First Kiss Prompts

SM’S UNFAIR TREAMENT OF IDOLS

This might not get a lot of attention but I really hope people pay attention in order to help the situation. Recently, one member of nct (subunit nct dream) Huang Renjun, has been seen to be severely mistreated by his manager. First, it was telling him to stop talking about another member in nct (Winwin), then he was asked to move in a vlive to let another member be in the middle. Also, this manager forced him out of the car with his other members to find his own ride back, IN THE RAIN, without an umbrella!! Several fans have also reported that another member, Lee Jeno, was been groped by this manager. Reportedly, she kicked Renjun out of the car so she could sit next to Jeno. This behavior is absolutely inexcusable. This is the mental abuse of MINORS. Jeno has asked before to not be sexualized and just bc he won’t be a minor soon, does not allow people to have free range over a nineteen year old boy. Many EXO-Ls may also remember in the beginning of EXO, three Chinese members left and one tried to file a lawsuit against SM for mistreatment. This has been going on for YEARS and nothing has been done. Another thing to note is that this mistreatment and abuse has been focused on CHINESE members only. Korean members are shown preference. I ask that everyone please unfollow sm and speak out against SM enetertainment. Even if you don’t stan or follow these idols, this is the mistreatment of MINORS and PEOPLE ! Please don’t ignore the issue

𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝.

— time is merciless, especially when it comes to the love between an immortal and a short-life species.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

pairing. Dan Heng, Dan Feng x gn! reader (respectively) content. gender neutral! reader, reader is short-lived, angst, hurt/no comfort, hurt/comfort, reader dies, reader is reincarnated, 1.2 content is written from memory

word count – 8.6k

note: happy belated birthday, @particular-one! i was supposed to have this out ages ago but my cold had other plans… anyway! hope you enjoy it Carlyle!! i love you 💕

Birthdays are days of celebration; yet all you could do was mourn. Time passed by you like a stranger on a street, and yet it was no stranger, really. Your first encounter had been during your adolescent years, when your body began to morph into that which it would become for the duration of your adult life. And you knew these encounters, brief and fleeting, would continue until death would finally claim you. 

“Happy Birthday, [y/n]!” cheered your companions, illuminating the darkness of your reverie with their bright smiles. You blinked. Reality came blossoming back around you, blooming in iridescent hues as the present moment reformed into one picture that should be a fond memory in the making. 

Your brother Yingxing grinned at you, the aged-lines of his face creasing as he held out a cake for you. In cursive it read: HAPPY 25TH BRITHDAY, [Y/N]!! Baiheng clapped your shoulder, leaning over from behind you as she examined the cake intently. 

“Hey! Yingxing, you dolt! There’s a typo on the frosting!” Worry creased your brother’s brow and he examined the icing intently, clicking his tongue loudly upon seeing his mistake. His perfectionism of craft knew no bounds, for it even reached cake decorating as a look of deep dissatisfaction crossed his countenance. 

It was only when Jing Yuan burst into loud laughter that Yingxing’s displeasure abated, and he too joined the rest of the Quintet in laughing at his mistake. You forced a laugh, but it did not meet your eyes. 

“You only had one thing to do, Yingxing,” Jingliu chided, shaking her pale head with amusement. Yingxing raised a brow at his teacher, accepting her quip as a challenge. 

“Well, in my defence – I am not a baker by profession.”

“Oh, so you’re not a professional speller, either?” Jing Yuan retorted, his lips quirking into a smirk upon seeing Yingxing’s irritation. He had hardly reached manhood, yet Jing Yuan was already serving disrespect on a silver platter to all of the elder members of the High Cloud Quintet – much to their amused annoyance. Their bickering continued; without Jingliu’s inevitable intervention, it could last for hours unchecked. 

Upon watching this scene unfold before you, a profound sense of sadness filled you like a basin. Today should be a day brimming with happiness. It was your 25th birthday; you had just reached your prime, and you had plenty more fruitful years laying before you. In spite of that, a quarter of your life had already come and gone. You looked at your comrades wistfully. 

One hundred years. Such an inconsequential age to the Xianzhou natives. While reaching a century of age was normal for the species of the alliance, for a short lived being such as yourself living to one hundred would be the final milestone of your short life. One hundred years. It hung over your head like a noose, swinging tantalisingly in time’s passing. 

In the midst of this persistent exchange, Dan Feng stood wordlessly. The wind blew at his hair, causing it to undulate the same way as the water he controlled with cloud hymn. He regarded you intently with his viridian eyes, the only one not so jubilant in this moment of celebration. His lips thinned with concern; though the High Elder often claimed that he was hardly the expressive sort, you could read him like an open book. 

The five years you had spent together as companions may not have been long for one of his lifespan, but to you they lasted far more than that, with each year being its own little eternity. As such, Dan Feng had been studied by you continuously, the way an artist studies their muse. You knew every contour of his body, every thought that crossed his mind. 

And his troubles were perceptible – you just did not know what they were. 

The authoritative clearing of Dan Feng’s throat brought the other four members of the Quintet back to the room, reminding them of their purpose here, on this mild winter morning. 

“[y/n]’s cake…?” he asked in a low voice, his deadpan evident. He removed an arm from being tucked away in his long sleeves and indicated to the candles that were starting to topple over on the cake. They had been half consumed by the flame during their time teasing and bickering with the wax now melting onto the cake’s frosting. 

“Oh! Right,” Yingxing exclaimed. His cheeks heated, self-conscious at his own neglect and how easily Jing Yuan had baited him into yet another squabbling session. Behind him, Jing Yuan grinned and promptly received a light smack over the head from Jingliu. Despite his status as her student having ceased several years ago, old habits never fade.

Baiheng hummed, bringing all to a close. And the closest figures in your life banded together, singing a harmony celebrating your birthday. 

To you it felt more like a dirge, but you tried your best to smile along to their singing. Each ‘Happy Birthday’ only reminded you that another year had come and gone; though there was more to come, another leaf had fallen from the tree of your life. Soon, you would reach your middle years. Then the winter of your life. And finally, Dan Feng would be burying you. 

“Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday, dear [y/n],

Happy Birthday to you!” 

You smiled away the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks as the basin containing your sadness overfilled, and continued listening to your companions’ singing. It was a disservice to their effort and love for you, thinking such morbid thoughts on a day that they had taken so much care in preparing. You hadn’t realised that the singing had stopped until you felt the piercing gaze of the five of them on your person. A bashful colouring of red dusted your complexion as the attention drew towards you magnetically. 

Noticing this, Yingxing quickly pushed your cake towards you, the expectant smile on his lips mirrored another four times by the other members of the Quintet. Inhaling quickly, you proceeded to blow out the candles of your cake all in one go. It was mere superstition in your culture that doing so would result in your wish coming true, but you made a wish nonetheless. I wish that I do not have to die, while the others live on together. 

They cheered loudly. Baiheng swiftly snatched the cake from Yingxing’s and ran over to one of the canopied tables in the garden to cut it, her actions accompanied by the loud growl emanating from her stomach. Jing Yuan followed quickly, seemingly eager to taste the cake that Yingxing had laboured over for so long – probably to find some flaw just to incite him further. The white haired swordmaster followed her student, leaving only yourself, Dan Feng and Yingxing beneath the stars. 

Dan Feng walked over towards you. Were it not for the strong aroma of lotus and sea-salt that followed the Vidyadhara, you would not have known of his approach; each footfall of his was lighter than a droplet of rain. His sinuous azure tail wound itself around your waist, securing you firmly in place. Your hand ran itself along the hard ridges of his scintillating tail and from beside you Dan Feng released a loud exhale. 

The High Elder’s desire to have you alone was palpable. Mumbling a quick ‘excuse me’, Yingxing departed as well. However, before he left, he glanced over his shoulder at you, an expression of melancholy understanding on his face. 

While it remained unspoken between the both of you, he felt it too; the tired lines around his eyes assured you of it. The quiet, looming dread that companies your ephemeral lifespan. You could see it on Yingxing’s countenance as well, the silent yearning for more time. Yet the greedy are never rewarded, and are forced to live with what little they have.

As Yingxing left, Dan Feng laced his fingers through yours. He tilted his head as he glanced over at you. Dan Feng tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, using it as an excuse to place a soft kiss against your temple. Beneath his frosty gaze, you felt ready to be swept away by the currents of his blue irises. 

“Are you all right, my love?” he murmured, lips warm against your skin. You did not look at him. Instead, your eyes were fixed on the rest of the Quintet, who were drinking and feasting under the night sky, their jovial laughter disrupting the night’s silence. 

“I’m fine, Dan Feng…” he raised a slender eyebrow dubiously “Really!” Raising your voice emphatically, you gave his side a playful nudge.

Even if Dan Feng knew you were lying he didn't press the matter – for now, at least. It was just the two of you, standing there in quiet bliss beneath the sea of stars. You leaned your body against his, resting your head on his shoulder like he was your own pillar. From the corner of your eye, Dan Feng’s thin lips curved into a smile at your action. Against yours, his body was cool, but gradually grew enveloped by the warmth emanated by your own body. 

Small moments like these, though seemingly insignificant, held the most weight. You had to make the most of such occasions when you had such little time to appreciate them. It remained unspoken between you two, save for the most intimate of moments shared between you, behind closed doors. Only then would a certain hunger arise, a deep famine for more time that would manifest through urgent kisses, a lack of words and breaths. 

During such moments, you had come to learn that contrary to the stoicism with which he carried himself, Dan Feng was a greedy man with an insatiable appetite. His visage of meticulously upheld composure fell through whenever the two of you were alone, in times like these. 

In a swift movement, his tail spun you around so that you collided with the wall of his chest. Despite his manhandling, Dan Feng’s arms held you tenderly, and he looked down at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, that he would cast aside everything for your sake entirely. The intensity of his regard caused your gaze to slip from his, down towards the dew littered grass that glittered in the moon’s light. For a moment, all was silent in your vicinity. That was, until Dan Feng’s deep chuckle reverberated through the chilly air. 

You felt his eyes piercing your form like the spear he carried into battle. Dan Feng grasped your chin lightly with a single hand, bringing your face close to his so that you had no choice but to look into the deep pools of his eyes. In the pallid moonlight his skin gleamed, almost opalescent. His lips shone as if he had drunk from the moon itself, and as he lowered them onto yours, you swore you caught a taste of the moon on his tongue. 

Each movement of his lips was slow and precise; kissing you had become an art that Dan Feng had striven to perfect. His kiss silenced the morbid thoughts accompanied by your birthday; as his tongue slid your mouth, the haunting idea of your death was exorcised. All of your thoughts and senses became consumed by one singular entity: Dan Feng. 

The kiss persisted, and slowly your stores of oxygen depleted. Lost in the moment, Dan Feng seemed not to notice this until you bit down on his lower lip. He groaned, roused from the hypnosis of your lips as he pulled away from you. A loud gasp escaped your lips following your divergence. Dan Feng smirked, only hastening the already frantic beating of your heart. 

You returned his smile, and something in him snapped. Dan Feng’s eyes widened a fraction, cold fire burning white-hot as he eyed your slightly puffy lips. He angled his head, about to dive back into devouring your lips when a loud exclamation drove a knife through the tension between you. 

Baiheng cupped her mouth, shouting, “[y/n]! Dan Feng! Come on already! Jing Yuan will have eaten all the cake by the time you come over here!” 

A shadow flickered over Dan Feng’s expression as the air around you chilled. This was short lived, though. Your giggle interrupted Dan Feng’s momentary annoyance, and he glanced over at you when you brushed your hand against his arm reassuringly. 

“There’s always later, my love. For now, let’s be with our friends, okay?” Dan Feng’s lips pursed and his tail coiled tighter around your waist. However, he exhaled, nodding as his hold on you relinquished. You did not miss the annoyed flick of his tail, though. 

He pulled away and kissed your forehead – the gentle branding of his lips against your skin a loving reminder that you were his until death claimed you. 

“Happy Birthday, [y/n]...” Dan Feng murmured, his voice low as if your love were a secret from the universe itself, so precious that not even the wind could hear the affection in his cold voice. With that, you departed from your little bubble hand-in-hand, promptly rejoining your friends for a long night of celebration. 

Time is a one way street. You can never move backwards, only forwards. And you were traversing it at a far more rapid pace than your long-living companions. You held onto Dan Feng tightly, an idealistic attempt to ground yourself in time’s swift currents. Perhaps if you held on tightly enough death would pardon you. Such thoughts circled your mind, forming a deep vortex of morbidity that inevitably pulled you back down to the pits despair. Indeed, they always plagued you at your highest moments, or at your calmest. 

You yearned for sleep, but whenever you closed your eyes you grappled with the fear that you might not open them again, only for them to droop shut with fatigue. This cycle had persisted for several hours, indicated by the movement of shadows across your bedroom walls. As the moon’s light travelled the room, they would herd themselves away from the pale light, festering in the darkest corners of your bedroom to resume their bleeding dances.  

Dan Feng hardly stirred beside you during this time. He was the deepest sleeper you had ever known, but you still shuffled in the bed with the utmost care as you sat up. Brushing aside the strands of hair sticking to his face, he seemed almost carved out of marble, his face the pinnacle of serenity. You envied it. If only the same could be said for you. Only at night, when truly alone with your thoughts, would the beast of your mortality plague you, fears of your eventual demise weighing down your heart, and imbuing it with a deep-set hopelessness. 

What would happen when you died? A quarter of your life had already passed, and for an immortal another three-quarters of a century was a laughable amount of time. Would he find someone new? No, another thought pestered your mind: would Dan Feng even stay with you throughout the duration of your life? When you grew old and inevitably ugly, what then? Your throat constricted and tears teased your eyes, welling into giant droplets that you fought back with all your willpower. You wanted to laugh, to cry, though no sound escaped you. None would. 

Dan Feng’s slow breaths were your only anchorage in these dark, nocturnal moments. You listened to his rhythmic inhale with the same fervour as one would a sermon, with his existence your entire creed. More than that; he was your entire world. So as to cleanse these macabre thoughts, you lightly brushed your lips against his. Only, you had not expected for your kiss to be reciprocated. 

Dan Feng held the back of your head, pushing your lips onto his even further so that your swirling tongues could become one. His lips were cool and firm, extinguishing the anguished fires blazing within you and igniting a rapid fluttering in your heart. Time’s trickling froze in that bedroom with that kiss. Your thoughts were drowned and all you heard was the mingling gasps of your intertwined breaths. 

The silent moon was the sole witness to your love, almost as if she were your officiator. 

He moved a hand to the small of your back, gently pulling him closer to you so that your chests pressed together. Dan Feng smiled against your lips as he felt your body instinctively relax against his; it was second nature, by this point. You fit together perfectly, exactly like corresponding pieces – was this, perhaps, what Baiheng had meant when she spoke of soulmates?

Much to your dismay, Dan Feng removed his lips from yours. A tiny blush dusted his cheeks and he looked up at you through sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes. Dan Feng’s voice was heavy with drowsiness as he spoke. 

“Could you not sleep?” he whispered, sighing heavily as you peppered a trail of kisses down his jaw, sloping downwards to his neck. You moved away almost as fast as you had descended, looking down at your boyfriend before silencing him with a kiss. It was not met with your expected reception; Dan Feng pulled away from you, all that remained to connect you being a small strand of saliva tying you together like a string of fate. 

“Do we really have to talk…?” you replied, lowering your voice elusively. Slowly, you ran your hands through the long ebon strands of his hair, eliciting a low rumble from the High Elder’s throat. He cocked an eyebrow, then grabbed a hold of your wrist and used that momentum to spin you over so that he was leaning over you. There was nowhere to run. 

Clouds obscured the solitudinous moon outside, submerging the room in even more darkness so that all you could see was the soft, feline glow of Dan Feng’s eyes. Though you could hardly see him, he was all around you; his tail curled around your leg, his hair brushing against your cheeks, his breaths penetrating the gloomy silence of the night. 

“What’s on your mind, [y/n]? …Is it what bothered you earlier tonight?” Dan Feng murmured, his hot breath fanning your lips like a caress. The options diverged before you like a river. Be truthful. Or lie.

 You sighed, both being as bad as the other. Eventually you settled for the honest approach. Dan Feng’s crystalline gaze was sharply perceptive, and you did not want to upset him by lying. Already, from the narrowing of his eyes he seemed to be clearly aware of this inner-debate of yours and patiently awaiting the verdict. 

Your mouth opened and you inhaled deeply. Trepidation weighed down on you like a boulder, but the burden felt instantly lightened as you began to speak quietly. 

“Yingxing had his first white hair today… Did he tell you? I can’t stop thinking about it…” The sheets rustled as Dan Feng sat up, propping himself up with his elbow. His eyes were lucent amongst the shadows, alert and attentive of your words. “I know, it probably sounds silly…” Dan Feng placed a finger against your lips. 

“Don’t say that, [y/n]. I’ll gladly listen to anything you have to say. To answer your question: no, he didn’t tell me. Why, do you think he’ll look bad with white hair?” In another instance you would have laughed at the High Elder’s jab at your brother. But today was your 25th birthday, so naturally you were grieving. You laughed nonetheless, shakily and brimming with ill-contained emotion, the dam that contained it for so long growing dangerously close to bursting. Dan Feng sensed your unease and sat up further, taking you in completely as if you were a painting to study. Your voice was hoarse, the fragment of a whisper. 

“Will you love me even then? When my hair is white and my skin is wrinkled like parchment? Dan Feng… My love… I don’t think you understand how ugly I’ll become! There are plenty of long-lived individuals who would be much better suited to be your companion…! I-I’m sorry… I don’t deserve you…” The words just spilled out of your mouth, as did the tears from your eyes. Shamefully you hid your face in your hands, palms growing wet with your streaming, glistening tears. You were too scared to look at Dan Feng, lest you saw his facial expression; his silence already spoke volumes enough. 

His hands pried away those covering your face and the clouds parted, bathing Dan Feng in the lunar light that poured through the windows. Your breath hitched; he looked beautiful, even when his countenance was sharp with severity, as it was now. His thumbs wiped away your trickling tears, expression softening marginally as he did so. Dan Feng held your face between his hands and he ran his slender fingers along your damp cheeks slowly, comfortingly. Your hand found his, your face leaning into his gentle touch. 

“You have nothing to apologise for, [y/n]...” Dan Feng consoled softly as his brow furrowed, “I often find myself thinking of such things too… Just as I had no choice in being the Imbibitor Lunae, you had no choice in being born as a short life species. I… We just have to make the most of the time we have, my love,” you were promptly silenced by Dan Feng when you opened your mouth to reply, as he continued, 

“Our love cannot be contained by death. I will find you in your next life, dear [y/n].” Dan Feng spoke with utter conviction; you understood why he was so revered as the Vidyadhara High Elder, other than for his majestic power. From his authoritarian tone, cool collection – you could do nothing other than trust in his words; they were soothing, like fresh water to smouldering skin. You wanted to believe, and your hands found his. He interlaced his fingers with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them softly. The sealing of a promise. 

“[y/n]... I can see this has been bothering a lot. Honestly, I had wanted to wait for a more appropriate occasion, but I realised now there is none. All moments with you are as special as any other, so…” He relinquished you from his grip and reached over to his bedside table, from which he procured a small, ornately carved box. Cupping it in his palms, he extended it out towards you like an offering; his wagging tail belied his eagerness for you to open it, which you swiftly did. 

Your voice shook, “...Dan Feng…?” Turning your head, you looked at him through wide eyes, then back at the two jade pieces nestled within the velvet-lined box. They gleamed in the moonlight, highlighting each detail carved of such a quality that spoke of how much Dan Feng must have spent on the marriage items. You gaped like a fish, prompting Dan Feng to chuckle. 

“How about it, [y/n]...?” he asked tentatively. Joyful tears pearled in your eyes. You nodded vigorously, leaning forward to kiss him once more. 

Dan Feng gladly met your kiss, laughing quietly against your lips as you tangled your hands in his hair. Cupping his cheeks, you kissed him again and again, to make up for the years’ of kisses you would miss. Both of your faces grew moist from your coalescing tears; your joy was palpable, and the moon’s light brightened, almost as if celebratory of your union. His tail wrapped itself around you; coupled with his arms, it brought you into a tight embrace that you gladly welcomed. 

His body may have been cold against yours, but his heart blazed like a hearth. You propped your chin on his shoulder, closing your eyes as the final tear fell. 

“We will transcend lifetimes, my love,” he mumbled against your ear, giving the lobe a quick, possessive nip before burying his head in the crook of your neck. He pulled you back down onto the bed, his movements growing more and more lethargic as sleep drew its curtain about him. 

Dan Feng exhaled freely, settling back down beside you in a deep slumber. Tail curling around your waist, he pulled you close and securing you in place by draping an arm across your torso. 

“I will find you in your next life.”

Those words played themselves back in your head when you closed your eyes; the promise of eternal love soothing all of your doubts, for the time being. You clung to each syllable like it were some incantation that would secure your immortality – blasphemy be damned. A smile formed on your lips. Eventually, finally, you plunged into a dreamless sleep. 

As the saying goes: when it rains, it pours. That was certainly the case today. 

Lowering your head, you stormed out of the room leaving behind lit candles and faltering smiles. Above you, the skies were a sombre shade of grey, lowering themselves over the world like a funeral pall. The incoming downpour was a welcome sight; each droplet of rain disguised your weeping. 

Instinctively your finger-pads found the cool jade piece and you ran your hands across the carved accessory that marked you forever as Dan Feng’s from the day he gave it to you, a year ago. You funnelled as much comfort from that action as possible, though today it was infinitesimal. 

What had they not understood about you not wanting to celebrate your birthday this year? Not even Yingxing – someone who should have understood your reluctance to mark another year off your mortal lifespan. Dan Feng had just invited you for afternoon tea as he claimed that the Preceptors had given him a day’s respite for your sake. You were looking forward to a quiet afternoon with your spouse. Not streamers, beaming smiles and presents. 

Your heart lurched in your chest. Before you could speak or comprehend anything, you had already turned tail and ran. 

“[y/n]! Wait!” Dan Feng called after you. His voice shattered the damp silence provided by the afternoon mist, by the gentle fall of rain. It went unheard by you; if anything, his words only served to spur on your hasteful exit. The calm broke and the storm descended. 

Lightning forked across the sky, violently illuminating the meticulously curated gardens of your home. The rain poured, crashing down onto the world viciously. A roll of thunder deafened everything beneath the sky; in that time, Dan Feng, swift as a torrent of water, stood behind you. Your body conceivably stiffened and you drew in a deep breath. 

Two hands placed themselves firmly on your shoulders, spinning you round so that you were face to face with your husband. Dan Feng’s eyes blazed with cold fury, behind which lay only a deep, cavernous sorrow. 

“You’re really being a brat, you know that? Why can’t you just make do with what little time we have together?!” he demanded, his grip on your shoulders tightening. His face twisted with despairing desperation and from his expression it was evident that he had tormented himself just as much over such thoughts as you. He huffed loudly, his exhale forming like dragon’s smoke in the glacial air. 

“I love you so much, Dan Feng… But I hate my birthday! Each one is a morbid reminder that I can’t be with you forever, that my time is running out! Of course you wouldn’t understand that, since you have what, at least another five centuries ahead of you!” you exclaimed, responding with equal fervour, balling your fists as you did so. It was like talking to a wall, an impenetrable fortress; Dan Feng was stubborn to a fault, and your words only caused his expression to darken like the clouds above.

Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled. 

“How. Dare. You.” Dan Feng’s tail swished warningly, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. Never before had you seen his anger directed at you; were you not equally as upset, you would have been terrified by the sight of the High Elder like this – but your anger was your shield, and you returned his narrow-eyed glare. 

“Do you think this is easy on me either, watching time erode at you? Knowing that I will have to bury the love of my life, while I have to persist, alone in this aeon-forsaken world?” And there it was. Dan Feng’s smile had always faltered upon the mention of his position as the Vidyadhara High Elder, a slight rigidity entering his frame; you had not known such sentiments ran so deeply that they intertwined themselves with that of your relationship. 

“This is about you… Isn’t it? You don’t want to be the High Elder anymore,” you said quietly, looking up at him through rain-dusted lashes. Dan Feng recoiled, as if struck by an invisible blow that was the truth of your words. Dan Feng’s lip trembled and he averted his gaze. The downpour lightened, with the rain now only gently falling on you rather than lashing you. By now your clothes were almost soaked through, but you did not mind. 

“I would rather live a short life with you than a solitary long one. That is what it is, being a Vidyadhara,” his voice had lost its previous edge; it was filled with centuries’ worth of pain, so much so that it was almost incomprehensible to you. Dan Feng’s tail and ears drooped, and he appeared almost dejected. 

You reached forward and ran a hand over his jade piece with such care that it could have been taken for his heart. Dan Feng looked down at you, lips parted slightly in surprise. The smile you gave him was sad, yes, but filled with so much love that it could fill all the vacant space in the universe. 

“I know our situation isn’t ideal… But we just have to make the most of it, right?” Dan Feng pursed his lips, but slowly inclined his head in agreement. A small smile had settled on his lips too and he brought you in for a tight embrace, one you happily returned. The two of you stood there, in the rain, holding onto each other so securely you were like shipwrecked souls clinging to a spar. 

Placing a light kiss on your head, Dan Feng rested his chin against it. You felt the deep, soothing vibrations of his voice against you as he spoke.

“[y/n]... I’m sorry for losing my temper around you. It should never have happened in the first place, but I can assure you it never will happen again…” he sighed deeply, “I just wanted to see you happy today… I suppose if I had listened to you and not lied that would have been the case.”

“I know you only had good intentions, Dan Feng… It’s okay. But you should know that simply being with you makes me happy,” you responded softly. And it was true. No amount of material gain, or anything else of the sort could compare to the happiness Dan Feng imbued you with. He was not the sun, but rather the moon of your life: gentle, thoughtful, calm and beautiful. You needed little else in your short life. 

Though the clouds still lingered in a dense cluster, lucent rays of sunlight streamed through. The light bathed the world a honey-like gold, causing the remaining rainwater to glow, its droplets like yellow topazes. Birdsong ensued, a melodic declaration that the worst had passed. 

Dan Feng tilted his head upwards, eyes glued upon the heavens. Then, his placid gaze returned to you and he took your hand. 

“How about we have tea tomorrow afternoon? Just the two of us,” Dan Feng suggested hopefully. Your expression immediately brightened upon hearing this, and your smile broadened. 

“Really? I’d love that! But I promised Yingxing I’d join him on an excursion tomorrow, so it will have to be later. I hope that’s okay.” Dan Feng kissed your cheek, then your lips. 

“Of course it’s okay,” he whispered, face barely inches apart from yours. Dan Feng then glanced back at where your party was being held, mischievousness glimmering in his eyes like his scintillating scales. “They probably don’t miss us… How about we ditch them?” 

You mock-gasped, covering your mouth theatrically. 

“And leave our friends behind?” Dan Feng smirked. He secured an arm around your waist and hoisted you up, so that he was carrying you bridal-style. 

“They’ll understand,” Dan Feng said as if it were the simplest fact in the world. In a way, it was. Your love transcended every other aspect of life, even death. 

The tea had been sitting there for some time. By now, the steam that arose from it was little more than a wisp, and when Dan Feng checked the temperature, the tea had almost gone cold. It was a brew best served hot, and the souring of its aroma indicated its prime drinking time had passed; Dan Feng would have to brew another cup for you, once you returned. 

An afternoon haze had settled upon the Luofu, granting it an almost dream-like quality as a cool breeze wafted through the half-open window. 

Ordinarily, Dan Feng would enjoy times like these; slow afternoons were his favourites if you were by his side, your head on his lap while he buried himself in a good book, or when the two of you would walk, hand in hand, through the gardens of your shared abode. But today, it was overrun by concern – just where were you? 

He rose from his seat, dusting his robes off before he approached the window. By the sun’s position in the sky several hours had passed since the agreed upon time for your meeting. Tardiness was uncharacteristic of you; Jing Yuan liked to joke that he had found his soulmate in you, for when Dan Feng liked to arrive five minutes early, you would arrive ten. He drummed his fingers against the window-sill and took a long inhale. Surely everything was okay… right? 

Outside, the zephyric wind rustled the trees, the blades of grass, and the small set of wind-chimes scattered around your garden. Dan Feng still recalled the day you had brought them home: a gift from Yingxing. As expected of the smith’s impressive skill, the objects sounded less like wind-chimes than a tiny orchestra playing at the whim of the breeze. Dan Feng closed his eyes, grounding his racing thoughts on each twinkling chime. The opening of the door roused him from his meditations. Dan Feng’s eyes snapped open, accompanied by the soaring hopes of your arrival. He turned, tail swishing and the smile forming upon his lips faltered. 

Yingxing’s face was pale and his cheeks hollow; dark circles shadowed his eyes, which were lined with fatigue. By the grim set of his mouth and pained eyes, Dan Feng’s heart plummeted. He left his spot by the window swiftly, going to greet his friend, though, based on his expression, a greeting wouldn’t be the only thing Dan Feng would receive from the smith. 

“Where’s [y/n]?” he asked slowly. Yingxing’s eyes were glassy, a near vacant expression about him. Dan Feng’s words caused light to re-enter his eyes, in which tears pooled. He opened his mouth to speak. No words came out. Panic surged within Dan Feng and he clasped Yingxing’s shoulder, his nails digging into his brother-in-law’s skin. 

“Where. Is. [y/n],” he repeated, employing all of his meditative training from the Preceptors to keep his voice level. Yinxging’s lip quivered, his brow creasing with profound guilt. His voice wobbled with ill-contained emotion. 

“We were… ambushed.” Yingxing’s words struck a lethal blow to Dan Feng, who was now already fearing the worst. He took a deep, calming breath. Hopefully, you were already in the hands of the Alchemy Commission, being treated for whatever wounds you had sustained. Hopefully. Dan Feng could only hope. 

“[y/n]... Didn’t make it back.” Dan Feng wasn’t sure where the sound came from – was it the breaking of his heart, or the shattering of his hope? His shoulders slumped, the first time the High Elder’s composure had collapsed in front of closed doors, not behind. The world grew quiet save for the frantic pounding of his heart. His sweet [y/n]... How could this have happened? 

He was completely oblivious to his grief, to its manifestation is pearlescent tears. Dan Feng’s body grew cold, almost glacial – far more so than his regular cold-blooded body heat. Waves of numbness caressed at his being, which he gladly welcomed. Anything to not feel. The tsunami of emotions licked at the back of his mind with its forked tongue, thankfully suppressed by his blank state. 

“We were able to recover their body, though,” Yingxing mumbled. Dan Feng’s eyes snapped back up to Yingxing, recovering from their momentary daze. The smith’s face was wet with tears; he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, and now blood trickled down instead. 

Your body was carted slowly into the room by his Vidyadhara attendants, who openly wept at the loss of you. Wherever you walked, kindness had followed; you had been loved by all, and now mourned by all. The way they clustered about your sheet-covered body, it appeared almost like a funeral procession. Upon witnessing this the final threads of Dan Feng’s composure snapped. 

“Everyone get out, now!” he barked, tail swishing warningly from side to side in jerky movements. The servants bowed, quickly scurrying out of the room after having deposited your body. Yingxing recoiled from the harshness of Dan Feng’s words, bracing himself by squaring his shoulders. Eventually, he lowered his head, nodding and turned to exit the room. Before he left, Yinxing stopped in his tracks. 

“I’m sorry.” The sincerity of his voice shook Dan Feng. Contempt boiled within him, rising like a sweltering geyser.  

“You should have taken their place,” Dan Feng hissed. Yinxging laughed mirthlessly. 

“I know. I’m not a very good brother, am I?” With those words left in the air, he left quietly, muffling his bawling. And Dan Feng was all alone with your corpse. 

Only then did the first sob escape him, an utterly foreign sound it was almost incomprehensible to Dan Feng. The tears slid down his cheeks like all the moments he had lost with you. His shoulders shook as he wept. Dan Feng wept, and wept. Vidyadhara tears were coveted for their beauty and rarity, yet there was nothing beautiful about this. You were dead, far before your time; and he was all alone. 

The sun was beginning its descent to the horizon, and Dan Feng’s heart ached, as did his eyes. With his sleeve, he wiped at the final droplets that weighed down on his lashes. His eyes were dry; there were no more tears left to cry. 

Dan Feng looked down at the table, at the tepid tea that you would never drink. Finally, he braced himself and looked over to the litter upon which you were stretched out. He got up. Each step he took towards it sealed your fate a little more, that you were in fact dead. Tentatively, he removed the muslin sheet covering you. 

Tears welled in his eyes once more, renewed grief crashing like waves on rocks. He thought he had been ready… But upon seeing your ashen face, eyes closed peacefully as if dormant, Dan Feng realised how gravely mistaken he was. With a shaking hand, he brushed a strand of hair away from your cold face. The final intimate gesture Dan Feng could give you, one so simple yet inherently painful that Dan Feng’s throat constricted, oxygen growing in short supply. 

As the High Elder, Dan Feng had been prepared from everything. From his hatching, he had endured gruelling training, with so much information drilled into him so as to ready him for any situation that may come to pass. And yet, the Preceptors had failed to teach him how to deal with a broken heart. Or the death of a loved one. 

Before you, Dan Feng had accepted the solitudinous life that accompanied being the Imbibitor Lunae. He would walk life’s street alone, and he was okay with that. Until you. Like the sun behind parted clouds, you had shown him unimaginable happiness, such that he thought unattainable in combination with his duties to the Luofu and the Vidyadhara. With you, he came to realise how empty his life has been; he had not been a man, merely a hollowed out puppet destined to carry out the will of the Elders and never his own. Until you. 

He stared down at you, clenching his fist so hard that his nails dug into his palms. Your serenity in death juxtaposed his own unrest; Dan Feng clenched his fist, a string of silent curses passing through his bereaved mind. 

Your death was a testament to time’s impatience. Sometimes, in its cruelty, it would take someone before their time – time was a greedy, merciless, being, gaining happiness from snatching such fleeting moments from its victims. 

Dan Feng cradled your body close to him, letting loose another series of sobs as he broke down into a million little pieces. Any semblance of composure had dissipated, leaving Dan Feng in this tangled mess of tears and emotions.  “Aeons… It wasn’t supposed to be you…!” He hollered, falling to his knees as if praying for your revival. 

 With the fire of his life extinguished, there was little else there to support him. Nothing, nobody, could ever come close to you. An irretrievable piece of himself had been lost that day, and his following collapse was little short of spectacular. 

Inevitably, you would come to learn of Dan Feng’s unravelling following your death, except not in this life.

You blinked, and the present moment blossomed. Time slowed. But it was too late. 

And thus, Blade’s cracked sword impaled itself within Dan Heng’s chest. He staggered backwards, spear falling from his grasp with a loud clatter. As his vision blurred his eyes sought yours once more. Your eyes met, and the shock on Dan Heng’s face receded, morphing into tranquillity. 

A scream rose up your throat and, forgoing everything, you ran towards Dan Heng. Only, Blade’s arm barred you and he roughly pushed you backwards. The crazed zeal in his bloody eyes blazed like a pyre when a bright light pierced the cloudy skies of Scalegorge Waterscape, subduing your protests against the Stellaron Hunter. 

There had been no time for tears; fear had been left behind on the Express when you had agreed to follow Dan Heng onto the Luofu. Before you, he changed, blooming into something wholly new, and no less beautiful. Though, as you beheld Dan Heng, your breath hitched; he was nothing short of ethereal. 

His onyx hair cascaded down his back, iridescent cerulean horns sprouting, resting upon his head like a crown. For Dan Heng was regal, and as you saw his sinuous tail, you gaped. Memories of another life plunged you into arctic waters, striking at your head with such force your knees sagged. Clutching your temple you squeezed your eyes shut, the splitting pain almost growing too much to bear. 

You felt Blade’s spiteful gaze land upon you, its intensity adding to the crushing weight that this sight of Dan Heng had provided you with. As you squinted through half-opened eyes and beheld Dan Heng’s Vidyadhara form, all you could see was Dan Feng. Except… 

The subtle differences awoke you from the memories’ clutches. This was not the Vidyadhara who walked in the gallery of your memories, like a faded canvas. Though they originated from the same muse, there was no longer the arrogant arch to his brow, nor the playfully defiant curve of his lips. 

No matter what Blade had insinuated earlier, this was not Dan Feng. This was Dan Heng, blazing like a vengeful sun. Your Dan Heng. You recalled the promise of the man in your dreams, now fulfilled. A single tear dripped down your cheek, like a fallen star. 

Slowly, Dan Heng lowered back down to the ground. Shoving past Blade, you sprinted towards him, tackling him into a hug. Dan Heng flinched, taken by surprise from your actions, but his body eased against yours as he enveloped his arms around you. He smelled of seawater and fresh lotus flowers, though the undertones of the papery scent from all the books he consumed still lingered. 

Your reunion was brief, though, much like the fleeting caress between a shooting star and the moon. A youthful voice penetrated the stillness, breaking the calm lingering before the storm. Regretfully, you pulled away and beheld Yanqing, the young Lieutenant of the Cloud Knights.

From the way in which his amber eyes pierced daggers at Blade, it was evident he had been in hounding pursuit of the Stellaron Hunter. His eyebrows raised, mouth parting a little; clearly he had not expected to see Dan Heng here, in this form. You supposed he saw another in place of the guard of the Express, for his eyes narrowed dangerously. 

His momentary lapse subsided, and determined focus descended over his young face.

“You…” you were not sure to whom his words were directed at specifically, but both Blade and Dan Heng raised their chins in acknowledgement of his address.  “Two wanted criminals of the Luofu, all in one place!” he exclaimed. To your surprise, the lieutenant drew his sword, extending it in challenge to the three of you. 

You glanced over at Dan Heng. His face hardened, bracing for an incoming battle; Yanqing would not let you pass otherwise, and you had to reconvene with your Express crewmates. As such, there seemed to be no other alternative other than using force. You drew your sword, and the three of you plunged into battle. 

There was a blur beside you. Blade descended into the battle. The three of you fought side by side against the lieutenant, and a flash of the past flickered before you. Except, in place of Blade’s dark mane of hair, there was white; in place of Dan Heng, there was Dan Feng, the High Elder of the Luofu and the Imbibitor Lunae. You couldn’t restrain the smile playing on your lips. 

It was exactly like the old days, oh so long ago. Though in different forms, with time having twisted fate’s weave over you, the three of you fought, united once again. 

The battle persisted. For such a young man, he fought surprisingly well, standing his own against the three of you. Blood rushed through your body, hasty breaths allocating the much needed oxygen to propel you onwards. You ducked, you dived, fighting with all your strength. Though, you were hesitant to injure the young boy. 

Beside you, Dan Heng fought with unparalleled grace. Each movement, each stroke of cloud hymn was executed with the utmost precision. If battle were an art, Dan Heng was creating a masterpiece. His flowing limbs were more like the undulations of water, contrasted to the harsh, vicious movements of Blade. 

It was ironic how in this battle, you felt your safest. Beside them you knew you would come out victorious. 

Your focus greatened, your periphery shrinking so that you could only see what stood before you: your opponent. His hair slipped from his ponytail and his clothes were slightly dishevelled. Yet he persisted, determined to detain the two criminals of the Luofu. For Dan Heng’s sake, you could not let that happen. 

You would not allow yourselves to be parted in this life.

Your cheeks reddened as a chill descended upon the air, coagulating in the form of several glacial swords around Yanqing. Blade halted, a question forming on his lips. You knew it before he even spoke – where had he learned such a technique from? 

Yanqing ignored the question, his resolve unfaltering. His intentions were as clear as the ice of his swords, and you knew that this would not end well. You reconvened with Dan Heng; unlike you, he appeared completely unscathed, looking more pristine than ever. 

“Are you all right?” you asked breathlessly. He responded with a curt nod. 

Your body moved before you could reply. As Yanqing launched a barrage of crystalline ice shards towards Dan Heng, you barrelled into him, shoving him out of the way. An apology formed in your mind; you hoped that he would forgive you, and your lovesick stupidity. Yanqing’s attack struck, but not at its intended target. 

Your vision was blanketed with darkness, and a pair of strong arms grasped you. Was it death’s embrace? Had it missed you so much that it had come to collect you early, once again? Everything was soon answered. 

Light flickered behind your eyelids and you blinked tiredly. Dan Heng looked down at you, eyes wide with concern. At their reddened corners sat several fat tears, though he refused to let them fall. You smiled. Time had been merciful, this time. 

Reaching upwards, and stirring him from his panicked reverie, you wiped away the tears from Dan Heng’s eyes. The relief that washed over him was palpable; his body sagged, the tension cleansed. 

“Oh thank the aeons,” Dan Heng breathed, bringing your bruised body close into his chest. You wished to hug him back. Though when you attempted to move your arms, pain shot up your arms like vines. 

“Please don’t move, [y/n]... You’re hurt,” he said softly. You only nodded, trying your best to lean into your lover’s embrace. The two of you remained like that for several minutes, both silently thanking the aeons, or whatever the cosmic forces were that had granted you more time. 

You looked up at Dan Heng, absorbing every detail of his face. His lucent, azure eyes, his long lashes, the sharp planes of his face that held a certain softness when viewed from a specific angle and his oh so kissable lips. Of course, there were new features as well laced over the old such as the slight angulation to his eyes, the lightening of his irises and most evidently: his ears, horns and tail. 

He was both Dan Feng and yet not, a paradox that your recent memories of your past life struggled to discern. Here stood Dan Heng: the guard of the Astral Express, and your stoic and endearing boyfriend. However, the question still lingered. Without addressing it, you would forever remain in a state of uncertainty. So, you asked, 

“Do you… Remember?” Speaking was an effort, from the way your chest erupted in pain as you spoke, you were certain several ribs had been broken. Your question came out as more of a wheeze, but Dan Heng answered nonetheless. His jaw was set, his countenance contemplative. 

“Only fragments. How he felt, more than anything. When I close my eyes, I can see your smile, though – from back then.” Dan Heng was not Dan Feng, but the former High Elder was still an inextricable part of the latter’s life. The tiniest imprints remained of Imbibitor Lunae, like the diminishing echoes of one’s footsteps in a gallery. He could never fully escape his shadow, for without it he would have never found you again. 

In spite of your painful chest, you inhaled sharply. 

“So… You know what happened.” Dan Heng’s lips thinned in grim affirmation. 

“Yes,” he replied softly, “I’m never letting go of you again, [y/n]. That’s a promise.” His grip around you tightened a fraction, a reflection of his conviction. As Dan Heng nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, cradling you gently, he smiled, reaching an understanding with his former self. 

Although Dan Feng’s experiences, much like those of your past self, were a series of blurred motions overruled by the emotions evoked at the time, he could recall the warm embrace of someone dear to the former High Elder. And that same comfort could be found in yours. 

note: i won my 50/50 for Dan Heng so this ended happily :)

© bladesmuse 2023 - do not copy, repost or translate my writing

taglist: @c0metes , @catzpawn , @elf-osamu , @lunaescient , @yanqingisim

[ 12:56 AM ] — rin itoshi

✩ ˛˚ . notes— because i headcanon that rin is a lightweight and when he's drunk he becomes a completely different person.

"hey, don't fall asleep here, it'd be a hassle to get you to bed"

rin takes note of your feather-light voice. he feels lightheaded and warm and giddy. his shoulders relax and heartbeat calms at the way your fingers lightly caress his cheek. he lets himself lean into your touch, towards your warmth that's almost beginning to lull him to sleep.

"mmh... 'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes" he slurs when your fingers brush his lips and rest there, you chuckle at the boyish grin he offers at the touch.

"you always say that rin, you shouldn't drink so much when you know you're a lightweight"

rin playfully bites your fingers at that, then kisses them, "don't call me that" he whines in a childish manner, puffing his flushed cheeks in a pout.

"that's your name, rin, what else am i supposed to call you?"

you suppress the laugh threatening to spill from your lips when rin attempts to send a glare your way. his bangs fall over his half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed lightly. it's amusing— the way he looks offended. a drunk rin pouting in all his glory, crimson blooming on his face and ears. it's a stark contrast to the perpetual scowl he has on his face.

his usual sharp gaze, now unguarded and soft is scanning every miniscule detail of you. he's confused and frowning and you want to run your fingers through his hair and ease those worry lines on his forehead.

and when you do, rin almost curls up in your lap like a cat.

he's big and heavy and drunk and he's completely forgotten all about that.

"don't call me by my name," he says. "tell me what you always call me"

you're sure you won't ever catch rin slipping like this again, and you don't waste a second to grab your phone and point it at him, "and what do i always call you?" you hate ( not really ) to tease him like this, but a flustered rin is a rare occurrence.

"call me your love" rin nuzzles closer to you, "tell me 'm your love".

there's an adorable desperation in the way his fists close on the fabric of your shirt, the way he holds you firmly close to him, and he's finally gazing up at you like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"rin, my love, let's please get to bed?"

you laugh at the way his eyes light up like a thousand suns. he parts his lips to speak, but not before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips "say it again"

"love, you're drunk, you really should just get to bed"

rin's smiling like a lovesick idiot, "then come with me" and you're smiling because it's all being recorded. he takes it as a yes, and when he's practically dragging you with him to your shared bedroom, rin's still smiling like an idiot and you're still laughing.

maybe you'll save this recording for when he's sober.

© seimirii 2023

MIDNIGHT HAZE — rin itoshi.

— notes ⨾ ive been shying away from posting this for too long now. [ sensual/making out ] and heavy on the details hahahs

Rin takes note of the way you're shrinking in your seat beside him, how your arms are protectively tucked in your sides and the subtle but sharp inhales.

from his peripheral vision, he can see that you're gnawing on your bottom lip, gulping hard to swallow your sniffles because he knows you don't like to be seen crying. which is why he's not sure why he's in his living room with you beside him at 2 am watching some sappy sad movie you picked. it's been an hour already since you started your movie marathon and he could've suggested you watch a horror movie instead— but he didn't, and he thinks he regrets it now.

He sighs, pausing the movie and reaching for the box of tissues he's glad he set on the table just in case. he offers it to you, smiling a little to himself when you hesitantly take it, as if you're still not ready to accept you're crying.

“you're such a crybaby” he says. by now a few tears are falling down your cheeks, leaving a damp trail behind in their wake.

“shut up, I'm not. i don't cry often, i swear”, you whimper with the wobble of your lip, and rin laughs. it's the irony of this scenario that swells his heart. you're looking at him with narrow, glassy eyes and warm hues setting on your skin. your words are meant to be firm and legitimate, but you're voice is hushed and low.

“okay, crybaby” he teases, and you pout.

his room glows in a faded shade of honey with the paper lamp you bought him as a housewarming gift. there's nothing but the sound of his steady breathing, and your quivering one. a touch of the scent of lemongrass from the air freshener lingers in the air and rin realises he's been staring at you.

there's still a dampness sticking to your cheeks and rin wants —such a treacherous thing to do— to trace his finger along the trails. feel the smoothness and warmth of your skin. when you realise he's looking at you, embarassment blooms in shades of fuchsia, “stop staring at me like that.”

rin hums. he heard you, doesn't think much about it. and before he realises what he's doing, he's caressing the side of your face. it's a ghost of a touch at first, “staring like what?”

“like you're doing right now” you breath hitches in your throat at the tenderness of rin's caress. momentarily closing your eyes, you lean into his touch. his gaze devours you whole, it makes you want to shrink further into the couch, but at the same time— daring you to wait and see where it takes you.

when all you can hear is the loud thumps of your own heart, watching the steady rise and fall of rin's shoulders as he's gazing through the soul window of your eyes, you're painfully aware that the two of you are alone.

“can't help it,” he mumbles. “god, you're beautiful” he says.

the faint glow of moonlight strips lines of silver across the room, and rin's bathed in luminescence. you can't help but trace the sharp white cut of his collarbone and the flutter of his eyelashes, over the broad expanse of his chest and the slopes of shoulders down to the ridges of hard muscle roping the length of his forearm. you take in his light. he takes in yours.

there are too many details. too much to breathe in yet not enough at the same time. a drug-like midnight haze encompasses the room, the air in the room is electrified and frozen still. rin's fingers travel down from your cheekbones to the corner of your mouth, then brush lightly against your chin.

you can't think. can't say anything. it's like your voice is caught in your own throat. all you feel is the heaviness of the air and the brushes of rin's fingers across your skin. mind blurring with the lines of a countless ‘what ifs’ and moments you've felt the same heaviness in the air, times when the glances you steal from each other lasted longer than they should've.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, and rin's eyes follow the action. his gaze rests there and your falls to his.

there's a momentary pause, as if you're caught in a trance. as if there's hesitation and doubts filling the spaces left behind your words. rin's eyes are still set on your slightly parted lips.

and then it breaks.

you feel it in the form of a shiver running down your spine when the lightning in the room reaches a breaking point, you think rin feels it too. there's a shift in his shoulders when he leans forward at the very second time melts into infinity— a magnetic pull drawing you both in.

rin's other hand supports his weight when he practically crawls on all fours and rolls forward on the leg tucked beneath him.

his lips surround yours— desperate, heated, almost obscene. it's nowhere near the gentle caress from before. teeth nipping and tugging at your bottom lip, long and languid glides of tongue against tongue. he breathes in all of your gasps and mewls, chasing after your breaths to consume you whole like he's waited forever for this very moment. breaths tangle in heated knots of passion, you're holding onto rin's arms, aware that your hands are almost shaking. this is not your first kiss. you've kissed people before. but it's your first kiss with rin and he's made you forget there was anyone ever before him.

you pull away first, breathless and hot. it's addictive— the way rin's lips chase after yours, eyes fluttering open when he can't find them. but he's still close. so, so close. forehead resting on yours and hot breaths fanning against your mouth.

his eyes are brimming with awe and glimmer, but lips swollen and sinful. the contrast is striking— awestruck eyes and moon-bruised lips.

rin falls back into the couch, calming his staggered breaths and throbbing heart.

it takes a long minute before either of you speak again.

“do you regret it?” it's a whisper that's almost raw with desperation and fear. rin's eyes are glued to you again, waiting for an answer.

“i don't. i'd never regret it. do you?” though still breathless, your voice is bold.

“regret?—” he chuckles, as if you asked a dumb question, “—you have no idea, how long I've wanted this. wanted you.” it's a declaration— of all his unconfessed feelings, all the times he'd stopped himself just short of the breaking point. “i feel like i'm about to lose my mind.”

“me too”, is all you can say. it's all you can think.

and if rin senses that, then he smiles, “why don't we try that again?”

© seimirii 2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

i hope this is what you wanted m'lady @rinnahhhh

my brain: okay, if you aren't going to do any of the shitload of school work you have, you should at least work on that one fic you were supposed to finish months ago

my heart: I have!!!!! an idea!!!! for a new fic!!!!!

brain: wait did you not hear me??! you need to

heart: NEW FIC NEW FIC NEW FIC NEW

brain: you know you have literally x other half-complete

heart: NEEEEEEEEWWWWWW FFFFFFFFIIIIIIICCCCCC

me: *eternal screaming*

Jisung: you look nice, i want to kiss you

Y/N: sorry, i didn't catch that, mind repeating that for me?

Jisung: I- I SAID IF YOU DIED I WOULDN'T MISS YOU

Like Hell You’d Tell Me No | PB fic

(tommyshelby x fem!reader – s2 era)

Summary: When Y/N gets sent to Birmingham for her own protection, the last thing she expects is to be dropped into the middle of Shelby territory, especially under the icy watch of one Thomas Shelby. But somehow, she keeps breaking his rules... and somehow, he lets her. Between unannounced office visits, drunken nights in his chair, and a new bestie in Ada Shelby, Y/N is stirring up more than just trouble. And when things start to heat up between her and Tommy, they might just find themselves caught in a moment that neither of them is quite ready for, yet.

A/N: okay so, I always write Harry (literally always), but while prepping for my internship I decided to finally watch Peaky Blinders... and now I’m unwell. Like, genuinely not okay. Tommy Shelby lives in my head rent-free and I can’t make him leave. 😭

So instead of lesson planning like a responsible adult, this little fic idea basically wrote itself at 1AM with Taylor Swift playing in the background lol. Not sure if I’ll continue this or if I’ll dabble in multiple fandoms, but I had fun writing it and wanted to share in case anyone else is also deep in their Peaky Blinders phase

Word Count: 4147

Warnings: 

Light drinking

Mentions of past threats/harassment (non-graphic)

Protective/possessive behavior (from Tommy, ofc)

Language (it’s Peaky Blinders, there’s swearing lol)

Slow-burn tension and emotional build-up

Mentions of minor violence (one punch, classic Tommy move)

Unresolved romantic tension (aka cliffhanger ending 😌)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Tommy just… stares.

The silence in the room stretched, thick as the smoke curling from his cigarette. Papers sat idle in front of him, ignored now. The man across the desk – some poor bastard talking percentages – had gone completely still, mouth half-open like he was about to continue his pitch until she appeared out of nowhere.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she’d walked into a pub instead of the Shelby Company office. Young, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a travel-worn coat and scuffed boots. There was something in her look. Not arrogance. Just no fear. Like she'd met worse than a room full of Shelbys.

“Door was open,” she said again, tilting her head. “Didn’t think it was a problem.”

Arthur snorted behind her. “Bloody hell, she’s brave.”

Polly didn’t say a word, but the look on her face was a mix of amusement and caution. Always watching.

Tommy took a slow drag, tapped ash into the tray. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping in without being asked. “You must be Tommy, Thomas Shelby.”

“Bit early to be on first-name terms.”

“Bit late not to be,” she replied, dropping her bag by the wall like she belonged there. “You owe my brother a favor. I’m the favor.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Not from her mouth. Not from anyone, really. But the message had come a few days ago, and he’d read it twice just to be sure. Michael Carter. They’d served together. Pulled him out of a trench once. Didn’t talk much after the war, but when a man like that writes and says his sister’s in trouble, you pay attention. You don’t say no.

“What kind of trouble?”

She shrugged. “The vague kind. London’s full of it. Wrong place, wrong time. Few names I shouldn’t have known, a few blokes who didn’t like me walking away.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “You running?”

“I’d call it more of a stroll,” she said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring much baggage.”

He looked at her. Really looked. She was tired but not broken. Something restless behind her eyes. There was a fight in her, the kind that either got people killed or made them dangerous friends. He wasn’t sure which yet.

“You’ll stay above the shop,” he said after a pause. “Spare room. Polly’ll take you up.”

Y/N glanced toward Polly, who gave a small nod.

Tommy picked up his pen again, glancing at the man across from him who’d gone completely pale. “Now, if we’re done with the interruptions–”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, already walking off.

“Don’t wander.”

She turned in the doorway, gave a small smirk. “No promises.”

Polly followed her out a moment later, her heels sharp on the floorboards.

Arthur leaned in with a low whistle. “She’s got some fire, that one.”

Tommy didn’t answer. He was staring at the spot she’d been standing in. His jaw clenched as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

“She gonna be trouble?” Arthur asked.

“She already is,” Tommy said quietly, then went back to pretending to listen to the pitch in front of him.

--

Upstairs, Y/N was already sizing up the space. The spare room was clean enough. Not warm, but not cold either. Polly stood by the door, watching.

“You’re lucky,” Polly said finally. “He doesn’t like people in his office. Doesn’t like people full stop.”

Y/N looked around, then dropped onto the bed with a soft thump. “I’ll keep out of his way.” Polly gave a dry smile. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Downstairs, Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, but his hand hovered near the tin for another. He didn’t light it. Just sat there, staring at the door where she’d come in like a storm in worn boots and sharp words.

A favor owed, he thought. Just a favor.

But he already knew better.

The days that followed proved it. She didn’t just stay in the spare room. She moved through the betting shop like she’d always been there. Tommy had told himself he’d figure out what to do with her once things settled, once he had time. But time didn’t slow for the Shelbys. And she didn’t wait for permission.

“You know there’s a kettle in the back, right?” she asked one morning, walking into his office without knocking. Again. She set a chipped mug down on the desk like it was hers to do so. “You don’t have to drink your weight in whisky before noon.”

Tommy looked up slowly. “You bring tea to every man who gives you a place to sleep?”

“Only the grumpy ones,” she said, hands in the pockets of her skirt. “Which is lucky for you.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the steam curling from the cup.

She lingered a second longer, then turned to leave. “Try not to scowl into it too hard. Might go bitter.”

That was the third time that week she’d barged in. Polly had stopped bothering to intervene. Arthur found it funny. John asked if she had a death wish.

Tommy just drank the tea.

It wasn’t that she was rude. She just didn’t care about the little rules. Rules like knocking before you enter a room that belongs to Thomas Shelby. Rules like not sitting in the man’s chair while drunk at the end of a long day.

Which she did.

It was Friday, the shop was quiet, and she had found the whisky in the cabinet behind the front desk. Arthur had offered her a glass earlier. She’d declined then. Hours later, she helped herself.

Tommy walked in to find her kicked back in his chair, legs tucked under her, nursing a glass. Her boots were off and resting on the floor beside her. She looked comfortable. Dangerous thing to be in his space.

“You’re in my chair,” he said.

She turned her head lazily. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

He didn’t say anything. He looked at her for a moment, then walked to the other side of the room. Took off his coat, hung it up. Sat on the edge of the desk, lit a cigarette. The quiet filled the space between them.

“You always drink alone?” he asked finally.

“I wasn’t alone,” she said. “You came in.”

Arthur came by halfway through and nearly choked on his laughter. John followed, paused in the doorway, gave a long low whistle.

“She’s got some bloody nerve,” John said under his breath.

Tommy said nothing. Just exhaled a long stream of smoke and looked at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, she stood, wobbling just a bit, and set the glass down neatly on the desk.

“Thanks for not shouting,” she said. “It’s rare.”

He watched her as she walked out, barefoot, leaving the smell of whisky and some kind of sweet soap in her wake.

The door clicked shut.

Arthur leaned closer to Tommy after a beat. “You gonna let her get away with that?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. “She’s not doing any harm.”

John raised an eyebrow. “She was in your chair, brother.”

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. “She’s not in it now.”

That was how it was. She floated in and out of the betting shop like smoke, slipping through the cracks no one else dared to touch. She was younger, yes. Full of jokes and sudden laughter. The kind that didn’t come from politeness but from deep inside, like she refused to let the world make her quiet.

He didn’t know what to make of her yet. But he noticed things. The way she talked to everyone. The way she read newspapers he hadn’t even opened yet. The way she knew how to patch a rip in her own coat with needle and thread without making a fuss. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

She didn’t belong here. Not really. But she was here. And the longer she stayed, the more it felt like a storm had rolled in and decided to settle.

He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her. But he knew sending her away wasn’t an option anymore. That thought sat in the back of his mind the night Arthur burst through his office door, out of breath and sweating.

“She’s at the Garrison,” he said. “Alone. Some bloke’s not takin’ the hint.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked past Arthur without a word. His pace was calm, but his steps were hard. Each one louder than the last on the wooden stairs.

The Garrison wasn’t far, but it felt like miles. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Inside, the music was low and the laughter was higher than usual. A Friday night crowd. Voices blurred together until one stood out.

“Come on, sweetheart,” a man was saying. “Don’t be so bloody cold.”

Tommy moved through the crowd like smoke. He didn’t shove. Didn’t speak. Just walked until the man came into view. Broad-shouldered, older, drunk. Y/N was backed against the wall near the end of the bar, her arms crossed tight and chin lifted. She wasn’t scared, but she wasn’t laughing either.

“I said no,” she repeated, voice firm.

“And I said I don’t care,” the man replied, hand brushing against her arm again.

Tommy didn’t stop walking. The man didn’t see him coming. One second he was smirking, the next he was on the ground, nose caved in and blood gushing. No warning. No words.

The room went quiet.

Tommy didn’t look down. He turned to Y/N, who hadn’t moved. Her face had gone pale.

“Come on,” he said.

She followed him out into the street without arguing. The cold hit her hard, cutting through the whisky in her blood. They walked in silence for a few blocks, her footsteps uneven beside his. She hadn’t even grabbed her coat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally.

He didn’t look at her. “Yes. I did.”

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I could’ve handled it.”

“I’m sure,” he said, voice flat. “But, he touched you.”

She stopped walking. He stopped too, turning to face her.

“I don’t need a fucking bodyguard, Tommy.”

“No,” he said. “You need someone to keep you alive. That’s me now.”

She stared at him, jaw tight, but her voice cracked when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He looked at her. Really looked. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wind-blown, and her eyes shining in that way they did when she was holding too much in. She was trying to be tough, but her hands were shaking.

He stepped closer, calm now. “You all right?”

She looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“It wasn’t the first time someone got too close.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t say what he wanted to say. That London was behind her, but its shadows were still clinging. That he should’ve never let her walk out alone. That the second he got word she was in danger, his heart had pounded like it hadn’t since France.

Instead, he took a breath and said, “Next time you go out, you take someone with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Arthur? Polly?”

“Me,” he said. “Preferably.”

The silence stretched between them, and something shifted in her face. Not fear. Not defiance. Just something quieter.

“Right,” she said. “Okay.”

He nodded once, then turned and kept walking. She followed.

The streets of Birmingham were dark, damp, full of half-spoken threats. But she walked beside him like it was the safest place she’d ever been.

The next morning, Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of the spare room, trying to make sense of the mess she called her belongings. Half-unpacked bags, a few folded letters, and a pair of boots still caked in city grime. She was tugging a comb through her hair when there was a knock on the door. “Mind if I come in?” came a voice.

Y/N turned to see a woman leaning in the doorway, lipstick perfect, hair pinned up tight like she meant business even on a quiet day. She looked familiar in that way all the Shelbys did.

“Ada, right?” Y/N said.

“That’s me. Figured it was about time we had a proper chat,” Ada replied, stepping in without waiting. “They’ve all been talking about you.”

“Yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Ada grinned. “Only if you hate compliments wrapped in irritation.”

She handed over two cups of something that smelled strong enough to kick. Y/N took one with a grateful nod.

“Whiskey in the coffee?” Y/N asked.

“Bit of both. It’s the Shelby way.”

They sat near the window, legs stretched out, warmth settling into the space.

“You’re not like them,” Ada said after a moment. “Not from here. Not stuck in it like the rest of us.”

Y/N gave a little shrug. “London’s not exactly better.”

“No, but you’ve still got light in your eyes,” Ada said. “Most people around here have it beaten out of them by twenty.”

Y/N looked out the window. “I don’t know about light. I just don’t see the point in pretending everything’s always awful.”

Ada sipped from her cup. “That’s what I mean. You’re a bloody breath of fresh air. Especially among all these grumpy bastards.”

Y/N laughed. “Speak for yourself. You’re just as sharp.”

“I get it from my mother. And years of watching Tommy scowl at paperwork.”

At the mention of his name, Y/N glanced away, but Ada noticed. Of course she did.

“He’s different with you,” Ada said.

Y/N frowned. “Different how?”

Ada leaned in, smug. “Less growling. More… I don’t know. Breathing.”

“You’re making things up.”

“I’m not.” She pointed her cup at Y/N. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”

Y/N blinked, actually blinked, and then laughed into her drink. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Ada said. “He doesn’t even let me in his office unannounced.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Maybe he’s just tired of telling me off.”

“No. That’s not it.” Ada gave her a long look. “He trusts you.”

There was a weight in those words Y/N hadn’t expected. She didn’t answer right away. Trust wasn’t something she’d had a lot of lately. It felt strange to even think about.

“He walked me home last night,” Y/N said quietly. “After a man at the Garrison got pushy.”

Ada nodded. “I heard. Arthur said Tommy didn’t say a word. Just broke the bloke’s nose and left.”

Y/N stared down into her mug. “He didn’t even look angry. That’s what got me.”

Ada tilted her head. “That’s worse, you know. Means he meant it.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “I know it’s just a favor, what he’s doing. Letting me stay. Letting me be here.”

Ada stood and stretched. “It started out that way, but i believe it has turned into more. That’s why it matters.”

She walked toward the door, then turned. “You’re good for him. Whether he admits it or not.”

Y/N stayed by the window after she left. The coffee had gone cold, but she held it anyway, hands wrapped around something solid.

Out in the street, she caught sight of Tommy crossing to the shop, coat pulled close, face unreadable as ever.

She watched him for a second too long. Then she looked away, heart skipping in a way she pretended not to notice.

By the time evening came, the betting shop had been cleared out, lanterns strung up, and Polly’s birthday turned into one of those Shelby nights that started quiet and always ended with someone singing out of tune. Y/N wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was hard to say no when John poured heavy and Polly kept pressing glasses into her hand with a look that said she’d take offense otherwise.

She’d laughed too hard, danced once with Ada, twice with Arthur, and ended up slipping out when her head started to spin and the voices all blurred into one. The music still floated through the floorboards when she made her way up the stairs and pushed open the office door.

She didn’t even bother with the lights. The soft glow from the hallway was enough. She crossed the room like it was muscle memory now and dropped into the chair behind the desk. His chair. She tucked one leg under herself and took a slow sip from the bottle she’d brought up.

The first sip burned. The second didn’t.

She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, listening to the muffled laughter below, the distant clink of glasses. The door creaked after a few minutes. She didn’t open her eyes.

“Told you I like your chair,” she said lazily.

Tommy stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “You’ve got a habit.”

“I’ve got nowhere else that’s quiet,” she replied.

He walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk, facing her. No coat, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of his tattoo. His tie was loose. He looked like he’d stopped pretending to be the man everyone thought he had to be.

She glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?”

He shrugged. “They won’t miss me for a few minutes.”

She tilted the bottle toward him. “Want some?”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Then keep me company.”

So he did. They sat in the kind of silence that had weight but no pressure. She traced a line in the wood grain of the desk with her finger, then spoke, soft and unguarded.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on her face.

“I used to think London was it,” she went on. “Then everything went to shit. I came here thinking it’d be worse. But now I just feel stuck in between.”

She looked down. “And I hate feeling like a guest. Like I’m just waiting for someone to tell me it’s time to go.”

“You’re not a guest,” Tommy said.

“Then what am I?”

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer either.

She looked at him, really looked. The way his eyes softened in moments like this, when no one else was around to see. How still he went when he let his guard down. Like it scared him more than war ever had.

“You don’t talk much,” she said.

“I say what needs saying.”

“Right.” She took another sip. “But you listen.”

Their eyes met. Her thumb brushed the side of the glass, and his fingers reached out absently to take it from her. Their hands touched – just a second – but it was enough to make her chest tighten.

He set the bottle down without breaking the gaze. Neither moved.

“Why are you always so calm?” she whispered.

“I’m not.”

His voice was low. Closer now. She hadn’t noticed how near he’d leaned until she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of tobacco and something colder underneath.

Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair.

His hand was resting near hers on the desk. Not quite touching. But close.

Too close. Not close enough.

The silence pulled tight between them. She wasn’t sure who was holding it there, but it felt deliberate, like something balanced on the edge of a blade.

She didn’t move her hand.

Tommy shifted closer, the worn fabric of his sleeve brushing hers. Her breath caught. He didn’t look at her yet, not directly – his eyes stayed on the papers scattered across the desk like they meant something. Like any of this was still about business.

“Don’t smoke in here,” she said quietly, not looking at him either.

“I’m not.”

“You were earlier. Without me.”

He didn’t argue. Just leaned back the slightest bit, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile, but didn’t. His voice stayed low.

“You always this jumpy around men, or just me?”

She turned her head. Met his eyes. “You always this full of yourself, or just with women who talk back?”

There was a flicker in his expression, something like approval, maybe amusement. Maybe something sharper underneath.

“Maybe I like women who talk back.”

“Maybe you like trouble.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest second. “I’m in the business of it.”

That pull in her gut tightened. Her fingers curled harder around the arm of the chair, grounding herself. It wasn’t enough.

The room had gone quiet again, except for the tick of the clock on the mantel and the soft hum of music and voices seeping in from the hallway. The party still spun on without them, but here it felt like everything had narrowed to the space between their hands.

She turned slightly, just enough that her knee brushed his. She didn’t apologize. Neither did he.

“Thomas.”

He lifted his eyes again. That look he gave her made her forget what she was about to say. Or maybe she hadn’t planned to say anything at all.

He leaned in. Slowly, like he wanted her to see it coming. His breath was warm against her cheek, and there was that scent again – tobacco, sharp gin, and something colder. Something metallic, like the edge of a coin.

The air between them thickened. She could feel her pulse in her throat, in her fingertips.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is this the part where you kiss me, or tell me I’ve crossed a line?”

Tommy’s eyes darkened, his focus slipping to her lips, then back up. A slow smirk curved his mouth, not the cruel one he used in business, not the charming one he pulled out for show. This one was quieter. Closer to real.

He leaned in just a little more.

Then came the knock.

Three sharp raps on the doorframe.

“You two decent?”

Ada’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Y/N jerked back in her chair, heat rushing to her face as if she’d been caught doing something she hadn’t even done.

Tommy straightened slowly, not looking away from her. The smirk was gone. What replaced it was something harder to name. Something held tight behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he called, not loud. “We’re decent.”

Ada poked her head in, grin wide, eyes darting between them. “Well, don’t let me interrupt whatever this was.”

“It was nothing,” Y/N said too quickly. She cleared her throat. “Just work.”

“Right.” Ada’s grin didn’t budge. “You’re missing the part where Finn tries to charm the Americans. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”

Tommy gave a short nod. “We’ll be out soon.”

Ada raised a brow but didn’t push. “Suit yourselves.” She ducked out again.

The silence came back, heavier this time.

Y/N stood, smoothing her skirt like it might help her pretend nothing had happened. Nothing almost had.

Tommy watched her. Didn’t say anything at first.

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I should–” she started.

“Go back to the party,” he said softly.

She looked at him then.

“We’ll finish this later.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

&. 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  various  fluffy  dialogue  prompts  so  soft,  so  sweet,  just  for  you!  )

❛ i just wanted to make sure you’re okay. ❜

❛ there it is, there’s that smile! ❜

❛ you got me flowers? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ aw, did you miss me? ❜

❛ you’re lucky that you’re cute. ❜

❛ wait, you think i’m cute? ❜

❛ you’re not alone. you never were. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ good morning, sleeping beauty. ❜

❛ it’s better with you here. ❜

❛ don’t worry, i’m staying right here. ❜

❛ you’re welcome to stay, if you want. ❜

❛ don’t be a stranger, okay? ❜

❛ i haven’t laughed like this in a long time. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ you can hold my hand, if you want. ❜

❛ i knew you would be here. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ before you do anything, try this and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ wow i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look. ❜

❛ we can order pizza, watch a movie, whatever you want. ❜

❛ what, am i not allowed to look at you? ❜

❛ i’m not giving up on you. ❜

❛ is that my shirt? ❜

❛ this is a good look for you. ❜

❛ pinky promise? ❜

❛ c’mere, you. ❜

❛ honey, i’m home! ❜

❛ you remembered? ❜

❛ you’re my family too. ❜

❛ let’s go somewhere, just you and me. ❜

❛ i’m here for you. don’t forget that. ❜

❛ you’re the only thing that matters. ❜

❛ was that your first kiss? ❜

❛ i was worried something happened to you. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ relationships are built on trust, and i trust you. ❜

❛ you always see the good in people. even me. ❜

❛ do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are? ❜

❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜

❛ thanks to you, i know what it means to love again. ❜

❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜

❛ i’m just glad you’re okay. ❜

❛ here we are, home sweet home. ❜

❛ thanks for being here with me. ❜

❛ seeing you happy is all that matters. ❜

❛ keep it. it looks better on you. ❜

❛ i couldn’t stop missing you if i tried. ❜

❛ you feel like home to me. ❜

Favorite Muse (Model!Uzui Tengen x Photographer!Reader) Ko-fi Request

Sooo yes another request for kimetsu no yaiba with our flamboyant Tengen Uzui.Maybe an a/o/b fic (I like how you write them) or an modern au where Tengen is a model (instagram models?) And reader is sort of his personal photographer .I dont mind if you mix the two together.

I’m sorry this took so long, I hope this finds you with some good timing since season 2 is finally out and it is Uzui in all his glory. I’d like to write more stories and blurbs with a photographer/model relationship, this one was a fun one to write. thank you so much for the support! I hope you enjoy!!!

title: Favorite Muse

pairing: Uzui Tengen/Reader

rating: slight nsfw

- - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - -

I have a new shoot idea I want to try.

You glance at your phone, blinking in surprise over the top of your energy drink. You glance at the familiar contact name and look back to your current editing project—the wedding photos should be done by the end of the night if you keep on track. You’re scheduled for a few more shoots in the morning and had planned to kick back as a little reward to yourself.

You consider your options briefly. A new string of texts follow the first, and you know it’s just him trying to incite you even further for whatever crackpot idea he’s come up with this time. You know with how he is, he won’t let it drop if it’s an idea he’s especially fond of, even if it means a half-nude shoot in the middle of the god damn Antarctic because somehow—

The one and only elusive model Uzui Tengen’s photos—they always sell.

You can tell him no, suffer the consequences of having him barrage you for the next few days, suffer the even harder consequences of having one of the girls try to persuade you into doing it—you’re particularly weak to Hinatsuru’s advances—and also miss out on a chance to make some extra pocket change for what you get as Uzui Tengen’s one and only private contractor and photographer. But, what you do get in return is a peaceful, stress-free night to yourself, which is hopelessly and utterly rare and your body is rather beat and haggard after all these back-to-back shoots and especially that god damn rock climbing advertisement, you shouldn’t have done that one. 

Or, you could say yes; get paid handsomely because Tengen’s photos always sell well, get to eat Hinatsuru’s cooking because she’ll have heard you’ll be stopping by the studio and would make sure something’s ready, get to partake in the luxuries that surround the Uzui household, get Uzui off your back for about forty-eight hours max…

Your phone is still being spammed with texts. You ignore them, staring at the happy couple smearing cake onto each other’s faces. When Uzui and the girls finally get a proper wedding in place, you’d take those photos in a heartbeat. You know they’d be the kind for the record books.

Your phone lights up now with a phone call. You suddenly consider turning down the offer out of spite, nursing your energy drink with dull eyes. Your gaze does stray, however, to the pile of take-out containers sitting on your work desk. You frown at them, feeling your stomach churn at the thought of Hinatsuru’s warm porridge…

Your stomach wins. You swipe your phone, pressing it to your ear.

“Finally! What are you doing not picking up my calls at this hour?” you hear music blasting from Uzui’s side and suddenly wonder if you’ve made the wrong choice. “I know, are you getting off on my photos? You can just come and I’ll help you out. No need to play by yourself.”

“What’s this idea of yours?” you say, checking your schedule. If Uzui leaves you alone for the next two days, you can schedule a day-off after the male calendar shoot… yeah, this can work out! “If it’s the frosting idea in a different theme, I’m going to cut all ties with you—”

“You love taking my photos too much,” Uzui says, sounding bored. “I want to do something good for Valentine’s. A single theme, straight-forward, nothing crazy this time, actually.”

“The most flamboyant man on earth,” you say flatly. “And it’s nothing crazy?”

“It’ll be more than enough, baby,” Uzui says. You imagine him kicking his head back, lounging on some kind of leather couch tucked into a dazzling club somewhere or another. The man’s got too much energy, too much stamina, and you’re not really sure where he keeps it. “Less is more, you know?”

You do know. You always tell him those exact words. But for Uzui Tengen, it’s either go big or go home. That’s why his shoots always require you to clear out your schedule the day after because they’re far too arduous for you to do anything else.

“I don’t like how secretive you’re being with the whole thing,” you say, clicking to clean up another photo. “Give me something to mull over. I’ll be there after seven.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Fine, but you’re staying until it’s done.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. You get the feeling he knows anyway though because he continues, “One word theme. Think about it however you’d like, sweetheart.”

You wait, tapping a finger idly against the minimizing key. You hear the music dull in the background, wondering if he’s moving away from the source of noise. His side quiets, and all you hear is the faint rustle of fabric, and then you imagine Uzui’s phone pressed against the side of his face, maybe held up in his hand, right by his mouth—

The husky, low alto of his voice nearly catches you off guard for a second. Uzui whispers it, sweet, like honey against your ears.

“Seduction.”

Keep reading

Mmm, for some reason I’m really craving a whumpee who crashes headlong through the windshield of a car, tumbling over the hood to land in a bloody, unconscious heap on the asphalt – or into a nearby snowdrift, their blood staining the pearly white a thick, viscous red just in time for Christmas.