on with me and Owen?”

“Oh come on. Your Instagram story from yesterday?” Oh. That.

“We just went to lunch?” I seemingly ask more than state.

“Yeah. Just the two of you. Don’t hold out on us, we wanna know what’s going on!”

“Really, Ella, there’s nothing going on. We’re just getting to know each other better.”

“Just getting to know each other better? Or getting to know each other better?” Tori butts in, dusting her cheeks with a subtle highlight.

“The first one?”

“How many times have you hung out?”

“Just the once.”

“Are you planning another date?”

“It wasn’t a date-”

“Do you want us to help wingman you?”

“I really don’t-”

“Hey.” The rapid-fire of questions cease when the gang of us look up to see Owen himself standing in the doorway.

“Speak of the devil,” Tori snickers as the rest of the girls slowly disperse and smugly resume doing their makeup. Owen makes a face in reaction to her comment but chooses not to pry.

“Could I borrow some hairspray? This one piece of hair won’t stay.” Despite each of the girls having a full can of hairspray on hand, nobody makes a move to give him the product, indicating that I should be the one to help him out. Rolling my eyes at the look Ella is giving me through the mirror, I stand from my chair and hand Owen the can of hairspray. He then looks straight ahead and moves to use the product but I stop him before he can.

“What’s your plan?”

“What?”

“Are you just gonna spray the piece?”

“...yeah?”

“That’s not gonna work since the rest of your hair already has product in it. Can I help you?” Owen nods amiably and takes a seat after I gesture for him to sit in my chair. I then realize my mistake as I need the comb on the grey countertop, and have to consequently reach past Owen in a way that wouldn’t be so compromising had I not worn such a low-cut top. Thankfully it’s over as fast as it began, and walking to the sink in the corner of the dressing room, I run the cool water over the bristles. It isn’t until I turn off the tap that I notice how eerily quiet the room had gotten. None of the girls are talking, attentively studying my every move as I cross back to Owen.

“Is this Chicago?”

“Uh, yeah, We’re listening to my musical theatre playlist though, not the whole soundtrack,” I respond in spite of the nervous laugh that falls from my lips. The slight slouch in Owen’s posture doesn’t help me to see what I’m doing clearly enough. Using my index finger and an upturned palm, I tilt his chin up to get a better look at his hair, willfully ignoring the fact that he’s staring at me right now.

Still, silence fills the room as I take the wet comb through the front section of his hair where the stubborn strand won’t stay put. Once the water binds the pieces together, I grab my can of hairspray and struggle to uncap it. The outside is slick from god knows what, but thankfully Owen doesn’t let me struggle anymore and holds up his hands to wordlessly offer his help. I hand him the can, and he pops the top off after barely struggling. Handing the can back to me, he holds onto the lid, and the entire exchange remains completely silent.

I have to work quickly in my next step, but it’s not enough to distract from the fact that everyone in the room is watching me intently. Holding the aerosol can away from the crowd of people, I put some of the product on the comb and quickly work it into Owen’s hair while it’s still wet. Once the comb has formed his hair to my liking, I stop brushing it through in fear of the now dry hairspray ruining the shape. Then, I use my left hand to shield Owen’s eyes from getting any product in them before spraying the offending area to seal in my hard work.

The sound of a cell door sliding closed signifies the end of the song, and I wait for a second, eagerly anticipating the next song to play. Upon hearing the staccato piano notes of “Bad Idea” from Waitress, a smile appears on my face.

“I love this song.” Lunging back on my right leg, I create a little distance between us to make sure I didn’t completely butcher the rest of his hair, singing as I do.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I know, I totally agree.” Pleasantly surprised by his joining in, my smile grows bigger.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I’ve never known anything so true-”

“It’s a terrible idea, me and you.” The effortlessness that the two of us find in harmonizing is a genuine shock and an absolute thrill all at once. Once Owen sees how excited I am by his joining in me, it’s like a switch had been flipped; the two of us immediately slip into Actor Mode and begin to sing the song as if we were performing it on a Broadway stage.

“You have a wife.” I take a small step back out of the character’s hesitation.

“You have a husband.” Owen mirrors my action.

“You’re my doctor-” I cross my arms across my chest, but release my right hand to gesture to Owen standing in front of me.

“You’ve got a baby coming-” He uses both hands to gesture back to me in my ‘pregnant’ state.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you,” the two of us turn slightly away from facing one another in false bashfulness. When the music picks up, the two of us avidly step toward one another to come together. In perfect synchronization, I grab Owen’s forearms and his hands face upwards to hold onto my elbows.

“Let’s just keep kissing ‘til we come to.”

“Heart, stop racing, let’s face it-” Owen pivots his step out to the side to face forward, extending his right arm which cues me to turn into him and take his other hand to spin out.

“Making mistakes like this will make worse what is already pretty bad.” Then he extends his right arm forward, and I turn into him once again.

“Mind, stop running. It’s time we just let this thing go.” Instead of spinning out again, I stop in front of him where he wraps both of his arms around me.

“It was a pretty good bad idea,” in our harmony I cast my gaze upward to see Owen staring right back down at me, and I feel like I’m seeing stars, “Wasn’t it though?”

The two of us continue dancing and singing with one another as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s only the two of us, here and now. The other girls in the room don’t miss the way I seem to smile like never before, and I sure as hell don’t miss the way my stomach fills with butterflies. When he holds me so close and dear for each intimate moment of the song, I’m seeing stars. A bold happiness consumes me, the same happiness I felt when Owen and I laughed over lunch in that small pizzeria.

The final harmony draws the song to a close and when it finishes, the two of us fall into a breathless kind of laughter.

“I didn’t take a big enough breath for that last part.”

“Me neither.”

“Your hair stayed intact.”

“I must have a pretty good stylist.”

After recovering from our laughter the two of us wind up in a palpable stupor as we stare into one another’s eyes. A few blinks and my trance is broken, I become aware of our surroundings.

“I should get dressed soon, and you definitely need to get dressed.” Owen nods still somewhat breathless.

“Yeah. See you later for pulse?”

“Save me a spot,” I joke as he backs out of the threshold of our dressing room. Leaning against the doorframe I watch him disappear into his assigned dressing room with a small smile still lingering on my features.

“Just getting to know each other my ass!”

“What the heck was that?”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to wingman you?”

“Do you even need a wingman after something like that?”

Turning on my heel, I face the bunch of insatiable dancers and shake my head in disbelief.

“We were just acting, you guys.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe you were acting, but he sure as hell wasn’t. Did you see the way he was looking at you? He is totally in love with you.” Ella shakes me by my shoulders.

“He’s just a really good performer is all.”

“When is your next date?” she completely ignores me.

“Okay-”

“Oh, and I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding-”

“It was just a song, Ella.”

“-Oh my god you guys are gonna have the cutest kids! I mean, your hair with his eyes and cheekbones? Ahh! The cutest.”

***

A/n: the way that being on tour isn’t the most unrealistic part of this fic, but instead Owen actually knowing the lyrics is? Work diva.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayenneferburnham​ @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​ @celestialmolina​ @lilyjoyner​ 

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

We've seen the soft side of having a poly relationship with all the boys, but what about the nsfw side? (Perfectly fine to be vague or only slightly nsfw, I couldn't remember which way you lean on nsfw content 😅)

I already have so many NSFW ones for each of them I couldn’t think of much new so sorry if these are not as horny as you wanted xox

Leo

so on Leo’s nights with you he likes to treat you like a lady in the streets and a whore in the sheets

that’s just how it is

omg he will mark you up in places the others can see

just as a little reminder of “I was here first” for when they want to do it

always has his hands on you in private, kind of in public too but that’s more subtle

when he makes you cum, he wants you to scream his name loud enough for the others to hear

so they know what he can do to you

not the best at sharing, even though he tries, so even on your nights with others he’ll give you *that* look which kind of means “you flaunt it anymore and there’ll be hell to pay on your night with me...”

will dress you up in his clothes to walk around the lair as a territorial thing so you still have his scent on you

omg he likes to cum on you as well, just another way of marking you as his even if it’s temporary 

oh so competitive!

“can the others make you feel like this? I didn’t think so” while he’s inside you

wants you on his lap in front of the others to show them who’s boss that night

will 100% pull rank all the time to impress you/turn you on

calls you “little miss” in front of everyone to make you blush

oh the showers together...

The others can’t get in there for a solid hour while he’s just pounding you against the wall and the room echos so they can hear every little noise and moan...

the training room sex is something else, the second he sees those legs when you squat he is dying of thirst

but he always cleans up after himself so it’s fine

Raph

The big daddy is hoommeee

and Christ is he big

will mark you up *over* Leo’s ones to make them bigger and just to piss him off

lots of bickering between these two over you

not good at sharing, just straight up not good at it

you so much as look at one of the other boys on his day with you and he’s dragging you to the bedroom

so jealous 

will take out his jealousy on you

grunting as he thrusts into you “you would rather be with one of them? Let me show you what you’re missing”

you are on his lap at all times

must be touching you at all times

whether it be a hand on your thigh or his arm around you

shows you off too, will practically make you flash the others if you have red lingerie on

this is also to rile them up when they know they can;t have you yet

so wildly affectionate with you in front of the others

because he’s soft only for you

calling you kitten and kisses you everywhere to the extent it’s almost inappropriate 

size kink for sure, like you’re so tiny compared to him and he loves that and will need you pressed up against him all the time to remind how how little you are

jealous but trusts you so much to not get with one of the others on his day with you

does not trust them, tho

Mikey

Actually the best at sharing you

hey, he knows there’s a lot of love to go ‘round

will not, cannot and could not keep his hands off of you, not for a moment

worse than Raph with this

the praise he gives you and it’s always tmi even in front of his brothers

because they’ve all had you as well so it’s no big deal, right?

“y/n’s got the best head game in the biz” like Mikey can we not tell everyone in the room that, please??

so excited on his day with you

you will have to practically peel him off of you tho to do anything 

and stop him going down on you in shared areas like the living room or kitchen

because this boy loves oral, too much almost

and over stimulation is his thing

the others get the most pissed with him because of how good he is with you and how effortless it is

like he can do one little thing and have you laughing and turned on at the same time with ease

omg the after sex selfie game is strong

and he will send it to the group chat because he knows it’ll annoy them

he does get insecure though and need a few kisses that you still want him as much as the others

reassurance leads to sex, obvs

also loves to show you off in front of the others

especially when you’re in his colours since “orange is the best colour on you!”

will run into his brother’s room on his day with you to steal you away from them because your day with him can nver start too early

Donnie

oh he’s the petty kind of jealous

like scowling and shoulder bumping the others on their day with you

but his tune changes on your day with him

his love language is quality time so he will steal you away from the others

on your day with him, you’re wither locked in the bedroom or the lab with him

doesn’t want you even looking at his brothers

will tie you to the bed if necessary to keep you there

and has done this before...

always new toys and presents for you

but these are mostly for bedroom use because he wants to impress

sex is all about proving himself to you, so you will cum at least 3 times before he’s even half naked

loves marking you up in places the others can’t see

mainly your inner thighs 

will dote on you and brush your hair out after he’s messed it up in bed

oh he’s terrible on your days with the others

like sending you thirst trap photos because the others don’t look at your phone or really understand technology that well

will parade you around subtly when you’re legs have gone to jelly after what he’s done to you

because the others need to know that he’s a force to be reckoned with 

also very insecure that you don’t want him as much as the others

but he hides it and doesn’t really say like Mikey does

you can tell tho, so you always make a little extra effort with him

surprisingly horny on main, like all the time just better at hiding it than the others 

hand on your upper thigh when you sit next to/on his lap

the best at fingering in the game!

so when you’re in his lab chair with him, things get steamy real fast because he can multi task very well

yeah he can make you cum and save the world at the same time

[vigilvntes]

Totally Not a Date (Thor Odinson x Reader)

A/N: i'm pretty sure 'totally not a date' is the first fic i ever posted on here which is kinda crazy to me. anyway this is a rewritten version because honestly the first version just needs to be wiped from existence so here you go. enjoy :)

word count: 2,100+

You sat across from Tony and Pepper in an almost uncomfortable, deafening silence. You knew from the very start that it was a bad idea, but you had promised Pepper that you would be there, and that you would have a date.

See, Pepper had informed you only three nights ago that she had made a reservation at the hot, new restaurant in the city, and that she had accidently made a reservation for four rather than two. Of course, you were suspicious, why wouldn't you be? It was not often that Pepper Potts herself made mistakes and having worked for a guy like Tony for years before the pair grew romantically, she had mastered the art of making reservations and booking tables. Not to mention she was a complete perfectionist. But you chose to shrug it off.

"So, what's the plan then? Me, you, Nat and Wanda?" You asked nonchalantly, your eyes glued to your phone. Pepper's small laugh only seconds later tore them right away. You looked up at her, narrowing your eyes, "What?"

Pepper raised her eyebrows at you, a smirk on her features, "As much as I would love to treat the girls, I reserved the table for a date night..." Your face suddenly dropped as you began to catch her drift. "So, since there's four seats I thought I'd ask you."

"But there's four seats, so me and...?"

She let lout a breathy laugh, "I was hoping you'd have that part covered for me. Be there for eight, and make sure you bring a date." Before you could respond, she had turned on her heels and left you sitting in the front room of the Avengers tower, completely shook.

You considered bailing more than once during the days leading up to the date. However, you found yourself stood outside of the restaurant at eight, awaiting your friends and your 'date' for the night. Tony and Pepper had arrived on time, and the chilly winds of New York that night had prompted the three of you to enter the restaurant and wait for your date inside. You hadn't told either of them who you would be bringing, for fear of being teased by Tony relentlessly for hours beforehand, and because he had warned you that he wasn't entirely sure he'd make it in time. Of course, you didn't mind, it was nothing more than a fake date. Nothing important. So why did you feel so down when the clock read 8:15 and no one had turned up for you?

Tony cleared his throat, breaking the silence which had engulfed the three of you. "Are we... Uh, are we ready to order?"

You were grateful for Tony and his appetite; you couldn't stand the quiet atmosphere, or the sad looks Pepper kept throwing your way. You were just about to open your mouth to let Tony know it was okay to order, but a deep, booming voice, one you didn't expect to hear tonight, stopped you in your tracks.

"My apologies for being so late. I had business to take care of in Asgard." You turned your head quickly, and your jaw dropped at the sight of the tall, blonde Asgardian prince as he pulled out the chair beside you and took a seat. He looked good, you had to admit. He wore a black dress shirt and black dress pants, and his hair had been pulled up into a bun. It was an almost effortless look, something you knew he had thrown together quickly upon his arrival to the tower, but he pulled it off regardless.

Tony was the first to reply, "No worries, big guy. We were just about to order." Tony glanced over at Pepper, a small smirk on his lips. Judging from the look of utter shock on your face, Tony could tell that Thor was most definitely not who you were expecting as your date, but he was excited to see how it would pan out.

You couldn't lie to yourself, Thor was one of the most attractive men you had ever laid your eyes on, and you would be being dishonest if you said you didn't have a little crush on him. He was always kind to you, polite. The issue was, the two of you had never held a real conversation for more than five minutes. He wasn't around as often as Steve or Tony, Thor spent most days in Asgard or any of the other nine realms attempting to fix the mess his brother had made, which left little room for any form of bonding between the two of you.

As Pepper and Tony broke out into conversation about the latest Stark- whatever. You didn't really care all that much. You leaned to the side and mumbled a harsh, "What are you doing here?" You didn't mean for it to come across so mean, but you were shocked. You had expected anyone but Thor.

He let out a loud chuckle, which caught the attention of the couple sat opposite you, as you notice them glance towards the both of you. Was anything ever subtle when it came to Thor? You had figured out incredibly quickly that the answer was no. When the two had looked away and continued their conversation, Thor finally gave you the answers you wanted. "The Captain told me that he had already informed you of his absence."

"Well, he lied." You'd surely chastise him for that later, depending on how the night went.

"He had somewhere to be. So, when I returned, he proposed that I should come here instead. How could I pass up going to dinner with a lady like yourself?" He grinned.

You felt your face flush as you just stared at him, not all too sure whether Thor meant that or whether he was just trying to make you feel more comfortable with the idea of him being there rather than Steve. You weren't sure whether it was working, you just knew his presence alone made you feel flustered.

You only realised how embarrassingly long you had been staring at Thor when the waiter interrupted. Luckily, you had time to pull yourself together, as the waiter recognised both Tony and Thor and shyly asked for a picture, to which they both obliged. He took Tony and Pepper's orders first, before turning to you. "What can I get for you and your lovely date?"

Just as you had gotten yourself together, you were broken right back down again, feeling your face flushing once again. "I- No... We're not dating. I- the reservations... They were for four people and... It's not a date - "

"Were here as friends. Third and fourth wheeling, you could say." Thor interrupted, covering for you.

The waiter, not entirely convinced, just nodded his head slowly, "Right... Got it." Before taking your orders and swiftly leaving.

Tony scoffed, "For future reference, you're so not convincing, (Y/)." He let out a chuckle when you shot him an annoyed glare.

Again, Tony and Pepper fell swiftly into conversation, and you wished it were that easy for you and Thor. After a minute's silence, you thought you'd make a little small talk. "So, how's Asgard?"

He smiled and leant back in his seat, "Asgard is... Fine. We're still trying to restore peace amongst the Nine Realms, and we've suffered some great losses."

"I'm sorry to hear that Thor. And your parents? And... him?" You assumed Thor would know who you were speaking of, considering he had waged a war against Earth only a year ago.

"Loki will spend the remainder of his days in a cell. My father couldn't see the son he raised be sentenced to death. My mother grieves for him every day." He replied, being as honest with you as he could.

"I'm sorry about that. It must be rough." All the talk of his brother and Asgard was starting to take a slight toll on the night for you, and you could see he felt the same. You desperately hoped for a change of subject.

Thor took your hand, something you didn't expect him to do, but it felt so... right? He was attractive, that much you knew. But did you really have feelings for him this whole time? Surely he wasn't just touching you, and throwing those gorgeous, heart-warming smiles at you out of kindness? Out ofdoing Steve a favour?

 "Don't be sorry. I don't mind you asking." He paused for a moment, offering you a smile whilst stroking the top of your hand with his thumb, "How's the creature at your residence?"

Furrowing your eyebrows for a second, you tried to understand what he was talking about. Until it dawned on you. You laughed, "The creature? You mean my cat, Florence?"

He nodded, "Yes, the cat....creature." 

You shook your head, letting out a chuckle, "She's fine. She's getting fatter, though. I'm a little worried about her." You paused for a few moments, before you realised that Thor had never actually met your cat. "How did you find out about Florence?"

"The Captain let me see pictures of her on his device. I reckon I'd quite enjoy her company." He grinned at you again, and you couldn't help but melt a little more. And even more when you realised he still held your hand in his.

The rest of the evening went exceptionally well. Yourself and Thor seemed to never run out of things to talk about, and he found himself regretting having not approached you sooner. The two of you got along like a house on fire as he, in all his loud, eccentric glory, told you stories of his childhood and the adventures he had across the Nine Realms with his friends, whilst you listened tentatively, completely taken in by his every word.

At one point, as he spoke of Asgard, he offered to take you there one day, claiming that his mother would 'love your company'. You were sure he was just saying that, that he didn't actually mean it, so you politely declined his offer this time.

"As you wish. But I'll get you to agree one day. I swear." You could only laugh at his determination for you to visit his home.

When you left the restaurant, you and Thor walked ahead of Pepper and Tony, still deep in conversation. You grinned at him, "We should watch a movie when we get back. I was thinking a Disney movie?"

He nodded, smiling down at you, "That would be wonderful. I like the one about the lions and the kings."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You mean...the Lion King."

He pointed at you, "Yes! That one! How did you know?" You just laughed in response.

Behind you, as they watched the whole scene, Tony scoffed, "Look at them, pretending not to be head over heels for each other. Disgusting. It makes me feel sick."

Pepper chucked lightly in response, nudging Tony, "Shush, you."

extended ending

When you entered the tower, Thor's arm wrapped around your shoulder, you saw none other than Steve Rogers sat in the common area. You raised your eyebrows, "Steve? What are you doing here? I thought you went away on some mission?"

He shrugged, trying his best to keep a straight face and a smooth voice, "Yeah... About that. Fury called off the mission. Said another team fixed whatever issues they were having."

You didn't believe that for one second and neither did Thor, but you chose not to press the matter, honestly not caring whether Steve had set you up.

"How was your date?" He asked.

You opened your mouth, about to deny for the second time that night that it was in fact, not a date, but as you felt Thor's fingers gently brushing your shoulders, you gave in. Of course it was a date. A date that you hadn't agreed to, a date that had shocked you, but a date nonetheless. And a damn good one. "It was great, actually." You looked up at Thor, "I'll go find a movie."

He nodded, "I'll go get snacks."

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stared at him in confusion, "You're still hungry? After everything you ate at the restaurant?"

Steve nodded to himself, a small smile on his lips as he listened to your playful banter. His plan had worked, and he was damn proud of himself.

[bakusquad-assemble]

Headcanons about the Bakubois seducing/flirting lines or techniques?

Bakusquad flirting headcannons:

I wanted to do this for the bakubois while they’re still in UA and sweet little awkward dating babies so these are very sfw. If you guys wanted a part 2 I can crank the spice up to 11 and make a nsfw one!

Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou  is completely inept at communicating his feelings properly.

Which is why he’s pretty terrible at flirting with you at first.

Any time he tries to flirt, it always comes out wrong or in the form of insults, which only makes him more aggravated with the entire situation.

It takes a while for you to notice the subtle ways his eyes linger for just a bit too long.

Or the way his cheeks flush ever so slightly when he tells you to:

“Shut the fuck up, dumbass!” 

Or the way his body tenses up uncomfortably when you get just a bit too close to him.

He is definitely more of a silent and physical flirter. 

He’ll go out of his way to stand near you, even though his body language is closed off and cold, it’s pretty evident he just enjoys being in your presence,

The only way he’s completely comfortable showing you some sort of praise is through sparring and your hero training. And even though that’s sometimes undermined with a snide comment as well, having Bakugou compliment your form or notice your improvement makes your heart soar.

Favorite pet name: dumbass, idiot, my girl/boy/person

Kirishima Eijiro

This boy right here is an absolute hopeless romantic!

Though he definitely struggles a bit at first with his confidence.

But you bet your sweet ass Kiri is is always going to give you endless praise and validation.

You did something different to your hair? He’s going to notice and go out of his way to tell you just how amazing you look!

“Wow Y/N! That really suits you!” He’d say with a blush evident on his features.

Maybe you’re feeling a bit off one day and Kiri immediately notices, trying to come up with someway to make you feel better because;

 “you’re just so beautiful when you smile!” so he plans this big elaborate day for you full of flowers and your favourite snacks and all the words of affirmation you can handle!

This boy is just too good and sweet for his own good. 

Also can we just talk about how he’d absolutely serenade you?? Like full on boombox at your dorm door, not even caring about being embarrassed because he wants the whole school to know how important you are to him.

Favourite pet name: Baby, Doll, Sweetheart. He’s a classics man.

Kaminari Denki

Kaminari’s got the spirit, just…not a lot of game

He’s a HUGE flirt with everyone, but he definitely goes out of his way to make his crush on you known. The only problem is he pretty much solely relies on lame pick up lines and they’re literally so bad.

But he never gives up,

He loves showering you with compliments and praises because damn you are so pretty and he’s never going to stop telling you that!

He normally makes pretty inappropriate jokes with his friends, but when it comes to you, he always wants to make sure to never overstep your boundaries or make you uncomfortable. So when he picks his pick up lines, he tends to rely more on the comedy based ones and less on the raunchy or inappropriate ones.

 Because they have the best reaction from you, and even if they don’t land he’s able to play them off as just a little joke and hide his embarrassment.

“Hey Y/N! Are you a Camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile!”

“You must be exhausted Y/N! You’ve been running through my mind all day!”

You honestly find his cheesy pick up lines kind of endearing, and cant help but laugh and send subtle roasts about them his way.

Which only encourages him to look up more pick up lines to share with you every. Single. Day. but you don’t mind a bit.

Because they make you laugh, and you have the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard in his life

Favourite pet name: Babe, Baby, Cutie, or any other cute nickname he can think of! I feel like he’d be the absolute master at coming up with fun and interesting nicknames.

Sero Hanta

Okay okay hear me out, this boy can FLIRT

He has a very effortless confidence that most people are drawn to, yourself included

He’s pretty fearless when it comes to saying what’s on his mind, and flirting is no exception.

Like…he’s absolutely not afraid to call you attractive/hot in front of everyone. 

“Damn Y/N! You’re lookin’ hot today!”

Or leave lingering touches on your shoulders or arms in such a reassuring and comforting way that just sort of makes you melt.

Is a little bit more inappropriate than the other boys, but definitely never wants to make you uncomfortable.

Also can we talk about him probably being able to dance though? He 100% will offer to teach you how to salsa (because we stan this Latin king lets be real) Because any excuse to have his hands on you or spend some quality one on one time with you, he’s absolutely not going to pass up. 

He’ll let his hands rest on your waist as he tries to guide your movements, his own hips moving with ease in such an enticing way that you’re both just flustered at the end of your session. But you’ll always keep coming back, because there’s just something about Sero. 

Favourite pet names: Hottie, hotstuff. also quick side note! I’m so sorry for my EXTENDED leave of absence! I took a step back from anime while I was in school but like ayye hi I’m back and ready to write headcannons and short requests! If you have any ideas or prompts send them my way! i still have a few in my inbox that i am working on but like letsss gooo. Let me know if you guys want a part two to this one too!

[kuroos-moon]

『Hate’s Twin Called Love』

— request by anon whose initial ask i could no longer find 😫

❥ pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader 

❥ genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, denial  

❥ warning/s: language

❥ wc: 2.4k 

“I got here first,” you frown, narrowing your eyes as you placed a hand on the chair nearest to the window. 

“I placed my bag here, which means I got here earlier,” he casually replies, wondering why you won’t back down despite your height difference and his intimidating facade. 

Your frown deepens, and he does the same when neither of you give in. “I don’t care, I wanna sit here,” you say, your inner brat surfacing just because the way he glared at you ticked you off, so you stubbornly sit on the desk. 

“What a nuisance,” he grunts, sitting down on his chair as he rightfully should. 

Ever since then, you never passed up the opportunity to piss him off or give him even the slightest inconvenience of the day, devilish, you’re well aware. He’s the devil himself though, and only you could point that out. With him showing a sly grin your way when you lose a pen, only for him to proudly use it for you to see. 

“Hajime you asshole, give me back my pen,” you give him a death glare, and he innocently looks at you, acting confused. “I don’t have it, y/n.”

“Cut the bullshit, that’s my only one,” you grimace, irritated at the fact that of all the numerous pranks he could do on your never-ending war ever since highschool, he just had to steal your pen right before a test. 

“Don’t blame me when you’re the one who lost it,” he blinks, perfecting the art of acting clueless. “Give it back I don’t have another one!” You raise your voice, and he stops scribbling, looking at you in amusement. 

“What?” You huff, and he only chuckles under his breath, momentarily biting your pen to further irritate you. “I’ll fucking kick your ass after this,” you bite your tongue, wanting to scream at him if it weren’t for the many other students and a strict teacher here with you. 

And that’s just one of many encounters with the sly seemingly-mature ace who knew just how to annoy you like it were his second nature, but deep down, your day’s never complete without the usual sarcastic banters or the subtle mouthing of ‘fuck you’ or ‘whatcha looking at’ between classes, that’s why you sit bored in class for a few days when they’re excused for practice. 

Your happiness literally comes from seeing him so mad that he’s speechless as he sees you’ve uploaded an embarrassing baby picture source: oikawa or as he realizes you’re the one who’s been giving away his number. 

For him, you’re the exact same, you’re the devil’s spawn. Trotting along so casually as if you were an angel, only for the disguise to fall off the moment you open your mouth, profanity after profanity especially when you were talking to him. It wasn’t long before your string of curses was music to his ears and the highlight of his day, taking pleasure in having you yell at him, or in especially irritating occurrences, you’re throwing things at him. 

It just so happens when you’re casually sitting in the corner of the room, minding your own business as you listen to music. “Y/N-CHAAN!” You look up to see Toru, out of breath as he leant on the doorway of your classroom . “Iwa-chan’s talking with some girl, come look,” he grins, and just like that, your eyes twinkle with excitement. 

Time to to get back at him for that ruined test, you smirk to yourself, the clueless Iwaizumi standing at the end of the stairwell as he flirts with the poor girl who didn’t know at all how much of an asshole he was. 

“Babe!” You exclaim, the fakest and widest smile on your lips as you throw yourself at him, loving how he cringed away from you the moment you wrap your arms around his torso. “What the fu-

“I missed you, shall I come over tonight?” You gush at him, locking your hold on him with intertwined fingers as he tried to push you off without actually using too much force to hurt you. “Cut it out, you little shit,” he mumbles to your ear as he stills, waiting for you to unwrap yourself from him. 

“Who’s this Iwa-chan? Is she a friend?” You say enthusiastically, the deadly aura he gave off only making you want to piss him off more. “Iwaizumi is she your girlfriend? I thought you hated each other,” she raises a brow and you smile, looking up at Iwa. 

“That’s just our love language though, isn’t it babe?” 

He has had enough. It’s been days since you’ve bantered, the only interaction the past few days were the failed attempts to trip each other in the halls, but he wasn’t in class the whole week. Some part of him thought that he was relieved in your absence, but lately he’s been feeling empty. 

“Iwaizumi?” The blonde girls huffs, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“Iwa-chan, doesn’t she know how much you love me?” You pout, squeezing his bicep which you really hadn’t realize was this rock hard until now. It was the look of annoyance and pure hatred that made you smirk for only him to see, but you thought wrong. 

He wasn’t mad because you interrupted his romantic stairwell rendezvous, nor was he mad that you literally show up out of nowhere, being this close to him. He was irritated because you thought you were winning, you thought you were pissing him off; but joke’s on you, he actually found himself amused by this whole ordeal. 

“Babe let’s just go, you’re not cheating on me are you?” You add fuel to what you thought was a burning flame, thinking you had succeeded on ruining his day. 

“How ridiculous, you know I only have eyes for you,” he leans down, a teasing and excruciating mere inch between your faces, the side of his lips curving upwards so subtly you’re not sure it’s really there. Your eyes widen, and his grin grows as he could practically feel you stop breathing. 

He watches you storm off, knowing fully well he was victorious for this round. 

Iwaizumi - 1 

Y/n - 0 (Loser) 

The game against Seijoh and some other school was over, and like every other game, you got first-row seats, it was the one and only time wherein you actually admire Hajime (admittedly). You stood outside, waiting for your friends to finish gushing over Oikawa and you look up questioningly when you see pairs of shoes on the ground. 

“Uhm, do you guys want something?” You ask, confused, somehow feeling ganged up on with three girls surrounding you. 

“We’ll cut to the chase, stay away from Hajime,” she spitefully says, and you snort the moment you hear his name. 

“You don’t even have to beg me for it,” you say and they furrow their brows. “You’re acting so coy! Pretending to be some goofy girl who tries to piss him off only to get to spend more time with him!” 

You sigh, “I’d kill to have him away from me for as long as possible, what are you guys even on about?” 

“Just stay away from him y/n l/n, he’s mine.” Cue another chuckle from you, “yours? I question your taste but Hajime doesn’t belong to you,” you sweetly smile, not knowing where the sudden irritation came from. 

Seriously, how could she say he was hers when he probably doesn’t even know her name like the stupid non-caring jerk he is, but you somehow thank him for it, somehow relieved that he could barely name a girl in your class that wasn’t you. 

“What do you know?!” She seethes, about to land a palm right across your cheek but it doesn’t come, instead, she stood petrified as she meets Iwaizumi’s gaze, securely standing behind you as he firmly grasped her wrist.  

“That’s quite enough,” he glares, the girl immediately withdrawing her hand. “What are you here for?” You bitterly ask, the previous encounter in the stairwell still having your hate meter for him past its max. 

“Y/n-baaaaka, where’re those killer moves of yours that almost have me injured all the damn time,” he says, his lips tugging downwards as he looked at you, and you stiffen under his touch when he rests his elbow on your shoulder. Now looking at the girls, “You’re quite the troublesome bird-brained bunch, pathetic too. You better not come anywhere near us again,” he grunts, a dull ring to it in fact; but his usual voice was also usually intimidating, hence the effortless success of scaring away the girls for good. 

You scoff, “what’s with the sudden chivalry?” 

He raises a brow at you before a scowl forms at his lips, “shouldn’t you thank me?” 

“What? For coming to my rescue? How charming, nothing less to expect from our ace,” you huff, turning around to walk away. You know how much he disliked you, so why was he being kind? Why do you a favor and rest his elbow on your shoulder and act like friends, maybe lovers— you recall the position you were in last time, you clinging to his arm while he leaned in, face painfully close to yours. 

“Did you really mean that? You’d kill to have me away from you,” he chuckles, “what strong emotion,” and you halt, turning around to look at his expression which resembled the masking of hurt. “You were listening?” You ask, but he merely walks towards you.

“Thought I’d hear some sort of love confession,” he stops a foot away from you, “but that was fucking disappointing.” You’re beyond confused at this point, why in the world would he expect a confession out of you? YOU of all people, you’re enemies, same sides of a pole that simply will and never attract. 

“What would you have wanted me confess?” You narrow your eyes at him; your pathetic attempt to be defensive when in reality your walls were all crashing down, and he’d be free to walk in and capture you his; vulnerable and genuine, free from your lies and forced obliviousness. 

“I’m exhausted,” he says, leaving you stupefied when he holds your chin between his thumb and index, warm from having spiked the ball multiple times as the ace from the game earlier on. “I don’t give a fuck, just keep your fucking hands off of me Iwaizumi,” you glare, making him grin. 

“You swear a lot with that pretty mouth of yours,” he presses on you more, knowing this would either be a hit or miss. A hit for when you crumble and give in to him, spilling the truth about how you truly felt which he has long figured, because he can’t be the only one who felt this way, no? 

The miss wouldn’t be much of a miss though, he’d still love it if you exploded, punching him or something but at the same time postponing your long overdue truthful conversations because you convinced yourself too much that love and hate were separated by a thick line, which was far from how it actually was. 

“I hate you,” you spat, but he can’t see any hatred in your eyes at all. “Does that mean you don’t want me?” He taunts, his lips inching closer and closer to yours. You only find yourself looking down, unable to breathe at the suffocating feeling of having your emotions come out all at once. 

love or hate, which was it? The latter. No, it couldn’t be, you wouldn’t be finding yourself getting lost in his eyes if you did truthfully despise him. Then, was it the former? Perhaps... Maybe... Probably explaining why you were going to say it, “if you don’t kiss me right now, Hajime, I will.” 

Bingo, he wins, it was a hit. 

In one swift motion, he locks lips with you, your hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders as he tilts his head sidewards to deepen the kiss, not wanting to spare an inch of your mouth. It was the perfect kiss, one to show your yearning for the other through questionable means such as inconveniencing the other’s life, and one to express the raw passion of love that without a doubt made every bit of you ecstatic. 

“Oya, Oya, what’s this?” Oikawa’s annoying voice reaches his ears, Iwaizumi pulls away with one last peck on your lips. “I’ll fucking kill you,” he mutters under his breath, Toru flinching before letting out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, well then, I’ll leave you two to it,” he grins, waving at you before running off. 

“So you’ve had a crush on me all along, huh,” you smirk at him, his ears turning red as he looks at you. You snicker, poking at him teasingly as he covers his face with his hand. 

“Don’t push me,” he finally says, and you let out another laugh, of course you’re going to push his buttons, “eh, so what are we now, babe? I don’t think I like you at all, honey, that was charity.” 

“Charity?” He muses, grabbing your wrist to whisper closely in your ear, you gasp, his breath against your skin leaving you flustered. “If anything, all I did was fan service.” HE HAD YOU ALL FLUSTERED AND SPEECHLESS AND FOR WHAT? 

You push him away, irritation making you want to breathe fire, “FAN SERVICE?” You exclaim, wearing the deepest frown he had seen on you making him laugh. 

“Kidding, kidding,” he nonchalantly says, and you scowl, “I hate you.” 

“If you hate me so much then why not go out with me?” He says, all seriousness in his tone.

“What?” You blink, that was sudden.

“You should date me, cling to me, piss the fuck off other girls who try to get in between, and make sure I see your face everyday, that would ultimately make me miserable, and you hate me so much that you want that, don’t you?” He finishes, hands in his pockets as he looked straight at you. 

This time, he actually feared how this would turn out. He had revealed his cards already, there’s no going back to normal after this, things could only go from being strangers or to being lovers. 

“Sure, let’s date. Give me the luxury to annoy you everyday, and you better not break up with me for it,” you smile, and he chuckles, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“Then don’t break up with me if I make you mad like ten times a day,” a soft subtle smile plays at his lips while you both walk hand in hand together outside the building, the sunset striking so beautifully at the two of you but you didn’t have much time to admire it as you were kept preoccupied with each other’s conversations. 

_____________________

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh 

[whitherliliesbloom]

towards a tomorrow

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #28 - bow ]

[ illya & kirishimi ] ★ [ 2,062 words ]  ★ [ period drama au ]

for matchi’s period drama au. briefly mentions illyanaud, laurelis and kaye. 

bow-  to bend your head or body forward, especially as a way of showing someone respect or expressing thanks 

kirishimi didn’t care for frilly dresses or etiquette unless it was to make a statement - so she gets lessons from the most ladylike friend she knows

“Gods, shite! How do people breath in this stupid thing?!” 

Amongst the light breeze of the midafternoon wind, the melodic chirping of the songbirds and the sound of water splashing freely from the white marble fountain, Kirishimi’s less than ladylike words pierce through the air as she puffs her chest in with a low grumble and is followed by the soft and gentle bell-like chimes of a younger girl’s giggles a few feet next to her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think the corset can be loosened any further, I made it as loose as I could for you already.”

“Can I just take it off then?” Kirishimi asks, hopeful even as the shorter lalafellin girl shakes her head calmly with am apologetic frown, her vibrant violent eyes swirling with sympathy.

“I wish you could but... Laurelis designed the dress with your corset in mind.. It just wouldn’t fit if you didn’t-”

“Shite.”

Yet another swear tumbles carelessly out of Kirishimi’s lips, and Illya lets out a soft, barely audible sigh before flashing her taller friend yet another gentle smile.

“How about a short break then? I think you’ll feel a little better if you take a breather.”

“Yes please!”

Without even a seconds’ hesitation, Kirishimi grabs the frame of the hoop skirt beneath her bright orange dress with her hands and marches to the gazebo before slumping down onto the white garden chair and kicking her matching pair of high heels off. She leans down to massage the soles of her feet with a grimace, feeling light indents where the rim of the heels had dug into her feet and wondering if there was going to be blisters forming under her hosiery by the end of the day.

In contrast to the almost unruly way she’d retreated under the shade of the white and purple gazebo, Illya in comparison was the very picture of elegance. With only the tips of her thumb and index finger, the young lady lifts the hem of her frilly lavender dress before climbing the steps up to the gazebo. Despite wearing lacey embroidered heels that seemed like they were even more of a pain to wear than her own, Illya’s balance was perfect, each footstep graceful and deliberate so much that Kirishimi could barely even hear the little tap of her heels against the floor. 

Even the way she sat upon the chair, taking her time to tuck her dress beneath her thighs before sitting herself down and folding her hands neatly upon her lap - it wouldn’t have made Kirishimi felt self-conscious any other time before today. But it was exactly because she was here now, for the exact same reason she’d even agreed to commission an over the top ball gown from Laurelis that she swear to never wear outside of it’s intended use, that she quickly decided to correct her posture. 

The taller woman feels out of place - as she typically does, but especially next to her considerably more demure, ladylike friend. Surrounded by the jewel toned walls of the Skawi mansion, the flawless marble tile paths that circled the garden and practically shined in the sunlight and the bed of delicate spring flowers that filled the air with a light floral fragrance, it would be hard for her not to feel even a tiny bit like a fish out of water.

“Thanks again, Illya. For agreeing to teach me.” Kirishimi opts to speak, breaking the long hanging silence as if in sheepish apology. She knows she isn’t the best student, and so the least she could do was be cooperative and nice to the girl who is graciously lending her her time and efforts. 

“You’re very welcome, Kiri.” With a radiant smile, Illya nods her head, her innocent expression bright and at home with her subtle movements of grace. The birds that sat upon the mansard roofs sing in tandem with the sweetness of Illya’s voice. “I’m honored that you would come to me for lessons about etiquette. Even if it is to...um... break the social construct.”

Mismatched eyes widen in a panic, and the older woman leans forward over the table and raises her voice a tad.

“Hey, I hope you don’t misunderstand me! There’s nothin’ wrong with being prim and proper! I’m not tryin’ to do anythin’ to disrespect you! I just-”

“I know.” Illya speaks, her brilliantly pure white hair fluttering gently in the breeze like a wavy silken veil over her head. “You’re just trying to be you. You have the courage and strength to stand up to people who would try to tell you do otherwise. I like that about you.” With yet another euphonious, soft giggle, Illya raises a hand up to press against her chest. “Besides, you wouldn’t have come to me for a favor if you truly did have malicious intent, would you? The fact that you called Laurelis and I for help means that you trust us.” 

A soft blush rises up to Kiri’s face where speckles of white snow glowed lightly from the heat from her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her gloved hand moves up to rub the side of her neck sheepishly, and she cannot help the toothy grin that adorns her face.

“I guess you’re right.” the woman murmurs. “I also... admire you a lot, you know? You’re so sweet, and nice... a bit too nice, honestly. You don’t even get angry when idiots spout lies about you...”

Kirishimi would be lying if she said she didn’t feel an immense amount of admiration for Illya’s ability to stay as calm and collected as she does - even above the seemingly effortless way she’d conduct herself like the society’s perfect definition of a ‘lady’. 

But there wasn’t envy... it wouldn’t be warranted, especially since Kirishimi knew that behind the perfectly immaculate way Illya would hold herself as the young mistress and future heiress of her family name, came a set of troubles and insecurities that she too was struggling with. 

It’s evident by the flicker of melancholy in Illya’s eyes, like a field of delphiniums and hydrangeas that were drooping in the midst of a drizzle of rain and grey storm clouds, even with a forced, stepford smile gracing her delicate and fair features. They were lovely, beautiful even in their imperfect sadness.. but Kiri could not bring herself to feel anything but sorry at the sight of them.

“And I wish I were even half as strong as you. You’re able to stand up for what you want, for who you are... If I had a fraction of the courage that you possessed then perhaps... I could have...” The girl looks down, the silver band that she’d refused to wear hidden deep in the depths of her dress pocket weighing far more heavily than it ever did before. “I could have stopped my uncle from calling for the engagement...”

The Skawi family had well deserved respect from the capital, and with it came a reputation and image they had to uphold. And with their fame, came the inevitable greed from the current head of the family - the man Illya could barely even bring herself to think of as family, the younger brother of the long deceased patriarch, Lachlan Skawi. 

Selling himself and the name of the Skawis wouldn’t be enough for the man - and so he’d sold the dignity of his niece as well by calling for an arranged marriage.. something that Kirishimi knew would not be solved with a few simple social statements and protests. It involved the name of the Skawi family, and worse still, it involved the capital. 

Internally, Kirishimi wonders what Young Master Alphinaud intends to do. Word about mistress Skawi’s engagement to one of the members of the royal bloodlines has spread far and wide by now, and he would undoubtedly be working tirelessly for a way to stop the marriage. 

But if the combined efforts of Laurelis’ family, the Leveilleur household, Hien’s influence as a well respected foreign emissary wasn’t enough to convince Illya’s uncle to call off the engagement, what else could they hope to do?

“You’re stronger than you think you are, Illya.” Kiri reassures, her tone gentler than is usual for her, as is the light, reassuring smile upon her face. “You took the first steps to realize your own dreams, didn’t ya?” 

Kiri gestures to the carnation earring she wore that dangled lightly with gleaming white pearls, and Illya raises a hand up to brush against her ear lightly. The earring was a gift from Master Alphinaud, the man she owes much to... Her mentor, her dearest friend and...

A dust of red rises up to Illya’s cheeks and spreads to the tips of her pointed ears as she nods.

“It’s... It’s thanks to everyone... and especially Master Alphinaud that.. that I finally started to learn medicine. If it weren’t for everyone’s support, I wouldn’t have-...”

Illya holds her tongue, pressing her lips into her fine line as Kiri allows the silence to fester, until she grins at the look of renewed determination upon the young maiden’s face.

No, Kirishimi is right. She certainly may owe much to her friends and loved ones, and she wouldn’t have taken that first steps towards realizing her dream to become a doctor had she not met Alphinaud... but it took great strides of her own too, a strength and new found courage to stand up to the ones who doubted her - one that she felt determined in full to carry on for as long as she needed until her dreams are fulfilled and she can be free from her own social constructs that are weighing her down.

“Once all this is over.. could you teach me how to fence, Kiri?” Illya asks, eliciting a surprised hum from her taller friend. 

“You wanna learn how to fence?” The woman asks... not in dissuation, of course... but in mild disbelief that a girl as sweet and gentle as Illya would be interested in the sport. She’d say yes, of course, regardless of Illya’s reasons. She’d teach Illya whatever she wanted to learn especially since the girl had been kind enough to be teaching her etiquette. But she still cannot help but to be a bit curious.

“I admit I’m not the strongest or physically well built... I’ll probably be a really bad student but-”

With a wave of her hand, Kiri dismisses Illya’s words with a hearty, loud laugh that echoes throughout the garden, warm and bright in the midafternoon sun.

“You’ll be great, I guarantee it. You’re quick on your feet and I think you’re a lot more fit than you give yourself credit for.” If Illya’s ability to function without fault all way in tight corsets and high heels are anything to go by, at least. 

With a bright smile of gratitude, Illya thanks her friend warmly with a bow of her head before standing herself up from the chair, circling around the table and gesturing to the haphazardly abandoned orange heels that laid on their sides next to Kirishimi.

“Let’s continue, Kiri. We still have much to practice for the day!” Illya shrugs her shoulders when Kiri groans, slipping her feet back into her heels before reluctantly standing herself back up. “You remember what I said about the proper way to curtsy is, right?”

To demonstrate, Illya holds the sides of her dress, barely pulling the hem up from the ground and crossing her legs before dipping herself down gracefully like a ballerina... and Kiri could only let out a lazy grumble in protest.

“Can’t we rest for a little while longer? I hate this curtsying shite.”

“The faster we get this part of the lesson done, the faster we can move on to table manners.” Illya’s innocent smile is bright and radiant, belying the little hint of mischief laced under the tone of her knowing voice. “I’ve already asked for the pastries and sweet tea to be prepared, you know? Kaye should be arriving with them any second now.”

“Curtsy? Got it. Left foot behind right???” Mismatched blue and red eyes fly open, and the woman does a full curtsy that elicits yet another light and airy giggle from Illya. 

“It’s the right foot behind your left. Not too quickly, now. Let’s try that again.” 

[jisungscaramel]

seven; changbin

❀ word count: 1k ❀ pairing: changbin x reader (female/self-insert)

[warning] swearing, explicit sexual content, power play, face sitting, make up sex (sort of), dom fem reader, sub changbin

“Wait, wait Chan, what are you-“

He throws you - figuratively and somewhat literally - into a room with Changbin, your soon to be ex boyfriend. You fold your arms. “What kind of sick joke is this, Chan?” you voice crescendos, becoming loud enough so he can hear you on the other side of the door. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything else! You guys really need to talk this out. We’re not gonna let you guys break up over this shit.”

Fuck..

7… seconds but it feels like seven hours of Changbin staring at me with that sour face, creating tension that was so effortless to him but tedious for me. 6…  ticks on the clock and I’m annoyance at the current situation somewhat subdues, seeing as maybe it is for the best that I actually try to approach this like an adult even though I know for a fact he won’t. 5… taps on his thigh, like he’s waiting for something to magically happen. I sigh; of course he expects me to talk first this time because he’s always the one speaking up, blah blah blah. It doesn’t matter if he’s wrong. 4… breaths enter and exit my system. I wish I had the wisdom to navigate this situation better. There’s nothing productive about this stare off. 3… paces is all it takes for him to be face to face with me. I hold my ground looking deep in his soul for a answer, an explanation, some type of solace but I find none. 2… hands on my waist. 1… pair of lips on mine. 0… thoughts in my mind. The contact between you lasts and lingers in what would seem to be a sweet kiss shared by lovers, but it’s anything about that. Held back tension tries its very best to stay as such: held back. But to no avail. 

Changbin’s fingers sink deeper into your frame, tugging your body to his, while kneading his lips against yours as if he’s trying to erase all the pain he’s caused you in the past forty eight hours. As if you didn’t catch him kissing someone else not too long ago. 

No. He’s intent on replacing that memory with something more desirable, but perhaps his methods leave a bit to be desired. He peppers your neck, laying a blueprint for his next artistic endeavor on your sensitive skin, but you have a different agenda. 

“Lay down on the floor,” you command, and when he hesitates, you add, “did I stutter? Lay down on the fucking floor.” 

He gulps, ridding his face of whatever trace of his previous scowl there is. “Yes, ma’am.” He follows your orders, sitting down on the carpet, slowly unfolding until his body is at a full one-eighty.

You peel off the black leggings clinging to your skin, revealing the flimsy piece of ivory lace. “If you think this will miraculously solve our problems…” you wedge your fingers in your underwear, beginning to pull it down at a dangerously slow pace, tantalizing him in ways you could only imagine, “then we’re doing it my way.” 

You pace over him. “You’ve been so fucking bad, you know that?” You gingerly place your toes over the base of his throat, marginally cutting off his breath. 

He whimpers, “I know.” 

You release the pressure, squatting down until your knees hit the ground, until your pulsing core is only centimeters away from his lips. Your fingers press against the carpet fibers above his head for support. Your free hand combs gently through his hair, then you yank it, making him look you in the eye. “You’re gonna be a good boy for me now, right?” 

You slowly roll your hips on his lips. “Yes,” he whispers; his warm breath on your sex sends ripples of anticipation through your nerves.

“‘Yes’ what?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You chuckle almost maniacally, “good boy.” 

With no hesitation, he places an open mouthed kiss on your opening, prompting you to gyrate your hips on his face, your tempo increasing in an effort to keep up with his rhythm. 

He knows how to navigate you with ease, but he still prods his tongue around your every fold as if it was his first time with it. He wants to savor your taste, lapping your sin as if it would be last time with it. 

His arms wrap tightly around your thighs to hold them further apart, and his tongue makes its way to your clit, putting delicious pressure on it from any and every angle. 

A scream escapes your lips at the pleasure pulsing through you, fingers tightening into fists, your head throwing itself back involuntarily. You can’t even bring yourself to warn him when you feel your body tighten in the build up, but he doesn’t need you to. The subtle vibration of your thighs in his taut grip is warning enough. 

“Fuck, Changbin…” 

Your eyes roll back as you come undone, and he grunts, taking it in. All of it in.

1…      2…           3…                4…                     5…                           6…                                7…

When you regain your composure, you slide down his body and press your hands firmly into his shoulders, bending down to taste yourself on his lips. 

You drop your hips to the dome in his pants, making him groan at the sudden friction. 

Hooking a finger into his sweatpants and boxers, you say, “take this off. Now.” 

Immediately, you felt his completely hardened length pressed on your inner thigh. You delicately wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, teasing your folds with the head.

“Please…” he groans. 

You raise an eyebrow. “‘Please’ what?” 

“I need to be inside you so bad, please.” 

“You can if I let you.” 

                                              ><><><><><><><

A/N I need holy water now, god damn… also the gif is not mine.