#people who could look at him beyond his name and money and status and tell him what he needs to hear ... its very yummy ...

[todayisafridaynight]

mine's done a lot of sexy things in my opinion but top five to me still is asking daigo if he wanted to prioritize The Family or one man Not In The Family

[solxamber]

Brighter Than The Sun || Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim shines like the sun, radiant and unwavering—yet each day, he burns a little closer to the edge, waiting for the moment he no longer has to be the light for everyone else.

Kalim Al-Asim is the sun.

Golden and bright, the very picture of abundance. He is the warmth that spills into every crevice, the laughter that brightens any shadowed corner. To anyone who looks upon him, Kalim is all light—glowing, inexhaustible.

He smiles, beaming as though he has never known a reason to frown. He is the friend who helps without question, the noble who offers wealth as casually as he breathes. Everything about him seems limitless, as if there’s a wellspring of joy tucked beneath his ribs.

To the world, he is everything one could want. Money? He has enough that he could give it away a thousand times and never feel the weight of the loss. Status? He holds it effortlessly, carrying the Al-Asim legacy like a crown he was born to wear. Power? He stands at the top of his dorm, a place reserved for the most capable, a place so few could even dream to reach.

Yet when he is alone, under the quiet of his own thoughts, he wonders if this light truly belongs to him.

For he is the sun, yes, but only in appearance. And sometimes, when the crowd's noise fades, and he is left in the quiet of his own mind, he feels more like the moon.

A surface that reflects the light given to it, glowing not because it burns but because it must imitate what it cannot create. He looks at his life, and the brightness seems less a gift and more a performance—a practiced gleam, like polished gold.

His wealth is not his own; it flows from a family name that stretches far beyond his own reach, his life inextricably intertwined with that legacy. He is a prince, a beloved heir, but also just a vessel for what the Al-Asim family has always been.

His title as housewarden—an honor, a symbol of his supposed strength—feels hollow, as if it is an illusion created by the weight of his family’s donation, a stage set up for him to walk across without effort.

He knows his own weaknesses too well. The duties of his position are carried not by his hands, but by Jamil’s steady, unseen grasp, the support he feels but cannot acknowledge aloud. He walks through his life like a dream, all things handed to him so effortlessly that he can barely tell where his accomplishments end and Jamil’s sacrifices begin.

He smiles for the people who look to him with bright eyes, never revealing the doubt that tugs at his heart. Because if he reveals even a hint of insecurity, what might they see?

To the world, he is a radiant, boundless sun. But to himself, he is a vessel, filled with the reflected light of others.

He should not complain. How could he, when he has everything anyone could want? It is a life of luxury, endless opportunity, and privilege. To speak of weariness, of doubt, of feeling like a stranger in his own skin—that would be a betrayal of all the riches he has been given.

So he keeps his smile intact, lets it grow even brighter to cover the places where he feels hollow. He becomes the perfect image of the Al-Asim heir—unfailing, generous, golden.

But with each person who takes a part of him, each smile he offers in place of the words he cannot say, he feels himself dim. It is a slow fading, like a candle burning down to its last flicker.

They come to him for his wealth, for his status, for the power that drapes him like a robe. They praise him, flatter him, but he wonders if any of it would remain if he was just Kalim.

So he smiles, and he smiles, because that is what the sun must do.

He smiles because that is what the Al-Asim heir has always done. And if he must dim a little, if he must give until there is nothing left, then so be it. Because he is the sun. Or at least, that is what the world needs him to be.

The announcement for the competition rings through the hallways like a spark, and within moments, it feels like Kalim is being surrounded. A food sale—a lighthearted, fun event meant to bring everyone together.

But the minute it’s announced, people begin to approach him, voices eager, faces alight with plans that all seem to look the same: “You can bring in the best chefs, right?” “With your budget, we’ll be unstoppable!” “If we work with you, victory’s in the bag!”

They don’t want to team up with him because it’ll be fun. They want to team up because he’s a shortcut to winning. The money, the prestige, the pull he doesn’t even remember asking for—those are the things they’re looking at, not him.

It’s as if he’s transparent, just a vessel for everything he can provide, and suddenly the bright prospect of a competition meant for laughter and shared stories feels like a thin disguise for something much more hollow.

He puts on his best grin, the one that usually gets him through anything, and thinks of Jamil. But he knows before he even starts the trek that Jamil won’t accept his help—not really.

He would take one step into Jamil’s space, and the same pattern would unfold: Jamil’s skill, his knowledge and sharp-eyed focus, would all have to fold back and take second place for Kalim. And Kalim’s heart would break a little more, watching Jamil slip back into that practiced shadow.

So he chooses someone at random. He watches his friend fade into the distance, unapproachable in the quiet corner he’d always known to seek, and feels himself both moving closer and losing him. Because if Jamil joins with someone else, maybe this time, he’ll finally get the recognition he’s always deserved.

Then, suddenly, there’s a voice—a calm, grounded voice, an anchor that cuts through the whirlwind around him. “Do you want to team up?”

Kalim blinks, looking up. It’s you, the one person he might have expected least, but it makes sense the more he thinks about it. You’re the prefect, the magicless wonder who bent over backwards time and again for people you barely knew.

He’s seen you take on challenges most people would run from; he’s seen you forge your own way in a world that wasn’t made to be kind. You’re… well, you’re what he imagines the sun to be—shining for everyone, regardless of how dark things might seem.

The memory slips back into his mind, hazy at first, like a half-forgotten dream—but then it sharpens, each detail painfully vivid. After Jamil's overblot, Kalim remembers standing on the edge of chaos, his mind spinning, his heart bruised. The realization of Jamil’s resentment had wrapped around his throat, each word, each look, echoing. And yet, he had smiled, grinned even, as he always did—because he had to.

It was then that you appeared beside him, quiet but determined, your gaze steady and warm as you asked, “Are you okay, Kalim?”

He’d almost laughed it off. "I’m fine! You should check on Jamil instead.” Jamil was the one who had suffered, after all, who had been weighed down by his own heavy feelings, dark enough to blot out everything else. But you shook your head, gently dismissing his words. “Jamil’s in good hands. Right now, I’m here to check on you.”

Your voice cut through the polished, automatic responses that came so easily to him, cracking them open to reveal the raw vulnerability underneath. He stood there, lost, the smile frozen on his face, as your words sank in. You weren’t here because he was the housewarden or the Al-Asim heir—you were here for him.

Before he could respond, you were called by Ace and Deuce, voices edged with worry and urgency. With a quick but genuine smile, you pressed your number into his hand, like a promise. “If you need anything, just call me, okay?”

Then, before he could gather a single thought, you pulled him into a swift hug. It was brief, barely more than a whisper of warmth, but it was real. And as you turned and rushed back to the others, Kalim was left standing alone, clutching the scrap of paper like a lifeline.

It was the first time he felt truly seen.

And now here you are, looking right at him with that unmistakable twinkle in your eye, and asking him if he wants to team up with you.

For a moment, his heart jumps, then settles. How could he say no?

When you both sit down, Kalim immediately jumps into the plan he assumes you want to hear—how he’ll bring in a chef, or two, maybe even three to make sure everything’s just right.

But the second he starts, you shut him down with a gentle shake of your head, laughing softly. “This isn’t about winning. This is about having fun with friends, remember? I didn’t ask to team up so you’d hire people. I wanted to cook with you.”

Kalim’s heart skips. You’re here… just for him?

It’s a strange feeling, this warmth that wells up from deep within. His grin starts small, uncertain, then blooms into something true and wide, unfiltered and bright.

The kitchen becomes a small world for just the two of you, a place of flour clouds and flung sugar, and with each mistake, with each burnt attempt at a dish, you both dissolve into helpless laughter.

What starts as a noble, if catastrophic, attempt to cook quickly devolves into pure chaos, until there’s more flour on your faces than in the mixing bowl and neither of you can remember what you were even trying to make.

For once, he doesn’t feel the need to give, or to prove. Here with you, he’s simply Kalim—the boy with flour smudged across his cheek and laughter that keeps bubbling up before he can stop it.

When the competition ends, you both stand proudly beside a dish that looks nothing short of monstrous. The judges hesitate, then take a tentative bite and promptly grimace. Kalim hears you giggling beside him, your shoulders shaking as you take in the judge’s expression, and he can’t help but join you. It’s a sound that fills the space between you, something unpracticed and utterly genuine.

For a moment, he looks at you, your face still bright with laughter, your eyes shining like starlight, and a thought settles into him, quiet but strong.

Maybe… maybe he’d be happy being your moon.

Because you’re the sun in all the ways that he could never be. You light the way without needing anything from him. And for once, he feels no need to push it down and smile, because it feels natural.

It happens often enough that Kalim doesn’t flinch anymore. He’s used to it, really. Requests come at him like a tidal wave, sweeping through with unrelenting regularity. It’s as if everyone expects him to be their endless source, their personal sun—warm, bright, unyielding in generosity, always giving without pause. A smile that never fades, a light that never dims.

Today, it’s a classmate from another dorm, sidling up with that gleam in their eye, that small, calculated smile. “Kalim,” they say, smooth and honeyed, “I could use a little help.” And it’s money they want; of course it’s money. They don’t ask how he’s doing, or if he might need something in return. The sun does not need favors; it simply shines.

Without hesitation, Kalim’s lips curve into that familiar, reflexive smile. “Of course! How much do you—”

But before he can finish, there’s a shift—a hand on his arm, warm and grounding, and then there’s you, stepping in. You stand firm, gaze unwavering as you look at the person with something fierce, a protective spark in your eyes he’s not accustomed to seeing directed at him.

“No,” you say, voice strong, clear. “He won’t be giving you any money today.”

Kalim stares, momentarily stunned, as the person falters, their confidence waning under your unyielding gaze. They stammer, offering excuses, their polished smile slipping away, and Kalim realizes, slowly, that you’ve dismissed them entirely. Just like that, they slink off, and it feels as though you’ve thrown up a wall between him and the world, shielding him from the hands that are always outstretched, from the shadows eager to siphon his light.

For a heartbeat, Kalim almost laughs it off. It’s what he always does, isn’t it? His warmth is endless; he’s the sun, and if they want to take a little here and there, that’s fine. But as he opens his mouth to brush it away, your gaze catches his—a fierceness still burning there, softer now but just as fierce.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice faltering, a practiced line that feels hollow now. “I don’t mind. I have enough.”

But you’re shaking your head, brows furrowed. “It’s not about having enough, Kalim. It’s about people thinking they can take advantage of you, people who see your kindness and assume it’s endless. I’m not going to let that happen—not while I’m here.”

Your words are firm, soft but unbreakable, and they slip past his practiced defenses, breaking through the polished brightness he’s wrapped around himself for so long. He’s heard people defend him before—duty, necessity, loyalty.

But this… this is different. You’re not protecting him out of obligation or his family name; you’re protecting him because you see him—the cracks beneath the shine, the exhaustion hidden behind the smile he’s worn for so long.

It’s strange, this feeling. It’s warmth, but not the warmth he gives. It’s something softer, gentler, a warmth that reaches out to cradle rather than to demand. And Kalim realizes that you aren’t here to take; you’re here to give.

It feels as if something’s settling in his chest, filling spaces he’s ignored. A sun isn’t supposed to dim, isn’t supposed to falter, but right now, he feels the smallest, most fragile sense of relief, of finally allowing himself to be seen.

For a moment, he stands there, vulnerable in a way he rarely allows himself to be, letting the feeling settle into the empty corners of his heart.

He’s always been the one giving, radiating, shining for others, but right now, with you, he feels… cared for. Cherished, even. And for the first time, he wonders if it’s possible to let himself be dim, even for just a moment, to let himself be a little less bright.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, shaky. “Thank you,” he says, and the words feel like a fragile confession, a quiet plea that maybe he doesn’t have to be everyone’s light alone.

And you smile at him, not as someone who needs, but as someone who gives, and Kalim realizes maybe he doesn’t have to carry on being the sun on his own.

The room feels too large, the air too thick. The housewardens’ meeting has reached a stalemate, and all eyes are on him—the sun who can’t afford to waver, the one they all seem to look to now, expectant.

It’s suffocating, the way their gazes settle, heavy as if they could burn through his skin. He knows they’re waiting for a decision, the final word to tip the scales. But Kalim doesn’t know what to say.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, the words tangling in his throat. The others are smart, strategic, relentless in their arguments, and he… he just wants to make the choice that won’t ruin everything.

The room is a whirl of voices and opinions, and he feels small under the weight of it. He doesn’t know what the right answer is, but Jamil would. Jamil always knows.

So he tries to voice it, a faint smile surfacing like a reflex. “Maybe I could just… ask Jamil,” he says, a bit too quickly, fingers reaching for his phone. “He’s smarter than me, you know? He’ll know what to do.”

But before he can call, a hand finds his, warm and grounding, and it’s you, giving him a look that’s gentle yet firm, one that stops him in his tracks. “Kalim,” you say, softly but with a certainty that doesn’t let him look away, “what do you think?”

The words settle into the room, silencing the murmur of voices, and suddenly, it’s just you and him, and that question hanging between you. It’s simple, yet it strikes at something deep, something unsteady inside him. No one has asked him like that before—not with such unwavering faith, not like they actually want his opinion.

He stumbles over his thoughts, searching for an answer in the corners of his mind. A nervous chuckle bubbles up as he tries to brush it off. “Ah, I mean, I don’t know if I… I mean, Jamil’s really good at this stuff, he always knows the right—”

But you don’t let him retreat. Your gaze is steady, unwavering. “You’re the housewarden, Kalim,” you remind him. “This decision is yours. And beyond that, I trust your judgment. Whatever choice you make, I believe in it. I believe in you.”

And just like that, something cracks open in him, a warmth he’s not used to directed at him, not in this way. He’s the sun, but the world has always taken that light from him, never cared for the doubts and cracks beneath it.

He’s always been everyone’s brightness, a mirror reflecting what they needed to see, but no one has ever looked past the shine to find what lies underneath—until now.

There’s a rawness to it, a gentleness that makes his heart stutter. To think that you… you believe in him, without question, without needing him to hide behind Jamil or his family’s influence.

It’s as if, for the first time, he’s seen for more than just his blinding, relentless cheer. And he realizes he doesn’t have to dim himself here; he doesn’t have to be anyone but himself.

His heart swells, and he finds himself grinning, wide and genuine, a real smile that breaks free from the polished restraint he’s so often worn. He makes his choice then, and he’s almost surprised by the ease of it, the clarity in his own voice as he casts his vote.

The meeting wraps up, and as the others disperse, he turns to you, his eyes bright with a newfound light. “You really mean it, don’t you?” he asks, almost breathless with disbelief. “You really think I can… handle this?”

You nod, and the quiet sincerity in your gaze tells him everything he’s ever wanted to hear.

He’s buzzing with excitement now, a warmth in his chest that radiates outward, too bright to contain. “We should celebrate!” he exclaims, a bit too loud, the joy spilling over, “Oh! We could throw a party! I’ll get the best decorations—oh, maybe fireworks! Or music, live music, yeah!”

He goes on, the plans growing more extravagant with every breath, each word a piece of his true self spilling over, no longer held back. But then you reach out, grounding him again, slipping your hand into his. It’s a small gesture, but it holds the weight of something steady, something real.

He looks down, meeting your gaze, and he feels himself settle, his grin softening as he squeezes your hand in return. It’s a connection that doesn’t need words, a promise that he doesn’t have to be the sun alone, that he doesn’t have to bear its weight for everyone else. With you here, he feels whole, bright in a way that isn’t lonely or draining.

And for the first time, Kalim lets himself bask in his own light, just as he is.

The night presses down, dense and endless, smothering like velvet too heavy to breathe through. Kalim’s room is dark, his bed sprawling, sheets cool and smooth and empty.

He lies there, eyes wide open, and the silence around him is too thick, his mind too loud. Thoughts spiral, each more bitter than the last. The emptiness gnaws at him, whispers that scratch at his heart, telling him that he’s alone—that he’ll always be alone.

They all come to him because he’s the Al-Asim heir, the boy with endless coin and golden connections. No one really wants to know you, his thoughts hiss, cruel in the stillness. They just want what you can give. Even his friends, the laughter and cheers that surround him during the day, feel hollow when night falls and he’s alone with himself.

And then there’s you… you, who’ve looked at him like he’s more than just a title, more than just a shimmering surface. But his heart trembles, fear threading through his veins. What if, someday, even you see past his brightness and turn away? What if you realize he’s not what you want, not who you deserve?

The thought digs deep, enough to make his chest tighten. And before he knows it, his fingers are reaching for his phone, trembling as he finds your contact, the screen casting a soft glow in the darkness. His finger hovers over the call button, his mind screaming not to, to let you sleep, but his heart—panicked, needy—wins out.

He taps the screen, the line ringing just once, then twice. But dread fills him, heavy and sudden, and before you can pick up, he hangs up, tossing the phone aside like it’s burned him.

The room is darker now, the silence sharper, and his heart beats loud, a hollow echo. What was I thinking? He tries to laugh it off, as though his thoughts aren’t tightening around him. But then his phone vibrates, the screen flashing with your name.

He swallows, unable to answer, shame and fear tangled up, so he lets it go to voicemail. Then the screen lights up again, and again, until finally, after his third silence, the calls stop.

The quiet returns, heavier than before, and he’s about to close his eyes, to pretend he never did anything so foolish, when there’s a knock. It’s soft at first, hesitant, then insistent, each knock pounding through the empty space in his chest.

He doesn’t dare breathe as he drags himself out of bed, opening the door only to find you there, looking up at him with wild, frantic eyes, like you’ve just run miles to reach him.

“Kalim,” you gasp, barely catching your breath, and he’s so stunned he almost doesn’t notice the tear tracks glistening on your cheeks. You reach for him, hands shaking, and in an instant, your arms are around him, pulling him close, clinging to him like he might disappear if you let go. “You scared me! You really… I thought—” Your voice breaks, thick with worry, and your grip tightens, trembling as though you’re afraid he’ll slip from your hold.

He’s frozen, the weight of your embrace pressing into him, disbelief rippling through him. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammers, trying to laugh it off, to brush away the panic in his chest. “It was… it was just an accident! I didn’t mean to wake you—”

But you pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, your gaze sharp with the weight of a thousand unspoken worries. “Don’t you dare do that to me again,” you say, your voice firm, fierce in a way he’s never heard before. “If you need me, call me. Really call me. Don’t just… don’t leave me hanging, don’t make me wonder. I was terrified, Kalim.”

And before he can even answer, you wrap your arms around him again, burying your face in his shoulder as you hold him close. It’s grounding, the warmth of you pressed against him, anchoring him in a way that silences the dark thoughts spiraling through his mind.

He can feel your heart racing, hear the quiet sniffles as you clutch him tighter, and it’s like all the loneliness, all the fear, all the doubts fade into the background. Because you’re here, and you came all this way just for him.

“Come on,” you say after a long moment, pulling away just enough to flash him a faint, determined smile. “Scooch over. We’re having a sleepover. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He blinks, watching in wonder as you make your way to his bed, throwing back the covers and settling in as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He can only stand there for a moment, stunned, before he finds himself crawling into bed beside you.

He’s never had someone sit with him like this, just to be there, and a strange warmth fills his chest, unlike anything he’s felt before.

You don’t ask him why he called or why he hung up, and he doesn’t need to explain. You’re here, stretching out beside him, your presence a steady warmth that keeps the shadows at bay.

When you reach over to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, it’s like a promise, an unspoken vow that no matter how dark the night feels, you’ll be here to pull him back into the light.

And as he lies there, hand in yours, he realizes he doesn’t need to fear losing you. For the first time, he feels truly seen, like you understand every part of him—the bright, blinding sun he tries to be, and the quieter, flickering light beneath. He squeezes your hand back, his heart lighter, his smile real.

Kalim has known for a while now, though he tried to convince himself otherwise. But no amount of blinding sunlight, no amount of laughter can hide the truth beating loud and insistent in his chest. He’s fallen for you, deeply, hopelessly, and it’s nothing like he’d imagined.

Not grand or regal or even serene. No, it’s messy, overflowing, spilling out like the cups of tea he clumsily pours, like the stories he rambles through whenever you’re nearby. You make him feel like he doesn’t need to wear that bright, polished sun mask that everyone expects from him.

But how can he possibly tell you? In his mind, the moment plays out with magic carpets soaring through the stars, firelight flickering against golden sands, his heart laid bare in the most dazzling of confessions.

Yet here he is, standing with you in the middle of a bustling market, your hand gripping his as you pull him from stall to stall, eyes bright with excitement as you chatter on about matching trinkets, laughter bubbling up as you try on silly hats and drape fabrics over each other’s shoulders.

He’s surrounded by the scents of spices, the hum of people, the rough cobblestones beneath his feet—and suddenly, the words slip out, too big to be contained. “I love you.”

It’s out before he can stop himself, hanging there in the air between you, fragile and exposed. There are no magic carpets, no glittering jewels or ancient spells—just the clamor of the marketplace and your stunned expression.

For a split second, he panics, his heart dropping as he watches you go still, your laughter fading into silence. What did I just do? he wonders, dread pooling in his stomach.

Before he can backtrack, you grab his hand and tug him away, weaving through the bustling crowd with a determined pace. He follows without a word, his heart thudding painfully, a thousand worries flashing through his mind. Are you mad? Are you disappointed? The walk back feels endless, every step dragging out his dread as he watches your profile, desperately wishing he could read your mind.

When you reach your room, you shut the door and turn to face him, eyes steady and piercing. “Say that again,” you demand, soft but firm, voice almost a whisper.

He swallows, nerves tangling in his throat, but he can’t hide now, not when you’re looking at him like that. “I love you,” he says, voice trembling but true. And before he can get another word out, your hands are cupping his face, and you’re pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s fierce and sweet, leaving him breathless.

When you pull back, he stares at you, wide-eyed, his mind still reeling. “But—” he stammers, “It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t…” He trails off, words slipping through his fingers, his heart heavy with the thought that he’s somehow let you down.

You silence him with another kiss, your hands gentle on his cheeks. When you pull away, you hold him there, your gaze warm and unyielding. “I don’t need grand, Kalim. I don’t want fireworks, or magic carpets, or anything the Al-Asim heir thinks he’s supposed to offer. I love you. Not housewarden Kalim, not the heir… Just Kalim. The one who follows me through crowded markets, the one who hums while he braids my hair, the one who laughs so brightly it could heal the world.”

Your fingers trace along his jaw, and the sincerity in your eyes takes his breath away. “You don’t need to be the sun for me. You don’t need to burn yourself out for people who don’t care. You’re enough as you are. You’re my Kalim, and I’m yours.”

And as you smile at him, soft and true, he feels his heart swell, the insecurities falling away. Your words wrap around him, gentle as a cloak, quieting every fear and doubt he’s held onto. It’s more than he ever thought he could have, more than he ever thought he’d deserve.

The smile that blooms on his face, radiant and unrestrained, is real.

Because in this moment, with you by his side, he shines brighter than the sun.

Masterlist

[pawnshopbleus]

hi! i was wondering if you could do a corio x plinth reader where he aproches her bc she is a plinth (and she notices and gets mad bc she think that corio takes her for a stupid girl who would just fall for his lies) but he slowly falls for her. i would really like if it ends well, like them together. i hope you understood my idea, i love your work btw.

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

coriolanus snow x fem!plinth!reader

summary - basically what the request says, but there is no happy ending because i'm evil.

contains - angst, the capital being described as beautiful, gold-digging, rude coriolanus, not beta read

author's note - i'm so sorry @simpovereveryone for the unhappy ending, but i feel like once someone finds out you originally wanted to date them for their money there is no coming back. originally, this was going to be a happy ending, but I just couldn't write one that felt natural and real. if you want, I can do a happy Coriolanus later, but there is no happy ending in this one.

IT was no secret that Strabo Plinth’s daughter was in love. It was the only thing people would talk about at the Academy. In between each Hunger Games, Capitol citizens were bored. Gossip would spread like a wildfire. They didn’t know how to keep a secret. 

Coriolanus knew that you liked him. It was obvious to anyone that had two working eyes. The way that your eyes would follow him wherever he went, and how your back would straighten every time he walked by was evidence enough that you had a crush on the blonde boy. 

Coriolanus was flattered, really, but he just wasn’t one to date. Many girls have tried and failed at dating him. None piqued his interest. He found that most pretty Capiol girls were dumb and had no interest beyond their physical appearance. They also lacked what he needed most, money. 

Coriolanus wanted to continue his education at the University after the Academy. He needed to keep a roof over his, Tigris, and Grandma’ams head, or he would have failed as a cousin and a grandson. Those necessities don’t come cheap after a war, no matter how long ago the war was. 

And then he heard the news. Some new students were chatting during lunch. His name and yours got thrown around, and after some intense staring at his apple, he heard what they were talking about. Your little schoolgirl crush on Coriolanus, and that was confirmation enough. 

Then there you were, sitting in all your glory. 

Being the one and only daughter in the Plinth family made you susceptible to fake people. Always after your money and status, but they will talk about you behind your back. Coriolanus has heard it all. He needed to outsmart the many and study the few that made it to your inner circle. Just because you already had a crush on him meant nothing if he didn’t have a good enough reason to chase after you. 

Your red school uniform mixed in with the rest of the crowd, but your face was what drew him in. It was so different, unconventional, and beautiful. The unconventionality of your face made him want to paint a picture of you from memory. You were unique, which he liked. This won’t be too bad, Coriolanus said in his head. 

Your tired eyes met his and he didn’t look away. The bags under your eyes accentuated the fact that you couldn’t sleep last night. The thunder crashing outside of your window was probable cause to keep you awake. 

Coriolanus got up from his chair and stocked towards you. His stride was purposeful, guiding through clumps of students gathered around the room. He sat across from you and said nothing as he studied your tired expression. It was weird that your brother's friend and your crush were sitting across from you all of a sudden. You were in no way ready to talk to him right now. 

“Did you want me to tell Sejanus something?” was all you could manage to ask. Your brain was begging you to ask more. Why are you here? How is your family? Do you think I’m crazy for liking you, even though we’ve never had an actual conversation? But your mouth stayed shut, which saved you from a boatload of embarrassment. 

Coriolanus smiled. His teeth were imperfectly imperfect. A natural color, not too white, but not too yellow. His right front tooth was slightly crooked, giving his teeth personality. 

“No, I came here to talk to you.”

Your brows furrowed for a second. Why in the world would he want to talk to me? Besides being the sister of his friend, you had nothing going on for yourself. There were far prettier girls that he could talk to. You weren’t all that traversed in philosophy and classic books like he was. You were just…you. 

Your lips pressed together in a small line and then returned to normal after a second. You couldn’t form coherent words right now. You nodded your head at the boy in front of you and looked across the room, not ready to make eye contact with him at the present moment. Students talked and whispered with each other as they took in the scene. Coriolanus Snow talking to the girl that had a crush on him. Many girls who had tried to date him in the past narrowed their eyes at you. 

You had not noticed that the room was almost silent, save for the whispers of the nosey students. Coriolanus kept repeating your name, trying to break you out of your trance. You liked the way your name rolled off his tongue. An unlimited amount of syllables were repeated over and over again in his baritenor voice. 

“What?” you ask as you are broken out of your trance. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” he answered your question with another. 

This seemed too good to be true. The boy you’ve had a crush on for years had just asked you out for seemingly no reason. Either whatever higher power in the sky was on your side, or this was one huge prank. Either way, you agreed. 

˖ ࣪ . 🦢 ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

You stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of your room. The baby pink silk slip dress you were wearing used to belong to your mother. She had given it to you two years ago in hopes that you would wear it. She hoped that you would wear it on a date with a nice boy. That’s exactly what you were doing, but there were two problems. The first problem was that you were nothing like your brother, outgoing and outspoken. You preferred to keep to yourself, and if you had to socialize, you would do it with the handful of friends you had. The second problem was that it was two years later. The dress no longer draped beautifully around you like it did when you were younger. It clung to every curve, crevice, and roll you had on your body. You were lucky that the dress still zipped up. You studied yourself in the mirror, going from the tip top of your head down to your painted toenails. At least it looked like you had enough money to be well-fed and groomed. 

Coriolanus was taking you to a new rooftop restaurant. The women in your mother's book club raved on and on about how elegant and regal the vibes in that restaurant felt. They also recounted how hard it is to get a reservation. For a new restaurant, it seemed pretty picky with its patrons. 

He picked you up around six. The sun had already set and a chill breeze kissed your skin, causing goosebumps to rise on the bare skin of your arms. Coriolanus kept you close to him, placing a strong hand on the small of your back. His hand was cold, causing you to shiver. 

The reviews were right. The restaurant was beautiful. The entire place was lit using nothing but candles. They lined the tables with pristine white cloth. There were other details of the restaurant that were otherworldly, but the view of the Capital made you swoon. With Coriolanus long forgotten, your eyes lit up at all the lights and such that outlined every building and street. You had forgotten how beautiful the Capital was at night. Your heart panged with gratefulness at being able to experience this even though you weren’t born here. 

Coriolanus studied you once again. The city lights flashed and shone across your body, accentuating the way your skin looked. It looked soft, almost perfect. Nothing was ever perfect. 

“So, Sejanus told me you like to paint,” Coriolanus commented, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

Your eyes broke away from the shining lights and back to the companion in front of you. “Yes,” you simply said. 

The simplicity of your words made Coriolanus fix his hand into a fist under the table. He was doing you a favor! You were the one who had a crush on him, not the other way around. He couldn’t say anything, though. He had to remind himself why he was doing this. Flashes of images passed through his mind. They all had one thing in common; they were dear to him - the only things he loved. That was the reason why he was here. He needed the money that was attached to you. 

“What do you like to paint?” The food that he ordered for the two of you was being placed down on the table. He ordered steak and potatoes with a side of steamed vegetables.

You are a vegetarian. 

Everyone knew you were vegetarian. You loved animals and couldn’t fathom eating a living animal. You didn’t judge people who ate meat. Everyone was free to live the lifestyle they wanted and you choose to live a meatless lifestyle.

“Why did you ask me out on a date?” you questioned the boy in front of you who was currently eating his food like a starved man. Which he was. He barely had enough money to pay rent, let alone pay for this meal…

That’s why he asked you on a date - for your money. You’ve lived your entire life having to question whether or not someone wanted to be your friend. Your last name followed you everywhere you went. There was nothing shameful about your family, but you hated having fake people around you. It was literal hell. 

Of course, Coriolanus didn’t like you. He just needed your money. You scoffed at him and didn’t even let him finish as you sprinted out of the restaurant, leaving him confused and with no way to pay. 

It’s safe to say that Coriolanus is never welcomed back. 

[safetycar-restart]

Could I claim 🍀?

Ooh hybrids in the porn Au. We've talked about bunny Charles.. but what about cat!Max.

At the start, I see him only do shoots that he can hide his tail in or lay down so the camera doesn't catch his ears.

Eventually, you catch on because ofc when 'cat hybrid sucks dick' drops, and people question whether he's an actual cat hybrid or not. You know smth is up.

So you need to chat with him. he gets called into the big boss office. And poor max is stressing. Thinking you are ashamed of him for showing his tail in a video by accident even though he tried his hardest to hide it.

But no, it's the opposite, you praise him for it. Knowing you cant be blunt about it, everytime from then on when a tail or a ear. Or he purrs in a video. Whenever he shows any sign of him being a hybrid in a shoot you praise him when you see him in the halls or when you stay and watch.

You slowly encourage him to be more proud about his hybrid-ness...

Oooo yes I love this!! I love how we're including other AUs in the porn au, it's all so good.

So firstly, I think max would join the porn studio because he really needed money. In fact he'd go to the audition only because he was almost certain he wouldn't be hired. Especially because he says very clearly that he doesn't want his tail and ears in the video, that he wants to pretend to not be a cat hybrid. To his surprise, you not only hire him but also agree to all his terms with no issue.

To you, max is a great hire. He's got a different body type to your other boys. His eyes and lips are just fucking sinful. You know he'd be amazing.

And you're right, he's great, albeit a little shy. You definitely have to pair him up with some others who can really encourage him and get him out of his shell (especially Lando and Mick, they both manage to get Max to open up so well).

That's how it goes for a while, max films and does well and you make sure to let him know that. But, as he required, his cat hybrid status was always kept hidden in the videos.

It's a pity, because cat hybrids are a genre of porn on their own, and even though you already have two cat hybrids, you'd love to have four and be able to make cat hybrid orgy videos. But of course you'd never push max beyond his boundaries, so you keep your desires to have four cat hybrids in videos secret.

You always check every video before it gets posted. The videos are filmed and then the editors edit them and name them and send them to you. You check them and make sure they're up to your standards and then post them.

It's when you're checking videos that you discover the editors have named a video 'cat hybrid sucks dick' and it's one of max's videos. You skim through it and see that max's tail is in view in several scenes.

You like the video, but you're unsure what max will think so you call him into your office. Poor max is practically shaking when he enters your office, so convinced that he's messed something up.

You tell him to sit on the couch with you and put your laptop on the coffee table, showing him the video. Max immediately begins apologising, because all he's ever been told is that his cat hybrid status is shameful and must be hidden. So he thinks that you'd be upset with him for failing to hide it.

But instead, you tell him that you really like the video and you'd love to post it with his permission. Max is so shocked, and he just keeps on repeating that his tail is visible.

It's not until you force him to face you and tell him that you love his tail and he looks so hot in the video, that he realises he hasn't done anything wrong and agrees for the video to be posted.

It's his most popular video to date.

From there, you make sure to praise him every single time he shows off his hybrid status. Even if it's just his ears peaking into frame. You try to be there for most of his shoots, so that you can praise him in person and encourage him to do shots that show off his tail or ears.

Maybe you also tell the others about this so that they can also praise max and help him get more comfortable? Which leads to a video where Carlos is facefucking max and he says "That's a good fucking kitty" to Max which just.... max fucking purrs around his cock.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

So I saw a few posts ago someone asking how come some people really believe they can date Evan on twitter and start causing drama in his name. I may have an explanation; the Law of Attraction and all the gurus on social media sensationalizing it.

To gain traction on their accounts, they oversimplify it by presenting it as this abra kadabra tool where you have everything you want in a blink of an eye. It's.... not how it works. I will not get into the all the details of how it does work, cause that's not the point here, but the main point that these gurus purposely avoid to make (because its not profitable for them to say that) is that

1) your desires are basically telling you what you're missing in life and

2) most often, what you're missing is not the person-house-car you're trying to manifest, but the feeling those things will give you.

You don't want a house; you want stability and safety, and social status.

You don't want a car; you want freedom of movement and social status.

If someone is manifesting Evan, they are most probably manifesting the validation of being loved by someone like Evan; a funny, cute, talented, and genuinely good man, who blushes when girls talk to him. It's not Evan they want, it's the feeling of validation they are looking for. I mean, if you are loved by someone like Evan, then this makes you good enough, right? Right? This is the validation they need.

These gurus pray on people's lack of self-validation, and fill their heads with magical thinking that they can get the OBJECT of their desires, rather than the feeling of those desires. And those feelings come from ~within~, not from the outside.

As a result, you have all these deeply insecure girlies who project the hate they have for themselves on other girlies who do the same thing, hoping to get the attention of Evan Peters, in the hopes it will save them from their misery. All because some white girl with dreads said so on TikTok.

This is a long ass ask, I smoked a j. Got carried away lmao.

😂😂 but i totally get what you mean. and sadly this extends far beyond the spiritual gurus of the world; since forever, gullible people have been shelling out money to scam artists who claim they can make every pipe dream come true. in this case, you have someone who is essentially validating that your unrealistic desires can all come true just by virtue of wanting it enough and fixating on.. idk, whatever you “think” you need to do in order to attain it. even if it’s something that simply can’t and won’t happen.

the reality is, for all of the feelings these women may have that evan is their ideal soulmate and that they would be perfect together if only they could meet.. if they actually managed to do so, the shine would be lost. it’s easy to idealize someone you don’t know intimately, whose flaws you aren’t confronted with every day. you can just focus on the lovable aspects and fantasize without the actual baggage of being in a relationship with another human. because evan is just human like all of us. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[space-ferret]

As mentioned before, I want to get better at writing down lore and stuff, starting with some character bios. I didn't know how specific I wanted to be and this was supposed to be a summary, but my little fingers just started going and I think I wrote a short story. lol I will preface this by saying that I am inherently not a writer.

Anyway, here's a lore dump for Xanda before current time! This is from her perspective. I'll get to writing Shilven's side soon.

HERE WE GO

Current age: 25-26

Birth Year: 3492

Birthplace: South Realm

Sex: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Eyes: Lilac (natural)/Red (unnatural)

Hair: Blonde

Height: 5’6” (167.64 cm)

Xanda was born to Kamril and Chasteen in Garvol, located in The Kingdom of Remelv in South Realm, a city heavily divided by class. Xanda was an only child born to privilege in the upper class, something her parents took great pride in. They taught her not to associate with people from the lower class and raised her to be proper lady of high status. 

From a young age, she loved books and used them as an escape from her otherwise boring life. Xanda was always curious and didn’t take as much pride in her status as her parents and didn’t like her parents’ prejudice toward those of lower status. She discovered as a child that she could use lightning magic. She told her father (who she inherited it from), but was told to never use it or mention to anyone that she has the ability to use magic, due to the stigma. She didn’t think she needed it for her lifestyle, so she never used it. 

Her parents pressured her to marry from before she became of age, but Xanda didn’t want to marry right away and wanted an education. She made excuses or turned down every potential suitor her parents tried to set her up with. She finally got her parents to agree that she can get a proper education before she married. However, this didn’t stop them from continuing to send suitors at her. There were plenty; she was a pretty young woman of status after all. She didn’t want to simply be a wife and mother and have no meaning beyond being a lady of class. She didn’t want to turn out like her mother who only cared about her status and thought of everyone else as lower than her. She also didn’t want to marry someone just for their status and be stuck in a loveless marriage, also like her mother.

One day, when she was 19 and walking in lower town with her two friends, Xanda was approached by an unknown man. She had seen him looking at her while he was working construction on a building, but didn’t think anything of it. It happens often. But he suddenly asked her out on a date. She quickly declined. Now, Xanda doesn’t think of common people in the same way as her parents, but some random man in dirty clothes from manual labor coming up to her so boldly is a definite no. Social status didn’t matter. She wasn’t used to men directly asking her; it was always through her parents. He seemed so enamored with her though. She obviously comes from money, so it must just be an act. It was still a definite no for her. He told her his name was Shilven and he’d see her next time and walked away seeming to understand it was a no this time. What did he mean by “next time?”

Sure enough, the next time she was in the area, he came up to her and asked her out again. Still a no.

This wasn’t the last time. It kind of became a game between them. He’d pop up, she’d decline, he’d leave and say see you again next time. Was he really going to keep this up?

This time was different. She didn’t see him working. This time, it was Xanda who happened upon him at a grocer. He turned around to see her walking in his direction. An unplanned meeting this time. It was different to see him clean and in normal clothing. It was the same routine though. He asked her on a date. She declined. This time, he finally asked why. Xanda wasn’t sure what to say. He said he isn’t from Garvol, but knows how important social class is. She couldn’t exactly tell him that was the reason. He seemed to get it though. He seemed like a nice enough person. He wasn’t pushy, just persistent. He didn’t try to woo her with gifts or anything like the men her parents tried to pick out for her. To say she was intrigued wouldn’t be a lie, but she didn’t want to be in a relationship. Shilven offered a deal. He would stop asking her out if she agreed to go on one date with him. But if she had a good time, they could have another. She asked him if he would really leave her alone. He said he would and he knows when he has no shot, but she would have a good time. Xanda reluctantly agreed. 

They agreed to have dinner at a fairly nice place. Xanda had to make an excuse to her parents that she was meeting with friends. They would react horribly if they knew what she was actually doing. She got to the restaurant and Shilven was already there waiting for her. He dressed up this time. Nothing too fancy or anything, but he looked nice. He gave her some flowers. Is this where he was going to start showering her with gifts? Xanda hated that. No, it was just flowers. 

Xanda hated to assume anything about his background, but it was so ingrained in her by her parents. She was surprised that he knew proper etiquette. He seemed quite knowledgeable. He’s read many of the same books she has read. He made her laugh in ways she hadn’t in a long time. He showed noble behavior and didn’t seem like the man working construction that she first met. Now she’s definitely intrigued. He asked about her. She gave her background, but there wasn’t much to her. She mentioned she wanted to do something with herself and not be defined as just a wife or mother. She wanted an education. Her parents have been trying to get her married, but she doesn’t want to right now. She’s only 19, so there’s still time. She asked about him. He mentioned he’s not from Garvol. He said he’s been looking for his sister. He stopped here to look for work  for a while so that he can earn some money to keep looking for her. He mentioned they were separated when they were young and found that she is still alive. He told her it was kind of a somber topic and didn’t want to bring it up on a first date, but that’s why he’s there. They talked about many things that night.

As they were about to go their separate ways, he finally asked how it went. Oh no. She had to give her answer now. She could get rid of him forever now. But this was such a surprisingly pleasant experience. She couldn’t hide it. She couldn’t lie either. She told him she had a good time. Shilven was exhilarated. What was she going to do? Whatever his roots are, there is no way her parents would accept him. Who knows how it will go. He won’t be in Garvol for too long. It won’t last that long. Right?

The second date went well too. He’s easy to talk to. He has a good sense of humor and is personable. Charming too. She can be herself around him and not have to worry about being a proper lady all the time. 

Xanda had to tell someone about Shilven. Her two best friends couldn’t believe her. She’s dating that same guy who always bothered her? She tried to explain to them, but they are much like her mother.

Xanda’s parents started suspecting something. She was acting differently. Happier. Cheerful. She never spent this much time with her friends. She couldn’t hide her relationship with Shilven anymore. Her parents acted exactly how she thought. A lot of yelling how she’s too good for a commoner, how he could never give her the life she deserves, how betrayed they felt. This is exactly why she told Shilven she couldn’t tell her parents about him. After everything, she couldn’t promise her parents that she would break it off like they wanted.

They decided Xanda wouldn’t be let outside without them. Only her two best friends could see her, since they’re proper ladies and would be a good influence on her. They had never seen her so miserable. They tried to convince her it was just a fling, but Xanda knew it was more than that.

She heard that Shilven tried to talk to her parents.. Their anger with Xanda was multiplied at him. He couldn’t get them to understand.

Her friend (we’ll call her Salami) hated to see her this way. 

Salami convinced her parents to let Xanda visit her overnight so that Xanda wasn’t cooped up at home for once. They trusted her, so they agreed. 

They went to Salami’s house in the evening as it was just getting dark. Upon approaching the property, Salami stopped and told someone they can come out now. Xanda looked up and in the direction to where her friend was talking and someone came out of the foliage. It was Shilven. She was so surprised she dropped everything and ran to him and jumped in his arms. He held her so tight. She told him how she missed him and how sorry she was about her parents. He told her the days have been so hard without seeing her and how he wrote her letters. They never reached her. 

They didn’t have much time, lest someone see them. Salami’s parents were gossipers and wouldn’t keep it a secret from Xanda’s parents.

Xanda would lament to Salami how much she missed Shilven. Salami just wanted Xanda to feel better. She didn’t realize she actually loved him. Salami became the messenger between the two. Unfortunately, Xanda’s parents were getting serious about her marrying someone of their choosing. 

Shilven’s job was ending soon and he was still needed to find his sister. He knew she was out there somewhere, but couldn’t leave Xanda either. He knew he lived a transient life and a relationship was out of the question, but didn’t expect to meet her.

Salami gave Xanda a letter from Shilven. Xanda asked her to set up another meeting in the guise of a sleepover like before. She asked for the last day of Shilven’s job. She packed more than she did last time.

Xanda asked Shilven if he was really leaving. He didn’t want to answer, but said that he needed to find his sister and didn’t want to leave her, but he would be back. Who knows how long that will take. She told him she couldn’t go on like this and by the time he comes back, she’d be married off to someone. She told him they have no future in Garvol whether he leaves or not. She told him she’s going wherever he’s going. Shilven was really surprised. He explained it will be hard for her never staying in one place for long, traveling for days, not always having a bed. He didn’t want to take everything away from her. He couldn’t convince her though. She said there was no point om staying here.

They stayed at Shilven’s that night. Xanda wrote a letter to have Salami give to her parents, how they wouldn’t ruin her life anymore. Xanda and Shilven quietly left Garvol early the next morning.

Xanda’s parents read the letter and they no longer had a daughter.

Shilven was right. It was rough. Xanda wasn’t used to this lifestyle. She knew she was slowing him down, but she kept strong for him. For everything she left behind. For herself.

It had been over a year now and they really weren’t any closer in their search for Shilven’s sister. They were running low on funds too. They came to Tamvarel to stay for a while and increase their funds. Xanda found work at the library, something she had always wanted. It was nice to finally have some sense of stability. Some sense of normalcy.

. . .

Then the fire came. How did it start? Was this punishment? 

Everything went dark.

. . .

Xanda woke up. She had no idea how long it had been. Or what happened. Everything hurt. She had no idea where she was. She called out for Shilven, but he wasn’t there. A nurse was surprised to find her awake. She asked for Shilven. He hadn’t been there in a months.

Abandoned. 

She left everything to be with him. Now here she is, burned and bandaged. Her face is unrecognizable. It was all for show. Love at first sight? Who does that? He really did only love her for her looks. Now that that’s gone, so is he.

Xanda, so distraught and not thinking straight, tried to escape. The nurses tried to stop her. She shot lightning at them. She didn’t manage to get far. Just enough to be away from everyone. She figured she would just wither and die. What was the point now?

She looked up and saw a tall, black haired man and a blue haired boy. They asked her name. She told them to go away.

Everything turned black.

How long will everything be black?

I want to clarify that Shilven is not creepy or stalkerish (they crossed paths a lot because it's a busy area), just persistent. lol

I have to admit that I love the unapproving parents/class difference trope. But I wanted it to be dumb how they met.

And it's not that Xanda never wanted to marry at all, she just likes her independence. Shilven is the needy one who can’t be away from her. And Xanda is absolutely the one in charge.

I never named her friends, but I’ve always used deli products as placeholder names. Her other friend is Balogne. :>

It’s important to note for later that Shilven doesn’t know she can use magic.

[unohanadaydreams]

How would the captains react to catching their partner cheating on them? I’m feeling angst tonight

Finally some good fucking food. Angst; it’s what’s for dinner and I’m chowing down with you, anon.

Features: angst. Some violence and torture with Gin and Mayuri.

How The Original Captains React To Being Cheated On:

Genryusai Yamamoto:

There’s little to no reaction. You wouldn’t be the first and won’t be the last to use him for status or money or petty bragging rights. Just another day.

Quietly, behind closed doors, he does mourn. Not for the loss of you, but for the prospect of starting again. He caresses the pretty things he’s bought you, each touch a vote for or against bothering.

If you come to him, apologetic and willing to repent, he’ll look past the transgression. Less work for him to undertake, in the end, and the power of demanding this is that in the name of forgiveness suits him.

Shunsui Kyoraku:

He can’t help but laugh. All those years chasing girls and washing his hands of the consequences come to catch him now that he’s standing still with just one hand holding his.

Business goes on as usual, but he’s sloppier around the edges—spilling sake on paper work, falling asleep against Jushiro’s grave, and forsaking the frequent partying he’s known for in lieu of furiously scribbling down the perfect love story he didn’t get.

Honestly, he’s willing to forgive if it wasn’t done out of love for the other person and there’s a willingness to work on the relationship. Shunsui has played the unfaithful lover more times than he can remember; being black out drunk more often than sober will do that to you.

Soi Fon:

She can’t speak and doesn’t bother. Throat closed with anger, she lets her body tell you where your relationship lies—thrown off the bed and kicked outside.

There’s nothing but hatred for you and humiliation for herself. Not just personally, but professionally; a leader of the 2nd division being caught unawares is irony at the cost of her reputation.

People are always leaving her behind once she trusts them. After weeks, she’ll ask you why. Because that’s always the question burning in her chest. Why can’t she be a person someone stays for.

Gin Ichimaru:

Cute, how you think you can shuffle off and away from him after getting caught. He doesn’t flinch, talking with conversational tones. Hey, sweetie, who’s your little friend? Aww, they don’t talk or some thin’?

There’s two options; submit to grueling public humiliation or die. Gin loves to have fun, after all. And, isn’t it fun having to watch the person you cheated with get toyed with like a mouse under kitty claws? Aren’t you having fun kissing the corpse? Wasn’t your silly mistake worth it?

Gin has never forgiven, forgotten, or turned down an opportunity to make someone who cares about him regret feeling so. Your life is hell and the jailor can’t decide whether to keep your head under boiling water or kill you. Fun!

Retsu Unohana:

The impulse to leave as the only one alive is temptation incarnate. She is firm, restrained, and digs into her cheeks until her teeth pop through.

She keeps waiting to calm, for the situation to become objective instead of the turmoil in her gut. Retsu is especially brusque with everyone while working, making every stitch job a painful one. Why is there always something. Why can’t all the change finally stick; why is she still glad to feel the pain so she can inflict it back?

The betrayal was the end and there’s years of coping methods that keep you from spilling your guts on a sword, but it feels like a very near thing to her. Professionally, she’s less kind, and your next set of wounds healed by the 4th get infected. Poor thing.

Sosuke Aizen:

As far as you know, he’s stricken with heartbreak and disappointment. His voice is a touch too loud when telling you off—others hear. And disapprove greatly. He asks any bystanders for their discretion towards his privacy, adding a tear or two for effect.

Your relationship being over matters little; dime a dozen are the people who’ll fall over themselves to be his. The audacity of treating him, your better, with such unfairness? Affects him like an itch under skin.

Of course, he forgives you. He makes a show of it and the number of people out for your unhappiness grows. How could you cheat on such a gracious, loving man? You are punished with little action from himself, the many shinigami who view him with starry-eyes doing their work without needing explicit instruction.

Byakuya Kuchiki:

There’s little to say or do outside of making it clear he wants you gone in a permanent way. Reaction is the thief of dignity, so he saves any emotion for when he’s alone.

Self flagellation is his favorite dessert and he is convinced the bitter taste reflects his character somehow. In a way, it speaks to his lack of care and dignity as a clan leader; what fully aware man could let this happen?

For you, there aren’t any chances let alone forgiveness. You’ve stung his pride in multiple ways and only social norms keep you from dying in a duel over it. But as a shinigami—as a captain—he has avenues to vent his vindication until he feels the crime has been payed for. Too bad for you that pride is worth it’s weight in gold for a Kuchiki.

Sajin Komamura:

He runs away from the situation as soon as possible. Of course you cheated on him; how foolish to think anyone would not. At least he knows now and can get back to his normal.

Being alone isn’t all bad. There’s more time for his pets, his company, and his training. Comforting, familiar, he can pretend this is how it always was. Just him, alone.

His lack of self-esteem outweighs his want for justice. It was unfair to subject anyone to…himself, anyway. He can’t blame you for wanting someone untouched by the curse of the beast.

Kaname Tosen:

There’s more anger than even you expect. Injustice in anything, especially something so personal, enrages him. But he has the self control and sense to only send you packing.

Still, it’s all he can think about. Better to be consumed by this than the glacial pace his better world is taking. You’re one of the people holding that goal back, he’s sure. He insists on a talk that’s really just a long, painful lecture.

People like you, who disregard what’s right, don’t deserve forgiveness and the upset within him darkens. Maybe there is a way you can make things right. They’re so close to perfecting the Arrancar and he’d like to see how you’ve contributed once his eyes open, finally able to see.

Toshiro Hitsugaya:

There aren’t any dramatics or punishments or even words to give you other than ‘goodbye’. He sees the break and he cuts it cleanly. There’s no need for anything else.

Largely he copes by doing what he always does—working, training, meditating. There are a few sips of alcohol and punches to his pillow, but you’re no longer someone he cares about. The ice has holed over the spot you took just fine.

You don’t exist to him anymore. If you try to apologize, his eyes will pass over you and he’ll remind you once before ignoring you again: He’s a captain and he’s closed the conversation and now he’s getting back to work. Goodbye.

Kenpachi Zaraki:

So you’re fucking somebody. Is that a big deal or something? Should he be hurt? Because all he can muster is annoyance.

And then he thinks about it. He lets it sink in that somebody was touching you while you’re his. Kenpachi understands the want to play, but isn’t love when someone is the best in your heart and only them? Like, strength but more fucking confusing.

He’s still undecided if there’s anything to forgive. He tells you to give it another go with him in the mix and likes the feeling better than walking in uninvited. So maybe it was just play…and maybe he’s more rough with you two than intended. But he leaves more content than he came, so he figures everything’s fine. He can always kill somebody later, once he’s figured it out for good.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi:

You’re knocked unconscious and so is the person you were in bed with. That’s the last you see of them or the world beyond one lab room.

Congratulations, you are now confined to a pill that is swallowed by gigai after gigai designed in your likeness. Isn’t he generous, letting you take part in his research still? Don’t you feel honored to still feel any part of his touch as he takes you apart somehow more painfully than the time before?

Because it is just research. He didn’t care about you enough to still feel enraged about it. This is purely out of principle, a logical response to your base actions. Don’t worry, it’s just forever.

Jushiro Ukitake:

The discovery is emotional and he struggles keep his dignity, especially when a coughing fit starts soon after. He can’t even tell you off without sickness leaking into the moment.

The spiral begins. You’re awful one moment and justified the next. He’s the victim, then the one who should’ve known. There was no good reason and then he coughs again and there’s one.

He could forgive you if you’re genuine and forthright with a reason that isn’t the weight which holds him under blankets or pushes blood past his lips. As long as the illness isn’t what poisoned the relationship, he could forgive you.

[theladyofdeath]

The Viscount Who Loved Me {Fifteen}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain - Feyre x Rhysand - Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary: (see TVWLM masterlist!)

A/N: Thank you for reading! From now until the end, I'll be posting a chapter every night at 7pm EST! x

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

My dearest readers,

Have you heard that a certain baron has been attending the Velaris Art Academy? He must truly be avoiding the social season if he has taken such lengths to distract himself. Who would want to paint when they could be finding a wife?

I will never understand.

The Suriel

Gwyn laid across the chaise in a perfect pose, one hand draped across her abdomen, the other resting above her head. She looked just beyond Azriel, above his shoulder into nothingness.

He drew her, eyes flicking up every few seconds to memorize another inch of her, but it was going horribly wrong.

His mind wasn’t in it, nor was his heart. He was far too distracted, and she could tell.

“Why do I have the feeling only half of you is present?” She asked, a lovely thin brow arched.

Azriel sighed, dropping the charcoal in his hand before pinching his brow. “It’s been a…long few weeks.”

“Does this have to do with the girl you’re in love with?” She asked, eyes alight.

Azriel’s gaze snapped to hers and he frowned. “Are you known for putting yourself into other peoples business?”

Gwyn thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps us poor folk are not as shy and timid in our conversation as those of you with wealth.”

Only Gwyn could make him feel inferior for having money. He didn’t disagree though. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thankful for his full coffers, but there was something to say for not worrying about what others thought of you. Of not worrying about your status or reputation.

There was a reason he hadn’t denied his feelings for Elain to Gwyn when she’d brought them up. She was the only person he could admit that he may be thinking he even had feelings for Elain. If anyone in the ton found out?

Forget the scandal of Rhys and Nesta refusing to marry. Forget Elain’s broken heart after that prick married another young lady.

A young man lusting after his own brother’s bride-to-be might be the most salacious gossip the ton of Velaris had ever heard.

Which is why it had to stay a secret from them.

“They announced their engagement,” he said, at last. “My brother and…the lady in question.”

Gwyn looked at him for a moment and he knew her intrigue was genuine. She sat up, forgetting her pose entirely. “And how do you feel about that?”

Azriel’s first instinct was to snap at her. Sharing his feelings was not something that Azriel felt passionately about. In fact, his inner soul was his own and he hated letting others near it. Yet, he enjoyed talking with Gwyn, enjoyed her company. She had become a good friend, surprisingly enough. 

“I am angry,” he confessed, quietly. “And I have no reason to be, so I feel guilty for that anger.”

Gwyn nodded as if she completely understood. “You should feel no guilt for how you feel about this woman. Love knows no bounds. The heart wants what it wants, and there should be no shame in that.”

Azriel scoffed, not because he did not absorb her words, but because she simply did not understand the ways of the ton. “If others were to find out about how I feel for Elain—“

He caught her name the moment it slipped his mouth but Gwyn did not even blink an eye. She continued to watch him, continued to listen.

“It would cause scandal,” he finished, staring at his unfinished drawing.

“And do you care?” She asked, head cocked to the side. “If you are the center of scandal?”

“No,” he confessed, “but I care if she and Cassian are.”

“You care for both of them,” she said, though he would have thought that was obvious.

“Of course, I do.” He raked a hand through his hair, not caring if he smeared charcoal along his forehead or in his hair. “Cassian may not be blood, but he’s my brother, no less. And Elain…” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. “If you knew Elain you’d understand. She was…so withdrawn at the beginning of the season, ashamed of the way her last season had ended.” As he stared at the paint-splattered wood floor beneath him, it occurred to him that Gwyn likely knew none of the background regarding Elain’s failed debut into society. He wasn’t going to explain that now, not when it wasn’t even his story to tell. “She had finally started to open herself again, to blossom and show the world just how beautiful and kind and selfless she is. I had thought that maybe, I was…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Gwyn’s nimble fingers were suddenly beneath his chin. He hadn’t even heard her stand, but suddenly she was before him and was tipping his face up to look into her own. “You thought that maybe you were the reason she’d bloomed.”

How did she see through him so easily?

“It was a foolish thought,” Azriel said, quietly.

Gwyn shook her head, her hand falling from his chin. “I have not known you for very long, Azriel, but I know who you are, your spirit. You must see yourself in a better light, for that is what you deserve.”

Azriel blinked, thrown off by her statement, her compliment. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just continued to stare before he said, “You moved from your position. It took me twenty minutes to get you in the right spot.”

Gwyn’s face lit up as she laughed. With a shake of her head, she walked back to the chaise and attempted to get back into position. “You’re too serious, my lord.”

She crooned the last words and Azriel snorted as he rolled his eyes. “Do not call me that.”

Her grin widened and he chastised her. His subject did not smile.

The second her face fell into neutralness and Azriel put the tip of his charcoal to paper, she said, “You need a distraction.”

He was lucky he hadn’t lifted the heel of his hand, otherwise the piece would have been ruined. “A distraction?”

She hummed in confirmation, which Azriel assumed meant she would have nodded, had the angle of her head not been exactly where he wanted it. It also meant she wasn’t going to elaborate, not without some coaxing from him.

The initial shock of her words gone, he let his eyes drop back to his piece as he started to sketch again. “What kind of distraction?”

It was a stupid question, he knew exactly what kind of distraction she offered, but…he hadn’t expected it. Many of the female students were more than willing to pose for their male counterparts, as Gwyn did. They often stripped down to nothing, letting themselves be put into positions that could be considered quite compromising, but loving every second of it. It was a type of freedom that Azriel, as a man, would never understand.

But never Gwyn. She would pose for him and a few others he knew, but never nude. He’d never asked, had never thought to, with his head so wrapped around Elain.

There was a glint in her teal eyes that Azriel could see from across the room and she shrugged, her body falling right back into place and staying there.

The room filled with comfortable silence as he drew Gwyn, far more invested than he’d been minutes before, as he let the thoughts of the damn ton and his expectations leave his head.

Maybe a distraction was just what he needed.

<.>

Rhysand was alone.

He had rarely been alone lately and he had to admit that he did not like it much. Azriel was at the academy and Cassian was off getting fitted for his wedding jacket. He still couldn’t believe the bastard was getting married.

Marriage.

He thought of the word more often these days, thought about the vow he made to his father, that he would not pass down that horrid man’s name, that the Lunasa family name would die with Rhysand.

It was a vow he stood by.

Yet, that vow had grown more difficult to keep in recent days. 

There was not a moment that went by that he was not thinking of Feyre. Her smile, her scent, the way she kissed him, the sounds she made while he pleasured her…it all consumed his thoughts. There had never been a woman so tempting to keep as her.

Rhysand had been with women before. Not only those down by the docks, but ladies of the ton, as well. There was a time when the Queen had made it her personal mission to marry off Rhysand, but he never did. None of them ever made him feel a thing.

Until Feyre.

A vow that he’d made almost ten years ago was falling to shreds in just a matter of months.

Or that may have just been his resolve as Feyre dug herself deeper and deeper into his skin. With every kiss, with every touch, with every breath they shared, he was becoming weaker, had begun to imagine things he had no place imagining.

Was she a morning person or did she prefer to be up with the stars, like him? How many spoons of sugar did she take in her tea? Did she sleep on the right or the left side of the bed?

Something told him she was the type to sleep in the middle and spread out until she was comfortable.

If he wasn’t careful, he wasn’t going to just let her beneath his skin, she was going to burrow into his soul, into heart.

Which was something he absolutely could not allow.

Even if it was already happening.

With a curse he pushed away the stack of papers on his desk that he should have been going through, but wasn’t.

He wasn’t being fair to her, he knew that, and he hated himself for it. She needed a husband, it was what she wanted and what she was looking for, even if she had recently convinced herself otherwise. Just because she didn’t want to marry the prince did not mean that she did not want to marry, ever.

There were plenty of times when he told himself that he should leave her alone but he just couldn’t. She called to him, and he could not deny her of anything. She had consumed him, body and soul, and he would happily let her consume him until the day that she no longer looked his way.

But it wasn’t fair.

None of it was fair.

It wasn’t fair that Rhysand could not marry.

It wasn’t fair that he could not have children.

It wasn’t fair that he had found a woman that he could see himself with and knew that the time they spent together was slowly ticking away.

Their little charade had become far too real and he had no idea when that had taken place. As much as he wanted to say that it was the night in the theater, he was fairly sure he was long gone by then. If he hadn’t been, he never would have made such a selfish request, for her to meet him, for her to have given herself to him.

A chill ran down Rhysand’s spine as he repeated his own words in his head. It wasn’t as if they were a sudden realization, but it was the first time he’d considered the implications and consequences of what they’d done.

Feyre had given herself to him, given all of herself, without a second thought. Her virginity, her maidenhead, her innocence. The most prized and protected thing a young lady of high society possessed, especially the Diamond, and he had taken it from her.

He’d ruined her.

He prayed that whoever she ended up marrying one day wasn't one of the pretentious bastards who brought a physician in to check the legitimacy of her virtue. Usually, those were the old men who were looking for something young and pretty to breed and pop out an heir, and the thought of Feyre ending up shackled to one of those pricks…

It suddenly occurred to him that it wasn’t just the thought of Feyre marrying some old, decrepit lord with one foot in the grave that ignited a brewing storm in his belly. It was the thought of her marrying anyone.

The claim he felt he had over her was wrong on so many levels, not just that he wouldn’t marry and he knew he was playing with her heart at this point.

He was playing with his own as well.

<.>

Nesta sat outside on the patio in the dark, looking up at the stars. She had no idea how long she’d been out there, had no idea if it had been minutes or hours.

But there she was, thinking of the ball two nights before.

She had almost kissed him.

She had wanted to kiss him.

Had wanted to do far more.

Now, she was racked with guilt. Feyre and her had not spoken after she had walked in on them, not really. She had told Nesta she would not tell a soul, but that’s all the conversation consisted of.

They had not spoken a word to one another since.

She hoped Feyre was telling the truth, that she would keep it to herself. It was no secret that the sisters did not always see eye to eye. In fact, they rarely got along since the death of their mother.

And if Elain were to find out what had conspired between Nesta and Cassian? Nesta would never recover. 

She wasn’t sure if Elain ever would either.

Shame coursed through Nesta as she thought about how she’d avoided Elain since they returned home. She’d feigned a headache in the carriage on the ride home, but there were only so many excuses she could come up with before Elain wondered what was wrong.

The damn burning in her eyes returned and Nesta cursed her stupid emotions as she closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she was powerless to stop them.

The creaking of the door opening behind her had Nesta tucking the robe she was wearing tighter around herself, turning to see—

Feyre froze as she took in Nesta’s seated form. She was wearing a dark cloak, the hood pulled up to hide her face and hair. Her eyes looked around the yard behind their home, but she didn’t see anyone or anything. Hesitantly, she approached her sister. “What are you doing out here?”

Nesta wiped at her face. “I could ask you the same thing.” She tried to infuse the words with her usual bite, but they came out shaky.

Feyre hesitated. “I couldn’t sleep. I was going for a ride.”

Nesta’s brows rose, even though she had snuck a horse out of the stables on multiple occasions. “That’s not very safe, Feyre.”

Feyre’s surprised expression hardened. “Don’t you dare start lecturing me on making good decisions.” 

On any other day, Nesta would have snapped. She would have fought, would have spat. But today, she was emotionally drained, and even she surprised herself when she said, “You’re right.”

Feyre stilled, as if it were the last thing she expected to hear. Perhaps that’s why she walked to where Nesta sat and plopped down beside her. 

After a moment, Feyre asked, “Do you wish to talk about it?”

“About what?” She asked, before she could stop herself.

Feyre’s voice only quieted. “Nesta.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek and Nesta angrily wiped it away. “Nothing happened,” she began, at last, “I need you to know that nothing happened between us.”

Feyre looked skeptical but nodded. “So, what did happen then?”

Nesta couldn’t respond because she had no idea. What had happened? One minute they were spewing hate and the next she was so lost in his gaze that she couldn’t imagine functioning properly again until he had claimed her. 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, voice low. If Feyre hadn’t been sitting right next to her, she likely wouldn’t have heard her. “He just… He enrages me and— and he infuriates me and when I’m around I lose all sense of myself. He…consumes me.”

There’s a pause. “I understand that.”

Nesta’s eyes find Feyre’s, so much like her own, but also wholly different. Where Nesta’s were often cold and wary, Feyre’s held a fire that she could never quite find in herself. 

The flame currently burning in them was low, but Nesta could feel the intensity, even as they left her and looked back out over the sprawling law, right to the fence and trees beyond. “You feel his presence the moment either of you enter a room. His voice is like the sweetest lullaby you’ve ever heard, but also a call to something inside of you that you never knew existed.” The corners of her lips tilted up in a secret smile. “The barest of touches sends your heart racing and you don’t know how to slow it down or if you even want to try.” Throat bobbing, Feyre tilted her face to the stars. “I understand that.”

Nesta was staring, not only because everything Feyre had said had struck true, but because…she really did understand.

“Where were you going tonight, Feyre?”

It wasn’t accusatory, the question was genuine.

Eyes still on the stars, Feyre replied, “For a ride.”

The words were light, and there was a small smile still on Feyre’s lips, and Nesta decided then that she wouldn’t press. Even as ideas of where her sister was going flooded her mind, she didn’t voice them. 

“But now I am going nowhere,” Feyre continued, and Nesta continued to watch her sister curiously. “Now I am sitting here with you, basking in our secrets.”

Secrets.

Secrets that would stay between them, secrets that no one else would come to know. There was a comfort in that, a comfort in all of this, that Nesta did not have to bear her feelings for Cassian alone. Although nothing would ever come of it, someone else would know of what she felt for him, and she thought for a moment that that would be enough. 

In the moonlight, Feyre took Nesta’s hand and they remained there, staring up at the stars in silence. Nesta found a beautiful sense of peace for the first time in a long time. 

____________________________________________________________

@mariamuses @photofeesh @the-regal-warrior @gracie-rosee @irisofink @strawberries-and-reveries @zeppelin-and-unicorns @live-the-fangirl-life @cassianscool @clacings @argentumstella @cuppamelia @chillspritecranberry @emilyrose111294 @awesomelena555 @gengen64 @dontbenddontbreak @blueunoias @liliput2203 @sleeping-and-books @kindofawalkingpoem @thebitchydonutcollector @shedoessoshedoes @cretaceous-therapod @emily-gsh @annie-laur @impossiblehistoryofquotes @midnightrose-reader @beanl1 @shniya-hiiragi @towhateverend87 @deezrmuhsheeple @pintas3107 @sarcasm-is-the-best-insult @santkazoya @lady-winter-sunrise @themoonthestarsthesuriel @story-scribbler @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @sv0430 @dreammoutlouddd @katlady13 @lokisllama @mrspettyferr @missannieshay @live-the-fangirl-life @headinclouds48 @secretlycressdarnel @awesomethreedragons @lokisllama @littlehoneyybee @vicioux @cest-la-vieve @lokisllama  @thewinterroza @aching-for-distance

[red-writes]

Career oriented 

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot      of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first. 

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you. 

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

 A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg. 

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore. 

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club” 

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?” 

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm. 

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right? 

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am” 

+

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort. 

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy. 

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try. 

+

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified. 

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest. 

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous. 

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally. 

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be” 

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date. 

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin. 

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead. 

“Okay, I have an idea” 

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again. 

“What do you say?”

“Alright!” 

+

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work. 

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake. 

“No, just realized somethin’” 

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?” 

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face. 

“You look pretty when you're having fun” 

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other. 

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed. 

+

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged. 

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax. 

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was. 

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road. 

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face. 

+

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming. 

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together. 

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer. 

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

+

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and  laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were.  He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside. 

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you. 

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move. 

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you. 

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head. 

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls  greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time. 

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy. 

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest. 

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. 

“That’s my hard working girl” 

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment. 

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want” 

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Goodnight love” 

“Night Kats..”

[the-tiniest-one]

Hello! I saw you asking for requests to be sent in. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for kakashi and gai (separately) with a plus size civilian s/o? Or one or the other? Thank you in advance ❤

MIGHT GUY

SO we all know Guy is ALL about 3 things. Youth. Passion. Protecting Precious People….and guess what? When you happen to cross paths with the Leaf Village’s Blue Beast, he trips over himself to let you know just how PRESH you are.

I don't see your status as a civilian as much of a road block for him. He needs someone grounded and with soft hands to hold.

Someone who will think he’s the strongest man in the world, a superhero.

He protects the ones he loves with his life and once you're in that circle there is no way out of this man’s giant heart.

You somehow enter Guy’s line of sight, maybe on a walk to class or work too early in the morning…. and from that moment you pass by and he catches sight of your pretty face, he is out for the count.

Now. Lets remember….Guy is CONFIDENT (sometimes more in spirit than in actual ability, he is the fake-it-till-you-make-it KING).

Also important to note: Guy is NOT the same as Rock Lee in his pursuit of women. He’s not about to blow every kiss at you from the jump or shamelessly confess everything out right. Don't get me wrong, he’s shameless….but Guy wants to be seen as someone cool, sexy, a real macho/mighty man... He wants to be slick Kakashi his eternal rival. He’s going to try to be velvety smooth….without success.

He would find any excuse to be in your eye line while flexing or saving a poor disguised student he employed for his contrived scheme, in this case... Neji or Lee in a dress from falling off a building LOL. (“They would be asking him to please explain again how this is training?”)------You might be a civilian. But Genjutsu of that level does NOT work on you LOL.

You are the one to finally introduce yourself to a slumped and defeated Guy after about a week of his adorable attempts at trying to bate you in with his goober acts.

“Hello, my name is (y/n). I was hoping maybe you would like to get a drink sometime?” you say with a half smile.

He would raise his head, teeth BEAMING….the power of youth always prevails!

Best. Decision. Ever. Guy charming and not to mention SHREDDED.

When he accepts your date offer, He would stand and grin, maybe saying something a little cocky like; “A handsome, war hardened devilish shinobi such as myself will always find time to satiate the voracious desires of such a heavenly woman so bursting with the essence springtime.”

He would be so so so respectful.

That being said, you're HIGH AF if you think you aren't making a B-line to walk by Kakashi on the way so Guy can tactfully walk by loudly so that his rival notices he’s with a cute girl.

He’s going to be the chivalrous type. The kind of man who makes sure your hands are around his giant bicep whenever he escorts you anywhere….which from this point on is almost anytime he is home from missions or not training.

Guy is perfect. He’s tall, JACKED, and such a sweet loving man.

He is obsessed with your shampoo. His nose is always in your hair.

Lets face it. Guy is 100% the most physical man that has ever walked the streets of Konoha. If you aren't big on touching, then his is not the man for you.

One hand will always be around your waist, holding your hand, arm around your neck, locked on your curves or anywhere else….respeeeectfully of course.

He will always be up on you and in your face so get ready for that LOL.

He will be proud of you. He will be boisterous to an exhausting level about your achievements.

He will be exhilarating in every way.

One of Guy’s greatest strengths is also one of his most unfortunate downfalls. He is wildly protective. Never underestimate his ferocity when it comes to you. You may have to communicate more than once where the line is when it comes to him watching over you. Even though you aren’t skilled in combat as he is, you also are not a child and he will take some time to learn what you require and what you don’t.

He always means well.

You have some faults and things to work on as well. Guy is tender as hell, an emotional, hot blooded, love sick fool who can and WILL take things you say to heart so be sure if you notice him freaking out or trying too hard to make you happy, to hold him and let me know often that he is perfect the way he his.

In the end all of the passions and butterflies that Guy provokes from your heart are entirely justified.

He will ask you to marry him after a date, probably at sunset, one knee, giant ring he spent way too much on.

He claims you deserve the world and you tell him that instead of the world “you would settle for just having his hands, his lips, and his heart.”

Do your best to return his love to the best of your ability because not everyone gets the chance to be loved by the Hidden Leafs Handsome Blue Beast.

KAKASHI

I’ve never seen Kakashi as someone who would end up with another shinobi bombshell.

Instead I think he would find himself interested in someone who is a total badass in another line of work.

Example; You first encounter him one day while advising Lady Tsunade on the information the Hidden Leaf Village (and a few others) pay’s your company large sums of money to collect, aggregate, and report.

Kakashi stands guard during the meeting, watching you speak with an eloquent grace and authority he finds captivating and maybe a little seductive.

By then end of the meeting he is curious about you...wondering what you thought of him, what you think about everything.... You never even look his way.

He falls in line with you as we escorts you out of the building, walking beside you in the otherwise empty stairwell.

You smirk and take the liberty of speaking first. “Did you enjoy the show Scarecrow?”

From that moment on he’s hooked.

Now I also don’t find the idea of him falling for someone with some FULL curves to be all that outlandish….He has never given .00000001% of a shit what other people think.

He also shares the famous Pervy Sage’s taste in “women he describes from research” and romantic books about women shaped like gourds so with that logic in mind….dude likes thicc, full, curvaceous women for sure. It's basically cannon at this point ;)

Kakashi is someone who has learned emotional detachment through pain. You are the first person who shows promise in tearing down those defenses.

Your relationship not necessarily a slow burn. Kashi isn’t a kid, just because he hasn’t fallen head over heals with anyone before, doesn’t mean he is a mystery to himself or oblivious to his feelings.

That being said, I do think he will protect you by keeping a relationship with you under wraps for the first year or so.

If anything EVER happened to you….he wont let that happen.

The secrecy could be hard on you at first.

Watching more than a few women flirt shamelessly with your Kashi is beyond ROUGH.

Especially considering most of them are tough as nails ninja women with perfect bodies. You aren't used to feeling threatened by other people men or women, so you have a hard time learning how to deal with it.

Kakashi is always quick to remind you that he is serious about your relationship though.

He looks at you with a ferocity only seen by people who are no longer alive. His voice is low and serious when he gets close and tells you, “(Y/N) You are my entire life. I will never leave you. I promise I am yours until the day I die.”

After a few times of him promising you that he really is in love with you, you believe him and can be secure in his word.

As his girlfriend, you take his breath away.

The way you speak, move, sleep….

Even the way you casually conduct yourself at home and in public makes him more than proud to know who you are. Let alone get to go home to you.

Guy is the first one to catch on believe it or not. He notices Kakashi peaking over the top of his book at you as you walk down the opposite side of the street. He’s known Kakashi since they were kids, he puts a reassuring hand on your boyfriends shoulder and vows without spoken words to protect you when Kakashi can’t be there….and Kakashi understands. It helps him sleep just a little better knowing he has help.

Stargazing on a rooftop one chilly autumn night, Kakashi grabs your hand and proposes to you with a small silver ring, slightly ashamed for it’s lack of a stone.

“I want you to be my wife.” is all he says and you wrap your arms around him whispering in his ear “You have had my heart since the first day I met you…. And you always will.”

His heart melts into a puddle at the sound of you telling him he will have a wife. Finally have family that loves him this much.

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Seventeen

⚠WARNING: Swearing

• ────── ✾ ────── •

For five days Osamu ignores you. Your texts go unanswered, calls are sent to voicemails, meet ups at the café are now solo trips.

You’re beyond upset at this point. If this is his way of needing space, that’s fine. You’d be okay with giving him space - you just need to know if he wants space. Having this awful radio silence between you is driving you mad. What if he’s sick? What if he needs to go to the hospital? He lives alone and his family isn’t close, and he hasn’t mentioned other friends to you before. You’ve talked plenty about Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki - surely he would’ve offered up stories about his friends if he had them, no?

But you also worry that you’ve done something to really offend him. He’s a pretty laid back guy (all things considered) so you must have really pissed him off if he’s resorting to ignoring all forms of communication.

You just need to know. Even if it will be the end of your friendship (something your brain isn’t ready to comprehend, thank you very much) you have to know why Osamu doesn’t want to talk to you.

So you’ve changed plans. You decide to skip afternoon classes and set up camp at the cafe. You knew he visited the cafe at least once a day, and you thought that maybe he was coming at different times to avoid you but you weren’t gonna let that happen so you would change your schedule and ambush him.

It was literally the only idea you could think of and at this point you were desperate.

“Jasmine tea, right?” The barista greets you when you step up to the register.

“Yes please,” you answer, reaching to grab your wallet from your bag.

“Hey, I haven’t seen that one guy who you’d been studying with in awhile. He used to come all the time.” The barista sets down your tea and types at the register. “What was his name, Osamu?”

You nod, trying to swallow your disappointment and pass over money to pay. If the employees here haven’t noticed Osamu coming in then maybe he is sick. And the odds of you coming across him here are slim to none.

You thank the barista and grab a table in a different spot of the cafe. The whole point of this is to change up your routine and try to see if Osamu will stop by. The last thing you want is for him to walk in, see you sitting at the table, and leave. You sit at your table, pull out your notebooks and get settled. Hopefully you can get some studying done while waiting.

A faint bell to indicate a new person coming in rings, and you nearly snap your neck to look in the direction of the front door. But it’s a young woman talking on her cell phone who walks in, not Osamu. You sigh to yourself and open your books.

~~~

The front door bell rings again, and like before you quickly look up. To your dismay, a group of three guys probably close to your age walk into the café and make their way to the register.

You’ve been at the café for 45 minutes and this time it’s the 10th time you’ve been tricked by someone walking in. You feel yourself wilt and look back down at your books, ignoring the stinging in your eyes. This is pointless.

“We’ve checked the campus all morning, and Shin combed the library top to bottom.”

The group of guys waiting in line are standing close enough to your new table that you can just hear what they’re saying. You don’t really eavesdrop on people, but it’s hard when they’re not really trying to keep quiet. And you had given up on your homework ages ago, so you just sit staring at the table while listening to the three friends talk.

“We know that he’s studying here. We should just go up to the registrar’s office and find out where he’s taking classes.” A second voice speaks up.

“Yeah, and how is that going to work?” The first guy was speaking again. “We’re going to waltz onto a campus of a school we don’t go to and what, ask nicely if they can tell us where our friend is? We’ll get the cops called on us for sure.”

“Enough.” The third friend spoke, and you didn’t have to look to know that his voice commanded an air of respect. “We’re here for a few more days, we cannot argue amongst ourselves.”

“Kita, it’s a big campus in a big city. It’s gonna take more than a miracle to find him.”

You look up and around the café, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the three guys who’s conversation you had overheard. The shorter friend takes his coffee from the barista with a nod and moves towards the sugar and creamer station. “Him ignoring our phone calls is making things difficult.” The guy paused again to pour sugar into his coffee. “But it’s his mother’s birthday soon, and I know she would like him to be home for it.” You look away to gaze outside but continue to listen (eavesdrop) to them. You can’t help but think that the shortest guy’s accent sounds very familiar to you.

“To hell with the birthday.” The second guy speaks again, sounding agitated. “Osamu should be home with us, not holed up in this city alone.”

Your head snaps in their direction again. The shorter man with black and white hair is nearly dwarfed by two other men, one dark-skinned and the other with dark hair parted down the center. The shorter man and dark-skinned man are busy making their coffees but the one with dark, parted hair catches your movement. You stare at each other, him having no problem holding your gaze. You watch him pull his phone out of his pocket, tap at the screen (without looking away) and bring the phone up. A quick flash and you realize that this stranger has taken your photograph.

What the hell?!

You start, not expecting the action and look back down abashed. This is what you get for eavesdropping, you dummy. You chance a quick glance and see the shorter man giving the photog a stern look. You look away again but you can’t shut your ears off as you hear them speak again.

“Delete that photo right now Suna.”

“But she was looking right at me!”

“Delete it.”

Footsteps approaching your table make you look up again and your pulse quickens when you realize the shorter man is approaching you. Behind him the dark-skinned man is scolding the other friend, both looking cross with each other. But you can’t focus on them as the short man has finally arrived at your table. To your massive surprise he bows in front of you.

“I sincerely apologize for my friend. I assure you that he deleted the photo he took and he will not be doing anything like that again.”

Hearing his voice you can definitely pick up the same accent Osamu has. His eyes are gentle and kind and he does look remorseful for his friend’s actions. “Uhhh, no worries.” You stammer out, still dazed by everything that is happening.

Before you can think to voice your confusion out loud the man bows again and takes his leave. He doesn’t get a few feet from your table before you're blurting out.

“I heard you talking about Osamu.”

The two friends hear you (as did everyone in the cafe) but they immediately make their way to your table. The dark-skinned man is looking at you with surprise but it’s the other friend’s face who catches you by surprise. He stomps over and leans down to your eye level.

“Where is he?” You’re taken aback by the ferociousness in his voice, and the frantic frazzled look in his eyes. The shorter man steps back to the table and rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“We’re friends of Osamu from back home, and we’re having trouble finding him. Are you a friend of his?”

“Uh, yes. Well, I think so.” You weren’t sure of your status now after he’s been ignoring your calls and messages.

“Well which is it?” The other man asks aggressively. You don’t get a chance to answer as you all hear the café door open and you turn to look at the newcomer.

Your heart flutters when you see Osamu walk through the door. It’s the first time you’ve seen him since realizing that you like him more than a friend, and besides relief at seeing him in person after he’s been ignoring you, you feel comfort at seeing him.

You meet his gaze and watch him stop in his steps when he sees you. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but it’s nothing compared to the look on his face when he takes in the full scene. Your heart twists when he pales, and before you can call out to him he takes off.

“Shit!” The man who took your photo takes off, expertly weaving through the small crowd in the café and following Osamu out the door. The second tall man chases after them a second later, having a bit more trouble getting through the other patrons.

The third, shortest friend remains, and you hear him heave a sigh. After a beat he speaks up. “May I join you?”

You start but not immediately. He doesn’t waste time in sitting down in the chair next to yours. Only when he gets situated do you realize what you’ve done - you’re letting someone who supposedly knows Osamu sit with you, someone that makes Osamu look like he’s seen a ghost and run away as fast as he can.

What if this man is dangerous? Did you just endanger Osamu’s life?

“We’re not here to hurt Osamu.” Your companion at your table speaks up. You have no idea how he was able to read your mind, and you feel even more suspicious. “My name is Kita Shinsuke - the one who took your photo is Suna Rintarou, and our other friend is Aran Ojiro. We’re friends of Osamu’s from Hyogo.”

You nod at his introduction, but you’re not buying it. Saying outright that you’re not going to hurt someone is exactly what someone who wants to hurt someone else would say.

Kita must sense your hesitation again and he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his phone, taps the screen and sets it on the table facing you. He nudges it in your direction, and you cautiously pick it up. What you see on the screen nearly makes you drop the phone in surprise.

It’s a group of guys - you immediately recognize this Kita person with his black and white hair, as well as Suna and Aran. You also see Osamu, giving the camera a lazy smile.

And his exact replica, standing next to him with a wider, cockier smile.

His twin.

Besides the initial shock of seeing a picture of Osamu’s twin, you see Osamu looking happy. He’s got his small smirk you’ve only seen a few times, and even then it pales in comparison to the smile he’s wearing in the photo. It’s such a stark difference to the cold, apathetic Osamu you know now that your heart can’t help but twist.

You hand the phone back to Kita silently. He takes it and puts it away.

“How long have you been friends with Osamu?” He asks.

You swallow. “A few weeks.”

Kita nods. “And do you know about Atsumu?”

“Is that his twin?” Kita nods at your question. “Then yes, that’s how we became friends, kind of.”

Kita gives you a confused look (his expression barely changes but you can just detect it.) You clear your throat. “I lost my best friend a few months ago. We realized we both had something in common and we’ve been able to talk about it with each other.”

Surprise flickers across his face before a serious, somber look takes its place. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you reply automatically. You appreciate his gesture, and you’ve been handling these kinds of interactions with general strangers for months. If, for some godforsaken reason, the passing of Hajime comes up in conversation everyone immediately offers their condolences, you thank them, and then the conversation continues. You’ve long been able to push aside the wave of grief that comes with the briefest of mentions of his passing. You understand that sometimes the stranger you were talking with doesn’t really mean the words they’re saying.

But with this Kita Shinsuke, you feel the sincerity behind it. It only comes from someone who can understand what you’re going through because they’ve gone through it themselves.

“Can I ask how much you know about Osamu and Atsumu?” Kita asks.

You struggle to find an adequate answer, embarrassed by your lack of knowledge about Osamu’s past. He always seemed uncomfortable talking about Atsumu, and you never wanted to push him. Gosh, can you really say you have deep feelings for him when you don’t even know how to answer this simple question?

“I know he came to Sendai for school.” You answer carefully, putting your insecurities away for now. “I think he wanted to get out of Hyogo.”

Kita’s response is a hum. It’s thoughtful, and you can see gears turning behind his head. You wait for him to reply, unsure of what else to say.

“Osamu definitely wanted to get out of Hyogo, and he did come here to attend Sendai University.” Kita confirms. “But what you may not know is that he vanished from Hyogo, without a trace save for the letter he left for his parents to never call him again.”

Kita’s brief explanation feels anything but that. It shocks you to your core, freezing your lungs. Any reply you would have had to it was wiped clean, and you really can’t do anything but sit and stare.

Kita nods. His features soften, and you now see a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I understand his actions. I cannot imagine living in a place with constant painful reminders of his loss.

“But he didn’t give any hint of wanting to leave. He never told anyone his plan. One day we woke up and he was just gone. His parents are heartbroken. They had already lost one son, and now another that leaves no open channel of communication, no desire for any of us to reach him. To them, it feels like they’ve lost both sons.

Your heart clenches painfully. You know Kita isn’t accusing Osamu of anything - you can’t hear any blame in his voice. But you can’t help but feel the need to defend your friend for his actions that are, frankly, self-serving.

Kita goes on. “Aran, Suna and myself have an old schoolmate, one of Osamu’s old friends as well. He recently reached out to tell us that his cousin thought he recognized Osamu here at this campus when he came to play Sendai University’s mens’ basketball team. It was pure dumb luck, and honestly not even a hint of a confirmed lead, but we got a chance to find Osamu. We arrived two days ago and have spent all of our time searching every corner of the campus looking for him.”

You still can’t get over the new information you’ve learned about Osamu. Leaving his small town and the only people he knows with no plans on returning. You can’t help but remember little bits of information gleaned from your conversations with Osamu.

He moved to a new city and got a new phone and new phone number. He doesn’t have any friends or family here in Sendai. How unwilling he was to find a therapist and seek help for unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Now with the added information of knowing Osamu left home without a trace, you’re left with a revelation that sends you reeling.

He’s running away.

Osamu is trying to run away from the trauma of losing his brother. He’s doing his very best to shake off any trace of his past and reinvent himself in a new city. Zero contact with friends or family and no support to help him work through a disturbing life event that shouldn’t happen to anyone. And he’s shoving it all down.

Why? Why in the world would anyone want to do that to themselves? And is this what he’s been doing to you now? Running away from you?

A ringing disrupts your disturbing thoughts and you watch Kita bring his phone up to his ear. “Hello?” Whoever is on the other line must tell him some disappointing news because Kita’s face falls again. “Ok, I’ll meet you at the hotel.” He hands up the phone and sighs.

“Aran and Suna lost Osamu. Not surprisingly, since Osamu was always quick, and he knows the area better than we do.” He stands. “I will leave you to your studying. May I borrow a slip of paper and a pen?”

You wordlessly hand over a scrap piece of paper and pen, letting Kita bend down to write on the table. He hands the items back to you and straightens up. You look at the paper and see his full name and phone number written down.

“You have no obligation to, but if Osamu reaches out to you will you please let me know?”

You think of the messages you’ve sent him and the calls you’ve made - all unanswered. But you can’t bring yourself to tell that to Kita now. “I’ll try my best.”

“I greatly appreciate it.” Kita bows and makes to leave. But he hesitates and looks back at you. “We’re not here to drag him back to Hyogo against his will. If he wants to stay here in Sendai he can, he’s an adult. I just want him to know that he has people that care about him, people that miss him.”

You watch Kita pause, standing still. He swallows hard and you see his hands ball into fists. Watching Kita compose himself somehow hurts you the most in this entire interaction you’ve had with him.

When he speaks, his voice is strained. “I don’t think he knows that. I think he believes that he’s truly alone.”

Kita nods and takes his leave, leaving you sitting alone at your table in the café.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: Enter the Hyogo friends! But Osamu doesn't seem too happy to see them....are we gonna find out why? Also a sad Kita is literally the worst thing in the world and it makes me not okay! :')

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef @badkarma-a

[zhvkai]

♣ -- NAME: Zhū Kai ♣ -- BIRTHDAY / AGE / ZODIAC: June 10th / 37 years old / Gemini ♣ -- RESIDENCE: Hearthstone Bay, Astoria ♣ -- BIRTHPLACE: Wuyuan, China ♣ -- GENDER / PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him ♣ -- CAREER: Owner of Gambler’s Delight ♣ -- POSITIVE: Loyal, Intelligent, Confident ♣ -- NEGATIVE: Cynical, Withdrawn, Stubborn

♣ -- Kai focuses on his abstract magic, which comes in the form of creation magic. Specifically, Kai is able to create translucent, white butterflies. He has worked over a long period of time to control and tame his butterflies. It has gotten to the point that he is able to use his butterflies to defend his coven, able to create large swarms of them. While it may seem like a creature unable to do much damage, in the larger quantities, his butterflies can be deadly. However, if Kai likes you, they will simply perch on you. It has been said that the butterflies can either fill you with a feeling of comfort, or dread depending on their master’s opinion of you. Kai loves them and can often be found with a few of them, simply enjoying their company.

♣ -- Kai's mother died when he was very young and his father was rarely around. Because of this, he was often left to fend for himself, living a life of poverty and looking to the streets to find the food he needed to survive. He was treated poorly by the people around him. Kai could only assume it was because of his status and because he had been forced to practically begging to keep himself going. As he got older, it continued and Kai's anger only grew. He was tired of the people around him treating him poorly because he was dealt a bad hand in life. It didn't seem fair. That anger led to many fights, only further ostracising himself.

♣ -- When Kai learned of his magic, it was a comfort. He didn't have anyone who cared for him, but he could make little creatures that did. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Learning of his powers gave him what he needed to keep moving forward, and though it was yet another thing that made people fear and reject him, it was the thing that protected him and gave him purpose. Kai stopped fighting, instead focusing his energy on learning to control his abilities. Eventually however, it became too difficult to stay in his hometown and Kai set his sights for Nova Pangaea.

♣ -- Kai was just as lost when he arrived in Astoria as he had been back home. He had no one and nothing. He was essentially starting from scratch. Angry with the world and unsure of who he could actually trust within it, Kai never thought he would find people who would accept him. But, Nova Pangaea was filled with surprises and eventually, Kai found himself joining the Martyr coven and suddenly his priorities shifted from protecting himself to protecting the family of witches that had taken him in.

♣ -- Kai actually spent a lot of time working once he'd found the coven, determined to be able to support himself in order to support them and after a few years passed, he'd earned enough money to start his business. This was always a dream for Kai. He had lived a life of poverty as a child and he dreamed of never having to fear ending up back in that place. Having his business, he was able to grow his fortune and soon went from barely scraping by to being fairly wealthy, though he rarely spent beyond his needs. His funds were always there in case the people he cared about needed it.

♣ -- Kai is a pretty withdrawn person. He can come across as a little cold and isn't afraid to tell people what he really thinks of them. This is mostly because Kai is a strong believer in honesty. He is however, not the best at airing his feelings. He's always avoided talking about emotions and tends to shut down when people try to make him open up. This is true even with his coven, though they are able to get more out of him than most. Though he avoids his feelings as much as possible, Kai's emotions towards people he cares about tend to be incredibly strong. It is more common for Kai to not care at all, but when he does, he cares and loves fiercely. And he'll never admit it, but he's a hopeless romantic.

♣ -- Kai's favourite thing to do at his casino (when he isn't doing his best to charm patrons into spending their money) is to watch people. He finds it fascinating to see what motivates people, especially after the trials that had motivated him in the past. He strongly believes in running a fair business, genuinely congratulating those who win, and making no moves to remove the customers who are on lucky streaks. It's fun to watch the excitement build in those who are winning. Besides, Kai likes to think that running his business as honestly as he can leads to greater monetary gain in the long run. After all, if his customers enjoy themselves, they'll come back and lady luck is a fickle mistress.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Regular (Part 1.5): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Geto is back for more, but innocence and sincerity isn’t something you’re used to.

word count: 2k

tw: none 

a/n: This is just a brief interlude between part 1 and part 2! It will get steamier in part 2 for sure. 

The squeal of the hinges alerts you to someone’s presence in the dressing room, and you look up from your phone and into the blue eyes of Mrs. Lampton. She’s wearing a shit-eating grin and holding out a wad of cash, obviously very excited to speak to you. “This is for you! VIP room tonight. You know the deal.” Before you can stretch out your hand to warily accept the cash, you raise a brow in question. “Oh, it’s the man from last night.” She answers quickly, a blush fanning across her fair cheeks. 

Geto. 

You stand to take the cash from the manager, noting the thickness of the stack and the way that the bills were pressed smooth - not crumpled like the ones thrown at you in haste. Someone had counted this money and stacked it with you in mind. 

“This is--” 

“It’s more than enough to cover the nightly operating fees for a week,” Mrs. Lampton waves away your observation, disappearing as soon as she finishes speaking. The hunter green two-piece you wore was no longer appropriate, and you take a look at the small offerings of clothing you had at your disposal. He had already seen the red lingerie, and that left you with the only other thing you had bothered to bring: a baby blue silk slip dress. Sliding the flimsy thing over your head, you think about his intentions tonight. Would Geto touch you? Would there be any sign of his arousal beyond the uncomfortable shifting? Or would he perform the “I’m going to save you from this place” act? You didn’t want to be saved from the club, that much you knew. The club had saved you. This environment provided you a well-needed distraction from the constant chaos that was your daytime life. Compared to that, the strip club was absolute heaven, and nothing would change that. Not even the wads of cash you were bound to receive from the mysterious man. 

It’s the main reason why you empathize with your clients: escapism isn’t just a luxury they could afford. It’s one you desperately need, and they just bring the money for you to enjoy the feeling of being someone else for a change. On stage, you were someone everyone looked at with lust and desire. The attention on you there was rarely negative and if you could trade your daytimes for your night times, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

Before you can slip back into your true self, you look at yourself in the mirror and fluff your natural hair. No wigs, that’s one of Geto’s rules. You take one more look at your reflection, decide it’s enough, and slide the thin black robe over yourself before exiting. 

“Come here.” The request is met with immediate obedience, and you feel your legs magnetically pulled to the man sitting cross-legged on the couch, dressed in a dark blue shirt and black slacks. The top three buttons on his shirt are open, letting you catch a glimpse of the strong, pale chest beneath. “You look alluring, as always.” 

Geto extends a hand out to you, and you tenderly take it, sliding your fingers into his large palm. Surprisingly, the pads of his fingertips and palm aren’t rough and calloused. That’s the sign of a man who doesn’t have to work hard for his money, your aunt would say. And you found that to be mostly true. Yuma never had calloused hands, not with his late father’s money cushioning him from any hard labor. 

When Geto pulls you into his lap, you perch yourself on his right leg precariously, letting his right arm wrap around you and settle onto your hip. Instinctively, you lean into his frame, resting your head on his massive shoulder. His smell is different tonight. It’s earthen and full of some essential oil you can’t quite identify, but it suits him. 

“Talk to me,” he murmurs over the soft music. He had the selections changed, you notice, the usual songs sexual and explicit. Now, you were surrounded by jazz, which changed the entire environment of the VIP room. You no longer felt like you would have to dance around sensually for him. Now, you felt like you were in a fancy, upper class yacht club, except in a robe and a night slip with no shoes on. Was he trying to save you? “Tell me about your day.” 

“I’d rather not,” you whisper, thinking of the tension-filled morning and the afternoon you slept away. “Tell me about your day.” Geto rests his cheek against the crown of your head, inhaling deeply before exhaling; his chest rising and falling exaggeratedly. 

“I’d rather not.” A moment of understanding passes between you, but he squeezes your hip suddenly, laughing a little. “Tell me, y/n… you seem well-adjusted. Did you choose this career path or did this career path choose you?” 

“Well…” you think about the question deeply, and choose accordingly. “I chose this.”

“Do you enjoy what you do?” 

“I do,” you breathe, remembering Yuma for a second. “I enjoy it here. Do you enjoy what you do?” When the man doesn’t answer, you lift your head off of his shoulder and look into his onyx eyes. There’s a certain stare in them - not a long stare, but enough to make you wonder - and it isn’t until he blinks that his lips part to answer. 

“I do what I have to in order to survive.” 

“You make it sound like you’re a mobster.” The laugh that resonates in his chest is deep and thoughtful, like he was just considering the prospect of it all. He reaches out a hand to touch your cheek, which you shy away from slightly. It isn’t unusual for a man to attempt to touch you in a more intimate way, but all of this coming from Geto feels too familiar. He clears his throat and drops his hand, looking away from you and at the lamps on the wall. 

“If I said I was, what would you do?” 

“Nothing,” you admit. “There’s not much I could do. Who would I tell?” The thought that this man could actually be a mobster just needing a break sticks a little harder than it should. It would explain the cash, the nice outfits, the need for privacy… 

“No, I don’t associate with the underbelly of society. It’s not my game. Gojo, though…” You frown at the name, and he looks at you with a blank stare. “My bad; my friend from the night before.” 

“Blue eyes?” 

“Yeah,” he begins, looking away. “He brought me here to ease my nerves… I thought a few drinks would do the trick. But here I am.” He gives you a half-shrug, lips turning back up into a smile. That’s when the question you’ve been dying to ask falls out of your mouth without caution.

“Why do you pay more than you have to for... this room?” For me, you want to add, but decide that’s a step too far into personal details. Geto blinks, no doubt sensing your unspoken addition, and tilts his head to the side. “I mean, you could have an escort come to you every single night for the amount you pay for all of this…” You wave your hand around at the furnishings as if to prove your point. “And you could have sex with them.” 

“That’s not what I’m looking for right now.” He replies, and you squint in disbelief, moving off of his leg. 

“You’re telling me you don’t want to have sex.” 

“Is that a question or a statement?” He asks, chuckling a little at your wary expression. 

“Both.”

“Can’t I just get to know a beautiful woman in the privacy I can afford?” 

“You could date a rich woman and take her out to fancy dinn-” 

“That’s a lot of commitment.” Geto interrupts, holding a hand up to cut you off. “I don’t think that’s something I want splashed across every gossip rag.”

“And this is?”

“No one comes here to gossip. The focus is you and your co-workers, and they know what I come here for. It’s not as headline-inducing as taking out the heiress to a billion-dollar company to eat overpriced scallops in a five-star restaurant that pays its workers too little.” He hasn’t raised his voice a single octave, instead looking at you with a soft gaze and planting his hand on his now-abandoned leg. You take in all of the information he’s offered, uncrossing your arms and now standing akimbo, unsure of how to respond. 

Gossip rags… Heiresses… Headlines…?

Geto wasn’t just rich. People had their eyes on him. Why hadn’t Mrs. Lampton warned her? Who else knew about his status in a world that she couldn’t truly occupy? 

“Please,” he begins, stretching his hand out once more. “Sit with me. I enjoy your company.” You take his hand again, and this time he slides you in next to him, your bare leg touching his soft pants. “Now, tell me about the day you wish you had.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Your alarm goes off at exactly seven am. It isn’t ideal, but you know that in order to even get to your aunt’s flower shop on time, you had to give yourself an hour head start. Waking up was hard enough, and with the situation you were facing, it seemed like times would be getting even harder. 

It isn’t until you get into the shower that you recount the details of the last night. 

“I’m going to be away for a few days, but here’s a little something that might warm your hands while I’m gone.” 

The impossible had happened yet again, and the thick stack of twenty dollars bills Geto handed you sat in your safe - untouched, uncirculated, and the seal around them remained unbroken. You had tried to look him up and find out what exactly he did during his day life, but the search results turned up absolutely nothing but an article from four years ago proclaiming the winner of a chess tournament in India named Geto. When you clicked on the article, you couldn’t read it, but the thirteen-year-old champion was absolutely not the man that had lavished you with cash. 

You tried looking up his white-haired friend, Gojo, but found nothing on him as well. Whoever they were, there was not a single gossip rag that published a photo, quote, or mentioned them. 

Because they paid them off, stupid. 

You nod to yourself at the realization, and wash yourself completely before toweling off in the steamy bathroom. You’re in the middle of wondering what kind of people actually paid to have their names taken out of magazines when the door shudders violently under someone’s fist. 

“Fucking hurry up,” one of your housemates yells from the other side, and you gather your things before rushing past the man in the doorway, ducking your head so he couldn’t accost you. But you’re roughly yanked to the side, making you drop your dirty clothes to the floor. Rough, calloused fingers bite into your arm, and you gasp, staring at the unfriendly face of the only male in the house.  “Stop using all of the damn hot water in this house, y/n. I’ve told you that you get only three minutes of hot water, or else you’re paying the entire water bill, got it?” 

“Sorry, Ryo…” you shrink away from the man’s harsh gaze, and he lets go of your arm silently, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. This. This is what you needed saving from. 

Ryo’s girlfriend, Hasia, timidly shuffles into the room and gives you an apologetic look. She always did that, coming behind Ryo to apologize with her face and never her words. But it was almost over. Soon, you’d have enough to move out and be on your own - and if Geto was going to stay, then all of his money would trickle into your savings for rent, utilities, and new furniture. As it stood, you had enough to purchase something halfway decent, and with the rest of the incoming money, you would be able to fix it up to appear quite nice. You just had to time everything right, and keep your new regular coming back for more.

[poptod]

hello! i'd like to make an ahkmenrah x reader request! maybe present-day reader gets teleported back in time to when ahkmenrah was alive and they eventually get to the palace and stuff happens? maybe they tell him about modern life? and maybe reader is unnaturally beautiful to the ancient egyptians because humans evolve to be more attractive as time goes on so a person from our time would be hot shit 4,000 years ago? this is long lmao. thanks!

Notes: god ive always wanted to do this kind of storyline but i was worried about like,, logic and stuff getting in the way of the storyline. anyway! i was so fucking elated to receive this request. i got a bit carried away so apologies! WC: 3.2k

+

Okay. It isn't that bad.

Would you ever see your family again? Probably not, but you weren't ruling the possibility out.

Would you ever get to have sour patch kids again? Probably not. But even during the time you lived in 2020, you had eaten more concentrated sour patch kids flavor than all of the people around you combined.

This little village on the outskirts of ancient Thebes is hardly L.A.––though that's probably a good thing––and is small enough for you to know every inhabitant. Your shop there is small to suit the town, and well known ever since your arrival in this time.

They found you beside the river, thought you to be a gift from the Gods. You were hazy, though––whatever had so forcefully pushed you back in time had made your head spin, making you sick and unbalanced. So, when they asked if you did in fact come from the Gods, you had no way of defending yourself either way. Generally you've been denying it––they think you are a god, and the only way you've convinced them you're not a god is by saying you're a gift from them. It explains the way you look, unnaturally beautiful and alien amongst the more pure genetics of earlier humans.

Your shop is pretty simple. You make portraits from paint, more realistic than anything else that exists, and it only affirms their belief in your god-like status. Fortunately word seems to not have gotten out––the village has remained small, and no one from Thebes has run into you. Every now and then you get unreasonably anxious that a noble will find you and turn you into a slave. It's a worry most people around you have, so you find comfort in the fact that you're not the only one. Still, you're not quite accustomed to such an atmosphere––the thought of nobles and Kings noticing you still sends terrified aches into your stomach.

It's about two weeks in that it gets bad. People start to pass by the village, more than you would've thought, and they're all looking to trade goods, food, and information. The people of the village talk about you––you're something interesting, you can't deny that, but they don't know just how worried you are. Whenever you see someone you don't recognize outside your home, you refuse to come out.

Five days later and there's soldiers in your home, looking over your paintings on their way back to Memphis from conquering the realm of Kush. You hold a deep contempt for them––you don't know all that much about history, but you know how Egyptian soldiers and Pharaohs reigned power over the people of Kush.

The soldiers aren't all that worrying. What really gets your heart pounding is the final man to enter your hut; a man bearing a crown and a long sword, with golden braces around his wrists and a chest plated in green scales. Your fingers dig into the wood of your counter when he notices you. The crown on his head––it's the crown of both upper and lower Egypt.

This is a Royal.

"Where did you learn this skill?" He asks you, eyes trained on one of your bigger drawings. It's just on papyrus––not for sale––and hung on the wall as a display of your talent.

"I spent a little while travelling the world," you answer. Technically, growing up in the modern world was a bit like travelling the world; you got to see the cultures and practices of many, many people. "The rest of it's practice."

"The peasants here, they... they claim you came from the Nile. Is that true?"

"Well... that is where I was found," you say carefully, but you can already tell you've fucked up. The look on his face is indescribable beyond the fact that he's pleased.

"How would you feel coming back to the capital with me?" He offers to you, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward. "I think my father would much like to meet you."

"I – I don't think I'm really cut out for -"

"Nonsense," he dismisses with a smile, taking your hand from its' spot on the wood. "We shall teach you proper writing skills, give you a beautiful home, and the salary isn't horrid either."

You can't just say no. If you do, he's going to ask questions––he's going to get confused, and he's going to get suspicious. No one would turn down an opportunity like this; free schooling, free housing, and much more money for something you already do.

"Well... alright," you say quietly, looking to the home around you that you built with the help of the other villagers.

"Wonderful. My name is Kamun."

He's not a very nice person, you come to find. Or perhaps he's just not your tastes––the soldiers seem to like him well enough, at least the ones who aren't completely subordinate to him, but his attitude towards women and poor people is scathing to say the least. Otherwise he's very amusing, with a good sense of humor and quite generous with his food and wine as long as he gets his fill of it first.

The boat back to Memphis, where the royal family currently stays, is a long ride filled with various entertainments. It's clear these are not soldiers accustomed to rough conditions––the dancing women and flowing beer is enough to tell you that. Instead, you surmise these are faux war-heroes; people adored in their hometown for doing nothing but intimidating others in a foreign country. They try to get cushy with you, soften you up to their words and touches. It doesn't work.

He keeps you close to him. You let him do it, sort of––it's better than telling him no. Better than starting a ruckus. Then again, avoiding a ruckus is what got you here in the first place, standing before the doors of the courtroom where a false God on earth rules the Nile.

"Father, I bring you a gift from Thebes," says Kamun, pushing you forward by the small of your back. You can't bring yourself to meet the Pharoah's eye, so you fall to your knees and bow.

Everyone is staring at you. You don't look normal, and they all know it, and you know it. You could cry from the heat of their eyes on your back.

One of Kamun's soldiers steps forwards, handing the Pharaoh and his wife several of the drawings they'd taken from you. Silence passes as the two scan your work.

"How did you achieve such a mirror of the human face?" The Pharaoh asks in a slow, deep voice that sounds as he looks––old, weathered, wise.

"They came from the Nile," Kamun answers for you, and murmurs take the crowd by storm. You, on the other hand, feel your heartbeat increase in massive increments, speeding your already uneven breath. "A gift from the Gods, the locals said."

"I can't – I am not magic," you rush out, hoping your clarification clears you of any responsibility to the Pharaoh. You know he rules everything––if he says you are to stay here, you have no choice, and you don't like it here. Too many people. "I cannot give you anything, my King."

"I think you're lying," says a voice, its' tone soft and a velvet low. It catches you off guard, brings you to raise your head and meet the eyes of someone you don't know; a young man dressed in gold beside the Pharaoh's throne.

You almost lose your breakfast as your eyes bulge, your mind instantly recognizing him and connecting the dots. You were, by far, not a historian, but you knew a fair amount of Egyptian history––namely a family in the Old Kingdom who was headed by the Pharaoh Merenkahre. The remaining statues and busts of the King and his son are astonishingly accurate, and there can be no doubt in your head.

That being said, there also can't be any reaction on your face. You try your best to reign your expression in.

"I..."

Actually, you do have something to offer now. You know the names––memorized the history, committed each event to memory, and now you can pull their lifestory off from the top of your head. Wouldn't that be valuable to a King; a seer of the future, to predict the rise and fall of the economy and the coming armies. Besides, you can't just say he's wrong. That'd be treasonous to them. So you have to agree you're hiding something, come up with an excuse as to why you hid it, and it proves harder than you thought. You're quickwitted, though––it got you away from the villager's wrath, and it will promote you to noble living now.

You hide a smirk beneath a calm expression as you address the younger prince.

"They gifted me foresight," you say quietly, pretending as though it hurts you to tell the truth, "but told me to never inform others."

"You are in the presence of Ra once more," the Pharaoh reminds you.

"And others," you point out. "I would... it would be better to discuss such matters.. in private."

Detailed information about already-past events is enough to sway him to believe you. The Pharaoh is surprisingly easy to convince, and with a few, meaningless predictions of the future, he gives you housing in his own palace. Kamun looks proud of himself––puffs his chest out in front of his father and earns no compliment. Ire laces his glare as it falls upon his brother, Ahkmen, praised for his ability to see through your obvious lie.

The Pharaoh asks his younger son to guide you to your room. Apparently it's closer to his room than it is to Kamun's, and evening is approaching fast. The walk there, while short, is marked by a conversation composed mainly of Ahkmen's questions and your answers. When the two of you reach your room, he doesn't leave––actually, he follows you in and locks the door.

There's nothing more terrifying than a man with unchecked power, and there is no one watching you.

No fail safe.

You gulp.

"I know you're still not telling the truth," he says, and though it dismisses several of your worries it still begs the question; how did he notice? "Just thought I'd spare you the embarrassment in front of my father, but my generosity ends there. Now I won't hurt you, and I won't tell anyone––I'm just curious."

Oh thank fuck. He's not going to rape you.

"I'm not Egyptian," you blurt out.

"Obviously," he interrupts, but you glare him into raising his hands defensively.

"I'm from the future."

He stares at you. For a minute. You know this because you count it––he just pauses right in his stance, doesn't move, and stares at you for a whole minute like you just told him you're made of gold.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, laughter suddenly wracking his body.

"It's how I know what's going to happen to your family," you say, hoping he'll believe you. Otherwise this handsome, seemingly-nice man is going to think you're insane for the rest of time. "I studied your family for years as a side-hobby, I don't know how to predict the future for anything but you and your father."

His laughing pauses, or lightens at least; enough for him to say, "actually?"

"Yes," you say, completely serious. This seems to gain his interest once more. "You have to help me. I know at some point people are going to ask me questions about other things and I'm not going to have an answer."

"Just do what all our priests do," he says with a chuckle.

"What do they do?"

"Lie," he says. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face from the stupid joke, and when he sees that a shit-eating grin spreads across his own face, delighted he could make you laugh.

"Yes, well... I guess I could do that," you mumble in a laugh.

"There's no need for you to worry. Now that I know the truth, I can help you," he says, offering you something that takes nearly all the anxiety out of your brain. After two days travel with a prince, it feels like it took 50 pounds off your shoulders.

"Thank you, so much," you chuckle in relief.

"Of course. I do have questions though, and I want you to answer them."

"Anything."

These questions of his, they come at all times––almost at a constant rate when he takes you on long walks, which he does often. He passes it off to his father as an interest in your beauty, and it apparently works. This little lie also helps you enormously in avoiding the romantic advances of many of the people you come into contact with. You're still not quite sure how it works, since Egyptians supposedly had a strong sense of patriotism, but you look rare and they idolize it. Every eye that falls upon you sees something beautiful, and you can't understand it.

At least Ahkmen is normal. He doesn't talk about you being beautiful. Ever.

And it kind of makes you sad.

"Would you say people on the whole are happier in the future or in the past?" He asks you, his words surrounded by the warmth of a summer day in Egypt.

Birds chatter loudly in the trees around you, singing in the humid air that marks the mating season for many of them. The flowers that surround you are already familiar––you thought it would take longer for you to commit the shapes and colors to memory, but here you are. Dressed in gold-laced silk and turquoise necklaces.

"I think the happiness of a population is dependent entirely on the circumstances surrounding it," you say. Sometimes your answers relate more to the human condition than the progress of time on the human race; he likes these answers, too, so you tell him exactly what you think. "Six thousand years from now, there are times of great misery. One is even called the Great Depression, but five years before that were some of the most prosperous times my country had ever seen. The same cycle is evident here."

"So.. great misery and great happiness come in waves?" He asks, pace slowing as he tries to understand what you're saying. You pause along the pathway, allowing him space to think.

"It's a pattern, actually. When the economy goes up, it will always come down. Recessions happen right after economical booms. And yes," you say before he can ask, "a time of unease will follow the prosperity of the current years. But it won't be for a time yet."

"Will it happen in my lifetime?"

He's murdered about three years from now. You think you might be able to stop it, but if you do, it'll alter history quite a lot. Either way, he wouldn't live long enough to see the recession the building of the great pyramids caused.

"No," you say. "But I'd prepare for it anyway, if only to keep your citizens safe."

"Of course. You... you are a great scholar," he tells you, resuming the slow walk down the shore of the Nile.

"Oh. Uh, thank you," you mumble as a blush fills your cheeks.

"What did you do in your time?"

"I was an artist, but I spent a lot of time giving lectures on the role of autistic people in ancient Egypt. Autistic people are often timekeepers," you say, and you know he'll figure out what you mean. Autistic isn't a term here, but many timekeepers of these ancient times were autistic, and considered highly by their societies.

"You might be able to give lectures again, if you'd like," he suggests. "People would come from far and wide to hear you speak. And you've got things to say that I know many scholars will find interesting."

"Mmm," you wince, "I kind of want to stay away from altering history too much."

"Oh, yes. My apologies," he says in a softer voice.

"It's alright," you say. "I'm glad you think I would be a good choice for that kind of thing, though."

He chuckles bashfully as he turns to the ground, scuffing his sandals as he walks.

Ahkmen is sweet––much sweeter than any of his family members, and you find yourself appreciating that every time you pass by his room. You pass his door often, always stopping a second to contemplate the tall, wooden doors. He's on the pathway between your room and the library.

Most of the time he's not in his room. Actually, you can usually find him in the library––there or outside in the markets or near the stalls. Today is different; he's been missing all day, and only when you walk the path back to your room do you hear his voice, talking to himself in his bedroom.

"They're bombarded with just such compliments, though. I can't – I can't stand out!"

"Or maybe you should, because you still haven't said a single thing yet and they probably think you're completely uninterested and that's why they aren't noticing you?"

"You and your... logic," Ahkmen spits.

"Come complaining when you kiss them under my advice."

As you attempt to peek through the crack in the door you stumble, knocking your hand against the wood. You barely hesitate before knocking again––cool and collected, smooth to slip into another lie.

"Oh! Hello, um – hi," he says awkwardly, slipping out of the room when he sees you. He quickly closes the door behind him, careful to keep you from seeing the other person in his room, but you can't bring yourself to care about the stranger.

Think of an excuse, why am I here?

"Oh, that's... I like your flower," he comments softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and the flower tucked into your hair. You'd forgotten about it, but raised your hand to touch the petals as you smiled. The perfect excuse

"Thank you. I thought you might like it, so I," you take it out of your hair and grab his hand, holding his palm upwards, "wanted to show you.. um, here."

Setting the flower in his hand, you curl his fingers around its' stem and push his hands back into his chest. He stares at you for a moment, confused by your strange behavior, but accepting of your gift anyway. You know him well enough now––he'd never decline a gift from you.

"A white iris," he tells you in a lofty tone. "A symbol of the dead. Funny it looks so lively on you."

You need to get out of here before your chest combusts.

"I need to go now, but I'll see you this evening, yes?" You ask, stepping instinctively closer. He doesn't back away.

"Of course. And, um," he takes your hands, keeps you where you stand as he slips the flower back behind your ear, "keep it. I want to see it on you at dinner."

He's close to you––close enough that it gets hard to distinguish his breath from your own, when you started holding his hand. When his other came up to your face. When he leans in and kisses your forehead. It's barely there, just barely, but there's no mistaking the soft plush, the affection clear behind gentle, precise movements.

You rush away the second he lets your hands go.

[rinharu-purple]

Emmm 👉👈 can i request Gavin's spring festival date analysis?! Ehem especially when Gavin said "I've waited a long time for today.." 💙

But Of course if you're not busy.. I'll wait patiently.. I just.. love read your analysis 💙 like i can feel your love and dedication for Gavin.. a lot of Gavin stan is very smart and loyal.. just like Gavin itself

Hello nonny and of course you can! Thank you for your lovely ask and reading my posts. It makes me really happy to hear this 💞 I can also double up what you've said, Our birdcop is smart and loyal and I really love being a part of Gavin-standom which includes so many talented writers, artists, analysts and it has @cheri-translates! There are so many great posts from various accounts and one can feel the love, passion and loyalty towards Gavin in all of them! 💫

An analysis on Spring Festival date is so overdue, so it is me who should apologize for not having written this before. I will more than gladly include your request scene, I hope you enjoy it ^_^

MC Testing Waters: Spring Festival Date

At the beginning of the game, MC is a young woman with lots of love in her heart, however without much experience in love. Fortunately this starts to change when she meets LIs as adults.

Spring Festival Date takes place after Firework Date and before the Romantic Date, although the timeline is quite messy, which I will come to by the end of this analysis.

If you look closely, you can see MC checking Gavin's romantic feelings towards her by using this "boyfriend game" and also uses the opportunity to get beyond his hardened exterior and touch his vulnerable side 💗

Spoilers start below this line

This date comes to, because MC lies to her aunt about having a boyfriend to avoid arranged blind dates and even promises to visit her on New Years with her boyfriend. Speculatively it seemed like a solid play, until...the time literally came.

Thinktanking about a way out of this with Kiki and Willow, they weight different options as to tell them she broke up with him, leave the city or call in sick but then the best wingman on earth Minor saves the way and suggests that she just takes a "fake boyfriend" with her, surely enough with Gavin in his mind.

MC goes through her contacts list to search for a suitable candidate, but her heart Whispers her the answer by skipping a beat as her fingertips scroll down to one name.

... Gavin

As such... MC has chosen her player for the game and Gavin's Heart Trial with MC's family commences...

---Press Start---

Creativity Test

Unluckily Gavin actually shows up for this highly important date late, with his phone off! From the storyline he arrives a couple of minutes late to MC’s aunt's place, thus starting the game one point behind. He was late because he was buying presents for the whole family! With the spot on gifts which are well received by the family because they're expensive, imported goods, limited products, cute and thoughtful he makes up for the lost points.

But it's just the first stage and he has 3 more stages to clear, the pressure is slowly rising.

This gray suit has a lovely story behind it, which you can find by the end of the story.

Decision Test

Gavin has passed the creativity test with flying colors, but in the second stage more challenging questions are on the menu. The eldest aunt wants to know Gavin's age, occupation, salary(?!) and possessions(?!). The last two questions are fairly over the line and is a no-no in my country. Asking people about their financial status as well as bragging about it is perceived as rude and insolent, that's why the way Gavin answers these questions skillfully without bragging about his wealth adds just another brick on my Gavin-temple.

Age: 24

Occupation: Police Officer

Salary: Covers the bills

Possessions: A flat in the city and a motorcycle.

In my Prank date analysis, I've mentioned about Gavin's ability to deal with impertinence and also here, he stays friendly, but only answers the questions necessary to get through with the situation. MCs family is checking whether he's wealthy enough to take care of MC (which is sad that in the 21st century that in some countries women need to be financially secured by men). So Gavin just gives them just the right enough of information to pass the test and pass he does.

There is another aspect to his way of answering though. You see, Gavin is an unmaterialistic man. He doesn't care about money or any other meta. He doesn't touch upon the fact that he's coming from a wealthy family, or that he inherits his grandparents house or that he can afford designer dresses, overseas travels or gems without giving a second thought. That shows just how humble Gavin is and I love him for it. What defines him is not his wealth, nor does he allow anyone define him on his financial status. It's his character, the values he stand for, the vision he embodies, the way he treats MC.. Ehm.. And.. His champion body and drop dead gorgeous looks (comes as an extra;))

But the game is far from over, because the family council is now going to challenge him on...

Affinity Test

This is where things get rosy as the family would like to know how they've met and whether they've been together since high school.

Look, Gavin is actually not playing a game, but living the moment. He is well aware of the fact that once he and MC become an official pair, he will be standing on the same spot a year later. He is serious...

So when they ask about their affection, he gives them his genuine answer and confesses his crush on her during high school and says that they've been going out since fall. This dazzles MC, as if she hasn't been dazzled enough lol.

The three glasses of drink he gulps surely has a role in this sincerity and taking three glasses of a drink as a punishment also becomes a tradition for MC and Gavin in the future.

And so, he proudly passes the Affinity Test with flying colors, effortlessly. Only one more stage and he's done it!

Execution Test

Every hero has his moment, when the fight takes a gloomier turn against his favor and the odds don't look good as before when he gets a strong blow, that is when the family hits him with the question "Don't you get alone well with your family?".

This is Gavin's weak spot, his cryptonite, his bleeding wound and MC's family just pressed on it. What makes this scene so heartbreaking is not just the topic itself and we know why it is a sensitive topic for Gavin but also that Gavin actually tries to signal them that this is not his favorite topic. He tells them he doesn't go home for holidays (friendly warning number 1), the aunties pushes by telling him to take some meal with him to which he replies "Thanks, but that's okay. I've been away for a long time" (friendly warning number 2) the family pushes further and as a one last resort he tells them that during college he rarely went there and spent holidays working afterwards (friendly warning number 3). Sadly the auntie than ignorantly ask whether his family doesn't worry about him and now because he's given three fair warning shots which, he downright gives them a brief and resolute answer:

- No.

That's usually the latest where people with common sense stop digging in further. Unfortunately then the auntie asks whether he doesn't get along well with his family to which Gavin no longer responds. This is the perfect way of dealing with such people and Gavin has a very intuitive talent for dealing different people from different mindsets. Give them three friendly and fair warnings, still pushing? Then give them a last chance by one final brief and to the point answer, they choose to ignore the signal? Stop interacting, you can only waste time beyond this point.

The only problem with this situation here, is that these people are not just somebody, Gavin wants to win these people over, so he cannot just ignore them. But also he cannot do it without a timeout, so he goes to grab some wine. (God it makes me so sorry everytime he has to face his family drama or is misjudged. I just wanna hug him bring him hot cocoa, give him a backrub and bring spicy food for him. Luckily he has MC ^_^)

But let's not talk only about about Gavin, because MC is struggling too. And we should recognize her stick up for him with the most cherishing words:

-Auntie, you got it wrong. He is a decent and pure man and has come to my aid many time and in quite dangerous circumstances.

When she comes back however cannot find Gavin, once she does, a heartwarming moment blooms between them.

This scene is very crucial in Gavin and MC's relationship because this is the first time MC sees Gavin tired and flustered. She feels sad for him but also happy for herself, for she feels as though she gets closer to him, thus seeing the real Gavin. By the way she show him her genuine care, Gavins heart melts and kisses the back of her hand as a gesture and so the first intimate moment involving them having a kiss ensues. Furthermore, they show each other their mutual care, which brings them one step closer and this gives Gavin the only courage he needs to tackle the situation.

When our hero gets the courage and the stamina he need from his girl, nothing can stop him now. Having gatherer his strength, Gavin returns to the dinner table:

“I am so happy to be here with you all today. In fact, I haven't felt this atmosphere of family in a long time. I have a very strict father and a brother I seldom see...I don’t even know when I turned into such a loner. Eating alone, sleeping alone, doing everything alone...until I met her. It was a beautiful autumn day. The gingko leaves were floating in the wind. I was also going through a pretty dark time. But she saved me before I hit bottom...It’s she who told me I could live a stronger life. And it’s also she who told me I could live a more tender life. I never felt lonely before, until I met her. I started to get used to star-gazing with her, having dinner with her, spending the New Year’s with her. In the future, I'll give it my all to stay with her, to take good care of her and love her. I wanna make up many times over for all the times I wasn't there”

MC’s heart stopped, aunties eyes teary, the elder Aunt want his actions to back up these words and thus Gavin has a pass from MC's family. Now that he's won the game, it's time to collect his prize.

After they leave MC's aunt's house, our lovebirds walk together in the night full of fireworks and Gavin tells Mc that Minor has mentored him on being the perfect son-in-law, hence he was late. He also asks her what she would do if he didn't show up, to which she says that her intuition says that he won't fail her and he murmurs quietly:

- I've waited a long time for today.

Of course he doesn't repeats himself when MC asks him about what he just said. But that's what kept him going all night long.

He has waited for six whole years to meet her again, to stand by here, take good care of her and love her. Tonight, he could do them all by being her "boyfriend", giving his word to her family and having their blessings. He could see that she also cares a lot for him, worries about him and wants to be there for him. He landed his lips for the first time on her delicate skin and could give her warmth.

He could finally confess his feelings for her and say the genuine things he will only say to her.

So yes, he has waited for a long time for this moment to come and when it came, he made sure to grab it tightly.

----—----—---

Timeline issues:

- The order of the dates in the game doesn't always reflect the real course of events. The grey suit that Gavin wears is actually bought after Romantic Date, which takes place after this date.

-Even though MC plans this whole game to avert blind dates, but she still gets set up later on a blind date by another aunt lol.

Thank you once again for your patience nonny and I hope that the analysis proves to be worthy of your wait 💗

Masterlist

For MC's confession let me take you here

For Gavin and MCs relationship milestones here

For a fun trivia about this date you can click here

[the-bjd-community-confess]

More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

/s

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous 

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous