#but his shame over what he's become has made him avoid the place like the plague

[withheartsaligned]

a homecoming, of sorts.

[slttygeto]

THINK I FORGOT, HOW TO BE HAPPY.

⤷ what was I made for? | something i’m made for

જ⁀➴ synopsis: after hanging out with Suguru's friends, you head home and can't wait to bury it down like you always do. But when your boyfriend insists on knowing what upset you, the night takes a turn for the worst.

જ⁀➴ word count: 2,8k

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, hurt/no comofrt, angst, fights, suguru is a little mean and says mean shit but reader isn’t any better.

જ⁀➴ note: sorry for the long wait, i'm struggling to work on many things at once. but a huge thank you for showing the first part so much love! it was truly unexpected.

ʚ⁺˖ ⤷ tag list: @error404-tryagain @fiannee @anarosextodo @ayeputita (couldn't tag everyone for some reason, my bad!)

⤷ comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Suguru remembers when he first fell in love with you, how his face felt warm when you wrapped your arms around him and told him to have a safe trip, the little bag of goodies you had prepared for him sitting atop of his suitcase. He remembers pulling you into a deep kiss in the middle of a crowded airport, and he wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, has never been—but something about you caring for him, preparing food for his flight and showing up as he was about to board made his heart leap out of his chest.

Your first I love you to each other was shared when you realized you couldn’t handle being away from each other for longer than a day. You move in together shortly after he returns from his travel.

You don’t remember when you started to feel out of place, but it makes its way up and towards the back of your head like a parasite—your emotions were always too much for anyone to handle. You recently had a breakdown over messing up at work, and you’ve never seen Suguru look more lost than when he tried to comfort you. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern, he looks defeated when you refuse to let him touch or hug you. You were a mess, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

When you do calm down and are finally able to breathe properly, your brain flashes you little moments from your breakdown like a flashback—almost as though to shame and embarrass you for the way you behaved, all while your perfect boyfriend looks defeated at your lack of cooperation. You’re not sure if it is true, you hope that it’s not—but you see Suguru sit at the edge of the bed and bury his face in his hands and he curses under his breath. He looks tired.

It’s because of me.

When Suguru notices that your breakdowns become less frequent, he is convinced that you are slowly working towards getting better, praises and showers you with compliments. This is the Suguru you always want to see, full of life and love and not the one you saw that night.

And so you decide that from now on, Suguru wasn’t made to see you at your lowest.

--

Dinner ends an hour later and you almost run out of the restaurant and towards the car. Suguru is quick to join you, and from the corner of your eyes, you see Gojo standing near his car and his eyes are staring into your soul. You were grateful that he didn’t tell your boyfriend about the bathroom incident. You confided in the male at such a vulnerable moment and you would’ve been pretty upset if he went against your wishes.

You’re as quiet as ever as Suguru starts the car and drives away. You’re mindful of the way you sit not to face Suguru, and decide on letting him pick the songs to play on the way back. And your boyfriend doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re avoiding him like the plague, after all this wasn’t the first time you were eerily quiet on the way back home. But you were wrong.

Suguru watches you as you walk inside your shared apartment and remove your shoes. You’re not wearing any specific expression indicating that you might be upset. After all, you did have a habit of frowning as a resting face. But it feels different as you quietly greet your cat with a head pat, choosing to head to the kitchen first since you knew Suguru would go to the bathroom for a quick shower.

You were avoiding him.

“Did I do something?” Your boyfriend watches as you halt your movements, the glass of water in your hand long forgotten as you stare at him wide eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Huh?”

“You’re avoiding me, did something happen?” Suguru tries to remember the night you spent outside. He has no clear memory of saying or doing something that you might’ve tipped you over the edge, so what was wrong? You were never this quiet.

“I’m fine, Sugu. You didn’t do anything.” The smile you flash him does anything but reassure him. You ignore the frown that sits on his face and you turn around, your back facing him as you try to busy yourself with something—anything, but facing the man you called your boyfriend.

“Then why are you acting so distant?” So he was able to pick up on it. You hoped that he wouldn’t be able to, maybe breaking up with him would be much easier that way. You are quiet as ever as you turn around and walk toward the fridge.

You were distant because Suguru wasn’t supposed to see you like this, he wasn’t supposed to know how much of an insecure mess you were when he was around, how you were desperately trying to get him to fall out of love. You can barely say I love you to him without feeling guilty about it. Did you truly deserve his love? It felt like he was wasting his time on someone as miserable as you.

“I am not distant, just tired.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, you were tired. You wanted to sleep so badly, wanted to drown the lingering thoughts of never feeling enough as Suguru’s girlfriend, but feeling whole and complete when you are yourself outside of your relationship. This was a you problem, and dragging Suguru down with you felt a little unfair.

“You were crying in the restaurant.” Your heart stills at this. “But you lied and said you were fine.”

“Did Satoru—“

“Satoru doesn’t know you better than I do.” His tone is sharp, and you’re taken aback by the harsh way he chooses to address you. Was this about to escalate into something else? You didn’t want it to, you didn’t have the energy to fight back and tell him to choose his tone carefully. You might’ve been the easy-going, kind girlfriend—but you weren’t going to tolerate disrespect from his part.

“You’re right, he doesn’t.” You sound almost defeated, and you put your glass in the sink before wiping your hands on the towel. Suguru stands near the kitchen island, and watches you with cat-like eyes. You were barely looking his way, the dark circles under your eyes prominent despite your effort at covering them up with make-up. When did Suguru start paying less attention to you? Or did you simply never allow him to see you like this, vulnerable and exhausted. His heart aches in his chest.

“So you won’t tell me?” You’re about to walk away when he decides to speak, and you heave out a long sigh when you realize that the night was taking a turn for the worst.

“Tell you what?” You mumble under your breath, and you refuse to meet Suguru’s cold eyes. You can feel them on your skin, they’re intense and trying to read you like a book. Perhaps if you don’t look his way, his stare would feel less intimidating.

“Would you please just stop?” Suguru rests his elbows on his the surface of the kitchen island, burying his face in his hands. “I’m really trying to figure out what’s wrong, and you’re not helping.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to tell you what’s wrong.” Your response comes out almost immediately, and the frustration you’ve been suppressing all night suddenly resurfaces. Months of trying to play it cool, sweeping your insecurities under the rug and hoping that a kiss from Suguru would fix all of your problems, it was all piling up into this huge bubble. And the more persistent your boyfriend was, the harder it was to stay quiet.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?” Suguru’s voice is a little bit louder, and he’s almost in disbelief at your words. You were dating, you slept on the same bed, ate on the same table and cuddled on the same couch. You weren’t a girl he started dating last month, or a person he was testing out the waters with—you weren’t even a potential lifetime partner, but he was almost certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“Because it’s useless to whine to you about shit you don’t need to know. My problems are mine, you don’t have to fix me.” You feel yourself shake a little the more you speak, your heart is beating fast at the realization that this was a conflict—you were creating a conflict and it felt suffocating.

“Fix you—who said I have to fix you?”

“Right, no one did—Suguru, just drop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But I do.” His tone is sharp, and his hands are curled up in fists. His eyes are staring you down the same way he looks at strangers—threatening, cold and mean. You find yourself tearing up and it makes you feel stupid. You started this, you’re the one who doesn’t feel enough in the relationship—you’re the one being mean, and yet a single look from Suguru has you almost bursting into tears? Pathetic. You felt pathetic and weak, and the longer your boyfriend stared at you, the harder it was to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

“Suguru, I don’t want to talk about it.” You try again, and you hope that your voice doesn’t betray and breaks. Tonight has been exhausting enough, and the thought of having to speak up what has been on your mind for months now makes your chest feel incredibly tight.

“You’re being selfish.”

Selfish? You were being selfish?

You stare at Suguru in disbelief and he immediately realizes how badly he must’ve fucked up because the tears start falling down your cheeks almost instantly. You, who has been pushing her feelings to the side for the sake of his happiness, were selfish? You, who can’t even remember the last time you were truly happy about something, were selfish? This is bullshit.

“I’m selfish?” Your chin quivers pathetically, and Suguru is quick to reach a hand towards you to hold you, but you flinch away from his hold, arms wrapped you to give yourself the comfort Suguru wanted to give you.

“I am selfish, me?!” Your voice is getting louder, but you didn’t care. All the frustration, all the sadness and insecurities were all coming up to the surface because of one single comment.

“Baby, I didn’t—“

“Don’t call me that, don’t you fucking dare touch me!” You move away when he attempts to hold you. “I’m selfish because I don’t wanna tell my perfect boyfriend with his perfect personality about my shitty problems. That’s just fucking great, isn’t it?”

The last time Suguru saw you like this was months ago and he doesn’t even realize it until now. All those times where you would brush off something that would normally set you off, give him a tight lipped smile and tell him not to worry.

“Your problems aren’t shitty, you don’t even want to talk about them!”

“Because every time I tried, it felt like I was robbing you of your fucking happiness, Suguru!” Your voice is loud. “Every time I realized that my mood was ruined, I could only think of how you must be fed up with me.”

“But I’m not? I never even said that I was fed up!” Suguru’s body language completely changes, and suddenly he’s not even trying to comfort you. More so understand where all of this was coming from.

“Your face says it all and fuck--” You groan into your face, your cheeks flushed from frustration.

“Oh so now it’s my face?” You raise your head to stare at him. “One moment you’re saying it’s how I behave, but now it’s all in my face?”

“You’re missing the whole point, Suguru—“

“No, I’m not missing anything! You are the one who created this situation, you’re the one who decided to pull away!” Each word feels like a knife being stabbed into your heart. You stare at the man who usually gives you warm, sweet smiles and all of that is replaced with a cold angry look.

“Suguru—“

“Selfish. Yeah, actually I don’t take it back. You are selfish,”

“Stop.” your lips quivers.

“Because if you actually wanted this to work out, you would tell me what’s wrong instead of finding excuses.”

“You’re being mean, Sugu.”  

Your boyfriend groans out of frustration and leans against the kitchen counter. You stand still next to the fridge, tears streaming down your face. You try to stop and wipe them away, but it feels as though you really needed this more than anything.

“I want to take a break.” You say quietly and Suguru’s head snaps up almost immediately.

“What?”

“I want to take a break from this—from you, I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

Instead of giving you a proper reply, Suguru storms out of the kitchen and grabs his jacket and car keys and is out of the house in less than a minute. You are frozen in your spot as you let the words you just uttered out loud sink in, and there’s a sense of guilt. You are pulling away from your relationship, you’re willingly taking a break and not looking back, but does it matter anymore?

This was by far your biggest fight with your boyfriend, and the way he stormed out at the mention of taking a break makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. But not anymore.

You can’t even remember the last time you were happy, and for it to go on for so long was so draining and tiring. You could barely recognize yourself anymore. Your feet take you towards your shared bedroom with Suguru and you start packing some of your stuff. Whether he agrees to the break or not is not important, because you were doing this for yourself. And if Suguru truly cared about you, he would let you do what is best for you.

--

Suguru didn’t know where he was going, he just wanted to get away from you and as soon as possible. The roads are empty, and he isn’t driving recklessly. In fact, he’s probably driving so slowly that it would look suspicious to anyone on the outside.

He parks the car on the side of the road and rests his forehead on the steering wheel. When did it turn into this? When did he become so absorbed in his personal life that he stopped including you or care for you? Suguru doesn’t want to blame himself, but it’s a little difficult. He thought he was living this picture perfect life with you, under one roof with a single pet and future plans ahead of you. But to fuck up this badly and call you selfish simply because you were struggling on your own was horrible.

And to make things worse, he stormed out of the house and left you there all alone. He groans into his hands.

“Fuck.” He wants to fix this. He doesn’t want a break, he doesn’t think that it’s necessary. But you looked serious about it, maybe he could talk you out of it.

He grabs his phone and dials your number, and when it takes a while for you to pick up he just knows that you must’ve been contemplating whether or not you wanted to take the call. Eventually, you do answer.

“I’m sorry,” the line on your side is quiet, so he continues. “I fucked up, I don’t think I should’ve said what I said and—“

“It’s not your fault.” Your nose is stuffed, but Suguru can tell from the tone of your voice that you were tired. “But I need some space, Suguru.”

Some space… So you were considering the break.

“We can work it out, we don’t have to take a break or anything, we can go on a date tomorrow morning and—“

“I called a cab, I’m going back to my place.” You cut him off, and Suguru hears you lock the door to his apartment. “I’m doing this for myself and for us,” Suguru closes his eyes when he realizes that there was truly no hope in talking you out of it.

“Okay… can I still text you?”

“No,” you reply quietly. “I don’t wanna think about you for a while.” He tries not to feel hurt but it’s difficult.

“I understand.” The line goes quiet for a while, and Suguru hears a few sniffles from your side and sighs.

“We’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You wipe a few tears. “I have to go now.”

“I love you.” Suguru waits for a response, and when you take too long to answer, his chest tightens a little.

“Take care, Sugu.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[myseungsunglove]

First Pitch | Ksm

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader 

Warnings: angsty, wrapped in fluff

Word Count:  1.2k

𖠫Summary: Seungmin struggles to understand why his fiance can’t be by his side on one of the most important days of his life. 

✎A/N✎: This has just been floating around in my head since Seungmin threw his first pitch. It’s nothing special, but I’m kind of in love with it. Hope someone out there likes it, if any of you remember that I actually write since it’s been over a month. hides in shame 

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「©  April 11, 2024 by myseungsunglove」

You sit in the car on the drive to the stadium and the mood is somber. Seungmin is nervous about throwing the first pitch of the game between the All Korea team and the LA Dodgers, a team that he has always admired. 

Couple that with the fact that you aren't allowed to be there with him during one of the biggest moments of his life and you could cut the tension in the car with a knife. Seungmin had wanted you by his side for the first pitch and the company had given the both of you a resounding no. You understood why, and at the end of the day, you believe that Seungmin did too, but it didn’t mean that he was happy about it. 

“Explain it to me one more time,” he mutters, interlacing his long fingers with yours as he glares at the back of the manager's head. “Like I’m five.” You know the anger isn’t necessarily directed at your manager, but when Seungmin has his mind set on something that seems logical to him, he just can’t let it go. He is stubborn that way.

The manager sighs audibly from the front seat, his shoulders rising and falling visibly as he turns to face the two of you. 

“Seungmin, we’ve gone over this many times,” he responds patiently, avoiding the discussion altogether. 

“So go over it again,” Seungmin snaps. 

“Seung,” you whisper beside him, squeezing his hand gently. He doesn’t look at you. 

“Please,” he adds for your benefit. 

The manager blinks slowly at him, empathy coupled with patience etched on his face. 

“Y/n would be the only member of SKZ that is here with you when everyone else’s schedules are too busy,” your manager starts. "Frankly, her schedule is too busy to even be here as long as she is."

“Y/n is the only member of SKZ that I’m engaged to, so it makes sense that she’s here,” Seungmin retorts. “I fail to see the issue.” 

The manager sighs heavily. 

“You are well aware that the public doesn’t know that. They don’t even know you’re together. If she is the only one to show up at your first pitch, people will talk. Everyone will speculate. They already do and this will just add fuel to the fire.”

“Let them talk,” Seungmin says with a shrug, his brow set. He’s nothing if not determined. 

“Minnie,” you whisper beside him. His attention is pulled away from the manager, his frustrated puppy eyes turning on you like a weapon. “If I’m the only one here, if people start to talk, this event, this huge opportunity for you becomes about us and what we are. It’s no longer about this awesome opportunity that you are getting,” you tell him. "If even one of the guys could have come too, maybe it would be different, but you know we're preparing for the fanmeeting and a comeback. There is no time." You squeeze his hand gently. "But I made time."

He scowls at you, but it’s soft, as he considers your argument.

“I know,” he relents, looking down at your clasped hands, rubbing over the top of your hand gently. His cheeks puff out in frustration and he blows all the air from them before he speaks again. “But I need you there,” he whines. 

It isn't often that Seungmin admits that he needs anyone. His confession makes your heart clench in your chest. You’ve never seen him this nervous before. Not even when he proposed to you. 

With your free hand, you gently place your palm against his cheek and lift his face so that you are eye to eye. 

“I love you more than the air I breathe, Kim Seungmin,” you tell him. 

He leans in and kisses you. It’s soft and slow, his hands parting from yours so that he can grab your waist and pull you into his arms. When he pulls away a little breathless, you speak again. 

“And I will be there,” you assure him. Your manager turns around to look at you, a slightly concerned look on his face. You scowl back at him, a look that tells him you’ve got this under control and to chill out. “I won’t be right beside you, but I've got a seat right behind the catcher. I’ll have the best seat in the house. I’ll be able to see your pretty face and the best opening pitch anyone has ever seen,” you tell him. 

His forehead falls against yours with a sigh. 

“You’ll arrange for me to meet y/n before the game starts to say goodbye before she heads back to the company? After I’ve thrown the pitch?” he asks. The question directed at your manager. 

“We already have,” he says. 

Seungmin’s big brown boba eyes meet yours and they have softened from the start of the conversation. 

“Okay,” he says, resigned, his hands dancing along your thighs nervously like he still has more to say. “Can I have a minute with my fiancé?” he asks. It's not really a question. You realize that the car has parked in a garage at the stadium. You're in a corner away from prying eyes. With tinted windows, no one would know there was anyone in the car. “Alone,” he emphasizes with a small possessive growl. You can’t help the smirk that slips onto your face. 

Without any pushback, the manager and the driver get out of the car and walk a respectable distance away. 

Seungmin wastes no time pulling you onto his lap so that you are straddling him. You sigh longingly as his hands gently caress your face and pull your lips to his. This kiss is hungry, needy. His soft mouth is insistent as his tongue slips past your lips to taste you. His hands have wandered down your body and up under the back of your shirt, the pads of his fingers dancing along your back as he kisses you breathless. 

“Want to tell them,” he mumbles against your mouth, his breath heavy against your lips. “No more secrets,” he adds, kissing you hard again. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes your throat and the thrill that runs through your body at his words. Seungmin doesn’t want your relationship to be behind closed doors anymore. 

“You want everyone to know?” you ask when you're forced to pull away again, your breath coming in short, quick gasps. 

“Yes,” he answers simply, gazing into your eyes. “I can’t have another big moment like this where you can’t be right there with me,” he confesses. “You’re my everything, Y/N,” he looks at you with glassy boba eyes, the emotions he is feeling threatening to overflow. “I need you.” 

You hold his face in yours and stare into his eyes. 

“We’ll talk to Chan and our manager tonight about how to move forward,” you agree. “Surely they knew this was coming sooner rather than later. We’ve been engaged for nearly six months,” you chuckle softly. 

He smiles brightly at you then and you can’t help but return the gesture. He kisses you quick as you move to get off his lap. 

“Alright, my baseball player Kim Seungmin. You’ve got to get out of here and go show them how kick ass you are,” you tell him, kissing him on the cheek. 

He chuckles shyly, your favorite sound only second to his beautiful voice, as he moves to open the door, his shoulders shaking out his shirt like he does when he gets a little nervous. You love that you can still make him flustered even with a simple compliment.

He holds his hand out for you to grab, pulling you from the car and into his waiting arms where he kisses you once more. 

“One for good luck,” he smiles against your lips. 

“Not that you’ll need it,” you tell him, kissing him slowly. 

“Love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“You better,” you smile up at him. “Cause I’m not going anywhere, Kim Seungmin.”

[sanarsi]

stepfather!reed richards x reader who is also a student of his in the uni PRETTY PLEASE. ANDDDD THEY'RE LIKE DOWN BAD FOR EACH OTHER BUT CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABT IT TYPE OF TENSION AND THEY SNAP BY THE END, LIKE- "I'm sick of pretending I don't love you but I do" SKSKSKSK PLS

Physics in Practice

stepfather!professor!Reed Richards x student!f!Reader

Summary: You accidentally discover that your stepfather has a shameful soft spot for you. Reed has to deal with everything you decide to serve him after that. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is in college, Reed is her professor, so idk, 20y), angst, sexual tension, arguing, friends to family to enemies to lovers trope, STEPFATHER!dom!Reed, pussy eating, unprotected PIV Wordcount: 5,6k An: That was a hot one. Thank you so much for the idea anon! I immediately woke up with the desire to write this. I hope you like it! Music I worked with: Falling to Pieces - Two Feet

Masterlist

For as long as you can remember, Professor Richards was your idol. You did everything to get into the department he headed. You did everything to become his best student.

You always came to extra classes. You always passed all the tests flawlessly. You were always the first to raise your hand to answer his questions.

Reed saw potential in you that no other student had. You were young and smart. You wanted to learn everything he could teach you. There was no better combination than a young mind full of enthusiasm.

That's why after your first year of college, Reed started giving you private lessons. Sometimes at his house, sometimes at yours. And as fate would have it, he and your mother decided to unite their lives through marriage.

Did it hurt? No. You were happy that your mother had found a decent and loving man. And you were even happier to have Reed every day.

You were a happy family. The perfect family.

Until one Saturday night.

You came back way too late from your friend's birthday party. Later than you promised. But all the lights in the house were off. You were relieved to find that your mother was probably asleep already so you would avoid the quarrel.

You slipped into the house as quietly as you could and winced at the click of the lock, which you turned as gently as you could. You took off your purse and coat, hanging everything on the hanger.

Why did everything suddenly make such loud noises?

You carefully took off your shoes placing them perfectly straight next to the men's shoes. How on earth did your stepfather have such big feet? You shook your head in surprise because you had never noticed it before.

You tiptoed through the hallway and up the stairs where you almost fell. Yeah, alcohol stopped being so great when you had to keep your balance.

You stopped at the top when you noticed a streak of light under the bathroom door. Your heart pumped adrenaline into your veins which made the alcohol lose its control over you.

You had to hide and wait. You didn't want your mother to come out of the bathroom just as you were sneaking into your room.

You took a step down the stairs when a muffled groan caught your attention. You glanced towards the door, recognizing that it wasn't your mother in the bathroom. Another groan made you involuntarily step closer to the door. You put your ear to it, frowning as a quiet gasp pierced the silence.

"Fuck yes, baby."

You opened your eyes wider hearing his growl and then you realized what was happening behind that door. You immediately decided to back away but before you could take a single step your heart froze.

“Y/n.”

Your name fell from his lips with a moan of pleasure. You stood staring into the darkness as your world collapsed in a split second. Blood roared in your ears as your legs led you to your room. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it with your full weight.

Finally you were able to catch your breath which almost made you choke. An unfamiliar feeling flooded your entire body as you began to realize what you had witnessed. You covered your mouth with your hand as a groan of terror escaped your throat. Tears of helplessness welled up in your eyes.

He was your stepfather. He was your family. He was your mother’s husband.

So why did your name fall from his lips in the middle of the night behind closed doors?

Why did your name fall from his lips when he came?

What happened that night changed everything. You weren't able to look at him the way you used to. Every time he came closer to you, you tried to pull away. You watched everything he did carefully. Even how he ate his fucking breakfast. You constantly watched his behavior, trying to notice something that could give him away. Anything.

Because maybe you were stupid from the very beginning and didn't see the signs he was giving you? Maybe all his glances hid a second meaning? Maybe all the times your hands touched weren't accidental?

But nothing changed.

It was the same as always.

Normal.

Perfect.

You never again witnessed anything that could indicate that your stepfather had deeper feelings for you.

And that's what made you start provoking him. It started innocently. You started hugging him more, touching him more. You sent him more innocent smiles and giggles. But it didn't work.

So you went further.

More make-up and more flirtatious glances. More sitting in front of books until late at night with him. More accidental thrusts of your hips in his direction. Still nothing.

Several months of hard work didn't work. It made you angry. So you took a different tactic.

First, he caught you smoking cigarettes after class. He didn't say anything to your mother but he forbade you from doing it ever again. Truly fatherly behavior.

Later you started partying more. You spent weekends with friends at the bar than with him explaining the next puzzles from your textbooks. That was the first reaction. Your first serious conversation about whether something was going on in your life. Pathetic.

Then, you started skipping studies. Getting worse test scores and skipping classes. It worried him enough that he started paying more attention to you than before.

You were his best student. You were his future. He wanted you to be even more successful than him in future. But it seemed that you stopped wanting the same.

The atmosphere at home was tense. But only between you two. Your mother still had no idea. She thought you were just growing up and Reed hadn't mentioned what was happening at college so she was really blind in this situation.

That was your problem. Or at least that's what he thought. Your relationship with your mother was still the same. Only something had gone wrong between you two. He didn't know what. He didn't even know when everything started to fall apart. When you stopped being his five-star girl.

Like every morning, you went down to the kitchen all ready to take your breakfast with you.

"Mornin," you said and gave your mother a quick kiss on the cheek, who was frying bacon in a pan. She smiled at you in response and put breakfast on a plate in front of Reed.

You grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter and bit into the red fruit. You leaned back against the counter, staring at the shopping list on the fridge.

Reed was sitting at the kitchen island reading a newspaper and drinking coffee when his gaze fell on you for a moment. He looked down at your body and hid behind the newspaper again.

"You should button your shirt higher," he said indifferently, catching your and your mother's attention. You looked down at your cleavage, just like the woman next to you.

"I like it that way," you replied just as indifferently. Reed closed the newspaper and put it on the counter, looking at you intensely.

The silent fight of glances was interrupted by your mother's voice. "Your dad is right." She smiled gently but you didn't even look at her for a moment.

"He's not my father," you said dryly looking deep into his eyes.

Silence fell over the kitchen. The heavy atmosphere between you was visible to the naked eye. Your mother was in such shock that she didn't even know what to say. But you didn't even give her a chance to, leaving the kitchen.

"We'll be late," you threw casually passing Reed. You started to get dressed making far too aggressive movements.

"I'll talk to her," Reed's muffled voice reached your ears and right after that a kiss on the lips.

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly at the fact that this man was showing feelings to your mother. You didn't know when it started. But you couldn't look at the way the woman's eyes sparkled at the sight of him. You couldn't stand the sight of them together.

For the first few minutes of the journey, there was a tense silence between you. His gaze fell on you every now and then but you were unmoved.

"Will you tell me what's been going on with you lately?" he asked finally breaking the silence. You rolled your eyes hearing the concern and nervousness in his voice.

"Nothing," you mumbled without even looking at him. He glanced at you, clenching his jaw tighter. He stopped the car at a red light and was silent for a moment.

"Is it about studies? Did I push you too hard?" He tried to guess but that only caused you to snort dryly.

"It's not about studies."

"So what?" he asked immediately. The car started moving.

You were silent. What were you supposed to answer him? Definitely not the truth. That's why your silence was prolonged.

Until you felt his hand on your thigh. You tensed under his warm touch and began to stare intensely at his hand.

"Baby girl, you know that-"

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupted him, making him immediately fall silent in shock. “And take your hand away,” you added dryly.

A nervous snort escaped his lips as he obediently withdrew his hand and clenched it far too tightly on the steering wheel.

“Okay,” he nodded as if he himself needed to come to terms with what you had just said to him. “No nicknames or touching.”

You clenched your thighs, feeling a strange current flow between your thighs, and moved as far away from him on the seat as you could. This didn't go unnoticed by him.

He clenched his jaw tighter and his knuckles turned white. Reed didn't know how to approach the whole situation. Your dislike for him had appeared overnight and he honestly had no idea how he should talk to you.

He had never been a father so he decided to talk to you like an adult to an adult. You weren't a child and even less so his daughter.

"Listen," he began seriously, "you're right. I'm not your father." His words caught your attention but you didn't dare look at him. "You don't want me to be? Okay, I won't. But I'm your mother's husband. Like it or not, as long as you live with her, you live with me too. We'll run into each other, eat in the same room and use the same bathroom."

His last words made your pulse quicken and bile rise in your throat. You glanced at him but he was staring stubbornly at the road.

"We'll live together in the same house so we can maintain neutral relations with each other. No rude comments or disgusted looks," he glanced at you expressively and held his gaze on you a little longer than he intended. “If you don’t want to get along with me like we used to, then we can get along for your mother,” he suggested, slowing down the car as you pulled into the parking lot at the university.

“Did we really ever get along?” you muttered under your breath with a snort as he parked the car. Reed frowned, turning off the car.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, but you had already gotten out of the car and slammed the door shutting him off. He leaned out of the car, shouting your name, but you ignored him. You didn't want to look at him any longer, much less talk to him.

For the first time in a long time, you spent a whole day at the university. You were in every class, which gave you a pleasant feeling of nostalgia. Despite the stormy morning, you finished in a good mood.

That's why you decided to even take Professor Richards class, not wanting to give him any more reasons to pick on you.

He didn't even notice you, when you sat down in the last row. He had already gotten used to not seeing your face during his classes. Watching and listening to him lecture, you felt a stab in your stomach.

You remembered the times when you had just met him. How he looked at you with pride when you showed him that you could learn anything. Why did he have to ruin it? Why did he have to plant a strange seed in you, that grew around your body like ivy?

Now, when you looked at him, you felt something strange. Your stomach clenched unpleasantly, making you want to throw up. You knew it was hatred. Or at least that's what you told yourself until his gaze met yours.

He got stuck in the middle of the lecture but quickly regained his composure. He continued to explain the notes on the board but this time he glanced in your direction every now and then.

This time you felt heat in your stomach.

Finally the lecture ended and the students started to leave the room. Some approached professor to ask the last questions, which he quickly answered so he could catch you.

The last students were leaving when your name rang out around the room. Some gathered at you with amusement seeing you roll your eyes. Everyone had noticed that your relationship with your stepfather had recently deteriorated.

The door to the room closed so only then you turn to him.

"What?" you asked casually frowning.

"I think we need to talk," he announced crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I don't really-"

"Sit down," he ordered seriously nodding towards the nearest bench. You clenched your jaw tightly maintaining eye contact with him for as long as possible. But this time he won.

You sighed heavily and threw your bag on the ground then sat down on the bench. He didn't comment on your childish behavior and slowly walked towards you.

"We'll talk like adults now," he began seriously. You wanted to roll your eyes but you held back.

He stopped in front of you, looking at you intensely as if he was trying to find the answer to his questions in your eyes. But apart from dislike for himself, he found nothing. He sighed heavily and rubbed his face with his hand.

"What happened?" he asked directly. You opened your mouth to answer but he interrupted you. "What went wrong between us?" He looked at you with a strange pain in his eyes. You fell silent. You couldn't answer his question.

"Nothing." A typical answer he'd heard from you a few hundred times. Nothing. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fucking fine.

"Nothing," he repeated, nodding.

He was silent for a moment but suddenly his face became serious.

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?"

Your whole body tensed up hearing the tone he'd never used with you before. He was furious. He'd never been angry at you before. Well, he had been, but not like this.

"I asked you a question."

“No,” you denied obediently.

“So what’s the problem? What did I do wrong to make you treat me like your enemy?” he asked, spreading his hands helplessly. You swallowed the lump in your throat seeing him in such a state.

Helplessness.

“What did I do to make you not want to spend time with me? Don’t want me close?”

You clenched your thighs tighter feeling those strange waves of electricity again.

"Nothing."

"Don't fucking lie!" he shouted. You looked at him in shock feeling all your muscles tense painfully.

He shouted at you.

He was so broken that he shouted.

"Answer me why you don't want me anymore," he added more quietly.

You blinked a few times feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

"I…" you started in shock but quickly shook yourself off frowning. "What?"

Reed was breathing heavily trying to calm the emotions boiling inside him. And only when he saw your face, he realize, he had said a few too many words.

He fell silent trying to find a logical explanation for his words.

"I..."

"Is that why you said my name back then?" you asked mindlessly.

And then you both fell silent staring at each other.

Shock, surprise and then understanding flashed across your faces.

Your breathing quickened when you realized that you were right. You had been blind from the very beginning.

"How long have you known?" he asked in a low voice that sent cold shivers down your spine. His jaw clenched tightly as he finally got the answer to why you had changed so much lately.

You knew.

And you hated him for it.

“A few months,” you admitted honestly because you saw no reason to lie anymore. Everything was out. All the thoughts that had been swirling in your head for so long finally straightened out like a thread.

His gaze was heavy as he nodded in understanding. He took a few steps back, running his hand anxiously over his stubble. He snorted nervously, looking around the lecture hall.

You watched him closely as he began to pace until he was standing by his desk. He snorted again, shaking his head.

“Fuck!” he shouted, throwing all his things to the floor. You flinched at his sudden outburst. His shoulders rose quickly as he tried to calm down.

“Why-” your voice trembled, so you swallowed hard. “Why did you marry my mother?” you asked uncertainly. He glanced at you over his shoulder and remained silent. You really wanted this to turn out to be some unfunny joke.

But his gaze wasn’t fake.

His helpless snort wasn’t fake.

“Because you were too young for me,” he replied with contempt for himself.

He looked away from you, leaving you with your heart in your throat. Your breathing quickened so much that you felt like you were about to have a panic attack. You jumped off the bench on shaky legs that almost gave way under you. You grabbed your bag and practically ran out of his lecture hall. And he just watched as the door closed on you and sighed heavily.

That day your private hell began.

A whole month passed. There was a strange atmosphere in the house and even your mother felt it. But she didn't say anything.

You stopped arguing with her husband and became more than obedient again. But this time you were also silent, scared.

You ate Sunday dinners with a trembling hand and then you ended up in the toilet throwing up everything. You went to university with him but you sat in the back seat staring stubbornly at the view outside the window. You sat locked in your room from the moment you crossed the threshold of the house. You didn't even want to go to the toilet, just so you wouldn't fall on him.

You felt like you were in a cage with no way out. You spent almost every night thinking about everything that had happened. About who Reed Richards really was.

And you were disgusted by the conclusions you came to.

Because the only conclusion you took from it was his name, which you moaned every time you came.

And it wasn't as shocking as the way you started looking at him. You replayed in your mind all the moments when you were alone. The way he smiled at you. The way he praised you. The way he inhaled your scent when he cuddled up to you.

And suddenly you started looking at everything differently. Everything started to have a different meaning. Everything he did, started to have a romantic basis.

The way he looked at your lips just to kiss your mother.

The way he looked at you with delight just to compliment your mother.

The way he spent half the night with you and books just to go fuck your mother.

Your view of him changed dramatically. And only during his lectures, you allow yourself to look at him shamelessly. You didn't take your eyes off him for even a second. Your notebook was lying on the desk without a single sentence written on it. And he didn't miss your burning gaze.

The entire lecture he tried not to look in your direction but he couldn't help himself when all the students were focused on taking notes and only you were sitting with your head held high. Then and only then, he allowed himself to just stand there and look at you.

Thousands of unspoken words flew between you in that short moment. And Reed saw the way you looked at him changed. The sparks that flew between you couldn't hide.

So every day he woke up hoping that maybe he hadn't destroyed everything. That maybe you had decided to understand him.

Until finally one day everything went back to normal.

You started laughing in his company again. You started spending movie nights with them again. You were able to talk to him over dinner again. But only when your mother was around.

When you were alone, you were silent. You didn't even look in his direction. It made him realize that nothing had really changed. You had simply decided to act normal around your mother.

He respected that. He didn't try to force you to be able to even look at him again.

Not until you were back in that damned lecture hall.

Then everything ceased to exist. The world and problems outside of the university ceased to matter.

There were just you two.

A young and talented student and her professor.

But a few months in this mode were starting to take their toll on his psyche. He couldn't stop looking at you more and more often. He barely took his eyes off you during dinners. He deliberately dismantled the back seats in the car so you could sit next to him again. He even started to miss your rude teasing.

It all took its toll on him so much that when you stared at each other during lectures, his cock quivered in his pants.

Every time.

And every time he ended up in the bathroom, releasing tension.

He couldn't even remember the last time he had sex with your mother. Luckily, she was going through menopause, so she didn't even notice.

Your life turned into the worst possible game. And there were no winners in it. You both always ended up moaning each other’s name.

Until the day came when your mother went to visit her family for a few days. Leaving you two alone.

And that was the beginning of the end of everything.

All it took was for the door to slam shut behind her back.

“Can you explain to me what we're doing?" Reed asked immediately as you poured yourself a glass of juice. You looked up at him and snorted, rolling your eyes.

"I'm going to make dinner. And you? I don't know," you shrugged, which only frustrated him more. He was sick of this cat and mouse game you were playing.

"I'm fucking serious," he said, entering the kitchen with a confident step. You watched this, sensing an increasing threat.

"I like you like that the most," you mumbled and put the juice in the fridge. His hand tightened on your arm as you tried to leave. You looked at him, frowning. There was something about him that you hadn't seen before. He was hellishly determined and frustrated.

"I've had enough of all this bullshit."

"Then divorce my mother." You shrugged embracingly, to which he frowned, his gaze wandering into your eyes.

"Is that what you want?" he asked seriously. "Do you want me to divorce her for you?"

There was silence. Your heart was beating so loudly that you both probably heard it.

"What? No," you denied and yanked your arm away from him.

"So what do you want? What do I do?" he asked desperately. You didn't know. You didn't know what you wanted from him. You got used to how everything looked between you two.

"I don't want anything from you."

"Don't lie to me."

You fell silent, staring at him. He was on the verge of a breakdown. These past few months had destroyed him more than he wanted to admit. Your closeness was starting to wear him down, and the lack of - killing him.

So in the end it turned out that he was the one who was in a losing position.

"Fuck, please, baby," he groaned, approaching you and placing his hands on your cheeks. You blinked a few times as he bent down to the height of your face.

He was walking on thin ice, and honestly, on the lack of it. He was drowning.

"What should I do? Tell me and I will," he said desperately. And in that moment you could use all of his weaknesses. If you wanted, you could do anything with him.

You could break him.

"I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of you not saying a word to me. I'm tired of not being able to touch you. I am sick of not being able to show you that I love you."

Your heart sank. You stared at him in shock. At the desire and regret with which his eyes stared into yours.

But you remained silent. You were unable to think straight, much less respond to his confession.

"Please, from the very beginning there was only you. I thought it would pass. I thought it was a temporary desire. That you're just a fantasy," he continued, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. "But you're real. You're the realest thing in this whole world," he smiled helplessly and you still stood there in too much shock.

This wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"So tell me what you want. I'll divorce your mother. I'll take you away from here. Just say the word and I'll do it."

Your breath hitched as you finally decided to answer. But then the sound of the door opening echoed through the house.

Reed pulled away from you in a split second and you immediately reached for your juice, drinking half the glass in one go.

Your mother entered the kitchen with a wide smile.

"I forgot the cake," she said amused and reached into the oven for the tray with the chocolate cake. Without looking in your direction she headed for the exit again. "Bye, I love you!" she shouted before the door slammed shut behind her.

You put the glass down with a bang and began to breathe deeply as your mother pulled out of the driveway.

It took a second for your eyes to meet again. And even less for Reed to be by your side again, pressing his lips tightly to yours.

You moaned in shock when he pressed you against the counter with his body. His hands immediately tightened around your waist, sending shivers down your spine. His lips kissed yours hard and almost aggressively. But you kept up with him without a problem.

Because you were just as thirsty as he was.

Even though it was so fucking wrong.

Even though you cursed yourself for it in your mind every day for the past few months.

This was what you dreamed about at night. These were the lips that kissed your heated body. These were the hands that explored every inch of your skin.

That's why you submitted to him without protest. His moans of pleasure mixed with relief carried waves of electricity. You intertwined your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. You moaned when he pushed his hips towards you and his tongue immediately intertwined with yours.

Without waiting, he grabbed you for your thighs and pulled you up so you sat on the counter. He was immediately between your legs, tightening his fingers on your thighs. You sighed into his mouth when his hands slowly started to move up to your shorts. His fingers crept under the material and tightened on your hips. He moaned feeling your delicate skin.

"Let me and I'll do anything with you," he breathed into your mouth. He didn't have to repeat it twice.

"Yes," you nodded without hesitation, to which he moaned with pleasure.

That was enough for him to pull away from you and, not so gently, pull down your shorts along with your panties. You barely took a breath as he knelt down in front of you, pulling your hips closer to his face.

You looked down with parted lips when his gaze met yours and his tongue ran from your wet hole to your clit, on which he sucked. You moaned, tilting your head back and involuntarily spreading your legs wider.

He groaned with pleasure, licking your arousal and kissing your clit passionately until your legs began to tremble. You squealed, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling hard, causing him to growl. He bit your sensitive spot gently in retaliation until your vision went dark.

"You're so fucking delicious."

You moaned in response only to come in his mouth a moment later. You began to pulse on his tongue as it continued to work, prolonging your orgasm and licking up everything that came out of you.

You were breathing heavily when he pulled away from you and wiped the moisture that was left on his stubble with his thumb. You looked at him not being able to think straight but you didn't have to, because he was already pressing his lips to yours. He tasted like you.

His kisses had taken up all your attention from what he was doing with his pants. It was only when you felt something soft and warm right at your entrance that you woke up. His moan died in your mouth when he slowly pressed the tip of his cock into you.

"You feel better than I dreamed," he whispered sliding deeper into your pussy.

A broken moan left your throat when he pushed his hips all the way in.

"So tight and warm," he purred with pleasure and kissed your neck. He tightened his fingers on your skin and slowly started moving his hips. He didn't even pull out of you halfway, not wanting to leave your insides.

Your moans echoed throughout the house. You wrapped your arms around his neck and supported yourself with your other hand on the counter behind your back. His cock entered slowly but firmly until the very end, taking away your ability to breathe.

"Tell me, baby, is this how you imagined it when you touched yourself at night?" he whispered into your neck and then left a mark of his teeth on it.

"No," you moaned which was met with his harder bite.

"And how?" he growled, tightening his fingers and thrusting harder into your pussy. You almost screamed, throwing your head back.

"I thought you'd be more gentle," you gasped and he just laughed into your neck and straightened up. He smiled, panting heavily when you locked eyes.

"Yeah, your mother said so too," he said and not giving you a chance to react, he sped up his hips.

Moan died in your throat as he thrust into you like madman, taking away the feeling in your legs. He watched with satisfaction as the overwhelming pleasure painted across your face. You felt your orgasm approaching with each thrust of his hips. His cock brushed perfectly against the spot that was hidden from your reach.

"Come on baby," he growled thrusting into you over and over again. "Give it to me," he began to pant heavily feeling like he had to hold back so he wouldn't come himself as you began to tighten around him. "Yes, yes, just like that," he praised you with a smile as you watched him helplessly until finally the orgasm took over your body. You moaned loudly clenching painfully on him and then his brakes gave out. He stopped, coming inside you, moaning every time another wave of cum flew out of his cock.

He rested his head on your shoulder, panting heavily as you continued to moan quietly from your slowly receding orgasm. His lips found their way to your neck, planting a series of wet, delicate kisses until he reached your lips. Your tongues immediately joined in a lazy kiss as you both continued to calm your pounding hearts. His hand found its way to your jaw and his thumb gently stroked your cheek.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly. You pressed your lips into a line and shook your head in denial.

"I can't hurt mom," you said in a whisper.

Reed sighed, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. He was silent for a moment, tangling his fingers in your hair.

"You'll finish your studies," he began, looking at you. "And then I'll take you out of here," he assured you seriously.

You looked into his eyes uncertainly.

"Have you ever been to Europe?" he asked with a smile on his face. You pressed your lips together tighter as his smile began to infect you and shook your head in denial. “So Europe,” he nodded and captured your lips in a deep kiss again.

[galedekarios]

gale & his mother, morena dekarios

i thought it'd be nice to have a place to compile everything i could find about gale's mother, morena dekarios.

the first time you as the player get a vague mention about gale's parents is after saving mirkon, when gale brings up a story about his parents denying him a kitten when he was still a child:

Gale: One time my parents denied me akitten, so I summoned myself a tressym.

if you play a gale origin playthrough, you get a mention of her much earlier from tara, after she joins the camp.

this is a camp dialogue with its variants from act i:

Tara the Tressym: Well, if it isn't my favourite fellow himself. Player: How are things back in Waterdeep? Tara the Tressym: More or less the same - though news of some mad faction calling themselves 'Absolutists' is starting to trickle in. Tara the Tressym: I told your mother not to worry. That if they were anything to worry about, Baldur's Gate would handle things quick-sharp. Keep them from spreading their tendrils north. She still wants to know when she'll see you again, sir. I avoid giving any answers. But she misses you. Player: I miss her too. Tara the Tressym: I'll tell her. With my Cat Flap of Displacement, I can afford the occasional visit. I'd bring you along, if I could. Perhaps some day. - Player: I can't risk putting her in danger. Tara the Tressym: I know that, but she doesn't. She'd keel over if she knew just how you'd tried to manipulate the Weave. Or maybe she'd just say something like, 'My Gale always was one to make the impossible possible.' Oh, but she adores you. - Player: No more guilt trips, Tara. Please. Tara the Tressym: But then whatever will we talk about? Anyhow - I'm keeping my senses pricked for any sign of another item that might be of use to you. Hopefully something will turn up soon.

it's clear from the dialogue that gale's mother worries about him and loves him - adores him, really.

it also becomes clear that she doesn't know what happened to gale and that he nor tara has not told her.

another mention from act i, again from tara:

Tara the Tressym: Please tell me you've at least made inroads when it comes to finding someone to settle down with. Myself and Mrs Dekarios are starting to think you intend to die alone. Player: You've been visiting my mother? Tara the Tressym: Naturally. After you abandoned her, there was only me left to keep her company. She's very good company, though. Ah, the stories we've traded over toast and tea. You're a highly entertaining source of speculation. But speculation only goes so far! Tell me, Mr Dekarios - how have you been?

tara and morena are implied to have tea together regularly enough to trade stories about gale. tara is implied to be a sort of messenger between the two of them, likely after gale's isolation and subsequent abduction by the nautiloid, keeping morena informed, yet without revealing gale's secret and shame.

the devnotes also state that tara loves morena - high praise since other devnotes states that tara hates everyone except gale - and that she talks of her in an affectionate tone.

this is a dialogue in act ii after mystra has tasked gale to use the orb the moment he finds the heart of the absolute:

Tara the Tressym: Promise me, Gale. Promise me you'll find another way. Promise me you'll return home, when this is all over. Player: I can't make that promise, Tara. Tara the Tressym: You're going to kill me. And your mother. And then there'll be no one to mourn you when you've wasted yourself for no good reason at all.

i find it very interesting here in terms of other relationships that tara explicitly says that there will be no one to mourn gale except morena and her should he heed mystra's instructions and sacrifice himself. it speaks of the bond between tara, morena and gale - but also even more of gale's isolation and loneliness. we know from tara that she considers herself to be gale's only old friend and gale echoes as much. we also know that gale describes the dekarios family as the dekarios clan, that is "scattered" far and wide.

at the same time, the loud silence about gale's father becomes really apparent again. a while ago, i speculated about gale's father and i truly do still think that he abandoned morena and gale.

another snippet from an act ii convo, before gale reveals the details of elminster's letter to tara (or chosing to keep it to himself):

Tara the Tressym: I'm not one to pry. I'd rather make up all the juicy details myself over tea with your mother.

which again ties in with a similar line from act i, further cementing the fact that this is a regular thing between tara and morena.

still in act ii, tara says this if gale asks her if she'll still love him if he is a mindflayer:

Player: Will you love me when I'm a mind flayer? Tara the Tressym: Depends. Are mind flayers warm-blooded? If so, my prize napping spot on your lap won't be compromised. In which case, I suppose we could find an accord. And, of course, your mother would still think you a prince, no matter how many tentacles you had. And with a nautiloid, you may even manage to visit her more often.

again, gale's mother truly adores him. tara is utterly convinced she'd love him even if he'd turn into a mind flayer. at the same time, the dialogue again hammers home the fact that gale's been keeping his distance from his mother after he has acquired the orb.

the following lines are a compilation of some of tara's lines from act iii, all once again stating that she is a messenger between gale and morena, keeping morena informed about gale's well-being, while also looking after morena in gale's absence from waterdeep:

Tara the Tressym: You're almost at the end of this, Gale. You're nearly there. And not a moment too soon. Myself, I must away to Waterdeep. Your mother will be worried silly not to have heard from either of us - and now I can bring her the good news. When this is all over I'll be waiting for you, with a crackling fire and good book at the ready. Good luck, darling. - Tara the Tressym: I'm well past due to return to Waterdeep. I'm going to tell your mother that you'll be home soon. Don't make a liar of me, darling. - Tara the Tressym: I'll have to make up some good news for your dear mother, then. I'm going home, Gale. To look after Mrs Dekarios, and to remind you that there are people waiting for you in Waterdeep.

going back to companion gale, the next mention of gale's mother after saving mirkon, is from gale in an ambient with karlach:

Gale: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep? Karlach: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say... a long way away.devnote Gale: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter - what she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

it echoes the lines of dialogue that origin gale has, believing he endangers his mother with his condition and thus keeping his distance.

gale mentions his mother in an act iii dialogue after meeting tara on the rooftop of the open hand temple:

Gale: My tower in Waterdeep boasts an excellent kitchen and a wine cellar to rival Ondal himself. Not to mention a larder stocked with my homemade hundur sauce. Player: Hundur sauce? Gale: A Waterdhavian delicacy, spiced to leave exactly the right amount of heat lingering on the tongue, and served with that most sharp-toothed of aquarian residents, the quipper fish. I make it to my mother's recipe. It packs quite a wallop. As does she.

we know that gale's the designated camp cook from a conversation with wyll, and i think the conversation makes it fair to assume that gale's mother taught him how to cook.

still, maybe it's because i'm not a native english speaker and i might be missing some cultural context here, but the line "it packs quite a wallop. as does she." stuck out to me:

wallop. to hit something / someone hard.

this could mean that gale's seen her hit someone and packing quite a punch behind it. with what's been described of morena so far, i doubt it's because gale's ever been on the receiving end of that.

or perhaps it's less literal and more in relation to her seemingly larger than life personality that gale also hints at later, describing his mother as "intimitable" and "sometimes unavoidable". this description is from the following conversation that is currently sadly still bugged:

Player: So your last name is Dekarios? Gale: It is. Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. It's been so long since I've used it. 'Gale Dekarios' cut a poor figure next to the wizard prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. Player: Gale Dekarios... I think I like him more. Gale: You like to many things about me I'd have sooner discarded... Your generosity is quite wonderful. Gale Dekarios likes you too. Very, very much. Though let's keep his exitence between ourselves for now. - Player: Doesn't your matter mind? Gale: Oh, she's happy if I'm happy. Morena couldn't care one jot what I call myself. Tara's the real stickler for using it. Has done since I summoned her. I'd prefer you not follow her exmaple, if that's all the same to you. 'Gale' is more than sufficient. - Player: You're right. Just 'Gale is better. Gale: I agree. And on the plus side, if I get myself into any truly cataclystic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

i love this banter so much and it makes me very sad that larian still hasn't fixed the issue of it not triggering. there's so much lore to explore here:

from gale dropping 'dekarios' in favour of 'of waterdeep', at first, to appear perhaps more grandiose, more suited to the ambitions he held when he was younger, to morena, apparently, not minding it, yet tara clinging to 'dekarios' (perhaps to keep gale's feet on solid ground as much as she could), to finally finding out that the reason that the gale we meet now is not using 'dekarios' still is because he doesn't wish to tarnish his family name should he indeed fall victim to the orb.

the last mention gale makes of his mother is during his act iii post final battle dialogue, in which he proposes to the player:

Gale: That being said, I wondered if you might consider accompanying me back to Waterdeep as a new member of the Dekarios clan? Player: Are you asking me to marry you? Gale: I suppose I am. Tara would be delighted. Not to mention my mother. But I'd be just as happy without such ceremony, so long as we're together.

this again mirrors what tara has been saying in her dialogue with an origin gale in act i: that morena and her were hoping he would find someone to find happiness with.

i think overall, even with only the very few bits and pieces we learn of morena, it's easy to tell that she truly loves and adores and cares her son, and that that love and care is clearly echoed back from gale to morena.

still, or perhaps more likely because of that love, gale keeps his secrets and his distance to morena because of the orb and the shame he feels he brought to his family.

it's all too easy to imagine that he wishes her to be proud of him and that he feels he has disappointed her and given her little reason to be proud of him in the same vein that he feels he has done with tara:

Gale: She'd [Tara] be most impressed by our efforts saving these tieflings. Proud, even. And I've given her little to be proud of recently.

anyhow, i hope i caught all mentions and that this was helpful to someone. 🖤

[mudandmire]

Contrasts

Azris Week - Day One: Contrasts

~~~ Hello hello! I found the Azris ship and the community this year and have absolutely been consumed by it. I love this idea, I love these two characters, and I love that there's so much potential between them and for them to feed and inspire such a wonderful community. I've never participated in the acotar fandom apart from this, and I'm so excited! Thank you so much to @azrisweek for putting together this event, I have had so much fun letting my brain run free like a dog off a leash with these prompts :D ~~~

Tell me

Azriel calls him tatlım, and Eris doesn’t know what it means.

It’s a secret, he supposes he can accept it—relate to it. Nooks and hidden corners itch and snarl with the weight of his own. An enchanted drawer he keeps in the washroom holds his greatest wonder and his greatest shame.

The journal weighs heavy in Eris’s mind. He traces back the parchment pages with intangible fingers during lulls in his father’s council meetings. The drone of bees, lazy and fat in the afternoon sun becomes the hushed whisper of a canyon gale through dried grass. The lines he inks, stroke by stroke, Azriel matches in full, thrumming strides. Words next to his are clean, unbroken, while Azriel’s remain thick, written in charcoal with smudges at the corners from where his fist has run over the line.

When it’s dark, a time when even shadows cannot creep and loom larger, Eris presses his own fingertips to those words. The smears of charcoal because Azriel had told him early on in their budding friendship when they were young that he can’t use quills.

“They're too thin, my hands shake too much.” A smaller version of Azriel speaks the memory into his mind. The whorls and pockmarks on his hands hidden between the gap of his thighs.

Eris had taken it as a challenge—and now he revels in it. Azriel is messy with his charcoal pencil, too free with his mistakes and smudges and it leaves Eris half a country away and entirely breathless.

‘Tell me what bothers you, tatlım.’ Azriel had written him earlier, the familiar scrawl of his heavy hand appearing stroke by stroke in the filled pages of Eris’s enchanted journal.

Two were made, Eris gave one away. He could not bring himself to regret it even if his life were on the line.

‘Tatlım?’ Eris had asked, his letters looped and coiled together in the way they get when he rushes, when he needs answers.

There was no sound save for Eris’s own steady pulse, the whistle of air through his nose as he waited for a response. And yet he could’ve swore he heard Azriel’s laugh, the breathy one, brush against the point of his ear.

The words appear in the space between one breath and the next: ‘Maybe one day, gach’lilit, I will tell you. For now, stop avoiding my prying.’

Eris places a hand on the rise of his chest. Holding in something that seems to be rising from his stomach to his throat and lands gently on his tongue like the orange and black patterned butterflies in the garden.

‘Tell me now,’ he begs, ‘and I will tell you whatever you wish, Azriel.’

‘Come back to visit me, sweetheart. That’s all I ask.’

It had formed a pause in their effortless back and forth. Eris wanted to—Azriel knew that. No, the issue wasn’t in Azriel’s plea, he knew just how much Eris longed for the little village in the Illyrian steppes. The stable in the field and the small, knobby kneed, black lamb that follows Azriel around like ducklings in the Forest House pond in spring. He misses the creeping, ruby red moss and the yellow and sage aspens that crop up from out of the golden plains like the jagged teeth of a cliff.

Most of all, most desperately of all, he misses Azriel. There is not one inch of his soul that doesn’t.

The inked tip of his quill hangs over the page, a knife poised for the final push. Through skin, muscle, bone, to the heart of everything—the rot that waits, festering under the floorboards of his adamant desire to run. It is one thing; it is also a collection of things Eris has stored like the most gruesome of trinkets, the most harrowing of trophies.

Because Azriel calls him sweetheart. He writes in his tongue letters of longing and punctuates them with words like tatlım, and gach’lilit. As much as Eris wants to stitch those given titles to his chest, he already has one.

Eris Vanserra. Heir of Fire. Son of Autumn.

Sweetheart. Tatlım. Gach’lilit.

He cannot have both. The heir who wears the crown, who feels it’s golden spiked thorns pierce the thin skin of his head knows this. Eris Vanserra was not born with room on his chest for titles other than this: his father’s son.

When his quill meets the page, a heaviness in his hand that wasn’t previously there, he knows Azriel already knows what he will write.

‘Soon,’ he lies, ‘when the festival of the summer sun comes, I’ll visit.' Eris Vanserra cannot flaunt about the wilds of the Night Court without purpose or reason. Even less if the hint of the reason is his desire to see an Illyrian male—but he can set out on inter-court business to strengthen alliances, break down information, and gather intel. Eris Vanserra cannot winnow straight from the quilts of his bed into the hay-strewn floor of Azriel’s stable.

No matter how much he wants to.

His chest pinches, a sharp point digging into the sensitive skin between his ribs when Azriel takes a minute longer to reply. The page remaining horribly empty with their spare words, their delicate dance.

‘Then I will just have to hold onto these words a little longer, besheirt. I wish for you to hear them in person, for they are as sacred to me as you are.’

Something cracks, folds then splinters and out pours a smile like evening sunlight through the painted colors of autumn leaves in the canopy. The tension building in his shoulders leaks down and pools around his feet, an unwanted puddle he completely forgets about. Eris may be an heir, a son of autumn, and child of a loveless, forced marriage; but he is also sacred. Something holy and divine by only the rights of Azriel, and Azriel alone.

Eris has his titles. The stitched corners of his heart taken up piece by piece, but he will forever play the game of keeping himself in between the two if it will let him keep Azriel.

He has his own titles to give him.

~~///~~///~~///~~

(Key for words:)

Tatlım - ‘Sweetheart’

Gach’lilit - ‘Firefly’

Besheirt - ‘Notion of a soul mate, but mostly means Intended in terms of spouse’

aH. Alright okay cool I'm so normal about them. This is a short little thing, and it doesn't follow canon lore lol sorry about that. I really loved the idea of contrasts because for me it's what first drew me to this pairing. At first it seemed like there were too many contrasts for them to even be compatible, and then through softening my perspective of both of these characters and their flaws (and no small amount of delusion in which we merely squint from afar at SJMs portrayal of these characters) I found that maybe these contrasts actually enhance their chemistry. what crazy imagine that.

[venuscnjunctpluto]

Astro pt. 5

(I think it’s part 5😭)

* As a Venus conjunct pluto, Im so jealous of my cousins w Venus trine Pluto. They can easily become popular and have women drawn to them without as much drama.

*gemini rising babies are so much fun they smile so much as babies (shoutout to my niece and little cousin🥰)

* i have sun conjunct Neptune and people have compared me to a fairy

*cardi b has venus in the 8th (and a Scorpio venus i think) and she paid to get two strippers offset cheated w beat up. Scorpionic women + cheaters are a baddd combination.

*gwenyth Paltrow recently got body shamed and told to eat but shes also has a Pisces rising. They usually are very thin or have fragile looking bodies

*first house is also personality and my experience w Pluto in 1st people they are very very dominant. They’re friends follow them around, they’re used to getting their way, they have eyes on them at all times which can give them bad anxiety.

*Mars in the 2nd house men have some niceeeeeee voices like they’re so deep you can pick their voice out in a crowd

*I’ve seen Chiron in 11th be bullied as kids and grow up and become bullies. Also they might have a traumatic relationship with being in front of a camera. (Avoiding recording themselves or taking pictures)

*Virgo risings have some cool moms (sag in 4th)

*also Aries in 11th can get told they do too much on social media (posting too much or over sharing)

* I notice famous women who people claim are everywhere (basically overexposed) or in too many roles for actresses usually are Lilith dominant. (Ex: Jennifer Lawrence, GiGi Hadid, Megan thee stallion, Anne Hathaway) are they overexposed or are y’all just jealous?😭

*venus in the 1st can lead to jealousy it’s not always love and admiration. For ex: my friend saw this guy around our dorm and thought he was cute so she followed him on ig. Mind you a lot of girls in our dorm thought he was attractive (he had pluto in 1st) and many talked about him😭 well my friend saw his gf on his page and obviously left it alone but his gf picked her out of all the girls who lusted after him to be threatened by. Well his gf was an early degree cancer Venus and my friend has a Gemini Venus at 19 degrees so her Venus was in my friends 1h. She was clearly bothered by my friend specifically following him because she found her to be attractive.

*Three girls who talked about me behind my back and tried to bully me all had Aries venuses. One had my rising conjunct her Venus exactly.

*ONCE again mercury pluto are liars idk if it’s because they think they can get away w it or what but Sza has a conjunction and my good sis lies for no reason

*aqua Venus women are usually bisexual or lesbians

*Doja cat is a good example of Uranus-asc. I have a tight orb sextile and I’ve worn adventure time doc martens, strawberry earrings, bright orange hair. Think of Harper from wizards of waverly place.

*a good song for that aspect is “Secrets” by Mary Lambert. “I rock mom jeans, cat earrings, extrapolate my feelings”😮‍💨

*sun conjunct asc could make someone resemble their father or act just like their dad and I think Doja does resemble her father a lot

* also she has Saturn in 5th and her father was an actor/performer. Also she complained about working too much and many people w this aspect feel like the fun is delayed and comes after work or they very strict on themselves in fun environments. Let loose yall💕💕

* my favorite mercury sign is Taurus😭 they have beautiful voices but the way the cuss people out is so iconic to me (ex: azealia banks)

*it’s messy to bring him up after doja but idgaf😭 Joseph Quinn has mars conjunct Uranus. A lot of eddie munson’s mannerisms were erratic and I think mar-Uranus plus his aqua placements made eddie so great at the role.

*also I notice a lot of heartthrobs or men twitter went crazy for at some point have aqua placements (timothee chalamet, Harry styles, Justin Bieber, Joseph Quinn, Noah centineo, Pedro pascal) it’s opposite of Leo so I think people keep forgetting the attention magnet can go for aquas too esp online.

*since i mentioned the show another example of Venus-Neptune synastry could be Mason and Alex. All the art references, him hiding what he really was until he couldn’t, and the fears of cheating and deceit.

*a mix of Virgo, libra, and Leo can make someone the person who tries to help everyone. They will bring you food if you haven’t eaten and also lecture you but it’s coming from a good place. I think people forget how sweet Leo placements can be (ex: Bella hadid for someone who grew up w money she’s very humble and you can see this in multiple instances. For example sza thanked her for helping fix her hair at the met gala)

* she also have Venus conjunct ascendant which I think makes someone’s Venus traits stand out. I’ve noticed people w Venus square their ascendant don’t really openly express love for people and can even get called “cold” esp by family members.

*She also has Saturn in the 7th which could mean dating older partners or partners w cap placements. The Weeknd was older than her and he has a cap Venus + mars.

*certain placements can get away w a lot. Chris brown has a history of abuse yet women seem to still support him (moon conjunct Venus). He also has mars opposite Uranus which is a temper problem indicator

* fixed risings 🤝 pixie cuts/bobs (ex: Marilyn Monroe, Halle Berry, Zendaya, demi Lovato)

[jiyascepter]

Embracing Radiance

Masterlist

Want to be added to my taglist? Here!

Pairing: Loki x gn! reader

Words: 1.1k +

Warning/Content: slight angst but mostly fluff, insecure reader, the reader undresses in front of Loki (but nothing really explicit activity happening), established relationship, no use of y/n | lmk if there is more

Synopsis: Loki becomes a source of strength and love for the reader who faces body-shaming at work. Through tender affirmations and intimate kisses, Loki proves that beauty is all about embracing their unique radiance.

A/N: Sooooo my first ever fanfiction! Please note that english isn't my first language so there is a possibility of some errors. Hope you all like this!

The evening sun cast a warm glow across the city, painting the buildings in hues of orange and pink. As the day came to a close, Loki lounged in the living room of the apartment he shared with you, awaiting your return. The door creaked open, and he looked up to see you enter, a weariness etched across your face.

"Darling, you're home," Loki greeted, rising from his seat with a gentle smile. He could sense something was amiss as he observed the way you carried yourself. Your shoulders slumped, and your eyes, once filled with spark, now seemed clouded with a burden. You offered a weak smile in return, kicking off your shoes and making your way towards the living room. Loki walked over to you, concern evident in his emerald eyes. "What troubles you, my love? You don't seem okay."

You sighed, a heavy exhale escaping your lips as you sank into the plush couch. Loki took a seat beside you, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's just been one of those days, Loki," you confessed, avoiding his gaze. Loki tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Tell me, my sweet, what has transpired to cast this shadow upon your radiant countenance?"

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to confide in him. "I overheard some hurtful comments at work today. People were talking about my body, making me feel like I'm not good enough, like I should change the way I look."

Loki's expression shifted from curiosity to indignation. "They dare to criticize you? By the Nine Realms, such insolence!" He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. "You are perfect just the way you are, and anyone who says otherwise knows not the true essence of beauty." You nestled into his embrace, finding solace in his words. "I know I shouldn't let their words affect me, but it's hard, Loki. It's hard not to internalize their negativity."

Loki lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Listen to me, my love. Their words hold no weight. You are exquisite, a marvel crafted by the gods themselves. Your spirit, your mind, and yes, your body—all are divine. Do not let the shallow opinions of mortals lose your perception of self."

A small smile played on your lips, appreciating Loki's unwavering support. "Thank you, Loki. Your words mean more to me than you can imagine." Loki's eyes softened as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. "You are my heart, and I will not allow anyone to dim your light. Now, let me show you just how breathtaking you are."

With that, Loki stood, offering his hand to lead you to the bedroom. Intrigued by his proposal, you followed him, the warmth of his hand comforting. As you entered the dimly lit room, candles flickered, casting a soft glow that danced upon the walls.

Loki turned to you, his gaze filled with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Undress for me, my love, and let me unveil the beauty that is rightfully mine to adore."

A hint of blush colored your cheeks, but there was a magnetic pull in Loki's gaze that made you feel desired rather than self-conscious. You slowly removed your clothes, each garment falling away as Loki watched with a hunger that wasn't merely physical but emotional—a yearning to connect with the vulnerability you shared.

Once you stood before him, exposed in more ways than one, Loki's eyes roamed your form, appreciating every curve and contour. He stepped closer, tracing his fingers delicately along the lines of your body.

"You are a masterpiece." he whispered, his breath sending shivers across your skin. "From the curve of your neck to the gentle slope of your shoulders, every inch of you is a testament to the divine artistry of creation."

Loki dropped to his knees, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your foot. "This, my love, is a symbol of your journey—the paths you've walked and the steps you've taken. It is beautiful."

He continued his trail of kisses, looking up from time to time stealing glances of your reaction, moving upwards with each gentle caress. "Your knees, strong and resilient, have carried you through the storms of life. They are a testament to your strength."

His lips lingered on your thighs, and he spoke with reverence, "These, the canvas upon which life's tales are written. Every scar, every mark, tells a story of battles fought and victories won. They are a testament to your courage."

Loki stood, his eyes locking onto yours. "Your hips, a gateway to passion and pleasure. They are a celebration of desire and a testament to the allure that lies within you."

He circled his arms around your waist, pulling you close. A shiver runs across your body as his cold fingertips touch you. "Your abdomen, the core of your being. It houses the fire that fuels your spirit."

Loki pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone. "Your chest, the home to your heart. It beats with a rhythm that is uniquely yours, and it is a testament to the love that defines you."

He looked deep into your eyes, his voice softening. "Your arms, the embodiment of your embrace. They offer comfort, strength, and support. They are a testament to the love you share."

Loki brought his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, the intensity of his emotions conveyed through the connection of your mouths. "And your lips, my love, are the seal of our love—a testament to the union of our souls."

As he spoke, Loki's words became a soothing balm, healing the wounds inflicted by the world outside. With each kiss, he unraveled the layers of insecurity, leaving behind a trail of affirmation and adoration.

"You are magnificent." Loki says, his eyes locking onto yours. "Do not let the opinions of others taint the truth of your worth. You are a celestial being, and in my eyes, you will forever shine for me."

Loki's words and soft kisses ended you flustered, and your body as always, asking for more. It was an intoxicating blend of mischief in his eyes along with his tender touch. The weight that had burdened your spirit began to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of confidence and self-love. Loki's words had the power to transform, to elevate, and you found yourself grateful for the depth of his understanding and the sincerity of his love.

In the arms of Loki, you found not just a lover but a partner who saw beyond the surface and cherished the essence of who you truly were—a radiant soul worthy of love and admiration.

[arainbowofchaos]

You're my light ✩

pair: Jungkook x reader

genre : mainly angst and a sprinkle of fluff, owing to Jungkook's charming persona :)

warnings: mentions of alcoholism, depression, agoraphobia, daddy issues and grief

word count: 9k

summary: Trapped by social anxiety within the confines of your home, your world transforms upon Jungkook's arrival, your new neighbor. Little do you know, he's not just a stranger but a figure from your past with some hidden history. Could Jungkook hold the key to mend your emotional wounds and lead you towards healing?

[A/N]: Please lemme know what you think I'm getting anxiety just posting the whole thing, kinda put my heart in it. Thank you for taking the time to read.

Emotionally wounded, you watch raindrops collide with the windowpane in your kitchen, wondering how the rain would feel on your skin. Rain is a soothing melody, a solace that you have come to cherish. Over time, this sound became comforting, like a song on repeat. On days like this, the push to do anything fades away, and the guilt dissolves.

Childhood memories of carefree puddle-splashing play in your mind, a stark contrast to your current existence. You long to regain that spirit, but stepping outside triggers a heartache. It's sad how you have become a recluse, avoiding the world. In shame, you look at your hands, still holding the knife you've been using to chop vegetables. The rain has captured your attention, making cooking an afterthought.

This routine has become your comfort zone. You no longer venture beyond your home, convinced that there's nothing worthwhile outside. You find contentment in isolating yourself from the world around you. Your sensitivity is heightened to the point that everything wounds you – every comment, gesture, and thought grazes against you, leaving scars that will never fade. You've resigned yourself to living with these wounds indefinitely, seeing no reason to expose yourself to new ones. 

Your mother had preached the importance of moving forward, but confidantes are scarce since her departure. Loneliness envelops you, and you carry your burdens alone. Pills offer fleeting relief from the pain, granting you sleep.

Your father's feelings of resentment towards you are like a cloud that comes and goes. He struggles with alcohol, which makes things even more complicated. Even though you left his home a long time ago, he still shows up at your place from time to time, causing scenes and making things difficult. His hurtful words and actions when you were younger have left deep scars, making you scared of trusting men and feeling like you don't deserve love. 

Until your new neighbor steps into your life.

One Monday morning, he rings your doorbell persistently, but you consciously choose to ignore it. The chime continues to echo, punctuating the air with its urgency, yet you remain resolute, showcasing your mastery of avoidance.

His second visit takes a different turn. Instead of ringing or knocking, he leaves a dish of hwajeon for you on your doorstep, thoughtfully covered with a plastic dome. As you bend down to retrieve the dish, a note beneath it captures your attention.

"Hey there, I'm your new neighbor. Hope we can meet soon. Jeon Jungkook."

You're speechless. No one has ever made cakes for you before this day. Neither neighbors nor family have ever shown the slightest attention since your mother passed away. On that afternoon, you indulge in three floral cakes, sitting on your couch and sipping your red berry tea. And in that moment, your heart feels a bit lighter than usual. It's strange but for once, you feel like someone actually cares.

Jungkook doesn't wait long before coming for his third visit. When he knocks this time, you open the door right away, handing him his plate. It's been cleaned and carefully wrapped in a bag. Taking the bag quickly, he looks at you with surprise in his big brown eyes.

"Hey, I'm Jungkook." 

"Hi, I'm Y/N. Thanks for the cakes... they were really good," you say, feeling a bit awkward. This kind of attention is new to you.

He grins, his dimples catching your attention. With that in mind, you take a quick look at him from top to bottom. He's tall and wears loose clothing, with piercings in his lip, ear, and eyebrow, and his arm is covered in tattoos. His underground style seems to suit him perfectly. He's definitely not your average guy.

"Thanks. I run the Kiwa Café downtown. Maybe you could drop by sometime?" 

"Yeah, sorry, I'm not really the type to go out. Have a good one."

You attempt to close the door, but he stops it with his arm. He’s got some strong arms.

"Wait, what if I bring you more treats to try? Since you don't really go out." he suggests.

You're taken aback, finding it hard to believe what you're hearing. Your expression softens as you timidly nod. Jungkook responds with a warm smile, saying, "Great, I'll drop by tomorrow with more goodies. And perhaps you could treat me to some coffee?" He playfully winks and takes a step back. His body remains turned toward you, as if he's reluctant to turn away. You thank him once more and close the door before he leaves your driveway.

You're left in a state of shock. What does this guy want? Why is he being so kind? You can't quite grasp the situation, but one thing is certain: you appreciate his way of talking to you. He effortlessly makes you feel comfortable, a rare occurrence for you.

The following day, Jungkook shows up at your door, dressed in a black crop top, a denim jacket, and blue ripped jeans. He's brought chocolate-filled hotteoks for you. You're torn between the excitement of the pancakes on your kitchen table and the delight of having Jungkook strolling through your apartment, softly singing. His presence carries a warm aura that envelops you in its positive energy.

You've fulfilled your promise and offered him a cup of coffee, complete with a metallic pink plate and a dessert fork. He finds the color charming, and you blush because compliments about your tableware are a rarity. As you both savor the sweet treats and chat, you learn more about each other. You find out that he's a lifelong resident of Busan and that he chose to move out of his parents' house because his brunch restaurant is thriving. The business is doing so well that he's been able to hire additional staff. He's looking to create more space in his life to enjoy moments outside of work.

When he asks you why you no longer leave your home, you honestly reply that there is nothing waiting for you and that you are content with the way things are. He listens without passing any judgment, a quality you greatly appreciate.

As your conversation drifts to cooking and books, you uncover that he's a sensitive and humorous individual, incapable of harboring negative judgments against others. Talking to him feels effortless; he has a way of making you feel at ease and never foolish. His voice carries a gentle cadence. He speaks slowly, ensuring that each word glides smoothly from his lips. There's no rush, just like the soothing sound of raindrops tapping against your window. It dawns on you that you could easily become accustomed to the comforting sound of Jungkook's voice filling the air as he talks to you.

Your conversation is abruptly disrupted by a forceful knock on the door, and your heart clenches as you apprehensively consider the potential visitor. In an instant, your father enters without warning, causing your heart to race. His surprise is unmistakable as he takes in the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen.

"Who's this guy?" Your father snaps, his gaze fixed directly on Jungkook. His anger radiates palpably, and you can easily discern the influence of alcohol in his slurred speech.

You remain silent, feeling deeply uncomfortable and shocked. Jungkook notices your immediate tensing as he enters. Just moments ago, you were just fine, but now it's painfully clear that this new arrival is unwelcome. Since you don't respond and seem terrified, Jungkook decides to speak up.

"I'm Jungkook, your new neighbor. And you?" Jungkook stands up and extends his hand to your father, who responds with a forceful strike rather than a handshake. You shiver from head to toe, feeling helpless in finding the right words to say.

"Get the hell outta here!" the man continues aggressively. However, Jungkook appears entirely unimpressed; he's determined to understand who this man is to you and won't leave you alone with him unless you confirm it's your wish.

"Y/N, you good?" Jungkook's concern shows. Tears well up in your eyes, and no sound emerges from your mouth. You feel like you can't breathe; a panic attack takes hold, and you're desperately trying to calm yourself.

"And she's crying again, what a mess!" your father curses. Those words are enough to prompt Jungkook to take a step forward, his tone resolute but composed.

"Sir, I'd appreciate it if you left now," Jungkook addresses your father calmly. "Y/N needs some space, and I think it's best for all of us if you give her that."

Your father's face turns red with anger, and his frustration becomes even more evident. He clenches his fists, and for a moment, it feels like he's about to explode. "An' who do ya even think y'are, tellin' me how t'handle my own family?" he fires back, his voice rising.

Jungkook maintains his composure, though a trace of concern flickers in his eyes. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I just want to help. Y/N deserves a bit of calm right now," he says, his tone even.

Your father's anger escalates into a scene. He raises his voice, exclaiming, "I dun' need no stra-nger tellin' me 'bout my own daugh-ter!" His words reverberate in the room, thickening the tension.

Jungkook keeps his gaze on your father, his patience unwavering. "I'm not here to lecture anyone. I'm just asking for a bit of understanding."

After a heated exchange of words, your father lets out an exasperated sigh and storms out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. The room is left in an uneasy stillness, the weight of the confrontation lingering in the air. You're now alone with Jungkook, your heart still racing from the encounter.

Jungkook returns his attention to you, his expression softening. "Hey, you're okay. He's gone now. Just take deep breaths, alright? You're safe."

His words provide a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. You manage to steady your breathing, focusing on Jungkook's reassuring presence.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice still trembling.

Your new neighbor offers a gentle smile. "No need to thank me. I'm just here to make sure you're okay."

Without a word, Jungkook takes a step closer, his intention clear. You feel a warmth emanating from him, an unspoken gesture of support.

And then, in a moment of profound understanding, his arms envelop you in a gentle embrace. You welcome it, allowing yourself to lean into the hug, feeling his comforting presence wrap around you. Your hands find their place around his small waist, fingers curling slightly.  It's been years since you've been hugged. Feeling Jungkook against you, his black curls tickling your face, his scent—a blend of orange and passion flower—is intoxicating.

...

The recent days have brought a wave of happiness, unlike any you've experienced in a long time. Jungkook has become a constant presence, visiting you almost every evening after closing his café. Each time, he arrives bearing the day's leftover treats, and you've noticed a pattern – it's almost as if he sets some items aside especially for you, given the appearance of new treats daily.

When he arrives, the two of you embark on culinary adventures together. Seeing him wear your pink apron unexpectedly charms you. He often ties his hair in a small bun, a detail you can't help but notice and find appealing. His comfort in your space is noticeable, and he respects your boundaries. He doesn't ask intrusive questions, and his curiosity never makes you uncomfortable. You feel grateful that he doesn't push for explanations after the incident with your father. 

As the days pass, Jungkook's daily visits continue, leaving you to ponder the underlying reasons behind his actions. This situation intrigues you - you perceive yourself as ordinary, yet his consistently caring behavior since the beginning prompts you to wonder what might be driving it.

It's hard for you to fathom why your new neighbor seems so determined to drop by every day. You've contemplated the possibility that his feelings might extend beyond friendship, but considering you've only known each other for a week, it's unsettling.

It's the way he gazes at you intensely when he assumes you're not looking, and how he naturally gravitates towards your presence. It's not an everyday occurrence for such an attractive individual to show active interest in you. Slowly, you find yourself beginning to rely on his company, and it leaves you feeling anxious.

Gathering your thoughts, you find the courage to ask the question that has been swirling in your mind.

"Jungkook... I gotta know, why do you come over every single day?"

Surprise lights up his eyes; it's evident that he hadn't anticipated such a direct inquiry. He clears his throat, and a slight blush graces his cheeks.

"I really enjoy hanging out with you. If my visits bug you, just let me know" he answers, his voice gentle and reassuring. He fidgets with his lip piercing, briefly averting his gaze before locking eyes with you once again, a newfound intensity behind his look. While you accept his response, an intuitive feeling suggests that there's more beneath the surface.

"How can I put this?” You start to ponder with a touch of caution. “I like having you around. But I can't help but wonder if this routine might get old for you."

He shakes his head vehemently, his gaze tinged with a hint of sadness at what you've just suggested. Then, he asserts with conviction, "I value every moment we spend together, whether it's here or anywhere else. I'd love to take you out sometime, but I don't wanna rush it. What matters is us being together like this."

His way of conveying his feelings is beautifully simple; he genuinely just wants to spend time with you. You're flattered, and your astonishment is transparent on your face – it's as if you're struggling to believe the sincerity he's displaying. As Jungkook takes a step closer, the soft scent of his cologne envelops the room, infusing the air with a comforting familiarity. He gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers warm against your skin, and looks at you with a tenderness that's impossible to misunderstand. The truth of his intention is unmistakable.

"I want you to know how amazing you are. Seriously,"  he tells you with unwavering enthusiasm. Your head unconsciously tilts toward his touch, like a flower leaning into the sunlight, and your motion garners a fond chuckle from him. "And you're super cute, too."

Even though you're not really looking for romance, you find yourself hoping to have him around as much as you can. You know that his interest might not last forever, but you're not focusing on that right now. The happiness he brings you in the present is what matters most.

This is what ultimately leads you to the decision of accepting his invitation to join him for a drink at his café.

"You know what? I've been thinking... I'd like to check out your café. See where you work," you admit, your words laced with a mixture of curiosity and eagerness.

Jungkook's face brightens, a wide grin forming on his face. His enthusiasm is palpable as he practically springs up from his seat.

"Really? That's awesome!" he exclaims, the genuine delight in his voice making your heart skip a beat. You both reach an agreement that this visit will happen before the café's opening hours. The next day, he'll come to pick you up in his car, a detail that adds a tinge of excitement to the anticipation.

...

If you were to describe Jungkook's café, you'd say it's vibrant and luminous. The space isn't huge, but it's cozy. Along the bay window's entire length, carefully arranged flower pots create a greenhouse-like atmosphere. Small tables are tucked away in this space. The use of materials, like wood and black metal, adds an industrial feel. The ambiance radiates warmth and elegance, suggesting he's tailored the café to match his personality.

From Jungkook's expression, you can tell how delighted he is that you wanted to explore his work. You understand how much energy and passion he's invested in his business. It warms your heart to see him bustling behind the counter, preparing your black sesame lattes while humming a happy tune.

When he joins you at the table nearest to the bay window, right beside the azaleas (which are so exquisite that you want to appreciate them up close), he places the two lattes on the table with utmost care. A heart-shaped milk foam graces the surface of your latte, an attention to detail that elicits another slightly quicker heartbeat from you.

Amused, Jungkook observes your contemplation of the drink, a playful glint in his eyes. You lift your gaze, your cheeks tinged with a soft blush, and you offer a genuine expression of gratitude. If he punctuates this exchange with a sly wink, it's merely to incite laughter and a fond roll of your eyes – he's become quite attuned to your reactions.

Taking out his phone, Jungkook seems a bit nervous and asks, "Can I take a picture of you?" 

"Why? I... uh…" Panic sets in – photos aren't really your thing, and you kind of wish you could just disappear.

"It's like your first time out in forever, you know? Capturing the moment could be cool."

But you're not totally convinced. You're thinking of saying it's kind of silly, and honestly, you don't feel like you deserve all this attention. I mean, you're mostly here because of him, right?

"What if you took a picture of me too?"

It's this last proposition that changes your mind. A photograph of Jungkook is something you genuinely desire. Perhaps it could be a way to keep him close even when he's absent? You might seem like a stalker, but your newly awakened feelings can't be suppressed. You nod and retrieve your rarely-used phone; this seems like the perfect opportunity.

He gets into a pose all effortlessly, with this tender look in his eyes. You snap the shot, capturing his cute smile forever in your phone's gallery.

"Now it's my turn."

You're not sure how to pose, so you just kind of shyly look at him while holding up your latte.

"You look really nice," he says quietly from behind his phone, and those words make you way happier than you'd admit. Taking a sip of your coffee, you segue into conversation.

"Your coffee is amazing, and I really love the vibe. I get why it's doing well."

He grins at your nice words, looking kind of proud.

"Thanks, I'm glad you like it. You're welcome here anytime."

"I don't want to bother you while you're working, though."

"Nah, you're not bothering me. Time drags when you're not around."

And you're not sure if it's the latte or just his friendliness, but words start flowing out before you can even think.

"I could actually work here. It'd be a good spot for me to write my articles."

Jungkook nearly chokes on his coffee, but he's got this big happy smile on his face.

"That would be awesome," he says, all gentle and sincere.

This is the first time a man has made you feel so desired in a way that isn't just about the physical. He also feels the need to have you around all the time. He's equally invested. And even if you don't fully comprehend your contribution, you're determined to reciprocate, to make him feel as special as he makes you feel.

...

You've been involved in writing literary articles for a long time, tracing back to your primary passion: reading. It all started with a simple personal blog during your teenage years, where sharing your thoughts online gradually captured your interest. As your blog gained more followers, you could sense your confidence and pride blossoming. Suddenly, at 20 years old, an unexpected opportunity knocked on your door. A renowned literary journal offered you a chance to write a weekly article. The thought of working remotely and getting paid to review new publications felt almost unreal. Writing was the most cherished aspect of your life, and this offer meant the world to you.

But little did you realize that this enjoyment of yours could deepen even further... until that fateful day when you made the decision to spend your time working in Jungkook's café. 

As you step into the café on your own, he instantly notices, rushing over with uncontained excitement to envelop you in a tight hug, even lifting you off the ground. The words of genuine pride he whispers into your ear create a unique warmth that ignites within you. Experiencing his authentic appreciation becomes one of the most heartwarming sensations you've known.

And then, unexpectedly, he brings forth an assortment of beverages – tea, lemonade, and orange juice – with almost whimsical efficiency, all in quick succession, "to keep you perfectly hydrated!" His insistence on not accepting any payment only adds to the sincerity of the gesture.

As night's curtain descends upon the café, he bids his farewell to the last customer, turning to cast you a smile that seems to hold the very essence of genuineness and sincerity. "What an absolutely incredible day!" he exclaims with an infectious enthusiasm that swiftly spreads to you. 

Throughout the day, you've been attentively observing Jungkook as he effortlessly manages the café's bustling operations. Every interaction with customers is an exquisite display of his innate politeness and warmth. From the way he greets them with a genuine smile to how he takes the time to inquire about their preferences, it's clear that his kindness isn't reserved just for you. 

You're deeply moved by how your connection with Jungkook has grown. He's been persistent in breaking down your walls from the very start. This transformation is clear: in a short time, Jungkook has become a significant part of your life, a cherished friend. Despite initially thinking you could handle things alone, you're now openly admitting that his presence brings you real happiness.

The issue lies in the fact that when you return home in the evenings after your days spent together, the burden of anxiety returns to rest upon your shoulders. A new kind of apprehension emerges – the fear of losing the friendship that provides you with so much solace. Tears well up at the mere thought of a future without him, and you're frustrated with yourself for feeling this way. Why does it seem so difficult for you to appreciate the current moment? You find yourself convinced that someone as wonderful as Jungkook doesn't belong in your life, especially when he embodies all the qualities you could ever wish for in a person.

...

Jungkook vividly remembers the first time he laid eyes on you. Both of you were in middle school, but in different classes due to your two-year age difference. He was pushed by a classmate from your class because he was doodling cute characters on paper instead of playing soccer. Instead of making fun of him like everyone else, you stepped in to defend him. At that time, you were more confident, and confronting others didn't bother you. You simply couldn't ignore injustice. When you helped him pick up his pencils from the ground and flattened his crumpled drawing under your books, you said words he could never forget, "Hey, don't let anyone boss you around. You've got every right to follow your passions!" with a wink that made his stomach flip. He didn't know what love was back then, but that's when he started paying attention to you.

That's why he noticed the exact moment when the change occurred in you. He still doesn't know the reason to this day, but it used to torture him. He observed how you withdraw into yourself. You spent time alone during breaks, barely responding to your classmates' invitations. He liked coming close to you to draw, and you didn't object; you let him do it as you read your book quietly. Occasionally, you exchanged knowing glances, but no words were spoken. During those moments, he felt like he was supporting you – not leaving you alone like everyone else seemed to do. How could he not notice the spark extinguished in your eyes? You, who used to talk and laugh loudly, had become silent.

And then one day, you finished school and he lost sight of you. It made him really sad, his heart felt broken without you around. What you might not know is that Jungkook never forgot you, even during the years when he couldn't find you. He held onto memories of you, even when he had chances for romantic relationships. The idea of you stayed in his thoughts, making it difficult for him to let go completely, his mind always coming back to you.

A few months ago, he came across an article written by you – he couldn’t believe it. Just seeing your name brought back so many memories. He dedicated hours to reading your frequently updated blog. Learning that you've been residing near his café filled him with immense joy. He felt like the luckiest person alive.

And so, he decided to leave his parents' home and quickly found a place to live right next to yours. Some might find this weird, but for him, it was a natural step to reconnect with you. Your warm welcome was just like it had been before. Believing in destiny, he sees this reunion as something meant to happen. His goal now is to help you find your carefree self again, if you're open to it. And it seems you are.

There's one thing that Jungkook would like to come clean about: he wants you to remember the 12-year-old boy he was. He needs to admit that he was that person to you, even if it might change things between you. 

...

It's 6 AM, and Jungkook's awakened by his usual alarm – just like every morning, you're the first thing that pops into his head, especially since your photo adorns his phone’s wallpaper. It's been a few weeks of almost daily hangouts, and he senses you're opening up bit by bit – he really wants to gather the guts to ask you out. He worries that if he waits too long, you might start misconstruing his intentions. He just wants to make it clear he doesn't want you to see him as just a friend. 

Running his fingers through his dark hair, he lets out a groan before burying his head in his pillow. He knows he'll have to gather his courage and take the leap soon. Jungkook gets out of bed and heads for a shower to clear his mind – when he's suddenly alerted by the sound of his front doorbell ringing. Quickly slipping into a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, he rushes to open his front door.

Standing right there is... you, and it doesn't take him long to realize that your eyes are red and puffy, and it's evident that you've been crying. Your braids are disheveled, and you're still clad in your hello kitty pajamas.

"I... I kind of just showed up... I saw your lights on... I'm... sorry... didn't mean to bug you," you sob, and it's a heart-wrenching sight that tugs at his emotions. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his embrace, aiming to provide comfort.

"I'm here, you're not bugging me at all, you did the right thing by coming over. C'mon in," he reassures you in a gentle voice. Jungkook's scent carries a hint of soap, and you're enveloped in it, feeling the warmth of his body beneath your cheek. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat has a soothing effect, helping you regain control of your own breathing.

As he welcomes you into his home, Jungkook closes the door behind you and leads you into his living room. There's minimal furniture – just a sofa and a TV – he moved in not too long ago, after all. And most of his free time has been dedicated almost exclusively to you. He motions for you to sit on the couch and takes a spot nearby, leaving a small gap between you to avoid overwhelming you. To his surprise, it's you who scoots closer, seeking solace in his arms again – and he's more than happy to oblige. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as if silently saying, I'm here.

"Hey, what's going on, Y/N? You seem really upset," Jungkook worries. His voice still holds traces of morning huskiness, and his warm breath brushes against your skin. You're enveloped in a comforting atmosphere.

"I... I'm just struggling... with everything... and it's like I'm scared of every little thing," you admit, but what you really mean is I feel like I’m suffocating when you're not around. "Before you came along, being alone was fine... but now…”

And maybe nobody else could quite grasp the weight of what you're expressing, but he gets it immediately – he holds you even tighter, offering reassurance.

"I like being around you too. You shouldn't stress about it, it's a good thing,"he says gently.

"Nah," you reply with a serious tone. "I don't want... to end up relying on whether I see you or not... it's kinda silly, I barely know you." And even if you come across as rude, you don't care. You need to let it all out. Your eyes are brimming with tears as you try to explain. "If you leave, what am I supposed to do? I don't want to feel like I can't function without you."

Jungkook chuckles softly—not at you, but at your words. You're not used to relying on anyone. You've lived in seclusion for so long that the simple realization that you're comfortable with someone triggers a tsunami of tears within you.

He decides that now is finally the right time to be honest. You were the one who first confessed your feelings to him—albeit clumsily. And seeing you cry like this, it's clear that there's something there for him, even if it's just a tiny spark.

"I can't imagine doing well without you either," Jungkook admits softly. Your face turns to him swiftly as his words reach your ears. His gaze is unapologetic, genuine, full of tenderness, and you can barely meet his eyes because of how intimidated you are.

"What do you mean? We've only known each other for a few weeks," you express, a bit stunned. "How can you be sure about that?" You inquire further.

Jungkook pauses - this is the moment. His hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "To be honest, we've known each other for a bit longer." You lean back a bit, pulling away from Jungkook, much to his regret, but it's expected; his words have taken you by surprise.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, cautious and a bit skeptical.

"Just give me a moment, I'll be back soon. It'll make sense," He says with a reassuring smile.

Jungkook gets up from the couch and disappears for what feels like a long, endless few minutes before he returns, holding a photo album in his hands. He settles back down beside you and offers you the album. "I was around 12 years old in these class photos. Maybe it'll jog your memory."

You could have never predicted what was about to unfold. As you turn the pages of the album, suddenly there's a photo of a little boy looking back at you. He's dressed in a school uniform - much like the one you wore in middle school. And you recognize him, but it's hard to believe it could actually be Jungkook, right?

Your eyes widen so much that no more tears come out; you're just in shock. You can't even speak.

"Look, I hope you're not mad. This wasn't easy for me to spill out. I was worried you'd want nothing to do with me after this," he says with a touch of nervousness.

You shake your head, finding it hard to believe his words."Wait, Jungkook, you're telling me this little guy is you? The one who used to draw next to me every single recess?"

He nods, a bit shyly, and it's like you're seeing your old schoolmate all over again. The one who was always hanging around, no matter where you went, bringing you some kind of comfort during those tough times after your mother passed away. Suddenly, all those memories, the good and the bad, are swirling in your head, and honestly, you just want to hit reset, go back to square one. You jump up, needing to leave, to head back home, pop those pills to make the past just shut up.

"Don't go like that, just let me explain." Jungkook tries to hold you back, but you're already in the entryway, your hand on the doorknob.

"I probably shouldn't have come here. Jungkook, I... I'm not mad at you, but I really need to leave."

"Wait, hold on. Can we talk instead of you leaving like this? Please, don't disappear on me again!" And he's yelling at this point, his voice echoing in the room, and you realize the pain it holds. Suddenly, you're no longer thinking about yourself, but about this vulnerable boy who wants to keep you close. What are you afraid of?

"I've got a lot of baggage, you know. I... I don't think I deserve your attention. It's like a waste of time for you to be with someone like me." you declare with frustration.

"I might not know all the details about your past, but I see you as an amazing person. And I really care about you, like, a lot." Jungkook's words come out gently, his gaze steady on yours, as if he's trying to express the sincerity of his emotions. 

"Can you give trusting me a chance?" He's asking sincerely, and you want to agree, but you're afraid of how he might react once he realizes how messed up you truly are. 

With a reluctant nod and a hint of hesitation in your gaze, you still find yourself willingly accepting the hand he's reaching out to you. There's a sense of liberation in letting your guard down. Confronting your anxiety attacks with Jungkook by your side seems to surpass the effectiveness of any medication, even though it involves the potential risk of future pain.

...

"Have you continued drawing, Jungkook?" You inquire, a genuine curiosity lacing your words.

His response is tinged with humility. "Yeah, I still doodle here and there, but I won't pretend I'm some pro. It's just a thing I do for fun." 

A playful grin forms on your lips. "Is there anything you're not good at?"

He playfully retorts, "Well, you'll probably find out sooner or later if you stick around."

A chuckle escapes your lips. You're in it for the long haul.

After the revelations Jungkook shared, everything suddenly clicks into place, a puzzle of emotions now neatly assembled. The enigma of why this extraordinary man took interest in you unravels, fittingly revealing its answer. Welcoming a figure from your past back into your present is as bewildering as it is enlightening, considering the deliberate isolation you've woven around yourself. Encountering a familiar face wasn't part of the story you had envisioned.

From that morning onward, a new rhythm emerges. You initially thought you'd want alone time to process the revealed truths, but surprisingly, you find yourself craving his company, seeking the comfort he brings. He becomes a regular presence in your space, creating a cozy spot on the sofa bed where you engage in countless conversations that stretch beyond twilight.

During quiet nights, if you stir from slumber, you retreat to your bedroom with a mix of hesitation. He pretends to be asleep, his breath shallow, and you ponder whether his gaze would reveal more in the dim light. In recent days, touch has become a silent language, fingers grazing skin to convey comfort and understanding. Your thoughtful gestures extend further, seen in the room you make for him in your bathroom and closet. He transforms into a dependable source of support, and you both intuitively sense the ease with which you share moments and spaces.

Here's the thing, you find yourself yearning to deepen your connection. Despite feeling shattered, you're attuned to the moments when your heart races. What you feel for him goes beyond mere fondness; you desire him in a way that leaves no room for doubt. As he rises in the morning, stretching and gifting you his first smile, you find yourself yearning to kiss him. Yet, the beauty of your dynamic lies in its naturalness, making you eagerly anticipate the day when such a moment will unfold seamlessly between you two.

Yet, the weight of your past remains a burden you carry alone – you can't bring yourself to accept his love until he's aware of your complete history. You're well conscious that his perception of you might shift dramatically, perhaps even pushing him to retreat. He clings to an image, a nostalgic notion of you from his childhood, and you've undergone significant changes since those days. Even though he's cognizant of this, you pick up on his yearning to resurrect the person you once were – and that's simply unattainable. You'll never revert to that former self. So, being honest, when he confesses something later while you both relax on the couch – his head on your lap, your fingers playing with his hair – you’re not prepared.

"I think I might be falling in love with you," he confesses, his words breaking the tranquility of the moment you're sharing in front of the screen.

The admission catches you off guard, and you react with a mixture of surprise and conviction, "That can’t be."

"Why do you say that?" His tone carries a touch of reproach as he lifts his head to meet your gaze. It's evident that your response has struck a chord with him, and you're already grappling with a pang of guilt.

"I'm not the best person, you know... I've caused pain to people in ways that don't make me deserving of your affection. Trust me on that," you explain, hoping he won't press further.

He leans back slightly, a contemplative look on his face, "You should talk to me about what happened. I'm not trying to rush you or anything, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. Always."

The sincerity in his eyes and the way he puts his feelings on the line encourage you to open up, to let him in, even though you're fearful of the judgment that might come with revealing your past.

You curl up into a small ball, wanting to appear as small as possible.

"What do you wanna know?" you ask him, your voice soft.

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, determined to seize the opportunity you're giving him to learn more about you.

"I'm kinda curious about what went down when you were 14, the time you started isolating yourself in school to read," he says, sounding pretty straightforward.

"You actually noticed that back then?" you respond, genuinely surprised that he paid such close attention.

"You used to be this bright presence, and then, you changed. I caught onto that real quick. I was too shy to ask you about it. I still regret it, you know…" His voice wavers at the end, revealing the sincerity of his words. He really wishes he could've been there for you.

"You were just a kid too, Kook," you say gently, using the nickname that brings a smile to his face. "You were more there for me than anyone else, and I appreciate it."

He never anticipated finding you again, let alone receiving your gratitude. Whatever you're about to reveal to him, he wants to spend the rest of his life protecting you, making up for lost time. He wants to hold you in his arms. He wants to kiss you. He wants you to finally understand that he loves you deeply, and that nothing could ever change that.

"I lost my mother, and it's my fault," you finally admit, the pain clear in your trembling voice. "I caused the car accident."

Jungkook remains silent, allowing you the space to share your story without interruption. He gently caresses your wrist, a silent encouragement for you to continue.

"Back then, I had this blog where I shared my favorite books, but my dad didn't like it at all. He was having this huge argument with my mom when everything happened," you explain with a heavy tone, avoiding his gaze as you speak. Tears start to well up, and your voice wavers, "My mom was always on my side. She meant the world to me, and when I lost her, my whole world just fell apart."

"Oh, sweetheart..." he murmurs gently, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace that you welcome despite your feelings of guilt. "You can't blame yourself for this. Were you in the car too? And your dad?" His question is tender, his disbelief evident as he realizes the burden you've silently carried for so long.

"My father and I survived, but he holds me responsible for the accident and wants nothing to do with me," you share, your voice tinged with a mix of sadness and frustration. "I lived with him alone until I turned 20. I tried to continue my studies, but when I got the offer from the journal, I left. I could finally make a living and never see him again," you recount. "Yet, from time to time, he comes back just to make me feel awful, like he did the other day when you were here."

Jungkook is appalled by your father's behavior. How could anyone blame a 14-year-old? It's beyond comprehension.

"Wow, that's just... messed up," Jungkook responds, his voice filled with disbelief, "I'm really sorry you had to go through that. I can't believe your dad would do that to you. Blaming you for something like that and cutting you off?"

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of your past still evident in your tone. "Yeah - he couldn't handle the fact that I was doing something he didn't agree with, even if it was just writing about books. And when the accident happened during their argument... Well, he put all the blame on me."

Jungkook's grip on you eases slightly, his empathy palpable. "But you managed to get away from that toxic environment," he remarks, his voice warm. "You grabbed the opportunity and moved on, working at the journal and building your own life. That's pretty damn courageous if you ask me."

You manage a half-smile, the memory of your journey to independence still vivid. 

He lets out a soft sigh, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "You’re not blaming yourself for what happened, right?"

A gentle chuckle escapes you, laced with a hint of irony. "What do you think? I isolated myself all those years. It's hard to forgive myself."

Time feels suspended as you've just opened your heart completely. There's nothing left hidden. To your astonishment, Jungkook hasn't fled as you half-expected he might.

His touch remains warm against your skin, a silent reassurance that he's here to stay, regardless of the scars you've unveiled. In his eyes, you see a mixture of empathy and affection, as if he's been waiting for this moment to understand you more deeply. The weight of your shared emotions hangs in the air, mingling with a newfound sense of intimacy.

"I hope you can forgive yourself someday. And thank you for sharing your past with me," he says softly, his voice a soothing tune that dispels the tension in the room.

You manage a small smile, touched by his words. "It wasn't easy to open up, but I'm glad I did."

His fingers tenderly brush against your head, as if affectionately tousling your hair, "You don't have to carry your burdens alone anymore. I'm here for you, no matter what."

The sincerity in his voice resonates within you, and you find yourself leaning into his touch. In his presence, the weight of your past seems just a bit lighter, the pain a bit more bearable. As the minutes pass, the silence between you feels comfortable, a testament to the unspoken connection you've forged. With Jungkook by your side, the wounds of your history don't sting as sharply. It's as if he's a balm for your soul, mending the broken pieces with patience and care.

As you bask in the quiet companionship, you realize that the journey ahead won't be without its challenges. Healing takes time, and vulnerability is a journey of its own. But now, you have a partner who's willing to walk that path alongside you, no matter how rough it gets. 

...

Since opening up to each other, a shift has occurred in you. It's as if a dormant part of you has awakened, nudging you to venture beyond your comfort zone. You start small with grocery shopping and even a cinema visit, hand in hand with Jungkook. Soon, solitary walks, workdays at various locales like the park, library, and Jungkook's café become your norm. Life starts to regain its hues, and appreciation for it blooms once again.

While strolling in the park one day, a familiar face approaches you, etched with anger and accusation. Surprised, as you've been feeling watched lately, you realize it wasn't just paranoia.

"So, now you decide to step out, huh? Putting on a show?" Your father's words sting with bitterness. "While I've been miserable since your mother's death, you seem to have magically found happiness? You make me sick!" His voice carries a storm, discomfort washing over you.

You face him, his spiteful words hanging heavy. The once-sunny day turns chilly, leaving you vulnerable. Refusing to be shattered by your father's words, you gather courage. "You don't get to hold me responsible for your unhappiness," your voice steady despite inner turmoil. "I've grown; I'm finding my own path."

Your father's anger sharpens. "Oh, really? So, this guy brings you joy while I've been in misery?"

The tension hangs thick, a cloud between you two. Heart pounding, you recall past conflicts, but this time, you're resolute.

"I'm not responsible for your pain. But I won't let it define me either, and I won't apologize for seeking happiness."

Your words linger, a testament to your growth and strength. As you stand firm, the weight of your journey toward self-empowerment shines through your words.

"And you know," you continue, your voice softer, "We both deserve to heal. Holding onto bitterness won't help either of us. I've found a path that brings me happiness; I hope you can find yours."

A pause follows, your father pondering your words. Anger in his eyes wavers, replaced by uncertainty. With a sigh, he looks away, shoulders dropping.

"Yeah, do what you want," he mutters, his tone subdued.

"Thank you," your sincere response. "I wish you well."

Turning, you walk away, leaving tension behind. Your father watches, then turns and walks in the opposite direction.

Arriving home, you find Jungkook, donning your pink apron, making Bulguri Noodles. His presence warms your heart. Sharing the encounter, he expresses admiration for your strength. Grateful, you thank him for empowering you to stand up for yourself, a reflection of the strength you both have shared since your childhood days.

...

As the anniversary of your mother's passing approaches, cemeteries evoke intense aversion within you. Visiting her grave has grown daunting, fueled by insurmountable anxiety and fear of encountering your strained relationship with your father, even with Jungkook's soothing presence.

In the midst of your emotional turmoil, Jungkook offers a beautiful idea that flows effortlessly from him. "Why not create a commemorative day?" he suggests. "Visit her cherished places, do activities that brought her joy. It's about preserving her memory in your unique way."

The weight of uncertainty settles on your shoulders. "I'm not entirely sure if I can handle it," you confess, your voice laced with vulnerability and hesitation.

Jungkook offers a reassuring smile. "If you want, I can be there with you. We could do it together."

"I would genuinely appreciate that," you respond, the warmth of gratitude and emotion swelling within you.

And so, the journey to organize a day dedicated to your mother's memory begins. For you, it's an opportunity to reacquaint yourself with her essence through the prism of cherished memories. For Jungkook, it's a chance to glimpse her through your eyes.

The day arrives. Jungkook dresses elegantly, clad in a crisply ironed white shirt and black linen pants, his black hair framing his face ethereally. On your part, you've chosen a modest black dress, an homage to your mother's favorite color. Jungkook's admiring gaze lands on you, a testament to his appreciation for your choice.

"You look stunning," he murmurs, releasing an almost inaudible breath.

His words melt doubts. With him by your side, you face the day's commemorations with newfound resilience.

Instead of a cemetery, you honor your mother's artistry in an art gallery. Jungkook's presence is reassuring as he walks beside you, holding your hand. 

Art speaks to you, a reminder of your mother's love. Pointing out art that reminds you of her, Jungkook listens intently, genuine interest in his eyes.

You confess, "I used to enjoy when you doodled around me. It reminded me of my mom. She loved drawing. She used to illustrate stuff for kids, but she also had these personal pieces she kept just for herself."

Pride and affection light Jungkook's face. The urge to kiss you is strong, but he restrains it. Today is about honoring the memory of you and your mother.

Leaving the gallery's embrace behind, you step into the warm caress of sunlight and head towards Haeundae Beach. The yearning to bask in the lovely weather and absorb the ocean breeze propels you onward. Memories surge back – those cherished moments, just the two of you. Your mother's days off often translated into these special beach outings.

As you approach the beach, the golden sands extend before you, converging with the vast expanse of azure waters that stretch towards the distant horizon. Jungkook's gaze locks onto yours, brimming with hope and vulnerability. With a softness as tender as a whisper, he asks, "Would your mother have approved of me?"

He looks so young and uncertain, so adorable that your heart could almost burst. The fact that he's even asking this question makes you fall for him a little more.

A rush of emotions floods you, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She'd have adored you," you reply, your voice brimming with certainty. “You two share so many passions and values. She'd have wanted me to find someone like you."

In that moment, Jungkook's hesitation dissipates. His resolve to convey his feelings takes over. He takes a step forward. "Then, maybe you could build your life with me?" he says, his voice carrying hope and charm.

A mix of emotions wells within you, your heart caught between longing and self-doubt. "You might not fully realize what you're getting yourself into."

But Jungkook surprises you, his fingers intertwining with yours, his touch tender. His gaze, so intense and sincere, meets yours as he says, "I understand more than you might think."

Your heart skips a beat, the gravity of his words sinking in. The day, this moment, is a culmination of emotions and shared experiences. And then, without hesitation, he utters the three words you've yearned to hear from him for so long.

"I love you."

It's a confession that echoes in the space between you, a declaration that tugs at the strings of your heart. You didn't anticipate how deeply his words would resonate, how they would weave into the fabric of your being. The tears you've been holding back finally break free, a testament to the depth of your emotions. They trace a path down your cheeks, mingling with your smile as you respond, your voice unwavering and genuine, "I love you too, Kook."

Jungkook's been waiting for this moment, for your reciprocation, for the confirmation that your hearts beat in sync. His hands find your face, his touch gentle yet filled with purpose. And then, with a tenderness that transcends words, he leans in and kisses you. 

As his lips touch yours, warmth envelops you.

You're home.

[gepardling]

late bloomer w/ gepard.

desc. : Am i projecting a little? Gepard's reaction to falling in love feels like something I would do... I might make a 2nd part. (wc : 1.5k)

tags / cw : sfw, afab!reader, use of she/her pronouns, just fluff, mostly Gepard's emotional state, glaring romance trope if u can spot it, tried proofreading but i'm sleepy

index : part 2

Gepard, being a man driven by duty, has structured his entire life around fulfilling the expectations placed upon him. To be a shield. To protect the people. To fight for Belobog. This strong sense of responsibility has created a wall between his work and personal life, leading him to prioritize work above all else. The casual word for this would be a "workaholic," but Gepard vehemently denies this term if anyone were to use it against him.

He was NOT a workaholic, insisting that he had other hobbies. For instance, he enjoys cooking and tending to plants. Though he’d be too shy to really admit it, so does it even count? More often than not, he would be training if he's off duty anyways, driven by that same old galvanized stubbornness that's been bred into him by the Landau bloodline. Serval, his sister, had even called him out on it before, making repeated attempts to encourage him to relax.

"Gepard, you just can't seem to appreciate the delicate and fun things in life anymore…" Today’s topic: Women. 

It's no secret that the Silvermane Captain was… To put it lightly, woefully unskilled regarding matters of the heart. In fact, he seems to avoid romantic entanglements altogether, putting off his responsibility to marry and carry on the Landau bloodline. This hesitancy was Gepard's sole reservation, yet he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason behind it. He just wasn’t too focused on that aspect of his life right now, or so he’d convinced himself for years.

"Is that a streak of rebellion? Oh, heavens, no! Shame on you, Gepard! What would father think of your reluctance to do what's expected of you," Serval quipped, barely finishing her dramatic display before emitting the most irritating chortle that had ever graced Gepard's cochleas. 

"What do you expect me to do? Drag some girl off the street?" He retorted, almost annoyed at his sister's amusement over his predicament. 

"NO, silly. God, you're so serious all the time. Loosen up! That's not how dating works. No girl would want to go out with you if you're so stuck up about it." 

Sure, Serval was only joking. Yet, those words made his heart clench a little, ringing painfully through his mind. Was he really just too serious? It felt as if he had abruptly become painfully conscious of his own personality, prompting a reassessment of his life up until this point. Serval observed a distant gaze in his eyes, and by now it was evident that this deeply troubled her younger brother.

"Listen, Gepard," her tone softened greatly from before, "There's nothing wrong with you. If you need any help, you know you can always count on me. Even if it is about girls." She smiled, giving him a pat on the back. 

Gepard smiled and expressed his gratitude, then stepped out of the workshop to endure yet another round of patrols. Despite the abundance of heaters scattered around, the air felt noticeably chillier. Maybe this is what it feels like when you suddenly realize the emptiness inside? No, now he's just being overdramatic. It's really not that bad…

In the weeks that followed, Gepard found himself paying closer attention to his soldiers’ banter. They often talked about their lovers, or shared tales of their nights out trying to charm attractive women. It puzzled Gepard that people could pursue courtship simply for… Enjoyment? Without the intention of marriage? However, he remained too reserved to participate in those conversations. It wasn't rare for him to overhear his name being mentioned, followed by "Nah, he wouldn't be interested in joining us." 

It stung a little. Even his own soldiers don’t see him as someone who could loosen up and have a good time. They believed he was too detached to truly enjoy their company… Damn, no friends, no lover. Gepard really is married to his own job at this point. Little did he know that his life wouldn't be so bland forever. On this particular day he would cross paths with an ordinary girl from Belobog, destined to change his perspective. 

The meeting was awfully unceremonious. Gepard, carrying out his usual patrol duties, was stationed in the town. Just as he had reached the bottom of the steps of Qlipoth Fort, the sound of rapid footsteps grew nearer. Everything happened so fast that he barely had time to process it. Suddenly, a girl sprinted around the corner, clutching a stack of papers and a brown bag tightly to her chest. Before she even noticed Gepard’s presence, it was already too late…

The air filled with the fluttering of scattered papers, accompanied by the sound of vegetables hitting the cold stone ground. In the chaos, her head collided with Gepard’s armored chest piece (this was a very dangerous garment, in hindsight), emitting a resounding clang. A startled shriek escaped her lips. Reacting swiftly, Gepard managed to catch her before she could tumble to the ground. However, her belongings were lost, whisked away by the wind.

"Ooowwww…" she groaned, her hand tenderly rubbing the fresh red bruise on her forehead. "Watch where you're g…" Her words trailed off as her gaze traveled upward, meeting his face. Oh no. She found herself instantly recoiling, attempting to distance herself from the imposing figure of the tall Captain.

"I-I'm so sorry, Captain! I didn't see you, I... uhm… I mean, I didn't mean to!" Her apologies poured forth like a frantic stream, falling from her mouth like a waterfall. The Captain’s silence only made her panic more, and the firm grip on her arm indicated that the situation might not bode well.

But he wasn't upset, no not at all! In fact, he was so captivated by her beauty that he barely registered what was going on around him. Her words entered one ear, and exited the other. His gaze remained fixed on her eyes, marveling at how they shone like pure geomarrow crystals. The sun reflected off the snow in her hair like tiny diamonds, framing her face in a heavenly glow. But then his eyes landed on the red bruise on her forehead, shattering the idyllic dream he had momentarily found himself caught in.

"M-My apologies," he stuttered, his typically unwavering demeanor momentarily shaken, "You're injured. Please allow me to escort you to the clinic." 

"Huh? What?" She reached up to touch her head and felt warmth bloom under her fingertips, accompanied by a slight stinging sensation. Her hand came away with a faint crimson stain.

"It's just a graze, no need to worry about me," she insisted, stepping back from the Captain's hold. But it wasn't just a graze, it really hurt! And the longer she spent out of his support, the more wobbly she felt on her own feet. Sensing her instability, Gepard swiftly wrapped an arm around her shoulder, preventing her from stumbling again. His sturdy hold on her stood in stark contrast to the mushy feeling swelling within his chest.

"We should really get you to a doctor," he began, tone tinged with a hint of worry. She no longer had the strength to protest, the pounding headache alone was overwhelming enough.

They were both silent for the remainder of the walk, neither having something constructive to say to the other. When Gepard handed her over to the doctor, he disappeared without a trace. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of rudeness in his sudden departure. He didn’t even give her a chance to express her gratitude for his understanding, fearing she might have been reprimanded for lack of civility. Well, he was probably a busy man. She couldn’t expect someone of his stature to care about someone as insignificant as her, right? 

But right now, Gepard was desperate to quiet the racing of his heart. His knees felt weak, as if they were made of jelly, while he struggled to look normal and composed as he exited the clinic. But who was he kidding? The sweat on his brow and his burning ears were a dead giveaway to his current emotional state. He could only beg the Aeons that no one took notice of his stupor. What was he supposed to do again? Patrols? Yes, patrols. He needed to get back to work.

Throughout the remainder of the day, Gepard found it increasingly difficult to maintain focus on his duties. The telltale signs of his distraction did not go unnoticed by his soldiers. They observed the annoyed bounce of his leg as he hurriedly completed his paperwork, his mind clearly preoccupied. No one dared speak to the Captain, silently acknowledging the departure from his usual composed demeanor.

The soldiers, witnessing his uncharacteristic behavior and urgency behind his actions, couldn't help but speculate and gossip amongst themselves. Some would interpret his distraction as a sign of work-related stress or pressing family matters. Others would suspect something entirely different, an infatuation that had captivated their usually composed Captain. 

Without lingering a moment longer than necessary, Gepard promptly left his post and made his way to Serval’s workshop. Each step he took amplified the beating of butterfly wings in his chest, the sensation bordering on discomfort. It seemed to knock the air from his lungs whenever he tried to articulate his thoughts.

"It happened," he tells her bluntly. 

"What? What happened?" Serval shook him by the shoulders, her voice filled with urgency. "Gepard, you're gonna have to give me more than that!"

this was meant 2 be sum quick filler but i got rlly invested in it... my style feels more formal but mby tht's bc i jus finished studying. am a lil braindead, had to take a break from the hardy-weinberg equation and do smth productive. no more broad sense heritability, only geppie ♥︎

[rdng1230]

Your post has me desperately needing a bucktommy/saltommy edit to mitski’s washing machine heart but continuing on because ✨pain✨

Anyways because i need more angst do you think sal ever thinks about that night and wishes he had stayed. Had had the courage to whisper words in the daylight instead of moon light. Do you think he’s happy for Tommy when he sees him with Buck but goes home and brings out the old whiskey bottle because he cant stand to look in the mirror because he’s scared what might stare back at him, scared to accept both of them moved on but a part of them both will always be tangled under those sheets under a night sky and lost promises.

(Honestly i gotta quit getting drunk and writing shit at 1:30 in the morning ignore this if ya want to)

ya know I wish I had the patience to become a good video editor, but I honestly fear the monster I would become. I am also chronically bad at remembering song names so I had to Spotify that one real quick and as soon as that little electronic beat came on I was like “oh fuck it’s THAT ONE” I see you anon, I see your vision.

on to the actual answer. There’s two nights you could be talking about so I guess we’re doing double trouble angst on this fine evenin’

Toxic Sal Tommy version with the bad call and the bottoming and the being a fucker afterwards? I think that version of Sal is a lot more terrified of the idea of wanting to be taken care of rather than letting tommy love him specifically. And also just the fear of being truly known, no cocky arrogant mask, no hierarchy, just a guy who is *deeply* affected by the horrors of his job and for one night let’s those wounds be seen. I don’t think this version of Sal truly loved Tommy, I think he profoundly trusted tommy, and that scared the shit out of him which is why he lashed out and ended it. I don’t think seeing Buck and Tommy together specifically would affect him. I think just seeing Tommy as he is now, such an open person who’s honest and doesn’t hide, I think that’s what would haunt Sal the most. I also think his behavior is a repetitive pattern. It’s a matter of 2 steps forward 3 steps back. He finds someone he can bond with, eventually builds a trust, let’s them in for the briefest of encounters, and blows it up again. Rinse lather repeat.

ok doomed lovers Saltommy? Dear god. I think so much of his decision to go into Tommy’s room that night is wrapped up in about 10 layers of guilt at probie’s death, shame at wanting comfort for something he thinks he caused, desire because that pounding in his chest that happens only around Tommy has become undeniable, and just wanting someone there to share the grief with. And even with the crushing tide of all those negative emotions, being in Tommy’s arms for the first time is still one of the best nights of his life.

But the rest of their relationship? That’s the part he truly aches over. He knows the way things ended hurt Tommy deeply, and all the hurt was avoidable if Sal had just admitted his own cowardice, that he knew he was going to hold Tommy back and that it was for the best he leave Sal behind. But instead he let that resentment of Tommy’s bravery build up inside him and made Tommy feel like he was doing something wrong or that Sal just didn’t love him. He used Bobby, a man he knew deep down was right to call him out, to place himself in exile, finally giving Tommy the freedom Sal couldn’t bear to give him himself.

when he sees the picture in the paper he spends the day letting himself cry in a way he never has before. He cries for the dead probie, he cries for all the people he hurt because he couldn’t stand their vulnerabilities, he cries because he knows the man he loves is truly lost to him. He genuinely does feel better after letting it all out and he ends up resolving himself that even though they’d never be together, he should have the decency to tell Tommy it was never his fault, and that all those things he’d said when their romantic relationship ended were completely untrue. so he writes that down in a letter. Tommy’s moved since they cut contact, so he decides to deliver the letter to harbor station in person.

when he gets there he’s surprised to see the 118 kid clearly bringing Tommy lunch. Sal stands just out of sight but he catches their conversation. He realizes Evan Buckley is already fixing all the pieces of Tommy’s heart that Sal broke. And that knowledge makes Sal happier and sadder than anything else ever has.

[sakura-scum]

₊˚⊹ open arms ⊹˚₊

✿ a/n: i don't ever really post original content on here so whaddup :p unedited/not proofread af, but satosugu has been eating me alive and i needed to post this somehwere bc feels? heavily inspired by sza, i can't stop listening to this song omfg :0

✿ summary: angsty stsg analysis from gojo's pov

✿ w/c: ~1.5k words

✿ warning: anime + manga spoilers for jjk 0 + hidden inventory (ish) || implied sex? right off the bat tho lol, loss, grief, possible swearing :p 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"This was your first time, wasn't it?"

"I've already told you that."

"Hah... no. This was your first time being truly open with someone, hm?"

I'll never forget the way he delicately brushed the strands of hair stuck to my forehead. It was as though he held all the tenderness and adoration in the world for me.

"What do you mean? I'm always open?" My voice cracked, betraying the facade of strength I tried to uphold.

"The way you said that, as if it were a question, says it all." His observation felt like a dagger twisting in my heart, a painful acknowledgment of how right he was. 

I wince as he gently taps my cheek, coaxing me to meet his gaze. Suddenly, I'm hesitant to look into his eyes, afraid of further truth I may uncover there.

Eventually, when I did, I was reminded why I was here in the first place. Warm brown eyes that felt like home now held a distance I couldn’t bridge. The first gaze that could accept me for who I was. He can see right through my flaws. Here, I never had to pretend to be perfect. He made perfectionism feel like a distant dream.

"Stop overthinking. I hate it when you do that."

"Sorry," was all I could muster, my voice barely a whisper in the silence that lingered between us.

He smirks at me before rolling over onto his side. I remain fixed in the same position, staring at the ceiling, as if he were still hovering over me. Somehow, the weight of his absence felt heavier than his presence ever did.

"Thank you,” I whispered into the darkness, like a plea for forgiveness that would never be answered.

.     .     .

As the silence envelops us, I feel a surge of emotions rising within me. It's strange how words can sometimes fail to capture the depth of what we feel. But with him, it felt like there was an unspoken understanding; a connection that transcends mere conversation.

With a gentle sigh, I shift closer to him, seeking solace in his presence. His arm instinctively wraps around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. In his embrace, I find comfort, a sense of security that I've longed for.

I close my eyes, allowing myself to bask in the warmth of his embrace. It's in moments like these that I realize how much I've come to rely on him, and how empty my world would be without him. It was as if his presence had become a sanctuary in the chaos of my life.

After that day, I began to realize my own lack of transparency. Was I avoiding the scrutiny of others, or fleeing from myself? What destination was I so desperately seeking, and why? I’ve never been a lonely person, or at least that is what I had convinced myself. I’ve always been surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones. It was a fulfilling life, wasn’t it? Meeting you unearthed a loneliness rooted deep within me. 

 Every bad day, every terrible moment, I found myself back in that same special spot, searching for solace in the echoes of our past. Even if I didn’t voice my concerns, you always greeted me, arms open wide, like my head had a reserved spot on your chest where I could close my eyes and relinquish myself to the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

Before we crossed paths, I had never pondered these questions, content to drift through life to fulfill what I had been told was my purpose. But you redefined that purpose. Suddenly, I felt compelled to cease running, not from myself or others.  When did I become so reliant on you? Why was I now running from you and your open embrace? I fled towards the places steeped in damage and shame. Had I finally found the courage to look within? 

The questions you provoked within me felt like shards of a shattered mirror, reflecting back a distorted image of a soul struggling to find a place in a world that no longer made sense.

The solace I sought in you blinded me to the truth: you were the fractured mirror all along.

But how could I notice when I was so self-absorbed? Perhaps if I could mend the fragments of the ruins of my mind, a haunted house of mirrors, I could in turn help fix you. Days blurred together as I found myself gazing into my own reflection, contemplating how I might reach out to you, openly trying to reach the dark and shaded depths of your mind. In my blurred vision, perhaps I overlooked just how much you truly needed me. Fixing you felt like a cruel illusion, a fantasy born from desperation and despair.

Checking on you was not nearly enough. It just felt like a feeble attempt to bridge what now separated us. How could I convey the love you give to me so effortlessly? Did you truly grasp the depth of my feelings? 

 I said those three words so often, but you never had to because your actions spoke louder than any declaration. How did you effortlessly escape speaking in moments like these, when every word you uttered started to feel like a knife to the heart? What was silencing you? Have you ever even uttered those words to me? I can’t recall a time you did. 

The more I delved into self-improvement, the more distance was created between us. Was I on the wrong path? Did my self-loathing somehow bind him to me? I’d gladly revert to the dark depths of hating myself if it would draw him closer. Even now, though, that felt like a hollow promise to keep you from walking away.

My insecurities, the void in my heart… it gave you a purpose, didn’t it? I’d gladly embrace that version of myself if it meant I could stay by your side. I yearn for the comfort of residing in your arms once more. So I mirrored your actions: I waited for you with open arms. 

Why didn’t you approach me as eagerly as I had once approached you?

The day I found out about what you did, I felt more angry at myself than I did you. It felt like a painful acknowledgment of my own complicity in our downfall. I blamed myself for letting things deteriorate to this point. Whether or not I chose to adapt that feeling of self-hatred willingly, it seemed to return on its own accord. 

Did you choose to walk away or did my ignorance push you to that point? 

It’s like I couldn’t force myself to care about your actions; I just had to know if you were okay. I’m hopelessly devoted to you. Is this what love does to you? Is this how it’s supposed to feel? Please tell me it's love. I know you’ve always been hesitant to admit it, but I need to hear it from you. 

I searched endlessly until I found you. Amidst a crowd of faces blending together, none of them could hold a candle to you. My world was monotonous without you, and there you were like the sun in a valley of stars. You always swore you were the moon and that couldn’t be more false in my mind. Can’t you see my whole world revolved around you? 

I wanted answers. No, that’s not enough, I wanted to understand you. I needed to understand the depth of your pain and suffering, like a desperate plea for absolution in the face of our own insecurities and shortcomings. Why couldn’t I just open up to you? I wanted to tell you everything. You knew me inside and out and yet I couldn’t claim the same about you. My mind felt like a treasure you delicately unwrapped, cherishing every discovery. Yet, my impatience drove me to want to tear into your mind, to uncover all the secrets I endlessly sought. 

Where did you vanish to? What happened to us? Was I just another casualty in your evolving quest for power and control?  Did I ever truly know you? Who are you, really? 

I promise I didn’t intentionally self-isolate. That’s just what happens when you’re in love, right? My life was always this lonely, or that's at least how I remember things because my life only had meaning when you came into it. 

I guess I have to let you go. 

Memories spilled through the gaps of my fingers like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy. The more I tried to hold on to them, the more difficult they became to remember.

Retrospectively, I never changed myself. I’m that same broken teen I once was. You just brought perspective and meaning to my life, a debt I could never repay.  I never learned to be open or expressive. I just learned to endlessly drift with echoes because I couldn’t say goodbye.

At least I got to hold onto your lifeless form with open arms. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

✿ a/n: no, i won't be paying for anyone's therapy ;-;  comments n' feedback always appreciated! thanks so much for reading! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[iris-in-the-rain]

Stede's father's associate is getting married and his father has made him come to the wedding. As long as he behaves and doesn't bring shame on the family. Stede tries to put his foot down about not going, but when that doesn't work he insists on bringing his best friend, Ed Teach. Bonnet Sr hates him, but eventually relents, but warns Stede that if either him and Ed do anything that embarreses him, there'll be hell to pay.

Stede is worried, but Ed promises him everything will be okay. The wedding takes place at a picturesque resort, with a lake and woods around it. If anything happens, Ed says, we will stage an escape.

'Stede, trust me. It'll be okay.'

And Stede does trust him.

The wedding goes okay, but afterwards, Bonnet Sr tries to parade Stede around, taking him away from Ed. Stede is becoming increasingly unhappy and uncomfortable, so when he temporarily breaks off from his father's company, Ed pounces, and they go outside.

They wander into the early night, sun just setting and they just keep walking. Stede is silent. Ed turns to him.

'Hey, you okay?'

Stede lets out a shaky breath.

'I hate it, Ed. I hate it.'

Ed takes his hand and gives it a sqeeze, silently urging him to continue.

'I hate this job, all of it. He parades me around like I'm some kind of a trophy, and not even a good one at that. He thinks I want the company, but he doesn't accept me as I am. He just wants me because I'm his only son, but he never wanted me, you know?' Ed knows very well. He's quite familiar with elder Bonnet's cruel ways.

'I don't know what to do, Ed!' Stede's eyes start to glisten.

'I know, Stede. I know. I'm on your side, always. You know that, right?'

That earns him a timid smile.

'I just wish I was better at this.' Stede sighs into his hand, the other one still clasped with Ed's.

'You are better. At this. Than this. I know you'll figure it out. Stede Bonnet is the best guy I know!'

Stede laughs then sobers again.

'Thank you for coming with me. You didn't have to. I'm sorry he's such an ass to you.'

'Stede, it's okay. I wanted to come with you. And we got some free food and booze out of it!'

They keep walking, when Stede suddenly stops. Ed follows suit and then they're staring at a big trampoline. Ed raises his eyebrows.

photo: mine

'Yeah?'

Stede smiles wistfully.

'You know, I always wanted to. I saw one once when I was a child. I really wanted to go on it, but my father slapped me and said that no son of his would behave in such a way. That it's unbecoming. God knows what he'd say now.'

Ed grins.

'Come on then!'

Stede stares back in disbelief.

'Ed, we can't!'

'Why not?'

'I'm... it's... I'm not...'

'Did you ever end up going on one?'

'Well no...'

'We're doing it, come on!'

Ed's smile is so earnest now that Stede just can't say no to him. He never could. He lets himself be pulled towards the trampoline and they both climb in, wobbling and Stede giggles, as he barely avoids toppling over and pulling Ed with him. His best friend looks at him with unbridled joy in his eyes and Stede knows his own face reflects the same.

'Ready?'

Stede grabs Ed's other hand and they stand facing each other.

'Now I am.'

They start jumping, slowly at first, until Stede feels his legs lifting him higher and higher and Ed's hair frame his face as he laughs and Stede laughs, too and he's never felt so happy and so free and he knows that he doesn't want to do this, any of this, without Ed.

And he needs to tell him.

He slows down, but the imbalance pulls him to the bottom of the trampoline and Ed falls with him. Then Stede is on his back and looking into the night sky, face flushed and breathing hard and next to him Ed is grinning.

'This was so fun!'

'Right??' Ed turns to him and they just look at each other for a few moments, as they catch their breath.

'Happy looks good on you, you know'

Stede rolls over to face him, and then Ed leans in, and Stede's eyes flutter closed, but then some loud whooping noises from the direction of the wedding venue startle them both. Ed clears his throat and starts to pull away, the joy on his face fading, and no, Stede can't have that. He came here against his better judgement, unhappy and quite honestly, terrified. And then Ed, his lovely, patient best friend, Ed, came with him and made things okay.

And he loves him. Oh, he loves him! Here he is, 2 months until his 46th birthday, wearing a tux, lying on a trampoline in the middle of nowhere, and he's never had more fun in his life. All because of the man next to him. He reaches his hand up to Ed's cheek and gently scratches through his beard.

'Hey'

Ed smiles.

'Hey'

'I think I want to do more of what makes Stede happy.'

Ed's voice drops to a whisper.

'And what makes Stede happy?'

The kiss is gentle, almost a ghost of a kiss, but it feels like coming home, like an exhale, a relief that you're finally okay. Like a promise of tomorrow that you want to be a part of.

Ed is very much okay with that answer.

[kairithemang0]

Tell me about trans Curt please?? How did his mother react? Does she know even? Same with Cynthia. And how was his career at the beginning? Was he at least masc presenting when he met Owen? (If not... how did Owen find out?)

OHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH

Ok so I think his mom was. Mostly supportive? She was sorta confused on it and she didn’t really talk about it, kinda avoided the topic of it while she tried to figure out how to go about the information of Curt being trans

She’s still not fully sure of how to talk to him about it, but she calls him Curt and their relationship is still strong. Mama Mega will love Curt no matter what, she loves him completely unconditionally even if she may not understand him. If he came out to her in canon saf as gay, she'd still certainly love him even if she didn't understand why he was gay, she just wants what's best for him. That's her only goal, it's always been to just make him happy, to keep food on the table for the both of them. She loves her son and just wants him to be happy, it's why she let him be a spy in the first place, she hoped this would bring him joy.

Cynthia just didn't care. She said "ok cool" and then never brought it up again. I think by the time he knew her, he was already out to his mom. He never came out to anyone else, he was already masc presenting when he joined the agency but he wanted her to know just in case. She really didn't care though, never told anyone and they moved on with their lives.

His career was always a little awkward. There was this constant weight over his head of people finding out he was trans, he was always super quiet about the fact he wasn't born male, it's partially why he wants to be this big famous suave spy. He's so worried that if he's not he'll get outed in some way, he won't feel as masculine

Curt's relationship with his gender definitely isn't in any way healthy. I think when he told Owen (will certainly be talking about this later put a pin in this) he made sure to tell Owen that he was a man and that he always was because he's so physically uncomfortable in his own skin most of the time. Post top surgery he hates his chest scars, they're a permanent reminder that to him he was born wrong. He resents them, he resents his childhood and living so long as someone he's not. He feels like he wasted his time trying to fit into this feminine box he couldn't fit into but whenever he felt slightly feminine even post transition, he felt like a fraud.

His view of gender is very binary. He lives by a "girl = pink" "boy = blue" mentality that makes him hate himself because he definitely has a slightly feminine side that he's repressed, and it negatively affects his mental health. He's also. Probably sexist. Just gonna say that in this he's definitely a little sexist

Alright, finally time to get back to Owen. I think Curt told Owen he was trans on their first night together, Owen attempted to bring his shirt over his head and Curt pushed his hands back down because he didn't want Owen to see his chest scars (im sorry im bringing up the scars again i can't look at him and think he didn't despise them). Owen assumes they're like every other scar, ones they get on missions. Curt tells Owen he's trans, and Owen's just a little taken aback by this, but nods his head and respects Curt's boundaries. Their night continues as normal, quietly Curt's happy Owen didn't bring it up, Curt hates talking about it. It's one of those conversation topics that makes him feel so physically ill until he breaks open a bottle of whiskey and passes out on the floor of his apartment

Owen asks him about it the next morning, asks if Curt wants to talk about it. Curt tells him he doesn't want to. Owen says that's fine. Over time Curt tells him more about his transition as he becomes more comfortable with Owen. Owen doesn't cut him off or shame him, he just listens and lets Curt talk. It feels so nice to not get asked constant questions, they simply come up and they move on. They only talk about it when Curt wants to talk about it, and Owen listens, gives his input when it feels right to, and then he doesn't bring it up again. To Owen, Curt will always just be Curt. No matter what his old name was or what he was born as, it's always just Curt

Sorry this is long I have so many thoughts on him especially his relationship with Owen though because through all their many. many problems, Curt being trans is never one of them, Owen never sees him as any less of a man and to Curt that brings him more joy than anything because it's never a matter of "do you hate me because i'm trans?"

[biniminisblog]

Good Boy Gone Bad | Lee Felix SMAU

chapter seven

word count: 790

“Wow,”

taking in the view, you never realised how beautiful seoul looked until now. the bright lights of the buildings and cars perfectly illuminate the dark sky and the park you were currently in. the peacefulness of the area makes you feel at ease, like you had no problems at all.

next to you was felix, who was gazing at you the whole time while you were busy admiring the scenery. the more he looks at you, the clearer his feelings for you get, and it’s starting to scare him. he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, but he can’t help it when you just look so beautiful under the night sky. when you finally look back at him, the whole world stops and his only focus is you and you alone.

“this is beautiful, felix. i never thought to visit the park this late at night, but after this i might have to come by more often.” you remark, and felix breaks eye contact with you to finally look at the view he has been used to seeing. it seems that after your comment though, the scenery starts to bring sparks to him again, and he begins to realise how down bad he really is for you.

“mhm, i go here late at night whenever i have a rough time at home, you probably heard about my parents already so i’ll just spare you the details.” felix shrugs and you nod, thinking back to what somi had mentioned weeks ago about his parents. he must’ve been really pressured to not only be good at everything, but also be an angel to everyone, and you start to feel bad about the whole blackmailing situation.

“is that why you started smoking?”

“part of it, yes, but i also enjoy the feeling. i don’t smoke anymore if you're wondering, the last time was when you caught me.” at the mention of that, you lower your head and cover your face in shame.

“i’m really sorry about blackmailing you. if it makes you feel better, i deleted the photo even before you agreed to tutor me so you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

suddenly remembering the predicament he had just weeks prior to this, he was shocked to find out you never intended to leak the photo in the first place. it made him resent the people who wronged you even more. seeing you feel remorse over what you’ve done urged him to reassure and comfort you.

“hey, it’s alright, don’t feel bad about it. if i were you i probably would’ve done the same, and to be honest i forgot the photo even existed in the first place,” you remove your hands from your face and look up at felix, only to see that his face is mere inches away from your own. you start to become flustered, however you don’t pull away.

“really? then have you been in love with me this whole time?” you tease, a smile grazing your features. felix’s eyes dart down to your pink lips, tempting him to kiss it.

“who knows? maybe it’s the other way around since you’ve blackmailed me just to hang out with me.” your faces get closer, and you both feel the ghost of your lips as it almost touches.

“are you flirting with me, felix?” his hands start touching your arms.

“you started it.” you dart your eyes towards his lips.

“well, did it work?” his eyes do the same.

“i think you know the answer to that.” when you were about to give in, your phone suddenly interrupts the moment.

in a split second, you both pull away as if you were burned. felix looks anywhere but you while awkwardly playing with his rings, and you check the caller to see it was somi, who probably called to congratulate you and ask where you were. you clear your throat awkwardly before glancing at felix who was still avoiding your gaze.

“uhm, so i have to go now. i actually still have a lot of stuff to do and somi just called so yeah…” you drag out the last word, fumbling with your phone, and felix nods his head.

“let me take you home,” felix starts to pick up your things but you hurriedly retract his hands. he finally looks at you, a flash of what seemed like hurt and confusion seen in his eyes, but you ignore it.

“oh no! it’s totally fine, somi will pick me up so don’t worry about it.” you lie, and and you think felix knows, but he doesn’t argue with you.

“ok, but be safe and message me when you get home!”

“i will!” you know you won’t but you still say so anyway.

synopsis: felix gets caught smoking by you, the school’s regina george, and gets blackmailed to help you pass chemistry in exchange for keeping his secret.

previous chapter _ next chapter

masterlist

taglist

@marcillfll @tfshouldidohere @veryjeongintxtkid @skzcollision @facelesswrittes @syuuji @stvrfir3 @6demonica9

a/n: this was supposed to be in chapter six but i felt like it was too long so i separated it. soo this is like the continuation of chapter six!

[trashyreptilian]

TW: Body horror and unsettling faces.

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Biography (long read):

-General Info-

Full Name: Him Age: His species don't age. Instead, being adult already as they're formed. Existed since 1978. Height: 8'0'' ft Gender: Male Sex: Sexless Species: Wrath alternate ("Flawed Impersonator") Homeplace: Mandela County, Wisconsin (US) Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Panromantic Asexual

-Other Info-

Personality?: Rejected as an outcast from early on in its life, looked down by its species. He generally tries to avoid attention and interactions with other alternates. However, due to its very hostile and self-hating nature, sometimes it can't help but to get into fights. Whether they'd be caused by others, or desperately seeking out some relief from its own troubled mind. This behavior has obviously caused a bit of a reputation for how violent it is. Him's uncaring on the matter, instead reasoning that the killings are in self-defense and a sort of "justice" for all the human lives its kind have taken away. It shows far more sympathy towards humans, aware of how fragile and complex they are. Constantly fascinated by their way of living and thinking. Gained a lot of knowledge about human history and other random topics. With its closest relationship being with a human, it has a soft side as well. Although having poor management of its negative emotions, it usually represses them for his close ones. It couldn't bear to unload its burden onto someone he cares for. Him feels less shame in expressing positive feelings. By no means he's overly expressive, but he knows how to be gentle. Oftentimes displaying casual gestures of care and a willingness to spend time with a close beloved if asked.

Thinks Before Acting?: In a neutral state, sure. Sadly, that can fly right out the window once it's starting to become agitated. Blind rage can easily take a hold of it, making it impulsively lash out or spew out some truly heinous words that it may or may not regret later.

Positive Traits?: Selfless, inquisitive, caring, persistent, attentive and loyal.

Negative Traits?: Impatient, self-loathing, aggressive, over-protective, stubborn and vindictive.

Way Of Speaking?: Only speaks fluent English and with no noticeable accent in its speech. His voice is low and gravelly, and stays at a calm tone. Makes it more intimidating without even raising its voice. But when he does, it sounds more demonic with constant inhumane growling interrupting while trying to talk. (Headcanon voice: https://youtu.be/-xOzSjhK9W0?t=198)

Occupation?: Doesn't have a human profession, he'd rather steal cash and goods if absolutely needed. Neither does it have any alternate tasks, or anything else alike. Though unless, you consider being the surrogate father and only caretaker of a young adult, a job by itself. Then yes, it still has his hands full with parental responsibilities.

Powers/Skills?: Starting with his most basic skill set, which is also common within its species. At a decent level, it can mimic other people's voices with minor slip ups and defects for a certain amount of time. Has night vision and is capable of body alteration too. Sees everything in pitch black places, and fully able to contort and twist its body in freakishly vile ways. Surface adhesion is another one to mention, free to move around walls and ceilings without the risk of falling. A better advanced ability it knows is matter manipulation. What that means is that he can change his entire being into black fog-like smoke. It may reshape its size or form for certain situations. Him uses that to sneak around and enter any building it wants. Moving onto its distinct skills, which are seen amongst wrath alternates. Its physical strength is greater than many other flawed impersonators. Sometimes even surpassing some doppelgangers, depending on what sin they're made from. To add, his senses are way more overdeveloped. In this case, his sense of smell is especially heightened.

Hobbies?: Most beloved pastime is reading books, there's no topping that. Already in its first week of living, it grew a passionate fondness for human literature. Since then it's been near impossible to see it without a book in its hands. Favorite genres are history and biology, texts that explore factual knowledge are its go-to. Given the chance, it'll go on a lengthy monologue about a random topic it happened to read recently. Happens to like board games too, mostly influenced by his son. Though, it prefers simple card games as they cause less frustration. One hobby, that might be a bit unexpected from it, is teaching his cat tricks. Here's some context. If there was something to rival its love for books, it'd be felines. Whether it's big felines or tiny domesticated ones, he loves them all. An unusual fixation to say the least. It had waited long until it could get its hands on a cat. When finally given one, it quickly started to care for her. Then soon started with basic behavior training but later moved on with teaching tricks. He also likes to roam the area around its home. While it'd rather spend its time inside like a stay-at-home dad, it won't shy away from exploring places. It'll hide itself and observe from a distance if there's people or too many alternates.

Habits?: Frequently smokes, nearly every day. Sounds bad but since he's an alternate, there's no consequences. Likes the "feel" of it, and unironically loves the smell. When experiencing some kind of really bad stress or anxiety, it roughly bites its own skin. More precisely, its hands. There's been moments where he almost bit a finger off. However, the worst tendency it has is the way he handles his negative emotions. It'll often choose to bottle anything up and deal with it alone. It'll lie or change the subject when anyone brings up its issues. In return, it all creates a sort of vicious cycle where it bottles up its feelings, refuses to handle them in a healthy manner, violent conflicts ensue against random alternates to relieve itself, and then acts like nothing happened as if it's moving on.

Relationships?: As mentioned before, its closest relationship is with a human. And that, being Mark Heathcliff. Him has known them for a long time, first starting interaction when he was very young. From that point on, it took the role of a father figure and had to learn how to take care of a human child. In the early years, it was conflicted with its actions. Questioning if what it did was right. But came to terms with itself and stuck with its decision to care for a child. Interacting with a human has pretty much influenced it in the ways it thinks. While nowhere near a perfect parent, it clearly deeply loves Mark and is overprotective of them. He has given it a sense of purpose for its existence, it highly values that. They've formed a strong familial bond and friendship. Both are also secretive of this relationship, for the sake of their own safety and to not attract unwanted attention. They live together as outcasts, surviving however they can. Trying to make the best out of their lives. There's another human, Cesar Torres. Them and Mark are very close friends, eventually he had to meet Him. First encounter was terrible due to unfortunate circumstances. Saving Cesar from their own impersonator, Him wasn't seen in its friendliest state. Took a while for either of them to talk with one another. Him let Cesar approach it at his own pace and stayed dismissive whenever they happened to be in the same room. Once they actually manage to strike up a meaningful conversation, things get easier as Cesar feels more comfortable. Both strike up a friendship with their deep love for literature. Cesar couldn't help but introduce it to musicals and everything else related to theater. As time passes, getting to know each other more and sharing activities together, Cesar is seen as just another family member to Him.

Moving away from humans. Xanthan (a theraangel) was someone Him remained unaware of until Mark introduced it about them. It had no idea he was secretly talking to them. As an alternate, it had believed that angels were long extinct because of the overlord's indoctrination. First meeting went terribly to make it short. Him was skeptical towards their suggested idea of redemption. Keeping a hostile attitude, held back from getting worse by Mark's insistence to trust the stranger. Through persistent arguing, it agreed at trying the whole redemption thing but only in exchange that Xanthan would become a guardian angel for Mark. From that point on, it stays on neutral terms. Later on, they're respectful towards each other and manage to form some kind of friendship. Him admires their way of fighting and gradually grows interested in their past as an alternate. Once they grow much closer, its feelings are a bit complicated. Though, when Xanthan confesses that he fell in love with it, it gets even more confused. With Mark's help and enough time to think it through, Him reciprocates the sentiment. Experiencing a romantic bond for the first time.

Mentioning enemies. It doesn't have any trouble with humans. Alternates typically fall into this category, ones that Him has had fights with. At least the ones who happen to survive it, can actually call themselves as its enemies. No particular rivalry with anyone. Unless, you'd count Six (a doppelganger) as one. They're not really rivals though, more or less just enemies who are aware of each other's existence. Six is definitely an opposite to Him in many ways. Serving as an example of what the impersonator could have been. Lastly, Lucifer or alternate "Gabriel". Its overlord and creator. Its disobedience wasn't looked over. The way it delayed taking out its target was one thing, but what really got them were the rumors spreading around that it had begun to care for a human child. Lucifer confronted Him merely once. Making it clear that its actions were shameful and if it caused any major protest in their plans, they'd know immediately. Since then neither have come face-to-face again. Safe to say that what they had said stuck with Him. It's not actively worshiping them, no less it still fears what the overlord’s truly capable of.

Past? (Short Version): Created and took form in the depths of Hell, in the year 1978. Him, while lacking an actual name at the time like most of its kind, was made from the sin of wrath. A well-off start for an alternate, regarded as one of the more higher ranked sins amongst them. Its time in Hell was short-lived. Soon as it gained consciousness, the first face it gazed upon was none other than Lucifer, Hell's only ruler. They wasted no time at informing the new group of fresh alternates about what they were made for. The word indoctrination fitted best to describe their speeches. Besides all the many beliefs and ideas enforced on them, one detail was clearly repeated. Which was that the human species were parasites, never meant to roam the Earth. Lucifer had all the right to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. Impersonators had one important task to complete before they could do more. It had to replace a human. When the victim gained M.A.D, it'd fully copy their identity and replace them. Him's target was no one note-worthy. Seemingly a common family man with a wife and two children, a son and daughter.

It spent a lot of its time simply stalking the victim's household. Already, it was enamored with the whole concept of "family". A sort of social group with many different dynamics at play. Everything was fascinating to watch, but it paid more attention to its victim. He definitely had a protective role. Always keeping an eye out on his kids, making sure neither got hurt. Wasn't very talkative but showed affection through his actions. He especially interacted a lot with his four year old son, Mark. The children were an interesting sight for the alternate as well. Their naivety, their playfulness and openness to loving and being loved. The quality of innocence its species didn't get to have. Him couldn't help but feel as though it too needed to protect them. It didn't understand why. It wasn't created to be a parent. All the while these complicated feelings festered, it picked up on human literature. The first book it read was about parenting, found in its target's belongings. These human written texts began influencing its way of thinking and shaping its morals. One read book turned to ten, and then thirty, and so on. It mainly focused on educational books. Grabbing at whatever it could find in the house. Him hid itself in the dust-ridden attic and tried keeping itself obscured. Things remained like that for a year. However, it had noticed something had been brewing between the parents over the months. Frequent arguments would occur and they got steadily worse. Until it all boiled down to its target leaving the house in the dead of night, never to be seen again. While worried at the fact that he failed its most crucial task, it held more concern for the two children.

The mother's mental state deteriorated further when her husband left. Which sadly resulted in one of the kids being on the receiving end of her anger. For what reason, Mark was the one to be singled out while the daughter never got abused. To go back a bit, Mark and Him had interacted before a few instances. Most were accidental but others were more intended. The boy saw the alternate as an imaginary friend by then, who happened to look like his dad a little. Giving it the name “Him”. So when the father left and the abuse started, it resulted in a pivotal decision. Him could leave the broken household and perhaps try searching for its victim, or stay for Mark. No easy choice. If it did what it truly wanted, it'd be spitting at the face of its creator, and once other alternates somehow found out it'd be rejected by its own species. Despite the fear, it decided to stay. Choosing to look after Mark by itself. A few years went by seemingly fine. Fine as it could have been for them. Of course, Him had that constant paranoia about what it was doing. Whether it should embrace or reject its paternal instincts. Its worst fear was yet to realize as Hell's overlord later caught wind of what it was up to through word of gossip. One night, as Him was put to sleep by an unknown force, it was confronted by them. Disgusted with Him's actions, Lucifer threatened that if it were to get anymore involved in delaying their plans for humanity, things for it would end quickly.

The overlord's words resided within its mind, but it continued to stay as a surrogate father to Mark. Him honestly had expected to die from that encounter but it appeared as though it merely received a harsh warning. With that event and pretty much being viewed as an outcast by its own kind, it had no other choice than to make its relationship work with young Mark. Although literally being an alternate, when Mark was old enough to know that, he was unphased. Him was no perfect parent, yet it did its best to provide all the safety and support the kid needed. Constantly learning and trying to improve its parenting as Mark grew up. Not every advice it gave was good, but it had no ill intentions. Seemed as though it all paid off when Mark turned eighteen. He immediately moved out with Him to an apartment complex. Where they continue to live out their lives together in secret.

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General rules for all of my FCs and OCs: -Please do not flat out steal the designs, inspiration is all good. -I am uncomfortable with my characters being unknowingly shipped with other people's characters. -Fanart is all well and great, as long as it isn't sexual. I'm fine with gore but please, keep my characters away from your own sexual material.