#^ kind of pales in comparison to other things in a way

[0f-hazbin]

No offence

But it's kind of insulting to simply reduce people's love for a character down to the colour of said character's skin

It's a dismissive & divisive way of looking at things

A lot of people love Astarion because they relate to much of what he's been through

He's a very well written character, & a realistic portrayal of an imperfect abuse victim/survivor

His story, therefore, resonates with a lot of people

Listen

As much as I love Wyll, I feel his story is kind of lacklustre in comparison

He's a cool character, don't get me wrong

But, trying to get out of a contract with a devil feels much more abstract & less relatable than enduring & surviving something like abuse does

A lot of Wyll's characterisation was also rewritten after Early Access, in a way that I feel made him less interesting as a character

Can we please stop accusing fans of racial bias because some fans prefer the pale elf over the blade of frontiers?

Prefering one doesn't mean hatred for the other

all fandom is the same. just consistently picking the whitest milquetoast man who does horrible things for “justified” reasons and making them the most popular character while ignoring all the other women and characters of color in the cast. I’m not saying you cant enjoy characters who do bad things, by all means, but fandom consistently chooses the most conventionally attractive (read: caucasian) package that it comes in. Furthermore, y’all will worship poor bby astarion for being “forced” to prey on children and in the same breath complain wyll only does good things to stroke his ego. like ok I wonder what else you don’t like about wyll lol.

[femmefaggot]

what if i umm... like... gave u smth for the pure enjoyment of it for the first time

[gibbearish]

idk how to say this right but i feel like people going through aaron bushnell's reddit comment history to try and figure out how Morally Pure™ he was and therefore if you're allowed to support his actions or not are. missing the point. in a lot of ways

[snekdood]

personally, i dont see the fundamental difference between deleting your account and making a new one and deleting all your old posts, if we're talking about "running from ones past", then what are you tryna hide there, bud?

[girlgenius1111]

luckier than grapes

clearly into one another, neither you nor alexia do anything about it. alexia is convinced to make a move on new years. you're clueless. fluff :)

—

Playing with a team that performed at the caliber that Barcelona did should have been the most intimidating part of the whole moving to a different country thing for you. Somehow, it wasn’t. There were many intimidating things about it; a new language, a new style of play, a tight knit team, high expectations. All of that paled in comparison to the fear the Barcelona captain caused in you. 

You’d played against Alexia before, and she brought an intensity to the pitch that left you breathless. She was an otherworldly presence when she played. All furrowed brows and sharp words thrown at the ref. She was Alexia Putellas, one of the best in the world. She carried herself in a way that made you feel smaller, somehow. Like you were an amateur and she was an expert. Better yet, like you were playing for a high school team and she was… Alexia. Mononymous. 

When you’d joined the team, though, you didn’t meet the overwhelmingly perfect version. You met Alexia, your captain, who was running late because she spilled coffee in the hallway outside her apartment door, and didn’t want to leave it for somehow else to have to clean. She was still striking, still sent butterflies fluttering around your stomach. This time, it wasn’t because she intimated you. It was because when she smiled, one side of her mouth raising slightly higher than the other, you were a goner. 

Alexia was beautiful, anyone could see that. But as you spent the next few months getting to know her, you saw more. Alexia was gentle when she’d help you up after a rough tackle or wake you up on the plane to tell you it was time to get off. She was kind and caring, and fiercely passionate about her friends. You were drawn to her in a way you couldn’t really explain, and miraculously, it seemed she was drawn to you in the same way. 

Chats in the locker room turned into grabbing lunch with her after training. Rides home from matches turned into movie nights where you both passed out on the couch. 

You told yourself it was platonic. What else could it be? The chances that Alexia felt something for you outside of friendship… that just wasn’t possible. In the few months you’d gotten to know her, she’d become your best friend. You weren’t naive to your true feelings, but you were firm that there was no way they were returned. As quickly as you’d fallen for Alexia, you’d convinced yourself you could never have her. That she’d never feel the same way. You were addicted, or maybe you were just hopelessly in love. Either way. You valued your friendship with her too much to put it in jeopardy by confessing your feelings. And if you couldn’t have her as your girlfriend, you’d settle for having her as your best friend. Because any Alexia was better than no Alexia. 

You could pretend her touch didn’t send chills up your spine, or that her laugh didn’t instantly bring a smile to your face. You could pretend that making her smile didn’t feel better than winning all the titles in the world, or that you liked to take her sweatshirts not because they smelled like her but because they were just oversized and comfy. You could pretend. You just didn’t know how long you could pretend for. 

You didn’t know a lot of things, it turned out. 

—

“Alexia, if you don’t invite her, I will and I’ll bother you about it anyway, so you might as well just–”

“Fine! Fine, María. You are so pushy sometimes.” Alexia snapped, her eyes flickering over to where you were chatting with Kika, her frustration with her friend almost evaporating as she watched you laugh. 

“And you are hopelessly in love and I can’t take it anymore. So if I have to be pushy, I’ll be pushy.” 

Alexia didn’t even bother contradicting Mapi. That ship had sailed weeks ago when she’d had too much wine at dinner with her sister and she’d called Mapi half sobbing about how much she liked you. Drunk Alexia was an evil Alexia, she’d decided. Because now Mapi knew and the defender was making her do something about it instead of pining after you from afar. 

She began to walk in your direction, trying to hype herself up and failing miserably. You didn’t like her like that. She was sure, absolutely convinced. There was just… no way. No way on earth or in heaven. But here she was, like an idiot, about to stumble her way through an invite to a New Year’s Eve party because for some reason, her words tended to become all jumbled when she talked to you. 

As soon as you spotted her walking in your direction, whatever conversation you’d been having with Kika promptly fell out of your head. Kika, oddly, seemed to disappear the next second, as if knowing to give you and Alexia a moment to yourselves. Strange. 

“Hola.” Alexia said softly, her hands twitching at her sides as if she wanted to give you a hug or something. 

“Hi.” 

“Um… I have a question.” Alexia said, switching to English so she was sure you’d understand. Her accent made your heart beat faster, as it always did. 

“Shoot.” You replied.

Alexia’s eyebrows knit together, a look of confusion washing over her face. “Shoot? Like a ball?” 

Biting your lip to keep from chuckling you shook your head. “Kind of? It’s a saying. It means ask your question. Go for it.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Alexia nodded, trying to regain her composure. Her hair was falling out of the ponytail it was in, you could see a sheen of sweat across her forehead, and you were completely bewildered at how someone could look so beautiful after several hours of intense exercise. “Vale, you said you would be home for New Years Eve? There is a party, Patri is throwing a party. And I wanted to invite you. So… I am. Inviting you.” 

There were no errors in Alexia’s words, and you couldn’t help but feel that she had rehearsed what she’d just said before. It was a bit awkward, too, but Alexia was always a bit awkward. At least around you. 

“I’d love to come.” You smiled back, pretending you weren’t analyzing every single part of what she’d just said. 

“Good! I.. want you there.” Alexia said quickly, hoping you’d attribute the flush of her cheeks to the heat and the workout. You didn’t even notice it though, too busy staring at her eyes, and how one of them was a bit lighter than the other. 

“I’ll be there then.” 

The two of you smiled at each other, more oblivious than any two people had potentially ever been before. With a few more words exchanged, you headed in for the locker room and Alexia bounded back over to Mapi like an overexcited dog. There was something… different about this. You and Alexia hung out all the time, but the way she’d asked about New Years…as if it meant something. It was several weeks away, though, so you had plenty of time to think about it and figure out what specifically Alexia’s game was here. 

—

And think about it, you did. All through the break. Christmas may not have even occurred and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you could think about was her on New Years. What would she wear? Why had she invited you so… formally? What would she wear? Was this… could it possibly be what you secretly hoped it was? What would you wear?

By the time the 31st came around, you were still just as confused as you’d been before the break. You and Alexia had talked, often, but it didn’t feel different the way her question about the party had. Even when you fell asleep on facetime together on Christmas Eve, it didn’t feel… weighted, like her invitation had. It felt normal, comfortable. Safe. Alexia always felt very safe. 

That was what you focused on, as you got dressed for the party. You forced your brain to stop overthinking, and just reminded yourself of several things. You always felt safe with Alexia. You always had fun with Alexia. There was no way your feelings were requited so there was nothing to be nervous about. You were alarmingly calm, as you walked into Patri’s apartment, a nice bottle of champagne and a bag of grapes in your hand. 

That calmness lasted all of 10 seconds, after which you spotted Alexia in a lace crop top and black jeans and you forgot how to breathe.

—

Alexia was nervous. She didn’t really get nervous, but here she was, watching you walk in through the front door and feeling her pulse quicken rapidly. You were greeted by Patri, hugging her tightly and handing over the things you’d brought, unaware of your captain’s eyes on you. 

“Be cool.” Mapi instructed. “Casual, but confident. Be yourself but don’t–”

“Get away from me before I pour your drink on you.” Alexia mumbled, fixing a smile on her face as she watched you look in her direction, raising your hand in an adorable little wave. She’d thought about how this would go for weeks, since you’d agreed to come to the party. She thought and thought and thought, and somehow, as you walked towards her, she was completely blank on what to say. 

“Hey, you.” You greeted, smiling that soft smile Alexia never really saw you give anyone else. She swallowed hard, forcing her brain to start functioning again. 

“Hi… um. How are you? How was your flight?” 

“God, awful. Delayed and I got moved to a middle seat and I barely slept at all. I’m so exhausted, I almost didn’t come, but I knew you were looking forward to it so I drank some coffee and threw an outfit on and here I am.” 

It was a long winded answer not at all justified by the question, yet you felt that familiar comfort take over as you looked at Alexia, at her soft hair falling to her shoulders and the hazel of her eyes. All she had to do was look at you, and you were talking, telling her every detail of your day. 

“Well, I am glad you came, but I am sorry you are tired. And it does not look like you threw that outfit on. You look… good. Really good.” Alexia blushed, gripping her champagne flute tightly in her hands. 

You blinked, a shy smile spreading across your face. Maybe… maybe you hadn’t misunderstood the undertone of her invitation to this party. The thought barely took hold in your head before it was pushed away. 

“I have to go find Mapi for something. I’ll see you later.” Alexia said suddenly, turning and walking away from you so fast, she was out of sight before you could even process what had happened. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what was going on now. It had seemed like, for a minute.. maybe. But no. She’d rushed away like she couldn’t get away from you fast enough, and you cursed yourself for getting your hopes up, even if it was just for a minute. You had to resign yourself to the fact that Alexia was your friend and nothing more. 

With a deep breath, you turned away from the spot Alexia had vacated, looking around for Pina. You needed a shot. And she’d give you one, surely. 

—

“Ale, breathe.” Mapi insisted, eyes flickering back and forth as Alexia paced the length of Patri’s bedroom, her panic taking over completely at this point. The defender had very aggressively pulled away from the conversation she was in with Ingrid, finding herself in Patri’s bedroom with Alexia before she had a chance to yank her arm back. Alexia, it seemed, was panicking. 

“I told her she looked really good! What was I thinking letting you talk me into this. She doesn’t like me, María, she doesn’t. This is insane, and I’m not doing it.” 

Mapi rolled her eyes. “You better or I’m locking the two of you in this bedroom until you do it.” 

“I can’t kiss her!” Alexia half shouted, throwing her hands up in the air and flopping down onto Patri’s bed. 

Mapi sat on the edge of the bed next to her, an amused smirk pulling at her mouth. “Do you not know how to–”

Alexia removed her hands from her face, her glare intimidating enough that Mapi trailed off without Alexia having to say anything. 

“Look, Ale, it’s a good plan. You kiss her. It’s midnight on New Years, it's what people do.”

“It’s cliche.” 

“But that is what's perfect. You kiss her. She likes it, you’re good. She asks you what the hell you’re doing, you say… Everyone needs a New Year's kiss. It’s tradition.” 

“That’s insane, she isn’t going to buy that!” 

Mapi sighed, frustration bubbling over. “It won’t come to that! She likes you, Ale, she wants you. Just trust me.” 

Alexia inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nervous system down. This wasn’t her. She was Alexia. She was confident and sure of herself, even if you had a magical ability to see right through all that. Alexia had learned a long time ago that if you carried yourself with confidence, you’d become confident.  

She stood with a renewed purpose, taking a few more calming breaths. “Okay.” 

Without another word, she left the room, leaving her best friend sitting on the bed, utterly confused as to what had just happened. Mapi checked her watch. 11:55. She’d find out soon enough what Alexia had decided, she thought. 

— 

When Alexia reappeared, she seemed much calmer. Maybe it was the two shots you’d taken in a row at Pina’s insistence, but she seemed like herself as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and casually steered you to the corner of the room. 

“This is the best spot for the countdown.” She declared, hoping you wouldn’t ask why because she didn’t have a reason other than… everyone would be facing forward, watching the TV, and not looking at the two of you. Luckily, you just nodded your head, looking around the room. It was quite full of people, and you wondered if maybe Patri could set you up with one of her friends. You had to get over this crush, you decided, because it was going to ruin your friendship with Alexia if you didn’t. It was a minute or two to midnight, surely you could find some random girl to kiss. This was Patri’s party after all. 

But Alexia was staring at you, you noticed out of the corner of your eye. You turned to her, seeing that the nervous energy had returned and she was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, one of her feet tapping on the wood floor. 

“I–”

“Are you–?”

Both of you spoke at the same time, laughing slightly as you both gestured for the other to continue. 

“You first.” Alexia insisted with a smile. She was wearing some kind of lip gloss and it was… distracting, to say the least. 

“I… uh.” You shook your head, trying to clear it of thoughts of Alexia’s lips. “Are you okay? You seem nervous?” 

Alexia looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen for a moment before she bobbed her head up and down. “I am fine! Just excited.” 

“If you’re sure.” You looked at her skeptically, briefly reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Anyway, what were you going to say?” 

“Sí, vale.” Alexia nodded, trying to ignore the stares of Mapi and Ingrid and Patri and Pina and Kika and the entire team who were more focused on her than the countdown on the TV. She knew Mapi would open her big mouth and now she had an audience. 

She took another calming breath, letting the attentive look on your face relax her. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, something about liking you or maybe about kissing you, she wasn’t sure, you spoke. 

“Where are your grapes?” You asked, realizing with a jolt that it was a minute to midnight and Alexia was grapeless. 

Alexia froze. “My… what?” 

“Your grapes! The twelve grapes at midnight, under the table in under a minute. Did you forget to bring some? I brought extra, in case anyone forgot theirs, let me go get them–” 

Of course you’d brought grapes for a tradition you didn’t even participate in. It was one of those things that was so thoughtful and so you, Alexia was almost overcome with adoration. She couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t pretend any longer. As you turned to rush to the kitchen, knowing you didn’t have much time, Alexia grabbed your hand and spun you back around to face her. 

Your question died in your throat as she cupped your face in her hands and leaned in and kissed you. Kissed you. Alexia kissed you. You were stunned for a moment before your instincts took over and you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her body flush into yours. It was the most natural thing in the world, kissing Alexia. Feeling her soft lips on yours, her thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. Feeling her. It was… right. She pulled away, her eyes fluttering open and finding yours, just a few inches away. 

You looked awestruck, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not, though she was absolutely sure you’d been kissing her back. Arms still linked together around her neck, you shook your head slightly, as if waking yourself from a daze. 

“You… kissed me.” You murmured. 

“It is New Year's.” Alexia said, biting her lip as she stared at you, waiting for any kind of decisive reaction. 

“It’s not midnight yet.” 

“I could not wait any longer.” 

The voices of the crowd echoed around you, counting down as the clock struck midnight, but all you could do was stare at Alexia in astonishment. You couldn’t really formulate any thought other than… oh my god. 

Words were failing you, so you surged forward, kissing Alexia again. It was even better the second time, if possible. Her arms held you securely against her, and you felt the smile on her face just before she pulled away again. 

“I really like you.” You mumbled, voice barely audible as the countdown ended and everyone cheered, wishing each other a happy new year. 

“I really like you, too.” Alexia replied, pressing her forehead to yours. “I have been wanting to do that for a while.” 

You smiled, too, allowing her to pull you closer. You hugged her tight, pressing your face into her shoulder. You still couldn’t quite believe it. But over Ale’s shoulder, you could see your teammates high-fiving and cheering, and you knew it had nothing to do with the New Year. 

This wasn’t some fever dream. It was real. 

“Your grapes.” You said again, pulling back from the warm hug to look at Alexia. 

She just laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I think kissing you is luckier than grapes.” 

You melted at that, pushing a strand of fading blonde hair away from her face. “Kissing on New Year's… kind of cliche, no?” 

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” 

Before you could decide whether to shut up or not, she was doing it for you. Alexia kissed you again, ignoring the wolf whistles from your teammates. She’d found her new favorite thing. And if she had to make a resolution, it would be to kiss you every second of every day.

You felt the same; if anything could bring you luck in the New Year… it was Alexia. 

—

i wrote this in like two hours i hope it isn't terrible!!!!

[rafesplaymate]

The Other Woman

Rafe Cameron x Stripper!Reader

݁༉‧₊˚. navigation. ݁༉‧₊˚. masterlist.

warnings: angst. cheating (not on reader). substance use. descriptions of smut. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: there will be no second part

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

“The other woman has time to manicure her nails

The other woman is perfect where her rival fails.”

Her arms feel like the sun on a breezy day. Shining on him and encasing him in warmth while the cool winds prickle at his skin. Her scent like a pheromone that was designed solely to attract him. Her skin like expensive silk under his fingertips, delicate and smooth. Her lips felt like satin, brushing and sponging against his skin, lips and body in a way that was entirely addictive. She was entirely addictive; she was his haven. The luxury between her legs only he had access too. Her arousal was a flavor that could never be matched and that he yearned for when she wasn’t on his tongue. Slipping inside her felt like he had a taste of heaven, something he was entirely dedicated to worshipping. She was a deity he would willingly sacrifice his soul and life to.

“Baby… she keeps calling you.” Whispered out that voice that was like a sweet symphony to his ears and calmed down the ocean of complex emotions that dwelled in his heart. Rafe groaned in disappointment at his moment of peace being interrupted once more, burying his face deeper in the softness of her tummy while her manicured nails grazed his scalp. Feeling the soft pricks of hair under her smooth finger tips, touching him with a delicacy only she knew how to have. He sighed once more before bringing his head up and reaching a hand over to the incessant buzzing next to them in her satin sheets. Watching as Sofia’s contact showed for the 5th time that hour.

Rafe can’t exactly blame her, he promised her a nice dinner. Yet, he got to caught up in the girl who captivated his entire being and the one whose inner legs he finds solace in every night or day he can. Just seeing her glimmering smile or seductive gaze makes his knees buckle. He’s entirely fascinated by her, like a diamond in the rough of people who inhabit the island they live on. She’s unlike anything or anyone he’s ever known, the way she maneuvers her body on stage and glimmers under the club lights. The way he was entirely bewitched by the siren she was. He won’t ever forget the night Topper and Kelce dragged him out to a club he had no interest in being at. Small, yet no conviction in his claims of, ‘I have a girl, bro.’ He’s so entirely grateful he went. Topper’s convincing of, ‘what she doesn’t know won’t kill her, man. Trust there’s this girl there that will drive you insane. She’s got me and Kelce hooked.’ To which Rafe gave a small eye roll and scoff of, ‘any girl with her tits out has your attention.’ Topper only laughed and Kelce along with him before biting back a, ‘but hers are premium.’ As they all toppled into his truck.

That night was fate, and he knew that any woman he met or has yet to meet will pale in comparison to the goddess who’s enthralled his being and keeps him stuck in a perpetual state of desire for her and her alone. The moment he saw her glide across stage, in nothing but glimmering lingerie and wild hair. Her eyes packed on with glitter and pretty lips glossed so enticingly. Her body the kind of thing men carve into stone to keep as a recollection for life. The way she slithered across stage with her eyes set on him and only him. Singling him out while the cheers and hoots of his friends, other club goers and patrons faded into the background. Both of them fascinated with one another. The way she slung herself across his lap with her freed tits pressing into him and her intoxicating perfume swirling around him like an aphrodisiac.

“The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume.”

He paid for a lap dance that very night and let her help him escape in the private room under glaring, neon pink lights. Running his hands over every inch of her beautiful body as scraped her long nails against his skin and moved sensually across him. That night sealed their fate, and it didn’t take much convincing to let him take her home to Tannyhill. Making out in the back of Topper’s truck while him and Kelce smirked as they watched through the rear-view mirror. Praising their friend and promising to seal their lips when they were dropped off. That night y/n and Rafe brought their bodies and souls together, all night long. Sweat sticking them together as her inner thighs dripped with their mixed arousal. Their lips not leaving any inch of each other‘s bodies undiscovered. He marked her that night with his possession and allowed her to rake her nails down his strong back, calculating in his mind how he’d hide it from Sofia.

After that night any thought of another woman aside from the one under him was gone, his girlfriend included. The unsaid energy bringing their souls together as if they were lovers destined to meet. He licked and snorted lines off her body as he rubbed the powdery substance against her gums. Pouring champagne on her as he licked it up and let it soak his sheets right next to her arousal. She was like an added substance he was quickly growing addicted to and he knew this was an addiction that would never end. He took her apart over the balcony under the stars of the night sky as she whined and whimpered into the warm air. He was king and she would be queen.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

Now months later their affair is still going strong, he more often than not finds himself entangled in her at her penthouse he put her into. Vowing to move her into his mansion next. He’s yet find a way to end things with Sofia, he knows y/n is the one he wants to settle with. He wants everything with her. Aside from the passion that connects them physically it’s the understanding of their minds that really links them together. She understands him, she loves him in all his dark glory. Allowing him to be himself without feeling the need to try and fix him. Her understands her, in all her shady grandeur. They’re just as fucked up as one another; she’s not ashamed of who he truly is. She doesn’t keep him from changing either, she grows alongside him as the learn to love one another beautifully.

Rafe tells her about his dad, the pogues, even the yearning he has to reconcile with his sister. He cries to her and lets her hold him as he sobs into her naked chest, feeling her kiss his tears away. She always whispers soft, ‘let it out, baby. it’s okay, I’m here.’ Consoling him with gentle caresses and kisses. He feels guilt, guilt for keeping her in the shadows of secrecy. Yet, he’s not ready for the universe they’ve built for themselves to come to an end. He doesn’t want to share her with the world, he’s selfish and wants her all to himself. He keeps her locked away in the luxurious penthouse he’s granted her and has even taken her out of the club by providing for her. She’s his hidden gem, he knows it hurts her. It hurts him too.

He finds it difficult to end things with Sofia. Her softness and kindness to him never forgotten. He’s still fond of the girl who was there for him when no one else was. Who listened to him cry and his grieving words as he spread his father’s ashes into the ocean. Sofia is familiar, she’s routine. She’s comfortable in a different way and he doesn’t want to let it go. He knows he deeply adores y/n, he loves her with every fiber of his being. But he loved Sofia first, she’ll always have a place in his heart for the kindness and love she granted him when he needed it most. That’s why he leaves y/n every morning to go back to her. He knows it’s cowardly; he knows it’s completely selfish. He can see the tears falling from her closed eyes as she pretends to be asleep while he softly walks around the bedroom as to not wake her when he leaves in the mornings. He always knows she’s awake. Especially when he presses a kiss to her forehead as he softly strokes her hair. Promising with a whisper to her skin that he’ll be back and that he loves her. He’ll always go back for her, he’ll always go back to her.

When he greets Sofia, she looks at him with those pretty doe eyes that are so different yet just as beautiful as the ones he’s grown accustomed to love. Natural lashes in comparison to y/n’s pretty extensions he pays for. They’re both so beautiful, yet so different to him. Especially in the way they hold his gaze. When he kisses Sofia it’s not quite as intoxicating, yet he likes it nonetheless. Her scent not as addictive but he still finds himself burying his nose into her neck as he hugs her. While Sofia is all earthly beauty, y/n is pure glamour. Sofia is soft, meek, not a touch of makeup kisses her pretty face. Whereas y/n is more resilient, durable and she has to be in the line of work she succumbed to. With the way of life she lived. Her gorgeous face accentuated by flawlessly done makeup. He doesn’t think she needs it, but he loves it nonetheless. Sofia’s nails are always blunt and rarely polished, y/n’s nails always have a nicely perfected manicure. Sofia loves sandals and sneakers, y/n loves wedges and heels. Sofia’s lips always moisturized with chapstick, y/n lips always glimmering with gloss. He likes how different they are from their personalities to their styles. They’re like day and night. Polar opposites so beautiful in their own right. He’s a selfish, selfish man. He knows one day he’ll have to choose, but for now….he holds both hearts in the palm of his hand. Only one of them is feeling the stabbing pain of abandonment and pining the other has the pleasure of not being subjected too. He knows it, yet he can’t help it. Sofia is pure routine, y/n is his passion. Being with her is like being inebriated. Like an adrenaline rush he always craves, that he loves. He lives for it.

“And when her old man comes to call

He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen.

‘Cause to be by her side

It's such a change from old routine.”

Y/n waits, she always will. She knows he’ll be back. She’s begged him to stay, but he never does. Just a quick promise of his awaited return as his fully clothed body steps to her naked one which is kneeling in the satin sheets. A representation of the vulnerability she’s subjected herself to just for his approval. Her long lashes clumped with tears as her chin wobbles. He thinks she looks so beautiful like this; the dark part of him liking the way she longs and whines for him. He always gives her chin a quick pinch as he pulls away from their kiss and steps out of the bedroom. Y/n always falls back into the sheets as the tears that watered in her lash line fall down her smooth cheeks. Listening to his footsteps farthering and ultimately the front door closing shut as he leaves her once more.

She knows why, she knows what she is. A secret, a mistress. His side girl. She can’t help it; the desire she has for him overcoming her self worth and respect for his girlfriend. She feels the grief that fills her body every time he leaves, only to disappear every time he returns. She can’t bring herself to end it. Can’t bring herself to leave him alone, or give him an ultimatum that it’s me or her. She knows it’s pathetic, yet she can’t bring that thought to overcome the undying love she’s developed for him. So she does as he wants, she waits for him. She always will. When her body lays back down, and she’s sure he’s gone. Only then is when she lets the overwhelming hurt leave her body in sobs of pure anguish as she lets sleep overtake her body. Succumbing to the fatigue of a heart that is continually broken.

“The other woman will always cry herself to sleep

The other woman will never have his love to keep.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

a/n: was feeling angsty tn ugh. i hope you all enjoy, pls let me know your thoughts! muah!

© 2024 | rafesplaymate

[solxamber]

If its alright for you^^ Can you do Malleus, Vil, and Jade with gn reader being an angel (reader inspired to Robin fron Hsr and also Columbina, or seraphim if thats what they both are). Being and Ethereal—how would they be in a relationship with Reader? Write how you like! Also could you write a little angst on Vil envying because reader is much more beautiful than him.

Malleus, Vil, Jade with an Angel! reader

I hope I've interpreted it correctly and I hope you like it <3

Malleus Draconia

Being in a relationship with someone as ethereal as you—a being reminiscent of a seraphim, with an almost divine presence—would captivate Malleus in ways even he didn’t fully understand. Your wings, your aura, everything about you felt ancient, otherworldly, and yet, in your company, he felt something warm and grounding.

He’d spend countless nights with you under the stars, speaking of things beyond mortal comprehension, your shared silence often saying more than words ever could. He cherished how you never treated him with fear but rather saw him as an equal, someone to confide in, to trust, to protect.

However, Malleus couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty at times. While he was powerful, revered, and feared, you were something altogether different—transcendent. Your beauty wasn’t just physical; it was the kind of grace that belonged to myths, a presence so strong that even the most stubborn fae would bow their heads to you.

He’d watch you as you moved gracefully, your wings casting soft, shimmering light that seemed to ease his darkest thoughts. Malleus loved you deeply, but there were moments where he pondered: how long would this peace last? Could someone as divine as you ever truly remain grounded by someone like him?

And yet, each time those doubts surfaced, you’d turn to him with a gentle smile, sensing his unease. “Malleus, I chose you. Not because of your power or your lineage, but because of your heart.” And in those moments, Malleus knew that no matter how distant the stars seemed, you’d always stand by his side.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil Schoenheit, a man who built his world on beauty and perfection, found himself in a relationship with someone whose very existence redefined those concepts. Your ethereal presence—a being so breathtaking that even the sun seemed to shine less brightly in comparison—challenged everything Vil once held dear.

He adored you, admired you, but in the quiet moments of solitude, envy crept into his heart. How could he, the man known for his flawless appearance and impeccable standards, ever compare to you? His reflection in the mirror seemed duller these days, his beauty pale in comparison to your effortless grace.

Vil wouldn’t voice his insecurities, of course. He was Vil Schoenheit, after all—poised, confident, and above all, perfect. But you could see the cracks in his armor, the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was searching for a flaw that didn’t exist.

One evening, after a particularly intense photoshoot, Vil found himself alone with you, the two of you resting in his dressing room. You could feel his tension, the way he was fidgeting, unusually quiet. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“Sometimes... I wonder what it's like for you,” Vil murmured, not meeting your eyes. “To be so effortlessly beautiful. To have all eyes on you, not because of your hard work, but because... because you simply are.”

You reached for his hand, your touch soft, like the brush of an angel’s wing. “Vil,” you began gently, your voice carrying a soothing quality. “Your beauty is more than what people see on the outside. You work hard, you inspire others, and your drive is what draws people to you.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “But it’s not enough, is it? I will never be able to match you.”

You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Vil, I never asked for you to match me. I fell in love with you—your strength, your vulnerability, your passion. You don’t need to be more than who you are. You’re already enough for me.”

Vil closed his eyes, letting your words sink in, though the jealousy still lingered in the recesses of his mind. But, for tonight, with you by his side, he allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t need to compare himself to the divine when you already saw him as someone irreplaceable.

Jade Leech

Jade would find your ethereal nature endlessly fascinating. From the first moment he saw you, he knew there was something different about you. Your wings, your almost serene grace—everything about you was an enigma, something he wanted to unravel.

In his mind, you were a creature of beauty, but also of great mystery. He loved the way your mere presence could change the atmosphere in a room, turning the mundane into something almost magical. He loved even more how you seemed unphased by the chaotic nature of his twin, Floyd, or the dangerous waters of Octavinelle.

"Fascinating," Jade would often muse, his eyes gleaming with curiosity whenever he caught you mid-flight or gazing at the ocean, as if seeing it through otherworldly eyes.

You would tease him for it, smirking as you caught his stare. “You know, you don’t have to analyze me like one of your mushroom specimens.”

He’d chuckle, not denying it in the slightest. “Can you blame me? You’re far more intriguing than any mushroom I’ve encountered.”

While you remained an enigma, your kind and grounded nature endeared you to Jade in ways he couldn’t quite explain. You had this ability to see through his carefully constructed facade, to touch the softer parts of him he rarely let anyone witness. Whenever he was feeling particularly mischievous or cryptic, you had a way of disarming him with just a smile or a well-timed quip.

One night, after hours spent exploring the coral reefs beneath the surface, the two of you floated together in the calm waters, stars reflecting off the surface above. He looked at you, his gaze softened by the water’s gentle ebb and flow.

“You’re like a rare treasure from the deepest trenches of the sea,” Jade whispered, voice low and contemplative. “Something that shouldn’t exist, and yet, here you are.”

You smiled softly, your wings brushing against the water as you drifted closer to him. “And yet, here we are,” you echoed, leaning into his embrace.

Jade, despite his usual composed and calculating nature, found something precious in the way you balanced him, in the way your kindness and ethereal presence made him feel less like a creature of the depths and more like someone who could reach the surface—if only for you.

Masterlist

[jezabelle9299]

You're It for me S.R x FEM! reader

Overture- Your walking through a used bookstore when you spot an old magazine with your boyfriends face on the cover-- not for his academic ability

CWs- Comparison to Lila Archer, feeling replaceable, this is diet angst- I don't have the guts or skill for the truly heart wrenching, kissing

A/N- I was kind of picturing an early season 2 Spencer? Like they've been dating for a while, but like-- not more than maybe 2 years, so they're still a little bit nervous. Also this is the first of many things I'm doing this December so hopefully everything goes well and if you want to read any of the other things I'm doing you could do so HERE

Right in your favorite used bookstore, on top of some other old magazines, there it was. It caught your eye at first because of the vibrant photo— but when you stopped to look you saw a beautiful young actress rubbing her face onto your wonderful boyfriend's hand. You felt sick, but you pushed through it to buy the stupid thing so you could read it. 

You barely made it through the checkout line, pale as a ghost and wishing you’d never walked in there. Because why didn’t he tell you? The publishing date was only months before you started dating and he hated touch. Was this a long relationship? An intimate moment no one else was supposed to see?

By the time you got to your car you’d ripped the plastic covering off the magazine opening up the article about Lila Archer. You hadn’t really heard of her before, but she was gorgeous. The more you read about the ‘secret relationship’ between her and Spencer the more upset you got— until in one of the final sentences it said one of their reporters found them in a pool—fully clothed—making out. Spencer. Your germaphobic boyfriend who was nervous about so much as touching you in passing for your first 3 dates jumped into a pool to make out with someone he couldn’t have known for that long.

You sat on the couch in your apartment after a silent ride home. Spencer was supposed to meet you to spend some time together, he’d be landing any minute– but it was all you could do not to cry. It was before you were dating but you just felt– Insecure? Replaceable? You weren’t quite sure, but comparison stole your joy and left you with nothing but a sour mood and a boyfriend on his way to see you– one who was qualified to notice that you were upset nearly immediately upon seeing you. 

“Hey honey— I’m so glad I’m finally home. I’ve missed you so much.” He walked through the door, you’d told him so many times that he could come in without knocking– he even had his own key– and he moved straight to you. He leaned in to kiss you, but your lips were unrelenting, not soft like they usually were. You weren’t in the mood for romance right now and he wanted to figure out why. 

Not that you always had to be in the mood for physical touch, but usually when he got home from longer cases you were on him from the moment he walked through the door. He loved that— he missed that right now. 

“Is something wrong? Are you ok?”

“Yeah Spence, I’m fine.” You plastered on your best fake smile to no avail, only making Spencer more concerned in your efforts. 

“Did something happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing happened.” 

“I know you’re not telling me something. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.” Despite his words, his tone wasn’t accusatory at all. Only concerned. 

“I don’t need help— I just saw something that kind of… freaked me out is all.” You were really trying to downplay the effect that stupid magazine cover had on you.

“Did I leave one of my case files laying around? Oh honey I’m so sorry— I thought I picked them all up before I left.”He was wracked with guilt over something that didn’t even happen. 

“No Spencer it wasn’t that. It was a magazine? You were on the cover.” You thought he knew what you were talking about. I mean he’s been in a few science magazines for his academic ability, but nothing else like this. At least you certainly hoped not. 

“What magazine? From this month?” 

“No— it was a few months before we started dating. It was you and Lila Archer? I know it was before we started dating; and I know I have no right to be upset by it but it just— it just kind of took me by surprise, you know?”

“Oh. I forgot about that.” 

“You forgot about it? It said you were found fully clothed in her pool, and you just forgot?” You weren’t accusatory, just hurt—your voice was breaking by the end and you were still trying to look up at him. 

“It really wasn’t like that, I only knew her for a week— we were in LA because she was being stalked, I was supposed to be guarding her and she pulled me into the pool.” with just that one sentence he made it infinitely worse. He knew her for a week, and he wasn’t worried about her germs? What made her so different?

“You only knew her for a week?”

“Well–yes?” It was clear by the way he looked at you that he thought that would be a comforting notion. It was anything but. 

“On our first date you didn’t even want to touch me. You didn’t kiss me until we’d been dating for almost 2 weeks. I was perfectly fine with those things because I know you don’t really like touch but I need you to be honest with me about something. Do you just not like me as much? Because if you don’t that’s– well that’s ok. I mean I don’t want to be worried that you’re going to get a case in LA and find someone better.”

“Honey let me be perfectly clear– there is no one better. I love you more than anything or anyone on this Earth.” Spencer’s reassurance just wasn’t comforting you like it usually did. 

“Then–why? I mean do you just not think about me physically in that way?”

“I think the way I feel about you physically could easily be described as clingy and/or obsessed. You know this, sweetheart.” He held tightly onto your hands- rubbing the back of hand with his thumb

“Well now sure, but I honestly kind of thought you just weren’t attracted to me when we first started going out.”

“I was– and am for the record– extremely attracted to you. Some of my hesitance towards touching you was germ-based, but honestly I was just so ridiculously, extremely nervous around you that I was afraid to touch you and mess everything up.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, honey in case you hadn’t noticed you’re kind of it for me.” That feeling in the pit of your stomach finally subsided— giving way to the same feeling of love you always feel when Spencer wraps you in his arms. 

[teamatsumu]

At any given moment, i am thinking about Apex Alpha!Ushijima.

Not just alpha. But apex Alpha.

It’s pretty clear even from a distance that Ushijima is like no other alpha around him. Taller than any of his fellows, undoubtedly broader, he takes up space in a way the others fail to. His face is set in a perpetual blank look. Something in his expression screams ‘watch out’.

He also has an excruciating presence. When he enters a room, the scent of every other alpha pales in comparison. Even before he presented, Ushijima had an aura about him, so no one was surprised when he presented not only as an alpha, but an apex.

Shiratorizawa is proud to have an Apex in their ranks, considering how rare a breed they are. Ushijima is a star pupil, a star athlete. Shiratorizawa’s golden boy. The alphas revere him. They can’t even bring themselves to have a jealous streak when it comes to him. All that exists is envy. And the knowledge that they can never be him.

And the omegas. Oh lord. The omegas throw themselves at his feet. Often figuratively, and sometimes even literally. An apex alpha would be the ideal mate. The very pinnacle of the food chain. Any omega who he ended up with Ushijima would be the luckiest little thing on the planet. What a rare luck it would be, bagging an apex alpha as your mate?

Imagine how the school reels in surprise when Ushijima sets his sights on you.

You are, by no means, special. You are not a prime omega. Your scent, while undoubtedly omega, is light. It is not an omega scent that reels alphas in with how rich it is. Your stature isn’t particularly impressive for an omega either, though it isn’t bad. There is no way to describe it. You are just….. ordinary.

So you are confused as all hell when the king of alphas, an apex, presents you with a delicate bracelet one day. He had always been friendly with you, and you assumed it was just him being kind to the students of Shiratorizawa as part of his makeshift pack. But this, a thin, shiny chain with a single heart-shaped charm, made his intentions clear. This was a courting gift, there was no two ways about it.

You saw the apex alpha smile for the first time when you accepted his gift. And it solidified the fact that you accepted his advances.

Being courted by an apex alpha was also an interesting experience. Different to other alphas. His gifts were extremely personalised, stuff that he knew you needed or would be very useful. He was a man of few words, but his actions were glaring, they seemed to scream his intentions at you loud and clear. His aura and scent were so strong that there wasn’t even any need for him to scent you or your things. Five minutes in his presence meant that everyone would know where you had been for hours afterward. Despite being so physically huge, his touch was gentle and comforting. And slowly, you grew so attached to him that it hurt to be without.

Overtime, you realised that a lot of what ushijima did was not his status but rather just him. He was naturally so firm yet gentle. His gifts being so practical was just how his mind worked. Being a good person and a good leader was not because he was an apex, but because he was….. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It was so easy to love him. And to choose him as your mate. He was truly the ideal. And every second of every day you were grateful that he had chosen you, for whatever reason, to be his omega.

Just the thought of Apex Alpha!Ushijima is so near and dear to me. If anyone can be an Apex, it’s him.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Jisung

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

You had always admired Han's loving spirit and his ability to find inspiration in the smallest things. He brought light into your life in ways you never thought possible. And he helped you see the world in a way most didn't. You loved that you had that in common with Han- an appreciation for things that breathed life into your creative works.

You had never been very good at drawing. Or writing. Or anything having to do with the fine arts. Rather your creativity came more in a problem solving way. But in order to connect with Jisung, you decided to take up sketching to connect with Han a little more, because you loved him.

But that just created a deep-rooted insecurity about your creative abilities. Surrounded by so many talented people - as you were around the kids -you often felt your own contributions paled in comparison, and it was a fear you kept to yourself.

One evening, Han was over at your place, working on some new lyrics while you attempted to write poetry. He was sprawled on the couch, notebook in hand, humming a melody under his breath. You sat at your desk, scribbling down words and then erasing them feeling increasingly frustrated with your lack of progress.

You had long given up drawing, and you thought it might be easier to write a poem, since it was words that described your feelings. You could easily write a poem about something you knew well right? It couldn't be that hard.

You scratched your head as you tried to think of rhymes.

"How's it going over there?" Han asked, glancing up from his notebook.

"Not great," you mumbled, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Han chuckled, not noticing your tone. "I figured."

His casual comment felt like a sting, a reminder of your perceived inadequacies. You forced a smile and nodded, but inside, you felt your confidence crumbling.

He got up and walked over to you, picking up your paper in his hands. He chuckled. "Poetry now huh?"

You felt your cheeks burn and tried to take it from him. "No-"

"No jagiya I want to read it." He said holding it above your head and reading it. "You make me laugh when I am sad, Your jokes are the best I've ever had. When you smile, my heart feels light, You make everything so bright." Han giggled again. "It's like one of those poems we had to write in elementary school."

That made your cheeks burn even more. "Jisung give it back-"

"Your hugs are warm, your eyes so kind, With you, I leave my worries behind. You're my sunshine, my best friend, With you, I hope the good times never end." He gives you a cute pouty face in a teasing manner. "Awww Y/N... it's such a cute little poem. It's like a little nursery rhyme."

"Jisung stop!" You called out again, feeling your eyes burn as you put your fists to your eyes, the embarrassment you had taking over.

"I know my poem's not that great, But loving you is my favorite fate. Thank you Jisung..." His smile fell and he swallowed. "Thank you...Jisung for...for being you. My love for you is always true." He looked up and seemed to realize what he was teasing you about and his lip trembled. "Y/N-"

"I want to be alone." You mumbled through your tears. Jisung wanted to reach out, but he knew he had hurt your feelings, but knowing you he also knew you needed space.

The next few days were a blur of self-doubt and creative blocks. You avoided drawing and writing, and found excuses to stay busy with other tasks. Han noticed your change in behavior and even if you guys had talked a couple hours after the incident, he still didn't think his apology was enough.

One afternoon, while you were both working on a puzzle together, Han brought up the subject again. "Hey, you know I'm really really sorry right?"

You nodded. "I know. I'm not mad anymore, Jisung."

Han frowned. "But you haven't been writing at all. Or drawing...I feel like it's my fault. No...I know it's my fault. I'm sorry I made fun of your poem- I loved it. I really did. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever written me..."

You felt a pang in your chest, wishing you could believe him. "Thanks, but sometimes it feels like I'm just not good enough."

Han looked taken aback. "What do you mean? You're incredibly talented."

You sighed, finally letting out a bit of your frustration. "It's just… I see how talented everyone else is, including you, and I can't help but feel like my work doesn't measure up."

Han's expression softened, and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "You're amazing in your own right, and comparing yourself to others isn't fair to you. I wouldn't ever want you to compare yourself to me. That's like comparing a doctor to an actor. Both are genius in their own right, but do you expect an actor to be able to perform surgery like a doctor? Or the doctor to recite the entire second act of Hamlet? You have your talents that I could never even begin to measure up to, Y/N. Its the same with everyone who walks this planet..."

His words were kind, but they didn't fully reach the core of your insecurity. You forced a smile and nodded, hoping the conversation would end there.

A week later, Han invited himself over to your house, hoping to put an end to both of your guy's misery. You hated feeling like you had to walk on eggshells around him, and he hated thinking he was making you uncomfortable.

You guys ate dinner and started watching a drama. After the fourth episode Han pressed the pause button.

"Baby...can I show you something?"

You nodded, slightly confused as to why Jisung would pause your binge.

He grabbed his laptop from his bag and came back towards you, placing his headphones on your head.

He unlocked his laptop, clicked a few buttons and a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyes widened.

"Did you guys wrtie a new song?" You asked excitedly, but Jisung shushed you gently and motioned for you to listen.

You closed your eyes and let yourself go, embracing the music fully.

You felt your heart almost stop when you heard the words of your poem masterfully intricated into the song.

"Why did you show me that?" you asked, your voice trembling. You didn't dare open your eyes, or you were sure the tears you had would fall.

Han sounded puzzled. "Because it's great and I wanted to share it."

"But it's not great," you snapped, tears falling from your eyes as you opened them. "People will know you just used those words. You're so much more well versed and-"

Han stopped in his tracks, realization dawning on him. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just wanted to show them how talented you are.” You shook your head.

"Ouch, Y/N..." Jisung chuckled, his voice breaking a little. You looked at Han, whose chubby cheeks were encompassed by his pout. His boba eyes sad.

"No- No baby I meant... I feel like my words are stupid. Not your voice. Your song was absolutely beautiful... I just feel like I made you waste such a good backtrack."

You wiped away a tear, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "It's not your fault. It's just… I can't help but feel like I'll never be as good as everyone else. And I feel like you did that to make me feel better..."

Han pulled you into a tight hug, his voice gentle and soothing. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You're incredibly talented and creative, and your art is a reflection of who you are. It's unique and beautiful, just like you."

You clung to him, the sincerity in his words slowly breaking through your walls. "I just want to feel like I'm enough," you whispered.

Han held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "You are more than enough. Your worth isn't defined by how perfect your art or writing is or how you compare to others. It's about the passion and love you put into what you do."

His words resonated with you, and you felt a sense of comfort and reassurance. Han's unwavering support and belief in you made a difference, and you realized that your insecurities didn't define you.

"And I didn't make that song to make you feel better...I made it so you could see just how much inspiration I find from you. Y/N I love you more than anything. So, I was over the moon when I wrote this. And even more elated when I got to use the words the love of my life wrote. That's only the demo..." He grins sheepishly. "I was thinking...it would sound cool if you could leave that poem as a voicemail. I could make it the outro of the song..."

You looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it baby. I mean... I know Stay speculates I'm in a relationship...it's been a year now so I feel like this would be a fun way of confirming that. And I want the world to hear the beautiful voice of my baby." He coos, squishing your cheeks.

You giggle and nod, as Han peppers kisses all over your face.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch, Han handed you a sketchbook he had bought for you. "I got this for you. I want you to fill it with whatever makes you happy. No pressure, just pure creativity. It doesn't even have to be art. Maybe you could write me more poems..."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Ji. For everything."

Han wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm always here for you. And for inspiration. Because you're my inspiration." He says nuzzling his nose against yours.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and contentment.

His inspiration. You thought.

What an amazing thing to be...

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel

[thedensworld]

I need your fluff scoups please🥺

Time for the Rose | C.Sc

Pairing: Scoups x Readera

Genre: Fluff, established relationship

Summary: you found out how he always got you flower at the perfect time.

Not only are you dating at the perfect time, but you are also dating the perfect man. Seungcheol loves giving you flowers ever since he discovered your secret fondness for them. It was during his first visit to your place when he noticed a bouquet of fresh flowers laying on your kitchen countertop. His mind immediately raced, wondering, "Who's the guy brave enough to give you flowers?" Especially when he thought he had made it clear to everyone that you were his.

"I got those myself after work," you explained, noticing the puzzled look on his face.

Seungcheol tilted his head, still uncertain. "You got them?" he asked, seeking confirmation. You nodded enthusiastically, taking the bouquet and showing it to him.

"Isn't it pretty? I usually get roses, but they were sold out. So daisies are my second choice," you said with a bright smile.

Seungcheol smiled back, charmed by your excitement over the flowers. To him, they paled in comparison to your beauty. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful thing in the room.

From that moment on, Seungcheol made it a point to bring you flowers regularly. It became his way of showing his affection and making sure that the sight of fresh blooms never left your kitchen countertop.

He loves seeing the flowers he gives you sit in vases around your house. Sometimes they are red, pink, or white. You always say that the kind doesn't matter, but he knows you love it every time he hands you red roses. The smile on your face that reaches your eyes, the sound of your laughter every time he shows up from afar with a bouquet in his hand—these are the moments he cherishes the most.

Oh, how he loves those moments. He makes sure to keep them forever, capturing each one in his heart like a precious photograph.

Besides that, Seungcheol loves that you get flowers for other people, a fact that makes him fall even harder for you. It was lunchtime when he picked you up from work to have lunch together. On the way back to the office, you asked him to stop at the flower shop.

"Didn't I get you some flowers just a few days ago, love?" he asked, worried that maybe he was forgetting something.

You nodded with a smile. "These are for Minji. It's her birthday today."

Seungcheol watched as your smile grew wider the moment you entered the flower shop. Your eyes closed with every breath you took, savoring the scent of the flowers. He couldn't help but look at your face closely, feeling grateful to be the man standing beside you with your arm linked to his.

Seeing you this happy over something so simple made his heart swell with love. He couldn't imagine anyone else being in his place, sharing these precious moments with you.

"What do you want to get for her?" he asked, his mouth drawing closer to your ear, a habit he had whenever he spoke to you.

You turned your head to him, your eyes sparkling. "I was thinking of getting yellow roses, but everything looks so pretty here," you said, your mouth pouting in a way that Seungcheol found utterly adorable.

"Why do you like flowers so much?" Seungcheol finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"They're pretty," you said simply. "And they have meaning. You know I love things that are subtle and symbolic."

Seungcheol nodded. You always had a penchant for the symbolic, for gestures that spoke volumes without needing words. It was one of the many things he adored about you.

"Like yellow roses for friendship, sunflowers to show adoration, and irises to show faith and hope," you continued.

Seungcheol smiled, his thoughts drifting to your favorite flower. "How about red and white roses?" he asked.

You pondered for a moment before selecting yellow lilies and white daisies for Minji and asking the staff to arrange them into a bouquet. You shifted your attention back to him and smiled. "Love and purity."

Seungcheol shook his head in disbelief, guiding you out of the store. Though he prided himself on his masculinity, he found himself considering learning about flowers just for you. Every time he saw the joy they brought to your face, he knew it was worth it.

*

You finally visited Seungcheol's office after a long time. He had sent you a text earlier saying he would be busy today and couldn’t pick you up for lunch. However, you asked if it would be okay to visit him instead, and his response was ecstatic. Seungcheol just loved having you around.

Seungcheol waited for you in front of the elevator, a wide smile spreading across his face as soon as he saw your figure revealed by the opening doors. He immediately took everything from your hands, the lunch you brought for the two of you, as he walked you to his office. His staff mostly knew who you were by now. Seungcheol had made it clear that he was dating someone amazing and had proudly introduced you to everyone. They seemed to enjoy the sight of their boss looking completely smitten every time you visited.

Once inside his office, Seungcheol set the lunch down on his desk and turned to you, his eyes filled with affection. "I’m so glad you came," he said, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You two were conversing comfortably as you savored the lunch you brought. You asked him about the job that had kept him busy, and he explained it to you in detail. While talking, your eyes wandered around his office and landed on something that piqued your interest. A single red rose sat in a vase on his desk.

"You have a rose in your office?" you asked excitedly.

He nodded with a smile. "That's your flower."

You didn't understand, so you asked, "What do you mean, my flower?"

"I always take one of your flowers and take care of it just like you do, so I know when it's time to get you another one," he explained.

Your body felt like it had stopped working. That's how he knew how long they would last.

Everything made sense now. He always seemed to know the perfect time to get you a bouquet of flowers—always exactly a day before your current ones began to wilt. Typically, your flowers would last 10 days to two weeks, but sometimes they withered sooner. Yet, Seungcheol always had another bouquet ready, as if he had been with you, watching over the flowers together.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. "You really pay attention to everything, don't you?"

He shrugged with a modest grin. "I just want to make sure you always have something beautiful to look at."

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you, Seungcheol. For everything."

He leaned in, "anything for you," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

You looked him in the eyes, your gaze full of adoration, and you couldn't help but pull him closer and kiss him right away. He seemed flustered and mumbled, "We're at my office, love," but you didn't care. You loved him so much and felt an urgent need to let him know.

"I love you, babe," you whispered, smiling as your palm rested on his cheek, caressing it slowly.

Seungcheol closed his eyes as his smile grew wider. "Fuck it, I love you too, love," he said before grabbing the nape of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss.

A kiss at lunchtime in his office.

Seungcheol was glad he had installed blinds in his office two weeks ago.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ divorced dilf!jungkook⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

somewhat of a situationship to lovers (they're in a very grey area)

babysitter au

fluff + slight angst

//

jungkook usually comes home at 6PM.

however, around 4PM, he messaged saying that his coworkers wanted to get a drink after work so he’d be home a little late… so, at 8:30PM, the condo door clicks open.

jungkook steps inside, shrugging off his jacket with one hand while the other loosens his tie. the scent of something faintly sweet lingers in the air, blending with the quiet giggles of his daughter, aria. 

his eyes lift, trailing past the sleek lines of the kitchen, settling on the living room. he can see it so clearly… and it’s beautiful. 

there you are, cross-legged on the floor, his little girl perched in your lap. aria is clutching her stuffed bunny, her laughter bubbles over as you bounce her. jungkook’s heart always seems to stop whenever he sees your face is always lit with the kind of warmth when you look at aria. for a moment, it makes him stop his tracks.

“daddy!” aria squeals, her arms shooting out toward jungkook. 

although, she makes no move to leave your hold. 

“hi baby,” jungkook murmurs, his voice low, calm, almost weary. he takes his shoes off, leaving them neatly in the mud area. as he pads over, you can immediately feel that his presence is heavier than usual. maybe it’s his tipsiness or the weight of a long day at work… but it presses into his every step.

you glance up at him, your smile soft but knowing. 

“she’s been asking for you since we finished dinner.”

“has she?” his lips twitch at the corners, but it’s fleeting. jungkook crouches, holding out his arms. “come here, aria.”

to his surprise, she shakes her head and burrows deeper into your arms. you laugh, the sound light but hesitant. “she asked me to sleep over.”

jungkook feels his stomach flip. 

then, he exhales, somewhere between amused and exasperated, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “i’ll give her a bath,” he says after a beat, standing. “you can head out if you want. it’s late.”

but you don’t move. 

you hold aria a little longer, gently shifting her into his waiting arms, and for a brief moment, your hands brush. 

it’s nothing. 

it’s everything.

later, when the home is quiet and jungkook successfully put aria to sleep, he heads downstairs. his tie is gone, sleeves rolled up, and he’s tugging the tension from his shoulders. 

today was too intense for his liking. working in corporate was never the ideal job for him, but he’s too high up to whine about it. his job as a product manager at hybe music pays well and gives him the means to hire a long-term babysitter like you. 

ever since his divorce and his ex-wife moved away for her career, jungkook has had to shoulder more than he ever anticipated. the late-night meetings, the endless emails, the pressure to always be on top—it all paled in comparison to the weight of raising aria alone.

but he would never call it a burden. 

aria is the one bright spot in his life—the one thing that keeps him going when the rest of the world feels unbearably heavy. but tonight, is one of those nights where the exhaustion leads him to wonder how long he can keep this balancing act up.

conversely, you’ve been his anchor in ways he didn’t expect. reliable, patient, kind—a constant presence in his daughter’s life and, by extension, his. 

you don’t overstep, don’t pry, but you’re there. and lately, that simple fact has started to mean more than it should.

ever since that night, things have been… complicated.

he knows he should have drawn the line. made things clear. but it’s hard to focus on boundaries when your world feels like it’s fraying at the edges.

then, jungkook pauses at the kitchen entrance. 

you’re there, standing at the sink, your hair tied back, and sleeves pushed up as you rinse dishes. a pan sits on the stove, something warm simmering. the faint clink of utensils fills the air.

“you shouldn’t have cooked,” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.

you don’t turn around. 

“i know.”

a pause.

“don’t do this again,” he murmurs, softer this time, almost like he doesn’t want to say it.

“okay.”

but you don’t stop.

instead, you plate the food, moving with deliberate care. when you’re done, you set it on the island and gesture for him to sit.

“eat.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. 

he sits and eats. he listens to you. 

with the scrape of the stool loud in the silence, you settle across from him.

when jungkook finishes his food, you shift to leave. 

you’re slipping on your shoes when he catches you, his hand brushing your arm.

“wait.”

you pause, turning slightly, your breath catching as he steps in front of you. his hands lift, hesitating for just a second before settling on either side of your waist.

you don’t speak. 

instead, your hands rise, tentative but certain, curling around his neck. you pull him down, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s as much a question as it is an answer.

your name falls from his lips in a low murmur, and when you turn to face him, his expression is unreadable���caught somewhere between hesitation and something deeper, something raw.

his eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a moment, before snapping back to yours. “don’t go. don’t go yet.” he says, so quiet you almost miss it.

your breath hitches, but before you can respond, he’s moving. one step closer, then another, until you’re backed against the door. his hands rise, bracketing your waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like he’s holding onto the last thread of his sanity.

and then he kisses you.

his lips crash against yours with a desperation that makes you feel like you’re being swept off your feet. his body presses into yours as if he’s trying to erase the distance that’s lingered between you since that night.

the taste of him is familiar—warm, intoxicating, bewitching your body… it’s absolutely breath taking. 

his lips move against yours with a need that feels almost frantic. like, he was going to lose his mind if he hadn’t kissed you a second sooner. the way he angles his head, the way his hands tighten their hold on you—it’s a tell. 

he’s taking your doubts. 

he’s making it known.

he’s remembering it too.

the heat of your skin against his, the way your body had arched into him and the quiet gasps that escaped your puffy lips… it all comes rushing back, soft and vivid. every time he kisses you now, it’s like he’s clinging to the memory of that night. no matter how much he tells himself to forget, to move on, this—you—makes it so fucking difficult. 

impossible, even.

like you’re air and he’ll suffocate without you around.

you kiss him back, your hands sliding up his chest. your fingers curl into the soft fabric of his shirt before looping around his neck. you pull him closer, deepening the kiss, and smile as he makes these small sounds—low and almost broken.

it ignites something deep in your chest, plunging into your very soul. 

jungkook shifts, pressing you harder against the door, his lips trailing to your jaw, then your neck. then, he breaks the kiss to speak. 

“every time,” he mutters. “every time i kiss you, it gets harder to…” he trails off, his forehead falling to rest against yours.

“to what?” you ask, panting.

his eyes meet yours, dark and heavy with emotion. he doesn’t answer you. instead, you just nod and as his eyes tear up. before you know it, your fingers thread into his hair, tugging gently, and his eyes flutter shut. you lean up, brushing your lips against his once, twice, before murmuring;

“it’s okay. i’m here. i’ll stay.”

that’s all he needs.

his lips crash back onto yours, and this time, it’s slower, deeper. it’s like he doesn’t want to move on from this moment. his hands slide up your sides, pulling you impossibly closer, and the kiss feels like a promise—a silent confession of everything he can’t bring himself to say aloud.

he’s losing himself in you, and for now, he doesn’t care.

when you pull back, he shifts.

jungkook presses his face into the crook of your neck, his hands tightening on your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

“bad day?”

he doesn’t lift his head. 

he doesn’t move. 

after a moment, he just exhales and murmurs;

“better now.”

and then he’s lifting you.

jungkook settles you onto the cool surface of the kitchen counter. his arms cage you in like he needs you close and closer. your fingers stay in his hair, stroking gently as he buries himself in the comfort of you. the awkwardness, the tension, and the uncertainty between you two begins to dissolve slowly but surely in the silence. 

for now, it’s enough.

tomorrow, it might not be. 

but he looks forward to it—an ending with you.

[ataraxiaspainting]

O Fatale Imperium, O Fortuna!

Part I of III - Power and Control.

Yan Sunday x F Reader.

Synopsis: At the heart of what used to be a town, your fellow villagers wait on their knees to be blessed by a kind stranger.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-consensual body transformation, religious themes because it’s Sunday, unhealthy relationships, major spoilers for the main Penacony quest in Honkai Star Rail, manipulation, descriptions of poverty, descriptions of physical illnesses, minor character deaths, and drugging.

Word Count: 3k.

shoutout to my friend @harmonysanreads for proofreading some of it! i really appreciate her and all the stuff she writes so please check her out! <3

*~*~*~*

"Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ets. Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem. Exaudi orationem meam, ad te omnis caro veniet. Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ets."

- Introitus, Mozart's Requiem.

*~*~*~*

Jenovath, the planet of three truths – the closest neighbor of Penacony, the planet of dreams. Two moons rotate in a clockwise motion while the other two move in the opposite direction. The youngests, Jenova Nativitas and Jenova Vita, have almost always been a fated pair – one gifts humanity with vegetation while the other gifts them with life in other forms. Both have always been honored within your village – the most famous example being a large statue of the goddess Jenova at its center holding them in her gentle hands – unlike the other two planetoids. 

Jenova Mortem and Jenova Copulatio; both unwelcome gifts from Jenova’s son a millennium ago.

In your childhood, you remember the sun’s warmth atop your skin as you explored the forests around your village. Now Jenova Morteum and Jenova Copulatio have combined into one, and now this planet’s source of light is gone.

The plants died first. The herbivores next. The carnivores around the same time. There are no more blessings from Jenova Nativitas or Jenova Vita, only curses in the form of disease and disorder. Black coils inhabit the bodies of the older generations, the same ones who were cursed by their goddess’ envious only child.

The younger generation is left fighting for the scraps of a world forgotten by the rest of the universe. You may be older than some of them – you have no clue how people still have kids in times like this – but in reality, you’re just as lost. You’re just as clueless when it comes to begging whatever few travelers are left for necessities, and you’ll probably die soon just like everyone else who has come before you.

“Such unnecessary pain.” The stranger murmurs, kneeling to you. You don’t look anywhere aside from the makeshift knife in your hands. Your palms bleed since the handle is non-existent. After all, it is just a piece of glass you managed to take off of another abandoned lodge cabin meant for visitors.

The robe on his head does little to hide his real appearance. Golden eyes, a face as pale as sand, and what looks to be two halovian wings blending in with his gray hair.

Your body isn’t as damaged as the other people nestled in this part of the town – while you only have small black markings on the back of your neck going down to your midriff, most of the others have large excesses of skin on their faces, hands, and feet. Their ability to talk, walk, and touch things have been severely limited due to Hirona’s inflicted evil – meanwhile, you're only limited in the ways you can cover your markings because most of the clothing you once had has been sold.

*~*~*~*

Instead of sleeping on stone tiles – or a cardboard box if you had gotten lucky with your findings in garbage disposals – you lay awake, nestled between freshly ironed sheets and a mattress you feel is softer than a cloud. On the bedside table, there are a few gifts from the staff. Nothing too fancy with the crisis at hand, but the kind gesture is more than enough in comparison to what you have been given on the streets recently. A basket of cut bruised fruits, two red roses in a glass vase partially shattered on its top, and a little card with the manager’s signature on the back thanking the stranger – Sunday he told you was his name – for his patronage and blessings. Just an hour prior, he had presented you to the receptionist. She started to cry when she looked upon your skin, and soon some of the other staff members came to see what the commotion was about.

In just moments you two were presented with a freshly clean room – so clean you had nearly slipped on the wet flooring. You would have fallen if Sunday were not right behind you. It would be a terrible thing to have your curse undone and then proceed to break a few bones.

Sunday calls to you from the other side of the room, standing beside his own bed to read the note in his hands. “Miss [First], would you like some of my favors? I noticed yours are of… lesser quality.”

He’s observant from what you have seen thus far. After your healing, he had walked with you to the nearest clothing store – it was quite far, as evidenced by his offering for you to stay closer to the area he found you at while he went to secure the goods. He somehow knew your size and noticed how even your socks didn’t fit you as nicely anymore.

“I don’t mean any offense by the way; I’m also just not quite hungry at the moment.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, freeing yourself from the comforter. “I don’t mean to take more than I can give back. You have done so much already for me, for the people on Jenovath.”

“I argue that my efforts are just beginning.”

You turn your head a bit to the side, your grip on the warm pallet fading as you urge yourself to get up. “Are they?”

Sunday nods, putting a hand on his chest as he closes his eyes. The note falls with his other hand to his side. “After all, I have only cured about twelve people total thus far – including you. There is still much work to be done, so you can take as much as I throw.”

Your gluttony gets the better of you – you don’t ask for his permission again.

*~*~*~*

“How did it feel, kid?”

The man in front of you has given you no warning before he speaks. Instead of ever using his voice, the bottles and shakers and cups do the talking for him most of the time – and the strength in his body that almost anyone can notice right away. You would have to be a fool to start a riot in Cooper Caprum’s bar. The Great Bubble is no place for transgressors. 

“What are you talking about, Mister Caprum?”

“That boy – ‘Sunday’ I heard his name was.”

The two glass cups mix liquids without a mere ounce of Cooper’s strength. Everything he holds in his hands belongs to Jenovath’s much more successful neighbor; or more specifically one of its most popular companies. SoulGlad Soothing Soda. SoulGlad Redsunset Sauce. When the concoction turns a deep violet, you’re tempted to revoke the offer you made to him.

“Ah, so you know Mister Caprum already?” You nearly jump at the sound of Sunday’s voice coming from right behind you. “That’s lovely to know.”

He points to the stool beside you; it’s much less stable than the one you sat on. 

“May I join you two?”

“Of course,” You reply, switching your seating before he can fall. “Take mine-”

Since you took his place, it’s only natural you’re the one to hit the floor. The new grip on your wrist is tight, almost like an embrace. Once you are back to being upright, Sunday goes to brush the dust off of his sitting. 

You’re certain there is nothing, but Sunday somehow still sees dirt – and you decide to make nothing of it.

You sigh, pulling out your wallet in case this bet doesn’t work out in your favor. “One thousand, right?”

Cooper nods his head like an eager child whose parents agreed to get him a puppy in exchange for good grades. “Mmhmm… and one secret.”

“A secret?” Sunday inquires, raising one of his wings in confusion.

“Alright,” You shake your head, placing the agreed-upon amount of credits on the table. 

Cooper copies your gesture. “Which cup would you like to start with, Missy?”

“Small. Then… I’ll hopefully make my way up.”

…

You had lost the bet early on; you weren’t able to even finish the original small glass you had selected.

Cooper managed to drink the whole thing on his own – all with a chuckle and wink every few gulps he took. But he has been a bartender for twenty-four years, so you hardly find it surprising. He must have had countless odd combinations thrown back at him the moment the client didn’t approve of it, either made by him when experimenting or being told to do so by the client. From the few pictures left on the hotel’s walls, you assume that this is where he has gotten his strength; kicking people in the nose the instant they don’t want to pay their tab. 

He didn’t have as much body hair and not a single noticeable muscle, no tattoos but plenty of uncovered scars. 

“Two thousand now – do you want to keep going?”

“I think she’s had enough,” Sunday interrupts, putting his arm around your back to hoist you up with him. “We’ll go back to the room now, thank you.”

Cooper looks down expectantly at the space in front of you, only the original thousand credits placed upon it. 

When Sunday notices, he seems to resist grumbling and takes out the same credit amount from his pocket. “Here.”

“Thanks for your patronage, Mister Sunday.” Cooper chuckles, the cigarette in his mouth starting to lose its flame. “Come back again soon, kid.”

*~*~*~*

From his gaze alone, you can tell Sunday disapproves of your lost wager – it’s fair, you think, for him to feel only condemnation.

However, Sunday now disapproves of most activities you try to do now. He’s behind you whenever you enter the bar, reminding you of how much of a lightweight you are and how easy it is for Cooper to persuade you into things you normally would not do sober. He dislikes the preferential treatment he is given over you by most of the staff, demanding for you to be treated with equal respect.

“Miss [First] Alloy is the first person I have healed from Hiroth… please don’t treat her like she is nothing but lowly trash.”

Sunday does not sleep much anymore either, preferring to go into nearby houses to bless the cursed. 

You can hardly remember what he looks like without such heavy eyebags, almost as dark as the smoke that comes out from Cooper’s cigars. 

One day, he came back with a strange cut on his cheek – a cut too shallow for a knife but too deep for a fingernail. 

Your savior tells you not to worry about him – to focus on taking care of yourself because ‘there is no other care within this universe similar to it’ – but you can’t help frowning as you wipe the golden blood away.

*~*~*~*

“I can’t,” Sunday repeats, his arms still crossed as he looks at the three faces before him. A boy no older than six, a girl no older than five, and a woman who has her daughter’s blue eyes. “I have other matters to attend to. I apologize, Mrs. Caprum. Your husband gave you false hope.” When Mrs. Caprum tries to beg again, he unravels one of his arms, putting a hand up and shaking his head.

As Sunday has said over and over for the past hour, Cooper’s wife and children are beyond saving.

The boy has purple skin – clotted and puffy like balloons – covering his vision.

The girl is afflicted with a similar swollen spot on the top of her lips, preventing her from speaking.

Their mother’s entire skin was a sickening plum color with only a few areas smaller than a freckle remaining untouched. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words that come out of you are true, heartfelt, just like how Sunday has talked to you before. You look down before he does, not wanting to take in such a scene any longer. 

Sunday has told you he is not all-powerful. He has told many people that countless times, not that they listened to him. 

“Bullshit,” Cooper snaps – in an instant, Sunday’s scarf is grabbed and he is raised just an inch or two above the ground. “You can heal them – stop lying to me, you bragged all fucking night a week ago about your powers.”

“I do not brag, Mister Caprum.”

After the two stare – one with disappointment, the other with hate – you catch Sunday before he falls.

*~*~*~*

The next time you see Cooper, it is him sitting down at the bar. The Great Bubble has had a closed sign next to its front door for about twelve days now. 

Cooper took the time off, not paid of course, after Sunday’s denials. Sunday kept working to heal other people… but not the Caprum family.

“They’re dead.” The bartender murmurs when you’re just close enough. “My Sarah, my little Julia and Victor. They’re dead because of him.”

You don’t know how to reply; instead sitting on a wobbly stool that looks just as damaged as Cooper’s does.

You hold onto the table’s edge to keep a steady balance while Cooper rests his elbows atop it. Your mind – so silent now that Sunday has gone out on business yet again – wanders to find another purpose.

Perhaps you can help someone instead of relying on luck to do it for you.

“It’s probably not going to help… But,” You begin, looking at the stone’s large cracks instead of how skinny Cooper has gotten. “I can tell you the secret I promised you. Both of them.”

You try to follow a path similar to your savior’s – a path full of rejoicement and triumph. 

“I-”

I was a part of House Sterling. 

The rag covering your mouth prevents you from speaking.

I was the eldest daughter but was unwanted by my father. 

The sweet smell prevents you from screaming but also prevents you from speaking your truth.

As soon as my mother died, I was on the streets.

Your eyelids droop like you haven’t slept in a long time – so similar to when you were fending for yourself, for your sanity, for your hope-

*~*~*~*

“Ah,” Sunday looks down at you from the chair beside your bed – he closes the familiar book you see him carry everywhere. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak with all your might, but something is stuck within your throat – the passage of airflow and saliva is kept open, but words cannot seem to come out.

You taste something floral and sweet sticking to the roof of your mouth. Earthy not like a mushroom… but like tea that has been steeping for much too long. It takes a few more moments for you to learn how to breathe strictly through your nose as something tickles you every time you inhale the air.

“Mister Caprum has been put under arrest.” He leans in, his hair nearly covering the entirety of his eyes and forehead from sight. The smell of cleanliness does little to deflect your senses from the inside of your mouth. 

There is a hint of blood coming out from the lump in your throat. 

Or is it from the supposed pacifist?

“You need not fear anymore.”

Maybe it is from both of you.

“I shall take care of all your burdens and woes.”

Maybe it is from neither of you.

“You don’t need to lift a finger anymore, Miss Alloy.”

You try not to force yourself to even whisper to him – even though you have so much to say, so many questions to ask him. You remain silent as Sunday takes the wrist closest to him, holding the palm against the right side of his chest. 

“I was horrified.” He admits, forcing a gentle smile as he now stares down at himself. “I had thought I was… going to lose you. I thought maybe Mister Caprum wouldn’t treat you differently because of what had happened. I thought wrong, it seems.”

That explains only half of the story. Why can’t you talk? Why does your larynx feel like it is being squeezed until it eventually pops? Why is there a minty aroma being mixed in with the scent of blood?

It doesn’t hit you yet – Sunday attempts to tell you the answers you wish for as nice as he can.

“I regret letting you know someone so… advantageous.” You feel his heartbeat. It’s slightly above yours, moving up and down in a way akin to a rainstorm’s rhythm. Bum bum. Bum bum. Bum bum. “He takes your money, uses your trust, attempts to take your secrets, and he almost took you.” 

The pulse quickens faster than you can process his words. Dun dun dun. Dun dun dun. Dun dun dun.

“I’ll miss your voice. I’ll miss a lot of things from you,” Your vision somehow gets more blurry, more hazy. Ah. It’s simply your tears – one of the few things Sunday doesn’t plan to take from you. After all, everyone cries. “But it’s for the best. I’m sorry it had to go this way.” 

He is genuinely sorry. So very sorry. You know he is. However, it doesn’t make the thorns digging into your throat any less painful.

“Please don’t hate me.” He sounds near tears himself. Maybe that is why he doesn’t see your sadness as something to alleviate – he cannot even stop himself, much less stop you or anyone else. “Hyssop flowers are beautiful.”

*~*~*~*

“Kyrie eleison.

Christe eleison.

Kyrie eleison.”

- Kyrie, Mozart's Requiem.

*~*~*~*

a/n - ahhhhhhh chapter one’s done! if anyone wants to leave any suggestions or theories, i would be happy to hear them!! aya out… only for now of course!

[inotakumagf]

the beast at the heart of the world

✶ gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count ✺ 1.7K

summary ✺ you’ve had a shadow following you since you were a kid. one day, it tries to hurt you.

warning ✺ kind of creepy descriptions of a cursed spirit, but it’s not super gory or anything like that. also i never usually enjoy instant love, but reader and gojo are very touch-starved, so it kinda goes from 0 to 100 real fast oops. reblogs & comments r very appreciated <3

You started seeing the creature when you were seven years old.

He’s never spoken to you, but he’s always watching. At least, you think it’s a he. The creature has pale, rubbery skin with pointed ears and a towering figure. The way he stares at you reminds you of how your father does, and the comparison causes panic to burst against your seams. 

The first time you notice him, you’re playing with your dolls in your bedroom. You focus on the story you’re telling with your Barbies, trying to ignore the way your parents scream at each other in the kitchen. You have this suffocating desire to make them stop, even if that means hurting them. You don’t want to—you know you’d never—but you can’t shake the overwhelming anger brewing inside of you. 

When you finally look up, your heart drops at the sight of sharp, glistening teeth peeking out from your closet. The only thing visible in the shadows is the curling grin of a beast, and it feels like a twisted promise to rip you apart. You notice its red, beady eyes next, and you whimper when you realize it’s looking right at you. The creature’s grin widens.

You scream for your mother to save you, hands clamping over your eyes as you sob. At least your parents’ argument stops as your mother comes to see what’s wrong. When you point out the creature to your mother and explain the situation, she throws open your closet door, to your absolute horror. But her smile doesn’t change as she steps to the side and motions to the closet, the monster still staring at you with its full attention. You cry when you realize she can’t see the creature. Its gaze burns into you as she reassures you that there’s nothing to worry about, even as the creature drools over her shoulder. 

You learn two things that day: one, no one else besides you can see this creature. And two, it follows you. Everywhere. 

You don’t know why, but he never, ever takes his eyes off of you. And he never stops smiling. You have to ignore him every second of your life after that, pretending that he doesn’t tower over you and terrify you beyond comprehension. No matter how many years it’s been since you first saw him, your heart and body freeze every time you look over your shoulder and see the imposing figure of your monster. Truly, it could be worse. He’s never touched you before, he’s never put you or anyone else in physical danger. He just stands a short distance behind you, and he stares. But the anticipation is so overwhelming that it may kill you before he does. You often cry yourself to sleep, hoping that he will just go away. Why can’t he go away?

Sometimes, he stands so close that you think he’ll swallow you whole. You know he thinks of it, because his large mouth is wide open as he peers down at you, letting his saliva drip over you. After all these years, it’s still nearly impossible not to sob in fear or flinch away from him, especially when you’re in public. It's so debilitating, and it turns something as simple as ordering coffee at a cafe into a dreadful process. 

Like now, you try to order your drink, stumbling over your words as you do your best to ignore the creature standing beside you. Your voice cracks and you freeze as the monster drops its head onto your shoulder. You can feel its clammy skin against yours, and there’s a slight scratch as brittle hair brushes against you. A sob bubbles in your chest as the creature licks a trail up your face with its long tongue.

“I–can I…?” You can’t finish your sentence, too busy trying not to scrunch your eyes closed at the feeling of his slimy, purple tongue dragging all over you. He’s never touched you before, and you don’t know why he has now. Maybe his insatiable hunger has gotten the best of him. 

You make a strange noise in the back of your throat. The barista in front of you rolls his eyes at the state of you. You can’t really blame him, because you know how you must look.

“Are you gonna order?” He asks impatiently.

You clench your fists and try to at least breathe in and out. “I–”

The bell to the front door jingles as someone pushes the door open quickly. You and the barista turn to the man that has entered the cafe. He has snow white hair and a dark pair of glasses that he pushes up the bridge of his nose. You can see how his chest rises and falls quickly, as if he’d just run a marathon. He swipes his gaze across the room before meeting your eyes. Your eyes widen when he locks his eyes with yours. 

“Are you ordering or not?” The barista’s annoyed voice brings you back to reality.

An apology is on the tip of your tongue, but the man who’d just stepped inside comes over with a grin on his face. 

“Sweetheart! Sorry to make you wait, I couldn’t find my card.” He stands besides you, laying a careful hand on your shoulder. He pouts at the barista. “I didn’t mean to make you guys wait, we’ll order now. What was it that you said you wanted to try, honey?”

You startle when you realize he’s talking to you. You stumble through your order. The mystery man orders after you do, handing the barista his card to pay and making small talk. Your drinks are made fast, and you can’t blame the barista for wanting to be rid of you as soon as possible.

You don’t know what you’re expecting, but it’s not the stranger keeping an arm over your shoulder as you leave. He doesn’t let go after you walk out of the shop, or even when you’ve traveled a block away. Your heart stutters in fear as you try to think of a way to escape his grip. 

But then he whispers into your ear, “Do you want me to handle this thing for you? It’s awfully close, don’t you agree?”

It takes you too long to realize he’s talking about your monster. Your monster that no one should be able to see. “You can see it too? I thought I was crazy.”

He grins. “You still might be, that’s not for me to decide. This special grade curse looks like it’s been brewing for a while. You poor thing, you can’t get rid of it, can you?”

You blink. “What? Special grade what?”

He ignores you, rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder in comfort. “How long has it been bothering you?”

“Since I was seven.”

For the first time, he looks surprised. “That long, huh? Let me take care of it, sweet pea. You won’t have to suffer much longer.”

You feel a rush of wind at your side and the stranger’s warmth disappears. It feels like you blink, and the creature turns to dust. Just like that, almost twenty years’ worth of suffocation is gone. The constant, overwhelming pressure against your skin is gone. The man appears at your side once more. 

It’s such a relief, and it's almost embarrassing how quickly you deflate against this man. He holds you to his side gently, running his hand against your back as you sob into his neck. You should have more shame, but you can’t bring yourself to care at all. 

You mutter your gratitude into his skin, and you can feel him shudder against your lips.

He lets out a shaky breath before grinning at you. “How ‘bout I walk you home? So I can make sure none of these curses bother you anymore, sweetheart.”

You’re flustered, stumbling over your reply before giving him a, “O-okay. Thank you.”

He lets out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Of course, honey.”

You can’t handle it. This man is a stranger, but he’s so…friendly. Thanks to your monster—your curse—you’ve never allowed yourself to be close to anyone in fear that the creature would snap and have its way. And though it’s hard to break away from your habit of fear, this man’s presence calms your fast-paced heart. He makes you feel safe. 

Once you’ve arrived at your apartment, you feel disappointment brew in your chest. “This is my place,” you mumble. “Thank you for helping me. For the first time in my life I feel…light.”

He smiles at you. “Can I give you my number? In case a curse like this ever bothers you again. All you have to do is call and I’ll be there for you.”

You agree easily, because you want to see him again, even if it’s in a less than ideal circumstance. You pass your phone to him, peering over his shoulder as he types his name into your phone. He pauses his typing to smile over at you, and it makes you flustered enough to turn away.

He laughs. “Aw, sorry, sugarplum. Didn’t mean to embarrass you. Could I get a name to match that pretty face of yours?”

You tell him your name, only considering a moment later that you probably shouldn’t give your name out to a stranger so easily. But you feel comfortable around him, and you find yourself trusting—you glance down at the contact name he’d set for himself—Satoru. You trust Satoru.

You turn to go inside your apartment building, but Satoru calls your name and you turn back, a look of concern flickering over your face.

He rubs his hand against the back of his neck. He looks almost…shy? “You can use my number, uh, even if there’s no curse. Do whatever you want with it, actually. I’m always available to talk. If you have questions about all of this, of course.”

The furrow in your brow eases and you smile and thank him again. You wave your phone in the air briefly. “I’m sure I’ll find something useful to do with this.”

And before you head back inside your apartment, you glance behind you almost instinctively. But there’s no more monster to worry about. The only thing behind you is your strange savior. You promise yourself that you’ll take him up on his offer, as many times as he’ll have you.

[peaxhygirl]

𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙰𝚂 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 - 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙴

: ̗̀➛𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙾𝙲

: ̗̀➛𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: More fluff from Armando and Dove. In which, he simply enjoys his time with her, contemplating the future.

: ̗̀➛𝙰𝙽: In the Dove x Armando universe he knows nothing about Mike. -- Also, these prompts are not in chronological order, I just write them as I think of them, and I'll probably order them later.

Currently Armando was stationed on the couch with a sleeping Dove resting her head on his lap. His eyes studied her face for a moment before they traveled down to her belly that was swollen with his child.

Pride filled his chest as he rubbed small circles into her skin. The presence of a little foot pushing back on his hand made him smile.

That was his son.

Sometimes he wondered how he managed to convince this woman to be with him, well he knew how. A lot of begging, and it was in fact a lot.

It took a while, yet she was worth every bit of it. For her, he'd be the man he thought no one would ever bring out of him. For his son, he'd be the father he never truly had. Benito was in jail right along with his mother before he died, for the most part he was raised by the cartel and those weren't exactly the most loving and caring people.

In all fairness neither was he, he truly couldn't be in his line of work. Having a soft spot of any kind meant death and he wouldn't allow that to happen. Especially not now, which is why he was so protective of Dove. He enjoyed his fast life, the money, the cars, the respect, but; it all paled in comparison to what he felt seeing her smile at him.

He'd do anything for her, which is why he had a parenting book in his other hand. He had no clue how to care for a child, at least not in the way she did. It was scary that was for sure, especially having no one to turn to with his concerns but nevertheless he'd figure it out. This was his family now.

For his hijo, he'd either build the world up or burn it down depending on how it treated him. Hopefully, things never got to the point but if they did, he'd be ready.

Just like he was ready for this woman to wake up from her god forsaken nap. He couldn't wait for her to see the surprise he had for her. His eyes shifted over to her left hand, the shining engagement ring that he'd slipped on about ten minutes ago sat proudly on her finger.

"Yea." He mumbled with a smirk. "She's gonna faint."

One more thing friends, leave some replies about what Dove's name should be!!

[kaveehs]

Sweetener — Gojo Satoru

fem!reader, wc 0.8k, fluff, established relationship, workaholic!gojo, first years make a cameo <3

synopsis: gojo had always liked sweet things, you were no exception

a/n: i’ve been so busy lately but i finally finished this piece!!! recently i’ve been missing gojo so much so i had so much fun with this <333

requested by: @the-weeping-author

Gojo Satoru undoubtedly had a sweet tooth.

Sure, he had a variety of pastries and candies at his disposal that he could use to curb his insatiable need for sweetness in his life, but they all paled in comparison to you. From the moment Satoru first met you, he could tell something was fairly different about you.

At a first glance, he could tell you were a bit apprehensive of him. This was nothing new, after all he carried such an intimidating title attached to him since he was young. Despite it all, you always greeted him with a smile and such warm words. There was no doubt that you were a kind girl at heart, but there was so much more to it than that to him. Your compassionate nature didn’t come with a catch, nor did it waiver the closer you and him became, it only strengthened his feelings towards you.

You always thought he had been exaggerating when he had expressed how just you alone could calm his overwhelming sweet tooth when your relationship with him first began, but he truly meant every word of it, no matter how dramatic it sounded.

“Honey!” Satoru called out to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Of course it was only natural for him to call you something so sweet you couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon, let alone spare time to visit me at work, how was it?” Before coming to his office, you had been scoping out a new bakery he had been dying to go to, but couldn’t due to being constantly cooped up at work.

“Great, I brought back some things I thought you might like,” you answered, handing him the small box of pastries you’d saved for him. He pulled back half of his blindfold, happily accepting the box into his hands which had been much larger than the pastry box. Just as he flipped open the lid, he noticed a shift in your expression.

“What’s with the sad face, sweetheart? You wanna try some too? You know I don’t mind sharin’,” he teased. His comment caught you somewhat by surprise— you didn’t even notice the change in your face.

“No, it’s not that,” you slightly bit the lower corner of your lip. “I just wish we could’ve gone together. You’ve been workin’ so much, y’know?”

Satoru paused for a moment, placing the treats on his desk as he got up from the comfort of his office chair. “I know baby,” he uttered sympathetically as his arms engulfed your body. “‘M sorry,” he said as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “When I have free time, I promise I’ll take you on the best trip ‘n you’ll have my full attention.”

“You mean it,” your eyes glistened with excitement at his words. A full trip where you could simply enjoy each other’s company, the thought alone was lovely.

“Y’know I don’t like to make promises I can’t honor,” a grin found its way to his face. “Of course I mean it.”

As you subconsciously squeezed him tighter, pulling him closer for a soft kiss, you heard the sound of snickers just as your lips were about to connect… his first year students. You pulled away from him, despite the small pout on his face.

“Before we get to that, I gotta assign my students here, more work. Clearly they seem to have a bunch of time to kill,” he spoke in a sarcastic yet matter-of-fact manner, laughing at their pleads for mercy. “Utahime’s been houndin’ me about your academic performance anyway. Perfect timing if you ask me.”

“Come on ‘Toru, go easy on them,” you remarked while trying to contain your own laughter.

“…Maybe I’ll let the assignments slide for today.”

“And just like that, he folds,” Itadori blinked, in awe at how quick he was to change his decision because of your interjection.

“It’s almost impressive how much control she has over someone like Gojo,” Nobara chimed in. Megumi shook his head.

“It’s nothing like that,” he sighed as if he knew all too well the truth of his mentor’s nature. “He’s just soft. Always has been.”

“Now now,” Gojo cleared his throat, it was telling he had been a bit embarrassed by the back and forth banter of his students. “Maybe I should switch things up a little bit— and teach you all a small life lesson.” This promise of a new lesson seemed to pique the interests of Nobara and Itadori. “When you find the love of your life—” he began as he looked over to you, however his speech was cut off by the simultaneous groans of his students.

“How informative,” you joked, followed by such a genuine laugh that spread to him so easily. Though you did learn something new with his eight words— that he saw you as the love of his life.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be Gojo Satoru’s sweetener afterall.