#flute type beat

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Opening Night.

Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, Heavy Dissociation, Obsessive Behavior, Slight Manipulation, and Implied Stalking.

Distantly, you could remember how excited you’d been to be invited to the showing.

You’d opened the invitation at your desk, surrounded by a small group of your more friendly coworkers who’d go on to clap and cheer and promise a round of after-hour drinks after you finished reading out the snippet of text scrolled across the cream-colored cardstock. You weren’t special - a small legion of journalists would be invited to write puff-pieces on all the new models and decide which androids were going to be in fashion next season - but you’d loved Teyvat as long as you could remember, spent more of your free time than you cared to admit doing research on robots you’d never be able to afford, not on a salary like yours. It wasn’t a world-changing, earth-shaking accomplishment, but it made you happy. It was something you wanted, and it was something you’d finally gotten your hands on after years of waiting.

You couldn’t remember when your excitement had started to wane. You were still wide-eyed and slack-jawed when you stepped into the venue, an old opera house restored and decorated to better suit the Fontaine Collection’s high-luxury theming. You hadn’t been able to bite back your smile as you kissed the back of a refitted Focalors’ hand (or, Lady Furina’s hand, as she told you to call her in a tone you could only compare to that of a newly-crowned monarch still drinking in her subjects’ attention), and watched Clorinde’s fencing demonstration with the sort of rapt attention most people would save for famous idols and athletes. Even after you lost your photographer in the crowd, your heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette (the brooding, stoic type of this line, you were sure to note when you next found a minute to yourself) offered you a flute of champagne that you readily accepted, and when a roaming Lyney-droid pulled you to the side and offered to show you magic trick with an irresistible glint in his eye, you didn’t think twice before looping your arm through his and letting him guide you to an all-but abandoned backstage area. You thought you might get something exclusive, something to separate you from the crowd of influencers and tabloids who weren’t afraid to promise features that the approachable beta models only half-confirmed. You thought you’d be safe with a premium-grade android hanging off your arm.

Maybe your excitement didn’t wane at all. It’d been there one moment, then gone the next, replaced with a dark coil of dread and some kind of dizzying, vision-blurring nausea. The sharp corner of the vanity bit harshly into the backs of your thighs, the mirror pressed into your back slowly sapping the warmth from your skin and replacing it with something else, a numbing chill you couldn’t seem to shake. Your clothes had been torn to shreds, left to scatter across the dressing room floor, but Lyney was still fully dressed, fully composed; the palest blush painted across his cheeks and his lips ever so slightly parted but all other signs of arousal, of embarrassment absent. You made a mental note to work that into your article. The new models seem to have a shared sense of unwavering confidence– a stark contrast from their more reserved predecessors from Mondstadt and Sumeru. Maybe you’d be able to get a quote from their handlers, if you ever made it back to the show floor.

You’d have to give Lyney his own section, titled something your boss would have to talk to HR about: Teyvat's New Magician is Good With More Than His Cards. You could only feel half of what he was doing to you, shock dulling your already limited senses, but the fingers drawing loose patterns in your clit was near-overwhelming, the feeling of his synthetic cock splitting you open inescapable, unrelenting. He didn’t need to breathe, to worry about things like soreness or bruising or cramps, to do anything but thrust into you at a pace so erratic, so unyielding that it left little room for you to do anything but lie there and take it. His hips were pushed flat against yours, his tip grinding against something soft and unprotected inside of you and drawing out a ragged gasp, a cracked moan. Out of reflex, your hands shot to his shoulders, nails digging into whatever you could reach, and he let out an airy laugh, leaning closer and encouraging you to hold him tighter, to see if you could tear through the faux-skin Teyvat so often advertised as ‘invincible’. That would make headlines, even if it wasn’t likely to cast you in the best light.

His free hand drifted from your hip to your side to your cheek, his knuckles brushing underneath your chin before he cupped your cheek and pulled you into a deep, lingering kiss. His saliva was flavored, though you couldn’t say what it was supposed to taste like. Cotten candy, maybe – so cloying and sugary, all specifics were lost to the sweetness. It suited him. If you’d been able to use your hands, you would’ve applauded his developers for their attention to detail.

When he pulled back, he was smiling. There was another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to the corner of your jaw. Finally, he settled against your throat – his grin so broad, you could feel his perfect teeth resting against your jugular as he spoke. “They told me I’d be able to find a master tonight. The others aren’t ready yet, but I am. They worked the hardest on me.” He was bragging, transparently and unabashedly. In any other situation, you might’ve thought he was trying to impress you. “I knew it had to be you the moment our eyes met. So cute, so easily impressed – I knew you just had to be mine.”

He seemed to perk up, to catch on something. He pressed the pad of his thumb into your clit, and your entire body jolted. “No, no, that’s not right,” he went on, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to be yours.I keep getting that mixed up.”

Faulty programming? It’d be a scandal if it got out, and moreover, it’d be a massive payout if Teyvat decided they preferred to handle things behind closed doors. You bet they’d done it before. Maybe you’d look into that, later on.

Your back arched violently, another pitchy whine bubbling up from some forgotten cavity of your chest. As if in response, he inhaled sharply, buckling against you in the throes of simulated pleasure. His pace sped up, his teeth latching onto the curve of your neck, but any pain it might’ve caused was lost on you, blurred and distorted by the thick rope of tension pulling taut and snapping in the pit of your stomach. Your climax washed over you in slow, throbbing waves, and Lyney was kind enough to pretend he was lost in the same agonizing bliss, to act like that was the reason he was bucking into you so violently.

To act like he had an excuse to do this to you.

He fucked you through your orgasm, eventually stilling inside of you. With his body slotted against yours, his teeth still buried in your skin, he lingered there, only drawing back once your breathing had started to slow and deepen, once you’d stopped shaking underneath him. Even then, he didn’t let you go, didn’t leave you to cry your eyes out in an empty dressing room. Rather, he pressed a quick, fleeting kiss into your forehead before beaming at you - the light in his eyes so bright, you could almost forget it wasn’t real. “I’ll introduce you to my sister. I’m sure she’ll like you, too.”

Right, his sister, Lynette. You hadn’t seen her yet.

She and her twin brother weren’t supposed to be revealed until the show at the end of the night. You doubted anyone had even thought to power them on, yet.

“She’ll be as happy as I am to know we’ll be leaving with such a lovely master.”

[aayakashii]

routine

Pairing: Kagami Subaru x MC/reader

Tags: SFW. Character analysis, a bit of angst, hurt x comfort (I think), fluff and romance between you and Subaru, over 6k words

Author's note: this is probably the biggest fic I've written lol and I'm kinda proud of how it came out, since it also took me some days to fully flesh it out. I'd appreciate comments if you liked the fic! Comments literally keep every writers alive. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Kabuki Glossary:

Biwa: Japanese short-necked wooden flute traditionally used in narrative storytelling

Geza: the music that plays during kabuki, performed live

Hanamichi: flower path; a long, raised platform, running left or center to the stage through the audience, connecting to the main stage, used to make dramatic entrances and exits

Mie pose: a powerful and emotional pose struck by an actor

Onnagata: actor who acts the role of a young woman 

Sewamono:  a genre of contemporary setting plays in Japanese traditional theatre

Shamisen: three-stringed traditional Japanese musical instrument

Tachiyaku: young adult male roles, the actors who play those roles; most commonly these are hero roles, though not all of them

Takemoto: a specific type of song, it is also the narration device used during a kabuki play. It consists of a chanter/narrator (tayu) and the shamisen players

Subaru had become used to it.

You would come to visit him right after your classes, if you weren’t assigned a mission, and Subaru would welcome you with tea and some obscure sweet he managed to get, just to let you try it. You two would talk, and you would share stories about your friends in the Academy, how your life was before you became cursed, and he would tell his own stories, even if he thought they weren’t nearly as interesting as yours.

It gave him a sense of belonging.

Subaru hadn't had much experience with friendships or any interpersonal relationship at all.

His life was merely the background for his career as an actor. His bare skin was merely the foundational bricks for the red and white makeup that would adorn him once he was out on the stage.

When he was under the spotlight, his monotone voice resounded loudly – louder than the drums, louder than the shamisen, louder than the biwa. Subaru became gigantic under his costume. His movements were sharp and hypnotic, the flow of his kimono as he walked down the hanamichi and the pierce of his gaze turned all heads towards him. He was a genius, a talent like no other, the future of the kabuki theater.

And he did not see himself in any of it.

Here lies the true tragedy of a burned out genius child: to go under insurmountable levels of pressure, only to find that the dreams of your parents were never your own.

Subaru did not want to be under the spotlight, no matter how much the spotlight wanted him and no matter how much others wanted him to be under it.

As he was forced to keep walking the flower path, his chances of living life as a normal kid were gone: he had no friends, no acquaintances, nothing that helped him find out who he was for himself.

So, he had no experience.

But he knew that he could pick out the feeling of belonging somewhere after spending time with you.

Eagerly, he waited for the clock to reach 5PM everyday, knowing that you would come through his door to spend time with him.

Routine was always something he appreciated, anxious as he was. He didn't like surprises, he wanted things to be predictable, to give him even the slightest sense of control over his new life as a student.

Therefore, to know that you would come to visit everyday, at the exact same time, was his comfort – even if the thought of you made his heart skip a beat, although he didn't quite understand why.

Not even standing behind the greatest stages made his heart drum loudly after a while. As the green, red and brown curtains of the stage were pulled, his body went on automatic. The takemoto went through his ears, unnoticed, and the geza became white noise. He moved gracefully, although his mind flew into other planes. As the audience clapped enthusiastically as he stood in his mie pose, Subaru wished he was somewhere else. He felt extremely guilty for not being able to appreciate the hard work of the musicians and the actors, but after he figured out that the passion he thought he had was merely a reflection of his parents’ passion, everything became black, white and gray.

Yet, planning fancy snacks for you made his hands clammy and his heart restless – and it wasn't the most comfortable feeling, however, he didn't hate it. He knew you'd come through with the routine and wash his anxieties away.

However, much to his dismay, his comfort had been ripped off of him for the past three days. His precious routine had been broken and Subaru would be lying if he said he wasn't counting the hours, the minutes and the seconds until it was restored, somehow.

He just had no idea how to fix it.

You had been fiercely avoiding him for three days, ever since the last meeting was cut short, and he blamed himself for hurting you in the worst way he could have ever done it.

Subaru has always had awful self-esteem.

No matter the compliments about his genius, none of them stuck to him. When you despise what you do, being good at it just brings forth more bitterness towards oneself.

Subaru was a rarity in the kabuki world – someone who could represent a captivating tachiyaku or the most elegant onnagata. He could be the hero or the princess, something that most actors could not do. To don the costumes of two genders was the cause of endless praise and awe from the audience and members of his acting house alike – none of which he accepted.

To him, his talent came as second nature. There was no need to hone his skills – they were already there, much like an additional organ he was born with – and he loathed that fact. He loathed how this pushed him towards a world in which he didn't want to participate. 

He truly valued the hard work he was now putting into his studies, something he was creating with his own hands. He could see his own growth and pat himself on the back for it – even if he still had a hard time accepting compliments (he knew the only reason he was the captain of Hotarubi was due to his status, after all. He was just a figurehead).

Subaru’s stigma was an even bigger burden towards his path of bettering himself. 

If he hated being an actor, he hated himself even more for his powers. Much like his talent, he did not ask to be bestowed with such a repugnant stigma. It was the reason why his parents would never touch him, never hold him. He was a walking breach of privacy, a dangerous little thing that could easily become a weapon, if the truth of his stigma was found out. He was untouchable in every way, figuratively and literally.

He truly couldn't understand how Lyca, Zenji, Haku and you were so quick to accept his ugliness. 

“You aren’t disgusting, something like this could never be your fault”, you had said, when he wallowed in self-pity after revealing his secret. But to step out of his cycle of self-hatred was a tough task.

Your visits helped, however. For the first time in his young life, someone saw him as himself and stayed. 

Haku and Zenji were his true friends, but they still saw him through the lens of that one genius kabuki actor. And Lyca… he was alone and desperate.

You, however, had the ghouls of Darkwick Academy wrapped in your little finger and, still, you chose him. Despite his social awkwardness, his anxieties, his anger, his stigma. You chose him whenever it was time to get lunch, when you could be resting, when you could have anyone else. The thought of it made his heart skip a beat again. He was sensing a slight pattern.

Yet, it had been three days, and you were gone. No messages, no visits, no news.

He understood your avoidance despite it all. He had committed the worst sin he could have done to his dearest friend.

He had touched you.

You had come to Hotarubi at your usual time, 5PM, sharp. Your hair was disheveled and a few droplets of water stained the tatami of the tea room as they fell from your face and hands, while you hurriedly took off your shoes.

“I’m so sorry for making a mess, Subaru! I had to run here to arrive on time and ended up forgetting my umbrella… I had to walk under every cover I could find, but I still ended up being sprayed by the rain.” you said, as you stood at the entrance, shaking your body as if you were trying to get rid of the excess water.

Subaru shot up from his spot, his face contorted in worry.

“Oh no, please don’t do that!” he said, as he ran to quickly rummage through the drawers of the room for towels “You always have to use an umbrella when you come to Hotarubi, what if you get a cold?”

You grabbed the towel he gave you, smiling awkwardly.

“I know, I know. I just didn’t want to arrive late. I didn’t want you to get anxious.”

Subaru blinked, face blank, as he was caught off guard by your answer.

“You… you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not that anxious.” 

You laughed, and he felt his breath hitch on his throat.

“Suuure, and I don’t breathe oxygen…” you said jokingly, hanging the towel on a nearby hanger after you finished patting your face and arms dry, giggling as you noticed the way he was pouting slightly. “I’m just playing with you! I’m sorry.”

“No no, I’m sorry about worrying you to the point of you having to hurry…”

You rolled your eyes and raised your hands to put them on his shoulder, quickly stopping yourself before you could actually touch him, resting them on your hips instead.

“Subaru. You don’t have to apologize for something like that. I am doing this because I care about your well-being. You're my friend and I want you to be okay. It’s not something to feel apologetic for. Instead, you can just thank me for being a great friend.” you winked and he immediately looked away from your face, that was too bright for him to stare at.

“O… okay… Thank you.” Subaru murmured, forcing himself to look at you again, from under his lashes, a small smile adorning his features.

“You’re very welcome.” you nodded “Now let’s drink some tea please, I do need something hot to warm myself!”

“That’s true, let’s get you warm so you won’t get a cold, please.”

Soon, time slowed down as you two sat and chatted about everything and nothing at all. You talked about how weird Darkwick's shopkeeper is, how awfully crowded the dining hall is (Subaru avoided it like the plague), how scary Professor Hyde can be sometimes, how loud Kaito and Luca are, how cute are the little cats running around all day…

How funny it is that you two always met for lunch in a place where only romantic couples hung out, you mentioned in passing, almost mumbling to yourself like you didn’t want to be heard.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Subaru asked, already looking apologetic, hearing you despite your low voice.

“No, no” you were quick to dismiss his concern “It’s, um, I don’t know... Doesn’t it make you a little nervous?” you said, laughing sheepishly, a foreign blush warming the tips of your ears, which went unnoticed by him.

“You get nervous when we’re there? We can eat somewhere else, you don't have to stay in a place you dislike just to appease me…” Subaru muttered, frowning “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice that it was making you uncomfortable…”

“No, no, no” you shook your head vigorously “That’s not what I meant at all! I… I don’t think I can explain it to you just yet. I don’t think I’m… ready, or… whatever, I don’t know…” you trailed off, incoherently.

“Ready? I’m sorry, I don't understand.”

“It’s okay” you flashed him a smile and grabbed one of the kimono catalogs that were littering his table, fidgeting with it, mindlessly “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just keep eating there, okay? Promise we’ll keep eating there?”

“But I want to understand what you mean- oh!” Subaru cut himself off as he saw a thick sheet of paper cut your thumb while you flipped it anxiously “Your thumb…”

You looked at the small cut that was letting out a single droplet of blood and shrugged.

“Oh, I didn’t even notice… it’s okay, I’ll put a bandaid over it later. Wait, Subaru? Wait… wait, no!”

The boy didn’t quite register his own movements, as his hand went to grab your bleeding one, gently grasping your pulse with his soft fingers, running his own thumb over your cut, as if his touch could heal you faster. 

His hands were bare.

You inhaled sharply and, instantly, it all flashed into his mind in quick succession. Like a large wave overwhelming an inexperienced swimmer, he was pushed down into the deep waters of those memories, causing him to gasp, breathless.

Subaru was swarmed by visions of himself in every possible situation. He saw how your gaze followed him when you spotted him from a distance in the campus; how you searched for him in the crowd of students during lunch time, on the tranquil balcony in which you two have shared your food together plenty of times before; and how you turned your head around whenever you heard someone mention his name in passing.

He had glimpses of the way his hands moved while making tea; his profile as he smiled gently when he tried explaining your homework to you; and his own eyes softening as he talked about Lyca. In your eyes, he looked magical. Ethereal, even. Someone who deserved to be admired, loved, praised and he knew these were your own emotions being whispered so subtly to him.

Subaru saw himself in a way the mirror had never reflected back to him. He discovered parts of his being that he wasn't able to find out for himself, because they would only come to the surface when he was with you.

In his mind's eye, right then, Subaru laughed, loud and breathless, as he clutched his stomach – all the restraint he built through his lifetime, gone through the window, after you had merely told him some silly joke. The way he brightened with your words, making your heart beat in a terrifying, yet delightful way, made your breath catch on your throat.

And much like a dying man seeing his whole life flash through his eyes, he arrived back to the present and saw himself, staring wide-eyed at his own hand tightly gripping yours.

He blinked, and his consciousness came back to him.

Subaru, like usual, felt incredibly weak after using his stigma, yet he still quickly turned his gaze towards you, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish, unable to say a word.

Your face was beet red and your eyes were blankly staring at your own lap, lips pursed into a thin line and eyebrows furrowed. Your free hand was clenched into a fist, knuckles pale with the force in which you dug your own nails into your palm.

“I…” Subaru murmured, trying his best to weave a coherent thought.

You got up quickly, breaking the hold Subaru had onto your arm, and grabbed your things in a hurry.

“I think- I think I should go.” your voice cracked and you cleared your throat harshly “Thank you so much for the snacks and tea, they were delicious like always” you blurted out, quickly making your way to his door.

“Wait, no, I- I'm sorry, I-” Subaru held his hand out, as if he tried to reach you but you were too far away, oceans of distance between you two.

“There's nothing to apologize for!” You said, way too cheerfully for him to believe you “I just gotta go now. I have… I gotta go. Yeah. See you soon, Subaru.” you stepped out into the rain and soon disappeared into the mist that surrounded Hotarubi, not waiting for whatever he tried to say.

Subaru stared at his own hands. The little droplet of your blood stained his fingertip, and he took a deep, shaky breath.

He had betrayed you. He had seen your innermost memories without your consent and now you were mad at him. He had to apologize. He had to beg for your forgiveness, until you took pity on him and allowed him to be your friend once again. 

Falling into a deeper pit of self-hatred was hard, but he tried to keep it together, for you. He needed to be lucid in order to beg for your pardon once you came back to visit him. He just hoped it would be soon.

But you did not see him soon at all.

“I don't think they're mad at you for seeing their memories, it’s not really like them. But maybe they're embarrassed?” Haku pondered, taking a bite of the mochi Subaru had set out for you out of pure habit.

“No” he shook his head, adamant “They wouldn't simply disappear if it was just that. I don’t believe that. I have done something that made them angry at me. I saw something I definitely shouldn't have seen.”

It was the fifth day of you avoiding Subaru and he was hanging on by the thinnest thread. He was so close to snapping that it was becoming clear to the other Hotarubi students. And so, Haku and Zenji came to intervene.

“Well... I can't really give you my proper opinion if I don't know what you saw.” Haku said bluntly, making Subaru flinch.

“I can't tell you. I would be breaching their trust again. That’s the last thing I need to do right now.”

“You are absolutely correct, my dear friend!” Zenji remarked “However, we can’t possibly figure out the true essence of your situation if you can't tell us the whole entire story! How can we write an ending without knowing the beginning and the middle of the plot?”

“I don’t know…” Subaru murmured, looking more miserable with each second.

Haku sighed loudly, shifting his legs on the seat.

“Subaru. We don't want to gossip. We just want to know the situation better. We are their friends as well, you know?” he smirked “We can help you figure out their emotions. If anything, you might feel better after venting. How’s that phrase? A burden shared…”

“Is a burden halved!” Zenji finished, boisterously.

A pang resounded in Subaru's heart at how his friends were doing their best to help him.

“O…okay. I'll tell you”

After finishing recounting the last day he saw you, Subaru sighed loudly.

“Well?”

After a moment of silence, Zenji exclaimed loudly, startling the other two.

“Oh!! The spring begins!!” he yelled, one hand on his chest as the other went up in the air “How lovely it is to see young buds bloom into perfect flowers!!”

Haku slowly nodded at Zenji’s words and chuckled, rubbing his own face in disbelief while he noticed how absolutely perplexed and confused Subaru still was.

“I see now…”

“What?” the brown-haired boy fidgeted, almost desperate to grab Haku and Zenji and shake them by their shoulders “What's going on?”

The other boys looked at each other, before turning back to him. 

“Subaru, I don’t want to beat around the bush so I’m just gonna say it straight away. They're like… very much in love with you.”

He blinked slowly, as if the words were entering his brain at a snail’s pace.

“What?” was all he managed to utter.

“Yes, my friend! Our lovely flower seems to be completely smitten by you!”

“No” Subaru shook his head “That can't be. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Man, if there’s one thing that makes sense in the world, is what we’re telling you right now” Haku said, while laughing “Specially after everything you said you saw. You just… saw their feelings when they weren't ready to tell you yet, so I bet it feels embarrassing. It's probably eating them alive right now. That’s why they’re not visiting.”

Subaru stared at his own lap, his mind not properly processing the depth of the situation – the word “Love” bouncing in his brain like a lost temari.

“Then…” he whispered, throat hoarse “What should I do now?”

“What do you feel for our little flower, my friend? Do you correspond to their feelings? Do you love them back?” Zenji worded gently, as if he was talking to a scared wild animal.

“Do I love them back…” 

Haku nudged Zenji, motioning for both of them to get up and leave Subaru for the moment.

“Figure that out first. If you do, go after them and tell them you correspond to their feelings. If not, just let them deal with it on their own. Also, if you don’t like them back, don’t ask for them to come visit you again like nothing ever happened. You’d just be rubbing salt on their wounds.”

“How do I figure that out though?” Subaru looked up at the two men as they leisurely walked outside of his room, eyes already brimming with tears.

“You're a smart guy. You'll figure that out by yourself.” Haku winked at him and both him and Zenji slipped away, leaving Subaru at a loss.

Subaru did his due diligence the only way he knew how: by studying. He started reading romance mangas and watching romance movies. It was the type of media his family would never approve of, as they deemed it unworthy of someone refined like him.

Still, despite him thinking that that “forbidden knowledge” would give him all the answers, it still led him nowhere.

He wasn’t like any male lead from these works. He could never run after someone in an airport and yell their name, begging them to stay and forgo all of their life plans. Subaru wasn’t like that. He couldn't run, couldn't yell and could never see himself as more important than anything.

His self-esteem wasn’t nearly as good as what was necessary for him to feel even the slightest kinship towards the strong, bold male leads, who always had something impressive to show – something that made them who they are, even if they had failures in their personalities.

Subaru could say he had his career as a Kabuki actor as something impressive, but again, it wasn’t him. Kabuki was a part of him, yes, but he wanted to shed it like a cocoon.

Despite that, he thought, then, of all the romantic plays he had performed.

He remembered the pain of most love stories, the tragic end of most sewamono plays he performed and he felt the thorns of grief strangle his chest, tightly.

He remembered the star crossed lovers who could never be together, the man who was promised to someone else and couldn’t be with his beloved, and the woman who had her life binded to a place that would never let her be with the one she desired the most.

All of them, lovers who could never be together, so they chose to erase their own light, because being without one another was more painful than dying together.

Subaru thought about not having you in his life for a moment and he figured: maybe not having you was its own type of death. A life without his most beloved friend felt like an empty one. A loveless one.

He paused.

Love. He thought of this word so candidly, it came to his mind without conscious thought – like it was second nature, like it was the obvious conclusion. And so, he decided to allow his thoughts to flow naturally, without pressure or expectations for once.

He thought of the way he searched for your gaze whenever you two were in public, seeking your comfort and approval. 

His heart skipped a beat whenever he glanced at you and you found his eyes, smiling silently at him, as if you two had a secret inside joke. 

His chest swelled with pride whenever you agreed with him (it didn’t matter the subject) and he almost felt like he could burst with it whenever you thanked him for his help studying, or when you praised him, or when you giggled at something he said.

Subaru cared for your tastes and opinions, always asking for your favorite foods, flowers, scents and colors. He made sure to smother you in your favorite things, in order to keep you more comfortable – in order to keep you with him just a little longer everyday.

His thoughts wandered over to you at any given moment and he didn't even notice. He'd question himself whether you'd like something, which sweets he could order for you, which teas he could brew.

Without noticing, he based his life around you and it felt absolutely right when he did that. It felt like belonging somewhere.

Subaru inhaled sharply.

The place in which he belongs is wherever you are, he figured.

Subaru hastily got up and bolted out of his room, out of Hotarubi and into Darkwick's campus, where the rain was pouring heavily, accumulating around the lamp posts and pitter-pattering loudly on the asphalt. His clothes were drenched in mere seconds.

He had forgotten his umbrella.

Subaru banged as loud as he could on the door of the rundown cathedral, trying to blink away the raindrops that stuck to his eyelashes and blurred his vision. He could barely see through the heavy rain anyway, so he missed the lights on the windows flickering on and your shadow hurriedly descending the stairs to walk towards the tall doors.

“Subaru?!” you yelled through the sounds of the storm, his hands still raised in fists, ready to keep on banging at the door. “Oh my goodness, Subaru, you’re drenched!”

You pulled him by his uniform’s sleeve, doing your best to avoid touching him without his consent. ‘Always so thoughtful’ he thought to himself, feeling a little floaty after finally seeing you after a whole week.

With his realization, the dam that was keeping his feelings for you safely contained inside a hidden part of himself was no more.

Subaru acknowledged that he was madly in love with you and he immediately began feeling foolish. His fingers itched to touch you despite his fears and he could look at you for hours on end, drinking every detail and every mannerism.

It was like admitting his love was also letting go of his self control. He felt like something inside him nudged him to be as close to you as possible and it flustered him.

No wonder the movies and mangas said that being in love made people a bit sillier, a bit dumber. But the extent of it was almost ridiculous.

He followed you like a lost puppy when you motioned for him to come with you, and soon you two found yourselves in the kitchen.

“Okay” you let out a loud exhale “This is the warmest place in this dorm. You’re lucky I was already making myself some tea. Also, I’m gonna bring some towels and a change of clothes for you, although I might not have something that’s your size. Geez, Subaru, what were you thinking, walking all the way here in this storm? And this late? Without an umbrella!” you rambled on and on, pouring boiling water into a mug for him to drink and dipping a tea bag inside, carelessly.

Subaru grabbed the warm mug and looked at you, with saddened eyes that felt like an arrow through your heart.

“I missed you.”

You took a long breath as you heard the words coming out of his lips, and stared at him, dumbfounded, like he had suddenly grown a second head. You were about to reply, when Subaru shivered intensely despite the warmth of the kitchen, and you came back to your senses, walking briskly towards your room, in order to fetch the towels, leaving his words unanswered.

Subaru sipped on the tea, suddenly every insecurity bubbling up to the surface while he waited for you to return. What if he totally misunderstood your memories? What if you just loved him as a friend and nothing else, what if Haku and Zenji were totally wrong, what if what if what if-

The sound of your hurried footsteps interrupted the avalanche of thoughts that were most definitely about to bury him under a panic attack. He focused on your silhouette approaching him with a handful of towels and what appeared to be a big nightgown.

“Okay, let's get you near the stove.” You said, beckoning him to sit where you were standing.

As soon as he sat down again, you covered his head with a towel and began drying him up as best as you could. Subaru focused on the feeling of the soft fabric rubbing against his head, and then his neck and his arms.

“I'm gonna turn around and close my eyes. Meanwhile, please try to dry yourself properly and then put on this nightgown I found, okay?” you said, quickly turning around on your feet, not waiting for his input.

Subaru stared at your back for a moment, and began doing as he was told – the thoughts that were plaguing him calming down and silencing on your presence, as if you were a protective charm. His protective charm.

“I'm done” he muttered, hair still dripping, but mostly dry when it came to his whole body.

You sighed, looking at his wet mop of hair and began drying him again, in silence.

“I’m sorry for touching you” Subaru was the one who first broke the comfortable stillness between you two. 

“You know I’m not mad at you because of that, right?” you replied.

“You disappeared” he stares at you, the hurt in his eyes clear as spring water.

“I know, and I'm…” a beat passes by, longer than it actually was “I apologize. I know running away isn't the best approach, but that was all I came up with.”

Subaru stayed silent, as if he was waiting for you to complete your answer.

“It's just… I can imagine what you saw and I wasn't ready to discuss it yet.” you finished, shoulders slumping after you finish drying his hair.

Subaru moved a few strands of his brown hair away from his eyes.

“What do you think I saw?”

You glared at him, cocking an eyebrow at the question that sounded way too much like a tease.

“I don't think you’re in a position to ask questions like that, are you?” you replied, unintentionally snappy.

“Oh, I'm sorry… it truly wasn't my intention”

But it was Subaru that was standing before you, not anyone else. Truthfully, you knew he would never in a million lifetimes think of teasing you on purpose. It was one of the reasons why you ended up so lost in your feelings for him.

You sighed, more in frustration with yourself than anything else.

“I know, I’m just… Look, Subaru… I'm sorry too.”

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows, but in confusion.

“For what?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, avoiding his eyes even though you were standing so close to his sitting form that his whole presence overwhelmed you. 

“For putting this burden on you. I know you saw my… like…”

He waited yet again for you to finish.

“I know you saw my feelings for you.”

Subaru could immediately feel a warmth spread through his chest, cheeks and ears at your words. So he wasn't mistaken? So you liked him back? Truly?

“But I didn't want to burden you with them.”

The smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips suddenly dissolved into nothing.

“B-burden me?”

You pursed your lips, transferring your weight between your legs, back and forth, back and forth, anxiety clear on your face as you thought of how you could tell him what was on your mind.

“I didn't want to ruin what we have, I think? But there's no point in hiding now, right?” You chuckled nervously “I mean, you already know, but I really like you, Subaru. If I ruined our friendship because I got too greedy, I think I wouldn't be able to handle it.”

You looked at him, eyes swirling with emotion and, for a second, Subaru thought this could all be a dream – the only thing that confirmed otherwise being the uncomfortable chill of his body, a sign of a fever approaching.

“Everything you do… every interaction we have, I just get more and more in love” you cringed at how emotional your own words sounded “But I am so scared of your rejection. I think in part I was hoping you'd forget about that incident during my time away from you. I didn’t imagine you’d come after me.”

Subaru's heart beat drummed loudly and fast inside his chest, although he tried to keep it hidden (his face betrayed him, however).

“Did you think of me while you were away?” He managed to mutter.

“Are you kidding me?” you laughed, breathlessly “You were all I thought about this whole week.”

His ears burned red.

“I… thought about you all the time too.” he mumbled, gaze fixed on his own hands.

“What?”

He took a sharp breath and steadied himself, training his eyes on you as he spoke his next words.

“I'm so… I'm so sorry I'm not good with emotions and I'm sorry that it took me a whole week to understand things when I could have relieved you of this earlier but… I figured it out. I finally did.”

“Figured out what?” you tilted your head to the side and his chest warmed once again at the effortlessly cute gesture, giving him even more certainty to keep saying what he had to say.

“I like… no… I love you too.” he watched the way your eyes widened and darted all over his face, as if to search for a sign of truth behind his words.

“I am so blind and afraid of other people that it took me that long” he proceeded “But I know now. I.. I really do love you and I don't want to be away from you any longer. You don't have to stay away anymore. So please.” He got up from his seat and took a small step towards you “Please don't leave me behind like that anymore.”

You shook your head, tears welling up on your eyes, his intensity squeezing your lungs until you thought you could die, breathless, his eyes stealing every ounce of air from you.

“Subaru… Please… please don't tell me you're doing this to appease me.”

He paused.

The thought of you not believing in his words tugged a little at his heartstrings, but he also couldn't blame you. Not when he was so unsure of all of his feelings on a daily basis, towards everyone and everything, and you were the main witness of the way he clumsily stumbled his way into understanding himself.

He was absolutely sure of this, though.

“I'm not.” he said, voice steady as he looked at you.

“Because if you're saying this just because you want to keep me close, I would never be able to forgive you.” You looked away from him, pain over this imaginary scenario clouding your face. It was the time for him to extinguish your anxieties and insecurities for once.

“I'm not.” He took a step closer towards you.

“Please… don’t try to please me if you don't truly feel the same way.” You shut your eyes tightly, throat clenching as you felt the tears threaten to fall.

“Look at me.” He pleaded, and you hesitantly complied, breath hitching on your throat when you noticed how close he was standing to you “I promise you. I'm not.”

Subaru leaned forward, capturing your lips into a quick, chaste kiss, a fire burning on his cheeks at his own boldness.

He was still afraid of his stigma and how it would work with the other parts of his body besides his hands, but once he noticed he was still grounded in reality and not locked in another memory of yours, he got a bit bolder once again, and kissed you for just a little longer, lips melding together just a little more. The softness of your kiss made him sigh and his heartbeat deafened his ears. 

He tentatively rested his forehead on yours once the innocent kiss was broken.

The first thing he noticed was the warmth you radiated while he stood near you. Both of you had beet red faces and your minds were hazy, as if they were made of clouds.

You were the first to come back to reality and giggle at how overwhelmed both of you were with just a little kiss.

Slowly, hesitantly, your hand came up to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your touch like a cat.

“The stigma?” you whispered

“Not activated”

“Good.”

Your other hand came up to run your fingers through his hair, on his nose, on his chin. 

“Do you believe me now?” Subaru asked, wholeheartedly.

“Maybe, I think I'm going to need a few more kisses to fully believe you.” you smiled, teasing him a little bit.

“Really?” He leaned away to look at your eyes, still a bit worried he hadn’t convinced you yet.

“No” you snorted “I'm just joking.”

“Oh I see… sorry I didn't get it right away” he furrowed his brows, apologetically.

“I don't mind getting more kisses though!” you squeezed his shoulders, reassuring.

Subaru chuckled, still a bit flustered at your proximity. Suddenly, however, he scrunched his nose and stepped backwards.

“Subaru?”

“Oh. Oh, I think I'm gonna–” Subaru quickly turned around and sneezed into the towel that still hung on his shoulders “Oh-oh. I think I'm getting a bit sick.” he said, nasally, nose dripping a little bit as he sniffed loudly, back still turned towards you.

You fretted, hovering all around him as you scolded the poor boy.

“See! What did I tell you!” You quickly placed your hand on his forehead and gasped “Let's get you to bed right now, Subaru. You're already feverish!”

You pulled him quickly towards your room, hearing his wheezes as both of you climbed the stairs that led to your quarters.

“But I don't regret what I did” he stifled another sneeze “I needed to talk to you.”

You blushed, opening the door to your room, and glared at him.

“And now you're sick…”

You two climbed the stairs to your lofted bed and you pulled the covers, motioning for him to lay down.

He sat on your bed and looked at you, puppy eyes blinking his allergy tears away.

“But… it kinda looked like a movie thing, didn't it…?” he said, sheepishly.

You pushed him towards your pillows and covered him thoroughly, pouting a bit.

“I think it did…” you stared at the giddy smile that tugged on his lips and sighed, shaking your head.

“I'm going to be down there” you pointed to the bottom of your room “So if you need anything, I'll be here. I'll just grab you some water and medicine and come back quickly, okay?”

You got up, but as you began to leave, Subaru held your hand. His eyes were already droopy, the events of the day getting to him, along with the cold that was quickly racking his body.

“Are you going to start visiting me again?” he asked quietly.

You felt your heart skip a beat as you looked at his sleepy face, the question making you fall even deeper in love with the adorable boy in front of you, if that could be even possible.

You nodded.

“Everyday, for as long as you want me near you.” you said quietly as well.

He shifted on the bed, snuggling closer to the blankets, and closed his eyes, letting sleep wash over him.

“Forever, then.” he mumbled, and, soon afterwards, began snoring softly.

[pickingupmymercedes]

I need you to let me go - Lewis Hamilton

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angsty

wordcount: +2K

a/n: It's not even a slowburn atp, just pure longing and angst. Anyway, do we want a happy ending or just pure heartbreak and right person wrong time trope?

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The air thrummed with a deafening bass beat, the pulsating lights painting the faces in the opulent ballroom with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Y/n felt the familiar unease crawl up her arms. Parties like this were a necessary evil, a way to keep her father's business connections happy. But that night, the forced smiles and meaningless conversations felt unbearable. Her eyes flitting across the room, searching for the familiar dark hair she had seen before, a hint of that easy swagger that always seemed to draw her gaze.

Lewis stood laughing to a corner, his arm casually draped around the waist of a blonde model. Y/n recognized her from his Instagram baddies rounds; someone with a penchant for fame, fast cars and the medal that was having Lewis Hamilton for a weekend.

A sharp annoyance twisted in her stomach, but not jealousy, not exactly. It was more a bitter disappointment, a confirmation of something she'd always knew but had been trying to ignore. Lewis, the man who often made her world tilt on its axis, was just like the others and their list of conquests.

She straightened her back, forcing a smile onto her lips as a group of her father's associates approached. They were a predictable bunch – men with oil money dripping from their tailored suits, wives adorned with enough diamonds to blind those who didn’t know any better.

The conversation followed a familiar script – pleasantries about the weather, questions on her father, on who would take after his business, about her "jet-setting lifestyle." Y/n answered with practiced ease, her mind already a million miles away.

But then a voice cut through the monotonous drone. "Y/n! Looking as radiant as ever."

She turned to see Francis Chrysler, heir to a automobile empire and carrying his family name on that party, much like Y/n. They had known each other since they were kids, Y/n would travel up north to spend summer in the Hamptons with her grandmother and Francis would meet his parents in the US, back from his bordering school in the UK.

Y/n couldn’t deny he was something. Tall, impeccably dressed, and with a smile that could charm the birds from the trees, Francis was exactly the type of man everyone hoped she’d marry – stable, successful, from a “good family” and undeniably the type to merge her family’s fortune to even deeper riches.

But that night, he was also the perfect tool for the job at hand.

"Francis" she replied, a touch of coolness in her voice. "Lovely to see you."

The blonde took her hand, his fingers lingering a beat too long. "I must say, I didn’t expect to see you in the city so early in the year."

" You know me too well. I’d much rather stay in California until it’s warm enough up here" she said, her eyes scanning the room again. Lewis was gone, the blonde model nowhere to be seen.

“But duty called?” Francis focused his gaze on her, trying to get her to look at him before he touched her arm “Something like that” she finally conceded, looking up at him with a warm but emotionless smile.

The rest of the night was a blur of champagne flutes and hollow conversations. Francis, was attentive, even charming in his way. But his attentions only served to highlight the hollowness that echoed inside her.

Lewis's fleeting stares, the way his eyes seemed to see right through her meticulously facade - those were the things she craved, the things she couldn't have.

As the party started to wind down, Y/n found an excuse to slip away. She needed air, needed a moment of sanity away from the suffocating atmosphere and maybe some fresh air from her own mind.

Stepping outside onto the balcony, she took a deep breath of crisp night air. The city lights shimmered below, a glittering reminder of everything she was supposed to aspire. But all she could think about was how her mind and heart could never reach an agreement.

A sudden movement near the edge of the balcony caught her eye. Lewis stood there by himself, leaning against the railing, his face hidden in the shadows. A surge of conflicting emotions coursed her as she noticed he too studied her face – relief, anger, hope.

"Lewis," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Enjoying the company, Y/n?" His voice was a low murmur, his hands gripping a bit too tight against the metal bar.

The question was laced with a playful challenge, a reminder of her earlier display with Francis as they talked and his hand rested a bit too low on her waist. "I manage" she replied, forcing a lightness that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So, I see," he said, his gaze dropping to where the blonde’s hand had been. A flicker of something dark crossed his face before it was quickly masked by a charming smile. "He seems...familiar with you."

"He's harmless" Y/n said dismissively, the lie bitter on her tongue.

"Didn’t look like that" Lewis countered, his voice taking on a serious edge.

They stood there, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. Y/n, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, broke eye contact.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Y/n" Lewis said, his voice laced with amusement.

She scoffed. "Jealousy? Don't flatter yourself, Lewis. You can have your little arm candy."

His amusement vanished, replaced by a coldness that made her shiver. "Is that what he was then? Your arm candy?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Y/n knew she was playing a dangerous game, one that probably wouldn’t end well.

"Why the charade, Y/n?" He took a step closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. "Why the forced smiles?"

"Maybe," she countered, her voice holding steadier than she felt "because I'm tired of the stolen glances and the late-night texts that lead to nothing."

Lewis stared at her; his expression unreadable. She could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, processing her outburst.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Don't tell me you haven't felt it too, Lewis. The frustration, the longing. We dance around each other like moths to a flame, but neither one of us dares to get burned."

He remained silent; his jaw clenched tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What do you want, Y/n? Because honestly, I have no idea anymore. It was never a secret how I feel about you."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Here it was, the question she both dreaded and craved.

The answer, however, remained a tangled mess of emotions.

"I..." she started, then stopped.

There was the comfortable life she'd always known, the endless jet-setting, the security of her family's wealth. The power she carried with her from a very young age. A power her mother had taught her to never take for granted. To never trade for a man.

But then there was Lewis, her very own whirlwind of passion and ambition who challenged everything she thought she knew and wanted. He was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. And she couldn’t stand the possibility of changing a single inch of him, even if he offered.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, a tear rolling down her cheek. A truth so raw and honest it took her by surprise to being able to say out loud.

Lewis reached out, brushing the tear away with his thumb. His touch a reminder of their connection that transcended words. For a moment, they were lost in each other's eyes, a silent peace hanging in the air.

"But you want something" he pressed gently.

She nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. Part of her yearned for a life intertwined with his, a life with the adrenaline he came intertwined with. The other though, craved stability, a future that she could plan about.

"Why are we doing this, Lewis?" she blurted out, finally turning to face him fully again. "This game of… of pretending we don't care."

His jaw clenched briefly, a flicker of frustration mirroring her own. "Because," he began, his voice low and controlled, "because it's easier than this. Easier than admitting what this is."

He gestured vaguely between them; the unspoken truth thick in the air.

"And what exactly is this, then, Lewis?" she challenged, a tremor in her voice finally showing the faltering of her walls.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers, and with each step, the temperature between them seemed to rise, Y/n not backing the slightest.

"It's frustrating, isn't it?" Y/n spoke the words hanging in the air, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's torture," he corrected her, his voice raw with emotion. "Seeing you with someone else..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The implication hanging heavy. Y/n felt his pain echo within her, a bittersweet recognition.

His eyes searched hers, a silent plea hanging between them. He wanted her, she knew that much. But the fear of disrupting their fragile equilibrium, of sacrificing their comfortable charade, held them both captive.

A wave of despair washed over Y/n. They were caught in a never-ending loop, dancing around their desires, afraid to take the leap.

"Then why do we keep doing this?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why do we keep pretending?"

He reached out, his thumb tenderly brushing at her hand.

"Because," he said, his voice barely above a murmur, "because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

"Is it?" she questioned, the tears she had tried so fiercely to keep in finally spilling over. "Because all this yearning is slowly breaking me."

He flinched at her words, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. They stood there, bathed in the city’s lights, the weight of unspoken desires and the reality of their relationship created a suffocating silence between them.

Finally, Y/n took a step back, pulling away from his touch. The physical distance mirroring the emotional chasm that seemed to be growing between them.

“I can keep you in the dark, Lewis. You deserve love. And I can’t give you that. Not right now” The look of raw vulnerability on his face tore at her heart, but she knew she was right. They couldn't keep living in this state of perpetual longing.

"Y/n, I’m not a child, I know what I’m getting myself into" he began, his voice laced with annoyance. But she held up a hand, silencing him.

"I need to go" she choked out, turning away from him before she crumbled completely.

Without another word, she walked back inside, the party lights blurring with the tears that she fought so valiantly to hold in.

Weeks later y/n found herself sneaking into a european f1 paddock late at night on a Friday.

The roar of the engine had long been replaced by the sterile hiss of the garages closing around them. It was a sound she would normally hate, a constant reminder of the world that made Lewis impossible to her.

But that night, it was a chilling and fitting melody to accompany the hollowness in her chest that threaded to swallow her.

They hadn't spoken in almost a month. Not since the party and since their talk, the one that shattered the fragile peace they'd managed to balance.

His silence was a language she knew all too well, a tapestry woven with disappointment and unspoken blame, his and hers.

She watched him from across the dimly lit garage, the harsh overhead lights glinting off at his temple. He looked beautiful, untouchable, a goddamn champion shrouded in the shadows.

It was a sight that would've probably lighten something in her, a reminder of why she kept coming back.

But tonight, all she felt was a cold dread.

"I need your help Lewis.” she whispered, the words a plea and a surrender all at once. The air hanging heavy, thick with the unspoken truth that both refused to accept it.

His eyes flickered to hers, surprise quickly replaced by a steely glint. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as she continued. “I need you to let me go”

Maybe he saw it too, the raw vulnerability etched on her face, the fear that threatened to consume her.

"Because honestly," she murmured, her voice barely above a choked sob, "I haven’t been able to do it on my own”

The words hung in the air, a desperate confession that shattered the carefully constructed walls around her heart. Lewis took a hesitant step towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n?" His voice was rough, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like hope.

She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "Nobody gets me like you" she choked out, the words echoing the hurt in the duty she felt to follow her better judgment instead of her heart.

It was a messy confession, a tangle of contradictions and unspoken desires. But in the quiet of the garage, under the harsh glare of the lights, it felt like the only truth that mattered.

Lewis closed the distance left between them, his arms enveloping her in a warmth that chased away the chill that had settled in her bones since that NYC night.

There were no answers, just the echo of a question hanging in the air, a question that they both knew neither had the answer to. But for those moments, in the fragile space between letting go and holding on, they hung to a sliver of solace, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out.

______________________________________________________________

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[shibaraki]

WE UNFOLD IN POOLS OF GOLD ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, pro hero shouto, publicity stunts (a fake relationship) fluff, flirting, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, pick up lines, confessions, best friends to lovers

wc: 2.3K

“Look, as I’ve said this is only for the event tonight,” Shouto’s manager, Abe Riko, instructed you. Unease had twisted in your stomach as she looked you over with a critical eye, smoothed the wrinkles in your clothing and circled you like a shark. “You don’t have to confirm that you’re in a relationship, you just need to behave like you’re in one. Enough that it’ll create speculation”.

At first you’d been mystified that Shouto agreed to such a thing but it soon became clear the public perception was gnawing at him. To your confusion, people found Shouto to be an enigmatic hero type; they didn’t know how to interact with him and often hesitated in doing so, intimidated by his impassive expression and monotony.

You know Shouto to be the opposite. He is clever in social situations, he’s witty and blunt and he makes you laugh. With that in mind you supposed being their first choice was the least surprising part of the situation. Shoving a beautiful stranger on his arm would only lead to an inevitable stony faced and unfiltered disaster. As one of his best friends your presumed relationship is far more believable given how comfortable you are together.

The issue is you—namely, your feelings for him. Love that knows no boundary. Yearning dug deep in your bones. Hunger that leads you to eventually say yes.

A multitude of anxieties take root in your thoughts, playing out all the possible outcomes, bracing you for the inevitable hurt come morning. Because everything feels right, here. Shouto’s hand sits low on your back like it belongs there. He leans in closer than necessary to listen to you talk, commentates on the lives of the attendants around you; always a smile in his eyes when you laugh at something he says; the brush of his mouth to your temple; the fingers that squeeze at your waist.

“I think we’ve done well,” you say. “Don’t you?”

Rather than needing to stick close to his side as instructed, Shouto has been the one to trail after you, hand in gentle hand while you meander around the venue to greet people. He never enjoyed flashy events but you can tell your presence helps, along with the copious free alcohol.

“Only the tabloids will tell”.

Another waiter passes by, bowing his head low and proffering a tray of champagne flutes. Shouto plucks one up, bringing it to his nose, which wrinkles at the sharp smell. You laugh, distracted as his thumb rubs over your knuckles. “Let me try some”.

Shouto looks at you from the corner of his eye, near electric blue under the lustrous chandeliers hung in the high ceilings. You’ve had a hard time appreciating the architecture when you could simply marvel at him in his grey slim fit suit.

He swipes his tongue across his lip, wincing at the taste before tipping the rim of the glass against your mouth. Your heart beats loud in your ears as you sip the fizzing champagne, sharp and slightly zesty. A flurry of shuttering clicks go off across the room, dwindling into white noise. You’re accustomed to ignoring the reoccurring camera flashes now. “Shit. That’s so dry,” you groused under your breath.

Shouto hums, equal parts amused and congruent with your displeasure. “I wish they would serve something sweet and fruity for once,” he says.

You pointedly refasten your grip around his hand, arm drawn across your midsection to rub his forearm, “I got enough sweet and fruity right here”.

Something ravenous like pride rears in your chest when he tucks his chin and snorts. The movement coaxes a few stray red strands over his forehead. Sucking in a breath, Shouto’s cheeks swell and deflate as he exhales heavily. “Well, according to everybody else I am too boring. That’s why we’re here together”.

“And that’s bullshit. If anything you’re the pretty face making me seem more interesting here,” you say offhandedly, turning your attention to the undulating crowd. The live band takes on a spirited beat as more people gather on the dance floor. Shouto continues to stare in your peripheral vision, coloured in fondness you don’t know what to do with.

“I don’t know if that’s true,” he tells you, a diffident lilt in his voice. “You look incredible tonight”.

There’s a nascent giddiness sprouting in your chest. It feels so distinctly innocent and juvenile, the kind you feel throughout your whole body. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Shouto pauses, flustered, and swallows down another gulp of champagne. “…Abe-san is very good at what she does”.

The reminder that you’re engaging in a publicity stunt is jarring—but his sincerity eases any sting that might’ve come from it. It’s as though he were refreshing his own memory more than he is yours. The thought makes you smile and you take the flute glass from him, swirling the liquid gold inside.

“Shouto. Are you flirting with me?” you tease, holding his gaze as you find the cold impression of his lips on the rim and take a sip. You’ve started burning from the inside out, wiggling fingers entwined, and Shouto knots them together tighter in response.

“Flirting on a date is commonplace,” he returns, pushing the wayward strands back into his carefully styled hair. You soften at the sight. Pinned behind his left ear and combed over to the right, Shouto doesn’t hide his scar the way he used to.

You set the empty champagne glass on a waitress’s tray as she passes, and reach to fix his parting. “Well if we’re allowed to flirt then I can tell you I love your hair like this,” you murmur, fingertips brushing along his temple and down the curve of his right cheek. “It’s hot. And I like seeing more of your face”.

To anyone else the hot and cold hero might appear indifferent. But you feel when the air around him expands, thick with warmth. Shouto is careful to keep it under his skin. “Because you think my face is pretty?” he recalls.

“Now you’re getting it”.

“So then…” Shouto clears his throat, shifting his weight. The grip on your fingers loosens like he expects you’ll let go. “If I’m pretty and you’re cute, together we would be pretty cute”.

The lick of sheer affection that flashes through your chest is overwhelming. “Shouto,” you start, clutching at his hand, thoroughly enjoying the immediate regret written on his face. “Who taught you that?”

“I understand pick up lines just fine,” he mutters, only to sulkily add, “Kaminari may have shared some with me”.

You laugh. It’s all you can do to allay the urge to kiss him. Shouto is dangerous enough as he is—teaching him pick-up lines was the wholesome equivalent of handing him the nuclear codes. The room takes on a gauzy, yellowish tint as the waiters line up to push the balcony doors open, perhaps from all the blood rushing straight to your brain.

The energy amongst the guests takes a palpable turn and people line up to head into the gardens, where a grande marquee has been set up. He tugs your wrist, lightly guiding you to follow the crowd. Expensive garments shimmer under the gloaming moonlight.

You step into the cool night air, warmed by the heat thrumming through Shouto’s left arm. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Ah, he’s going to pout any second now, you think. The drinks must be wearing on him. “Sorry. It was kinda bad,” you tell him, ducking forward to inflict upon him your unfettered smile—because Shouto finds your delight particularly contagious. The tension in his brow releases as he smiles back, nudging you in your side, because he knows exactly what you’re doing. “It wasn’t bad bad—stop sulking. I’ll do you one better”.

“You will?”

The fireworks begin then, snatching his focus; great starbursts of light against the dark sky, lighting up the garden every few seconds. A prismatic glow halos Shouto’s silhouette, returning next in a vivid green, then red. You become hyper aware of your clammy palms and the flecks of fire tousled from his hair in the wind.

Inhibitions softened, tongue loose in your mouth, you steel yourself to pinch delicately at the lapel of his blazer. “Hey. Pretty boy,” you rub the fabric between your thumb and forefinger. “Is this boyfriend material?”

Shouto’s brow lifts in soft surprise and he blinks slowly. You’re struck once again by that fond gaze, how beautifully he wears it, and how he’s close enough that you can see the explosive display reflected in his eyes. As his smile grows the rough tissue above his left cheek crinkles, “Actually I think it’s cotton twill”.

You huff, suitably charmed at his feigned ignorance. Another firework soars into the air with a shrill whistle and the crowd around you murmurs in awe as it booms into a fleeting shower of gold. Neither you nor Shouto bother to glance up, or away from one another.

“You’re wrong, but that’s okay,” you sway further into his space; a small part of you is drawn in by the heat pulsing from his left side, but mostly because you wanted to touch him. “This is boyfriend material—no, husband material,” cheek squished to his shoulder, you peer up and curl your left hand around his bicep. The sleeve is tight against the muscle beneath. “Are you perhaps looking for a life partner?”

A traitorous hiccup jumps in your throat, and Shouto’s mouth thins as he tries not to laugh. There’s a blush staining him pink from his nose to his ears and it very well could be the alcohol, but inwardly you’d like to take credit for the dazed look on his face. Playing along he asks, “What are your qualifications?”

The surroundings and the people fade into obscurity until you forget exactly what it is that led you here. Just you and Shouto in the giddy darkness. “I can make you laugh. I can make you food. I can make you cum,” you hold up a finger for each point made. “I will still love you even when you watch me with that dead fish stare in the morning”.

Shouto’s half lidded expression flickers at that, his mouth jutting into a pout, though there’s no real hurt there. His knuckles brush against your cheek and unfurl to cup your jaw, “But you sleep with your mouth open. It’s cute”.

Turning into his palm you sigh, a little lovestruck, “I’m going to squeeze you like a grape”.

“Please don’t,” the low timbre of his voice wraps around you. “Best friends don’t bully each other,” he falters for a moment, waiting for another technicolour thunder to dwindle. “I suppose they don’t flirt, either”.

“One look at any of your old classmates proves that to be historically untrue, shortcake,” you cover his hand and stroke your thumb across the back of his knuckles. It doesn’t escape you that he has yet to let you go this evening, even going as far as waiting outside the bathrooms for you like some forlorn stray.

“Shortcake,” he mumbles the name as though trying it on for size. Abe-san and his team surely got what they wanted. Shouto smiled more tonight than he has in weeks and you can’t help hoping it’ll never end. “I like when you give me nicknames”.

You’re distantly aware of the lenses pointed in your direction; you conjure possible headlines and imagine the image printed below it, two people looped together in a perfect bow, and somehow it makes you a little braver. “Yeah? Well I like you,” you admit helplessly, clinging to the lapels of his suit. “I have for a long time. More than best friends should, if that wasn’t obvious”.

There’s a brief reprieve as multiple fireworks shriek through the air, splitting into hundreds of strobe stars. You get a clear view of Shouto’s expression as it flowers open before being plunged back into darkness.

“Oh,” his exhale is so loud in the deafening quiet. Hands find your waist and press you close, delaying your growing panic. “Was this our first date?”

“I mean, if you want it to be”.

“I don’t,” he says. Your heart stutters but his fingers keep you in place. “I wanted to take you to the Churaumi aquarium”.

You slump in his arms, cut loose by the relief, and he swallows you in a wintergreen embrace. “Fuck. You could’ve led with that first,” you mutter. His shoulders shake under your cheek.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding anything but.

Hands slip into his jacket. You cinch your arms around his middle as you lean back to get a good look at him. “…You’re seriously going to fly us out to Okinawa for our first date?”

Shouto looks back at you, gentled by the moonlight crowning his head. “Is that a yes?”

The fireworks must’ve finished, you note. A sea of people are surrounding the two of you; they pay you no mind, parting around your bodies with ease, too lost in themselves to notice. Slow, you arch into him, coming chest to chest, fingers locked at the small of his back. A cold sensation nips at your mouth as Shouto shudders an exhale.

“Yes,” you grin and bump your nose to his cheek. “If I kiss you do you think Abe-san will get mad?”

His hand comes to cup your nape, the other massaging idle shapes into your hip. “Probably,” he murmurs, tilting you—and with it, the world—to align your mouths and kiss you anyway.

[woso-dreamzzz]

If Music Be The Food Of Love

Laia Aleixandri x Reader

Summary: Leila can't quite believe that Laia's bringing her to see the orchestra

"Since when were you into music?"

"I've always been into music."

Leila gave her a deadpan stare, one perfect brow raised. "Not classical music. You told me when you moved in that classical music was the bane of your existence and if you found out whoever played it in the locker room, you would come down upon them with a vengeance."

Laia had forgotten that but she awkwardly clear her throat, trying to brush the comment away. "Things can change," She said," Maybe I've matured."

"Matured? Ha!" Leila replied," Sure, and pigs can fly."

"Look, if you don't want to be here then fine! Leave!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Leila held her hands up in defeat. "I never meant that. Thank you for the tickets, really. I was just questioning your newfound love for the orchestra. Sorry if I hit a nerve or something."

Laia ignored her friend as they filed into the auditorium, finding their seats in the box. "Hi," She greeted the other people in the box with familiarity as she took her seat, dragging Leila with her," Hello. It's good to see you."

"Who is your friend, Laia?" A much older woman asked, hands wrapped tightly around the walking stick between her legs.

"This is Leila, we play together. For club and country," Laia said, indicating to Leila who looked incredibly confused as to just how many times Laia, the self-proclaimed classical music hater, had been to see this orchestra.

"A different type of playing than this," The old woman joked.

"Very different to this," Laia agreed.

A hush descended upon the audience as the curtain rose and revealed the orchestra, a group of smartly dressed individuals in all black.

Instantly, Laia's eyes sought you out. She had no problem finding you. She never had a problem finding you - even though you sat closest to the audience in the first chair to the conductor's left. She was drawn to you no matter where you were and could find you in a crowd without a second thought.

Your face was a mask of professionalism but, when your eyes glanced to the box, the barest hint of a smile poked at the corner of your lips.

"Don't tell me that's why we've come," Leila hissed in her ear," Because you've got the hots for a violin girl."

Laia didn't get time to respond (not that she would, lost to the world staring into your eyes despite the distance between you) because the conductor cleared his throat, hand up to begin the concert.

Music of angelic quality filled the room but Laia didn't turn her gaze from you. Your eyes were slightly closed as you counted your beats and rests. Your violin was a snug fit under your chin and your bow moved over your strings with such experience and skill that it was obvious why you were the concertmaster.

Laia didn't stop watching you even when there was a flute solo. You caught her eye several times but mainly stayed focused on your conductor. But, every so often, your head would tilt the slightest bit to the side, towards the box that Laia was sitting in.

Your eyes would meet for a moment and you would instantly be transported back to when you first met her, in a hole in the wall café that served the best coffee in the city.

She had asked to sit at your table as everywhere else was full. You would later learn that it was just an excuse so she could finally pluck up the courage to speak to you.

You welcomed her into your booth and got to talking, about her football matches and your orchestra concerts. She confessed her hatred for all things classical and you invited her round to your place to listen to good classical music - because only people who heard bad classical music ever swore off the genre entirely.

Things had blossomed easily from there and soon she was sat in the family box with your fellow musicians' families, listening to you play with a soft smile and warm arms to welcome you at the end.

You adjusted your positioning as the introduction to your solo began to build. The music swelled before, one by one each of your fellow string sections dropped off. Your first violins accompanied you into the first few notes before stilling, letting you take the lead - your shining moment of the song.

You kept your eyes on Laia as you played, not really needing the conductor when you had played this particular solo many times to perfection.

It was actually the first solo you had ever played in Laia's company when she had demanded to hear your excellence on your third date, curled up in your apartment after a warm meal.

●～●～●～●～

"Are we allowed to be here?" Leila asked in a hushed voice even as she took a flute of champagne from the waiter offering it to her.

"For the last time, yes," Laia said back, sipping her own champagne. It wasn't her alcohol of choice but your events tended to be fancy like this so she had gained an appreciation for it.

Leila let out a breath as she surveyed the room where the afterparty was taking place. "You never told me how much I owe you for the tickets. I mean, a box Laia? How much did this cost?"

"Nothing." Laia was only half paying attention, eyes focussed on each of the doors, trying to guess which one you were going to walk through. "They were free."

"Free?" Leila's voice was steeped in incredulousness. "Have you been donating to the orchestra or something? Those seats were fancy."

"Not quite."

You stepped through the door on her left. Your face held a single-minded purpose as you walked across the room. You took a glass of champagne on instinct, not bothering to look at the waiter as you joined Laia and Leila.

"Hi," You said.

"Hi," Laia said back.

"Hi," You said again.

"Hello."

You broke your gaze from Laia and turned it to her companion. You smiled. "You must be Leila, it's so good to meet you. I'm y/n." You held out your hand.

She took it and nodded knowingly. "Violin girl."

You giggled, taking a sip of champagne. "That's not a name I'm quite accustomed to. Usually, it's just the concertmaster."

Leila grinned. "I'll pretend that I know what that means."

"It means that she's second in command," Laia said quickly. She placed her champagne flute off to the side and wrapped an arm securely around your waist. "I'm very proud."

"I'm glad you could come," You said to Leila sincerely," It's nice to finally meet one of Laia's friends."

Leila looked between the two of you suspiciously, taking in Laia's arm and the way you leaned into her grip, practically laying your head on her shoulder.

"I take it I have you to thank for the box tickets."

Your cheeks coloured. "I get up to four free box tickets for every performance. I told Laia she could bring whoever she wanted."

"And is Laia a constant audience member for you?"

"Always." You pressed a kiss against her cheek. "Laia's been coming to shows ever since I made her fall in love with classical music again."

"Laia? Into classical music?" Leila laughed," You must be some persuader."

"I like to think it was my kisses that really sealed the deal."

Leila roared with laughter but Laia didn't care.

She dipped her head down to meet your lips. You tasted exactly like usual, a mix of fancy champagne and the chewing gum you always used before a performance.

You kissed her back just as sweetly.

"So," Leila said, wiggling her eyebrows," I'm getting the sense here that you two are an item."

"What gave it away? The kissing?" You asked.

Leila shrugged and Laia already knew she was going to regret introducing her friend to you. "And the eye fucking every time she looked at you on stage."

[slavic-roots-western-mind]

Chinese musical instruments pt. 1

I was inspired by my research into the different types of Chinese opera, so I decided to write about the chinese musical instruments.

Usually, traditional chinese instruments are grouped into 8 categories, 八音 (bā yīn): metal, bamboo, wood, stone, silk, clay, gourd and skin so I'll try to group them accordingly.

Metal 金 (Jīn)

Bo 钹 (bó) This is a percussion type of cymbal, with the size varying on the subtype. This instrument is also used in some chinese operas, which makes it all the more interesting to hear.

Bianzhong 编钟 (biānzhōng) This is a set of bronze chime bells, arranged in a specific order with each bell having it's own two special pitches which are usually determined by the bell size. The structure is especially interesting, as all the bells are hung from a frame (typically wooden) from which they're played. Other countries also have similar instruments, such as Japan, Vietnam and Korea although their names vary and they may have their own specific features.

Luo 锣 (luó) Luo is actually a general name for a gong, which varies in size and pitch depending on its type. Depending on the size, luo can either be hung on a frame or if it's small enough it can be played in hand.

Yunluo 云锣 (yúnluó) Like the luo, these are also gongs, named cloud gongs. There are 10 small gongs in a frame with the same size but different thickness so that each gongs pitch would vary. There is a more modern version, which has over 20 gongs and is much larger in size.

Suona 唢呐 (suǒnà) The Suona is a double-reeded trumpet, with reed meaning a thin strip of material. As Suona is classified as a metal instrument, it's made from metal with the reed attached to it. It's actual origin is quite interesting, as some sources place the Suona all the way to the Jin dynasty (266-420), whereas some consider Suona's origin to be from outside of China.

Bamboo 竹 (Zhú)

Dizi 笛子(dízi) The Dizi is a Chinese flute, which has quite a lot of varieties, such as 梆笛 (Bāngdí). This flute is especially interesting as it's used in Chinese opera, Chinese folk music and also in Chinese orchestra. Depending on the region, different bamboo is used to create this instrument - Purple bamboo in the north and white in the southern regions, although other material can also be used, even jade.

Xiao 箫 (xiāo) This is a vertical flute, orginating from the Qiang people in ancient China. The material is usually bamboo, with black and purple bamboo considered to be the best type. There are also quite a few variations, such as the 北箫 (Běixiāo), 琴箫 (Qínxiāo) and 南箫 (Nánxiāo).

Paixiao 排箫 (páixiāo) The Paixiao is a type of a panflute, which has a noticeable difference from the western type, as the pipe holes are created via an angled cut or a notch.

Bili 筚篥 (bìlì) / 管 (guǎn) This is a double-reed pipe, which has a few names. Guan appears to be a general name for woodwind instruments, so if looking for this specific instrument, it should be searched using Bili. This instrument can be traced back to the Zhou dynasty, where it was used as a military instrument. Later it became a popular court and ritual instrument, but eventually lost it's court popularity. Instead, it's quite popular in folk music and in Peking Opera, especially for military scenes.

Xindi 新笛 (xīndí) The Xindi is a more modern type of Dizi (the name literally means a new flute), which first appeared in the 20th century. The xindi differentiates itself from the original dizi by it's additional 5 holes, allowing for lower tones which makes it quite important for the Chinese orchestra.

Wood 木 (Mù)

Muyu 木鱼 (mùyú) This is a wooden fish-shaped woodblock which is hit to create a beat during rituals, most commonly during Buddhist ceremonies, Muyu's name literally means a wooden fish, as it's origin stories are associated with fish, with one story claiming that a fish helped a monk but in turn asked him for a favour, which the monk promised to do but forgot. The fish became angry and splashed him into the water. The monk survived, but his notes were all ruined, which is why he made a wooden statue of the fish and beat it.

Yu 敔 (yǔ) On the topic of animals, this is a tiger-shaped hollow box with toothed edges on its back. Why a tiger? It may be because the tiger had a powerful association with strength and power, although I have yet to find a source confirming my theory.

Zhu 柷 (zhù) This is a wooden box that has an open middle, which is played by using a wooden stick to hit the inner bottom. This instrument is very rarely used nowadays, with the majority of Zhus being in museums and temples, but apparently they still remain in use in a few temples for ceremonies.

Paiban 拍板 (pāibǎn) The Paiban is clapper made of wooden or bamboo flat pieces. When it's played together with a drum, this combination is called a Guban 鼓板 (gǔbǎn), which is used quite often in various different music genres, such as Peking Opera, Yue Opera, Kunqu Opera and others.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.22

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

If you thought it was suffocating to be the center of a room of attention it was ten times worse being the center of Natasha Romanoff’s attention. And yet, you can’t tear your eyes away from hers. Why was she looking at you? 

You feel more than see the glares all the men send your way as she saunters over to you and leans on the bar in front of you. The proximity- Gods you were going to pass out for real this time. Would she catch you? She had quick enough reflexes for it.

There’s a scent that floods your senses that must be hers and it makes your head spin for the second time that night. You’d only gotten here twenty minutes ago. 

You should say something. Anything would be nice instead of you staring at her like a starstruck child. Come on Y/n-

“Why do they have you back here making the drinks?” Did that sound like an insult? Oh god it did, didn’t it? You were dead. You accidentally insulted The Black Widow and now you would get flipped over a table and no one would bat an eye. At least you got to die after meeting her. Goodbye, world.

You slowly exhale and subconsciously lean away from her as you stare at the ceiling. Hypnotic eye contact is sufficiently broken as your heart pounds a million beats per minute. Maybe this was how she killed you. Just by looking at you.

To your surprise, there’s a playful smirk on her face when you finally muster enough courage to look back at her. Something in you skips a beat. 

“Maybe it’s because I’m good at it” Her eyes track your face before she stands up straight and turns around, grabbing two bottles from behind her once again. You watch as she expertly moves through the motions of making a drink. It’s different from the one she made herself, this one has some type of syrup and fresh fruit shaken into it. When she’s done she pulls a glass from under the bar and pours the drink effortlessly into it, adding a little umbrella that you take a little too much delight in receiving. 

She crosses her arms, once again letting her body lean against the cool material of the bartop.

You don’t hesitate to pick up the drink. You’d probably drink poison if she gave it to you. As you take a sip she adamantly watches your reaction. This whole interaction feels strangely intimate and you have to wonder if this is how everyone feels when they meet her. The rest of the party was long gone from your mind.

The flavors from the drink danced on your tongue and you were pleasantly surprised at how little alcohol you could taste. You were a little scared after seeing the labels on the bottles she’d used for her own drink but this was genuinely delicious. 

Before you can tell her it’s good another man calls out to her. Her attention is sufficiently pulled away from you as she goes to give the man and his two girl friends beers. You sip your drink as you watch them interact but you feel your heart tighten when you see her giving a similar flirtatious look to the two women.

Ah. you understand now. She was just doing her job keeping the guests entertained. Stark parties had a high reputation, after all, they couldn’t have you leaving feeling unsatisfied with your visit. You carefully observed the way Natasha watched their body language, their eyes. Reading what made them react most. The same way she’d done to you. It was all an act.

You want to feel hurt but realistically what were you expecting? That Natasha would choose you? She was here talking to you and everyone else out of obligation not because she wanted to. You turn around and look for your friend, spotting her laughing as she sips a flute of champagne they were passing around on trays. You should’ve just grabbed one of those. Even if it didn’t taste as good as your drink. Hand-made for you. By Natasha Romanoff.

When you turn back around you almost jump out of your skin at the sight of said woman right in front of you. She seems proud that she spooked you and her little self-satisfied smirk painted with deep red lipstick is hard to look away from.

“So?” The raspy sound of her voice is a familiar sound from all of the interviews you used to watch of her. You tilt your head as you try to comprehend what she meant ‘So….what?’

“Am I good at it?” Realization dawns on you as you process the fact that she was referring to your earlier conversation

‘Why do they have you back here?’

‘Maybe it’s because I’m good at it’

Your first urge is to tease her, as it is with everyone you meet. You want to scrunch up your nose and tell her she should stick to fighting crime and then let a playful smile overtake your face but if you’re honest you’re a little too intimidated to even attempt such a joke.

Instead, you nod your head. Your spirits were a little deflated but that wasn’t going to stop you from having fun and meeting your literal hero. 

“Any chance you’ll give me the recipe?” Something about knowing her flirtation was just an act made you a little bolder as you attempted your own flirtatious approach.

Her eyes fill with a challenging light and you can’t help but think it’s the same look she gives her sparring partners. You suppose their fates ended up a little more bruised than yours was going to “I suppose I could be persuaded” 

Oh, so you were really doing this. Okay.

“Are you like this with every girl you meet?” You take the liberty to lean forward an inch, tilting your head and adapting the same look in your eyes. Even if it wasn’t authentic, flirting with Natasha was more fun and exciting than anything else going on at this party.

Laying it on thick, she leans in so she’s only a few inches away from your face. “Only the pretty ones” If the proximity didn’t already have you blushing her words certainly did. You could probably chalk it up to the alcohol but you both know that would be a lie.

“How Suave of you, Miss Romanoff” She waves you off

“Natasha is fine” You're more than willing to accept her permission to use her first name “and you are?” 

“Y/n. Y/n, Y/l/n.” You offer her a smile but she stills. In a way you’ve never seen a super spy freeze before. (Not that you’ve been in the company of many but movies are a great source)

Something in her eyes changes when she looks at you. Her eyes drink in your face once again but there’s something different about it this time. It’s slower, her gaze lingers as it traces and drags through your features. What was with this reaction? Maybe you had the same name as an ex of hers…

When her eyes meet yours again it’s like she’s seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you, not just giving you sultry looks for fun or obligation. Natasha Romanoff was looking at you like you meant something to her.

Your phone dings with a notification and you look down to see your friend messaging you to come join her. You glance over your shoulder to see her smiling at you and waving you over. There’s a group of people around her that she probably wants to introduce you to and you’d probably spent far too much time at the bar anyway. But…

As you stand to leave Natasha takes you in once more and you blush. You can’t help but wonder what she was thinking. She’d served you a drink and kept you entertained, surely her duties with you were done right? 

Why did her eyes hold so much weight to them now? 

Why was she looking at you like that?

~~

Nat didn’t believe in coincidences.

Conspiracies and coincidences and everything of the sort were things she tried her best to steer clear from. The stuff that followed usually resulted in bad news.

But if you were the same Y/n. Her Y/n. Then-

She hastily reaches out and grabs onto your arm, she’s sure you’ve turned to look at her in shock or confusion but her gaze is fixated on your wrist. The same bracelet from the photo sitting prettily on your soft skin. Skin that’s warm against her cold hands. She watches as a shiver travels down your spine. 

Her eyes travel back up your neck to your pearl earrings. There were probably thousands of pairs of pearl earrings in the world- real and fake. But those were yours, she could recognize them. If anyone could, it would be her.

God, she thought you were beautiful before- flirting for a little bit of fun at this boring party, but knowing it was you-

All those nights hovering over your profile on her computer and using every ounce of self-restraint not to click on the file labeled ‘pictures’ 

All this time she was missing out on every aspect of you. Your captivating curious eyes, the delicate fall of your hair, your soft honeyed lips.

How could she have not recognized your voice sooner? She’d been listening to her recording of your phone call on repeat for days.

Her eyes met yours again and she felt speechless for the first time. And she battled real live aliens three years ago. She’s been through some shit. 

She heard your name get called in the distance, your gaze tore away from hers to find the source of the voice.

A woman around your age is calling you over and you’re getting ready to go over and join her. But how could she let you go when she knows it’s you? All this time. You. She couldn’t wrap her head around what she was seeing. This had to be a dream. 

When your eyes land back on hers they’re filled with an unspoken apology and she panics as she realizes you were about to walk away.

She wants to tell you “It’s me, the Nat you’ve been talking to”, wants to hear her name form on your lips and roll off of your tongue in your soft voice again and again but she doesn’t want to scare you away. 

Not now- she tells herself. 

“Find me later?” it comes out softer than she intended but your lips quirk up in a surprised smile anyway and you nod as your wrist slips from her grasp. 

She watches you walk away and turns back to the bar, a genuine smile slipping from her lips. She could still feel the warmth of your hand against hers, there were so many features about you that she’d gotten wrong when she spent her nights picturing you in her mind. 

You were more beautiful than she could’ve imagined. 

For good measure, she sends you a text and watches you smile as your phone lights up. As soon as you finish typing her phone pings with the all too familiar notification sound. 

    Y/n🍦:

Nat🔪: 

How's the party?

Y/n🍦:

You have no idea!

Nat watches the way you smile at your phone as you text her. Your friend gives you a knowing look and you playfully nudge her.

Returning to her task of making drinks, her eyes scan the room for you every so often to watch the way you smile at guests and the way you grip your friend's arm every time you laugh at something. 

She shakes her head, chuckling, she was going to have to reread every text you sent now that she knows your voice, the way your laugh sounds, the way your eyes light up.

There was no way she was going to be able to keep herself from calling you now. And if you recognized her voice over the phone well- that wouldn’t be so bad anymore.

Pt23

A/n: I hope you guys liked their first encounter! Unfortunately the chances of Y/n recognizing Nat next chapter are pretty slim as there's still more to this story I want to add so please don't yell at me! Love you guys<3 ~Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162

[icycoldninja]

hihi!! may i pretty please request some sparda boys + v x musician reader, preferably a pianist or vocalist? would greatly appreciate it i love love love your hcs so much

Yup yup, here you go!

Sparda boys + V x Musician!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

Oh, you've hit the jackpot. Dante loves listening to and playing music; the fact that you're a musician makes it all better.

-Hopefully you play the drums, bass guitar, keyboard, or something like that because Dante rocks the electric guitar.

-If you're a singer, great, Dante will try to start up a 2-person band.

-It probably won't work, but he doesn't care, he just wants an excuse to hang out with his favorite person.

-You and Dante will have a blast jamming together in the lobby of Devil May Cry, pissing off all your neighbors, upsetting Vergil, and scaring off any potential clients.

-You two are an incredibly loud and badass duo, whose music career will probably never take off, but whatever, you only make music because it's fun.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil is a sophisticated man who appreciates the finer things in life, like classical music.

-He plays the violin himself, so if you play something equally elegant such as the piano, flute, cello, or something like that, he would love it.

-You two could also have jam sessions, except more refined and delicate.

-If you're a good singer, that would be so cool because then Vergil could hav someone sing lyrics while he plays the violin. Of course, he'll have to write the lyrics, (poetry skills finally paying off) but that's just more fun.

-If you happen to play the flute or trumpet very well, you can scare the crap out of Dante by playing mystical music in the middle of the night, making him wonder if Devil May Cry is haunted.

-Or you could serenade Vergil with magical fairytale music and possibly lull him to sleep in the process--whatever works for you.

□ Nero □

-Nero likes heavy metal music with lots of drums, so if you know how to play those, great for you.

-He actually knows a little bit about operating a synthesizer, but nothing more. If you could teach him, that'd be nice.

-He'd love to pick up guitar, but he's way too rough with it and his fingers aren't delicate enough for picking. He actually snapped a couple of strings the first time he tried.

-Nero is also a pretty decent singer. He doesn't have the vocal chords of Freddy Mercury, but he can at least hit high notes pretty well.

-If you are also blessed with awesome singing skills, expect regular karoeke dates, where you and Nero rock out to metal songs, rock songs, and occasionally love ballads.

-Honestly, you two have a better chance at succeeding in the music industry than anyone else mentioned on this list. You two just need a guitarist, maybe a bassist, and you're set.

● V ●

-V, being part of Vergil, enjoys classical music more than anything else--but that doesn't mean he dislikes other types of music.

-V has a secret fascination with pop songs that he just can't understand. Perhaps it's because he's never heard such music before, maybe it's because he just likes the bouncy beats, or maybe it's because he's just a dork.

-Since he is a competent poet, he can easily write lyrics for you, should you happen to be a singer.

-He would love to learn the piano, so if you are able to play, please teach him.

-If you play a string instrument like a violin, guitar, or something like that, V would love to just sit and watch you practice. It's oddly calming.

-If you can play the flute, tuba, or some other similar instrument, he will enjoy observing you play.

[rottenpumpkin13]

what would it be like if the firsts lived together?

They did live together. Once. Right after Angeal and Genesis made First Class, SOLDIER grew in numbers, and the living quarters were still under planning and construction. They shared a spacious three bed, three bathroom apartment later reserved for Thirds to share. Angeal still dubs it "the worst 14 months of his life"

• Genesis had his own cereal, but thought theft tasted better, so he used to steal Sephiroth's cereal and the two would have a physical altercation over rainbow loops.

• Angeal thought Genesis was a neat freak until he met Sephiroth, who made a color-coded spreadsheet to track the frequency of dusting different areas of the house. Sephiroth liked to passive-aggresively wipe down counters after someone had been in the kitchen, and took pictures of Angeal and Genesis as they were actively making messes to hold them accountable later. Apparently Sephiroth still has a scrapbook of photos to this day, which he labeled "Why I live alone."

• Angeal was the type to leave out a dirty mug Genesis used and never washed for days on end, refusing to let Sephiroth wash it, all to prove a point. Sephiroth would cave and wash the dirty mug when she wasn't looking. Genesis knew this, which is why he would continue to use the mug and leave it out. The same mug remained in the sink for all 14 months they lived together.

• Sephiroth is an insomniac and liked to fix himself meals at 3AM, which would give Genesis a green light to practice the fucking flute, also at 3AM. Angeal had never experienced true rage until he heard a half-assed flute version of O Fortuna while Sephiroth was actively beating a stake with a meat hammer.

• Angeal would refuse to cook for them as a protest if he found half-eaten food in the garbage.

• Angeal was also no saint, and his alarm used to be a loud guitar riff meant to get him motivated and out of bed in the morning. The first time Sephiroth was startled awake by loud rock music at 5AM, he thought it was Genesis. So he threw open Genesis' door and attacked him.

• Sephiroth had the tendency to leave all the lights on, even in rooms he wasn't in. This drove Genesis and Angeal insane, and they berated him so much for it that Sephiroth started to walk around the apartment with a jumbo flashlight. He would flash it directly in their faces when talking to them because he's petty.

• Angeal had a tendency to bring over any strange item or piece of furniture he found at yard sales or on the side of the road. Angeal couldn't understand how Sephiroth thought the giant, stained beanbag chair shaped like an eye he got at a yard sale for 3 gil was junk. He also couldn't comprehend why Genesis didn't want the antique vanity Angeal got for free at the flea market because the owner thought it was haunted.

• Everyone had different scent preferences and refused to compromise. This is why the apartment smelled like Banora White Apple candles, Ocean Mist, and Tropical Berry simultaneously. It smelled like ass.

• Sephiroth enjoys his peace, but couldn't meditate when Angeal was screaming at the baseball game on TV while Genesis was using a karaoke machine to recite Loveless. His Root Chakra is still damaged to this day.

• Sephiroth had to find out the hard way what a tie on a closed door meant, and that not all screams mean someone is in danger.

• Genesis had a phase where he would bring over random people from his nights out. The amount of breakfasts Sephiroth had with half-dressed women and men singlehandedly developed his conversational skills.

• Angeal used to have this mentality of "I'm the responsible one, which means I can take things without asking." He took Sephiroth's hair brush without asking once and forgot to put it back. Sephiroth retaliated by bending Angeal's favorite stainless steel pan. Genesis had to separate them, an exhilarating experience he never wants to go through again because the pan and the hairbrush were used as weapons.

• Genesis couldn't understand why Sephiroth and Angeal didn't want his "artistic french films" playing while they were in the room. Angeal's argument was "If I wanted to see balls while I'm cooking dinner, I would make this lasagna in the locker room at SOLDIER."

[sca-rian]

UPDATES ON RICHARLYSON AND THE BRAZILIANS, FROM CELLBIT'S STREAM (05/03)

i love how this stream started with silly shenanigans and then went to complex lore and back to shenanigans. also VERY long post warning since this is over 6 hours of content

banner art by @spot_desenhador

- they've started project imortalyson, each of them is gonna teach richarlyson important survival skills

- tazercraft is teaching him intimidation skills, forever is furthering teaching him how to rob things and stealth in general, cellbit is teaching combat (due to his past as a killer in minecraft 💀) and felps is teaching him movement and strategy

- tazercraft is building a little football/soccer field so they can play with richarlyson

- chayanne and richarlyson are now best friends :D

- cellbit and felps had their first fight. the reason: cellbit gave felps a banana and felps compared it to foolish's banana. this is an important update

- cellbit is doing richarlyson's daily missions!!!!

- richarlyson's favorite food is tapioca (this is important.)

- cellbit made him a totally edible tapioca

- after 2 hours of stream, they finally start on project imortalyson

- quackity is also giving 1% of training lessons

- ALMOST EVERYONE ON SERVER COMING TO WATCH AND HYPE IT UP?

- this entire sequence is. something. it includes valuable life lessons, bad translations of portuguese sayings ("lower your balls", "breast me" 💀), bobby and richarlyson exchanging insults, parkour, forever beating the bad father allegations

- things get TENSE with the richarlyson/bobby rivalry since bobby kept trying to steal the spotlight and be a nuisance

- as a final test, they followed richarlyson around in a cave until he found his first diamonds

- quackity is apparently trying to get a higher percentage of richarlyson's custody ? stay tuned for updates !

- update: rumor says he has 5% of custody now.... not sure if it's true. forever didn't confirm anything

- cellbit, felps and richarlyson quietly left the cave after quackity started threatening bobby

- RICHARLYSON CRAFTED HIS FIRST DIAMOND PICKAXE 🔥🔥🔥🔥

- they're doing a picnic :) with joyful music playing in the background :) and flowers :)

- richarlyson went to take a nap and cellbit started building his house in the meantime

- cellbit and richarlyson went to see bbh and maximus

- he's getting into the lore 👁 investigation music is playing. maximus is telling cellbit to be careful with quackity because quackity wants to kill all eggs

- cellbit is joining them on investigating what's going on with the island

- (guys cellbit is so excited about this. it's exactly his type of stuff since he used to do vídeos on args and stuff like that. he was also planning on doing something similar himself on the server)

- maximus is showing him the stuff with morse code/cyphers he got from the hacker transmissions and more. cellbit is gonna help them with the cypher

- meanwhile, richarlyson and dapper are getting along well!! :D they were having a little party with sombreros and mexican music

- if you're interested, around after the 4 hour mark, the stream is mostly in english and they talk about the lore and about decoding the cypher from one of the transmissions!!! very cool stuff

- 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THEY PUT MINES ON VEGETTAS HOUSE AND WERE PUTTIMG THE BLAME ON CELLBIT??? I HATE IT HERE!!!! apparently maximus plan was to lead cellbit there so he could record him as evidence

- theyre changing it to blame bobby instead 💀

- richarlyson was playing the flute with tallulah :)

- forever keeps dying btw

- cellbit finished his house! hes also to planning a secret bunker under it to work on investigating the server and the transmissions

- quackity showed up and him and cellbit struggled with mines for several minutes. quackitys house is mostly gone.

- cellbit invited quackity to live in the favela with them

- AT THIS POINT IDK HOW MANY EXPLOSIONS WE HAD IN THE LAST 15 MINUTES

- cellbit put richarlyson to bed and played a undertale song while doing it :)

- uhhh apparently i left the stream and something lore relevant happened. cellbit got attacked by something that was definitely not a regular minecraft mob! hahah how funny. it was one of the things with binary code for a nick

i think this was most of the interesting/fun stuff that happened today. sorry for the long post and hopefully it helps some people who want to stay updated with the brazilians!! any extra information/details/translations you guys may want, feel free to send me an ask. or just come talk to me about these guys :)

[totowlff]

break the rules

➝ you're there for business and that's all. however, after your presentation, you meet a mysterious man who makes you question all your convictions.

➝ word count: 3,8k

➝ warnings: strip club environment, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut

➝ author’s note: this was an idea that appeared suddenly and that was stored for some time in my drafts. after finishing my last one shot, i took the courage to finish this story. definitely not my best, but I still find it interesting and, in a way, mysterious.

The wind whipped your hair against your face as you walked down the narrow street. Winter hadn't officially arrived in Vienna, but that didn't stop you from feeling a bone-chilling cold under the thick coat and red scarf you had chosen to leave the house that late afternoon.

The movement at that time of day in the Innere Stadt was intense, cars roaming the alleys near St. Stephen's Cathedral, sharing the tight space with buses, bicycles, motorbikes and pedestrians, many pedestrians. Residents and tourists, adults and children, all mixed together, heading to their homes, apartments and hotel rooms to rest after a long day in the City of Dreams. Walking in the opposite direction, however, you weren't going home or to the hotel, like them.

You were going to work.

The fact that you had a night job was not surprising, considering that that was a city that had tourism as its main economic asset. There were countless bars, restaurants and cafes that were open, waiting anxiously for customers, especially after a complicated period related to the Covid-19 pandemic.

But the surprising part of your job was that you weren't a waitress, a cook, or a bartender, even though you'd served countless flutes of champagne and glasses of whiskey, with and without ice.

You were a stripper.

It wasn't the most conventional job there was in Vienna, especially considering the city's nightlife. However, it was the only one that, in addition to paying well enough to cover the expenses of the PhD in psychology you were doing, was flexible with the timing of the workshops and seminars you needed to attend, as well as making it possible for you to work on your dissertation during the week.

Your family didn't know, let alone your classmates or teachers. The official version was that you worked in a high-end bar and received some generous tips from customers. Nobody needed to know what you did or said for them to pay you so well.

Stopping briefly to see an interesting shoe that was in the Midanis window, you headed towards the brown door next to the gold tiled wall where the club's name was placed. Stopping in front of the intercom, you quickly typed in the employee passcode, a simple sequence that caused the lock to squeak open.

Descending the stairs leading to the lounge, you came across one of the security guards, who was smartly dressed in a well-tailored suit.

— Good evening, Layla.

— Good evening, Marc — you replied, smiling.

That wasn't your real name. As soon as you were hired by the club, you were given a new name, of Arabic origin, in order to protect your privacy and offer more security against clients who wanted to cross the line that was firmly delimited in your contract. Unlike other girls, you had refused to join the club's list of available escorts.

You were there to dance, and only to dance.

As you entered the main hall, you found the place being carefully prepared for the night. Two female employees were bent over tables, wiping them down, while the bartender arranged drinks on the bar. Greeting them with a smile, you crossed the room towards a door at the back of the room, which led to the dressing rooms.

As she opened the door, your nostrils were filled with the scent of hairspray, women's perfume, and nail polish remover. In the speakers, a lively beat mingled with the conversations and laughter of the other women who worked there, who were already getting ready for the night.

— Good evening, Layla — a blonde girl, who was modeling a curl with a curling iron, greeted you.

— Good evening, Fatin — you answered, as you went towards the lockers and opened yours to put your purse in — Curls today?

— Aisha heard that there is a big table reserved tonight — Fatin replied, letting go of the strand she'd just styled and picking up another one — Looks like it's a big guy's birthday party. And you know what it means, right?

— Tips? — you replied, looking over your shoulder as you removed the coat you were wearing, revealing the black top you were wearing underneath. Then it was the turn of the jeans to slide down your legs, revealing your panties in the same color.

— Exactly — she smiled, releasing another curl — And the good ones. The kind ones that pay bills.

— I hope so, I still have to pay my apartment’s rent this week — you chuckled, as you folded your coat and put it in your locker. Then you pulled the black tulle top and shorts out of your bag, putting them on right there. There was no point in feigning modesty considering the women there were dressed even less discreetly than you. Finally, you put on your favorite heels, with transparent and vertiginous platforms, perfect for the choreography you would be doing that night.

Sitting in front of the mirror, you were just finishing gluing on your false eyelashes when Theresia, the club manager, walked into the dressing room with a wide smile on her face.

— Good evening, girls — she said, receiving a chorus of positive responses — Today we are hosting a large group for a birthday celebration, so I ask that you put your all into your choreographies and be nice to them.

— Do you have the setlists? — one of the girls, a brunette whose name there was Huda, asked.

— You start, Huda, followed by Iman, Layla, Malika and Karima closes the first round — the woman replied, making you release the air that was trapped in your throat. You hated being the first one to perform, as your choreography was more rhythmic, and generally, the audience appreciated more lively opening numbers — Any other questions? No? Great. Girls who want to go to the bar are free to do so.

Theresia walked out with a few girls behind her. However, you remained seated, staring at your own shoes.

— Layla? — someone called you. You looked up to find Fatin standing in front of you with a smile on his red lips — Are you going to stick around?

— Yeah. I want to stretch and concentrate for the performance.

— Want me to take a look at the guys to give you a preview?

You smiled.

— I do.

— Okay, I'm going there and I'll be right back, okay?

Fatin left the dressing room towards the club’s bar, while you remained seated, staring at your own reflection. You were wearing strong makeup, your eyes lined with eyeliner, almost cat-like. A perfect parallel with the choreography you had chosen for that night, which had something wild and mysterious about it.

As you mentally recalled the steps, following the beat of the music in your head, you imagined how your movements would look to the eyes of the men who should be walking into the club at that hour, ordering their drinks and talking about business and other banal things before enjoying the women who would walk onstage and make them put their hands in their wallets and pockets.

Still thinking about one of the moves you would make, your eyes met Fatin's, who was returning to the room with a wide smile on her face.

— Did you like what you saw? — you asked, stifling a laugh.

— There are some interesting guys out there. Apparently they're here to celebrate the 50th birthday of one of them. But if you ask me, they don't look 50 years old...

— Did you ask their age?

— No, but, you know, these guys always have friends the same age.

You laughed.

— Everyone from here?

— Doesn’t look like it, as they're speaking English. There must be foreigners with them.

— Americans?

— Don't think so. Too handsome to be 50-year-old guys from America.

— There are 50-year-old guys from America who are handsome.

— But those are too handsome, Layla. And, let's face it, the only good looking guy in America at that age must be Ben Affleck and I'm pretty sure he's not out there.

— Of course he’s not, he got married this year.

— Married? — Fatin asked, incredulous.

— Yeah, with Jennifer Lopez — you replied. It wasn't like you followed celebrity news, in fact, you found out after a customer commented on your butt being similar to the singer's and lamented for long minutes about her marriage.

— Shit — she muttered, taking a seat in a chair beside her, facing the mirror.

— Don't worry, you'll find your Ben soon, Fatin.

The two of you continued talking, commenting about the choreography you were working on and the song you were dancing to that night. When showing a video that you had made in a rehearsal, your colleague gave a mischievous smile.

— The guys out there are going to love it.

— You think so?

— I'm sure — she replied, as you caught sight of Theresia's face in the dressing room doorway, a slightly worried expression on her face.

— Layla, you’re up.

— Why?

— Iman's with a client and the guy paid for an hour with her. I can't get her out of there now.

You sighed, getting up from your chair.

— The show must go on — you said, pushing past Fatin and heading for the door.

The way to the stage was always a moment of introspection for you. It was as if you stripped yourself of all the labels you occupied in the lives of the people around you. You abandoned your daughter, granddaughter, friend, student, psychologist and future doctor to become just Layla. Your sensual and confident alter-ego, who looked each of those men in the eye and made them feel much more than sexually desired, but understood and welcomed as well.

Standing at the entrance to the stage, you took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching your hands, relaxing the muscles in your shoulders. “It's showtime”, you thought, before looking up and wiggling your feet to check that your shoes were securely fastened to your feet.

And then you entered the stage, slowly.

The room seemed to quieten as you walked to the center of the stage, the voices becoming whispers inside your head. Leaning your back against the pole, you waited for the woman's voice to come through the speakers before looking up. The club was full, men and women mixed up, liquor bottles, champagne flutes and whiskey glasses strewn across the tables.

The soft beat guided your movements. Lifting one leg a few times, soon you were pulling yourself up onto the pole, spinning as your body slid down. Your muscle memory took you through the music as if it were something natural that you had done hundreds of times. Every step came naturally, every sigh, every lust-filled gaze you directed at the audience.

After a few steps on the ground and spinning around the pole to get up again, you finished the choreography looking back at the audience, while the song ended in a whisper from the interpreter. The silence that followed made the corners of your lips curl. The mission had been accomplished.

Taking a deep breath, you waited for the spotlight that illuminated you to go out so that you left the stage in quick steps, hurrying to make room for the next girl who would perform there. At the backstage door, Fatin was waiting for you with a wide smile on her face.

— Another perfect performance, Layla — she said, as she escorted you back to the dressing room — The guys were completely mesmerized.

— I hope you didn't notice that I missed one of the footprints on the pole — you replied, walking back into the dressing room.

— Honestly, I didn't even notice — Fatin murmured, while you took one of the small glasses of water and took a long drink — Now drink this and let's go back to the hall.

After a quick look in the mirror to confirm that your hair was still acceptable and that your makeup still looked fresh, you followed Fatin to the bar, which was, indeed, very busy. Smiling, you waved towards the bar, where the bartender, Farah, was making another Old Fashioned for one of the men sitting across from her.

— Layla — you heard Theresia call out to you from a corner of the hall, near the hallway that led to the private rooms. Giving Fatin's shoulder a knowing squeeze, you walked over to the manager with a smile on your face.

— Yeah?

— There's a guy waiting for you inside.

You blinked.

— Who?

— Does it matter?

— Well, it's just that I haven't talked to anyone yet...

— And you don't even have to, just move that ass of yours and these guys are happy — she said sharply — Now go, he's in room three.

Nodding, somewhat resigned, you entered the hallway in silence. Taking a deep breath, you were concentrating on putting the mask back on, on being the mysterious, seductive woman that man had seen onstage. “Focus”, you thought, before exhaling and putting your hand on the doorknob.

The private rooms always had the same layout, with a pole placed in the center of the room while a large black velvet sofa took up three of the walls of the room. Sitting right in the middle of it, tugging at the sleeves of his white shirt, was the man who had requested your presence.

He had dark hair and eyes, as well as a strong jaw. His shoulders were broad and, even sitting down, he looked very tall. Upon noticing his presence, he straightened his posture, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

— Good night — you said, slowly approaching the pole in the middle of the room, your eyes locked on his.

— Good night — he replied, his deep voice running through your body like a caress and a shiver — Layla, isn't it?

— Yeah — you said, placing a hand on the cold metal, leaning almost nonchalantly, even though you were feeling just the opposite. However, the rule was clear: it didn't matter to you who he was. It only mattered that he was willing to pay to have you for his eyes alone, if only for a few minutes.

— I liked your performance — he said, resting his elbows on his thighs — Have you been dancing long?

— A few years already — you replied, as you walked around the pole, your fingers slipping along it.

— And you like it, I presume.

— Well, yes — you said, smiling as you practiced a few laps on the pole — It pays my bills, so I can't complain.

The corners of his lips curled up as he leaned back on the couch.

— I guess I can say the same about my work.

— What do you do? — you asked, before mentally condemning yourself. It didn't matter to you what he did, you were just there to be a pleasant sight and nothing more. However, your curiosity did not anger the man in front of you.

— A curious girl, I see — he murmured, giving her a small smile.

— Someone needs to be — you hesitated, after all, you didn't know his name. And, realizing this, he hastened to complete.

— You can call me Torger.

A strong name. Powerful. Unusual. Something tingled on his skin.

— And what do you do for a living, Torger?

— Business — he replied, punctually.

— That we all do, don't we? — you returned, leaning against the pole.

— Indeed. But in my case, it's real business. Finance.

— Banker? Or investor?

— Neither of them. I own a business.

You snorted, looking unimpressed.

— Ah, crypto, eh? — you said — I hope you're not thinking of paying me that way, I won't accept it.

Your comment made Torger chuckle, throwing his head back. Stopping suddenly, your heart was pounding in your chest as something warm spread through your body.

— No, no, I've learned my lesson regarding cryptocurrency, I don't even want to think about putting money into that.

— Did you already try and lose money?

— Enough for me to regret thinking it would work — the man replied, running a hand through his hair — The point is, my job is related to finance, and before you ask, it's not illegal at all.

— I'm relieved — you murmured, allowing yourself to hook one leg over the pole for a quick spin.

— And you?

— What about me?

— What do you do? — Torger asked.

— You see what I do — you answered — I dance.

— I'm asking out of here. Do you work with something else? Study?

You pressed your lips together as you put your feet back on the ground. The moment you stepped there, Y/N didn't exist, the woman who was fighting for a postdoctoral degree didn't exist, neither the daughter, or the sister or the granddaughter that you were.

There was only Layla. And only she could be there, inside that room.

— I can't say anything.

— Why not? — he asked, raising an eyebrow.

— Because it's in the rules — you said, leaning against the pole again.

That was an outright lie. There were no rules within the club regarding what you could and could not say about yourself to the customers. The choice was entirely yours and you always chose not to say it so as to protect yourself from potential stalkers. Yet even following your own directive, something told you that you could trust Torger.

— Rules?

— From the club. I can't say anything about myself.

— Anything?

— Anything.

— Not even if I want to know more?

— Not if I wanted to tell you more — you said, stopping in front of the pole. Staring at you, Torger had the shadow of a smile on his face, as if he sensed that you wanted to say more. “Am I that transparent?”, you asked yourself as you took careful steps towards him.

— And are there any other rules here that you need to follow?

— Well, there are some — you murmured.

— Do you mind telling me?

You took a few seconds to think as you allowed your back to slide down the pole, coming to a stop on your knees in front of it.

— I can't use my real name or any information that identifies me, and I can't drink or smoke during working hours.

— Layla isn't your name then?

— No — you replied with a smile, as you slowly rose from the ground — And I didn't even mention the rules you have to follow…

— Are you serious?

You chuckled as you walked to the front of him.

— Yeah. You can't pressure me for information about her private life, not even take me out of the club during working hours... And you can't, under any circumstances, make physical contact.

— You mean I can't touch you? — he asked, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

— No, you can't — you replied, looking down at his hands. They were big, with long fingers and not a ring in sight. Perfect to touch you.

— Not even if I asked?

— No.

— No one would know.

— They would.

— Only if you tell — he returned, in a mischievous tone.

Moving closer, you crouched down in front of him, your eyes wandering over his expression, trying to unravel what was behind the mischievous smile and curious look. He was completely magnetic, drawing you into his orbit in an almost natural way.

— And you want to touch me? — you finally asked.

— Yes, I do.

Looking into his dark eyes, you took a deep breath before taking his hand and bringing it to his face, your fingers lightly touching his skin. You felt as if your entire body was pulsing, heat spreading inside your chest. The feeling of doing it for the first time was both frightening and delicious.

— You're beautiful — Torger murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

— You're rather handsome yourself — you replied, making him chuckle.

— Thanks, I don’t hear that often.

— Seriously?

— Yeah. I've never been successful with girls.

— I don’t believe you.

— Why not?

— Because you're making me want to break all of my rules — you replied, instinctively bringing your face closer to his — And I never break rules.

— But you're breaking them now.

— For you.

— I guess I should feel special.

— Maybe you are — you whispered, your face close enough that your nose was brushing his. His touch on your face made anticipation swell below your navel — Maybe you are that much more than special…

You knew the moment you kissed him, you were lost. This was your last chance to back off, to avoid doing something you would bitterly regret. But at the same time, you wanted to jump into that abyss, you wanted to do that.

And when you kissed him, it was glorious.

It was a chaste, subtle touch. It was the first time you'd kissed a customer, and in a way, you wanted it to be the last. You wanted to kiss that man forever if that was possible. You wanted to taste him, wanted to feel his skin under your fingers. I wanted to feel his strength and delicacy mixing with his desire between the sheets.

— Torger — you whispered as he pulled away slightly. However, the answer came through his hands, which helped you up and placed you on one of his legs. Wrapping one of his arms around his neck, he didn't wait to bring your lips together again, this time in a more intense kiss.

It was strange to be in that position, completely surrendered to a customer, tasting alcohol on his tongue and his fingers squeezing your thigh. But, it was a good-type stranger. A stranger who made you understand why other girls had their favorite customers, who they offered more than attention and affection.

— I've never seen a woman like you — he growled, nibbling her neck, the hand that was on her thigh slowly moving up her body, burning you with desire — So beautiful, so perfect...

Your fingers dug into his dark hair, pressing his face against your skin, as if it could give you a crumb of pleasure. And, considering the path his lips made towards your breasts, you were pretty sure it was close.

Until the lights in the room turned white, and the music suddenly stopped.

That change in the environment had him looking up at you as sadness invaded your chest, your lips pressed into a thin line.

— What happened?

— Your time is up — you muttered.

— But… If I want, I can request more time, right?

You sighed, getting up from his lap. It was like waking up from a really good dream and realizing it never really happened. You couldn't have a guy like him all to yourself, you never could. You could never have more of him, however much you wanted.

— No, Torger. The limit is 30 minutes per girl, per night.

— Shit — he said quietly, running a hand over his face.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, not to say painful. You didn't want to go, but you knew you needed to get on with your night, just like he did.

But how to continue working after that?

“The show must go on”, you said to yourself mentally, before sighing and turning towards the door. However, something wrapped around your wrist, preventing you from following. Turning your face, you found Torger's dark eyes fixed on yours.

— Are you going to be here tomorrow?

— Yeah. I perform every night here.

— So I'll see you tomorrow, okay?

— Okay — you replied with a little smile — See you tomorrow, Torger.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he placed a kiss on your knuckles.

— See you tomorrow, Layla.

[miirohs]

skz as marching band members

cw: n/a an: can you hear my inner band kid coming out after the absolute banger this comeback was? i may not be in band but colorguard is pretty damn close- also the reader a colorguard member! shoutout to nyx, ily boo!

bang chan:

hes a drum major. 100%

he also is band captain bc he's just that bitch

co-arranges musics with the band director and everyone knows when the time he's gonna pull out the 1970s/80s/90s music

use to be a clarinet, but definitely plays in some games if another drum major is conducting for him

an absolute beast when he's conducting, never misses a beat

he's always open to discovering new music bc he loves to arrange songs he enjoys

he's a strickler and needs shit to be on time because he needs to keep a consistent schedule lest he forget to do something

with his partner:

i mean he's definitely the type to try and help with counts (even if your counts are different than the rest of the band)

if he had a dime for every time he got yelled at because he was busy watching your section he'd have a lot of dimes

he likes to say its because your flags are bright and distracting but lets be fr he was watching you

definitely copies the stand dances when he's conducting and makes the rest of the band laugh when he messes up.

typa guy to ask you for a kiss for luck right before the halftime because in his words, "you're his lucky charm"

lee minho:

hes the cheer captain, four time state champion and a menace

probably did band for like half a year and then quit

runs the cheer team practices like its a fucking military camp, everyone fears and loves him

hes grown to have a reputation because once a girl quit due to the pressure and he basically followed her around school for a whole week and she ended up switching schools

deviously talking shit about some of the band and all the football team all the goddamn time, loves loves loves to start beef and then walk away

he also does choreography work with the guard sometimes because he likes seeing the pretty flags

with his partner:

at some point he drags the whole team to your comps just to see y'all, he loves seeing you specifically put all his work in action

always offering helpful advice on how to fix body angles, posture, etc

since he's a performer himself, he get how easy it is to burn out so sometimes he'll bring you to his own practices and show you things he's choreographed himself

seonghwa is considering locking you away after the sheer amount of times you've gone "mysteriously" missing during the end of practice

Always cheers extra loud for you in the stands, just to see your smile

seo changbin:

he's literally so bass/sousaphone coded

him and wooyoung (sax) and yeonjun (flute) have definitely tried to play each others instruments at at least one point

probably switches between the two every year, well versed in how to play both

definitely plays bass outside of band, is hella good at it too

people find him intimidating but in all honesty he's a sweetheart who would help you no matter what

probably one of the dudes that marches with way more energy than the rest of his section combined- literally during weekend practices he's smiling and laughing at 9 in the morning while everyone sluggishly retrieves their instruments

he's also a part of the stage crew and moves and paints a lot of their equipment

with his partner:

he'd definitely try to teach you how to play the bass and he'd be so proud when you manage to play like one chord

calls his friends over and everything and is like "look they did it!"

in return you've definitely taught him stand dances and bro is killing it- you keep trying to convince him to join but he's loyal

whenever you're performing near him, he has the stupidest heart-struck eyes and is always watching you

loves when you do rifle work because he thinks it looks sick as hell

he wouldn't try it though because he's scared that he'll hit himself and he still doesn't know how you do it

he'll give you little winks if you're close by

hwang hyunjin:

hes a piccolo through and through

he's got both the drama and the sass all the flute section is carrying

he always has his piccolo on him, so he's ready to give the performance of a lifetime whenever needed

he's big big friends with the guard and cheer team, they have their own dedicated groupchat and everything

also the costume manager, he has literally been badgering chan to update the uniforms like forever, sometimes he adds his own little spins to the costumes and also does repairs on them

with his partner:

he admires the guard (you) from afar for sure

he carries your stuff for you because he's such a gentleman (also the piccolo is pocket sized and chan has been getting on his ass about treating the instrument right but to him nothing matters more than treating you right)

definitely joins you and seonghwa when you're gossiping about

sometimes he plays and you'll just do a random saber combo to it and he'll cheer for you

sometimes he likes to take a spin on it (and immediately regret when it smacks his fingers really bad)

whenever you get a boo-boo he always kisses it better, swears his kisses will immediately heal your bruises

han jisung:

he's a trumpet (which is oddly fitting for him)

plays sad music even when it doesn't call for it

always doing the sad trombone thing on trumpet and the trombones are salty that he kinda stole their thunder with that

he's known in the low brass section for being able to play almost any brass instrument with the littlest instruction

chan basically refuses to let him make the switch to sax because he knows what'll happen if he does (he thinks han'll go crazy)

he loves a good challenge, will trumpet-off with other people and play songs on his instruments against other sections

with his partner:

he probably plays show tunes and stuff while you dance with him- loves to call you his showgirl

he's always vibing to your little thumps when you toss and throw, wishes that he could do it too

tries to teach you how to play but that does not end well

he's clingy, he'll do anything to stay with you a little longer

sometimes he even asks you to help find his music for him in an attempt to distract you (its in his bag and he'll magically remember after you give him a hug or some form of physical affection)

lee felix:

probably picked the flute cause it looks pretty aesthetic lets be fr

everyone in band comes to him for marching advice because he makes it look fun and easy

always giving it 100% even if no one can hear him- he makes sure he's heard

even though he joined as a hobby, he's killing it and he plays outside of band as well

always doing musical challenges on tik tok, especially when he should be practicing in sectionals

his favorite thing to play on the flute are disney songs, but he also plays a shit ton of different genres and posts them to tik tok, bringing some semblance of fame to their little high school band

with his partner:

he 100% plays little snippets of song you like because everything sounds good on flute (trust me)

will convince you to do tik toks with him even if you aren't a fan

sometimes you let him try the flag or saber in exchange for his flute so you can try it

he admits that the only reason he leaves his flute to you whenever he goes is so that he can sit nearby and listen to you try to play it (and fail)

he would most definitely be a natural at flag but tries not to do as well so you can shine when your time comes

lets you lean back against him in the stands

kim seungmin:

he's percussion. he's literally a percussion in my heart.

he definitely plays the drums around chan because he thinks its funny to annoy him by drumming off count

no one has ever survived a drum comp with this man fr

sometimes he hums along to his drumming

also taps his thighs/air when he doesn't have something in his hands

he has good rhythm so chan usually has him set the pace to which they go on the field to

he's competitive as hell, he knows hes also better than everyone else and he shows it

with his partner:

he loves guard but he refuses to be put next to them on the drill because he suffered an injury at your hands once

he loves to show off he can play the drums and him and his section do little drumming sessions sometimes while you do saber warmups

he distracts both you and himself a lot when it comes to joint practices so seonghwa and chan have tried to move them (to no avail)

he'll sit outside with you when you guys practice sometimes (as support he says, but seonghwa doesn't believe him)

he's always giving you little nods of approval, doesn't outright show it but he'll take your hands and give you a little kiss when no ones looking

he doesn't want his section to know he's soft for you

yang jeongin:

he's front ensemble/pit, i hope we all agree on him being on the synths and marimba

he's a vital part of the band for sure even if he never seems to get credit but he honestly could care less

has been running synths since he joined, originally wanted to do the sousaphone but he wasn't built enough for it

also the front ensemble section leader, he's very efficient in managing the pit

but he's also clumsy as hell and will sometimes zone out and drops the mallet on the marimba or just entirely forgets wtf he's suppose to be doing on the synths

more than once he's nearly caught these hands from chan bc in chans words, "those were expensive"

with his partner:

whenever he sees you on the sidelines, he's always ginning because out of the corner of his eye he can see you jamming out to the music

everyone teases him (especially binnie) because he zones out watching you and drops the mallet on his foot

follows your every move carefully (and like minho), and he'll always give you advice, but he sugar coats it very much because he loves you and doesn't want to hurt your feelings

loves loves loves when you send him little videos of your progress

loves it even more when you question him about his work, it makes him feel so important pls ask him how he does shit hes dying for it

brushes against you when walking out to the fields during games- he just wants to let you know hes there

[bokettochild]

lol I’ll guess that u listened to Monster while writing that scene? And yes I love Christian music. I care about the lyrics I’m listening to so Christian is what I tend to fill my playlist w. Plus, since I’m a Christian myself I like to support those artists and know they exist bc they’re less common than secular music.

On a LU note, favorite genres per boy? And do they focus more on lyrics or melody?

Oh fantastic! I was a bit wary of suggesting just the Christian artists I grew up on, but I'm glad to hear you enjoy it too! I tend to be more careful with what I listen to as well, but sometimes you don't get a choice (and that sometimes is when your room-mate doesn't give a darn).

For the LU boys:

Hyrule doesn't have a lot of experience with music, but most of what he hears in his era is folk music, much of it passed down from Legend's era (or just straight up written by Legend). He'd enjoy most stringed instruments, I think, but especially because stringed instruments are the best for group songs (the musician can sing too) and he loves the sense of community the music creates.

Legend would be a mix of folk and work songs, since, again, it's something he would have grown up around. He'd be pretty versatile about music though, but I think his favorite instruments would be the piano and the violin/fiddle. Still I think blues and jazz would be something he's really enjoy as well, or just anything really soulful, although he'd have to be in the mood.

Twilight is a country boy, need I say more? He's a fiddler himself, I think, but the banjo and guitar are special too. Mouth organ is a maybe, sometimes it's too much for his ears, but the way it compliments other music is something he really enjoys. French horn is something he really lives though (since it plays so prominent a role in Ordon's music)

Sky is accustomed to the lyre and flute family, but I think he'd really enjoy communal music like Legend, Twilight, and Hyrule. He'd probably get a rush from rock, but only in small doses, as I really can't see this man being a metal head. If he had the chance to hear a full orchestra though, I think he'd be utterly blown away and just dazzled! Same with a proper choir performance. He feels like the type of guy who'd enjoy a vocal arrangement as much as an instrumental one.

Time is a rock man. 80's style dad rock. He cannonically says things like "groovy", so this is cannon to me. (also @cantankerouscanuck got me hooked on the idea). He likes softer music too, but his happy music is the heavier stuff. The ocarina may be what he;s known for, but this guy performed with the Indigo-Go's, he knows how to handle a guitar!

Wind is a pirate, so like Legend, he's used to working songs mostly, but I think he'd also enjoy rock, like most 13-year-olds do at one point or another LOL. He'd be mostly versatile though! Anything with a beat makes him happy mostly (RIP Wind, you would've loved rap)

Four isn't much of a musical person, as none of the colors can agree and the chaos is a bit much, but when split, let's just say that they cover the full spectrum of musical interests :)

Warriors is one that I headcannon to come from a poorer background, so instruments weren;t much of a thing where he's from. Vocal arrangements and folk music were common, but because I love the idea of a Celtic Captain, there was a piper who came to town once and a bit and the music was much adored by a young Wars. Now that he's come city side, he's very fond of piano, but that deep love of the pipes will never leave him <3

Wild isn't much used to music, but I think he just likes anything you can play on an accordion, since the association with Kass and the Rito makes him happiest. Don't tell me that they don't all adore and treat "the champion's descendant" like one of their own! Rito village is his home away from home, but Kass's music is a constant no matter where he is. He'd like other music, I think, especially "exotic" music like what we hear played in Gerudo Town (Naboris' Theme slaps!) but the accordion is the sound of home to him.

[lovely-vanserra-sunshine]

This ain't no love that's guiding me - Part 2

Read part 1 here!

For @erisweekofficial day 3 - betrayal

Summary: Eris knew this arrangement was inevitable. He was the Autumn Heir and Autumn Heirs need to have a wife and child. What he wasn’t expecting was just how soon it would happen.

With the situation uncertain and new, Eris needed to adapt fast to his surroundings, learn how to say the right things, and wear the mask that made his father proud. Thankfully, growing up in the Autumn Court taught him how to mature quickly.

Read below or on ao3

Lady Orlaith. That was the name of the female Eris needed to dance with. If all went well, she was to be his betrothed.

Other than the fact that she was from a prominent Autumn family with a bloodline full of warriors and strong powers, Eris didn’t know much about her. Her father, Cian, was an influential male whom Eris’s own father respected on some level. Enough, at least, to have started discussions of marriage between their children by the time Eris was two.

Father explained to Eris on several occasions that, as the Autumn Heir, it was his duty to solidify alliances and establish power through marriage. That his duty was to always give back to the Mother and the Autumn Court. Eris didn’t quite understand at the time what that all meant, but he knew he’d have a wife at some point in the future, and a family. What he didn’t realize was that it would happen so soon.

Across the ballroom, Father, with Mother silently at his side, was talking with a mix of his advisors, some rulers of smaller Autumn territories, and stewards. Among them was Cian. He stood close to Father and smiled a little too wickedly, laughed a touch too long.

Father explained once that Cian would bend over backwards if it meant he earned a step ahead in life. These types of people were apparently good to have because it meant that they’d easily comply with anything.

A boot licking bastard. That was how Father referred to them.

Standing on the other side of the ballroom, Eris practiced saying it under his breath. A boot licking bastard. The words felt dirty on his tongue, but he forced himself to keep practicing as he gazed around the room until they no longer felt so wrong.

There were large groups of young males and females, all gathered along the walls, chatting and taking small sips from their flutes of champagne. It was a large banquet with most fae from Autumn, but a select few from the other courts. Everyone was dressed in Autumn’s colors, males with their vests in shades ranging from the darkest of reds to golden yellows, and females with skirts so large and billowy that Eris imagined at least two younglings would be able to hide underneath them.

Around them, the string quartet played the final notes of a song, and the chatter started to die. Father excused both himself and Mother from the conversation with the males and sat down with Cian at a table. As all three of their gazes met his, Eris suddenly felt his heart beat wildly against his chest.

If his dance instructor was right about the order, then the next song was the one he was expected to dance in. With a sweeping gaze, he finally found Lady Orlaith on one of the balconies, back resting against the railing as she spoke with her brother, chin lowered as if sharing a secret.

She wore an emerald gown, chic and elegant, with sleeves that fell off her shoulder, exposing her bare clavicles and long neck. The fabric consisted of the shiniest silk with intricate golden swirls across the hem. It was considered more salacious than the usual modest Autumn gowns, and Eris was surprised that she dared to wear it on such an important night.  

With piercing brown eyes and prominent cheekbones, Lady Orlaith looked sharp and severe.  She continued murmuring with her brother behind a gloved hand, eyes sparkling in malicious joy as they peered down at those on the dance floor.

Eris pulled his shoulders back, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that she was not only older than him, but taller too.

Swallowing past the cotton in his throat, Eris took the necessary steps to the other side of the room. He felt Father’s eyes on him, and if he were to look at him, he’d likely see an indifferent expression, but Eris knew there was always a secret threat that lurked underneath.

“Lady Orlaith,” he greeted. 

He bowed deeply before her, counting silently in his head the grueling seconds that was considered appropriate before he could stand up again. When he straightened, Lady Orlaith looked at him with eyes that hinted briefly of distaste, but she quickly bowed her head and dropped to a curtsey before Eris could fully decipher the look.

“It is an honor to meet you,” he said.

The slight tilt of her head and mocking twitch of her lip was unmistakable upon hearing the rushed and mumbled greeting. He refused to look at any of the prying eyes around him and chose to ignore the snickers from Lady Orlaith’s older brother who stood beside her. If it were possible, Eris wanted nothing more than to set the ballroom on fire without anyone knowing it was him.

“It is a pleasure,” she replied with a voice that held no sincerity.

Stiffly, he offered up his arm and recited the words that were drilled into him. “Will you honor me with your hand?”

She offered a curt nod and a strained smile, and placed her gloved hand delicately in his.

It felt like an eternity as he walked her to the middle of the floor where the other partners were waiting in two lines. On one side stood the males and on the other were the females. Despite the many who had already taken their place on the dance floor, Eris swore he felt everyone turn to face him as they passed.

As the music started, Eris caught Mother’s eye and felt a jolt in his stomach. Maybe she had confidence in his dancing, but he certainly didn’t. Not with the way Lady Orlaith was staring at him with disdain.

He placed his hands light and clinical against her. His palms were, thankfully, not sweaty, and the steps came to him with ease. It was still awkward, to say the least, and it was no help that Eris only came up to her shoulders. But he was grateful that his instructor had also been taller than him during lessons and he knew how to lead even with the disadvantages on his side.

“You look beautiful,” he said, trying to offer something.

Lady Orlaith only offered him a tight lipped smile in return and then looked elsewhere. Eris tried not to let it get to his head, didn’t even allow his thoughts drift to any of his insecurities. Instead, he let his own gaze drift around the ballroom and very nearly stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the flames in Mother’s eyes, felt her warmth encompass him like a hug. Just like she had done in his bedchambers only a few hours earlier, she dipped her head low and nodded.

It was all the encouragement Eris needed.

In a rare moment of confidence, Eris briskly twirled Lady Orlaith around only to catch her a second later with a hand on her lower back. The look of surprise on her face was deeply gratifying, and Eris had to bite back the smile that threatened to show.

He led her around the room, graceful and light, trying his best to mimic the way Mother had once spun him around the ballroom. He continued to add little flairs to the dance, surprising Lady Orlaith in small ways that pulled tiny smiles out of her. It was addictive, that ability to elicit such reactions. In his chest, he felt something like a ball of energy, bright and joyous, that poured into his dancing, as if it wasn’t him who was leading, but rather an outside force.

Around him, the leaves that decorated the banquet tables twirled and flitted across the surface. The flames danced and looped in the fireplace. With each breath Eris took in, he felt like the entirety of the Autumn Court exhaled out with him. Like the very nature of Autumn was within him and they were one.

Perhaps that was what Father had meant by giving back to the Mother and the Autumn Court.

It came as quite a shock to Eris when the music slowly came to an end and the dance was nearing the final steps. He bowed deeply once again to Lady Orlaith, and when he dared look over at Father to see his reaction, he was certain he would be wearing something that resembled pride.

But as he looked at the table where Father was sitting previously, he was met with only an empty chair. The only person still at the table was Cian who sat with his ruddy cheek rested on his fist, lips pressed so thin, Eris thought his teeth might shatter. 

Eris’s heart stopped at the sight. Where was Father? And why was Cian so upset? Had he done so horribly that the arranged marriage was already called off before the dance had even ended?

Head spinning, he blindly staggered to the outer edge of the room and slipped past a curtain, sliding slowly down a pillar until his knees were hugged tightly to his chest. He felt himself reflecting on every single little step he took with Lady Orlaith. Tried to replay the dance like he was an outsider, inspecting and dissecting every single word, every single action. What had he done wrong?

Hushed laughter pulled him from his thoughts and Eris stiffened where he was hiding. From behind the pillar, there was another deep laugh, followed shortly by Lady Orlaith’s familiar voice.

“He couldn’t even spin me without lifting up on his toes.”

More laughter. Some jostling on the other side of the pillar.

Eris buried his head in his arms. It was immediately apparent that she was talking about no one else but him.

“Laugh all you want, brother, but at least your future father-in-law is waiting for his daughter to be a century old before she’s married off. It felt wrong to dance with a child whose balls have yet to drop. We’ll be married before his voice even breaks.”

Eris’s cheeks flamed. All of his insecurities thrown right at his face. Was that the reason why Father wasn’t there? Because Eris was an embarrassment?

He stood quietly and somehow managed to escape without being seen. Maybe it was the conversation he just overheard or perhaps it was because he always heard people say alcohol made you forget things. Whatever the reason, Eris stumbled to the table where wine glasses were filled with a red wine, grabbed one, and took several long gulps until it was gone, ignoring the entirely childish instinct to recoil at the vile and sour taste. 

“Eris,” a voice called from behind.

He turned and immediately dropped the wine glass against the table.

“Father.”

He leveled Eris with a look, eyes gleaming. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Taking a step from behind Father stood a male with golden hair and skin so pale it was as if he never saw the rays of light. His jacket was such a deep shade of green that it nearly appeared black. On the sleeves were embroidered silver stars.

Eris couldn’t explain it, but something about the male made his insides twist into something uncomfortable.

“Eris, I’d like to introduce you to Keir. From the Night Court.”

The fear that zipped along Eris’s spine was fast and swift.

The Night Court.

Father smiled at his reaction, as if it gave him great satisfaction of being able to cause such distress. Eris silently begged both the Mother and the Cauldron that Keir couldn’t also sense his fear like Father.

“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” Eris said faintly.

Keir smirked and bowed his head and then turned to Father again, dismissed. “I’ll have a formal proposal written and delivered by tomorrow at the latest.”

Father narrowed his eyes. “Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Quite the turn around. It does make one wonder why a father is handing off his daughter in such haste.”

“It is not in haste, I assure you.” When Beron only raised his eyebrows, Keir continued. “She is beautiful and has the power of truth.” He stopped to glance at Eris, looking him up and down briskly. “And, might I add,” he said leaning in closer to Father, “pure.”

He winked and let the words hang in the air. It took Eris several more seconds before he realized what Keir was hinting at, and it was really only Father’s reaction that helped him fully comprehend the meaning. Despite the warming in his cheeks at the insinuation, Eris quickly imitated the smirk he hoped was identical to Father’s.

“It would form a solid alliance between my court and yours, High Lord.”

Eris held his breath, waiting. The silence between the males was loud.

“So it would,” Father finally conceded. He took a long sip of his wine. Swallowing, he continued. “And what of the High Lord of the Night Court? Is he in agreement with this proposal?”

“He was the one to suggest it, High Lord.”

Father nodded slowly, then pursed his lips. “It’s funny, isn’t it?” he asked, and Eris squirmed at the question, at the way his tone dropped. “That he can propose such an idea that would—what did you say? Form a solid alliance between our two courts? Yet, he sends a steward in his place. Is he so arrogant that he cannot come himself?”

Eris felt the blood leave his face at the suggestion. There was a fluttering in his stomach that was becoming unpleasant, and a dizzying motion rocked him on his feet. Around him, the room felt stifling. 

“He meant no disrespect, High Lord. It’s only that the arrangement is with my daughter that he thought it reasonable to send me in his stead.”

Father eyed him over the lip of his glass, skeptically.

“If it would suit you, we can all meet formally and discuss this further at a later date. Perhaps a fortnight.”

“I should think that best,” Father replied coolly.

“Very well.” Keir took a sip of his own wine. “I will see to it that the High Lord arrange an official meeting with you.”

“See that you do.”

Eris didn’t miss the slight twitch in Keir’s eye. The way the muscle in his jaw feathered.  “I look forward to meeting with you again,” he offered.

Father hummed. “Yes, I look forward to hearing more.”

They grasped forearms in farewell and Eris watched him disappear into the crowd, his mind spinning.

“Father?” he asked.

“It appears there has been a change in plans,” he said.

Eris swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth, took a deep breath to settle the floaty feeling in his head.

“What of Lady Orlaith?” he asked. “Won’t Cian be upset?”

Father’s expression hardened at the timid way his voice came out.

“And why should we care about Cian?”

His voice was dangerously low and calm, the kind of voice that usually came before a backhanded blow. If he didn’t respond the way Father wanted, it would mean a later visit to his office to await punishment.

Shifting on his feet, Eris felt his pulse race under his clammy skin.

“Cian will want something.”

He surprised even himself when his voice came out strong and even. Father only stared at him to continue and Eris struggled with the sudden haziness in his head. He cleared his throat.

“But, Cian is also a boot licking bastard, so if you offer him something worth his time, he would be satisfied.”

He crossed his arms, ignoring the wave of nausea that surged up his throat, and looked over his nose at Cian from across the room, pretending as if he wasn’t bracing himself for any kind of physical retort that would leave his body aching. The seconds ticked on with no indication.

Just as he was about to try a different tactic, Father nodded and gave him a clipped, “very good, Eris.”

A warmth, quite unlike the kind that resulted from the sudden nausea earlier, rapidly spread across Eris’s cheeks and ears. He ducked his head as Beron leaned down to hiss in his ear.

“The Night Court is nothing but Illyrian brutes and bastards, Eris. You must always be careful with them.”

His breath smelled strongly of the wine Eris had chugged as it fanned across his cheeks. The scent alone made his stomach swoop so violently that Eris very nearly pushed his palm up to his mouth to stop from retching on Father’s shoes.

Father straightened and smirked at Eris’s face, devoid of any color, then nodded and made his way toward Cian on the other side of the ballroom.

As soon as he was out of sight, Eris wasted no time in winnowing straight to his bathing chambers. His insides twisted as he landed hard on his knees in front of the toilet, and then all at once, everything came back up, smelling of the wine he guzzled earlier.

When he finally emptied his stomach, his mouth tasted acidic and sour, not so much different from the feelings he felt tangled up in his chest. He took a deep breath, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and felt the cool porcelain of the toilet seat under his sweat soaked forehead.

The Night Court. 

More flurries and twists continued to thread inside his stomach. This time for another reason entirely. 

It was one thing to be promised to someone in Autumn. They held the same beliefs, celebrated the same holidays. And at least he had time to process it. He’d always known it was going to be Lady Orlaith since he was a youngling.

But now? It felt as though someone pulled the rug right from underneath Eris and he was falling.

Truth be told, Eris didn’t know a lot about the Night Court—no one did. But he knew of the Hewn City where Keir resides. Of the violence and living nightmares. And now he was expected to marry into that?

Eris’s hands shook as they pushed his hair back. The things he would do to end this, to sever it. To postpone it, even. There had to be some way to get out of this arranged marriage. 

But then Father’s disapproval popped into Eris’s mind. The responsibility with being the Autumn Heir weighed him down, hard against his shoulders. Even the flames around him seemed to flicker with disappointment. 

Eris bit his lip, noting that sour taste again.

He straightened to his feet, flushed the toilet, and watched as the contents raced down the drain. 

He had a fortnight. Surely, he could come up with something.

[para-dots]

very random WBk headcanons

behold the underappreciated boys

ft. in order Hiragi, Banjo, Yanagida, Enomoto, Kusumi, Momose and Mizuki

Matsumoto, Umemiya, Tsubaki and Kaji (mentioned)

Not equal numbers of hcs for each char. (⁠・⁠_・⁠;⁠)

CWs (just in case) : mention of phobias and mental illness

ᯓHiragi Toma

⋮ is really good at saving up and handling money

⋮ only change his phone password when he feels it's necessary

⋮ he's been using the same password for years

⋮ is a quality over quantity type of guy

⋮ is bad at baseball

⋮ is a light eater even though he's not fussy

⋮ Yanagida and Matsumoto are top fans of his cooking

⋮ they often come over on weekends just to force ask him to make their favorite meals

⋮ out of the four heavenly kings, Hiragi has the closest relationship with Momose, Tsubaki coming in second and Mizuki the last

ᯓA little bit of Umehii dynamic

⋮ Hiragi rarely uses hand gestures whenever he's talking

⋮ he doesn’t usually express his feelings either

⋮ Umemiya, being an empath, is mindful to not pressure him to open up

⋮ one thing he noticed is that Hiragi seems to like doing his hair

⋮ so occasionally Umemiya will go and ask him if he mind styling it

⋮ although Hiragi act to be bothered, he actually finds it quite enjoyable

⋮ Hiragi is able to open up to him and talk about anything on his mind during these times when he sits still and silent for him.

ᯓBanjo Kanon

⋮ is ambidextrous (have you seen the way he threw Hiragi feets away with his left hand despite being in an disadvantage situation? maybe it's just his monstrous strength but whatever)

⋮ has high pain tolerance

⋮ gets bored easily

⋮ makes any situation worse more or less if not better, unintentionally, when he tries to help

⋮ is the kind of person who can't sit still

⋮ can't sit in a chair properly either

⋮ his handwriting screams mental illness is a mess, be grateful when it's legible

ᯓYanagida Jien

⋮ has the neatest handwriting in the whole school

⋮ will beat you in shodō (書道)(calligraphy) competition

(and will beat your ass in a fist fight)

ᯓSako Kota

⋮ is farsighted to a slight degree but he refuses to wear glasses

⋮ is photogenic

ᯓEnomoto Takeshi

⋮ is not aware that he has Acrophobia because it's not severe

⋮ if he eventually realizes this, he'd rather die than admitting it

ᯓKusumi Yuto

⋮ mumbles when he talks even though he doesn't intend to

⋮ can crochet 🧶

⋮ has gifted Kaji and Enomoto mini version of themselves as a token of friendship

ᯓMomose Takumi

⋮ has fairly moderate Mysophobia

⋮ likes wearing clothes that'll cover his body up as much as possible

⋮ can play flute

ᯓMizuki Saku

⋮ knows how to hack pretty much everything

⋮ although no one knows about it, he never uses it for ill intended reasons

⋮ is the type to give you flowers made by coding as a gift

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Homesick For You (And I Don’t Know Why)

or: d&d first date au

tw:cursing, first date, use of his real name

charlie rocks back and fourth on his heels, cranes his neck in a desolate parking lot and checks his watch for the fourth time.

He's early. this is normal-and you had just texted that you had left, a thirty minute drive for you, but still-he's nervous naturally.

he's had his handful of bad dates before-probably more bad than good-

and you seem great so far; can keep a conversation going, a good sense of humor but fuck he's thought that before about others too.

A tiny car he can't place the name of pulls into the parking lot, a heavy bass comes out of it and he bites the inside of his lip to keep from smiling.

He recognizes your profile immediately, even through tinted windows and the half blurry photos from your dating profile.

He gives you a second to get out of the car, not to seem to eager or anything like that-and his phone vibrates in his hand

you're slowly getting out of your car, your hands shaking as you type out a text to him:

hey charlie! it's-

no no-you backspace-that seems too excited for it

"Hey stranger!"

You jump at the sound of the voice you've only known from phone calls lately.

he comes to your side. there’s an awkward beat for two seconds before he speaks:

"So," he has to physically stop himself from his teeth chattering, all nerves, "Have you played before?"

you blow air out of your lips:

"define play."

he laughs: "i'll take it-"

"I mean like," you're talking over him, so nervous, "Like, with the people i went to high school with. But like, it was super casual-"

he's nodding, holding the door for you as you walk in and you wait in the threshold for him, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you in.

The bar is empty, just you two as you both slide into chairs next to one another, and immediately he's talking. it's more rambling, about his knowledge (or lack thereof) of IPAs, and alcohol in general and "Fuck, I'm gonna freeze and just point, i know it'"

Time moves fast, and before you know it, you're sliding into a chair next to Charlie, knees knocking together. Plans were last second; you hold a character sheet on a dimming phone as you crane your neck to check Charlie's out.

He was kind the entire time, his knees knocking into yours as he's over your shoulder, pointing and offering characters ("No, like. A Monk with religious guilt is a good idea-" or "No, I think if your bard played a flute badly that would arguably make it funnier.")

The game continues and his hand hovers over yours, slowly handing you dice, asking for you to shake it before he rolls it-at first you think it's a bad pick-up line, but when he rolls his second one of the game well-you have to help him when you can.

Charlie sighs dramatically and you expect the worst, something along the lines of: this is the worst date i've ever been on or it's embarrassing how this was your idea of a first date-

instead, he leans back in his seat, the front of the chairs leave the floor, are airborne when he speaks:

"You'll have to throw me."

If it wasn't for the smirk, it would be hard to place he's kidding by the straight face.

"I'm sorry," You're laughing, shaking your head, "I what?!”

He shakes his head, sighing, but the smirk remains:

"Throw me. You're going to have to chuck me at the monster."

"Oh," You're nodding, "I see, you have a death wish."

And finally he's laughing and it's nice- high pitched and loud, but it rips through him, the corner of his eyes squinting as he's clearly happy-it's nice, you find yourself wanting to make him laugh again,

"Look," he's ticking reasons off his fingers, "I'm small, right?"

"I-"

"And!" The second figure comes up, his other hand covers over your finger with a smirk before he can overthink it, "I can land on his head and poke his eyes out..

He pauses, shrugs and waves his hand in the air,

"Or something. Whatever."

And you're laughing again, his hand still on yours, neither of you making the move to move one another's-

"Or whatever," You laugh, "Charlie, you have a death wish.”

He laughs, holding his hands in the air, "Alright, I have a second character made, you caught me."

"You're serious," You're speaking low like it's a secret, your face close enough to him you can smell the liquor on his breath, see the beauty marks that liter and line his face-physically stopping yourself from reaching out and tracing the constellation on his face, "You want me to?"

He leans in: "It would be my honor."

His hand laces into yours under the table, and he's side eyeing you, like he isn't sure this is alright, this is a good first move, but when you're hand squeezes his back, he settles back in with a content look.

Charlie resists the urge to grab either side of your face, pull you close when you successfully chuck him on top of the undead monster, instead pumping his fist in the air-the game pauses there, members needing to leave, needing drink refills, it slowly gets quiet.

"Well," He sighs looking at you, "Who would've thought the big bad guy would be attracted to fire instead of being afraid of it?"

He's teasing, and you're laughing easily.

Your hand is still tangled in his, the pad of his thumb slowly draws circles around your hand, easy looping around again and again, some comfortable movement he does as he listens to you talk.

"I had fun," he says gently, "This might be the best first date l've ever been on."

"Well," You're smiling widely, "you're easy to impress."

"Maybe," he shrugs, "Maybe we could do this again?"

The pad of his thumb is calloused as it runs over the top of your hand and you're thinking how you could get use to this:

"Yeah," playing it cool long gone, "It's a date."