"Let's stay together."

ABOUT WHAT I WRITE;

I will mostly only write for GENSHIN, though my interests may changed because I am quite indecisive (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ*Amia has personally given her apologies.*

I will also write for Haikyuu!! (sometimes lol) and I may consider writing for HSR soon. I haven't been catching up because the phone where I have my main acc is still broken

(っ◞‸◟ c)

I might be too busy with studies to see them or I am currently writing something. (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

WHAT I WILL MOSTLY POST;

I strictly only do fem! reader or gender neutral! reader, but I will consider making male! reader if requested. my blogs will also contain smut, fluff, angst, one shots, my own ideas or your requests!

I have so many drafts on my phone so u may see me posting alot .·°՞(っ-ᯅ-ς)՞°·.

what I MAY consider posting:

storyline/chapters, dark themed romance, yandere themes, anything that you guys will request/recommended (just please don't be weird about it..)

what I WILL NEVER post:

THOSE type of dark romance, rape, incest, gore, THOSE type of kinks

get the hell out of here if you're gonna request smut about minors. (fluff or angst is okay)

requests are always open to me!!! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

ABOUT REQUESTS

again, you can request anything just don't be a creep about it or make sure it aligns with my rules

if your requests don't show up in my posts its either:

1. you requested something in a Fandom I'm not in.

2. that request wasn't in my rules

3. it made me uncomfortable

4. I didn't see it (I'm sorry, Amia doesn't really check inbox :,))

RULES !

1. don't be weird or mean.

2. make sure your request is DETAILED AND ACCURATE, so I can write your request properly (๑>؂•̀๑)

3. for the second time, MINORS DNI

4. if you have problems with my content, no need to voice it out, just block me

extra notes !

I will make sure to reply to your requests or your comments as much as I can. but please know my social battery is low as well as my patience.

keep everything friendly, don't start fights, don't harass anyone. this blog is a safe space!

that's all, I hope you guys enjoy the fanfics I'll soon post!

(masterlist will be up soon!)

"I hope whatever you're going through doesn't make you feel any less. just know you are loved, even if things don't work out." ᥫ᭡.

-Amiaemon ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

KINICH

It had started with a simple message.

Late night. Empty streets. A little buzz from the wine and loneliness. You weren’t even sure how it escalated.just that you ended up at his place, hands tangled, lips pressed, skin flushed.

That first night should’ve been a one-time thing. It wasn’t.

Week after week, like clockwork, Kinich would show up. Sometimes he’d drive to your apartment; other nights he’d text at 2 AM with a lazy, “You up?” and you’d find yourself standing at his door twenty minutes later. Always the same routine: no cuddling, no sweet talk, no promises.

Just skin and silence.

It was after the third night that he warned you. Face shadowed by the dim light of his bedside lamp, sweat still clinging to your collarbones.

“Don’t take it to heart,” he muttered, voice low but firm. “This is just physical. Don’t fall in love. If you do, I’ll drop you.”

You laughed it off. You thought he was joking.

You should’ve known he wasn’t.

Weeks passed. Months, almost. The meetings became more frequent, he remembered how you liked your coffee, the way you preferred music over silence, that you always left your shoes beside the door. It started feeling like something real… until he pulled away.

Until one night, as you lay in his bed, fingers gently brushing his jaw, he repeated it again:

“I’m not looking for anything right now. Or ever.”

And that’s when you decided to stop.

You texted him the next day, “Maybe it’s better if we stop seeing each other.” No heart emoji. No explanation. Just silence afterward. He didn’t reply. Not for a week. Not for a month.

And in that month, you fell apart slowly, quietly. Cried into pillows, wore his shirt one last time before burying it in the bottom drawer. You tried dating someone else. It felt hollow. It wasn’t him.

You missed him like a secret.

But you kept going.

Until today.

The knock on your door was quiet, almost hesitant. You weren’t expecting anyone, and when you opened it, your heart dropped.

There he was.

Kinich.

Same lizard like eyes. the same green and amber eyes. same messy black hair, same overconfident posture that faltered the moment your eyes met his. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly. Like he’d been carrying something heavy for weeks.

“Hey,” he said, voice softer than you remembered.

You didn’t respond. You just stepped back.

He entered. Looked around like it had been years. Sat on your couch like it still remembered the shape of him.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you don’t have to say anything, okay? Just… hear me out.”

You nodded, slowly.

He breathed out.

“I was wrong. About everything. About us.” His voice trembled. “I thought I didn’t need anything real. That I could keep things casual and walk away clean, no strings. But you—”

He paused, swallowing hard.

“God, I miss you. I miss the way you smile at me like I’m worth something. I miss your stupid sleepy voice in the morning and the way you always pull the blanket halfway off the bed. I miss us, even if we were never really an ‘us.’”

Your heart clenched.

“I told you not to fall in love,” he whispered. “But I’m the one who did.”

You stared at him, arms crossed tightly.

“I waited,” you said, voice brittle. “I waited and waited, hoping you’d say something, hoping I wasn’t the only one feeling it. And when I finally let go, when I finally accepted that I was just another name in your phone, you show up now?”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know it’s unfair. I hurt you. I don’t deserve anything from you. But please, just…” He looked down, ashamed. “I wanted to be brave enough to come back sooner. But I didn’t know how. I was scared that you’d hate me.”

“I did,” you whispered. “For a while.”

He flinched.

You continued, “I hated you for pretending like it was nothing. For giving me pieces of you but never enough. And I hated myself for hoping you’d change.”

“I have,” he said, his voice raw. “Or- I’m trying to. I just… I wanted to tell you the truth this time.”

You looked at him. He wasn’t wearing his usual smirk. His walls weren’t up. He was just Kinich. tired, regretful, aching, Kinich.

“Why now?” you asked.

“Because every time I try to move on, I think about you,” he admitted. “And it kills me. You’re the only person who made me feel like more than just some guy people tolerate. You made me feel seen. And I ruined that.”

You felt tears prick your eyes.

You didn’t move. Not yet.

But you didn’t push him away either.

Silence settled between you, thick and trembling.

Finally, you spoke.

“I’m still mad,” you said honestly.

“I know.”

“I don’t trust you. Not fully.”

“I’ll earn it back.”

“I don’t know if I believe in *us* anymore.”

“I’ll wait,” he said simply. “Even if it takes forever.”

And somehow, the words didn’t feel like another trick.

Not this time.

You walked over. Sat beside him. He didn’t move to touch you, just looked at you with those soft, regret-filled eyes.

“I’m not promising anything,” you whispered.

“I’m not asking for a promise,” he murmured. “Just a second chance.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder. He stilled, as if afraid to breathe.

And then your hand found his.

You laced your fingers through his.

Not a promise. Not yet.

But a start.

HEIZOU

BRO IM ACTUALLY GONNA KILL THIS LITTLE SHIT

He wasn’t trying to be mean when he said it.

It was just so… calculated. So casual. Like it was a script he'd recited before, and perfected to a point it didn’t even feel personal anymore.

You remember his words exactly, charming voice edged with a smirk, lazy arms folded behind his head as you lay beside him in the quiet glow of your bedroom lamp.

“This thing we have, it’s fun. But don’t take it to heart, alright?”

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

He said it with a chuckle, like it was obvious. Like it was easy.

And maybe for him, it was.

You knew Heizou’s reputation. witty, sharp, impossible to tie down. Even when your weekly… arrangements began, you told yourself you were fine with it. You nodded along, acted cool, said “of course, I get it,” like your heart wasn’t already teetering off the edge.

Heizou was addicting. That was the problem.

It wasn’t just the kisses or the heat of his touch. It was the way he remembered the smallest things. He made you laugh in ways no one else could. He made you feel..worth it.

And before you knew it, you were in too deep.

But you never said a word. You never risked it. Because he told you not to.

So when you sent that message a month ago, “I think we should stop. It’s better this way”, you meant it. And when he didn’t fight it, didn’t reply at all, you curled into yourself and accepted that maybe that was the end.

You hadn’t heard from him since.

Not until tonight.

A knock on your door just past midnight. When you opened it, Heizou stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes unreadable for once.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

You hesitated. But eventually, you stepped aside.

He wandered in like nothing had changed. Sat on your couch like he still belonged there. You stayed standing, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“What do you want, Heizou?”

He looked up at you, smile uncertain. the first time you’d ever seen it falter.

“I messed up.”

You waited.

“I thought I could keep things simple,” he admitted. “Keep you close, but not too close. I thought if I didn’t let it get messy, I wouldn’t get hurt.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Not yet.

“But then it ended, and I thought I’d be fine. Thought I’d move on, laugh it off, go back to how things were before you,” he said, voice softer now. “Except I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

He sat forward, elbows on his knees, gaze lowered. “I kept hearing your laugh. Kept missing the way you always ruined my theories with a single dumb, brilliant question. I missed your texts. Your voice. You.”

He looked up again.

“I told you not to fall in love,” he said, “but I was already falling.”

Your throat tightened.

You took a shaky breath. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Because I thought love meant losing control. And that scares me,” he admitted, voice rough. “But losing you? That terrified me more.”

You walked over, slowly. Stood in front of him.

“Heizou… you can’t just say this and expect everything to go back to normal.”

“I don’t want it to go back to normal,” he said, standing. He reached out, hesitated, then gently took your hand. “I want something real. If you’ll let me.”

You searched his eyes. looking for the practiced charm, the casual mask.

But all you saw was vulnerability.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

You squeezed his hand.

“Okay,” you whispered. “But you’re starting from scratch.”

He smiled. smaller, realer.

“Then I’ll start tonight.”

And this time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t practiced at all.

SETHOS

You should’ve known better when he first said it. Said it with a grin, sure, but still with just enough edge to make it feel serious.

“Don’t fall in love with me, okay? I’m not really looking for anything serious. I like what we’re doing, but if you want something real… I’ll drop it. No hard feelings.”

You laughed. Said, “Of course. Me too.”

Lied through your teeth.

Because how could you not fall in love with Sethos?

He was sunshine in the shape of a man. The kind who remembered your favorite songs and played them while driving you home, who picked up your coffee order without asking, who stayed with you in bed an extra hour because you were too tired to get up. He made everything feel light. Fun. Safe.

But the whole time, his words sat like a rock in your chest.

Don’t fall in love. Or I’ll drop you.

So you never told him about the flutter in your stomach when he smiled at you. Never mentioned how it crushed you when he left after, pulling on his hoodie like it was routine.

And when it all ended, mutually, cleanly. you nodded along again. “It was fun while it lasted.” Pretending like you weren’t aching inside.

That was a month ago.

You tried to forget. Deleted old texts. Got rid of his extra toothbrush. Blocked out the playlist he made “just for fun.”

You didn’t expect him to show up at your doorstep tonight.

Hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, fingers fidgeting with the hem. You blinked at him from the doorway, arms crossing over your chest.

“Sethos?”

He gave a sheepish smile. “Hey.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know. I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated. You knew what this might be. Another temporary fix. One more “fun” night.

But you stepped aside anyway.

He sat on the edge of your couch, restless. You didn’t join him. You stayed standing, trying to keep your guard up.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he began. “About you. About… us.”

“There is no us,” you replied quietly.

“I know,” he said. “That’s what I told myself. What I told you. That this was all just casual.”

He glanced up at you. “But I lied.”

Your breath caught.

“I thought if I didn’t label it, I could walk away anytime. But after we ended things…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Everything just felt… wrong. The fun stuff stopped being fun. The quiet felt too loud.”

You swallowed hard.

“I kept expecting to get over it,” he added. “But I didn’t. I still can’t.”

He looked at you then, truly looked. “You fell in love, didn’t you?”

Your eyes burned. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice raw. “I should’ve never told you not to. That was selfish. I was scared. But I’m not anymore.”

You blinked.

“I’m not asking for everything at once. I just want to try. For real. I don’t want to pretend like I don’t love you anymore.”

You finally moved. Sat beside him, shoulders close.

“Sethos…”

“If you still feel the same,” he said quietly, “can we try again? Not casually. Not halfway.”

You looked into his eyes and saw nothing but sincerity.

So you whispered: “Okay.”

He smiled, the one that reached his eyes, and this time when he held your hand. it felt real.

LYNEY

He had needed a distraction. Something to break the suffocating monotony of all the responsibilities, the endless preparation for shows, the stress that never seemed to end. And for Lyney, that distraction had been you.

It had started casually, just a single night where his charm was all a show and you were just… there. Laughing at his jokes, letting him pull you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his. And with a practiced smile, he’d said, “Don’t take this seriously, alright, mon cheri?”

You had nodded, half-laughing, half-nervous. You had no idea then how easy it would be to fall.

The meetings became weekly. Always discreet. Always light. Always fun. You clung to that boundary, repeating to yourself that it wasn’t real, that Lyney didn’t want anything more than… this. But somewhere along the line, your heart had decided otherwise. You had fallen for him quietly, tucked your feelings away, pretending it was all easy for you too.

Lyney, as it turned out, had fallen harder than he expected. That was the cruel irony. He had told himself it was just distraction, that you were just a respite. But when you ended things, politely, carefully, he felt it like a blow he hadn’t seen coming.

That night he showed up at your door, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes avoiding yours at first. You were sitting on your bed, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself, tears brimming. He noticed immediately. the way you tried to hide your face, the faint trembling of your hands.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and leaned casually against the frame.

“I thought… maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he said softly. His voice, usually so sure, sounded tentative.

You shook your head, unable to speak.

He sighed, stepping closer, hands sliding into his pockets. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else. But…” He crouched down a little so you could see him properly, “seeing you like this? It’s unfair. You don’t deserve to feel like this because of me.”

You blinked at him, your chest tightening. “I… I thought… I thought it was better if-”

He held up a finger, stopping you. “No. Stop. You don’t get to blame yourself. Not for how I feel. Not for how we got here.”

You looked down again, ashamed. The nights, the closeness, the warmth you shared. now, felt like a trap you’d walked into willingly.

Lyney shook his head, softer now, voice almost a whisper. “You don’t understand. When we ended this… I realized I wanted more. Wanted you. More than distraction. More than the easy escape from everything. I fell, mon cheri. I fell the moment I let myself think you were just a passing thing.”

A sob escaped you then, and he moved faster than you expected, sitting beside you and gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you close, forehead resting against yours.

“I know,” he murmured. “I know it’s messy. I know it’s complicated. But I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. You don’t have to hide how you feel. You don’t have to pretend it’s casual anymore.”

You laughed shakily, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “You make it sound so easy.”

He grinned, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “With you, it is. We’ll figure it out together. No games. No pretending. Just us.”

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, your heart felt light again. Because he meant it.

He meant it all.

And that was enough.

KINICH

You’d been with Kinich long enough to know that things didn’t come free. Not love, not attention, and certainly not patience. His affection was real. of that you were sure. but it had always come with terms, even if he didn’t say them aloud. Good behavior. Emotional availability. Gratitude.

And right now, curled up in the middle of his sheets, you felt like you'd broken all of those silent rules.

Your stomach throbbed with dull cramps, your limbs were heavy, and your body felt grossly warm despite the air conditioner humming in the corner. But all of that was nothing compared to the mortifying sight of red, stark, unforgiving red. on Kinich’s clean white sheets.

It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t your fault. You still sat there frozen, legs pulled to your chest and your hands balled tightly into the fabric of his blanket, eyes brimming with tears that wouldn’t stop coming.

Because you knew Kinich. Or at least, you thought you did.

He wasn’t cruel. No, never cruel. But he was exacting. Prone to disappointment. Affectionate, yes. but sometimes with an edge. He was the kind of man who gave gifts and then expected your undivided attention. The kind of man who smiled when you were sweet but would withdraw like a tide if you weren’t exactly what he needed.

So what was this, then? What would this cost you?

You didn’t hear him walk in. You only noticed when his shadow fell across the bed, when you flinched and immediately reached for the blanket to hide the stain.

“Hey,” Kinich’s voice was low, unreadable. His golden eyes flicked to the spot you were trying desperately to conceal, then to your visible panicked face. tear-streaked, trembling.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before he could speak. “I didn’t mean to..It just started. I didn’t think—”

You couldn’t finish. Your throat closed around the panic in your chest, and when you blinked, the tears spilled over. You buried your face in your hands, hating how small you felt, how ashamed. You weren’t just scared of the stain, you were scared of him. Of how he'd look at you now. Of what he’d say. Of whether he’d sigh and step back and wait for you to apologize harder.

But he didn’t.

You felt the dip of the mattress first. Then a pause. A silence so thick it nearly choked you. And then—

“…You’re crying,” Kinich said gently, as if it confused him. “Why are you crying?”

You couldn’t look at him.

“I..I ruined your bed,” you choked out. “I know you hate messes. I know you don’t like, You’ve always been so particular, and I just— I know you’re going to be mad. So just say it, okay? Just say it, and I’ll fix it. I’ll wash it, I’ll stay out of your way, I’ll..”

“Stop.”

His voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t cold. It was… soft. Almost disbelieving.

“Stop,” he said again, firmer this time. “You think I’m going to be mad at you for bleeding?”

You sniffled, not knowing how to answer.

Kinich sighed, and then, surprisingly, he reached out, cupping the back of your head and gently drawing you toward his chest.

“I’m not mad,” he murmured. “I’m not anything but sorry that you thought I would be.”

You hesitated tensely at first, but let yourself fall against him, your body folding into his warmth. You cried, silently this time, into the collar of his shirt. Kinich didn’t push or pry. He just ran his hand through your hair, his other arm curled protectively around your shoulders.

After a long moment, he said quietly, “Have I really made you feel like I’d blow up over something like this?”

You didn’t answer. He already knew.

His jaw tightened. “That’s on me,” he whispered. “I’m… still learning, okay? Still trying to unlearn all the bullshit I thought love had to look like.”

You felt his hand pause at your scalp, thumb pressing gently against your skin.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said. “I don’t want you crying in my bed thinking I’m going to punish you for being human.”

Your tears were slowing now. Your shoulders stopped shaking. You could feel him there, really feel him. solid and real and steady.

“I’ll clean the sheets,” he said softly. “It’s not a big deal. And next time, I’ll make sure there’s a heating pad in here, and extra meds, and maybe some chocolate if you want it. Or soup. Or just silence. Whatever you need.”

You lifted your head slowly, looking up at him through blurry lashes.

“Why are you being so nice?” you whispered, voice cracking.

Kinich smiled, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Because I love you,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

And maybe it was.

legends say Ajaw is still in timeout~~

SETHOS

You knew Sethos wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who yelled.

He wasn’t passive-aggressive, didn’t slam doors, didn’t throw guilt trips. He didn’t keep score or act like affection was something you had to earn. Your relationship with him was healthy. safe, even. He loved you loud and full, with bright eyes and loud laughter and open arms. He held you like you were sunlight. You knew all this.

But still, when you stared at the growing red blotch on the dark sheets. the very same ones Cyno had gifted him last month, you felt the air disappear from your lungs.

Your stomach twisted. The cramps were nothing compared to the guilt curling in your chest. You’d only meant to nap while waiting for him to finish class. You hadn’t even realized your period had started. But now?

You glanced down at the sheets again.

Blood. Not a little, either. The kind that would stain, the kind that would cling to fabric and refuse to be washed out completely. The kind that ruined things.

Cyno had given him those sheets after a tough semester. a rare gesture from someone as blunt and emotionally reserved as him. Sethos had been so touched. He even joked it was one of the best gifts he'd ever gotten from Cyno, second only to that ridiculously expensive pen set he swore he never used but still proudly displayed.

And now you’d ruined them.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. Your hands trembled as you reached to pull the blanket over the stain, heart thudding with the kind of panic you thought you’d grown out of. You weren’t scared of Sethos, not really..but you’d seen him get flustered before, defensive even, when people touched the things he held dear.

A book Kaveh lent him got rained on once, and he didn’t speak for half an hour. When Tighnari accidentally spilled soda on his favorite hoodie, he’d spent the next day obsessively rewashing it. He wasn’t angry, just… deeply bothered.

And this? Sheets from Cyno?

You didn't even hear the door open.

“Babe, I’m back! sorry I took so long, Cyno stopped me and-” Sethos’s words froze the second he stepped into the room and saw your face.

You weren’t fast enough to wipe the tears away.

His entire body shifted. You saw it. his carefree posture straightened, his voice dropped, and in an instant, he was kneeling beside the bed, hands hovering like he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes wide and warm and searching. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“I-I didn’t know it started,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t even feel it, I was just sleeping and...”

Your voice broke entirely as you moved the blanket aside and showed him what you were so desperately trying to hide.

Sethos blinked. Then tilted his head.

“…That’s it?” he asked.

You frowned. “W-What?”

“I thought you stubbed your toe or something,” he said with a light, airy breath, ruffling his own hair. “Or like, your mom called you and said the cat died. I was ready to go full emergency mode.”

“But the sheets..” you whispered, staring down again. “Cyno gave them to you. They were a gift. I messed them up. I know how much you care about that kind of thing, I know you-”

Sethos placed both his hands on either side of your face, tilting your head up gently until your teary eyes met his smiling ones.

“I was literally going to change the sheets today anyway,” he said. “They were due for a wash.”

“But—”

“Hey,” he cut in softly. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”

The words made you break entirely. The tears that had been threatening to fall came in full now, your shoulders trembling as you finally let yourself feel it. shame, relief, exhaustion, all of it.

Sethos didn’t flinch. He wrapped you in his arms without hesitation, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing at all. His cheek rested against your temple, one hand stroking slow circles on your back.

“I hate that you were sitting here crying all alone,” he murmured. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve run home in two seconds.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad,” you sniffled into his shirt. “You liked those sheets.”

“I like you more,” he said immediately. “Sheets don’t have dimples and a cute nose and the kind of laugh that makes my knees weak.”

You let out a shaky laugh, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

“In fact,” he said, drawing back just enough to cup your cheeks again, “now that you mention it, I do feel kinda betrayed.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

He narrowed his eyes playfully, lips twitching. “Yeah. I’ve been sleeping on those sheets for weeks. Why didn’t I get to be the one who bled on them dramatically?”

“…Sethos—”

“Do you know how cool that would be?” he continued with a mock-serious expression. “I could’ve woken up like, ‘Oh no… it’s happening. I’m ascending.’ You totally robbed me of my vampire main character arc.”

You stared at him in disbelief, and then you snorted. Loud. Ugly. The laugh kind that burst out uninvited.

He grinned, victorious. “There she is.”

You pushed at his chest half-heartedly, but he held you close, the teasing fading into something softer.

“I love you,” he said, voice sincere. “And nothing you do will ever make me love you less. Got it?”

You nodded against him, the last of the tears drying against his shoulder.

“Now,” he added, “get comfy. I’m gonna clean this up, make us tea, and then we’re watching whatever cheesy rom-com you want. No arguments.”

You smiled as he stood up and kissed your forehead, already tugging off the stained sheets without a single complaint.

Sethos was sunshine. Always had been. And today, you were thankful he shone even on the days you felt too messy to deserve the light.

WANDERER

Your relationship with Wanderer wasn’t toxic.

But it wasn’t close to those romance animes like HoriMiya.

You didn’t fight. You didn’t scream or throw cruel words. But there was a distance. a fog that never seemed to lift no matter how close you sat beside him, no matter how many nights you fell asleep with your face buried in the curve of his neck.

Wanderer loved you, probably. But he didn’t say it. He showed it in strange ways. holding your hand when no one was looking, brushing your hair behind your ear only when he thought you were asleep, staring too long when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

So when you sat up from the bed, groggy and warm, only to see the small red stain blooming across the pale cream sheets, your blood gone unnoticed during the night. your heart stopped.

Not because of the stain.

But because Nahida made those sheets.

He never told you that openly. You only heard it once, in passing. when you complimented how soft they were, and he muttered that they were custom, something the Lesser Lord gave him once during a quiet moment.

“Made from Sumeru cotton. Rare,” he’d said. “I didn’t ask her to, but she said I never slept well. So she thought I should try.”

He said it like it didn’t matter.

But his fingers had clenched a little tighter around the corner of the sheet, like it did.

And now they were ruined.

You sat frozen, staring. The blood was still fresh. It wasn’t a lot, but on that delicate, expensive fabric, it looked… violent.

Your first instinct was to scrub it out. The second was to cry. The third; terrible, frantic, was to lie. Pretend it was yours, something you spilled from a wound. Pretend you hadn’t touched them at all.

But before you could do any of that, the bathroom door creaked open.

He walked out slowly, towel around his neck, hair damp and tousled. And the moment his gaze flicked to you, then to the bed. he stopped.

Silence.

No expression on his face. Just stillness. Still enough to make your ears ring.

“I..” your voice cracked. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to. It must’ve started while I was asleep, I didn’t feel it, I—”

You bit your tongue before it spiraled further. You hated how easily your voice trembled around him.

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, eyes trained on the sheets. You watched his jaw clench for half a second. Then, a sigh. Tired. Heavy.

“...Why are you panicking?” he finally said, tone unreadable.

You looked at him, startled. “Because they mattered to you.”

“And?” he asked, voice a little sharper now. “You think I’m going to throw a tantrum over a stain?”

You flinched. “No, I just… I know how much you keep to yourself. I didn’t want to touch something that wasn’t mine.”

Something flickered in his expression. Barely there. Then gone.

“They were mine,” he said quietly. “But you’re in my bed, aren’t you?”

You blinked.

“That means they’re yours, too.”

Your throat tightened. “But they were from Nahida. I know how close you are to her. I know you don’t sleep well without them.”

He walked closer.

“I didn’t sleep well, until you started being here,” he said, almost bitterly. “Those sheets helped a little. You helped more.”

You stared at him, heart thudding. He avoided your gaze.

“Stop assuming I’m going to yell every time you mess something up,” he muttered. “I’m not… him. I’m not that version of me anymore.”

Your breath caught. He never talked about who he used to be.

But today, he did.

You sat in silence as he stepped past you and began pulling the sheets off the bed, moving with quiet efficiency. There was a tightness in his jaw, but no anger. He didn’t throw them. Didn’t scoff. Just peeled them off and folded them in his arms like it was just another chore.

“I’ll ask her if she can make another set,” he said, offhandedly. “She’ll probably tease me. She’s been waiting for something like this.”

Your lip trembled. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve told you sooner, but—”

“I know.”

You hesitated. “You’re not mad?”

Wanderer sighed again, and this time, it sounded less tired. He turned toward you slowly, stepping closer until your knees brushed.

Then, in the softest voice he could manage:

“I’ve done worse. You could spill ink, set something on fire, bleed through every expensive thing I own. I’d still pick you over any of it.”

You looked up at him, startled.

He avoided your eyes again.

“And anyway,” he added, deadpan, “you already ruined my peace. Might as well ruin my sheets too.”

You laughed. quiet, watery.

He finally met your gaze. And this time, you saw it. Not pity. Not irritation. Just a soft, tired kind of affection that looked almost like-

Forgiveness.

And maybe something deeper.

He reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, then mumbled:

“Next time, just wake me up. I’ll help you wash them.”

in conclusion: so yes, your relationship might not be like Horimiya or any romance animes out there. but..that doesn't mean your love for eachother isn't real.

KAZUHA

Your relationship with Kazuha was perfect.

Not in the unrealistic, fairytale sense. But in the kind that felt safe. Gentle. His voice never raised, his touch never harsh. Arguments. rare as they were, always ended with soft apologies and warm arms around you, wrapped in mutual understanding.

He loved you with patience. With poetry. With the kind of love that felt like early morning light slipping through curtains.

So why were you spiraling?

You stared at the red blot on the pale sheets. Just a small mark, really. The kind that would probably wash off if treated quickly.

But your brain wasn’t thinking in terms of laundry detergent.

It was spiraling. fast, irrational.

What if he minds?

What if he doesn’t say anything but feels differently?

What if he never sees the bed the same way again?

What if this changes something?

What if it makes me… ugly to him?

You gripped your hands tightly in your lap, already too emotional, already fighting back tears. You didn’t want to ruin anything. Not with Kazuha. Especially not with Kazuha.

You were so lost in your head that you didn’t notice when the door opened.

He stepped into the room quietly, holding a cup of warm tea in his hands. one of those sleepy blends he always offered you when you were in pain.

But the moment he noticed your hunched posture, the flushed embarrassment on your cheeks, and your trembling fingers… he paused.

“Beloved?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t respond at first. Couldn’t. You just stared at the sheets, then at your lap.

“…I stained them,” you finally whispered. “The sheets. I didn’t mean to. It happened while I was sleeping.”

Kazuha blinked once, and followed your gaze to the small mark on the bed.

Then, quietly, calmly. he walked forward, set the mug down, and sat beside you. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough that his presence could be felt, grounding you.

“Is that what’s troubling you?” he asked gently.

You didn’t answer. You were waiting for something. Disappointment. A sigh. Even just a look.

But none came.

Instead, he let a few seconds pass, then said softly, “The fabric is only fabric, my love. Easily washed. Easily replaced.”

Your throat tightened. “I know. I just… I got scared. I didn’t want you to be disgusted. Or uncomfortable. Or… not see me the same.”

Kazuha’s gaze turned toward you, soft and steady.

“You stained a piece of cloth,” he said. “Not our bond.”

You turned to him slowly, eyes wide.

He smiled. “You are not something to be ashamed of. Nor is this. It’s human. And I fell in love with you fully aware of what me and you are getting ourselves into.”

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing along your knuckles.

“Besides,” he added, almost teasing, “do you think I’d value cotton over the person who brings warmth to every night I lie here?”

You let out a small, wet laugh.

He smiled wider, then pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Come. We’ll change the sheets together. And after that, we can lie back down. I’d rather hold you than worry about anything else.”

You leaned into him, tears quietly slipping down your cheeks. not from shame anymore, but relief.

Because Kazuha never needed perfection. Just honesty.

And right now, you knew there was no one gentler to bleed around than him.

LYNEY

Lyney was the sweetest man you knew.

He made you laugh when you felt like crying, brought little surprises from every market trip, kissed your cheeks like you were the only magic he’d ever believe in. and he let you be. Just be. Loud or quiet, soft or guarded, he saw through it all and made you feel safe.

Even Lynette, usually expressionless and unreadable, had smiled more often ever since you entered their lives. Sometimes, she’d even nudge Lyney gently after a show, eyes glittering with quiet fondness, and murmur, “You’re lucky.”

You believed it too. Things were good. Really good.

You even caught yourself thinking, maybe it can last forever.

Until today.

Until you woke up and felt that ugly, sticky, painful sensation in your lower abdomen. The ache was sharp, like a low thrum behind your bellybutton, and it made you curl inwards on the bed.

You blinked groggily, disoriented for a moment, only to sit up and see it.

A bright, unmistakable stain across the middle of Lyney’s crisp, white sheets.

Your stomach dropped.

Panic came first. Then guilt. Then shame, because how could something so natural still make you feel so filthy?

You remembered Lyney telling you once that these sheets were from Fontaine’s famous fabric vendor. a gift from Freminet, who rarely ever gifted anything. They were soft, expensive, and something Lyney clearly treasured.

Now ruined. By you.

He had just gone out to check on his props for a show, saying he’d be back in half an hour.

You had thought about quickly changing the sheets, maybe even sneaking them into the wash before he noticed. but your cramps were making movement hard, and every second that passed only made your eyes sting more.

So when the doorknob turned, and Lyney walked in humming, your panic reached its peak.

You clutched the sheet tightly in your hands, your back hunched, tears already pooling in your lashes.

He paused the moment he stepped inside, instantly sensing the shift in the air. He saw the way you didn’t meet his eyes, the way your hands trembled, the raw redness in your face.

“…Chérie?” His voice was softer now. Concerned.

You still couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even look at him. You just whispered, brokenly, “I’m sorry…”

But instead of asking why, instead of being confused or demanding answers, Lyney crossed the room in three steps and gently took the sheets from your grip.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t scowl. He didn’t say a single word of disappointment.

In fact, he smiled.

“Mon chéri,” he said, brushing a few tears from your cheek with his thumb. “I have a twin sister. Do you think a little stain like this bothers me? When I’ve already dealt with Lynette in the past?”

Your lips trembled. “…But these were Freminet’s gift—”

“And Freminet will survive,” Lyney interrupted softly, voice full of light. “You didn’t destroy a castle, amour. You had an accident. A human one.”

You finally looked at him then, really looked. and what you saw was nothing but tenderness.

“You’re in pain, aren’t you?” he asked, glancing briefly at the way you held your abdomen.

You gave a small nod, lip wobbling.

“Then let’s focus on that first.” He stood up, folded the stained sheets as if they were no big deal, and set them gently aside. “I’ll run you a warm bath, find your favorite lounge set, and we’ll cuddle on the couch. We can burn a candle, drink tea, or just listen to soft music. Whatever you want.”

You were crying again, but for a very different reason now.

Lyney cupped your cheeks, leaned in, and kissed your forehead. “This doesn’t change how I see you. If anything, I’m glad you trust me enough to feel safe here.”

You hiccupped a laugh. “I was panicking.”

He grinned. “I figured. That’s why I brought your favorite cookies.”

You blinked. “You…?”

“I always bring them after prop checks,” he teased, reaching into his pocket and revealing a small pack with a bow. “Magic may be something I love, but making you smile is my favorite trick.”

And just like that, you did.

Because Lyney didn’t just love the best parts of you.

HEIZOU

Heizou was a talker in bed. smooth, smug, and insatiably curious, like intimacy was just another unsolvable case he wanted to crack open and understand. His hands explored your body with detective precision, teasing, testing, committing reactions to memory.

"You always get breathless when I hit here, huh?" he murmured with a knowing grin, angling his hips just slightly. again. (this little shit-)

You whimpered, thighs trembling, barely able to process his words before you clenched around him involuntarily. It was instinctual. He’d angled just right, brushed just there. The squeeze startled even you.

Heizou's breath hitched. His cock twitched inside you.

"...Well," he exhaled shakily, that self-assured smirk faltering. His grip tightened on your hips. “That wasn’t part of the usual pattern.”

You flushed, fingers clutching the sheets. “I-I didn’t mean to—” you tried to reason, you really did.

“Oh, but you did,” he smiled. you know that smile. it was one of his smiles that tell you he's not stopping till he figures out how to get that reaction out of you again. suddenly, that curious glint in his eye sharpening into something raw. “And now I’m going to figure out every way to make you do that again.”

He shifted his hips, deeper this time—slow, deliberate. You gasped, legs tightening around him.

“Ah. there it is,” Heizou whispered, voice hoarse. “Mystery solved.”

LYNEY

Lyney was theatrical even in moments like this. kisses like monologues, touches like flourishes, all designed to keep your attention wholly on him. But the mask slipped whenever you pulled him too close, too vulnerable.

Tonight, the room was dim with stage-light ambiance, his gloved fingers tracing lazy circles along your hips as he rolled into you with practiced grace.

"You really are my favorite audience," he purred. “You respond to everything.. I'm so so—”

You squeezed around him.

It was sudden, unintentional. You didn’t even realize you had until he stilled above you, mouth open mid-sentence. His pupils dilated.

“…Mon dieu,” he choked. His hand trembled slightly on your thigh.

you looked up at him, that action that came from your body surprising even yourself “Lyney, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” he rasped, brushing hair from your forehead. “Encore. Please.”

The mask was gone. All that was left was the boy beneath—needy, undone. He thrust once, harder this time, and your body instinctively clenched again.

His head fell to your shoulder, voice trembling: “You’ll be the death of me.”

KINICH

Kinich didn’t speak much, even during sex. He was steady, precise, hands strong with restraint. always calculating, always aware of the balance of give and take.

with the annoying pixelated dragon lizard currently in time out, you two took it as an opportunity to have an intimate session.

But tonight, he’d let you pull him down from that cold, distant place. His brows were furrowed, jaw clenched as he moved inside you. slow, controlled, as though he was afraid of breaking something fragile.

And then you squeezed.

It was subconscious, a natural response to how deeply he was pressing in—and it shattered something in him.

His breath punched out of his lungs. His rhythm faltered.

“…Don’t do that,” he hissed.

You froze. “I didn’t mean to..”

“I know,” he growled, hands digging into the sheets beside your head. “That’s what makes it worse.”

His forehead pressed to yours, voice trembling with restraint. “You do that again, and I’m not going to be able to hold back. You understand?”

And yet he didn’t move, waiting. Waiting to see if you’d do it again.

You did.

XIAO

Xiao was not used to pleasure. To closeness. Every brush of your skin against his felt like it burned.

He moved above you with trembling precision, sweat slicking his forehead, his golden eyes tight with focus—not on you, but on the monstrous restraint he was holding onto by a thread.

You clung to him, arms around his neck, breath trembling. His movements were unsure but deep, slow.

And then you clenched around him.

His eyes snapped open. He stopped moving entirely.

“…Did you—did you mean to do that?” he whispered, voice almost panicked.

You shook your head, flustered. “No, I just—”

“Don’t.”

His voice broke. “Don’t do that unless you’re ready for me to break.”

He pulled back slowly, then slammed forward, and your body responded the same way.

And Xiao lost control.

The soft restraint bled into primal motion, gasping breath, and his whisper of your name like a prayer he no longer deserved.

KAZUHA

Kazuha was tender. Every kiss felt like poetry, every moan like wind through leaves. He worshipped you like art, like something fleeting and infinite.

He moved with languid grace inside you, breath warm against your neck. “Let the wind take you,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

And then it happened. You clenched, accidentally, overwhelmed by how deeply he brushed your insides.

He gasped softly, barely audible. Then he laughed. breathless, disbelieving.

“…Ah,” he murmured, almost reverently. “That… that was beautiful.”

You blushed, fingers curling into his back. “I didn’t do it on purpose…”

“I know,” he whispered, forehead against yours. “And yet, it moved me.”

He kissed you deeply, shifting pace—not rushed, but full of intent now. Measured.

“I want to see if I can draw that same response again. As many times as you’ll allow.”

SETHOS

Sethos was all confidence. Golden grin, teasing hands, body full of heat. He knew he was good. and made sure you knew it too.

“Can’t hide that face from me,” he teased, nipping at your collarbone as he thrust deep, slow. “You love this.”

And you did.

You gasped, and your body reacted. squeezing around him tight. Unplanned. Natural.

Sethos froze. His cock twitched.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, voice cracking. “You just..holy shit.”

You blinked up at him, dazed. You were about to explain yourself, try to get away from this humiliating situation. but he didn't pull out, no. he went deeper.

“Oh babe,” he said, still inside you, his tone suddenly reverent, shaky. “You don’t have to mean it.”

He grabbed your thigh, lifted it higher. “You feel that good without trying?”

He thrust, hard. Your body clenched again.

“…Then I’m not stopping until you forget your own name.”

uhh yeah. good luck walking. also I lost wordcount but this is probably around 5k

XIAO

Quiet, Reverent, Protective

· Xiao is hesitant at first. He’s never touched anyone, never even thought it proper to want. His karmic debt keeps him distanced. he believes he doesn’t deserve the warmth of another person. But once you show him that you want him, that you’re not afraid of what he is, Xiao is hooked. Obsessed, even, in the quietest way.

· He’s touch-starved to the extreme. Your fingers grazing his arm leave him breathless. The first time you undress in front of him, his eyes burn with something between shame and raw hunger. He doesn’t know where to look doesn’t know if he should look, but he can’t stop.

· In bed, he’s reverent and intense. He doesn’t know how to go slow at first. his thrusts are fast, deep, almost punishing. not to hurt you, but because he’s desperate, overwhelmed, trying to memorize your warmth like a lifeline. He’ll pant your name like a prayer.

· Oral? He’s supperrrr eager but inexperienced. Once you guide him, he becomes focused, fingers bruising your thighs as he buries his face between them, seeking to make you come undone just from his mouth alone.

·Aftercare is shy but sincere. Xiao will hold you tentatively, brushing your hair out of your face and staring at you like you're some kind of sacred dream. If you fall asleep on his chest, he’ll whisper thanks to the wind spirits for letting him have this. even if just once.

WANDERER

(i love this little shit so much he's so annoying)

Snarky Dominant, Needy, Emotionally guarded

·Wanderer hides behind arrogance, especially in sex. He’ll call you names like “brat,” “needy,” or “filthy girl” while simultaneously being the one pulling your panties off like he’s dying for you. It’s all a mask. his ego, his teasing, his control. it’s how he copes with vulnerability.

· He loves being in control. He’ll pin your wrists, keep you in his lap, make you beg just to tease. But if you ever turn the tables, tie him down, ride him slowly while praising him. his composure shatters. The way he bucks up into you, the way his voice cracks? Addictive. ride the shit outta him and maybe you'll get a whimper from him

· Has a biting kink. Wanderer will leave bruises along your neck, chest, thighs. territorial and rough, but secretly so you’ll remember him even when he’s not around. He marks like it’s instinct.

· He’s loud. ISTG HE'S LOUD. Swears, grunts, filthy whispers of how tight you are and how he knows you love it when he fucks you like this. He’ll smirk as your body trembles, drunk off your reactions.

· Secret soft spot: If you pull him close after, bury your hands in his hair and kiss him slowly, he’ll fall silent. Stare at you. Then mumble something like “...I didn’t hate that.” Which, in Wanderer-speak, means he liked it a lot.

VENTI

Playful, Subtle brat, Sensual

·Foreplay is his favorite part. Venti will drag things out. like ghosting his fingers over your skin, kissing your inner thighs but never quite there, whispering poetry into your ear while pulling your clothes off. He loves seeing you squirm.

· He’s a switch but prefers to tease until you snap and take control. He’ll giggle when you straddle him, call you his “muse,” and grin like a devil when you finally lose your patience.

· Oral fixation. no other words. Loves going down on you he says your moans are sweeter than any wine. He'll stay down there for as long as you let him, murmuring praises while sucking your clit or teasing with his tongue.

-His emotions run deeper than he lets on. After sex, especially when it’s slow and intimate, he’ll pull you into his chest, hum lullabies against your hair, and quietly confess things he would never say when sober. Sometimes, he cries when he thinks you're asleep.

alt ending: kiss him for comfort and cuddle

HEIZOU

(little shit number 2)

Cocky, Calculated, Highly observant, Secretly sweet

· He knows your body too well. One look, one breath, and Heizou can tell what kind of mood you're in. You don’t need to ask. he’s already got a plan. Whether it’s a quickie in the archive room or a slow evening in bed, he adapts fast.

· He lovesedging you.nHolding a vibrator to your clit, teasing you with shallow thrusts, whispering “not yet” with a smile. You might cry. He loves it.

· Dirty talk genius. He knows exactly what to say to unravel you. “Such a good girl, letting me use you like this,” or “You’re going to come just from my fingers, aren’t you?” He’s never wrong. It’s infuriating.

· He can’t help but smirk when you beg, and he’s not above using handcuffs or silk ties if you’re being particularly stubborn. But once he decides to let you come? It’s mind-blowing. Multiple orgasms, overstimulation, he’ll make sure you’re shaking by the end.

· Aftercare king. He'll massage your sore spots, get you food and water, and even write down a “post-mortem” of what got the best reactions. All with his cheeky, charming smile.

KAZUHA

Gentle, Intimate, Passionate, Whisper-soft but overwhelming

· Kazuha makes love, not just sex. Everything with him feels like poetry. His kisses are slow and meaningful, his hands gentle but precise, and his voice is always low and tender when he speaks your name.

· He’s obsessed with how you sound. The hitch in your breath, the soft moans, he’ll whisper haikus against your skin while thrusting deep and slow, watching your eyes glaze over with bliss.

· Loves body worship. He’ll kiss every inch of your body, praising it like it’s sacred. You could spend hours just in foreplay with him, exploring each other in the warm candlelight.

· He’s a switch, but prefers intimacy. If you beg him to go rougher, he will—but there’s always a soft hand brushing your hair back, always murmured affirmations like “You’re doing so well, love.”

· He adores aftercare. Wraps you up in soft robes, runs his fingers through your hair, and quietly reads poetry to you or hums a lullaby. His touch never leaves your skin. Even in sleep, you’ll find him with an arm around your waist and his forehead pressed against your shoulder.

get mizu5 jumpscared

☂️ Wanderer

Initial reaction: He pretends not to care. Makes snide remarks like, “You look like a porcelain doll someone forgot to lock away.” But that’s his way of coping with how dangerously cute you look.

· Secretly stares longer than he should. He notices the details—the lace trim, the way the sleeves puff, how the ribbons fall along your shoulders. It tugs at some vague memory of softness he lost long ago.

· Won’t admit it, but he likes when your clothes brush against him. It’s grounding. He finds excuses to pluck imaginary lint from your skirt just so he can touch the fabric.

· If someone makes fun of your look, he’ll absolutely eviscerate them with words alone. “Funny how someone with the fashion sense of a broken mop thinks they can judge.”

· Eventually mutters a rare compliment when you're not looking: “...You suit that look. Not everyone can.”

👹 XIAO

· Silent admiration.He doesn’t know how to express it, but every time he sees you, his gaze lingers just a little too long. He keeps a mental list of outfits you’ve worn.

· Thinks you look delicate, like something from a dream or a lantern rite fairytale. It both captivates and terrifies him—he’s afraid he might ruin something so beautiful.

· Will be hyper-aware when walking with you in crowds. His hand hovers near yours to keep you close, not quite touching, but always there.

· Loves watching your sleeves flutter in the wind. He once said, “The way your clothes move... it’s like you’re not bound to the ground.” he got shy and teleported away when you tilted your head in confusion

· Tries to offer you flowers that match your look. Fails to explain why. Just hands them over awkwardly and leaves.

🧩 HEIZOU

· Instantly fascinated. “You're like a walking mystery novel wrapped in lace and bows,” he teases, clearly intrigued.

· Loves helping you accessorize—fixing a crooked ribbon or straightening your collar, using it as an excuse to get close. “Detective’s orders. The bow must be perfect.”

· Might jokingly ask you to go undercover with him for a case, claiming you’re “too distractingly cute to be suspicious.”

· Keeps a secret folder of outfit photos in his phone—not for pervy reasons, but because he likes analyzing which kinds of silhouettes suit you best. He has theories.

· Will jokingly flirt, but his compliments are genuine: “You wear sweetness like a weapon, don't you?”

🍁 KAZUHA

· Absolutely enchanted. The way you dress makes his poetic heart flutter. He’ll compare you to cherry blossoms, spring dew, and rare birds in his writing.

· He’s soft with you. Always offering his coat if you get cold, even if you're already layered. Gently adjusts the ribbons on your shoes so they don’t get caught while walking.

· Loves walking beside you in silence, stealing glances that he stores like verses in a poem.

· He will quietly sketch you from memory when you’re not around. Sometimes he includes you in his haikus. Once you found one by accident:

· "Lace glints in the breeze, A ribbon lost in the light, My reason to roam."

· Finds beauty in everything you wear and will never let you think otherwise.

(lowkey giggled kicking my feet while making Kazuha's part)

🍎 VENTI

· Immediately obsessed. “You look like a pastry! No—a love song! No, wait—a spring day!”

· Constantly writes poems and songs about your style. Doesn’t even bother hiding it. “This one’s called 'Frilly Little Muse' , inspired by you.”

· Will drag you into photo sessions with his lyre in tow. “Strike a pose, sweetheart! The world must see your beauty!”

· Loves when you twirl in skirts. Encourages it. If you won’t do it, he’ll spin you himself.

· Has a favorite outfit of yours and pouts when you don’t wear it: “The one with the ribboned collar and puff sleeves—it makes my heart do flips!”

i love mizuki akiyama sorry guys (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ )