Katara had noticed how he was growing his hair out. And honestly? She had to admit that she liked this new look on him. It suited him well in her eyes. “You know…” Katara starts. “This new look really suits you.”
As she commented on his new hairstyle, Zuko couldn't help but feel a touch of embarrassment, blushing alittle. He reached up unconsciously to touch his lengthening hair before replying, "Oh, ehm... thanks… I was afraid to look like too much of my father… but yeah… thanks again," he said with a small shrug, trying to sound nonchalant.
But beneath that casual facade, he was secretly pleased by her compliment. The fact that Katara liked it boosted his confidence more than he cared to admit.
@yourparasiite & @multianime liked ♡' for a starter !
⏝ ⏝ ≡ ✦ .. ﹍ ˖ ࣪ ⊹ 𓄹 𝐇𝐄’𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 — smiles laced with that easy, princely charm, a bow just theatrical enough to feed the crowd’s hunger. Victory looked effortless on him, and he let them believe it. Cameras snapped, voices rose his name like a hymn, and he answered it all with that velvet smile he knew they craved. Perfect, untouchable, Prince of Alien Stage. But behind the perfection, the pounding had already begun. Each flash of light drove deeper into his skull, each cheer a hammer-strike that made his teeth ache. The charm cracked the second he stepped off stage, traded for a clenched jaw and quick, almost frantic steps down a side corridor, leaving the noise behind before it could consume him whole.
The quiet was a balm, though not enough to dull the throb behind his eyes. his feet moved as if on autopilot. fixitaed through the empty hall, fragile and aching, a determination eager enough to cut through the pain without shattering him further. He knew where they were, drawn like a moth to the first gentle flame. And there they were. Poised, calm ( to a degree ), their presence filling the hollow spaces that the crowd’s roar had left in him. He didn’t think—he couldn’t afford to. The princely act had slipped away; what remained was something rawer, selfish. distant and apathetic. He stepped in close, boldness guided by desperation, arms sliding around till's waist before he even realized he was there. he wasn't so expressive. at least to those he let himself grow close to. but Heperu taught him ways. ways to survive through any means. he knew how to toy with emotions. a little too well. His forehead pressed into the small of his back, unruly curls fall upon his golden irses as he practically nestled close . A small, muffled whine escaped him. lips pursed into a pout.
❝ Too much, ❞ he admitted against him, voice low and frayed, no stage-brightness left in it. ❝ My head’s splitting ❞ His fingers tightened against his side, clinging.
ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤHe needed this, and he'd take it. he would be selfish.
the summer heat was getting to tanaka, especially after such a heated practice. but he had the thought of a nice cool shower in his head as he was walking side by side with noya. it was then that he took the other's hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips and gave it a kiss.
he was told not to kiss him as much in front of the other's during practice, but now that they were alone, he didn't have anything to hold him back.
"you know, you should stay over tonight, we could get some snacks at coach ukai's store and watch some movies or something. saeko's out of town so it would be just the two of us."
Akaashi hadn't seen Bokuto for quitz a while. Both had been busy with their jobs...Bokuto as player at MSBY and Akaashi as editor. They still texted. Still called and video called sometimes too; but it wasn't the same.
It's not like Akaashi missed volleybal perse... — but he did miss Bokuto. Sad modes and all. That's until he got a phone call. Both Hinata and Atsumu almost yelling at him that Bokuto was in a funk and there's nothng they did that helped. Instead of trying to find ways to cheer Bokuto up, he wasn't sure Hinata and Atsumu would be able to do that anyway; but he wasn't gonna say that out loud; he suggested to drop by for a visit. He also told them not to tell Bokuto about this.
And so — here he was. At the gym. Hidden in the shadows. Waiting for Bokuto's practice with MSBY to finish.
It had been a few weeks since he found Till trembling near the edge of town. He didn't understand how deep that fear went, and he never asked. After all, it never seemed like Till wanted to talk about it. Of course, Karlyle wouldn't just leave him there ⸻ well, at the beginning, he passed by him a few times on his way to take the bus. But when he noticed the way he sat there alone, like no one was coming for him, that no one cared enough to check on him, it made it harder for him to keep walking. The world could be cruel. . . and Karlyle knew that cruelty all too well.
So, he reached out, and took him with him.
" Hey, man. " Karlyle called out, setting a cup of tea on the bedside table. " Ye settlin' awright? I kno' it's been a few weeks, but we should get ye outside for a wee change, yeah? The air's no' gonna bite. " He fiddled with his hands as a small, rare smile pulled at his lips. Oh, he was very nervous. Why wouldn't he be? He was never one to stay in his own apartment for long and often found comfort in other people's homes. But now. . . he had Till, and leaving him alone wasn't right. Luckily for Till, Karlyle's apartment was huge, so he gave him his own room. It was one of the few perks of having wealthy, absent parents. Ugh, the mere thought gave his tongue a bitter taste. " Plus, I was thinkin' of gettin' ye a guitar. Saw ye the other day. . . ah, pretendin' tae play. Thought. . . maybe it'd be nice tae have one. If ye want, I mean. "
the fact that she wanted to come along with him to the market was something that warmed his heart. but he wasn't just going into town to get supplies--he was going to use some of his money to get her a hair clip. he wasn't sure what color or design yet, but he was sure that the moment he saw it, he'd know.
"i'm only going to be gone for a couple of hours, you don't have to worry. i'll be back before you know it."
"Katara? It's not even that late.. I'm just.. thinking.." Zuko was standing on a balcony, but turned back as she spoke. It was late… he was always late now. It had almost become a habit.
"Did I wake you?" He said a little worried about her health.
◡◡ 。긴 시간을 너와 .ᐟ.ᐟ ✦、 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . Not because the studio was hot — though the practice room had gathered the usual heat of too many bodies passing through, too many lights left on, too much equipment humming quietly in the corners — but because he had been holding it for far too long. His fingers had curled around the stapled pages until the edges bent slightly beneath his thumb, the paper marked with little creases where he had unconsciously pressed too hard.
Round 6. He had read the scene enough times that the ink may as well have burned itself behind his eyelids. He knew where Till was supposed to stand. He knew when the silence came in. He knew the blocking, the angle, the pause before the kiss — that painfully delicate stretch of seconds where Ivan was meant to look at him with such a yearnful gaze in turn his character decided to take his life and ruin himself for till's sake. He looked down at the marked section again, though he already had the scene memorized. He had memorized it the first night it was sent to him. Then again the second. Then again in front of the mirror, with a calm face and a pulse that refused to obey him.
Round 6. Kiss scene. The words had been printed so plainly, so professionally. As if they had not been sitting in the back of his mind all morning, patient and smug. Ivan exhaled through his nose, smoothing his expres sion into something composed. Something gentle. Something nearly innocent. It was a practiced expression. The eagerness, unfortunately, was harder to bury.
It lived in the bright focus of his eyes, in the faint lift at the corner of his mouth, in the way his steps were too direct as he crossed the set toward Till. He moved with his usual grace, quiet and easy, script tucked in one hand, but there was a barely restrained energy beneath it—as if he had been waiting for permission to approach and had finally decided permission was unnecessary. When he reached Till, Ivan tilted his head. ❝ Sunbae.❞ The word came out soft, polite, and perfectly shaped...a little too perfect.
Ivan smiled, his snaggle tooth poking the corner of his lip. He lifted the script between them with two fingers, tapping lightly against the page where the scene was highlighted. His thumb brushed over the margin notes he had written with unnecessary care. He could feel his heartbeat, not loud enough to embarrass him, but present enough to be annoying. A steady, traitorous thing.
❝ Are you ready to practice?❞ His eyes flicked from the paper to Till’s face. Then, with deliberate sweetness, he added, ❝ The kiss scene. its important we perfect it afterall sunbae. right ?❞ he hums in a tone that was just a little too light for the question it carried.
