#THE DELULU INTENSIFIES

[hayaku14]

HE'S DISGUISED IN A HEIKAZU MOVIE BEFORE

HE CAN DO IT AGAIN.

[hellomayu]

finders keepers

[unabashednightmarepizza]

Excuse me and my sis for crying because of Good Omens as I curse shit at Azi... She just watched and finished the second season, now I'm trying to console her while being like this:

[goldennika]

Since the US leg of TXT’s ACT: PROMISE tour will be in June, that means they’ll be doing their Japan tour in July and I’ll already be there by then so I could enjoy my birthday trip and a TXT con on the same trip!!!

[rayroseu-reblogs]

LEARN FROM YOUR SON LILIA !!!! He only took 2 single pulls to arrive YDOWUCIAICJAJBX

[straynoahide]

they want to stop it but how far are they willing to go in the war against the delulu lord? are they going to match the host of the west? are they ready to sink continents? nothing less can stop saurondriel.

weak people, i say

"Why do you ship Galadriel and Sauron? The actors said it was greater than romance, a cosmic connection, so it's not romance! Besides he's evil and they can never be together !"

How is that argument supposed to stop me exactly 💀

[konigsblog]

HC that kidnapper!Konig loves to spike your food with aphrodisiacs so his twisted mind can delulu himself into thinking that you love and desire him as much as he desires you 💦❤️

TW: INTOXICATION, NON-CON/DUB-CON. MDNI 18+

Kidnapper-König has to reassure himself that what he's doing isn't as sick and twisted as people claim it is. He can't live with the guilt, shame, and horror that comes with his immorality and sickening actions, how overly controlling and possessive he is. The guilt weighs heavily on his shoulders, churning his stomach at the thought of the repercussions. He wants you to adore him, to convince himself that you're head over heels with him — obsessed with him just like he is with you. Dote on him, little mouse. Please.

He'll lace your food with aphrodisiacs so that you'll cling to him, plead with him to relieve that worsening pain between your thighs. If you're desperately crawling after him, desperate to mate with the sicko, then you love him! He can't live with the thought that you don't love him. He's determined for you to initiate, for you to crave him.

You'll barely remember what happened the next day, only the growing and intensifying ache between your legs will leave you pondering on what König had done to your intoxicated, numb body the night before.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Lonely Together ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

LONELY TOGETHER | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  1.8k | CONTENT: disgusting brainrot from the Jackson era Joel pic being released, unhinged delulu take on him being sad and lonely and fixing it with sex as a coping mechanism, just general filth idk what to tell you, he's got a mouth on him, degradation kink?, use of derogatory terms but in a sexy way, my result of "sad horny" on the what kind of horny are you? quiz making a lot of sense in this fic

| SYNOPSIS: Joel is lonely. You're lonely. You decide to be lonely together.

It had started out naturally. Joel Miller’s house was remarkably quiet these days, some fracture in his relationship with his step-daughter Ellie being the catalyst for her departure, and he walked around most of the time looking like a kicked puppy. You were no better and with much less of a valid reason to be such a sad sack. You shared one thing in common above all else: loneliness. You’d both honed in on it, recognizing it in another person but not really knowing what to do with it for yourself let alone somebody else.

That is, until, the root of the loneliness made itself clear. You were desperate to be wanted, and Joel was desperate to be needed. A symbiotic give and take that restored some sense of equilibrium to the world when you gave into the urges and gave into each other.

And maybe you wouldn’t normally be so whiny and so pathetic. Maybe Joel wouldn’t normally speak so harshly and demanding. But you drew it out of each other, a safe place to be the worst versions of yourselves and chase what the mind and body needed to make things feel better if just for a little while.

There was no shame in how you meshed together. No second thoughts or chastisement for any notion of your ego being left completely checked and abandoned at the door or his flying off at the mouth with some manic call to ownership. It’s part of what made this dynamic work so well.

You refused to let yourself feel guilt or embarrassment over how he made you feel and act, and he didn’t kick himself for this rough, insistent version of himself that you brought out. It’s what led to a nearly constant need for each other, saying and being things that never left the walls of his home where you normally met up and often stayed the night.

“I know you’re not muffling those pretty little sounds,” he grunts and jerks your head up from where it’d been buried in the pillows as he slammed into you from behind. “Those are my sounds. They belong to me, and I wanna hear ‘em.”

You choke out some pathetic moan and let him puppet your head with his hand clutched around a fistful of your hair. The impact of his drives intensifies as he seeks out more of his sounds. Between the air being punched from your lungs and the mouth of your cervix being punched by his cockhead, you aren’t entirely sure what sounds you’re making, let alone if they’re enough to feed his demand for them.

“Yeah, there you go,” he husks and grips his free hand around the crease of your thigh to pull you closer to him. 

There were times when he was particularly possessive and desperate, and your body subconsciously pulled away from the intensity of his focus, only to have him drag you back even closer to his whims. You always let him. He never gave you more than you could take, and, when he did, it always ended up being just a touch further than what you understood you could manage. He was always forcing you to learn about yourself like that. You resented and pursued it all the same.

“You know better than to make me chase this sweet little cunt,” he snaps. 

You mewl out some kind of apology, but you both know this is just another part of the dynamic that feeds you both.

He pushes your shoulders down into the mattress, head sideways so he can still hear what he does to you, and jerks your hips back. You’re practically limp as a ragdoll, having gone at this now for the better half of an hour, growing exhausted from being taken to the edge so many times just to have him draw back at the last minute.

He pounds into you, and the wet smack of your smeared arousal sounds with each snap of his hip against you. Your slick is everywhere –  your pussy drooling and begging and crying for release – a sort of debauched canvas he’s made out of you in all the ways he’s bent you and folded you and angled you for his liking. He locks your wrists behind the small of your back and uses the leverage to somehow pound impossibly harder.

You feel like you’re about to push through the mattress in a few thrusts if he keeps up this pace, a mind boggling stamina for someone in his 50s. It felt like at times his need to be needed outweighed your need to feel wanted, but you would never complain about the frenzied fervor it invoked in him.

Just as you’ve accepted your fate of being plowed through the mattress, he’s yanking you flush against his chest and driving you down onto his cock. Your hands fly for an anchoring point, and Joel obliges by wrapping an arm under yours and crossing it against your chest and neck until he’s cradling your throat in his palm. Your hands claw onto his forearm like a port in a storm, and you hold on for dear life.

He grips your throat, just enough for you to respond how he wants: a tiny shiver and a throaty moan.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunts. He’s slamming you down onto his cock now, almost deranged in how he seeks out any and every way to make you come completely undone. “My little fuckhole. Say it.”

“I’m–I’m your little fuckhole,” you choke out around the squeeze of his hand.

“You better mean it, baby. Any hole is mine, ain’t that right?”

As if to prove his point, he slips his thumb into the rim of your ass with ease, all the smeared lubrication of your unfulfilled orgasms making a slippery entrance for him to finger. You gasp and clench around him, around his thumb and his cock, all excitement and nerves and anticipation for where he would take this.

You cry out when he plunges his thumb deeper, maybe a reminder that you hadn’t answered him, and you were expected to always answer him.

“Anything! All of them!” you yelp. The sting of his thumb now steadily pumping in and out of you made you feel all the more dizzy and keen for release.

Apparently pleased with your corroboration, he slips his thumb out and grips onto your hip once more to resume his devastating drives. He presses your head back against his shoulder until your ear is next to his breathy mouth.

“Bet you’d let me wreck you there, too, wouldn’t you? Rip you open on my cock ‘til you were gashed and gaped, huh?” He sounds unhinged and so close to spilling inside you that you can’t help but moan and clench.

He breathes a laugh, all he can manage at this pace, and bites onto your earlobe before letting whatever crazed thought that passes through his pussydrunk brain spill from his lips. “Would wreck that hole, baby. Would have you sent up to the clinic just to see what they could do for it. Tryna hide your face all embarrassed when you gotta tell ‘em it’s all wrecked like that because you’re such a nasty fuckin’ whore for my fat cock. Let me use whatever hole I want just because I can, ain’t that right?”

You don’t question why his frenzied promise of fucking your ass so hard you’d need to go to the clinic makes your orgasm come blazing from out of nowhere up the back of your spine. He’s not far behind, a few more thrusts before he’s groaning and filling you with more wet and slip. You collapse together onto the bed and lay limp and panting for what seems like forever as he softens inside you.

You come back to earth when Joel gently nudges you and nuzzles your neck and ear. “You okay?”

It always struck something strange in your chest when he got tender like that, sounding genuinely worried he’d gone too far or been too rough. But, just like always, it was exactly what you needed. What you both needed.

“I’m okay. Felt so good,” you tell him in earnest. He pulls you closer to him and drinks in your praise. He needed this as much as he needed to bury himself inside of you. “Always make me feel so good, Joel.”

He hums a little gravelly acknowledgement and presses a line of soft kisses to your neck. You smile and wiggle your head for him to kiss more of you. It felt unreal in these moments afterward, each time building something strangely sacred and dangerously close to attachment. To companionship. To raw, genuine feelings. To love.

But that hadn’t ever been the point of this, and it felt terrifying to acknowledge. It was easy to say you came to him because he made you feel wanted. It was easy to say he broke you down and built you back up because you gave him that control.

It was decidedly complicated to say you maybe had found more in each other than intended, and neither of you needed complicated. So you deflect. You change the subject. You skirt around the elephant in the room.

“So,” you start and turn over to face him. He hisses as his softening cock slides out of you. You feel his cum dribble out of your cunt, and you want so badly to press your hand down there to keep every bit of him inside you longer.  

He props himself up on his elbow to focus his attention on whatever it is you’re about to say, his fingertip drawing idle lines across your jaw and lips.

“You wanna fuck my ass for the first time, and I’m gonna get reamed so bad I’m gonna need to seek medical attention?” you tease.

He laughs a little at your delivery and at himself for getting so unhinged that he’d babbled about it in the first place. “Nah, baby, just got caught up in the moment. Would never wanna wreck it that bad ‘cause then I wouldn’t be able to fuck it again.”

You snort and grab at his chin. “Wow, not because I would have a wrecked asshole for the rest of my life? You just want it intact enough to fuck as many times as you want?”

He shoots you a lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t that the point of all this? Me fuckin’ you how I want? You gettin’ what you need?”

It sounds false on his lips to the point that even he makes a microexpression of acknowledgement that it might’ve started that way but had morphed into something more – something complicated. But, at least for today, you were going to keep it easy.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you agree with an impish smile. You drag Joel down into a sloppy, lazy kiss.

[mi-bella-vida]

glad he’s loyal but SUCKS that it has to be with her 😭

woke up to terrible news. why did aaron taylor johnson have to be the most loyal husband

[pennyellee]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: champagne confetti pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 14K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 release date: 24.1.2024 23:00/11 PM CEST - 17:00/5 PM EDT

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem and m receiving), spanking, implied cum swallowing, creampie, soft yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

author's note: so, ehm, this story got way outta my hands, it was supposed to be a goddamn rom-com with enemies to lovers trope - i wanted to build around the character trope of Rachel Green from Friends because she is my favourite character of all times, what i wanted to build around was how Rachel was offered a job at Louis Vuitton but it was in Paris - that was supposed to be the whole plot (with slight changes ofc), well and somehow it went in a different direction. Nonetheless I really enjoyed writing this fic and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much. See you on the 24th chummers, love you! 🩵

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink?—” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you couldn't help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

“I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—”

.

.

.

read here

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy - @mylyus-blog - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim

ps: lemme know if you want to be additionally tagged! 🩵

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

[sunkeji]

Immature sorceres

a/n: sorry for being m.i.a from writing, I just didn't have the energy to finish any of my ideas and things have been chaotic at home lately. But it's been solved! And I'm going on holiday soon so that's exciting.

cw: none

synopsis: a day with Gojo who has a crush on you, and the lengths he goes to in keeping it a secret. (Worst synopsis you've read, I'm open to ideas to rename it)

credits: none

Check my masterlist for further updates to this series: delulu chidish

"So, how much do you actually like y/n?" Geto asks Gojo. Gojo replies, "Oh, you know... Like a normal amount. If they ask me out right now, I would say yes with absolutely no hesitation."

Geto smirks at Gojo and states knowingly, "I don't see how checking y/n's social media profile every half an hour is normal, so I'm concerned with what you deem as normal... but considering it's you, nothing is normal." Gojo gets defensive and starts shouting at Geto, while Geto, being the instigator he is, adds more fuel to the fire.

Soon after, they're chasing each other around the basketball court while shouting profanities at each other. Shoko huffs a tired sigh and takes another puff from her cigarette, muttering about the immaturity of the two powerful sorcerers. As the chase intensifies, she calmly exhales smoke rings, seemingly unbothered.

Shoko texts you to come over to the basketball court, and you reply, saying that you'll be there in a few minutes.

When you arrive at the entrance of the basketball court, the first thing you notice are your black and white-haired friends wrestling each other on the ground. Shoko, on the other hand, is no better and is egging them both on while recording their wrestling match on her phone.

You sigh tiredly at the chaos unfolding before you. "Can't the two of you act your age for once?" You sigh exasperatedly, but they don't hear you. Shoko exhales a plume of smoke and calmly remarks, "They're just blowing off steam, Y/N. It's their way of bonding." You shake your head and mutter, "More like their way of causing trouble." Shoko laughs at your remark.

You can hear both of them grunting and saying something to each other when you hear your name roll out of Geto's mouth as he smirks at Gojo. You see that Gojo has gone wide-eyed and gasped dramatically before starting to screech at Geto once more. Geto, on the other hand, is laughing his ass off and has a smug expression, as if he's holding something over Gojo.

As the two of them continue their raucous chase, you and Shoko walk over to the entrance and take a seat on one of the benches. Shoko says to you, "You know, despite their immaturity, they care about each other more than they'd admit."

A voice from the entrance says, "Maybe, but they have a strange way of showing it." You and Shoko turn around to see your sensei, Yaga, standing menacingly and staring straight at the black and white-haired duo with his arms crossed.

The black and white-haired duo in question have now moved on to pulling at each other's faces, which made their speech slurred. Yaga shouts at them, "Here I am giving you a break, and this is what you do?".

Gojo scrambles to get off Geto and defend himself, but before he can, Geto interrupts him and says, "Actually, Gojo started getting physical first. All I did was say, Stalking Y/(your name)-," but before he could finish, Gojo had tackled Geto onto the floor and slapped a hand on Geto's mouth.

"HAHAHA SUGURU YOU'RE SO FUNNY BRO SO FUNNY, I'll do your laundry for a week if you shut up right now." Gojo mutters the last quietly to Geto, who smiles triumphantly and takes up Gojo's offer immediately.

Yaga sighs and mumbles quietly, "And you still have the cheek to tackle Geto right in front of me."

-

Gojo is getting reprimanded by Yaga at the side while the three of you sit together near the benches. When Geto takes a seat between you and Shoko, you ask him, "I heard you say my name while tustling with Satoru just now; what was that about?"

"Oh, it's nothing; I was just teasing him. Did you see his face? It was absolutely hilarious."

When Gojo is done being reprimanded by Yaga, he sulkily walks over and sits next to you on the empty side. He leans his head on your shoulder, and Poutily says, "It's not fair... I didn't even start it, but I'm the one being scolded, and on top of that, I have to do Suguru's laundry. Life just isn't fair."

After Gojo finishes his dramatics, he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You're about to push him off and tell him that his hair is tickling you, but before you could do so, you heard him mumble something along the lines of asking someone out, and then a long line of groans followed suit.

After that, you stopped listening because now he's just started saying gibberish and talking about anything that crosses his mind.

"Well, if you're free next Thursday afternoon, we could go to this new café that opened. It sells a variety of sweet and savory foods, and I've been wanting to go." You ask Gojo as you pat his hair gently as a way to comfort him.

Gojo looks up at you through his sunglasses and asks, "Just you and me?". 

You stare at him for a bit before answering, "I mean, sure, why not? I initially wanted all of us to go, including Nanami and Haibara, but... we could go ourselves too."

"Really?! Good! But you gotta promise not to bail on me," Gojo exclaims happily.

You nod your head in agreement, and Gojo's back to being his exuberant self.

Gojo in this entire fic is literally the embodiment of: 😔

[missmatchablossom]

Gojo x Reader Royalty AU | Part II.

summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. when you finally come of age and move into his palace, the two of you are forced to spend time together as the future queen and king of the nation. the future king definitely seems to have a thing for you though.

a.n: here is the link to part I of the story! this next part is a little fluff between you and gojo, where the two of you are slowly developing feelings :)

tags: @lysaray I hope you enjoy!

~

Part II.

The arrival of the evening quieted the usual hustle and bustle of the castle. You admired the path the lanterns paved to the west wing of the castle, where Gojo resided.

You carefully made your way towards Gojo’s study, trying your best to avoid making sounds in case he was in the middle of an important phone call, which was often. The familiar wooden door was slightly ajar, and you couldn’t help yourself as you peaked inside and admired the sight of the prince. 

He sat at his usual spot at his desk, his room warmed by the soft glow of his desk lamp. His silvery hair was tousled, his chiseled jaw set in concentration. Your eyes wandered to the sky-blue button-up he had on, the top few buttons undone. It brought out his eyes, which were focused on the documents littering his desk. It was almost painful how handsome he really was.

“You could take a picture princess. I promise I won’t mind,” he said, his expression relaxing and his lips morphing into a teasing smirk. 

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you strolled to sit in your favorite spot on the couch across from him. Ever since the night of the ball, you found yourself sneaking visits to him every chance you got. And by the way he started leaving his door open for you, he didn’t seem to mind.

He placed his elbow on his desk, propping his head onto his palm as he looked at you. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, flashing you his infamous smile. That damned smile that made your heart squeeze no matter how often you saw it now.

“I overheard that someone hasn’t eaten dinner yet,” you said, searching his face. Despite the teasing note in his voice, the dullness in his eyes gave away his exhaustion. The more time you spent with him, the more you learned about the insane workload he took on. You urged him to let you help, but he gently declined, saying it was business he had to handle himself. 

The few times you brought up concerns for his health, he reassured you with a smile and a wink that he took care of himself. Once you befriended the staff who cared for him, you realized how much of a lie that was. They told you how the prince had began skipping meals and working late into the night ever since his brother abdicated. 

“I got busy,” he said shortly, blinking slowly as if he were realizing how tired he was.

“It's 11:00pm Prince Gojo,” you chided, crossing your arms and giving him a look.

“You can call me Toru, you know. But I do like it when you call me your prince,” he said casually, seemingly aware of how that comment intensified the fluttering you felt in your chest everytime he looked at you.

“Alright then, Toru,” you began, watching the pleased expression spread across his face when you called him by his first name.

“If you’re not gonna let me help you with your work, you have to at least promise me you’ll eat properly,” you said softly.

He stared at you incredulously, as if no one had ever cared about his health before. But you didn’t give him time to respond as you left to grab the tray of food from the cart you left outside his door, leaving it on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. 

“You brought me food?” he asked, the disbelief evident in his voice. It wasn’t often you got to see this side of him, the side that didn’t hide everything behind a smile.

“I brought us food actually, I haven’t had a second to eat yet until now either,” you admitted, feeling shy again. The two of you were so busy lately it was hard to even catch one meal a week with him, and you missed him. You wouldn’t admit that though - not yet.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, patting the seat on the couch next to you, gesturing to him to come sit with you. 

You felt heat pass through you as his gaze shamelessly swept you up and down, taking in the cerulean sundress you had on. You totally didn’t pick it to match his eyes, nope.

“Starved,” he said, shooting you a tight smile before moving to settle beside you on the couch, the scent of his cologne kissing your nose.

“Sorry, it might be a bit cold,” you admitted, eager to change the subject. He shook his head.

“This is great, thank you. I’m really hungry,” he said sincerely, and you nodded as you placed a plate in his hand and began loading it up with food you knew he liked.

He thanked you again, never taking his warm, reverent gaze off of you. 

You both ate in comfortable silence, devouring the food in front of you at a faster pace than usual. 

When you were done, he cleared your plates and grabbed the carafe of water by his desk. He filled one glass and silently handed it to you, setting another on the coffee table for himself. You reveled in moments like these, where it finally felt like you had him to yourself.

You smiled to yourself as you sipped the mint-infused water, remembering something about him hating the taste of plain water.

“I have something for you,” he said, making his way to the shelves by his desk. He pulled out a small cardboard box as he walked towards you with a rare, shy smile.

“You got me something?” you said, unable to hide the surprise in your voice as he gingerly placed the box in your hand.

“It’s something small. I picked it up at a cafe when I went out today for that conference,” he said. You didn’t miss the rub of his thumb against his pulse point - the only sign of nervousness he ever showed. You opened up the box, unable to contain your smile as you found a gigantic cupcake inside. 

You gasped in delight, hearing him immediately chuckle in response.

“You got me a cupcake?” you asked in disbelief, chest tightening as you imagined the crown prince of the nation setting time aside in his busy schedule to buy you a cupcake.

“It’s white chocolate matcha,” he said, his cerulean eyes sparkling expectantly.

“My favorite,” you said, voice in a near whisper. You recalled mentioning it to him the night of the ball, but you couldn’t believe he remembered. 

“Thank you,” you muttered, staring at the cupcake as if it were the most precious jewel in the nation. You couldn’t recall the last time someone had bought you something so simple, yet so meaningful.

“You are welcome, princess,” he said, an indulgent smile gracing his lips. 

“You don’t have to keep calling me princess, you know,” you said, throwing his own words back at him.

He hummed to himself, stretching his long arms out so they wrapped around the back of the couch - and around you by default.

“But I like calling you princess. Especially when you still blush everytime I call you that,” he said lowly, gently brushing his knuckles against the pink spreading across your cheeks.

You pressed your lips together to hide the shy smile on your face, turning your head away from him and placing the back of your hand against your cheek. It was indeed warm.

“You are such a flirt,” you said, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“You love it,” he teased, and you didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes again, turning your attention towards the cupcake in your hands. 

He handed you a fork and you eagerly took a bite, eyes rolling back as you savored the sweetness. 

“Holy fuck,” you said, staring at the prince in wonder.

“Such foul language for a princess,” he said, chuckling as he watched you.

“That good?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly. It was the best cupcake you had ever tried.

You grew embarrassed as he continued to stare, looking as if he’d be happy to watch you eat that cupcake forever. Feeling brave, you turned to him with a forkful of the cupcake, lifting it up towards him in offering.

“Want to try some?” you said boldly, enjoying the way his eyes widened ever so slightly whenever you were brave enough to catch him off guard.

Any boldness you had dissipated as he grinned, dipping his head down towards you as he placed his mouth gently over the fork, eyes flickering up to you for a second as he pulled back. 

You swore you stopped breathing as he used a swipe of his tongue to wipe the small bit of frosting off his top lip. You’ve never been so jealous of a fork.

He hummed contently to himself as he leaned back against the couch. 

“Delicious,” he said. 

Yes, yes he is.

You cleared your throat, focusing your attention to your cupcake to stop the trail of unholy thoughts in your mind. Every now and then, you’d feed him another bite, not daring to look him in the eye when his lips met with the fork. The two of you demolished the cupcake, and he got up take the empty box from your hands before you even got a chance to get up.

“Alright, I’ll let you finish up your work,” you said, moving to stand from the couch.

He stopped you with a cool hand covering your knee.

“Stay,” he said.

Badump. Badump.

You placed your hand over his, giving him a small squeeze.

“Don’t you have a lot left to do, my prince?” you asked, smiling at the hint of a blush reaching the tips of his ears.

“Well yes, but I’d much rather hear about your day. Cmon, talk to me,” he said, nudging your knee with his. 

“Hmm, alright. But only if you promise to sleep at least 7 hours tonight,” you said, knocking his knee back.

He let out a laugh, lighter than any laugh you’d heard from him before. 

“Deal. Now start talking, princess,” he said, turning his body and his attention fully towards you, where it stayed for the rest of the night.

[morinuu]

LISTWN TO ME I JUST READ YOUR TAMAKI ANGST AND YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE SO FICKING GOOD??

A she falls but he falls harder

Reader finally gets over it and stops coming, moving on and focusing on herself, and he notices and starts realizing how he took her for granted

And then its him that's loosing his mind and shit like that. Dude. Dude. I'm loosing my MIND you write so well

first of all ty for the compliment >< so glad u liked it im blushing and giggling!! secondly im not sure abt the reader completely abandoning tamaki's side (i love being delulu), but i do have smth else in mind that's kinda similiar n i hope its satisfactory :3 i changed only a minor part from the og :P i wanna make this a small series..... maybe like 3-4 parts.. anw this is pt 1

☀︎｜tamaki x female reader. almost 4k words. continuation of this. ure sick, yamada hinata & aoko r just some ppl i made up for the plot, tamaki's pretty stupid n emotionally unintelligent, lots of feelings and background information, y'all r childhood friends, there's like one 4th wall break but i thought it was kinda funny so i kept it

you weren't a fan of february.

allergy season was your absolute worst, the wheezing and coughing sucking the life out of you as you struggled to change out of your clothes to get the day started. you didn't sleep much, interrupted constantly by your sore throat aching and squeezing.

sure, it's just hay fever to everyone else, but for a young woman who carried around an inhaler, it's hell. well, almost hell.

what was truly hellish wasn't the fatigue or the sneezing, but your mum dragging you back in the house and forbidding you from going to school until you're well enough to study again. how were you supposed to keep up with chemistry class if you skip?

not that your parents cared for your grades; they knew you could just enter whatever field you wanted with the connections your family held, but it felt nice to be awarded for working hard.

after your personal maid let out a small "pardon me, miss" and carried you back to bed, you realised that the feeling your soft quilt hugging your cold limbs would never be beaten by the jacket you desperately clung on to warm yourself in p.e - which just so happened to be your first period that day and you were dreading it.

"i'll be making you some tea, miss. would you like to breakfast now?" your maid's quiet voice addressed you, hoping you'd just sleep the illness off as you usually did so she could rest too.

to be fair, you weren't a very easy master to please, so could you blame her?

"i'll breakfast la-" a cough and some wheezing "-i'll breakfast later, bring some english breakfast with a slice of lemon." you said nothing else, instead focusing on calming your throat that seemed to intensify in soreness. "a pastille too."

"understood my lady, i'll be right back." she bowed and excused herself from your room, ignoring your groans of annoyance as you buried your face into the pillow.

"damn it." you muttered and extended your hand to grab your phone from your bedside table. unlocking it with the passcode (because you weren't in the mood to lift your head and let your phone scan your face) you squinted as the light mode of a social media app hit your eyes harshly, forcing you to use muscle memory to lower the brightness to its minimum.

you scrolled through, liking your friends' private posts and decided to message one of them.

yn.spam: gm dude, i cant come to school today cus im sick. can u do me a favour n tell aoko to give me her notes? she never looks at her messages.

with your phone back on the table to wait for a response, you lied back comfortably and closed your eyes, because as much as you wanted to watch something on netflix or play a video game, you didn't want to make things worse for yourself.

you grew impatient for the cup of tea your maid was brewing, rotating between wheezing, checking your phone and staring at the ceiling. it seemed like the seconds weren't passing by at all.

soon enough, your maid comes back with some fancy tray carrying a kettle, your favourite mug (the one your daddy drank from when you were a little girl before your parents divorced), a tiny plate with some lemon slices and a small box of pastilles as throat medicine.

you didn't thank the woman when she helped you sit up, nor when she stayed by your side to make sure you didn't choke between coughs and burnt yourself with the hot liquid. just as you took your first sip, your phone lit up to show your friend's response.

thatguyhinata: Ayooo gppd morning. Sry to hear tht. Sure if I see her I'll telm her.

the irises in your eyes rolled upwards at the boy's typos that irked you every time, completely ignoring how he didn't wish for your recovery.

yn.spam: thanks yamada

you never used any of your circle's first names, which your mum always found weird.

'you sure these are your friends, darling?' she would ask often, and your response would always be the same:

'yeah mum. leave me be.'

only tamaki had ever felt close enough to be called by his first name.

after swallowing your medicine, you dismissed the older woman standing over you and pulled your quilt over your quivering form again.

"gods, please let this be over soon."

...

well.

...turns out, you gotta be much more specific with what you ask of gods, because they might not have the same understanding of the word 'soon'.

here you are, three days later, with your allergy having been combined with a virus that'd been going around, intensifying your asthma symptoms and raising a high fever, making your mother and doctor ban you from walking into ouran.

halfway throughout the day, you realise what had been completely slipping your mind while your lungs were occupied inhaling abnormally.

"i have an appointment today!" you exclaimed with wide eyes, raising from the bed like lazarus from his grave.

"...?" the new maid next to you didn't say anything, she was clearly concerned. after some seconds of you overthinking something, she spoke up. "you have no other doctor's appointment today, my lady. he just left 10 minutes ago."

you shook your head quickly, ignoring the dizziness brought by your fever "bring me my phone," the girl was puzzled "now!"

bowing a quick apology, she rushed to your desk and handed you your phone with both hands, not daring to look up. you disliked new maids; they were inexperienced and annoying, but scolding her would have to wait.

"damn it, damn it, damn it!" you murmured under your breath and tapped furiously on your phone, trying to find where the hell you'd written kyouya's business e-mail address.

you had it saved as every other client of the host club had, but you had never actually used it, not once.

you never missed an appointment, and always booked the next one tete-a-tete with the black-haired manager. if you became a no-show without prior notice, wouldn't that look bad? would it annoy kyouya and he wouldn't accept you in the club again?

well no, but you had the habit of overthinki-

'would it annoy tamaki?'

you groaned and murmured to yourself - had you deleted it? maybe it was in your notes app and you erased it? was it on your old phone from a month ago?

"find an e-mail for me." you ordered the maid who looked up at you perplexed, but carried out the order nonetheless.

the girl was embarrassed when she found out her master was asking for a host's email, wanting the earth to swallow her when she dialed the ouran academy's number. 'the stuff i do for money..' she thought and prayed her family never found out.

it wasn't a long process to retrieve the address, but what was, was the rant hitting the maid's ears when your overthinking about what to write left your mouth at incredible speeds.

"should i say i'm sick? but he already knows that- he's in my class! maybe tell him to give my time to another girl? no wait, he would do that anyway... or after i apologise, i'll say that, like, something came up- but that's not believable enough... ugh!" you buried your face in your pillow and, unbeknownst to you, your new maid's eye was twitching in annoyance.

she understood now why your personal maid took the week off just when you got sick - not that she understood how and why your mum allowed it though.

(it's because you can be insufferable and she gets it.)

"my lady, may i help?" the girl let out, clearing her throat when you lifted your head from the pillow. "i can write the e-mail myself, please focus on resting."

after some convincing, you gave in.

and so 10 minutes later, back at ouran, kyouya's phone let out a ting! with your full name on the notification. he'd already guessed you wouldn't show up to your appointment considering you hadn't come to school in three days, and already had someone to fill your place but left it for the last moment in case you did show up.

why? well you were ln yn, and it was painfully obvious you were smitten with his best friend, though he could say it was a bit different from the rest of the clientele.

probably due to the fact that you'd known tamaki for much longer than kyouya had. and yet tamaki didn't seem to have the same fascination with you.

he remembers when he first met you, when he'd heard that you were spoiled rotten and weren't even planning to enroll in ouran until tamaki did. you simply transferred to be with the boy.

literally everyone knew of ln yn's almost freakish obsession with suoh tamaki, except for the victim himself.

so imagine his surprise at the strictly professional e-mail he'd received from you, where not a single mention of your host was included. weird.

after glancing at the french boy in the seat next to him eating his bowl of some-sort-of-commoner-convenience-store lunch, kyouya quickly typed a response and informed the next girl in line that a spot was open 'for tamaki's hosting services at 15:35'.

"one of your appointments cancelled due to a personal issue. we'll have someone else fill it." kyouya told tamaki, just as stated in the e-mail, even though it was pretty clear you were sick, and he couldn't figure out why you'd lie.

"hm? oh, okay!" the brunet smiled and went back to devouring his meal, not thinking much of kyouya's words.

kyouya pondered if he should tell him the client was his loyal friend yn, who would never skip out on seeing tamaki, but he stopped himself, curious as to how it would all play out.

eh, if the twins could have fun, so could he.

"oh! haruhii! daddy's here!"

the hours passed so slow you were almost convinced time was frozen when you weren't glancing at the clock on your laptop.

the drama you'd been watching started to lose its interest after presenting the third plot twist in a row, annoying you with all the plot holes it left gaping.

sipping on your green tea (you'd been drinking tamaki's recommendation, pomegranate, only to throw all of it in the trash when you heard he gave the same advice to haruhi), you paused the show and sighed in absolute, tyrannical boredom.

by now you'd normally have finished your classes and walked to music room #3, your favourite among them all.

you'd be welcomed by a host and walked to a sofa to wait for your appointment, ignoring any other girl in the waiting area trying to pick a conversation with the middle child of the ln family.

and soon enough you'd be approached by your one and only taking your hand in his and kissing it to greet you, with his blue eyes staring up at you innocently like a man in love; a look he gave to any woman nowadays, it was second nature to him.

you got lost in them so often, he sometimes dared to ask you if you didn't enjoy his company and that's why you spaced out so much.

preposterous.

you? disliking tamaki? how could he think that after all these years you spent playing together, with you transferring to his school for his sake, swallowing your pride and becoming the client of a host for him?

truly an absurd notion.

currently, however, you weren't in the host club. you were just a girl with a bunch of germs crawling everywhere around her room, unable to go out and see the man of her dreams kiss her cheek and tell her to 'get well soon'.

speaking of, your mum grew increasingly concerned when she noticed the lack of communication between you and tamaki. you were always attached to his hip like some sort of koala, and the fact that you hadn't reached out to him to inform him of your illness personally so he could visit you made her worry.

but it was only natural that you'd suspect you were being an annoyance to tamaki once you began to notice his eyes shift from you to the newest host a couple of months prior. he'd been a petit brunet boy. a first year who was friendly and of lowly origin. you didn't think much of it.

at least not until the day hikaru asked if you could fetch something he forgot in the back room, completely ignorant to the fact that haruhi had come to the club early that day to ask for another uniform because she'd been accidentally thrown water at by two classmates of hers being stupid.

so when you opened the curtain and saw a small-sized girl with only her panties on desperately trying to hide herself from you, it didn't take more than a couple of seconds to put two and two together.

tamaki wasn't fascinated by the commoner errand 'boy' turnt host.

he wanted her.

you closed the curtain, giving the girl her privacy back and muttering an curt apology, "sorry." before deciding that hikaru would have to get his things himself.

neither haruhi nor you spoke about it again, and she never snitched to the host club about your discovery of her sex.

you liked to pretend it never happened, and that it never changed anything. but just like with tamaki, pretending doesn't go anywhere. the hints were there. his furiously blushed face when he stared at her, his protection of her when the twins teased her, his demands for kyouya to do things for haruhi because she'd like it, not even because she'd asked - well, the stage of denial didn't last long.

shortly after came anger. pure, unexplainable rage and envy. the fourth of the deadly sins was soon rushing through your veins like a drug you couldn't get clean from. 'why her?' you would ask in your rampages.

you couldn't figure it out, and you couldn't ask anyone either, because as infuriated as you were, hurting haruhi by revealing her identity wasn't on your to-do list.

not because you were a good person, god no.

rather, if tamaki knew you hurt his precious daughter - you barfed - like that, who knows if you'd see him again?

and so came the bargaining stage, with your rage never leaving your blood stream, of course. being petty was always one of your main personality traits, one that tamaki would often point out.

what did fujioka haruhi have that ln yn didn't?

'nothing.' you muttered to yourself.

nothing.

nothing?

could you be absolutely sure?

you didn't see her much outside of the club, and there were a couple of times you'd heard the hosts hung out together.

maybe they had a moment? or two, three?

perhaps it was high time you stopped bothering him. perhaps then he'd realise you were the one.

that's why your texts to him had much lessened, coming to a complete stop after roughly two months of your self-doubt and insecurities getting the best of you. so did your occasional visits to his house for studying. you'd even stopped wearing the perfume he got you as a birthday present last year, even though you couldn't find another scent that fit your tastes the same way.

despite your attempts at catching his attention, the bubbling fury in your chest rose once again when you realised that maybe tamaki didn't care about you at all.

he texted you as much as you texted him, he hung out with you only when you asked, and when he came closer to you and noticed the change in your scent, he went: "different perfume, princess?"

and while normally you'd be ecstatic at him noticing, your happiness was immediately destroyed when "the other one was a little old fashioned, good thing you moved to something more fresh."

why couldn't he say what he would have said had he been in an otome game, something among the lines of: 'did you wish to match mine?' or something cheesy like that? ...was your scent not to his tastes?

'did he forget his skills from hosting or what?' you whined.

consequently, now that you were sitting around doing nothing to reach out to tamaki or any of your 'friends', your mum couldn't help but take her phone in her hands to call her friend hitachiin yuzuha.

back in the pink room that is the host club, today's rendezvouses seemed to be going by awfully quickly for tamaki.

in the couple of minutes of break he had between the end of this rendezvous and next the one to come, he quickly found his phone from his back pocket and went over his schedule sent by kyouya.

your name had been crossed out and replaced with another one he recognised, another regular guest of his. he raised his eyebrow at that.

he lifted his head and looked for the shadow king.

"hey, kyouya?"

"hm?" kyouya didn't bother to look up from his laptop, furiously typing god-knows-what.

"why's yn's time gone?" he asked innocently in a curious voice that had you heard, you'd be swooning over.

"i told you, she cancelled due to personal business," his answer was straight-forward "although it's probably because she's ill."

ah, that makes sense, you were the one that cancelled.

wait, huh?

"what do you mean she's ill?" his eyebrows furrow a bit and he cocks his head to the side like a cute dog who doesn't understand anything its owner says.

"what do you mean, 'what do i mean'? she's been absent since monday because she's not feeling well, and she won't come today either. pretty simple." kyouya finally looked up at tamaki with a strange expression on his face. "has she not told you?"

tamaki shook his head a bit, "uhm.. no, not really." and tapped his phone again to check his messages on multiple social media apps to make sure he wasn't missing anything. his emails were empty too, only some spam from a newsletter page that he never bothered to cancel his subscription from.

"how do you know?" he questioned kyouya, but before he could answer, "no wait, don't answer that, you creep. of course you know." he sighed.

after some seconds of quiet thinking, "why didn't you tell me?" tamaki continued his questioning.

"everyone already knows, my lord." an awfully familiar voice butt in making the french boy turn his head around, resting his hand on his waist.

the voice belonged to kaoru, who had his arm wrapped around his twin's shoulders. seems like they also just finished with an appointment.

"what does that mean? who's 'everyone' and why am i not included?" tamaki crossed his arms, feeling kind of left out.

"that guy hayato or whatever who hangs out with yn and her friends was telling someone and we overheard." hikaru shrugged in unison with his doppelganger.

honey's soft voice entered the chat. "you mean hinata-kun? yn-chan's friend? yeah, he told me when i asked where yn-chan is because i thought she forgot to bring the candy she promised." he quickly grabbed a piece of cake from the fridge near where kyouya had been sitting and left the room swiftly.

huh, how convenient for him to enter for the plot.

"and why's it that you two evil bastards didn't bother to tell me?" tamaki exclaimed in disbelief, pointing a finger at the both of them. how could they? his precious childhood friend was sick at home and he didn't know?!

"sorry milord-" kaoru announced with his shoulders still raised, "-but you're always talking to yn-" hikaru joined, "-how were we supposed to know you're not asking her about her well-being?" they delivered the finishing blow together.

what were these lame jerks insinuating? 'not asking about her well-being'? what did they know? just as he went to respond with his usual barking, he stopped himself to instead text you on his own for the first time in a while. not that he noticed.

the twins looked at their king with a confused and weirded-out expression on both their faces, before glancing at each other and shrugging again, already disinterested. kyouya had long gone back to his work and so the twins walked to an empty sofa in an almost isolated area of the club, lying on top of one another to give a nice view to whichever client was into it.

about six minutes of pure silence passed between the two before kaoru's phone buzzed; a text from his mum.

the twins read the text simultaneously, with hikaru raising an eyebrow at its contents. they looked back at the slender boy texting you on his phone at the other end of the club, confused about his behaviour.

"seriously...?" hikaru quietly asked kaoru, referring to the text, only to be met with the other's puzzled expression.

as for the half-and-half boy, his fingers were anxiously tapping kyouya's table and awaiting your response to his message.

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: Hey darling! Is everything alright? I heard you didn't come to school because you're sick. I thought you just didn't feel like coming. Why didn't you tell me?

he didn't know you let out a deep sigh at his text, even if it was three days late. it gave you hope - false hope. that he'd started to pay attention to you again. maybe being distant worked-

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: want me to come over?

the question felt natural to him, you always visited his home but seldom did he ever visit yours. since you were sick, it made sense that you wouldn't come over this time.

yn>.&lt; : arent u busy rn tho lol

your name on his phone had obviously been put there by you, his choice of emoji had been party hat for some reason.

"be serious, what does that even mean, tamaki?" you'd asked him one day during a break from your studying in his room.

"you don't like it..?" he pouted like usual and you rolled your eyes.

"here. that's better." you handed him his phone back with a new 'yn >.<' as your contact name.

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: I can just come after club activities.

wait, he was actually coming? after two months of your only contact being through your rendezvous? it worked?! it actually worked?!

you thought of how to answer him.

at your lack of fast response, tamaki thought of ways to help you feel better through your illness.

'aha! eureka!' tamaki's head echoed.

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: I'll bring some commoner snacks we can enjoy too! Commoners have incredible food to help alleviate illness!

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: What are you even sick with, anyway?

of course.

commoner food, of course.

haruhi's food.

yn>.&lt; : lol no its fine i dont want u to get sick. ill just c u at sxhool yn>.&lt; : school* yn>.< : doc said its just a cold but yk w my asthma n shit

tamaki was thoroughly disappointed with your response, what did you mean 'you didn't want him to get sick'? you'd never cared if you caught his cold.

his heart raced with worry, and he decided he would stop by anyway. knowing his next appointment was approaching, he speed walked over to the newest host.

"haaaaruuhiiiiii!" he waved his hand to her and her two clients, smiling widely with all of them smiling back at him.

"yeah? what is it, senpai?" haruhi looked up at him from her armchair.

"sorry to intrude-" he runs his hair through his locks - an action that you told him the ladies would swoon over, "-but i was wondering, do you have any recommendations for commoner food that sick people can eat?"

"...are you serious?"

[rae-pss]

masterlist

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . me x rara canon (i'm delulu). i can't deny my interest in this motherfucker any longer. ˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . lowercase intended, 424 words, angst, reader hates themself, very much possible ooc raphael.

—i should hate you... not be like this with you.

you murmured weakly into the crook of raphael’s neck, inhaling the weirdly comforting scent of his. your hands increased their grip on the front part of his white t-shirt.

—i know, believe me, i know.

his strong arms wrapped around your figure with a gentleness unknown to him, strange to the red angel.

—but, you don't. you can not do it.

even without looking up, you could sense a sideways smile spreading across his face.

his certainly cocky attitude and tone of voice made something grow in you, burning deep in your chest. it was anger, a fervent anger towards yourself at what you knew you felt. 

how could you have fallen in love with him? with one of those who tried to kill you? How insensitive could you be to end up feeling that way towards one of the enemies? a bloody seraph who had killed so many, who had irreparably harmed your friends...

with all your strength, you closed your fist and hit his chest, both knowing that this blow would never hurt him.

you didn't understand how that happened, but you couldn't help but feel your heartbeat rise at the thought of him.

—i loathe you.

you told him, vainly trying to deny the obvious, trying to convince yourself that what you were feeling wasn't real.

a hand on your chin, lifting it, and his crimson orbs meeting your own brought you out of your whirlwind of thoughts. then, raphael clicked his tongue and, delicately in each of his movements, the palm of his hand rested on your cheek, cupping your face. the soft touch of the pad of his thumb on your skin, a watery sensation accompanying it enough to make you realize the tears that at some point began to descend from your eyes.

—do you despise me enough to shed tears? do you detest the idea of us that much?

he asked, still keeping that damn smirk on his face. although, you couldn't disregard the tenderness in his gaze as he observed you. the same one that intensified when he hugged you again. this time, his right hand ended up behind your head, guiding it towards his chest, letting you hide from the world’s cruel irony with his own body as your personal shield; His left arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close.

his hand gently caressed your hair, seeking to calm your crying as soon as possible, not liking the idea of tears staining your face at all.

[ln4author]

𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖣𝖮𝖭'𝖳 𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖶 𝖠𝖡𝖮𝖴𝖳 𝖴𝖲 — Charlie Bushnell fanfic (parts of instagram and chat au)

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WELCOME TO EPISODE 01, ARE YOU READY FOR IT?

@ellarue

liked by gwendolineuniverse, masonalexanderpark, momonatamada, and others

ellarue Tempus Frangit ⏳️ Thank youuuuu ladyyyyy for the photos @gwendolineuniverse

↳ See comments

___

masonalexanderpark Beautiful as always <33 Do you know who will also think this? TOMM, let me go show him the true face of his little sister

↳ ellarue show... show and you will see where your makeup ends up.

↳ masonalexanderpark IT WAS A JOKE ELLA, YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU HONEY <33

↳ ellarue UHUMMMMMMM ME TOO <33

gwendolineuniverse You're welcome dear, they look really pretty, but with a model like that it's hard not to.

↳ ellarue Don't talk like that or you will kill a delulu🤭🤭 (I'M THE DELULU)

↳ xochitl.gomez STOP HITTING ON MARRIED WOMAN ELLA

↳ momonatamada She can't take it, a beautiful married woman appears, and she is like this 🥺🥺

↳ ellarue SHUT UP KKKKKKKKKKKKKK I HATE YOU GUYS, please ignore them Gwen <33

↳ gwendolineuniverse It's fine dear 🤭

momonatamada I wanted to get out of the banality of saying that "you're beautiful", but you as Delirium are another level

↳ xochitl.gomez I remember when she tried on the wig for the first time, she freaked out thinking it would look ugly for the role, like... GIRL, HAVE YOU EVER LOOKED IN THE MIRROR?

↳ ellarue I promise, you are the bestiess I could ask for (It doesn't even look like I wanted to kill you two seconds ago)

↳ xochitl.gomez I love the aesthetic of us being like, FUCK YOU BITCH <33

↳ ellarue @Netflix I NEVER SAID THAT!!!!!!!!!!

user1 Qual a chance de eu e Delírio nos casarmos? (What are the chances of me and Delirio getting married?)

↳ user2 Talvez no dia que ela estiver sã? (Maybe the day she's mentally healthy?)

↳ user1 Merda! (Shit!)

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I throw my cell phone on the bed laughing, I loved it when the comments turned into complete chaos.

The weather today was very good for sleeping, the problem is that, at the moment, I'm having an insomnia crisis. My insomnia attacks always intensify when I'm working on something important, but I always try to ignore them. And that's exactly why at 00:37 I'm scrolling through Instagram, even though I wake up in 5 hours and a few minutes.

My cell phone vibrates at my side, easily gaining my attention. Who could be sending messages at this time? Did something go wrong? I turn on the screen looking for information and then...

"iamcharliebushnell liked your post"

Ah... it was nothing important... Starting to reassure myself again, I go to the profile of the person who liked my photo, something I do whenever I have time. And wait, does Mo follow him? He looks a little familiar to me.

My interest in the profile becomes sudden, or maybe it's just sleep starting to speak louder. Browsing the account I find photos from the end of 2023 that make me understand the reason for the familiarity. He is Luke, like Luke Castellan in the Percy Jackson series, aka one of my biggest crushes in the series (if we don't count Clarisse).

There was just one problem... When we are in the sleep stage, we don't think very well what to do. Or sometimes we don't even think about it. And that's my excuse for liking a photo of him from months ago.

To make my situation worse the next day, I felt my eyes finally get heavy, sleep would consume me and I could finally have a night of peace. Or that's what I thought. I fell asleep a few minutes after that.

___

I woke up quickly with the alarm, also who wouldn't wake up when they have Momona and Xochitl screaming in their ear. Yes, they made a personalized audio for me to use with an alarm, that's why I love my girls.

I pick up my phone, seeing that its battery is empty, great, I forgot to put it on charge last night. I walk to the bathroom and continue with my standard routine.

On the way to the film set I was finally able to turn on my cell phone to check the news and the thousands of notifications from my friends didn't seem like a good thing...

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Hey darlingsss, this is the first episode of this fanfic, I hope you like it <33 As it is the first chapter, it was a little shorter than the others and more stationary, as it is just to introduce the protagonist to you. I really hope you like it, really do!!!

*Spoiler: The next episode will be from Charlie's point of view.

*Obs: If you couldn't see it correctly, here's the screenshot from Instagram.

Tag list: @siriusblacksgf @idiewhenrhythmgamesdie @taygrls @jules-loves-lukecastellan @lostinhisworld @iludidaefodida @goopoems @lucycarlisleswife @blairfox04

[whoopsie-daisie]

🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Hamilton has closed to the gap to Perez. Only 20 points separate them now.