hntnsshi

[hntnsshi]

Beads of sweat trickled down the nape of your neck. Your muscles felt tense, stomach doing somersaults full of worry as you keep side-glancing the phone laid on top of the coffee table. In front of you, a pair of crimson eyes was boring into said phone which successfully heightened your anxiety even more.

Shadow had his lip on a tight line with a look that screamed ‘what and why are we doing this’ directed at the small rectangular object— the source of your main worries. No words was spoken between the two of you, and it’s not as if he demanded to access your phone right away. Shadow had always respected your privacy despite knowing how weird you had been reacting after being prompted to show your phone to the dark hedgehog. There was no suspicion nor forceful remarks. It was just the two of you and your blasted phone in the middle of the room.

“…you don’t have to do this,” in the midst of the silence, Shadow softly murmured. You could hear the slight strain underneath his voice, “I understand if you have boundaries to keep. You shouldn’t waste your time for something so meaningless,” even when he’s trying to reassure you, deep down you could sense that maybe Shadow was a little bit upset for not gaining enough of your trust after all these years. You had spent enough time with him to catch on the micro gestures Shadow used to express himself at times, and it pained you for being so secretive around him when he had come a long way to finally open up bit by bit towards you.

It’s not like you’re hiding something big, anyway! It’s just—

Inhale, then exhale. You shook your head in disagreement, gaze fixed into Shadow’s with determination as you reached to your phone. Your fingers swiftly tapped against the screen pads before the lock screen transitioned away with a clicking sound. With a gentleness you didn’t expect you have, your free hand clasped onto Shadow’s gloved ones— enjoying the warmth radiating from his palm for a moment before guiding it below your phone. You gave Shadow a nudge as his name escaped past your lips with a certain tenderness to it. The latter lifted his head at your call, eyes wide and uncertain after you let go of the cold metallic object on his hand. Shadow held his breath slightly when his fingers were guided inward to grasp on your phone, your hold firm against his before letting go.

Shadow went silent for a while, “Are you… sure about this?”

Well, you’re not hiding anything suspiciously harmful (?) if you could be honest. Heck— you often yap to Shadow about the weird conversations you had with your friends or family (He would nod in silence, attentively listening despite not knowing the modern terms you occasionally throw here and there. You might get teary with how the guy was trying his best to understand your brain rot slangs by asking questions and memorizing them down for future reference). You also felt comfortable playing your games in front of the brooding guy (he enjoyed the quality time spent with you even in silence), Shadow probably knew what kind of applications you use to spend your time at this point.

So you nodded, encouraging him to go through your phone.

And so Shadow did.

You tried your best not to screech as if you’re insane the moment he flicked the screen open. The tension building inside you spiked high and low in a drastic pace each time his fingers hovered over the gallery app, only to touch something else. Maybe Shadow knew from the way you were fidgeting on the end of your sleeves, or the way you chew on your bottom lip whenever he eyed the unassuming application. Either way, he finally came to the last thing he hadn’t gone through : the cursed phone gallery.

As a chronically online person who had a habit of hyper fixating on what you love, saving TONS of media inside your gallery wasn’t a surprising thing to do. You saved pictures, recorded videos, edited random things to express your hobby no matter how absurd it was— no matter the shape and form, your artistic desire burned brightly as a way to channel your passion in a harmless way.

The same rule also applied to how you convey your feelings to the silent hedgehog who was currently at loss for words.

You didn’t want to bother Shadow with your bottled up affection. You understand he hated people who went too far with his personal space, so it became a norm to tip toe around the male and only initiate physical contact when necessary. Saving Shadow’s pictures in a stalker-ish manner was wrong, but it’s not as if you’re taking any of his pictures secretly when it’s only the two of you! You had Rouge to thank for that (It was a joke at first— a means to have blackmail materials where Rouge would send you Shadow’s candid pictures while they’re on a mission. It became a bad habit where she relished on your joyful squeals eventually).

Yeah, this was it. You sobbed internally, flushing from embarrassment while begging to crawl back into the hole you came from due to the unreadable expression plastered across Shadow’s face. Oh dear, judging by the lack of immediate reaction coming from Shadow, his self-restraint was amazing compared to how you would feel if you were on his shoes. Because let’s be real here,

Who wouldn’t crash out if they saw HUNDREDS of pictures and videos of themselves, on someone ELSE’S phone gallery?

A popular sped-up music you used for an edit of Shadow’s pictures suddenly blasted through the phone speakers. You couldn’t help but wince at the volume, second-hand embarrassment clearly biting you back on the butt. The cheerful track now stuck on a loop since Shadow’s gaze stayed still— hands frozen on place.

And then his eyes met yours. Brows glowered, muzzle scrunched up into a deep scowl to show his irritation and shame.

“… This looks stupid. Why would you even enjoy this kind of thing?”

But the way his cheeks flared with a shade of deep crimson and his bashful look begged to differ.

[hntnsshi]

someone I follow on the bird app just announced they’re starting a very exclusive private fic server because they and a bunch of other people want to talk about how much they love the fics they’re reading, and as an author can I just say that a really great place to talk about a fic you love is in the comments for that fic

I understand that people are trying to create safe spaces, but as the number of comments that I get on my fics dwindles with each passing year, knowing these spaces exist where my fics are being discussed, places that I am excluded from, makes me want to write fic LESS

I mean I guess who cares, right, because if I stop writing, there’s 10,000 other people that will continue…but if you participate in a fic “book club” server and you say nice things there about a fic you loved, maybe copy and paste that into a comment on AO3?

the only thing fanfic writers are asking for in return for hours of hard work is attention. please don’t rob us of the one thing that we hope for when we hit “post”

[hntnsshi]

Oh wow tysm for the likes! Especially after Bucchigiri’s final episode was released I have mixed feelings towards the show :’

Fated

Asamine Matakara was someone who would believe on the idea of fairytales and fantasies being real.

He had idolized at the imagery of a living, breathing Honki people for years after all. Despite the harsh bullies he received, which was a result of holding into this kind of dream with such pure innocence, Matakara wouldn’t change a single thing and continue to hang on to his believes with an unwavering faith even until he grew up. His sparkling green eyes still held the same innocence he had all those years ago.

So it wouldn’t be a surprising thing if someone discovered that he, one of the tops dogs of the Minato Kai gang, was actually a huge hopeless romantic who adored the idea of meeting his fated soulmate in the cheesiest ways possible known to mankind. Ranging from the invisible string theory, higher-self meeting and guiding to encounters, dreaming one’s future soulmate multiple times until their fated reunion. The fantasy of experiencing something similar had successfully turned Matakara’s knees to a pair of wobbly jellies as his cheeks burned a lovely, crimson red. This habit usually happened each time the young man finished reading the stacks of sappy romance novels he had saved on his desk. Every syllables was imprinted to Matakara’s brain, and with the fresh scene of love confessions playing over and over as if he’s rewinding a record, he was eventually left breathless and dazed of said romantic event.

Love, in Matakara’s opinion, was such an beautiful thing to experience.

No one had any knowledge of this small hobby of his, not even Komao and Zabu knew. Matakara unintentionally masked his fixation well, hidden behind his image as one of the strongest delinquent at school. In all honesty, Matakara didn’t mind getting discovered as a sappy dork, but knew better than to share his private life openly to the people around him (even when he’s now a lot stronger than he was back then, stronger to not get beaten to black and blue and left to rot alone). However, if someone were to find out about his view on magical, breath-taking love myths and encounters, Matakara would not back down from defending the view of his love. He jotted down notes, stored scientific journals, and scrolled through countless of threads just to prove how invisible strings which brought and tied two people together eternally existed.

Especially after Matakara managed to stumble upon you one day, gazing up at him full of awe and wonder after he accidentally blurted a romance novel recommendation while you were rummaging desperately on the bookshelves in a bookstore. Your smile, your joyful laugh, your delightful voice as you thanked him for the amazing titles he suggested, and your warmth when the two of were reaching out toward the same book with fingertips slightly touching each other— sending electric tingles that rushed inside his bloodstreams. Suddenly, the knowledge of inhaling oxygen to breathe properly was lost in Matakara’s short-circuited brain.

To be able to meet you was the fate he had long dreamed of.

[hntnsshi]

┏═━ ˚̩̥̩.·:·.•❆•.·:·.˚̩̥̩ ━═┓

Introduction Post

Yana | 18+ | She/her | Leo | INTP

This is mostly my dump writing account, however I'm fine with messages and asks. I would love to be able to talk and do brainrots together!

Tags to navigate through :

Writing Masterlist | OCs Gallery | Miscellaneous

[hntnsshi]

la confession.

summary: you and lucas proust visit a church.

notes: .7 words, MAJOR Lucas route spoilers, heavy on the catholic guilt, mentions/questioning/discussion of god, hints of an unhealthy relationship dynamic

There’s no one in the church when you and Lucas stumble in past midnight. Moonlight gilds the pews in silver, stained glass shining like dappled blood across the pulpit.

You pause at the entrance, because it feels wrong to be here. Sacrilegious. Could God ever forgive the two of you for entering his house without permission? For Lucas, who drips blood across the polished wooden floors as he falls to his knees? He bows his head, ponytail spilling like sunlight across his neck, clasping his hands in a feverish prayer with words you can’t hear. 

You creep closer as he mumbles, footsteps echoing. Lucas, in a sudden fit of mania, had come home and begged you to go to church with him. You could have refused, but the fear in his voice had made you nod your head reluctantly. There was barely enough time to throw on a cloak before he yanked you out the door and down the darkened streets.

“Forgive me. God, forgive me.” That’s the only part of his prayer you hear as you pause behind him. He’s still dressed in black, in the clothes he wears when he goes outside to conduct his activities for Capucine. A holy mission, Lucas would have called it. To you, it was nothing more than murder.

Something hard and bitter sticks in your throat at his words, at his bowed form, like a child begging for forgiveness. He’s ruined your life. He’s ruined the lives of countless others. What would prayer do for those who were dead, and could never come back?

“Do you think God will forgive you, Lucas?” you whisper.

A wild blue eye flashes at you, like the night you found him. Did you go too far? Before you can contemplate whether you should apologize, Lucas grasps the bottom of your cloak. He’s still kneeling as he crushes the fabric in his fingers, his hold paralyzing.

“You’re right,” he croaks. “God can’t. God shouldn’t. But I… what can I do? What else can I do? I… I didn’t ask for this.”

“Then why did you do it?” you murmur.

“Because I had no choice!” His fingers claw at you, like he’s clinging to the edge of a cliff. “Because I had to. Because otherwise Nadia will… Nadia will die.”

“I thought this was a holy mission to you.” Why are you saying these words to him? Maybe because Lucas could force you to stay by his side, but he always clung to you like you were the one who could leave him.

“It… It is,” he says. “It’s…” He bows his head further, burying his face into your calves. “It… It’s…”

“Lucas,” you whisper. “Tell me the truth.”

“I… I don’t want to… hurt anyone. God. God, if those relievers are truly demons, then why do they scream? Why do they bleed so? Even if they… aren’t human… they still have lives. I’m taking their lives. They still remember being human. It hurts. I don’t want to hurt them anymore. I’ve never wanted to hurt them.” His voice is breaking into pieces. It’s so unlike the calm teacher you once knew, the one who always had the right words, who could soothe any rowdy child. 

You slowly lower your hand, placing it lightly on the crown of his head, fingers tangling in his beautiful hair. A benediction. A curse. “So what do you want?”

“I want to stop. I don’t want to kill anyone anymore. I want to stay with Nadia.”

Is he weeping? You can’t tell. What a cruel God Lucas loves. You gently extract your legs from his grip, and he lets you go, arms falling limply at his sides. Kneeling, you pull Lucas to you, sheltering him in your arms, his head pressed to your chest. 

“Please forgive me,” he mumbles, but you don’t know if he’s asking you, his angel, or God. 

You’re wrong, you want to say. God can’t save him. If God could, then why did he let Lucas suffer like this? Maybe you’re the one who really needs to pray. For if Lucas is a sinner, what does that make you, someone who wants to love and forgive him, despite everything he’s done, and all the people he’s hurt?

Your arms tighten around Lucas’s back like a cage. God isn’t here. But you are.

[hntnsshi]

i want him to be one of those leyendecker men

still working on marito tho

[hntnsshi]

Fated

Asamine Matakara was someone who would believe on the idea of fairytales and fantasies being real.

He had idolized at the imagery of a living, breathing Honki people for years after all. Despite the harsh bullies he received, which was a result of holding into this kind of dream with such pure innocence, Matakara wouldn’t change a single thing and continue to hang on to his believes with an unwavering faith even until he grew up. His sparkling green eyes still held the same innocence he had all those years ago.

So it wouldn’t be a surprising thing if someone discovered that he, one of the tops dogs of the Minato Kai gang, was actually a huge hopeless romantic who adored the idea of meeting his fated soulmate in the cheesiest ways possible known to mankind. Ranging from the invisible string theory, higher-self meeting and guiding to encounters, dreaming one’s future soulmate multiple times until their fated reunion. The fantasy of experiencing something similar had successfully turned Matakara’s knees to a pair of wobbly jellies as his cheeks burned a lovely, crimson red. This habit usually happened each time the young man finished reading the stacks of sappy romance novels he had saved on his desk. Every syllables was imprinted to Matakara’s brain, and with the fresh scene of love confessions playing over and over as if he’s rewinding a record, he was eventually left breathless and dazed of said romantic event.

Love, in Matakara’s opinion, was such an beautiful thing to experience.

No one had any knowledge of this small hobby of his, not even Komao and Zabu knew. Matakara unintentionally masked his fixation well, hidden behind his image as one of the strongest delinquent at school. In all honesty, Matakara didn’t mind getting discovered as a sappy dork, but knew better than to share his private life openly to the people around him (even when he’s now a lot stronger than he was back then, stronger to not get beaten to black and blue and left to rot alone). However, if someone were to find out about his view on magical, breath-taking love myths and encounters, Matakara would not back down from defending the view of his love. He jotted down notes, stored scientific journals, and scrolled through countless of threads just to prove how invisible strings which brought and tied two people together eternally existed.

Especially after Matakara managed to stumble upon you one day, gazing up at him full of awe and wonder after he accidentally blurted a romance novel recommendation while you were rummaging desperately on the bookshelves in a bookstore. Your smile, your joyful laugh, your delightful voice as you thanked him for the amazing titles he suggested, and your warmth when the two of were reaching out toward the same book with fingertips slightly touching each other— sending electric tingles that rushed inside his bloodstreams. Suddenly, the knowledge of inhaling oxygen to breathe properly was lost in Matakara’s short-circuited brain.

To be able to meet you was the fate he had long dreamed of.

[hntnsshi]

LYNEY, LYNETTE, FREMINET × YOU, THEIR BELOVED

fluff, slight mentions of stalking (?)

Lyney never repeats same tricks, always coming up with new repertoire every show. Although.. you are an exception, the only person he doesn't mind rehearsing old tricks to. If you ask Lyney to show "that one super cool thingie!!" he'll do it without a second thought. He never thinks twice when it comes to your desires.

And whenever you are feeling down, Lyney is always there for you. If there are tears rolling down your cheeks, the magician pulls a handkerchief out of thin air and whipes it away gently.

"Ma chérie, you can cry as much as needed — I am here for you, but remember: even though you are undesrcibingly beautiful, smile really adorns your face", — somehow Lyney materializes a rainbow rose out of his pocket and presents it to you.

Lynette is always observing, keeping the tiniest details in her mind. Constantly noting minor changes, paying attention to circumstances is what she must do in order to fulfill her duties to the Father. Even though it may be selfish, Lynette mostly watches over you. Your every move, every blink, every sound — you don't want to know what she has found out about your persona. She needs to know everything about you to keep you safe (yes, this includes info such as your favourite color, favourite dessert and clothes you prefer to wear. Trust her!). Lynette is also the first one to take congnizance of changes in you. No need to tell her you've got a new haircut, got hurt or bought new jewellery — she already knows.

Lynette also notes to herself different traits of yours. If you waste time passing some silly quizzes and receive questions such as "how do your friends perceive you?", she appears out of nowhere to think for a few minutes and then gives you a serious, honest answer.

"Lynette, which object am I?"

"Lynette, which lyric fits me the best?"

"Lynette, who am I? Soldier, poet or king?"

Young lady's patience and seriousness during answering all this questions makes you melt.

Freminet's top priority is your well-being. He does everything to lessen your burden, spends days and nights trying to invent mechanisms which decrease the time you spend doing chores.

Too tired to cook? Freminet will most definitely construct some sort of automated pot: put the ingredients inside, and the dish will cook itself.

Lazy to do the laundry? Here, have this brand-new machine he absolutely-did-not-create-just-for-you. If the problems you are facing are common for Teyvat inhabitants due to its level of development, Freminet is going to outpace entire humanity and create 21st-century technologies, not even realizing the impact he'd made.

Because of his overthinking nature, Freminet plans everything 10 steps ahead. He checks the weather forecast everyday just to know if you need an umbrella or sunglasses today. Despite being extremely socially awkward, this precious boy asks if the dish contains foods that may cause your allergic reactions. He overcomes himself for you.

[hntnsshi]

Wow I didn’t expect the likes after I went hiatus tysm for liking the Azul self-indulgent piece of mine 😭😭

[hntnsshi]

Voice

Azul Ashengrotto had always have a peculiar fixation with your voice.

You weren't the one to talk much to begin with in public's eye. You answered with either physical gestures, hums, or grunts most of the time. You did talk at times when needed, but you preferred to shut your mouth if you are not familiar with who you were talking to from what Azul observed. It took you some time to be able to adjust working with the Octavinelle dormitory's students at Mostro Lounge because it was 'awkward' for you to communicate openly.

"It's tiring," you complained one day when Floyd nagged why you didn't really talk much if you weren't using yout phone, "I talk only if I have to, but shouldn't you feel grateful that I actually talk a lot with you guys? I love you afterall~" your laugh afterwards was supposed to be irritating, but Azul couldn't do anything but to get flustered merely out of your teasing (even if he knew that was probably only a joke).

Azul has a pretty light pitched voice. Everyone had praised him for his smooth way of talking. Afterall, he had worked hard to appear as a flawless figure in front of people. His expectation could be labeled as high, so he felt no remorse when he confiscated the Ramshackle dorm while stating that you, the magicless prefect, didn't have any royalty blood nor a melodious voice like how the young mermaid princess had to bargain with for a contract. The Octavinelle head dorm didn't feel any guilt whatsoever at that time. It wasn't his fault, you didn't talk much anyway, so he has no expectation towards the strange newcomer.

(Or in short, he was glad that there was an additional inferior mob character that he could crush under his power once again)

But the great seven really wouldn't going to let that slip by, would they? Azul couldn't remember when he started zoning out on his tasks just to focus his hearing senses on your low murmur when you were doing your assignments. He was left breathless when you lowly chuckled, or when you actually could laugh freely around him. And what the lilac young man loved the most, was when you called his name without any formalities each time the both of you were doing Mostro Lounge's paper works in his VIP room.

You couldn't sing, you stumbled upon your sentences a lot, and your intonation was mostly monotonous. But Azul wondered why his heart pounded each time you whispered in a husky way, presence lingering right beside him while your bodies pressed with each other just so you could reveal the true intents of his customers based from your observations.

Jade once sneered at him, enjoying how desperate he was just because you didn't come to the lounge for three days due to a team project with the two Heartslabyul first years.

"How does it feel to be hopeless once again, Azul?" The eel merman taunted, earning sharp glare from his childhood friend, "-oh? What's with the look? I was asking out of curiousity. No need to be that hostile." The sharp grin he sent was unnerving, but Azul was already used to the teal haired student's antics.

His obsession was getting to the point where desperately, Azul decided that making a deal with Idia for the sake of fulfilling his dreams of getting pampered by your voice would be beneficial for his mental health in the long run— which sounded extremely creepy and illogical if the old Azul were to know his intentions. The woes of a lovesick man.

"... You want me to do WHAT exactly?"

"You heard me loud and clear, Idia," Azul's gloved hand was raised to fix his glasses' position, he gazed right to the flame haired senior that was setting up a board game on the table in front of them (he also saw dices, but he would complain about that later after they had started the game), "I would like to ask for your service. Are you worried because I might not give an exchange you desire in return?"

Idia Shroud nervously bit his lip, "n-no, that wasn't what bothers me the most! I don't care much about payments!" He then pointed questioningly at the lilac haired male, "I was asking why would you ask me to make a synthetic voicebank of the prefect! That- isn't that considered as creepy if you don't have their consent?!"

The bespectacled student frowned, "rude," he remarked shortly, "you do not ask questions about your client's personal reasons."

"Yeah, but making a synthetic voicebank out of someone else's voice and not yourself..." Idia gulped, what's wrong with this guy's head? Why would he need someone else's voicebank for? "What are you going to do, Azul? Making the prefect say 'good morning honey' or 'I love you so much, senpai~' so you can hear it without having to meet them directly?".

The Ignihyde head dorm's question wasn't actually serious. He had only seen something like this in his otome games- especially the psychotic obsession ones. Idia didn't think his junior would admit or agree with his statement- it might be for business stuffs? He didn't want to pry further. He didn't know and he didn't want to know.

But the visible red dust on Azul's pale cheeks was enough to proof his blatant questions was pretty much spot on.

Idia paled. Oh for the great seven's sake, this was getting more awkward than it should had been.

[hntnsshi]

Warmth

Vash woke up with warmth enveloping his bare right hand.

The first thing he felt after slowly gaining consciousness was how stiff his beaten up body felt. Stinging sharp sensation poked on his numb limbs, lingering around the countless blooming black and blue scattered across the sun-kissed skin. A hiss escaped Vash's bruised lips— which was coated with a thin layer of a firm-like textured paste. Could this be a healing balm of sort? The scent of mint and crunched herbs filled the blond's nostrils soothingly. Vash enjoyed it.

Everything felt hazy. Vash's mind was in a trance, dazed and lagging while trying to remember what happened previously that resulted in him passing out on a warm, foreign bed without wearing his iconic red Seeds jacket and gears strapped on the waist.

—Wait. Where were his belongings?

Straight away Vash jolted awake. The man gasped and with widened eyes examined his surroundings, now with full-blown alert. His whole body ached, and Vash could feel the scars screamed in pain at how sudden his movements were. Vash swore he was ready to jump outside the window right there and then,

If not for the fact that his gaze caught your smaller hand laying on top of his rougher ones.

As an independent plant, and a lonesome one who had traveled to the ends of the world for years without any kinds of company, sometimes Vash easily forgot how warm a human's body was compared to an otherwordly existence such as him. The last time someone bravely held his hand was when Rem was still around. His mother figure who would dote on him and his twin brother as she entwined her slender fingers without fear. Lovely, gentle Rem who he lost hundreds of years ago.

And now, once again, that forgotten warmth Vash craved for had blessed him with its comfort in the form of your sleeping form. Hands entangled together with each other on the white sheets, basking under the warmth of the morning sun.

Vash quivered. The corner of his eyes felt a bit damp as he grasped your hand back with a certain lightness on his gentle clasp.

He hoped you could stay like this forever.

[hntnsshi]

More Sebastian Sallow Headcanons

The time period doesn’t really allow for a lot PDA. I feel like Sebastian likes late evening walks and gentle hand touches. Certain things are just private things for him and you. That isn’t to say he doesn’t claim you, everybody in the school knows you’re his.

I don’t feel like Sebastian is much of a hand holder, it’s not that he doesn’t like it but I feel like he really likes you tucked under his arm, pressed up against his side. It’s more protective, makes him feel like he can keep you safe.

Study dates are a thing, Sebastian is a bright boy who clearly likes to read. He loves when the two of you can just sit in the library and read together. Silence is comfortable when it’s with you.

I like the idea of him standing behind you while you sit, his hands on the back of your chair, leaning over so that his chest hits the back of your shoulder as you point out a passage in the book you’ve been reading.

If you sit next to him in classes, he’ll definitely lightly bounce his leg against yours the whole time and will occasionally link pinkies with you.

I feel like Sebastian is either out like a light or isn’t able to sleep at all and there isn’t an in between. Sometimes his mind races and he can’t stop himself from going down rabbit holes and before he knows it, it’s the morning.

While up against poachers or goblins you notice he always is by your side. You know it’s taking a great deal of strength for him not to be in the front, pushing you behind him while he does everything to keep you safe. He respects you and knows that you’re able to handle your own. He just wishes you’d be a little more careful sometimes.

If you come back to hogwarts with cuts and bruises, he’ll take you to the undercroft and patch you up without a word. Anything deeper than a paper cut, he’s taking you to the hospital wing.

He’d never let you go do something dangerous….alone. If you’re about to do something risky and he knows about it, he’s coming with you. He knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to convince you not to go, the best he can do is try his best to help.

[hntnsshi]

MR. AND MRS. ; isagi yoichi > you weren't planning to meet your boyfriend's parents this early on, and especially not alone.

this wasn't at all how you had expected your day to go. when you'd decided to show up to your boyfriend's soccer match to surprise him, you very much did not think you'd run into his parents in the VIP stands.

you didn't recognize them at first- sure, you'd seen pictures and isagi had talked about them often, but the possibility of meeting them not just seemed so far-fetched that it didn't really dawn on you until the match was underway. his mother had yelled out a, 'go, yoichi!' and it had just clicked that oh, you were sitting right next to your boyfriend's parents.

at first, you had decided to pretend that you didn't notice them. they probably didn't know who you were, anyways, so it wasn't like it would be too hard. but now you were hyperaware of their presence. absentmindedly, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and straightened your posture just in case.

you didn't expect them to notice you, and they didn't- not until isagi himself, only a distant figure down on the field, looks over to where both you and his parents were seated. his grin was bright and his eyes twinkling from the goal he'd just scored, and it would almost be funny, the way his eyes almost popped out of their sockets upon seeing you shrinking away from the whooping couple in the stands if you weren't also feeling incredibly stressed over the whole scenario.

his attention is snapped away when a teammate calls his name and leaps on his shoulders with accolades, and your attention is returned to his parents, who are now conversing amongst themselves:

"he just scored a goal!" his mom seemed elated, and his dad returned the energy.

"yeah! he did so good," his father agreed, "he's the best out there."

"he's so fast. like that superhero- the red one with lighting."

"the flash?"

"the flash!"

pursing your lips, you turn your head to the other side to avoid a slight smile at the sheer purity of their conversations. it was no wonder isagi turned out the way he did, you think.

unfortunately for you, though, your movement seemed to have garnered the attention of his mother, who does a double take at you- "wait a minute." and then she says your name.

you blink at her stupidly with a blank expression, trying to quell the swirl of panic and worry surging through your chest, because how did she know your name and why was she talking to you- "hi."

she's grinning and you feel an awkward smile crack your expression as you try to mimic the pleasantry. "you probably don't know me- or us, actually- but we know you! oh, it's so lovely to meet you!"

you'd like to respond in kind, but you feel a bit frozen. his mother takes it as a cue to keep talking: "ah, i don't mean to sound creepy! it's just that isagi's talked so much about you!"

"oh! has he?" your voice is unusually squeaky which is really fucking embarrassing for you, but makes his mother laugh and place a warm hand on your shoulder.

"he has," his father confirms this time, "all the time. we've only seen pictures, but we've been looking forward to meeting you!"

"you.. have?" your mind is racing but somehow blank at the same time, but his parents don't take it to heart- they laugh off your confusion and keep talking.

isagi's parents are some of the friendliest and most welcoming people you think you've ever met- the rest of the event's duration is spent not watching the game, but conversing with them. after you'd gotten over your original stagnance, conversation flowed like water under a bridge. in fact, you keep talking long after the game is over- it's not until isagi yoichi himself comes to greet the both of you in the now-empty stands does it stop.

he comes up behind you, making you jump a little, and he smells like soap meaning he probably showered in the locker room. inadvertently, you lean into his warmth and almost by instinct his hand comes up to your side. you wait for him to say something, but his mom beats you to the chase.

"yoichi," she says like she's scolding a child, but her eyes shimmer with affection, "how could you not introduce us to this lovely, lovely thing earlier?"

"yeah, yoichi," you grin at him, "how could you?"

he's red now, embarrassed and so cute under the scrutiny of his 3 favourite people and he lets out a huff- "i was going to."

he grumbles something and his parents laugh. the conversation winds on, but it's mostly just you and his parents. they leave shortly after, with his mother giving you a tight hug before departing.

when they're out of earshot, isagi lets out a breath. his fingers tap against your waist where his arm was holding tight. "i just met your parents," you say.

"you just met my parents," he repeats. and then he laughs. "and they loved you."

you punch his shoulder lightly. "don't jinx it. maybe they didn't."

he's grinning, now, as he meets your eyes: "nah. i know they did."

"what makes you so sure?"

"because. i love you, and old people always say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree or something."

"you're so cheesy."

he lets out a laugh and pulls you closer to himself, pressing a kiss to your hair. "i'm right, though. they loved you, and i love you."

"thanks. i like your mom better, though."

✄ written for mitsies 3k follower event with the prompt accidentally meeting the parents without him

[⇥ 3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥ 3K EVENT INFO]

[hntnsshi]

☆ [ 𝟯:𝟰𝟱 𝗣𝗠 ] - ,, 𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗶

summary: isagi lends you his windbreaker on a chilly afternoon. warnings: just lots of fluff and isagi being the cutest person alive , not proof read ! word count: 1.2k inspired by @ycalatus's isagi art lolz !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the wind whistles and blows all around you, your hair landing in front of your eyes. you struggle to see through the strands, the swaying trees in front of you marked by the color of hair. the cold is biting, nipping at your cheeks and nose. you shudder, burrowing your face further into your sweater, but it does little to help with the frosty wind.

wrapping your arms around your torso, you hide your hands away in your armpits, hoping they'll warm your fingers back to life. 

in hindsight, you’re the only one at fault for leaving your jacket behind when you left for class. you stared at the weather app, looking at the wind warning and the drop in temperature and decided that you could survive.

clearly, you overestimated yourself.

a shiver runs down your spine and your teeth chatter. the cold is entirely overwhelming—it doesn't help that your hair is in the way and you can barely feel your fingers.

frustration crawls up your throat and it burns like fire, tears prick your eyes. things like this really shouldn't work you up as much as they do, but it's easy to get lost in all the feelings swarming your body.

the bitter chill from the wind, your hair lashing against your near frozen skin. you feel like an idiot for being the only one around without a jacket to keep yourself warm.

home is a fifteen minute walk away and you've already missed your bus. you have no choice but to walk home like this—cold and angry. it's the price you pay for assuming you could make it through this windy weather.

with a lofty sigh, you shift your backpack higher up on your shoulder and start your trek home.

"hey, wait!" a voice calls out and you recognize it before you even see his face. isagi yoichi, the kind boy who sits across from you in english with eyes that rumble like thunder across the deep blue ocean. 

isagi always leans over to ask you how you interpreted a certain passage, the hidden meanings written between the lines. in return, he always had some sort of little candy to gift you, though you insisted that it was hardly necessary. isagi was sweet like that, which made falling for him so easy to do.

you tense up as he gets closer, running to stop a few feet in front you. he's dressed in athletic wear: white basketball shorts and a white t-shirt, a teal windbreaker on top.

"hi yoichi," you breathe out, trying not to give away just how cold you are. another shiver wracks through you, much worse than the last one, and there's no way he didn't notice. 

isagi grins at you, his eyes bunching up into crescent moons as he gives you a boxy smile. the apples of his cheeks are flushed a soft pink, perhaps from running, or from the cold.

"what're you doing at school still?" he asks, titling his head to the side. you rub your hands up and down your arms, sniffling as the wind picks up. 

"i stayed behind to help set up things for the chess club." 

recently, you had gotten permission from the school to start up a chess club at school. right now, it’s still in its beginning phases of trying to recruit members but you hope it'll turn into something bigger soon enough.

isagi seems to light up at the mention of your club, "wait, you're a part of chess club? there's a chess club?"

you nod your head, smiling softly at the sheer joy he seems to radiate. he's such a nerd and it only has you tumbling further down this slippery slope: you and your terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad crush on isagi yoichi.

"let me know when meetings start," he says, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. "i might join—i like chess." 

"yeah, i'll be sure to let you know!" the wind seems to have gotten worse in the short time you've spent talking to isagi, only getting colder, more cruel as it whips and bites at your exposed skin. 

you shiver once again, teeth chattering before you can stop yourself.

isagi notices (much to your chagrin). 

"wait- you must be so cold," he says and you merely laugh. "so cold" doesn't even begin to cover it.

before you can say anything in response, however, he's shrugging off his windbreaker, handing it to you. "here, take it. you need it more than me anyway."

your eyes widen in alarm. "yoichi, i can't take your jacket away from you! won't you get cold?"

it seems like he's not even listening to your protests, taking your hand in his and pushing the jacket into your palm. you ignore the sparks at your fingertips from his touch, the way your heart kicks into overdrive.

"i'm gonna be inside the gym the whole time anyway, i won't need it."

another protest bubbles up your throat but he squashes it with a single reassuring smile, and you take the windbreak from him, shrugging it on. 

it helps—the warmth from this flimsy jacket is all the shield you needed from the merciless wind. you're somewhat drowning in the material, which was already slightly oversized on isagi. you’re not complaining, it’s a cute windbreaker and it's serving its purpose pretty well. 

plus, it smells like his cologne, the scent somewhat faint from being worn down throughout the day. 

shoving your hands deep within its pockets, you mumble behind the high collar, "thank you, yoichi, you're really nice." you fix your gaze on the ground, focused on the shoes digging into the sidewalk. 

isagi stays silent, a somewhat starstruck expression on his face. he's captivated by something you don't really understand, and your skin warms under his blatant stare. 

something sweet and tender and full of love flashes quickly within his deep blue, but he blinks it away as quick as it came. “you look good,” he says, instead of everything that waits to be said, hidden between the lines. 

“oh- “ you sigh out of surprise, not expecting the compliment, or the way it steals every last breath out of your lungs. isagi is none the wiser, eyes flickering from your face, down to the windbreaker hanging off your body. 

his windbreaker. you’re wearing his windbreaker.

“thanks,” you grin, feeling a bit like a record stuck in a loop. isagi makes it hard to talk, or think.

he straightens up then, clearing his throat like he’s just snapped out of some kind of trance. “well, i should- i should get back. you can give the windbreaker back to me whenever!” isagi begins walking away, turning around to wave to you. you watch as he walks backwards, following the curve of the sidewalk. 

you keep waving to him, until he pauses, running up to you once more. 

“actually,” he mutters just under his breath, pulling out his phone, “you should…give me your number. you know, just so it’s easier to get the windbreaker back to me.” isagi avoids your gaze but he holds his phone out to you anyway. 

you take it from him, your fingers brushing his as you type in your number. 

“i have to get home now,” you say as you hand the phone back to him. “thanks again, yoichi. you’re really a lifesaver.”

the wind blows your hair around as you leave, isagi’s windbreaker held tightly around your torso. he watches you as you walk away, heart beating impossibly fast. he’s already thinking of what he’ll text you when he gets home.

maybe, you’ll read between the lines like you do in english and figure him out: isagi yoichi’s terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad crush on you.

isagi is the most boyfriend ever

[hntnsshi]

LATE NIGHT TALKING ; isagi yoichi > addiction is a disease, and isagi is sick with infatuation.

isagi's favourite thing to do is wake up with you. he's always been fond of how you curl against him and try to get him to stay an extra 5 minutes, and how your hands tousle his hair. he loves your voice and how it's wonderfully raspy in the mornings.

unfortunately for him, though, his tight schedule often denies him such mornings. as of late, he's had to rise with the sun and leave you alone to wake up.

by the time he's pulling on his shoes and ready to walk out the apartment doors, you're stumbling out of bed to bid him farewell. this little gesture, of you forcing yourself awake only to press a parting kiss onto his cheek means the world to him-- but isagi can't help but feel a little bit deprived of the wonders of early-morning conversation.

it's one such morning- one where isagi is up and early and unlocking the door to go when you’re just barely conscious as you move to meet him by the exit.

“have a good day, okay?” you hear yourself and almost cringe at how thick your voice is with sleep. “i’ll see you when you get back.”

moving your hands onto his chest, you place a chaste kiss on the apple of his cheek. it leaves his face reddened with bliss.

“i’ll see you, babe!”

and then he’s gone, leaving you alone in the apartment.

a beat of silence passes and you exhale, shuffling over to the kitchen counter to prepare yourself a mug of coffee. a sound breaks the quiet atmosphere- someone’s texted you.

yoichi: can u call me? i miss ur voice:(

you fight the smile rising on your face at his message, instead opting to bite the inside of your cheek as if there was anyone to hide your expression from.

you: babe you just left like a minute ago

yoichi: yeah ik i’m still in the lobby of the building but i wanna talk to u!!!!

your phone rings shortly after you’ve read the text, and you pick it up to hear the voice of your boyfriend, who is oddly chipper considering the early hour.

“yoichi? why are you calling me?”

there’s some shuffling on the other side- you hear isagi greet someone in passing before replying to you: “i missed you!”

“it’s literally been 2 minutes maximum.”

“2 minutes too long.”

your brows furrow. “you’re so gross.”

“and you’re in love with me. what does that make you?”

“that makes me out of your league.”

he laughs and you can’t fight the grin any longer. “maybe you’re right.”

“i am. but really- why are you calling me?”

a door closing can be heard in the other end- you presume that isagi’s entered a car. “i already said. i miss your voice.”

“okay? you heard me talk this morning.”

“yeah, but not long enough! i haven’t been able to talk to you as much in the mornings anymore. so i have to get my fill somehow.”

your heart softens at his statement and you lean against the kitchen counter. the coffee machine pours your drink and the air smells warm and cozy. you wish that it could compare to the feeling of isagi’s arms around you.

“okay,” you relent, “i guess that’s a good enough reason.”

“yeah, i knew that would get you.”

“never mind. i should hang up now.”

some muffled sounds can be heard before isagi replies: “no, no, don’t do that.”

“ask me nicely and i’ll consider it.”

“don’t hang up on me.. please?”

“fine.”

“fine? so you’ll stay?”

“i’ll stay.”

he cheers on the other end and you decide not to tell him that you never had any intention of hanging up the phone.

✄ written for the mitsies 3k event with the prompt “can you call me? i miss your voice.”

[⇥ 3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥ 3K EVENT INFO]

[hntnsshi]

Isagi looks so cute in the bath scene!

[hntnsshi]

May I humbly ask you to imagine Math tutor alhaitham who then becomes your gym buddy (bf) or something 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♂️🧎

math tutors, gyms, and the end of the world

alhaitham x gn!reader

your math tutor’s an asshole, but he’s an asshole with a nice body, so you can at least console yourself by staring at his biceps whenever he opens his mouth and proceeds to say the rudest, most insensitive thing ever. you just wish he’d actually acknowledge your efforts at the gym, which are most definitely not efforts to impress and gain his attention.

comedy. modern au. headcanons. reader being a dumbass. idiots to lovers. oh, oh! i love this idea bless u

It’s not that you’re dumb, but, well… you actually kind of are.

Or, at least, according to Alhaitham you are. Though you’ve long since decided to ignore most everything he says that doesn’t concern math, your grades, or his weekly payment for tutoring you. That’s not to say what comes out of his mouth is rubbish, per se, it’s more that he’s usually so blunt and rude that it’s better for you and everyone involved to simply filter out the things you don’t want to hear.

The fact you were even able to convince him to tutor you was a miracle in itself. Alhaitham’s notorious for doing the bare minimum and nothing more than necessary. He sticks to the agreement to a tee; if you planned to meet up at ten in the morning, he’ll be there sharp without a minute to spare or lose.

“I’m beginning to wonder whether you really value these lessons if you’re going to end up wasting my time like this,” he once told you after you showed up two minutes later than the agreed upon time. Which, fine, he was rude, but you appreciated the fact he sticks to his words. Sort of. You wish he’d be nicer about it though, but alas, the prettiest faces always have to be given the weirdest quirks.

You just have to look past his habits and focus on the tutoring session, which was a difficult task in and of itself because Alhaitham, for better or for worse, is ridiculously attractive. The kind that’ll turn heads and make men question their own sexuality. It’s not so much that you’re attracted to his face, but his muscles? Oh, those were a different subject altogether.

It’s pure, sheer luck that made you cancel your subscription to the gym close to your dorm and start going to the one closer to your university. And what luck it was, imagine your surprise when you opened the gym doors only to come face to face with a pair of tits.

Correction: a pair of tits that you’re very familiar with.

Alhaitham takes one look at you, gazing briefly at the clock, before he tells you straight to your face, “Tutoring sessions are at ten in the morning until two in the afternoon during Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Please refrain from contacting me until then.” He then proceeds to ignore you for the rest of your time on the treadmill.

Something about his words lit a fire inside you. Maybe it’s the way he spoke it, so monotone like those pre-recorded voice overs on your phone, or maybe it’s seeing him lift a hundred and fifty kilograms like it was nothing (you most definitely were not staring at his bulging muscles the entire time), but you wanted to prove him wrong for once and make him talk to you.

You’re not trying to impress him, no, never. So what if you tried lifting weights and doing bench presses and running six kilometers per hour at the treadmill all coincidentally in front of him? As you said, it’s coincidence. And if you happen to wear an extra tight shirt and those shorts that hug your butt and make them look fantastic? It was merely a coincidence. Totally nothing to do with a certain math tutor who’s far too stoic and blunt for his own good.

It’s when you’re lifting weights that he finally caves and approaches you. You try to hide your triumphant smile by biting the inside of your cheeks, but you think that only succeeded in making you look mildly constipated. Alhaitham comes up, sweat dripping off his brow and his white shirt soaked with sweat and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Good lord. He parts his ridiculously perfectly carved lips—

“Your form is wrong. If you keep doing it like that, you’re going to irreparably damage your spinal cord.”

Needless to say, you went home that day full of defeat and shame. That’s not to say you gave up, no, it only made you all the more determined to have him be the one coming up to you for conversations instead of the other way around.

Except, that first instance must have unlocked something in him, because he did begin approaching you first of his own accord—except, he only does it to criticize your form and question whether you can really do something. And you’ll admit you usually let these kinda of things blow past you like water under the bridge, but he’s really getting on your nerves.

“And the controls here are far too—”

“Didn’t you say not to contact you outside of tutoring sessions?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, why are you here now?”

Alhaitham looks at you, blinks, and proceeds to shatter your whole world with a few measly words. The sky has split in half, the ocean is being torn asunder, aliens are invading earth, and everything begins to fall apart before you in slow motion like a poor rendition of the movie 2012.

“I was just expressing my concern. I guess it wasn’t needed after all.”

You stare dumbstruck at his retreating back. His retreating, muscly, sweaty, absolutely ripped back. Maybe it’s the smell of sweat, or maybe it’s the fact that the man who owns that scrumptious back was actually worried for you (albeit he showed it in a strange way), but you realized then and there that maybe your math tutor slash gym enemy slash eye candy isn’t actually so bad.

Call it impulsivity or a raging urge or simply good old fashioned stupidity, but you approached him after you took a shower and asked with the most serious, totally not constipated look you can muster if he’s free to get coffee later.

He looks you dead in the eye, complete with the ominous cheap gym lights behind him to maximize the effect of your bated breaths, and says, “I don’t drink coffee.”

For the second time that day, your entire world collapses beneath your feet like Godzilla accidentally got pickles on his burger, descended upon Teyvat, and decided to make it everyone’s problem. Complete with the nuclear powered breaths and earth shattering roars. Thank fuck it’s not his final form though, because Alhaitham continues from where he left off after running your world through with a sledge hammer.

“I can, however, appreciate a good movie, so you better choose something worthwhile tomorrow.”

He proceeds to take his duffel bag, sidestepping through your motionless form the entire time, and leave without a single glance or inquiry whether his sudden change of plans is okay with you. Which was fine and all because you probably wouldn’t have been able to answer because you’re still reeling from the recent turn of events.

And, wait, did he actually ask you to see the movies? Ugh, fine, you’ve been wanting to see Puss in Boots anyway.

Alhaitham grumbles to you the next day about wanting to watch something else. Nerd that he is, of course he wanted to watch Avatar, but like hell you’re going to sit through three hours of a movie you already watched last month. It’s his fault he didn’t watch it earlier like everyone else.

He does end up enjoying Puss in Boots, much to your surprise, so you offered to watch the first movie with the egg guy with him. Shockingly, he agreed to watch it with you on the condition that you do it at his place because, and you quote, you probably live in filth. Which wasn’t entirely true, per se, but, well, you do have a few dishes left unwashed in the sink and a few clothes strewn about your living room. You agree to his condition, but only because you’re curious what his home is like, not because you agree that you’re a slob, which you are most definitely not.

You were looking forward to his reaction to the ending, but he manages to guess the plot twist with the egg guy by the first thirty minutes of the movie. You’ve never felt so betrayed.