#but even so. the pain in my heart is still there even if I ignore it from time to time

[dracophile]

So, I think this is a FANTASTIC theory on a lot of levels and very likely in a lot of ways. But I will also say the sin of sloth isn't just laziness. The best way I can describe it is a combination of executive dysfunction stemming from fear and a loss of purpose of self. Yeah, didn't make sense when my teacher tried explaining it either, so let me elaborate as he (a monk at a less strict, open denomination catholic college with a thriving queer alliance. Yeah, I know. It was a class looking at religion in popular old novels like paradise lost and Dante's Inferno).

Most people think of sloth like they're lazy. They slow moving, take no initiative, living in a mess because they won't clean up, hate working, etc. Ask them to do something and they either outright ignore you or act like your causing them physical pain. And that is one side of sloth, but there is another, harsher side. And that is lack of motivation inside, or the wrong motivation.

He gave us an example of someone who is overconfident in themselves and what they've already accomplished, like a boss or manager who rose through the ranks and was once a model employee now just sitting in their office and pushing work onto their subordinates, even work they were supposed to do. They still put in "work" to seem like they're doing what they're supposed to be doing, and kiss up to their own bosses , and is out doing stuff so they're not just some couch potato. They just put in the work doing "fun" stuff to avoid doing the hard work, or taking the easiest route. It's self absorption--how to make your life easiest for you, uncaring of others. Sounds a lot like pride, yeah, but it's more about taking the easy road or easy way out than putting in any actual work anymore or doing a good job.

It could also be someone who may know they're wrong, or may know they're right, but they won't put in the work to prove it out of fear. The example there was someone who got really into art. Loved drawing and painting and thought they were really good. But then someone criticized them or they lost a competition and now they are too scared to to keep going. So they turn away and look for something easier to do. An abandonment of self, he called it. Again, looking for an easier road to a positive than dealing with the negative. Sometimes it just causes a gridlock and people end up not wanting to do anything, just kind of being pushed and pulled around with no self motivation.

In Christian Speak (the monk's actual words), Self-abandonment is "Becoming so caught up in fear that we walk away from the things our heart truly desires and bypass opportunities. This is important to fight against because abandonment of our hearts’ desires impacts the way that we view God. God has placed in each of us an identity and purpose. The moment we start letting those things go, we move away from God and find ourselves in darkness.

Self absorption is falling into these bad habits of avoiding work, this darkness, by believing the bare minimum effort is enough. In this place, we are not walking in thanksgiving for the life God gave us, nor are we truly trying to find our way back."

Many doctors put in the work to become a doctor not to help people, but because they saw it as a way to make money and live a good life. Or maybe it started out with good intentions, but they got tired of the long work hours and exhausting stuff they have to deal with. So once they think they've seen it all, they just diagnose after one visit. They don't listen beyond one point, they just assume its X, prescribe something, and go on to the next thing to get their day done.

Same with cops. Some cops do the bare minimum or take the easy way to try and get the accolades they want. Planting stuff, lying, refusing to look for other suspects because they're sure this one guy is the culprit so why put in more work?

I think this might be part of why they're there as well, but I think you are also right that Belphegor is maybe giving them more energy by sleeping for them. It'd be a fitting punishment that those looking to do easier work have to constantly work after all.

Ok- listen to me on this one.

I find it surprising how the authorities arresting I.M.P. were from the sloth ring (the candles). Considering the fact that sloth = lazy. I’d expect the authorities to be from the wrath or even envy ring.

What if- and this is just a theory..

What if, Belphegor is always sleepy because she sleeps for the sinners and inhabitants of the sloth ring.

Belphegor is a sheep. When you can’t sleep, what do you do? You try to count sheep to try and get some sleep. Maybe, what Belphegor does is to help her subjects, she helps sleep for them and in return her subjects aren’t ever sleepy and always energised to do their work. All the energy she gains from sleeping, she gives it to her people so they dont require to sleep. But of course, this takes a toll on her because now she’s always sleepy.

I know, not alot of proof to go around this theory. But look at this guy,

He looks like some kind of anger therapist for Satan. He’s definitely from the sloth ring (the candle). And look back in S2 E4,

The guys are also from the sloth ring (the candles). Seems like all medicine/drugs comes from the sloth ring. And for a ring where you’re supposed to be demotivated or lazy, they do ALOT of work. From careers such as a therapist or an officer, these jobs require ALOT of energy. Some even time consuming.

And Belphegor seems to sleep ALOT compare to her own sinners/inhabitants in sloth. Thats why it got me thinking, how can her own people do all these jobs and yet Belphegor herself cant get through a trial without falling in and out of sleep? It makes you ponder.. why would she do that to herself?

Maybe because, her ring is at the lowest in the hierarchy. Its isn’t the most deadliest sin like pride or wrath. I also think she fears her ring might fall behind the other rings because her people will be too lazy to get anything done. So to avoid any mockery from the other Deadly Sins, she decides to give them energy by sleeping for them. It doesn’t matter is she’s oversleeping or not present when a meeting is being held, as long as her ring is prosperous, she’s sleeping peacefully.

I feel like the downside to all this is that, the sloth ring is ALWAYS awake. Nobody sleeps which means sinners and inhabitants are always finding something to do. Which is why her ring ends up being the ring with the best medicine/drugs, hospitals and maybe even security service.

[insidekatmind]

Silent Promises~Jonathan Daviss

It was a cool spring evening when Jonathan called you for the second time that week. His calls were always filled with laughter, jokes, and a familiarity that comforted you. But this time, something in his tone made you raise an eyebrow.

"Hey, how are you?" Jonathan asked, and his voice sounded more serious than usual.

"I'm good, thanks," you replied, trying to sound more convincing than you felt. "I just finished doing some interviews for the new album."

"I can imagine," he replied with a light laugh, but it sounded a bit tense. "You know, the song you wrote about Drew... it's really powerful. There's a lot of you in that one."

A shiver ran down your spine. Drew... The man you had loved, but who had betrayed you. Every word of the song Heartbreak Highway spoke of your pain, broken dreams, and the loneliness you had felt after discovering his betrayal. The public had loved it, of course. It had gone viral, like all your most honest songs.

"Yeah... it was hard to write," you admitted, feeling a lump in your throat. "But the best of me came out. I'm glad people can relate to it."

"I'm sure," he said softly. "You're incredible, as always." His voice grew more tender but also more serious. "Listen, I want to talk to you about something..."

A small suspicion crept into your mind. Jonathan had never been afraid to be direct with you. But something felt different today. It was as if he was avoiding telling you something important.

"Sure, tell me everything," you replied, trying to keep your tone normal.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and when Jonathan spoke again, his voice trembled just slightly. "I... I know you're hurting, and I care about you. You know I've always been there for you."

"I know," you said, almost whispering. "And you've always been my rock, Jonathan."

He hesitated again. "I just want you to know that you deserve someone who truly loves you. Not someone who betrays you. Not someone who makes you feel less than you are."

Your heart stopped for a moment. His words seemed so sincere, but there was something deeper, as if he wasn’t just talking about Drew.

"Jonathan..." you whispered, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. "I... I’m not ready for another relationship, not now. Not after what happened."

"I’m not talking about a relationship," he said gently, but with an incredible firmness that struck you. "I'm just saying, I’m here. Always."

You sank into the couch, feeling the weight of his words. You had known him for so long. You’d laughed together, cried together, shared dreams, fears, and hopes. But you had never seen Jonathan in this light. Every word he spoke seemed to carry something more, a feeling you couldn’t fully decipher.

"Jonathan..." you repeated, his name sounded different on your tongue. "I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to think that I’m ignoring how you feel about me."

"I don’t want you to feel obligated," he said quickly, almost in a whisper. "I don’t want to put pressure on you. I just... I just want you to know that I care about you, in a way that goes beyond friendship. I’ve loved you, always."

The world seemed to stop for a moment. Jonathan... loved you? How had you never noticed it before? But at the same time, how could you respond to this revelation when your heart was still broken over Drew?

"Jonathan, I... I don’t know what to say." Your voice trembled, but not out of fear. Out of confusion, out of surprise. "I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to be like Drew... like someone who deceived me."

"You know I’m not like that," he replied, his voice full of sincerity you had never heard before. "And I understand, really. But I just want you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll always be here. I don’t just want to be your best friend. I want to be something more, if one day you want it."

Silence fell heavily between you, and as his words echoed in your head, your heart hammered in your chest. You were lost. Lost in a sea of emotions you didn’t know how to manage.

"Jonathan..." you repeated finally, trying to find the strength to say something you never thought you’d say. "Maybe, in another time, in another life, we could have been more. But right now... I need time."

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it. "I understand. And I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you, if you’re ever ready."

The call ended there, but that silent promise lingered between you. A promise of time, of hope, of a future that would come, or maybe not. But one thing was certain: Jonathan would never just be a friend to you. Something inside you was changing, and maybe, one day, you would look at him with different eyes.

And in the meantime, your song continued to play on the radio, an anthem of heartbreak and rebirth, while Jonathan, from afar, watched you with silent hope.

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — meant to be, or not !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ᯓ★

pairings﹕ rin itoshi x gn!reader

contents﹕ one shot, angst, lovers to strangers, wc: 878, proofread

the last time rin itoshi had kissed you, everything felt like it was falling into place.

the soft pressure of his lips against yours, the heat of his hand on your waist - everything was easy. simple. he'd held you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

but that was months ago.

now, every time you saw him, it felt like a distant memory; like a dream you were desperately trying to hold onto, but one that was slipping through your fingers.

rin had always been distant, even when you were close. his icy demeanor, the way he kept people at arm’s length, was something that had initially drawn you in. he was different, and you were fascinated by his complexity of who he was beneath that cold exterior.

but now, that distance felt unbearable.

you'd tried to reach out to him, to understand what had changed, but he’d been pulling away more and more. no texts. no calls. and when you did see him in person, his eyes would briefly meet yours before shifting away - like he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore.

you had tried to be patient. tried to give him space, but it was eating you up inside.

one evening, after weeks of silence, you found yourself standing in front of his door, your hand hovering over the doorbell. you had no idea what you were going to say, but you couldn’t keep going on like this.

finally, you rang the bell.

it took him a minute to answer, and when he did, he didn’t look surprised.

“y/n,” rin said, his voice as guarded as ever. “i didn’t think you’d come.”

“i needed to see you,” you said, your heart pounding. “i need to understand what’s going on.”

he stepped aside to let you in, but the space between you both felt so much larger than before.

you sat across from him, the silence hanging thick in the air. he was studying you, like he was trying to figure out if you were really there, if you really understood.

“you're still avoiding me,” you said, your voice trembling. “and i don’t know why.”

rin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it's not that simple.”

“then make it simple,” you pleaded, leaning forward. “you're breaking my heart, rinnie. we were… we were good together.”

his eyes softened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a distant look. “i know,” he said quietly. “but i don’t know how to do this anymore.”

your chest tightened. “do what?”

he looked away, the pain in his eyes too much for you to ignore. “be with you. be with anyone. i don’t know what i'm doing anymore.”

you reached for his hand, your touch trembling as you held it. “you don’t have to do it alone, rin. i'm here. i always will be.”

but he pulled away from you, his gaze cold once more. “you don’t get it. i can’t…”

you stopped, the lump in your throat growing. “can't what?”

“can't be what you need me to be,” he muttered, his voice thick with regret.

and in that moment, it hit you. he wasn’t just pulling away because of something that had happened. he was pulling away because he didn’t think he was good enough for you.

he was always so good at being cold and distant, but this? this was something you hadn’t seen coming.

“i never wanted to hurt you,” rin whispered, his voice barely audible. “but i'm not the person you think i am. i'm not good for you, y/n. i never was.”

you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “you're wrong. you're so wrong.”

but he was already standing, walking toward the door.

“please,” you whispered. “don't leave.”

he paused, his hand on the door handle, and for a moment, you thought he was going to turn around.

but he didn’t.

“i'm sorry,” he said, his voice low and broken. “i can’t keep doing this.”

and just like that, he was gone.

you stayed in his apartment for a long time after he left, sitting in the silence, trying to understand what had just happened. trying to make sense of the words he’d said.

but it didn’t make sense.

you couldn’t stop thinking about that night; about the way he’d kissed you like it was the last time, about the way his eyes had looked when he told you he couldn’t be with you anymore.

there was something about it that felt final, and it broke you in a way you couldn’t explain.

as you stood up to leave, you glanced at the door where rin had stood just moments ago. you thought about all the things he never said. about the love he never let himself feel, and the walls he built around his heart to keep everyone out.

you were just another person he couldn’t keep.

and so you left, the echo of his words still ringing in your ears. “i can’t be what you need me to be.”

you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to let go of him. but as the days passed, you learned that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

sometimes, people just weren’t meant to stay.

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[diamonddaze01]

us, again

pairing: ljh x reader genre: angst, vaguely hurt comfort? | wc: 1.3k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: for my 400 follower celebration -> @strxwberry-skiess requested lyrics lab + “until the day we sing together again, my path to you will never end” (us again) // love you rachel, i hope you enjoy!

Jihoon stood frozen at the door of your apartment, his hand lingering on the doorknob, as if somehow he could will the moment to freeze in place. The warmth of the room, which had once been his sanctuary, now felt unfamiliar, too quiet, too still. You had said you needed space, that you both needed time to sort things out, and in his heart, Jihoon had convinced himself that it was just a temporary pause. He could understand it, after all—relationships were complicated, messy even. He had always been a man of logic, of clear thoughts and precise decisions, but now, with your quiet voice echoing the words that seemed so final, his certainty was unraveling, thread by thread.

The apartment felt too small now, the walls pressing in on him as he stood in the space that used to feel like home. Everything was the same—your favorite blanket tossed on the couch, the cup of coffee you never finished on the counter, the books stacked neatly on the shelf. Yet nothing felt the same. The silence between you both had weight, like a third presence in the room, and Jihoon could feel it crushing him, suffocating him in a way that no amount of air could fix.

He didn’t want to turn the handle. He didn’t want to leave, not when everything inside of him screamed that staying was the only thing that made sense. But here you were, standing a few feet away, arms folded tightly across your chest, avoiding his gaze. His heart ached at the sight of you like that—distant, guarded, yet so painfully vulnerable. Jihoon wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and remind you of the quiet moments that had made up the rhythm of your life together. But he knew better. He knew that if he pushed too hard, you’d only pull away further.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, his voice barely louder than the hum of the refrigerator. He was trying to convince both of you, but the words felt like a lie. He wasn’t sure what he meant by them, but it was the only thing he could think to say. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that you were losing him, that somehow this—this break—meant the end.

But you didn’t answer him right away. You just stood there, arms still crossed, eyes downcast as if contemplating something too painful to voice. Jihoon hated that he couldn’t read your expression, hated how far you seemed to be from him, even though he was standing right in front of you.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” you said finally, your voice small, fragile, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him. The words were a whisper, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, but it was only for a brief moment before you looked away again, as if you couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his face.

“I just… I need to figure things out,” you continued, your voice steady now, but there was a crack in it—something Jihoon couldn’t ignore. “I need time, Jihoon. I think we both do.”

The ache in Jihoon’s chest deepened at the sound of your words. He had always thought he understood you, that you both had something unspoken, a connection so strong that it could weather anything. But this… this felt like something he hadn’t prepared for. It felt like an earthquake, a tremor in the foundation of everything they had built, and he didn’t know how to stop the aftershocks from tearing them both apart.

His throat felt tight, constricted by an emotion he couldn’t put into words. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly, betraying the uncertainty he felt. He had to ask, even if he was terrified of the answer.

You nodded, but it was the smallest movement, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him. Jihoon felt something shift in the pit of his stomach—something heavy, like the beginning of a storm. He wanted to reach out to you, to make you understand that he would do anything, anything at all, to make this work. But how could he when you were so determined to step back?

“I’m not going to lose you, am I?” Jihoon whispered, his words barely audible, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear your reply. He didn’t know what it was—desperation, fear, or the quiet realization that you might not be there when he turned around—but it hit him all at once.

You looked at him then, and it was the kind of look that broke him. Not with anger or frustration, but with the quiet understanding that this was something you both had to go through. Something that wasn’t his fault, but was still a result of everything you’d been through. You stepped closer to him, close enough that Jihoon could smell the faint trace of your perfume, the soft scent of your skin, the little things that made you, you.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not really,” you said, and this time, there was a steadiness to your voice that made Jihoon’s heart twist. “But we have to take a step back, Jihoon. We need to figure out who we are outside of this… outside of us. I need to find myself again, and I think you do too.”

Jihoon closed his eyes at the words, as if shutting them out would make it less real. He wanted to scream that you didn’t need to do this, that he was here, ready and waiting to help you find yourself, to find your way back to him. But the words never came. He couldn’t force you to stay. He couldn’t make this decision for you, no matter how much it tore at him.

When he opened his eyes again, you were standing there, close enough that he could feel the heat of your body, but still not close enough to erase the distance that had quietly grown between you both. Your fingers brushed against his arm, a fleeting touch, and for a moment, Jihoon thought it might be enough to make everything go back to the way it had been before. But you didn’t say anything else. The touch was gentle, tender, but so final in its own way.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated, this time more for yourself than for him, as if reminding yourself that this wasn’t goodbye.

Jihoon nodded slowly, his lips parting but no words coming out. He wanted to say something, anything, to keep you close, to hold onto the love that had once felt so easy. But instead, all he could do was whisper, “Until the day we find our way back.”

You didn’t reply right away, but Jihoon saw the way your eyes softened, the way the lines of tension in your face began to fade, if only just for a moment. It wasn’t an answer, not the kind he wanted, but it was enough for now.

He turned slowly, opening the door with a soft click, the cool air of the hallway rushing in. But as he stepped out, as the door closed behind him with a quiet thud, Jihoon didn’t feel like he was leaving you behind. Not completely. Not yet.

The path between you two hadn’t ended. It was just… paused. And no matter how long it took, no matter how far apart you both might grow in this time apart, Jihoon knew—his path to you would never end.

[hoseoksluna]

THE END OF THE WORLD | pjm

pairing: best friend!jimin x f. reader

genre: fluff

rating: 13+

summary: when you thought your period cramps would bring in the end of the world, you didn't realize your feelings for jimin would get reciprocated in the middle of it all.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: reader is on her period; brief mention of period blood, jimin has a cute (non-sexual) fixation on reader's feet, kissing, anxiety, the problematics of heavy thoughts, insecurities and feeling not worthy of good things.

luna's note: this little thing literally came out of nowhere. i started writing this at work on friday when i had severe cramps and i felt soft enough to write a little fluff. where my jimin girls at? i've been heavily fixated on jimin lately, seeking comfort in him, buying pcs from muse photoshoot bc it's my favorite. the jimin i wrote about is an older, buffier jimin with blond hair bc that's my weakness. i hope you like this figment of my imagination and that it makes you as soft as it made me. i love you all, sending kisses mwah.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

@ririkookiemonster, @perfectiondazesworld, @kookienooki, @rrosiitas, @kooloveys

@junecat18 @deepops79 @notsevenwithyou @futuristicenemychaos @psychicjellyfishalpaca

@mar-lo-pap, @perfectiondazesworld @blackswanpt2 @rpwprpwprpwprw

The pain that coursed across your lower tummy felt like the world ending, and your boy friend carried more beauty than a mere mortal could ever achieve. Too bad there was that doomful space between those two words that speak of his role in your life, even though his current position suggests such closeness that those letters could easily melt together. 

Jimin rests the side plane of his face on the middle of your thigh. You repose on the left side of your bed, seemingly bloodless while you exude liters upon liters of the carmine liquid, which makes you wonder how you’re still alive. The wings of your ovaries constrict and constrict, right under his face, reflecting the membrane of his own pair that you’ve watched grow into those of an archangel throughout the trajectory of your life with him. You try to ignore the pain, even as your features twist in helplessness, and instead imagine the colors that could swift through those feathers. 

Pistachio green. Brown that fades into a soft pink. Maybe a little subdued yellow. 

You’ve always thought he was an angel by the way his presence in your day simply made it better. More joyful, more loving, more gentle. But the more you blossomed into adulthood with him, and your frontal lobe developed as well as your unconditional feelings for him, the more you comprehended he was your angel. And not just an ordinary one. 

He was your archangel. 

He would protect you from people that had no space in your life, no luck or love to pepper your nose with. On the packed public transport, he would cover your knees with his hand so no male strangers would touch you with the back of their legs. If a guy came to make a mess out of your life, he would deal with him in a way that would force him to apologize to you and never bother you again. If someone, no matter their gender, caused you sadness in any small or big form, he made sure they regretted it. And, more often than not, your archangel bought you boba. 

You must’ve tried all the flavors from your favorite bubble bar by now. And by all means, crème brûlée was your favorite—only because when you drank it for the first time, you realized that you irrevocably loved the boy with the faux blond hair, pillowy lips, kind heart and confidential tattoos. And when this dawned upon you, it seemed as though Jimin knew—because he blushed and didn’t say anything for a while. The unspoken information, kept safely in the cores of yours and his being, not born into this world. That’s why it’s your favorite. 

It’s the one that is set on your nightstand right now, unopened, with the straw still captive in the translucent foil. It took only one response to his daily how are you text for him to drive to your usual bubble bar on his way to you, and upon seeing the beige peek through the cup, along with the brown sugar syrup, it’s a miracle your knees didn’t give out on you. The fact he chose this drink over all the other ones you love fed your heart the delusions that maybe, just maybe he loved you back. 

That he wasn’t just a kind boy, whose love language was physical touch, and that’s why he’s laying in your lap. 

Maybe, if you did any good in your life, Jimin gazes at you from this lower position while fondling your aching tummy because he feels something deeper than a sympathy for you. 

The pain almost forces you to ask that life-altering question for clarification. Almost. It is on the tip of your tongue, perfect and fluid, breathless and fearless, but you hold it back because Jimin extends one finger and traces patterns on your bloated belly. 

And not just any patterns.

He’s drawing wings. 

His own flutter in the air. Green, brown, pink and yellow. As if he’s giving life to them by drawing a miniature version of them on your clothed skin. And as they flutter, they open and close, open and close. They lift him, leave him hovering above you for a mere second while his hands find a good spot on the mattress outside of the lines of your body, until he settles. His body plops down onto yours, bringing in such heat that you softly gasp and close your eyes at the impact, and you don’t know what to feel, what your hands are doing as they lift, too, and interlock behind his neck, and you don’t know what this is. 

Is this what friends normally do? 

You wouldn’t know. Jimin has been your only boy friend since… forever. And you can’t think properly because the heat penetrating you mingles with your cramps and his body weight messes with your brain, emptying it out until there’s only two sentences that linger. 

One: I love you, Jimin.

Two: We are connected beyond the laws of this world, through strings which are transparent. 

The second sentence only expands, in metaphorical terms, on the first one.

Jimin’s cheek is reddened by his former position in your lap. A circle of soft and wrinkly skin that must be as warm as the rest of him. His blond hair is a bird’s nest, which an entire league of lesser angels must take care of. And his mellow smile gives off such snug light that it reaches his eyes, dissolving there like sparks of a dying fire. 

You love him, and you fail to understand how it has come to be—him laying on top of you. Did you smiling at the cashier in the grocery stop while you paid for your pads earlier get you this blessing? If the world ended in the next minute, you’d be happy, you wouldn’t mind at all because this, this is everything to you. You’re afraid to speak, to break the spell of the moment, and you feign an absolute calmness, not daring to move an inch, despite the fact your internal organs are colored by fireworks that burst and burst as soon as his breathing syncs with yours. 

It’s not that your lungs copied his—his lungs copied yours, and there’s something terribly intimate about that. 

You can’t halt the scarlet tinge rushing through your cheeks, one of the flower-shaped fireworks flung through you. Jimin’s tender eyes fall to them, one by one, and his mouth cracks the tiniest of smiles, as if he, too, held himself back from ruining the moment. The room is saturated with rosiness that feels light, and you wonder how long has it actually been since you’ve put on these rose-colored glasses. 

How strange it is in reality, to love someone without them knowing. 

You’re a slave to things hitting you all of a sudden. You tend to live in a dreamy headspace, walking through life seeking the arts, the poems, the book lines that cut through your heart without any ounce of pity, and when reality infiltrates that fog like the winter’s sun, the rosiness loses its hue. 

Just like right now. 

What are you doing? What is Jimin doing and why is he doing it? It’s not right, it shouldn’t be like this, you haven’t done anything to deserve this. You don’t think smiling at a cashier would make you deserve—

“Is the pain any better?” 

His tender voice percolates into your anxious thoughts like a pyrotechnic with colors inside its throat, the very fireworks inside you, and they meet in the middle of your sternum, connecting, clicking, never to be torn apart—at least not for a while. Their bond erases your fear, making space for a clean frame of mind, and your brain cells focus on your aching lower belly. The pain has lessened due to the heat radiating off Jimin’s body and seeping into yours, you let out a long breath that caresses the shorter pieces of his hair, and your muscles loosen, your senses returning to you. 

You can smell Jimin.

Apple shampoo, the sweet vanilla of his fragrance, laced most delectably with the manly spice of his aftershave. And the savoriness of his natural scent. 

A moment of physical serenity. 

Your fingers twitch behind the nape of his neck, pining to play with his hair. You take a lungful of the whole essence of him, your pining dilating as your instinct begs you to fist the downy material of his cashmere sweater, drag him up and bury your nose in his neck. 

You do none of those things, however. Your fingers keep on twitching, and so you close them into a fist, holding your thumb for comfort, willing the blackness of your thoughts away. 

You nod your head and suddenly, your body does as it pleases. For a reason unknown to you, your free finger taps the center of the back of his neck, and you’re not sure if it was that brief touch that cast such light in his eyes, or whether it was the fact that he’s helping your cramps. 

You wish you’d stop thinking at all. It’s exhausting, fighting and analyzing all the fucking time. You wish you could just live in the moment, experiencing the beauty of your senses quietly without any intrusions of your thoughts, and as Jimin sizes you up with all that light glossing over his irises, it seems as though he knows the ins and outs of your daily struggles. 

You don’t know that he’s been paying attention all this time. A very close one, at that. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, throwing you off balance enough that your eyes widen and the blood in your veins turns cold. The pain in your belly stops at once as all your concentration is fixed on the call-out. “You haven’t touched your favorite boba. You haven’t said a full sentence since I came over and you keep frowning. What’s wrong?” 

His chest lifts and he reaches over to your bedside table, grabbing the drink he spoke of and placing it on your swollen tummy. His teeth rip off the plastic foil over the straw and he plunges it with utmost expertise inside the large cup, setting off the fireworks inside you all over again as if it was New Year’s eve. And maybe it is—maybe Jimin has fast-forwarded the time and given you a chance to make a change in your life, a new year resolution that could make everything better. 

If only you weren’t such a coward—a wolf of bravery in a foolish, timid sheep’s skin. 

But the tears that rush through when Jimin tilts the cup and the straw to your lips while holding it steady, they have the power to clean you off the old and the ostensibly innate structure of your insecurities. And when they roll down your cheeks and Jimin’s mouth parts in abrupt shock molded by compassion, you sense that their power is bigger than you. 

Your lips wrap around the thick straw and suck in the saccharine, creamy delight. It suffuses all of your senses, and once the black, squishy tapioca plops into your mouth, a soothing tendril of joy overwhelms every inch of your being. To such an extent that you begin to bawl. 

And splutter out the contents of your mind. 

“My mind is always running and I’m so tired of it, like I can’t catch up anymore,” you sob, chewing the boba while your tears freely fall. Jimin continues holding the cup and when your hand wraps around his, the other one encloses around your wrist—the gesture propelling you to spill out more. “I’m always analyzing, always thinking if I’m worthy of this and that. If it’s okay, if I should stop, if I should do something or not, if I—” You sigh, not able to find the words to describe what you’re experiencing. Frustration latches onto you, inciting your anger that begins to ooze out of your every pore. “When you were laying down on my lap, all I could think about was—” You stop yourself, slapping your mouth, realizing that you nearly said too much. 

But Jimin knits his brows, and the hand that held your wrist tugs away the limb that halted the flow of your words. “Keep going.” 

Your heart pounds, violently. The moment feels too severe, and yet your mind is oddly… silent. As if the anger that washed over you scrubbed it completely clean—clean enough that you perceive this to be an interruption rather than a saving. Your mouth wants to continue to speak and your heart… it pushes the words up your throat. 

You feel like puking your guts up, although there’s a strange determination prickling the ends of your fingertips. 

You swallow and in the middle of the interlude, Jimin sits up. Sets your boba on the hard surface of your closed laptop nearby. The sudden distance pulls you, as if by a string, to a sitting position as well, and both of you simultaneously criss-cross your legs while your heart threatens to leap out of your esophagus. You’re stomaching the feeling that you’ve done something wrong, which caused him to exit the closeness you were in, and you tense up and nearly tremble with the need to fix it. 

Jimin opens his mouth, about to say something, but you’re quicker. You’re going to give him what he asked you, just so you can have him close again. 

“When you were in my lap, I couldn’t believe it,” you start softly, graced with the attention of his eyes as they flick up to you in surprise. Your nerve endings sizzle, giving you the words to continue, no matter how devastatingly acute this situation is. “I tried to think of all the things I did that made me deserve having you this close, but I came up short every time. I didn’t understand how our closeness happened to begin with and I didn’t think I was worthy of it. Still do. That’s all.” 

You exhale loudly, detecting no heaviness on your chest, but absolute freedom, out of which blades of grass grow, a perfect home for wildflowers. But a cloud extends over it and it begins to rain as you watch Jimin’s natural expression break into a vivid canvas of dolefulness. The eye contact breaks along with it. The faux-blond boy hangs his head low, his long eyelashes flitting, and you think the world is ending right now as you’re taking small, careful breaths, knowing they’re the last ones. 

But Jimin’s forefinger finds your big toe, and he plays with it. Moves it back and forth, fondles it, squeezes it. Makes the last seconds of this life a little more bearable before it collapses over your head. Ponders something unknown, seemingly prolonging this end. And when he’s had enough and he fists all of your toes and looks up at you, it’s not that he stops this finale. 

He snatches you and takes you to the other world.

“I have something to tell you as well,” he says, his voice coated by that sadness and regret his whole energy is permeated with. He blinks rapidly, running his tongue over his bottom lip inside his mouth, gathering courage or perhaps waiting for your full attention because you’re dipping your gaze in and out of the intimacy of the way he’s holding your foot and the nipping graveness of this moment. 

Everything is too much at once.

“I’ve been a fool,” he starts, similarly like you did, biting the bottom lip he moistened as if to punish himself while busying his eyes on your pink toenail. He strokes the lacquer, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve done all of those things and I still do them without telling you the truth, without confessing.” He flicks his eyes up at you from his downward position, elbows propped on his knees, his stature hunched and buffy. Stops the beat of your heart with that brief look as you anticipate his next words. Sighs, the sound loud and heavy, bearing the kind of guilt and affliction that gnaws at the flesh he owns. Your brain turns off and every morsel of your feelings desires to help him, to make him feel better, but the following words that come out his mouth are the last stop to the other world, and everything is born anew. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. Soaked like a puppy in the rain, waiting all alone for your friends to finish flirting with the guys outside of the club in Hongdae. I’ve loved you since that moment because you were just like me. You weren’t in the mood, you didn’t want anyone to talk to you. I’m still surprised you smiled your beautiful smile at me when I waved at you, that you let me talk to you.”

The memory sails before your eyes like a murky cloud. All of your friends standing under the roof, smoking and talking to guys, not leaving any space for you to hide yourself from the rain. Jimin finding you in that crowd, waving at you, perceptibly softening when you waved back and smiled because you felt lonely, overlooked and profoundly depressed and he was the only one who saw you. The memory ends at the scene when Jimin walks towards you, takes off his jacket and holds it over your head while getting soaked himself.

Your cheeks were dry from your tears, but they get stained all over again as new tears begin to pour, your heart tender, beating hard but quietly from his confession. Jimin moves your foot over to his lap, drifting his fingers over it, and the tickling sensation prevents your anxious thoughts from reappearing. You breathe in his words, letting them in, letting the change in, all while you squirm and hushedly giggle from his tickles. 

Strange, strange emotions, towering over you, but they feel right—they feel like heaven, and you think that’s where your archangel has taken you.

He loves you. 

You love him and he loves you back.

He loves you.

“I’m sorry that I confused you. I should’ve told you sooner, but I was… afraid,” he says, boring his eyes into yours, sending out the authenticity, with which he covered his words, and the regret he deeply feels. “I was afraid you were comfortable with us being just friends, but still I couldn’t physically keep my distance. It was a mistake on my part, so again I’m sorry I made you feel this way.” 

Your heart grows and your body is too small to cage it inside, ferocious and wild with all the love it feels for the faux-blond boy. You feel constricted and you rid yourself of the iffy sensation by inching a little closer and enveloping your arms around his shoulders. And this time, you have the freedom to sink your fingers into his chamomile-colored hair. You have the freedom to feel the softness, to hear his quiet, confidential purr of pleasure from your touch, which essentially spurs you on to move a little further upon this trail of freedom. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, too,” you confess, and it’s the easiest thing your mouth ever emitted. No dark thoughts ruin it, but instead you understand that everything Jimin has done for you was through the strings of love that connect you to him. Your delusions weren’t delusions; they were all true conceptions and they were broiling, begging to be let out. “I fell in love with you because of your actions, because of the way you took care of me, because of the way you treated me. No one has ever treated me like you did. You’re a beautiful person with a kind heart—”

Jimin interrupts you with a cry of your name. He yanks you fully into his lap, wrapping your legs around him to make you comfortable, and he embraces you. Tightly, heartfully. You fit into him like petals to disc florets, and you never want to leave. An ardent awareness of safety swallows you whole, especially when he scrunches up your hair and nuzzles his face in your neck, breathing against you so heavily that your entire world spins. 

And then he pulls you away, and asks you the kind of question that deprives you of everything you ever knew, romantically. 

“Can I kiss you? Please, let me kiss you. Jebal.” 

The smile that stretches over your face aches as you vehemently nod and Jimin doesn’t waste a singular second. 

He smashes his mouth against yours, igniting hundreds, if not thousands, of butterflies with a loving fire that they spread across every inch of you. The kiss is deep, and unlike any kiss depicted in any kind of art that you ever longed for. Your mind is gone as soon as Jimin breaks the kiss for a millisecond and goes for another one, seizing your lips, owning them, doing to them whatever he wants. The past world is gone, heaven is in full bloom, with a legion of lesser angels celebrating the kiss of the ending century. The time is gone, too, as both of you kiss until your lips get numb, and the look you give to each other makes those innocent winged creatures cover their eyes in shyness. 

The kissing doesn’t stop there. 

With every turn of the head, with every peck and with every brush of the tongue, it fulfills everything you ever lacked. You forget every poem you learned. The colors of the paintings you liked pale in comparison. And every book scene you envisioned before you went to bed is filled with emptiness. Jimin becomes the center of your new life that stands above the fictional one you so earnestly wanted, and you tell him of it with every kiss you reciprocate.

With words, too, later when you’ve caught your breath and Jimin is spooning you with his hand on your lower belly, occasionally stretching his neck over your shoulder to take a sip of your delicious boba. And you tell him again in your dreams, where the comprehension that you no longer have to live in your headspace in order to be happy and fulfilled unfolds. You make friends with the angels and tell them as well, watching what they do as they run their fingers through his hair, making mental notes, folding them into your heart. 

You do what you learned in the bathroom the following morning, even through the excruciating pain of your cramps. Jimin kisses your feet for it, orders you to rest as he massages them, having brought you some painkillers. And when they take effect and you can function like a normal human being, you note down your first life full of art with him.

And title the first page—“THE END OF THE WORLD, THE BEGINNING OF MINE”.

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist

[vmlnrzmp4]

𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

no cw, just domestic bliss<3 for reference, she's making kheer: a famous south asian dessert. you can call it a pudding. this is me y'all. i think the "banned from kitchen" girlies deserve representation. without further ado, enjoy<3

itoshi sae

"it stings...!" you mumble a complain as sae applies the burn-cream to your thumb and index finger. he calls you a dumbass for even stepping into the kitchen.

"sae," you call softly trying to gain his attention. he ignores, too busy tending your wounds. "sae," you call again. and after a long pause, he hums.

"what?"

"can you atleast taste what i made?"

he looks up at you, blowing air from his mouth to your booboo, the coolness easing the pain a little. "you sure it's not poison?"

"no promises."

he stares at you for a moment. sighing, he reaches for the spoon, taking a bit—just a little bite, "what did you put in this?" he asks, "is this supposed to be salty?"

oh the horror! "what?"

"it's salty."

you take the spoon from him, tasting it too, gagging at the bitterness. "i may or may not have added salt instead of sugar."

"you," he snaps his finger at you, "stay out of the kitchen."

itoshi rin

"hot hot hot!" you say, the burning spoonful of kheer still in your mouth.

"here," rin quickly passes you a bottle of cold water as you wash it down, "don't choke on it." his brows furrow, "is this supposed to be that watery and oily?"

"it's not oil. i used ghee," you say, showing him the container, "it's butter. but fancier." he examines it in his hand, reading the label and notes. you take another gulp of the cold water, "my tongue feels numb now."

he takes a spoonful, seeing how it runs down from the sides like water, "what were you trying to do?"

you sigh. big big sigh as you ramble, "i tried making this. i know i shouldn't even step into the kitchen but, i just felt like yes i can do it like it's the easiest thing i can make cause my cousin made it back in india and she sent me a picture of it and it looked so simple and i—"

"it's fine," he cuts you off, "leave it to me next time."

isagi yoichi

"here you go," you say, placing the bowl in front of him, along with a spoon and a forced smile.

he chuckles nervously, taking the spoon from you, "is this...soup?"

"no!" you correct, "it's kheer, even fancier!"

he hums, taking in a spoonful while you wait expectantly.

he coughs. loudly.

looking up at you he sees the horror in your eyes—he feels guilty as he sees the messy apron, hair that was messily put up in a bun and a little something on your cheek too—you worked hard on it.

"it's...not bad."

you let out the most heart wrenching sigh, "it's ok yo-chan," you plop yourself beside him, your forehead bangs on the table, "you don't need to lie."

"oh y/n..." he reaches for you, soothing your forehead that you just abused on the table, "it's not bad, really. it's just...a little too sweet for my liking. maybe we can fix it together?"

you look at him with puppy-dog eyes, yet fully of hope, "together?"

"together."

michael kaiser

the first thing kaiser does is plant a sweet peck on your cheek as he enters the kitchen, pointing at the apron you wore that says kiss the chef.

"what's cooking?"

you simply point at the cook-book that was open. he raises an eyebrow, then adjusts the glasses resting on his forehead, pushing them down to eye level as he inspects the recipe.

"aaaand all done!" you say happily. but the horror in kaiser's eyes when you were pouring the kheer into a bowl—it was like you were a maniac mixing chemicals to feed the lab rats.

"here," you hand him the spoon, "mihya, i want you to be the first one to try it."

he gulps in fear, "if that's what you want angel..."

aftermath.

he wouldn't stop laughing at you and your poor attempt to stealing a chef's job.

"i'm sorry—" he laughs, "—i'm sorry," more laugher.

"i get it. i can't cook. and i apologize for even thinking i would get appreciated. even if it's a little."

his laughter dies down slowly—still smirking as he hugs you from behind, "hey, i appreciate you loads. even if you made the most disastrous dish imaginable," he pecks your temple, "it's the thought that matters."

[mylovesstuffs]

Jungkook version !

series masterlist

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Jungkook never realized how much he liked you until he saw you laughing with your guy best friend. He thought it was normal to enjoy your company, but when you started ignoring him for your crush, it hit him like a ton of bricks. His heart started to ache, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Jungkook is typically laid-back, but when he gets jealous, it’s a whole other story. At first, he tries to hide it, but his eyes betray him every time you give your best friend attention. He’s quiet, brooding, and the playful smile he normally gives you vanishes.

When he gets jealous, he plays it cool. He’ll act like everything is fine, cracking jokes, but you can feel the cold distance. You’ll notice him staring at you when you’re talking to your guy friend, his jaw clenched slightly. He tries to act like he’s not affected, but it’s so obvious.

Jungkook, feeling hurt and frustrated, starts pulling away from you, convincing himself that maybe it’s better if he keeps his distance. He’s so confused by his feelings—he doesn’t want to complicate your friendship, especially when he knows you see him only as a friend.

One day, Jungkook can’t take it anymore. After another day of watching you laugh with your guy best friend, he snaps at you. His voice isn’t angry, but it’s sharp, and his words are harsher than he intends: "Don’t you have enough time for me, too?" The moment it slips out, he regrets it immediately.

Jungkook pushes you away, even though he doesn’t want to. "Maybe you should spend more time with him," he says, his voice cracking just a little. He doesn’t want to confess yet because he’s terrified you’ll reject him, so he opts to distance himself. He’s trying to protect himself and you from further pain.

He watches you, a mix of guilt and frustration in his eyes as you try to understand what went wrong. He can’t bear the thought of you questioning why he’s being distant, so he stays silent, waiting for you to make the first move.

He HATES the thought of someone else holding your attention like he used to, but he doesn’t want to admit his feelings because of the fear of ruining everything.

After a few days of avoiding you, Jungkook finally breaks. The guilt eats him up inside. He’s heartbroken at the thought of pushing you away, and he knows deep down that he doesn’t want to lose you—at least not like this.

One night, Jungkook finally accepts his feelings. He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, realizing how much he truly cares about you. It’s not just a crush...And the thought of never being with you because he kept hiding his emotions is devastating.

Jungkook decides he can’t do this anymore. He can’t keep pretending like he’s fine when he’s breaking inside. He asks you to meet him, and this time, he doesn’t back down. He doesn’t want to live in regret anymore.

He takes a deep breath and, with his usual shy smile, he confesses. "I’ve been such an idiot... I like you. More than just a friend. I don’t know when it happened, but it did." His words are soft but sincere, and you can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

After confessing, Jungkook waits for you to speak. He’s terrified of rejection, but he can’t stop the words from flowing. His heart is in his throat as he watches you, desperate for your reaction.

You reassure him, gently explaining that you never realized he had feelings for you and that you were simply caught up in your own crush. But now, after hearing his confession, you start to see him in a new light.

Jungkook pulls you into a hug, his arms tight around you, as if holding onto the hope that things are finally right. He buries his face in your hair, his heart still racing from the confession, but the warmth of your embrace gives him the peace he’s been longing for.

After that moment, things begin to change. Jungkook becomes even more attentive to you, but not in a possessive way. He lets you know how much he cares through small gestures—making sure you’re okay, supporting you when you need it, and making you laugh with his goofy adorable side.

The tension between you fades, and instead, there’s a deep understanding between you. He doesn’t have to worry about hiding his feelings anymore because you’ve both found something real. You learn how to balance your friendship and love for each other, and everything falls into place so beautifully.

He surprises you with spontaneous, romantic dates that feel like something out of a dream. Candlelit dinners, quiet walks under the stars, or even silly things like going to an amusement park and holding hands while laughing at the rides. He’ll show off a little on the rides just to impress you, but always makes sure you feel like the center of his world.

Jungkook can’t resist being close to you now. He’ll walk behind you and pull you into his chest just to make you blush. He loves being able to wrap his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. "You look better in my arms," he’ll say with that cocky grin.

Even with his playful attitude, Jungkook is very protective of you. If he notices someone giving you too much attention, he’ll subtly step in and wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "She’s taken, buddy," he’ll say with a smirk, totally owning it. You can feel his warmth, and you know he’s not letting go.

When he kisses you, it’s slow and tender, but there’s a slight, hawt edge to it. It’s as if he’s savoring every moment of having you, exploring your lips like he’s in no rush. His kisses linger, and you can feel his heart beat faster with each one, as if he can’t get enough of you. But when he wants to be playful, he’ll steal quick pecks, teasing you, then backing off just as you reach for him.

Jungkook loves whispering sweet, sexy things in your ear, and he does it often. He’ll murmur especially while you’re in public, just to make you feel special and a little flustered.

He touches you often, but always with intention. Whether it’s brushing your hair out of your face or running his fingers over your hand when you’re sitting next to each other, it’s gentle and soft. But when he’s feeling cocky, his hand will linger a little longer, and you’ll catch him smirking as if he knows exactly how much it makes your heart race.

Jungkook’s compliments go BEYOND surface level. He tells you that you’re not just beautiful, but that you make him want to be a better man. He’ll say, looking deep into your eyes, making you feel like the only person that matters.

There’s something about Jungkook’s presence that feels comforting. When he’s around, everything seems right. Whether it’s cuddling on the couch or just sitting next to you as you both enjoy a quiet moment, he gives you a sense of peace that you didn’t realize you needed until you had it.

Jungkook loves building that slow, lingering tension between you two. He’ll drop subtle comments like, "You look really good tonight," or let his hands brush against yours in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. His confidence is irresistible, but he knows how to push your buttons without going too far. He enjoys the chase, and he loves making you anticipate his every move.

Jungkook’s teasing side is always on full display. He loves making you laugh, but when his eyes catch yours, there’s a depth to them that can make you weak in the knees. His smirks are often paired with a mischievous gleam, and you can never quite figure out if he’s being playful or if he has more intimate plans in mind.

When the two of you finally find that intimacy, Jungkook is gentle and slow. He takes his time, ensuring you’re comfortable and cherished, but there’s a quiet intensity in his actions. His eyes never leave yours, making sure you feel safe and desired. The way he touches you is deliberate and loving, sending sparks through your entire body.

Jungkook isn’t afraid to let down his guard around you, and that vulnerability only makes him even more irresistible. You’ve seen the parts of him no one else has, and he’s opened up to you in ways that make your heart ache with tenderness. The rawness between you two is a beautiful thing, and it makes every kiss, every touch, even more meaningful.

[iiluvtaylorrussell]

ℒ𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝒶 𝓉𝒶𝓉𝓉ℴℴ

ℛ𝒶𝒻ℯ 𝓍 𝓀ℴℴ𝓀 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇

Rafe’s hand was warm on her back as he guided her into the tattoo parlor, a sense of anticipation in the air. She had been talking about getting this tattoo for weeks, but now that it was finally happening, she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. She glanced up at Rafe, his presence a calming force .

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

She shot him a nervous grin. “Of course, I am. It’s just a tattoo. Not like I’m getting another piercing or anything.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a half-smile, but the concern didn’t leave his gaze. He was always protective, always a little overbearing when it came to her.

After the tattoo artist got everything ready . Rafe stayed close, sitting close to her, his hand resting gently on her thigh gently squeezing as the needle started. She flinched at the first sting, but his touch was comforting offering silent support.

“You’re doing great, princess,” he murmured, watching her with an intensity that made her heart flutter, despite the stinging pain.

She let out a soft breath, trying to focus on the sound of his sweet voice more than the sting of the needle. “Thank you baby . I know you think I’m tough, but this really hurts.”

He laughed softly, rubbing his thumb over her thigh . “I think you’re tougher than you let on. But I’m right here not going anywhere . Just breathe and relax.”

The process felt like it took forever, but eventually, it was done. She looked down at the small, delicate tattoo now inked on her side and A soft smile tugged at her lips, but the soreness was already setting in.

“ Your all set ,” the tattoo artist said with a smile, cleaning up the area.

She winced as she stood up from the table .the pain still fresh. Rafe was already there, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her making sure not to accidentally touch the sore skin . He was always so in tune with her, his touch always comforting.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he said softly, placing a kiss to her cheek as he helped out of the chair.

When they finally made it back to Rafe’s place, he immediately pulled her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly and gently . She chuckled, despite the lingering pain. “Rafe, I can walk…”

He ignored her, carrying her to the couch with a soft grin. “I know, but you’re my responsibility today princess.”

She sank into the couch, and Rafe sat beside her, pulling her into his lap gently. He cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek and brushing her curls out of her face . his eyes soft with affection.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent as he looked at her. “Even more so now. You got through that like a champ.”

Rafe brushed his thumb over Angel’s fresh tattoo gently . his gaze soft as he watched her admire it. “I wasn’t sure at first,” he admitted, voice low. “But now… it’s perfect on you.”

Angel looked up, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I could pull it off?”

He laughs , shaking his head. “No, not that. It’s just… you’re already stunning. But seeing this on you… it’s like it’s always been meant to be. You make everything look effortless and so sexy .

Her smile softened, touched by his honesty. “You really think that?”

Rafe kissed her forehead, his voice tender. “I always will. You’re perfect, princess .

She snuggled into his chest, letting the comfort of his presence wash over her. “I’m so glad I have you,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shirt.

His lips brushed over hers in a soft kiss, the sensation gentle but full of warmth. Slowly, his kisses trailed down her jaw, to her neck, his hands softly caressing her sides to comfort her, to take her mind off the soreness.

“I love you, you know that?” Rafe said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he kissed her lips again.

She smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. “I love you too, Rafe.”

[kitsune-kaos]

Personal/

I see the pics and vids in my camer roll of the dogs I’ve worked with who didn’t make it. I can’t watch them long without shutting off my emotions because I can’t handle how fucking sad I am. There are dogs that are just so full of love and can be so sweet and innocent and trust me so much. And I feel powerless to keep them safe. I wish the world was full of kinder, wiser, more patient people who would be able to give my babies the life they deserve. But because the world doesn’t work like that, my sweet angels get their life cut short. The best I can do for them is to be the one to euthanize them, or at least be that during it, so that they leave this plane with someone who loves them at their side as they take their last breath.

I miss their sweet kisses and the way they’d brighten up when they’d see me. I wish I could’ve done more for them.

[malewifemanhunter]

the best time for your brain to bring up that relationship that you fucked up feominally is when you're right in front of a deadline. oh what could have been if he weren't such a fridgit bitch and if i hid more of myself. maybe he would've still loved me. my heart is heavy and my chest feels numb, and my stomach is burning and my head is foggy. i miss him, but only when it's the most inconvenient

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[francesderwent]

one of the weirdest things about *waves hands vaguely in the direction of my relationship* this whole experience. is this time around? there really isn’t a Taylor Swift song that captures it for me.

[natugood]

I have incomprehensible thoughts rn about how many classic American folk songs are kinda fucked up (and many are "sanitized" for modern listening to be less fucked up), and it's wild that we just, teach these songs to children without any context or anything? like, clementine is about a miner's daughter DROWNING TO DEATH as he watches helplessly? Old folks at home is a fucking RACIST AF ass song written by a white dude in the perspective of a slave who has been freed who misses his life on a plantation? when John Henry was sang by miners it often had ad-libbed, graphic lyrics about having sex with women at the end of the work day (as a way to motivate themselves and get them through the hell that was mining in the 1800s), and a lot of our modern versions are just super sanitized? like I get its hard to explain a lot of that shit to kids but like, its often never revisited and those songs are just left as sanitized, incoherent childhood introductions to America when they actually all have great amounts of value and history when put into context!!

[cerberin]

25/11/24

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

*rattling the bars of my cage and screaming*

I WANT TO TAKE CARE OF MY HEALTH I JUST DONT KNOW HOW TO ASK FOR HELP IN A WAY THAT WILL LET ME BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY

[falesten-iw]

Warning: Long Post No one reads long texts anymore, but despite everything I've been through with my country, my family, and recently my son, I need to get this off my chest. It's completely unbelievable to me that so many people still don't understand the background of the genocide in Palestine. What kind of journalists or influencers do we have today? Are they too afraid to report and remind their audiences about the real story behind what's happening now? No, it's not just one year of suffering! It's outrageous how the media consistently ignores what Palestinians have been enduring for decades. Have they, or you, even bothered to look at the statistics of how many Palestinians have been killed by Israel since 1948? How many children have been killed? Who holds the responsibility for what's happening now? I often wonder: what if the situation Palestinians face was applied somewhere else? For example, what if, after World War II, the West had decided that all Jews should have a state in the USA—let’s say Chicago—how would the people of Chicago have reacted? Imagine the people there being driven off the land their families had worked for generations, stripped of their rights, and harassed or persecuted if they resisted. Do international laws simply not apply when ### is involved? Do you know that people in Gaza are killed simply for fun? Yes, for fun! Israeli soldiers have been known to shoot women, children, and even animals on the spot, then walk away. Did you feel the wind when those shots were fired? Or was it too far away for you? Do you understand what death means? Good. Do you know why there are so many Palestinians living in different countries, or maybe even right next door to you, even though they smell like hummus, garlic, za'atar, and other traditional foods? Do you know why your neighbors are Palestinian and not Israeli? It's because we've been forced to flee since 1948. Our cities were erased then, and more are still being erased—through violence, through apartheid laws, through genocide, through different methods. Ilan Pappe, an Israeli historian, wrote a book about hundreds of Palestinian cities that were erased to create the Israel you know today. This isn't a war that started a few days ago or even a year ago—this has been going on since at least 1948. More than 45,000 have been killed in Gaza just in the past year alone. 17 000 of them are children, and 13 000 are women. Do you even know what that means? How it feels to lose your children or part of your family? Are you going to tell us how it feels? Do you have no empathy? Is your heart so closed that you can't see the pain around you? Are you really so blind to the suffering of others? How can you ignore these realities? Do you know that the Israeli military has cut off all electricity and completely halted the import of food, water, fuel, and other necessities? There are no hospitals and no medicines left, and 85% of people in Gaza are living in makeshift tents. Yes, tents—but not like the ones you see in movies. These are handmade from plastic scraps. Do you know that my family is suffering from all of this, and I will lose them in this cold weather if you don't act now? Please help us and donate now!

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

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