![]() ![]() ![]() “Are you writing a declaration of love to someone?” You grinned from ear to ear, teasing him in any way possible. The smell of tea of smoke that filtered your nose from his nagagi that always hung past his shoulders was an odd yearn for, where your eyes looked over his bare lean back on show. “If you’re not wanting to write anything, can you not hover over my shoulder like a raven with a walnut?” Your eyes flitted to his gaze, the mere question had bubbled over a snort as you took a short step away from him. The words weren’t always so seemingly easy to read, but there was one that you could read that finished the piece that you recognised: “No, no I’m good.” You hummed, trying your best to read the kanji as best as you could. You had been peering over his shoulder when his movements halted, before putting the brush down as he looked up to you coolly. The next time you had spoken to him was when he was doing his writings quietly and peacefully, truly ignoring the noises and sounds around him as he worked in an almost mesmerising state, his calligraphy flowed like water across the paper as he moved in a dance, the words forming so delicately. You wanted to see in anyways how you could get him to react other than be so neutral, and bringing anything up that he did was the only way you could. Your interactions always followed with you trying in any way to get a reaction out of the Oni, but never did he react nor get angry at you, always patient in keeping his temper. You noticed, sipping once more at the strong tea that had nothing else added to it. “Whatever comes to mind,” he reiterated smoothly, his eyes looking down to your hands. “If you’re not doing a haiku, what are you thinking of writing, little one?” “I’m not one for poetry, I’m afraid,” you sipped at the pure green liquid, your face souring when you swallowed, watching the demon opposite you collectively sip at his tea nonchalantly, his face never changing. “I allow whatever comes to mind, without the hesitation of a blush stroke,” his voice was always soft and a lulling smooth deep timbre, never once quick to raise his voice, his mannerisms smooth and natural as if perfected for centuries. The flow stopped not even half-way before he distributed a small cup for himself. “Another haiku today, Isao?” You teased his name out from your lips, not so as elegantly taking your cup where his decent pouring begun. His skin was a mixture of cobalt and midnight blue, the range that you had seen always so stunningly and faultless, his magenta eyes always in a relaxed hooded position, with his hands resting between the teapot and his still smoking pipe against the table, patiently waiting for you in the subtly through the silence you had observed. You had come through from your sleeping spot to greet him: the tangled mess of your bed hair compared to his sleek hair the same shade as his ink he used, tangled-free and over his shoulder and never falling over, effortlessly a man of many talents without the need of showing off. Isao was never one for extravagant awakenings nor rude interruptions – quite the opposite in fact – for you don’t believe you had seen him once keep noise. His body was aligned and straight as he was knelt at his table, preparing the same tea he had without fail, his paper and inkstone at the ready for his early start to writing. ![]() He had been set up for the morning already when you had been awoken to the rancid smell of his pipe-smoking and billowing in the misty air. Tagging: monster x GN reader The Last of The Good Ones I just thought he looked cute and wanted to write a story around him. I kind of based this on yen-yen-yen‘s Oni, but I gave him the name of Isao.
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