#for the first time in my life the future is not so blurry anymore

[lywell]

I kind of completely disappeared from social media a while ago (and I'm sorry about that. I just deleted everything and it wasn't the best idea) because my health was getting bad. It's a bit better but there's still a very long way to go. I'm positive though.

I logged back on twitter to see if people made some cool rhaayn art while I was gone and I saw so much drama in the end I'm glad I got out of fandoms in general now ah.

I hope I will be able to go back to creating stuff for rhaayn (my fic is not abandonned !! And there's one in progress that I hope to post someday lol) but I will stay in my little corner for sure !

And in the future I mostly want to write. I don't know what to do with art. I will never be a splash artist and I lost so much time for nothing with noctysart, but better late than never right. My artstation will stay up and I think I will post the rest of my wips. We'll see how it goes. We never really know.

See you very soon on ao3

[cissyenthusiast010155]

I am SO excited that the Mafia AU won for your Lady D fic poll and I CANNOT wait to read it!

My Little Toyslut ~MobBoss!Alcina Dimitrescu xFem Spy!Traitor!Reader (Mafia AU)

Summary— The infamous, mob boss Lady D finds out she had a traitor in her midst. What will she do when she finds out it’s Reader, one of her closest and most trusted advisors…? Anon Response— Hi hi hi anon!! I am so glad to hear how much you look forward to my Alcina!MafiaAU fics! Here is another one, it’s another one shot (doesn’t take place in the same plotline as the first), but it’s still an Alcina!MafiaAU fic. Hope you enjoy! ♥️

Link to First Alcina!Mafia Fic (;

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, wee bit of angst, eating out (oral sex), implied smut, kissing, teasing, degradation, light torture themes, light hate sex theme, light non-con theme, implied overstimulation, fear, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You were swaying in the air, your wrists bound by tight rope which in turn was hung around a rusty ceiling beam. Your head was ringing and your vision was blurry as you began to wake up. Part of you vision was clouded from your dried up blood, a consequence of having been hit in the head. That's how you had lost consciousness.

You tried to wiggle at your restraints, but it seemed that the more you fought, the tighter the rope pulled against your sensitive and now raw wrists. In dismay, you turned your attention to the room around you, trying to memorize and remember every detail as if your life depended on it.

Realistically, it probably did. The most infamous, powerful boss in the city had found out you were a spy, undercover for the Agency. You had spent years infiltrating Lady Dimitrescu's inner circle of corruption. It had taken immense push and pull over the years to gain her trust. And then another fucking idiot of a mob boss had found your name out, and in spite and seek for vengeance, he had given you up. One of Lady D's closest advisors... He wanted to watch her empire crumble, and you were his choice of weapon.

You were torn from your thoughts as the only door in the room opened and two goons entered, followed by none other than Lady D. The two men gave you sleazy grins as they stalked towards you, but Dimitrescu had other ideas...

"Leave us."

The goons turned around with grumbles, but listened as they left the falling apart room, slamming the door behind them. Lady D's gaze then turned towards you. Your breathing was shallow and you lowered your head and gaze in turn. She slowly stalked towards you, making the hairs in the back of your neck bristle with pure fear. You were trembling, hanging mess by the time was right in front of you, towering over your hanging frame.

"I must say I was... surprised when it was your name that came up in my recent meeting..." She purred warily.

You still kept your head down and did not meet the woman's gaze. You wouldn't dare. Afterall, you'd seen her slaughter men for far less. When you made no response, Alcina cocked her brow in satisfaction and she continued.

"I must admit... You had me fooled. Not many people can say that... not many who are alive anyway..." Alcina hummed, as her claws ran up from your cheeks down to your feet.

You shuttered at the touch, closing your eyes and preparing to feel the pain of being slashed to bits. But instead, you heard the sound of her claws retracting. And then you felt her stern hand on your chin, roughly forcing your head and gaze up to meet hers. You fought against the restraints and her hold, but to no avail, they were both far stronger and far more resolved.

"Look at me, Draga!" She sneered.

Your meek gaze met the powerful woman's. You bit your lip and tried not to cry or shake too violently. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, as if she had been crying.

"I invited you into my empire, into my bed... and this is how you repay me...??" Alcina jeered.

You couldn't stop the tears that came pouring down your face anymore. They flowed all the way down to Alcina's fingers, where she curtly would wipe them away without another word about it.

"I... I-- I'm sorry--" you stammered, your eyes looking around frantically while trying to make sense of what she wanted from you.

For a mere moment, you saw the rawness of hurt flash across the woman’s facade. But it was quickly replaced with rageful apathy.

Before you could comprehend what was happening, she dropped your head and sliced something above you with her razor sharp claws. Your limp, trembling body hit the cement ground with a crack!. You were still bound by the wrists, but you were no longer hanging from the ceiling.

In one swift move, the lady grabbed you by the wrists and pushed you up against the dirty wall, so that your were outstretched from her one hand tight hold on your wrists, your toes barely touching the floor.

You winced, letting out a guttural and painful groan, and tore your head to the side, screwing your eyes shut tight. You could feel the woman’s heavy, hot breath against your neck. Her face was right up in your personal space.

You waited for your doom with bated breath, tears still running down your cheeks with no plan to stop anytime soon. But instead of doom, you suddenly felt Alcina’s hot mouth on your neck. Her slippery tongue licked and irritated your sheening skin, as her mouth sucked tightly, creating the exact vacuum of pressure for the perfect bruise.

At the first hickey, you didn’t know how to respond, your body simply limp, still, and silent towards the menacing woman. But by the second bruising, this one the lady placed right on your collarbone, you couldn’t help the breath you sucked in, accompanied by a shiver running through your spine.

But slowly, bruise after bruise, Alcina started to warm your body up. By the time she got to your pressure point, you had craned your neck back for her access and were overtly breathily groaning out after each marking, your eyes threatening to roll back. You could feel the tight coil in your core slowly building as your breathing shallowed and your body came alive.

Alcina sliced your clothing off piece by piece with no further comment, and you took it from her, not daring to oppose. With more exposed skin came more slow and meticulous sucking and marking. By the time the powerful woman got to your thighs, you were an aching mess. But you bit your lip, resisting the urge to beg, as you knew better to talk unless instructed to.

“Who do you belong to, Draga…?” Alcina growled into your now exposed cunt, her hot breath alone to make your core clench around nothing.

You suddenly felt dizzy, and very subservient. The lady tended to have that effect on you. You had hated it at first, as your job was to take her down by spying on her. But overtime, you had learned that Lady Alcina Dimitrescu wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. Or at least her tongue and fingers weren’t…

“I… y-you my lady—“ you whimpered.

“That’s right… So what’s this when I hear someone else is claiming to own you and your services…?” She cooed wickedly, as her free hand gripped your left thigh until it bled.

“N-nothing ma’am—! I belong to y-you and you only…!” You pleaded, trying to fight back tears.

“Good girl…” Alcina hummed, before sliding her lengthy tongue all the way into your core.

You couldn’t help how your body reacted to the woman and her wicked administrations. You shuddered, hating just how good her slithering tongue felt inside your cunt. Your head hit the wall with a light crack! as your eyes effectively rolled back, a filthy moan spewing out from your lips.

“That’s right… My little toyslut… aren’t you…?” Alcina chuckled darkly, pulling away her tongue from your cunt momentarily.

The whimper that erupted from your throat at the loss of stimulation made you want to throw up. But all these feelings were quickly stifled by the intense pleasure of two of the lady’s fingers filling your core. You nodded your head vigorously, willing to do and say anything as long as she continued to make you feel this good.

The first orgasm that Alcina pulled out of you hit you like a brick, your body spasming against the wall and her firm hanging hold on your wrists. You desperately tried to stifle your sounds of pleasure, but your pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t contain your screams.

“That’s it, my little whore… Be a good draga and take it.” the tall mob boss wickedly cooed.

By her increasing speed and your curling toes, your fractured mind could barely piece together the fact that this woman was not stopping anytime soon…

~~~

Alcina Dimitrescu Masterlist

[yilingpatriarchscvnt]

They were too late to get you back.

Warnings: mention of death, arguments, angst with no happy ending, neglected reader, jealousy.

Diluc x reader, Alhaitham x reader

"Never got the chance to apologize.."

DİLUC

Diluc and you were not the type of people who would fight often, been a relationship with him almost 4 years. Sure, everything is going well.

Well... it was going well. For the past 1 year everything changed for you and him. He barely came home, interact with you, ignoring you most of the time... and kept arguing, fighting over small things.

You never opened your mouth or fight back, you loved diluc so much that it was starting to hurt. Your shared room started to feel cold, no more morning kisses or hugs before diluc went to work, cold breakfasts and dinner all by yourself. Even if he did join the diner he would be quiet all the time, not even looking at you.

You did kept your mouth shut, holding for a hope... a hope for your future with him. Until you heard the conversation with Jean. The last knife that would break you.

"She's so useless, I cant keep up with her annoying presence all the time. All she do is stay at home and distract me from work... she keeps finding noneless things to argue with me. I just want to break the ties with her already, being with her is so tiring."

"Am I... that bad?" Who knew your dear lover was thinking of you like this for the past 1 year. All you wanted was too be like the past relationship you both had. Warm bed, morning kisses, happy breakfast and dates. Covering your mouth trying not to make any sound you left there sobbing quietly.

You did everything, I mean really everything. That all arguing was really nothing for him? You just asked for him to stay by yourside for more. You were slowly draining from inside, you had no one but diluc. Only his presence was keeping you sane but this cold mansion was making you crazy.

You returned back to the mansion, you had enough. Talking with him would go nowhere after all. You wanted his attention, you wanted him to see your worth. Going to the storage room picking up the sword once you held before moving in with your so called lover. Taking a mission from katheryne, you walked to the lawachurls camp.

You were going to show him that you are still worth for something, that you could help him with everything if he asked for it. Even if it meant death. Standing in front of the big creature holding your sword tightly you ran towards to it.

..Oh how wrong you were, thinking you could defeat that monster. Laying on a pool of blood coming from your head. Suddenly feeling peacefull for the first time after 1 year of suffering from neglect. Looking at the shining stars above you. Your head ringing from aches, sword a meter away. Faint screaming noises from back. You couldn't bother to look that way.

"Please..." a faint voice big hands caressing your cheek, weird it wasnt raining but you could feel wetness on your cheeks. Turning your eyes to the voice. Hands wiping away your blood.

"Diluc.." your throat dry, coughing the blood. Your beloved, your future. How could you hate him when he was the only one left in your life? İs this really how you were going to die? As a pathetic advanturer? Few tears sliding from your face as your blurry vision tried to capture every beauty on his face.

"Jean is coming here so... please... please dont leave me now..I wont neglect you anymore...I will beg on my knees once you recover... so dont leave me here all alone.." Ah... was he also holding a hope on his hands too? A future would be great with him. Your eyelids feeling heavy, heart beating slowly as the seconds passing, his voice becoming more and more faint.

"Sleep...Can I sleep in your arms?" Your head falling to his chest, inhaling the scent for the last time you missed for so long. Diluc holding your cold body close to him, screaming and crying cursing to the celestia as you drift away from him.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was no bad guy, I mean if it is you, he actually is willing to do anything for you. He is sure workaholic, but you guys were making sure spending time.

You met him in akademiya when you guys were like 18-19. İt wasnt a love in first sight infact you hated him because he was a cocky man. He barely cared for any situtations, always one step ahead of you, teasing you even if other cant really understand his way of teasing. But overall because of kaveh you guys did get along sometimes.

Suprisingly he was the one who confessed with a valentines card, it was cute since he was shy about it and now its been 7 years.

Alhaitham is good at fighting so sometimes he takes dangerous missions other than being scribe and that worries you a little. You were just a researcher in akademiya so you cant always be with him. First time meeting with The Traveler your mind was at ease since they were with Alhaitham and helped him with secret missions in desert.

From 7 years to this day he is also not the type of person who really shows affection towards to someone but you, it made you feel speacial. But after all that archon saving missions he invites traveler to dinner, hanging out with her more and more. You told yourself that you were not jealous and its normal to hang out with people they like.

This became so often that you were feeling so neglected, you couldnt even talked about this with alhaitham since you felt like he wouldnt care about it.

You were in your room with kaveh, he was trying to finish his desings as you were staring at the ceiling. "Saw alhaitham with a woman today while coming here." Kaveh broke the silence. "Do you know her?" He turned to you.

"You mean the traveler?" You asked tilting your head. "Uhm no? Traveler left to fontaine almost 1 week ago..." he was cold sweating, your eyes widened from shock. Then who he was meeting up with for 1 week?

"Kaveh... tell me your joking?" You laughed. İt was probably one of the jokes he was making right? But he remained silent looking down. No you wouldnt believe it until you see it with your own eyes. "Y/N wait-"

You stormed off to the Sumeru City streets heart beating like crazy. You stopped 20 meter away from alhaitham, hiding in the corner. You saw him... his betrayal as he caressed another womans cheek. She was beautiful, long silky hair and shining eyes, thin and elegance body. Your eyes watering slowly as you watched him lean for a kiss.

You ran from there. As fast as you can, till your lungs gave up. Entering your shared home to pack things up, you looked at youself on the mirror. Hair that looked horrible, sleepy eyes, body that looked like a frog in your eyes. But her... she was beautiful unlike you. You cried for the first time after years, wiping your tears as you packed your things. Leaving your room with no trace of you.

Kaveh on the other hand, explaining alhaitham that you saw everything. Panic rising in him he ran to the shared house. Walking inside slowly, trying to hear if there were any noise. "Y/N? I.. I came home?" He shouted. Feeling weird like the house got colder and quiet. His heart still beating like crazy he rushed to your room only to be faced with a tidy bed, empty warddrobe and empty studying desk.

This was a cruel joke on him right? You were joking, pranking him to make him regret for not telling you sooner it was for a mission right? His hand covering his face as he falls on his knees calling out your name a few times before breaking down.

Looking around trying to find anything that belonged to you, walking inside the house he spotted a letter.

My beloved lover,

I had to leave our home because my heart was hurting too much. Sometimes, I saw things that made me scared—little moments that maybe meant nothing but felt big and heavy to me. I've always struggled with feeling good enough, and these fears made me feel even smaller.

Leaving wasn’t about anger; it was about being so overwhelmed by sadness that staying felt impossible. I never wanted to run away, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I wasn’t what you needed.

I'm really sorry for any pain my leaving has caused. I hope one day we can understand each other better, but for now, I need some space to work through these feelings.

Take care,

[Your Name]

That was it, you left without giving a hint where you went. Guilt eating alhaitham up. For him you were perfect, you were everything he needed. Even your silence made him happy and peacefull. He was never good at showing his emotions and expressions but when you were with him he felt like he didnt need to force himself. You understood everything about him.

He lay down on your bed, a faint scent inhaling as he slightly squezzing the letter in his hand. Murmuring your name, begging to the teyvat to bring you back to him.

[hydrobunny]

i remember it all too well

tags: angst, post breakup, flashbacks, journalist reader, angst angst angst, it's all too well come on now

a/n: happy belated birthday sae itoshi

your world pauses the day sae itoshi is spotted with a new girlfriend.

the photos are blurry, paparazzi shots taken from at least one building over. it doesn't matter. you would know the curve of his arm around a waist in a thousand different lives.

you have to admit she fits him. even as your hands shake, you can't deny that they look happy- something the two of you weren’t so good at.

it doesn’t stop you from harboring too-many amounts of memories all the same.

you met him before he had joined the world of the superstars, but after he had already been something greater. (you think that if you had met him before everything, you two would’ve fared better.)

by the time you two had locked eyes, he was already changed. something inside of him had shifted, turning away from everyday life and facing immortal legacies instead. you had falsely believed you held a place in it.

you should’ve known better, right from the very first words he spoke to you.

“you’re not supposed to be here.”

you pause, looking up from your phone to face the voice.

cold eyes glare down at you, beautiful in color. the boy - because he can only be around your age, barely leaving the teenage years at most - they belong to is just as annoyingly beautiful. you think you should recognize him.

“excuse me?” you ask, offense rising. “i know where i’m supposed to be.”

his eyes only narrow. “is this another shitty tactic? i said i was done with interviews.”

“good for you, dude.” you roll your eyes, pushing past his shoulder. “why anyone would ever want to interview you, i have no idea.”

as you leave, you can feel his gaze on your back.

you blink, shaking yourself out of whatever that was. it's not good to linger on the past. (your therapist had told you that.)

still, she has also told you that one couldn't grow without recognizing what exactly they had to grow from.

perhaps that's why you find yourself rummaging in your bedside drawer for a deeply buried box, the ends of your fingers numb.

when you open it, you’re met with nothing but a handful of flimsy keepsakes. from fraying bracelets to notes to polaroids. all of them are snapshots of a relationship no longer yours, artifacts of what used to be your heart.

in each flashback, sae itoshi lingers.

the next time you met him, you had learned that he was supposedly a household name. (never in your household, though.)

the great hope of japan’s future -despite what he himself had to say about the country.

you’re a little embarrassed by what happened. still, you refuse to take all the blame.

“sae itoshi,” you blurt out. “you’re here.”

those stunning eyes flicker to you, and he actually pauses. recognition actually stops him.

“you’re the one who was lost,” he says, mildly. “not pretending to not know me this time?

you flush. “in my defense, i didn’t know you. i don't do the sports section.”

he raises an eyebrow. “then why am i still seeing you?”

before you can respond, your boss comes rushing through the hallway, sweat beading on his brow.

“itoshi-san!” he blusters, barely sparing you a glance. “we’re so glad you’re here! is the intern bothering you? your interview is in the next room over, so if you just want to follow me- we're so grateful you decided to give us your exclusive.”

something twitches on sae’s face. “intern?”

offense rears its head in your chest. “what-”

“i’ve changed my mind,” sae interrupts mildly. he turns to you, taking hold of one of the many pens lying on your desk.

ask you and your boss watch in bewilderment, he leans down and scrawls something on your notepad.

“she’ll get the exclusive,” he says, straightening back up. “when she isn't an intern anymore.”

and he turns and walks out of the building, leaving nothing but a string of numbers on a sticky note.

the same sticky note rips between your fingers. once you start, you can't stop yourself, until all you're left with is a pile of bright yellow scraps.

you move onto the next item. a wiry black wristband; one half of a forever missing set.

you had been dating sae itoshi for exactly one month. all of your friends still thought it was as some long-standing elaborate joke. at certain times, you couldn't believe it yourself either.

despite it all, despite every little memory you can pore over for hours at a time, you can’t pinpoint the exact moment when things changed.

it’s a strange truth, one you’ve struggled to come to terms with- but it's a truth. if someone were to ask you when your relationship with sae soured, you wouldn't be able to say.

perhaps it wasn't a singular moment. maybe it was a long time in the making, like how a banana slowly browns- until one day, it’s rotted.

either way, one form of heartbreak or another, the truth was this:

you and sae itoshi had ended.

[matchaelette]

when jungkook is leaving and none of you know what to do with yourselves

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash (her name is ash, cz I couldn't think of anything else & Y/N makes me physically cringe), established relationship, jungkook is leaving for military enlistment and they are just spending the last moments together, jimin cameo ;)

genre: fluff, bit angsty, idol au

warnings: again, jungkook going through the whole enlistment procedure, suggestive, oc cries a lott but hey, everyone of us is crying

words: 3.5k

note: it had to be done. I needed to write about this. I'm not functioning straight and I wrote this in a mood where I felt very drained and emotionless so it might show up in the writing....? also, this is concerning-ly unedited. anyways enjoy, feedback is always appreciated <3

you've lost count of how many times you've cried this whole month.

ever since you could walk, talk, and form conscious thoughts, you've noticed that every feeling you've had and tried to express comes out as tears. yes, you're angry, oh my god mom, I wanna shake your shoulders and tell you to believe your daughter for once and not somebody else, but you're silent and you're crying; you've been memorizing every single thing for this presentation and you swear by your future first newborn baby that every word is engraved in your brain, just say the words, people don't care what you fucking say you just need to say something, but you're silent, your legs are shaking on the stage and you think you're crying; you love him, you love this human being staring at you from between your legs with all the love in this whole fucking universe, kind and whole and happy and real, jeon jungkook, you love him so fucking say it, but all you can do is caress his face and let the silent tears cascade down yours.

yes, ever since the beginning of time, all your emotions and feelings have been coming out as tears.

sometimes you think that spending all your teen years bottling up everything because of a mean father and an angry mother messed you up for good. all your life you've hated yourself for crying so easily, especially when in front of other people, feeling so weak and broken all the time. but you didn't think much anymore, at least not as much as you used to overthink when you were younger, scared of fellow high-schoolers, scared of what people think about you. after you've met jungkook, your sweet jungkook, he has shown you that crying doesn't necessarily mean you're weak. maybe you were just sensitive and that was alright, because you've always cried when you felt too much, made you more of a genuine human than everyone else. his words, not yours.

but it did feel good to hear and you didn't know what you've done to deserve it.

you also remember that every time you've hated yourself for crying, you always found solace in the fact that maybe someday it would all run out and you'd be perpetually free from all of it, the childish thoughts of a child.

however, even though you laughed at those thoughts every time you remembered them, you were now convinced of how wrong you were to think that maybe the tears would run out someday if you cried too much. because you've been crying continuously this month, more than you've cried your entire life, and by god, not only have the tears not dried out but also, it just keeps coming more and more if possible.

you choke out once again as you bury your face in jungkook's shoulder, clutching the front of his shirt as he tightens his grip around your waist. he looks at you helplessly, not knowing what to do anymore, because no amount of words or actions could stop you from crying. he knows he has tried it all.

you force yourself to get a grip, rubbing your face on jungkook's already wet shirt to dry your wet cheeks, and look up at the blurry distance in front of you, resting your cheeks against the place you've been hiding. jungkook stands there, one arm wrapped around you and one arm around his mother, with a little smile that keeps blooming at the sight in front of him seeing his jimin hyung hug and bid goodbye to his family, despite all the heartbreak in the air.

he tightens his grip around you and leans down to kiss his mother's head, who is in a state identical to you but still more graceful and elegant than you could ever be. "it's gonna be okay, you two", he whispers, causing his mother to gently smile and take your hands as you let out yet another sniff at his words. as sad and worried as she was at her son's departure, she couldn't help but feel worried for you too, her motherly nature reaching out towards you in a way you never felt from your own mother.

"I will be okay", she smiles at you in a teasing manner, despite her glassy eyes, "but the question is, will your girlfriend be okay?"

"h-hey!", your voice shook as an unintentional smile replaced the frown, "stop teasing me, maa", you whine.

"I am not teasing you, dear. honestly, come live with me for a few days. come to busan. I'll take care of you"

"if you keep saying that, I'll really turn into a parasite and stay in your house forever, maa"

jungkook giggles at your conversation, happy that the most important two women in his life got along so well. and you did, ever since the day you've met his mother. she loved you as her own daughter, as did his father, and made you feel so loved and comfortable that even your antisocial ass loved to spend time with them, making you visit them frequently, with and without jungkook by your side.

jungkook's mother lets go of her son and glides into her husband's arm, who looks at jungkook with pride. after all who wouldn't be proud of this talented, lovely, hardworking boy? jungkook was your boyfriend, and your best friend before your relationship upgraded into something more, and a lot of words came to your mind when you thought of him. but the first word has to be proud. proud that he became the man he is now, proud of who he was and every single version of him, how humble and kind and caring he is, always making everyone around him feel loved and respected. proud of how your friendship managed to stay so strong after all this time, proud how he is trying his best to get through these 18 months without any toll in your relationship.

jungkook hasn't shed a single tear yet, holding you through nights when you decided to be a mood killer, couldn't help thinking that soon he wouldn't be able to hold you like this. you were so far rooted in the future of the enlistment process that you forgot to live the present. you were a mess, shaking and sobbing ever so often, frustrated at hybe, frustrated at the whole lot of bts for taking a decision like this, frustrated at the south korean government, frustrated at jungkook for not being frustrated at how hysterical you've been acting.

jungkook, instead, has been a constant pillar of support. he has been constantly kissing your tears away, pushing his fears away of how you guys might not last through this calamity, reassuring you more than him that it will be alright. and as much as you wish he would express his own feelings instead of tending yours, you were glad that the boy didn't cry because it was all that was holding you back from getting onto your knees and begging him not to go. you couldn't do that to him, couldn’t do that to his happiness because you knew he would've obliged to your wishes, somehow, and break his own heart. he would do anything for you. he has been continuously proving that, after all.

"how is ash holding up?", jimin asks jungkook as he takes a sip of his soju, not feeling drunk enough despite the few bottles of alcohol he has drank. the point of the night was to spend time with each other, jungkook, him, and taehyung, getting wasted and having fun like old days. namjoon was supposed to join them as well, but he was overseas on schedule. taehyung, on the other hand, was already passed out on the couch, but it might have to do less with his low alcohol tolerance and more with his tiredness after landing in seoul from france just a few hours ago, after quite a hectic fashion week. so, it was jimin and jungkook now, them and their alcoholic asses against the whole world. after all, no one could hold their liquor like them in the whole group.

"she is, well, I honestly don’t know", jungkook frowned, a drop of soju ran down his lips to his black sweatshirt but he didn’t seem to notice, "she is totally ignoring that I have to leave and acting completely normal."

"sounds like her. isn't running from her problems her best coping mechanism?". you were close with all the members in the group, and the rest of them considered you as their little sister as well (even though taehyung jokingly called you noona sometimes) but if there was one member who knew the best, it had to be park jimin. he was your best friend after jungkook and the time you spent together, whether be it gossiping or shopping, was always something both of you found therapeutic and cherished from the bottom of your hearts.

a silent pain erupts in jungkook's heart as he finally voices out the thought he has been continuously having for the last few days, "hyung, should I break up with her?"

"yah jeon jungkook", jimin smacks the back of the younger boy's head, looking at him with shock, "are you that drunk already?"

"I don’t-", jungkook chokes out the next few words incoherently, and jimin had to physically shift closer to the boy to make sense of his words, "I don’t know what to do. I-I don’t know how to live without her. I want her all to myself and I selfishly want to ask her to wait for me. but how can I do that when she could have a much better life without me?"

"jungkookie-"

"she could fall in love with someone better than me. fuck, saying it out loud infuriates me but I know that she could be happier, way happier than I can ever make her. you see what I am doing? I am leaving the girl I love to protect my career, to make sure nobody has anything else left to guilt trap us with. I am doing all of this for myself. how selfish does that make me?"

"you keep forgetting that you don't have a choice, jungkookie."

"then why does it all feel like my fault?"

"what are we going to do?"

the words escape your lips without meaning to. they hang like a whisper in the air as your bodies slowly recover from the high they have been through, limbs tangled and eyes closed, forehead resting against each other.

"are we gonna be alright?"

yes, jungkook wants to say, yes because if you decide to stay, I will make it all work, I will make it all okay, I promise. but how can I ask you to stay when it will only hurt you?

"do you want to… maybe… break up?", his vacant voice makes your eyes fly open in bewilderment, not being able to believe that he actually said the words that he said. all this time both of you have been ignoring the pink elephant in the room, only almost two months left before jungkook left for the military enlistment along with namjoon, jimin, and taehyung. you’ve been trying to enjoy what little time both of you had despite your busy schedules, especially jungkook, who has been working tirelessly to make his fans feel a little less lonely when he won't be present anymore. something to hold on to while I am gone, I hope you can stay within this magic shop we've build together, memories of me would console you like the gentlest breeze of a fall evening, I will yet again patch something I haven’t broken.

but one of you had to be strong enough to address it, this overwhelming dread and the constant need to be with each other, ignoring sleep and every other basic need because you knew your time was coming to an end. you needed to address it and needed to be assured that both of you can get through this, your love was way stronger than these 18 months.

but that's the first thing he wants to say?

the way he looks at you breaks your heart. he has a small smile on his face and you can tell that it is genuine, that he is taking one last moment to cherish all of you if you decided to say yes. but there is almost an unbearing sadness behind his eyes, pained and tortured, begging you to say no.

your voice is almost comical when you actually find it, "jeon jungkook, do you want me to fucking kill you?"

and his immediate reaction is almost laughable. you could see his shoulders drop with relief. he buries his face in your neck and drops all of his weight on top of you, holding you in a way that immediately blocks out all the bad things and forces you to focus on him and him only.

you laugh, "you're quite heavy, babyboy"

"deal with it", comes out his muffled reply, as he forces you down on the soft mattress with his bare body, almost an attempt to bury you, and you choke out yet another laugh at his antics, tightening your legs around his waist and running your hands through his fluffy hair. I refuse to believe that it will all be gone soon.

"you haven't said anything. anything at all", he says quietly.

its sad that you know what he is talking about.

"I didn’t know what to say", you reply softly, careful that your voice doesn't shake. he doesn't need to see how you break every time you remember that he is going to leave, which you've been remembering an awful lot these days. no, you need to be strong, for him and for you. after all, you have already survived months away from each other, during tours and comebacks, thanks to both of your careers.

"we have survived before. it's not something new for us. we can do it again", you whisper against his jaw, gulping down the tears threatening to break free. only this time, it's 18 fucking months, and the unspoken words hang into the air.

"you didn't even shed a single tear", jungkook lifts his face and looks at you accusingly, knowing very well that you're a crybaby, "it keeps feeling like you don’t care."

your eyes widen at his words and it feels like a punch to your gut but you can’t say you're surprised. you have been acting indifferent to put up a strong front, and now that you look back, you may have overdone it from time to time. you were never a good actor.

you never understood why it always felt like this, every time you hide your problems from someone to not bother them, and always feel like a shipwreck when they actually fail to notice.

"jungkook, love", you trace his cheeks with your fingertips, his cute chubby cheeks, his lips, moving to his eyelids the moment he closes his eyes under your touch. you drag your fingertips through his scalp, waterfalls of his hair cascading down when you reach his nape, softly pulling his face closer to kiss the tip of his nose. jungkook, my love, how do I tell you that you mean the world to me and that I am not worried that our relationship isn't as strong enough to fight the course of time but I am sad and I am selfish and I don't know how to survive without feeling your presence for even a single day? how do I tell you that you never have to worry about me leaving but worry about me staying forever and suffocating you? I love you and I don't know what to do with myself, I love you and I don't know who I am without that love. what can I say to make it all better?

"babe, are you crying?"

no, you're not crying. you're sobbing.

"wait wait, I didn't actually ask you to cry—", you can see the panic in his eyes as he pulls both of your bodies up into a sitting position just using one of his hands while the other wipes your cheek off, you on his lap, your thighs straddling his waist, bare torsos flushed against each other. you feel him pulling you into a hug as if your bodies could get any closer than they already are. but instead of being comforted, you sob even louder.

"ash, sweetheart, please don't cry", jungkook wanted to punch himself, regretting the words he spoke earlier. what the hell was he thinking, saying that you didn't cry? he wanted to go back and kick his own ass at the stupidity. why the hell would he want you to cry of all things?

you on the other hand could do nothing except bury your face in your boyfriend's neck, and feel the entirety of him, his body, his scent, his hold on you, his voice so clear in your head, nothing but him until the time runs out. you have been so strong till now, haven't you?

"but you're leaving", he could see now, how much of an idiot he had been thinking that you didn’t care enough just because all you were doing was trying to be tough and get through without this exact moment happening. he could hear the desperation in your choked sobs, he could feel the sadness at his own dam threatening to break. he almost felt angry that after all this time, he was still stupid enough to not see through you.

"and I will be back sweetheart, you know I will be. and then there would be nothing standing between us anymore. nothing. for the rest of our lives", he promises as he lifts your tear-soaked face to look at his own. he looked pained, trying his best to be strong when you were falling apart right in his arms, but you could still see the hope behind his eyes because his promise was real and you knew it.

but once the waterworks begin, it just cannot stop.

there is nothing left to say now. it is time, you realize. the chilly breeze washes over you, and you realize that nothing can make you feel as cold as you will when jungkook gets in that car with jimin. your eyes find each other, mouths desperately looking for words to say, promises, comfort, but what can you say that hasn't already been said?

"I love you", you whisper.

"stay out of trouble, okay?", jungkook kisses your forehead and even with the unstoppable tears leaking out from your eyes, you can't help but shoot him a mischievous glance. you, the god of getting into trouble, staying out of trouble?

jungkook sighs, knowing you a bit too well. after spending years together, he knew well enough that you could never be forced to do something you didn't want to do. you were like a storm, passing through in a way that was your own, wrecking everything in the process. while he loved your bravery and carefree nature, he realized it comes with its consequences. for him, it was constantly worrying about you and never wrongfully so. so, he returns to his last resort to make sure that you will be okay, "do it for me."

"okay that is pure emotional blackma—"

you cannot finish your words because his lips are on yours in a second, abruptly plunging you down a rabbit hole because, god, after all this time you're still not used to it. he smells like fresh laundry and mint, moving carefully because he isn't sure that you will allow him to kiss you like this in front of half the people from his company, his parents, and god knows who else is in the base. but who are you push him away?

you drop all courtesy and kiss him back in a manner that is sure yet gentle, tongue brushing softly against his lips. jungkook obliges and parts his lips, breathe mingling and tongue dancing in harmony as you kiss him with all your might, letting all of him overwhelm all of you one last time.

you let go of each other, breathless yet eyes glued. you trace his face, from his eyes to his cheeks and nose, his shaved head, still as soft as silk under your touch. he kisses your fingers when they reach his lips, smiling gently to remind you that yes, he will be gone, and that will hurt as hell but then again, he will be back.

"go, jimin's waiting", you force out a smile, "and please, for the love of god, choose something normal to do, something that doesn't involve jumping out of an aircraft or—"

"I love you."

".....I know."

[star-centric]

Ooo somewhat angsty request: when would be the first time MC saw each of the obey me brothers cry, and what's the best way to support them in that situation?

PAIRINGS: Obey Me Brothers x Gender Neutral!Reader

NOTE: *rubs hands together menacingly* I’ve been waiting for this one 😈 I definitely see myself exploring this idea again in the future (or even redoing this, idk yet tho 👀)

CW: angst (but not soul crushing), all of the guys are very vulnerable in this, gender neutral reader, minor spoilers for the first game (don’t worry, it’s not about *that* scene), no NB spoilers since I’m behind in the game </3

When you see LUCIFER cry for the first time, it was late at night, where he believed that he was the only soul awake in the house- until you poked your head in the study, concern etched on your face.

He had one of his cursed records playing, the gentle music softly filling the air as he poured another glass of Demonus, gloves long forgotten. The simple smile he wore on his face only was a mask of what he was feeling.

He looked so…tired. So defeated.

“I try to give my brothers a good life- a life not only reminiscent of the one they lost from before, but a life even better than that. A life that they deserve.” He began, finger toying with the rim of his glass. “But I failed.”

You remained quiet as Lucifer let out a bitter laugh, “I failed- I let all of them down. I let down my brothers, I let down Lord Diavolo, I let down Michael, I let down my Father- all of them. I‘ve became a disappointment in the Celestial Realm, and I’m continuing to do so even now in the Devildom.”

You’ve never seen Lucifer so vulnerable before- you’ve always seen him act so unbothered, his pride refusing to let him reveal too much. He’s always been the one to lead, the one his family would go to for anything, the one that would sacrifice himself without a moment’s hesitation. He was the glue holding everything together, but everything wears thin with time.

He picked up the glass, swirling it around before setting back down with a harsh thud, sighing.

“I’ve let you all down. And that in and of itself is unforgivable-“

Lucifer flinched when he felt your hand on his cheek, thumb gently wiping under his eye. He was confused for a moment before he felt something wet trail down his other cheek. He wiped at it only to notice his vision getting a bit blurry-

How long has it been since he cried?

A few of his tear drops landed on his documents below, yet as he glanced up at you, you didn’t say a word. You didn’t point out how unguarded he was being, you didn’t interrupt him- you merely listened and wiped away his tears with a gentle smile lining your cheeks.

Lucifer couldn’t stop his tears after that, and he found himself grasping onto you as they continued.

When you see MAMMON cry for the first time, it’s in your room.

He was avoiding everyone today including you, and while it left you worried, you gave him some space. When you got back to your room, you noticed the door ajar- and when you opened it fully, you noticed a figure curled into your bed, a mop of messy white hair poking out from your blankets. You peeked over to see if he was asleep-

You didn’t have time to react as he grabbed and pulled you down to him.

Mammon buried his head into the crook of your neck and tightened his arms around you, hiding his face completely.

You wanted to ask what was wrong- what he was going through, for him to talk to you- but no words needed to be exchanged as he shook in your grasp, feeling your shirt getting damp. You didn’t have it in you to ask anymore.

All you did was comb your fingers through his locks as he quietly sobbed.

You’re not sure how long you stayed there, curled up against one another, but he eventually went still, soft snores passing through his lips.

It didn’t matter what the issue was- whether it was just a bad day or worse- you would always be there for him.

When you see LEVIATHAN cry for the first time, it’s in the privacy of his room.

You were binge-watching a new anime, one that had you both invested. It was about an immortal finding love after centuries- you were surprised Levi wanted to finish watching it after discovering it was a romance, but you were glad nonetheless (even if he couldn’t hide his flushed face).

You were nearing the end of the series when you heard sniffling.

You glanced to see Levi with tears building up in his eyes, threatening to fall.

You tried to look away but he already caught you staring.

The tips of his ears were burning red as he flinched, “Don’t- don’t look at me MC!”

“Levi, you know there’s nothing wrong with crying right?”

“Sti-Still! It’s embarrassing!”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! It’s sad, it’s emotional-“ you explained. “If it makes you feel better, I kinda want to cry too.” Which wasn’t a lie- your eyes were starting to sting a little. You knew how the outcome was going to be for the main characters, but it still felt like a gut punch to see.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Levi, so you gently linked your pinkie with his. You were happy that he didn’t flinch away from you this time.

“Just know that you’re not alone, okay?”

Levi shyly nodded his head, and you felt him slightly squeeze your pinkie. He knew that he wasn’t, but that wasn’t what got him emotional.

What got him emotional was seeing the immortal, holding their elderly lover in his arms as they passed on. The lover aged as time passed, but the immortal stayed the same- except they were alone again like how they were centuries ago.

No matter how many happy moments the characters had in the show together, it was bound to end in tragedy.

And it brought Levi back to reality.

Back to the reality that he would eventually lose you in the same way.

When you see SATAN cry for the first time, it was in his demon form.

You’ve seen him before like this after he lashed out in the past, spiky tail whipping furiously behind him, green eyes showing nothing but fury. You know that he tries to keep his anger under control, but it still got the best of him at times.

But you didn’t see any anger this time.

You only saw anguish.

There Satan was, kneeled on the ground with tears welling up in his eyes with ripped and scattered objects tossed around the room, a result of destructive rage from before.

“I’ll never been seen for myself, will I?”

Satan’s eyes stayed on the ground, never meeting your own. “I’ll only ever be seen as my sin, as an extension of my older brother- never as myself.”

He shoulders trembled as he let out a bitter laugh that filled the room.

“I know I shouldn’t expect anything different. I should be used to it by now, but- why does it still bother me?”

His smile did nothing to hide his pain, crystal tears cascading down his cheeks.

“Why does it still hurt MC?”

You joined him on the floor and pulled him in your arms, holding onto him as he broke down.

When you see ASMODEUS cry for the first time, you thought it was a ploy at first.

You’ve seen Asmo bring tears to his eyes on a whim when he’s trying to get his way or be dramatic, so to see the same thing happen now wasn’t anything new. You were painting each others nails when you asked him if he’s ever been in love before-

“Of course MC! I love all of my fans dearly and they love me-“

“No, not that kind of love. Like true love- has someone ever told you they love you genuinely?”

“Hm, I don’t…”

When you saw the dejected look in his eyes, you became aware that it wasn’t a ploy at all.

You didn’t look up when he went quiet, concentrating on finishing the final coat on his nails. It wasn’t until you saw something wet drip onto his hand that made you glance up, seeing a single tear roll down his cheek with a forced smile.

“…I don’t know.” He choked out.

Asmo always soaked in the admiration from his fans- but that’s all it was, admiration. They loved the Asmo that they saw in the Fall, the Asmo that they saw on Devilgram- they loved the Asmo that they saw, but did they really know him enough to say they truly love him?

Did they love the Asmo you see or Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust?

“People love me and I love my fans, but why does it still feel so empty?” The smile on his face that he was so used to flashing soon fell, more tears steadily rolling down his flushed cheeks.

Despite what his sin is, Asmo did believe in true love. He believed that one day he found find someone to pour his heart and soul into and get the same in return. Even after he fell and lost his beautiful wings, he still held on to his wish of finding that person.

He started to imagine that person was you.

But he was scared that you didn’t picture him that way. That you only saw him as the Avatar of Lust.

For once, Asmo felt insecure, and he could do nothing but soak in the warmth he was afraid of losing as you held him sobbing.

When you saw BEELZEBUB cry for the first time, it catches you off guard.

You only went to grab some water, waking up and walking to the kitchen in your dazed state.

It wasn’t a surprise to see Beel there with a meal- but it was a surprise to see him wiping away tears, food untouched.

Any sleepiness washed away when you rushed to him, already by his side, asking him what’s wrong.

“I had another nightmare.” He sniffled, refusing to make eye contact with his body tense. “About Lilith.”

Your breath hitched- Beel told you once about his nightmares, but never what it was about. You only assumed how horrible it was from the faraway look he had in his eyes. It never crossed your mind that it was about his sister-

“I saw her MC- it’s always the same,” Beel balled up his fists, baring his fangs. “I’m always too late to save her- why couldn’t I save her?!”

He was no longer hiding his frustration or tears, which were freely rolling down his cheeks. All you could do was listen as he tried his best not to break down under the kitchen lights.

“You protected her, Beel.” You softly spoke, reaching to hold his hand. “You all did more than enough to protect her, and I know that she doesn’t blame you.” You lightly squeezed his hand, “She knows that it’s not your fault. None of it was.”

You’re not sure how long you sat there holding Beel, sobbing out broken apologies to his dear sister who would never hear them.

When you see BELPHEGOR cry for the first time, it was in his sleep.

You spent the night in the twins room, bundled up next to him as you were beginning to doze off. Belphie clung on to you, mumbling something incoherent as he slept. But before you could get lost in your dreams, you felt his grip growing tighter around you.

You brushed off the minor discomfort, only turning to then hear something that truly woke you up-

Belphie whimpering.

You blinked away any sleepiness, turning to see his face twisted in pain, fresh tear staining his cheeks. His hands were clenching onto you tight, whimpering soon turning into a chorus of “no” and “please”.

You shook him awake before he could continue, hair stuck to his forehead as his eyes shot open, panting. He scanned the room before landing on you, pulling you closer into him, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. No doubt he had a nightmare.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Belphie took a long pause. “…Everyone hated and blamed me for everything, for all of our problems. You all forced me to leave, and I was casted out of my home- again.”

You did nothing but soothe him as you felt him tremble again, your neck becoming damp as he started to quietly sob. “You know that won’t ever happen Belphie-“

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just- stay with me…please?”

“Of course.”

You felt his tail wrap around your waist as he sobbed out a thank you. You combed your fingers through his locks, lulling him back to sleep- hopefully to better dreams.

[lomlompurim]

What if Without A Cure were a different type of poison, like a cursed potion that will consume a person's body & mind, slowly and painfully while they transform into a creature with little to nothing left of their human consciousness, ending up like a beast. Like a dragon.

A victim of this version of Without A Cure would suffer a series of gradual changes on their body: developing scales all over their skin, claws growing in their hands and feet, painful reament of bones, teeths being replaced by fangs, several migraines for growing horns out of their skull, and a tail.

What if the sessions of qi transfers with Liu Qingge and the herbs can only do so much to keep the transformation at bay, forcing the changes on Shen Qingqiu's body to step back for a bit. But as the days go by, these changes come again slowly, each time a little bit harder to fight. And the flares of Without A Cure make these changes happen at a violent speed.

He can hide the worst of it with a veil, gloves and a hat while being in CQ mountain. Having LQG and MQF helping him almost daily. But the peaklords (Specially YQY) do their best to keep eveything as private as possible. No one truly knew what this Without A Cure was capable of, since the few records of it's victims mark them as dead within a few days of being posioned, having "strange deformities in their bodies" as the only clue.

Maybe Binghe never really knew the true effects of the so called poison with no cure. He only knew his master sacrificed his cultivation and now needs qi transfers to help him endure the pain.

SQQ never really tolds him, he saw how guilty Binghe felt about the whole deal, telling him that he was slowly becoming a feral creature will only make the poor boy feel worse!! Unthinkable. It wasn't so bad anyways (it was) for now his draconic features are minimal, almost non existent after the qi transfers, everything is going to be fine. Maybe becoming a dragon can help him avoid death? Uh that's a problem for the SQQ of the future.

After the conference, SQQ's grief made things a little bit worse. Just a little. The pace of the cursed posion is becoming more bothersome as days passed by, now he can't go anywhere without a veil covering his face, and the little poking horns on this head can't be hiden by his hair anymore. Maybe he just should die and come back in his plant body to put a stop to this prickly curse. A lot of people, in or outside of the mountain think he covers his face out of vanity or bc of an ugly scar. Some weirdos are even trying to take a peek under his veil. Is this what Liu Mingyan has to endure everyday?! The urge to bite out those curious fingers is becoming stronger.

Then, what if when Huan Hua Palace takes him as a prisoner, a flare up happens and with no one to help him w a qi transfer, his horns grow severly inches long, his hands and feet are completly covered in grey scales, big black claws ripping his robes because his skin is itching like hell thanks to the new scales. His pupils become slit, his tail pokes out of the rags that his clothes became, everything is a mess and no one can see him like these.

What if when Sqq self detonates, instead of dying he sacrificed what was left of his humanity to stabilize Binghe, and he completly transformates into a huge white dragon, flying away into the sky, disappearing in the distance. Leaving a very confused half demon and a devastated war god behind, memories of his human life becoming blurry and far away.

What if some despicable palace master and a particular greedy demon royalty of the nothern region put a price on the head of the misterious white dragon that has been seen floating around the skies?

--------------

Idk this is an idea for a bingliushen story. With without a cure having the effects of the first drafts that airplane had thought in this AU, when PIDW was not so popular yet. And no, the heavenly pillar can't cure this. In my brain this version of without a cure is older than the concept of dual cultivation with a heavenly demon being a cure to almost everything, so no magic dick can solve it, they would have to find another way.

In my mind Sqq's dragon form is like this from Zelda Tears of the Kingdom. Pretty big lizzard.

[rosezza]

࿐Give up on me

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

-r

— i'll love you till my breathing stops.

Warnings: soft!rafe, crying, strong language, no happy ending. I honestly love dark Rafe much more but yk

"What the fuck! Is wrong! With you?!" You yelled as cold tears streamed down your makeup smeared face. Sobs coming from you as you stared at Rafe.

The secret that yours and Rafes relationship was only a bet had came out to you. Over a year of dating had all been a lie. And it hurt you. All those mornings he had you wrapped close to him as he kissed you all over your face was a lie. All the times he had said he loved you was a lie. All the things you and Rafe every shared was a lie. And it cut you deep. Your throat tightened as you watched Rafe with blurry eyes. Your heart ached and your stomach was twisting. You loved him, you really did. And it hurt to know that he never loved you back. Your mind going through all the small things you and Rafe had experienced only hurt even more.

"Y/n please-.. Listen to me i didnt- i-" Rafe tried as he locked eyes with you. His heart shattered as he saw your tears. Especially since he was the one that caused them to fall down your pretty face. He had promised to make sure whoever made you cry never placed a hand on you ever again. And now he was the one making you cry.

"No!- no! Dont even fucking talk to me Rafe!.." you cried as you began sobbing even more. His soft voice reminded you of the sweet things he said to you. And it hurt you even more.

Rafe stood there as his anexiety creeped up. He was scared to say something wrong and he didnt want to lose you. He never wanted to. It was all a bet yes. But he had fallen inlove with you. And it was something he couldnt let go of, he thought he was unlovable. No girl had ever showed him as much love as you did. You had understood him in different ways then his past relationships ever had. He had actually managed to think of a future with you. And it destroyed him to think that all if that could possibly end now. You were the first girl he actually cared about and respected.

He was always the tough guy, always the one who was in control. But to you he was different. Only to you. And he had grown attached to you.

But you didnt know that.

You were stuck thinking he never cared about you. And it wouldnt even be a surprise considering you got with Rafe Cameron. Everyone had warned you about him but you gave him a chance.

And you actually thought he was the right one. The way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he tied your shoes even if you were out in public, the way he took care of you, the way you danced to stupid little tunes whenever you felt like it, the way he bought you flowers, The way he loved you

"I spoke to my mother about you Rafe, i told everyone that i found the right one. I was so fucking stupid werent i? Because all you are after is a slut." You cried as you pointed a finger at Rafe. Which hit a soft spot in him. His eyes began tearing up as he watched this whole situation unfold right infront of him. The person he loved and truly wanted in his life was sad because of him.

Your anger just turned into complete sadness as you realised that this was it. This was the end

"I should have listened when people told me.." you cried. Your voice high pitched because of the way your throat was tightened.

"Y/n I love you.." Rafes voice was weak and he took a step closer to you. The tears in his eyes made you feel slightly bad but you couldnt give in to him again. Not now. Not anymore.

"Stop saying that when you dont!-" you cried out again. You had a lump in your throat and you felt lightheaded. You hated this and you just wanted to go away.

"I give up on you"

Your words hit him like a thousand bricks at once as you snatched up your bag from the counter. Rafe was speechless as you began to walk towards the door. "No-.. no, no no. Y/n!-" Rafe called out with desperation and guilt in his voice, finally acting. He didnt want this to end. He never did. A tear ran down his cheek as he caught up to you before you could leave. He took a hold on your arm but you quickly pulled away and turned to him. Looking in his eyes. Both of your eyes red because of the tears that were both plastered on your faces.

"Never fucking touch me again." You sneered at him and his eyebrows frowned. He didnt want this. He wanted you in his arms again, but the chances if that completely faded as you began walking away from his house. Leaving him heartbroken at the doorframe. Guilt washed over him. Regretting that he ever agreed on that bet. Thinking about how different things would have been if you didnt find out you were a bet.

You heard his cries as you walked. A part of you wanted to turn around and run to him, hug him and tell him its going to be alright. Because a part of you still loved him. You could never stop loving him because you once showed the love you had for him. But all of that was gone. Your future with him was over. Your heart ached. It wanted to re-connect with his. But it hurt you to know this wasnt real.

You had given up on him. Forever.

Taglist: @necroflame 💗💗

[kikyoupdates]

For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes. All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

story masterlist | next

You’re surrounded by darkness. 

It feels like you’re trapped in some kind of void. You don’t understand what’s happening, but this vast expanse of nothingness stretches out farther than the eye can see. It feels like you can’t breathe. It feels like you’re being smothered, choked, trapped—and you’re desperate to break free. 

Ironically, the moment you have that thought, your prayers are answered. 

Suddenly, it’s not dark anymore. It takes a few moments for you to adjust to your surroundings, but there’s light, and images come into view. They’re nothing more than blurry shapes at first, but slowly, you’re able to make sense of them.

The silence is gone, too. It’s been replaced by the sound of something harsh, the likes of which grates at your ears and is impossibly loud. 

It’s the sound of a baby wailing. 

A group of people are staring down at you. Adults, all of them, and their expressions are unmistakably stern. You can’t seem to figure out what’s going on. The baby’s cries overwhelm your senses, and you desperately wish they would stop, but regretfully, they continue. 

One of the people scowls. 

“The child is born weak. Her cursed energy is scarce.” 

Strange. For some reason, they’re looking down at you as they utter those words. They clearly just said, the child. 

…are you that child? 

The wailing makes sense now. You’re a baby. A helpless little infant. All you can do is cry. You’re incapable of expressing yourself any other way—despite your best efforts to do so—and thus, your wails continue to fill the room, on a seemingly endless loop. 

“What a disappointment,” another person sighs. 

“She will serve no purpose. We may as well pass her onto a non-sorcerer family. It saves us the trouble of having to—” 

“No.”

Yet another person speaks up. It’s a woman, and although you can’t quite explain how you know, just by looking at her, it becomes clear. 

She is your mother. 

“My daughter will be raised here,” she insists, a glare crossing her brow. “I was forced into this life. Why should she have the kind of freedom that I was so unfairly denied? I don’t care if she’s weak. Put her to work. She can help out with menial errands, as a servant. It doesn’t matter. Do not let her leave.” 

Despite the fact that she is your biological mother, and you are her flesh and blood, her gaze is filled with nothing but hatred. She resents you, it seems, and while an ordinary baby wouldn’t be able to understand her words, for some reason, you do. 

All of these terms confuse you. Cursed energy, sorcerers… they make your brain itch. They evoke a strange sense of déjà vu, but you fail to comprehend why. Which only makes it that much more frustrating. 

Honestly, this scares you. It’s a scary feeling, to be so utterly helpless, but viscerally aware of what’s happening around you. You have the urge to run away from here, as fast as you possibly can, but your body is physically incapable of doing so.

Even though you escaped the darkness, you’re still trapped. 

Some time passes. 

You’re older now. You recently turned five years old. If nothing else, you’re thankful for the ability to be able to move normally. Having to live as an infant, while fully aware of everything around you, was absolute torture. It’s true that you didn’t have any responsibilities and you were able to lounge and sleep to your heart’s content, but still… ugh. You’re glad that uncomfortable period of your life is finally over with.

Although five years have passed, nothing particularly remarkable has happened. 

Your mother actively avoids you. She treats you coldly, and as far as you can remember, has never shown you any love. Your father, the head of the household, barely so much as glanced at you after you were born. You’re of no interest to him since you’re so weak. He’s had children with several other women apart from your mother, but your half-siblings have far more potential than you, and so, they ignore and look down on you the same way your parents do. 

The same goes for pretty much everyone else, too. No one ever pays attention to you, or comforts you when you’re sad, or lets you take a break when you’re tired. The second you started walking properly, they told you to help out with chores, and day in and day out, your weak, tiny little legs can hardly keep up. 

You suppose it could be worse. Nobody ever yells at you, or hurts you. Some children have the misfortune of being born into incredibly abusive homes. And while neglect is still a form of abuse, you always have a comfortable spot to sleep in at night, and several yummy, warm meals each day. 

You live in a big traditional Japanese-style home, along with many other people. Some of them are your close relatives, some of them are your distant relatives, and some are people that are unrelated to you but married into the family. There are also those who have been purely hired as workers, to help maintain the home, take care of cleaning, cooking, and so on and so forth. 

Anyways, there are lots of people here—most of whom are sorcerers. 

It’s been vaguely explained to you before. Sorcerers are those born with more cursed energy than most, and have the ability to see and fight cursed spirits. Apparently, cursed spirits are incredibly dangerous. They not only harm people, but can also kill them outright. Hence why sorcerers devote their lives to fighting them, in order to keep everyone else safe. 

You have to acknowledge, it’s a noble cause. Sorcerers actively risk their lives in order to fight curses. That’s the kind of family you’ve been born into. But since your cursed energy is so weak, it doesn’t sound like anyone has high hopes for you. Some people within your family occasionally go on missions to fight curses. They usually come back, but there have been a few instances where you’ve asked where certain people have disappeared to, only to be met with a cold, stone-faced expression in return. 

Death isn’t uncommon in this line of work. That’s why it’s probably for the best that you’re so weak. The stronger the sorcerer, the harder the missions they have to undertake. You would much rather stay home and do chores instead. You’re not strong enough to save anyone. You’re not strong enough to risk your life. And even after all this time, you have yet to see a cursed spirit with your own eyes. 

It’s okay if people ignore you. It’s okay if nobody thinks you have any worth. All you can do is make the most of the life you’ve been given. 

What you don’t yet realize, however, is that you’re destined for something much, much greater. 

One day, you’re sweeping outside the residence’s gates. The sky is clear, and the sun shines brightly overhead. Even though you’re not much older than five years old, people rarely concern themselves with you. They just give you chores to do, then let you be. It’s negligent, of course, since you’re still a young child, but you prefer it this way. You can appreciate the peace and quiet every now and then. Today, you even snuck out a popsicle, and you set your broom aside for a few moments as you unwrap your cold treat. 

Finally, it happens. For the first time since you were born.

A cursed spirit appears before you. 

Your eyes widen. Panicked and caught off guard by the frightening, unfamiliar sight, you stumble backwards, falling to the ground and dropping your popsicle. The curse is a gruesome-looking thing. It has several pairs of big, bulging eyes, a disturbingly wide mouth, with rows upon rows of jagged teeth. It’s bigger than you, too. You’re just a child. You have a tiny, weak frame, and right now, you’re so scared that you can’t even move. 

The cursed spirit approaches you, cackling in an ominous, distorted tone of voice. Tears well up into your eyes. You need to scream. You need to call out for help. Time and time again, you’ve been told that your cursed energy is weak. You’ve been told that you’re weak. Everyone views you as a hindrance. Pathetic. Dispensable. 

Doesn’t that mean… that you have no chance of winning against this thing? 

The cursed spirit lets out a shrill, high-pitched laugh and lunges towards you. It’s too close. You have no chance of escaping. Even if you’d called for help by now, nobody would have been able to get here in time. Even if you’d called for help…

Nobody would care if you died. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing yourself for an onslaught of pain, which is sure to be unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

But the pain never comes.

When you open your eyes, the cursed spirit is gone. 

“...are you okay?” 

Someone is speaking to you. It takes a few moments for you to wipe away your tears and clear your blurry vision. You’re shaking from head to toe, unsure how you managed to survive, but once your gaze falls upon the boy now standing in front of you, suddenly, it all makes sense. 

Snow-white hair, paired with bright, piercing blue eyes. 

You don’t even need to wait for him to introduce himself. Already, you know who he is.

Gojo Satoru…? 

Just like that, it all comes back to you. His appearance sparks something inside your mind, and you’re hit with an abundance of knowledge, a wealth of information that was hiding beneath the surface until now. You remember everything. 

This isn’t the normal, ordinary world you believed it to be. 

This is the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. 

You wince. You must have had some kind of amnesia until now. It’s no wonder so many things sounded vaguely familiar, but you just couldn’t seem to place them. It makes sense now. It makes sense why you were so clearly aware of everything happening around you, despite being an infant. 

Somehow, you’ve been reincarnated. And into a fictional world, no less. 

You already died once. Back in the real world, as a teenager. There was a devastating earthquake, and you passed away, having suffocated under mounds of debris. You never knew that reincarnation was actually real. You always thought that even if people did reincarnate, they would lose all memories of their previous lives. 

You’re not sure how, or why, but by some miracle, all of the details of your past life have returned to you. 

“Are you okay?” Satoru asks again, frowning slightly. He’s only a child at this point. You’d say he’s about your age. Which means that only did you reincarnate into Jujutsu Kaisen, but you ended up in the same generation as none other than the strongest modern-day sorcerer. 

“I-I’m fine,” you nod. To be honest, you’re not really fine. You’re alive, but it feels like your head is spinning. This is a lot to process. Part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ve lost your damn mind. 

No, that wouldn’t make sense. You’ve been living in this world for several years now. It’s far too realistic, far too detailed to be a figment of your imagination, or some kind of long, drawn-out dream. 

This may not be the world you’re used to, but the fact that you’re here, living and breathing, means that it’s real. 

Which also means that all the horrible deaths that will occur are real, too.

Including Satoru’s. 

Your fists clench without you even realizing it. You’ve been told time and time again that you’re weak. You’ve been told that you’ll never amount to anything. But you’ve just discovered that you have a far greater weapon that you could ever have imagined. You have the kind of knowledge that could shake this world to its core. 

It’s not like you’re some kind of pretentious fool. What can someone like you do when faced with the likes of Sukuna? You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. You shouldn’t get carried away. Even if you do your best to help, there’s no guarantee you’ll succeed. 

But… you’d like to at least try. 

Satoru stares at you for a few moments, just to make sure you’re actually alright, then he turns and starts walking away. He clearly only came here because he sensed the curse and knew someone was in trouble. Now that you’re safe, he has no more reason to stick around. 

He must not have been expecting you to chase after him, though.

“W-Wait!” 

You stumble, nearly tripping over your own feet as you call out to him. Satoru stops and turns towards you with a look of mild disinterest. 

“Yes?” he asks. 

“I just… I wanted to thank you properly. For saving me. So, thank you. Thank you so much.” You pause, lowering your head for a moment, but when your gaze finally lifts, you’re grinning ear-to-ear. “I’m [Name]. What’s your name?” 

Of course, you already know the answer to that question, but the fact that you even asked makes Satoru falter. By now, just about every sorcerer should be able to tell who he is. The day of his birth forever changed the world of jujutsu. The renowned Six Eyes are recognized by all. People instinctively know who he is, without having even met him. He’s never even had to introduce himself.

Until now, for the very first time. 

“...Satoru. Gojo Satoru.”

Neither shock nor realization colors your features. Perhaps you really haven’t heard of him after all. Perhaps that’s why your smile just grows wider, brighter, seemingly without end. He wonders why you’re looking at him with gentleness and warmth, rather than the cold, muted admiration he’s so used to. 

Oddly enough, though, he doesn’t mind.

In fact, he finds himself smiling as well. 

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[sadnightforus]

NONE OF MY BUSINESS  (SMG)

ex!mingi x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: You used to be one of those people who finds it ridiculous that someone runs back to their ex after the breakup and sneaks around, unable to understand why people would go through the cycle of uncertainty that comes with the love making that means nothing after you both get dressed up. But now, you’re doing just that, with Mingi, and honestly, you’re getting tired of the blurry futures of your relationship with him that you keep it alive, although there’s an unspoken word that neither of you can let go because of the familiarity that comforts both of your hearts.

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

WARNINGS: cuss words (avoidable), implied fwb and mention of s*xual intercourse that doesn’t take place in the story. This one makes me dread life.

A/N: trying to get out of my slump. Love my gal tinashe.

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

 You’re back in his bed again. And you begin to think that you are a masochist, somewhere along the way after you’ve met him. And running back to him, despite being on and off.

 It’s way past the time where most people are staying up now as the time reads 1 am, as the time shows on his night stand. 

 You’re fully clothed, but you never felt more naked than this moment in your life. You can’t ever recall how many times you felt so vulnerable and hopeless in positions like this.

 It’s really a shame that you always find yourself running back to him. It’s not your first time, or second time that you’ve repeated this grave mistake either. It's happened countless times already, as it has already been months already. 

 How long will you allow it to happen? 

 Do you desire connections (or intimacy) with no strings, no label but memories left lingering between two strangers with history attached? 

 You used to laugh at your friends who did this, until you experienced it yourself and you can only laugh bitterly at how you used to look at the very situation you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t find yourself in.

 You’re so stupid. 

 So naive to think that you wouldn’t give into a temptation. 

 Even if it feels good in the moment, when the adrenaline wears off, does the high still stay? You already know the answer. 

 You quickly get out of the same bed that has your scent sprayed all over his bed. The same bed you used to lay in after a long day of work, cuddling into his side as you laughed and watching something mundane that you both picked. 

 Those memories started to slowly fade, replacing itself with the cold, empty mistakes and the ever unnerving kisses that snuck behind all of your friends’ and his friends’ backs. Because to them, you both are nothing but just exes. 

 But why is it so addictive? 

 Why does every time he calls you up, you always run to him? 

 He has already finished cooking and there’s only one empty plate on the kitchen counter. 

 And it truly answers your every question whether that he feels the same as you do or not. 

 He has already made room for one instead of two, a thought you keep to yourself as you observe him transferring a freshly cooked meal from his pan onto the shiny plate. 

 He doesn’t seem that surprised to see your presence in the kitchen. Normally, after the session, you would’ve already left with the saying ‘I have work tomorrow’. But really, you knew that you didn’t want to sleep in his bed, knowing that you’d feel much worse if you found yourself waking up in his bed and you would instantly start regretting and resent your own failure to keep the promise of not being back at his place altogether. 

 However, to your surprise, the plate is now in front of you, you don’t know where he gets the spoon and fork. You look at him like he’s crazy. And maybe indeed he did. Since when did he really care for you, after each other declaring that you both have nothing to do with each other anymore?

“I don’t think I can accept that.” You immediately refuse the meal, although it looks appetizing. “Sorry, I really can’t.” Apologizing to him, you let the guilt sit on the tip of your tongue. 

“Why?” He quirks one of his eyebrows, something he does when he has a question. Whether it’s in his sarcastic nature or out of genuine curiosity, you don’t think you can tell anymore.

 How do you really become strangers?

“I think we should stop doing this.”  You gulp. “Whatever we do— we should just leave that be 9 months ago.” 

 He’s now silent, he’s looking at you, you don’t have a single idea of what he could possibly come up with if he chooses to speak. 

“It feels like you’re lying to me. To ourselves.” You are reminiscing about the starter point that led you here. “I tiptoed around my friends, I told them that I bumped into you twice by accident. Sneaking around like we’re teenagers when we’re all adults and our companies are 45 minutes drive away from each other.” You continue to spill more. “I’m at your back when you call, I apologize for letting my instinct lead back to you. Isn’t it funny, I swore I would never do this but I can make excuses for you. I don’t want to keep lying to ourselves like this anymore.”

 You look into his eyes and the emotions that possess behind the gaze almost make you stunt; there’s a hint of guilt and remorseful, most importantly, regret and the new realization that the abnormal thing you both have been stuck doing to each other eats you up just as much as it eats him alive. 

“Do you have anything to say?” You question,tone gentle and not demeaning, as you catch the look that he has something he wants to say, but seems afraid to utter it out. “Because it seems like you wanted to, but you’re holding back.” 

“Have you.. ever felt loved when you were with me?” 

“Huh?” You’re so caught off guard that it was the only word you can mumble out. 

“Because it seems like you’re just so cold.. I don’t know who you are.” 

 Maybe there’s a familiarity behind Song Mingi that you missed, but you deluded yourself into thinking that he has become a stranger. 

 Or does he? 

 It feels like you both are losing yourselves together with the way you no longer know how each other’s minds work anymore. 

“I could say the same to you.” You chuckle, humorlessly at that. “I feel like I don’t know you now.” You add the last word.

 It’s true, because you have no idea who the man in front of you is.

 He dyed his hair, changed his fashion style as soon as you both broke up. He was always private with his social media presence, but suddenly, he updated twice or thrice a week. You noticed that he wore a lot of items and accessories that you know he never owned them before.

 You then divert your eyes to line with his gaze and you accentuate your words slowly.

“You know.. I spent the best 5 years of my life with you. I don’t ever really regret it. You helped me learn a lot about myself. Your love felt like a cold breeze in the summertime. It cools down every problem I have in me.” You gently chew on your bottom lip, as you prepare to say more.

“Our bodies recognize each other, we don’t.” You take a deep breath. “But I know that we shouldn’t just… use the lingering feelings or what happened between us in the past to keep this going. Whatever we do, it’s empty. It’s great, but it’s empty.” 

 He nods, deep down agreeing to what you say.

 In all those years, you’re really the only person to touch his heart and see his vulnerability, but yet still accepting him for who he is. Call him selfish for trying to keep you around as long as he can, because you were his home, and even if the love has burned and lost already, he’ll forever find his way back to you because you're the only person who provides this safety and stability in his heart.

“Do you remember…” He speaks slowly. “When I said.. That you’re my home? Were my home, but that doesn’t make it any different. I’m sorry that I’m selfish and always wanted to keep you around. I slept around a lot, I know it sounds bad, but you’re the only person who made me feel safe.” He breathes, holding in the shakiness that spreads through his body. 

“I should’ve left it that bad, but I still feel lonely. I want to feel stable– secured– or whatever, and you’re the first person I called every time. You always said I’m maybe more codependent than I show and I only prove you right. So, I’m sorry.”

 In all the years you’ve known him, you came to learn that his tough persona is contradictory to how he is as a person, or partner in general. He looks tough, but he’s more emotionally sensitive than he leads on. Looks can be so deceiving when you get reminded again that the man in front of you has never been able to deal with the empty void in his heart that well.

 He was always anxious and looked for the affection to be reciprocated and he completely threw himself at you. Somewhere along the way, you lost yourself and he began to ask himself why and what leads to the story in this cruel way. 

“Don’t apologize for it.” You say softly. “I was wrong too, I should’ve just kept that casual and ended it a long time ago. We should’ve never tangled in each other’s business like this.”

 And you mean it. You’re the type to walk out as soon as you’re done with someone. But the open, underlying vulnerability that you both shared keeps you running in a circle to meet him once again.

He softly nods, the head movement is almost invisible if you didn’t witness it yourself.

“If we could bump into each other for real next time, I hope that it’s not this way.” You sigh, not loud enough to be loud but he can easily notice the rising of your chest and the airy sound that escapes from your nose.

 You glance over at the digital clock he has one installing on the wall near you, and it seems to be almost 2 am.

 That’s when you know you should get out of here, for once and for all.

“I think I should go.” You say, standing up and getting ready to approach the front door. His eyes follow your figure and you’re aware of it.

“Yeah.” He softly whimpers out. “I hope we see each other again, in a different way too.”

 And you know that you both are putting an end to this story. That the love story will be discontinued because there’s nothing left behind that.

“Oh and..” You turn around just as you’re getting closer to the door. “Goodbye, Song Mingi.” You say as you try to give him the most authentic smile you could muster.

“Goodbye, Y/N L/N.” A little smile, with an empty, void look in his eyes as he responds back to your comment. 

 You can tell it does hurt a lot for him, just as much as it does for you.

 Then you turn around once again, unlocking the door and swing it open as you command yourself to step out of his property. And it later slams shut.

 And the story is now finished.

 Just like how your business and love is no longer affiliated with him.

 Or neither do your feelings with his.

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2024

[hanlimz]

[midnight thoughts: park jongseong + end of beginning]

rando posting on a thursday night bc this has been in my drafts 4ever. no summary you die like men. maybe i'll write a part 2. maybe.

whether the guitar is a meager subject bending to his will or an extension of his very own body, you are unable to decide. enveloped by the dim lighting and clouds of cigarette smoke, the black stained alder wood manages to melt into the obsidian of his leather jacket. the angularity of his face cuts through the darkness; the length of his nose is perfectly straight, the slant of his jaw is sharp enough to cut, and his eyebrows are two, thick lines of focus. he plays with so much precision that it almost makes you overlook the way he still purses his lips when he's concentrating—a habit he was never able to shake. it transports you back to a simpler time in which he wasn't a rockstar. instead, he was a college student studying business management who had a silly band on the side. he was a college student who never planned to make it big, who never planned to leave.

a break in the set forces you from the depths of your memories. he is almost unrecognizable as he works the crowd; a sea of people at this intimate show are screaming for him, begging for his attention, and you can't help but laugh to yourself. years ago, he used to play for you. with a timeworn guitar and a handful of hope, he shared his musings of the future. they were long-shots, pipe dreams, fantasies he entertained when his assignments proved too difficult and his imagination too wild. his voice was sultry as the nimble tips of his fingers waltzed over the fretboard; the melodies he created were happier than the ones he sings now. his stories chronicled a life with you, but now they're bittersweet—tales of olde, reminders of the past.

the show is coming to a close; the throngs of listeners are beginning to thin out. minute by minute, there are less bodies to hide behind, less background to blend into—but, you can't seem to make yourself leave. there's a part of you that wants to be seen, to be noticed by him once more. turning to the bartender, you order an elixir to forget. before you can take the first sip into oblivion, however, a shadow sits down next to you. he smells familiar—amber, sandalwood, a dark thicket. he orders a whiskey sour, and it reminds you of the first time you met. like an aged souvenir, you hold the memory delicately in the palms of your hands.

"what does it feel like, hm?" there's a momentary pause, then you hum into the thick, musky air, "to be a star?"

he takes in a labor-ridden breath. when he lets it out, it seems like more than air escapes him; the heavy exhale is almost painful as he ponders the question. a minute passes, and the quiet is stifling. "it feels good, at first. everything you want, anytime you want. but, it becomes hollow after a while—all the drinks, all the blurry faces, all the memories melting together," he admits. "it's like i'm floating, y'know ... aimless, in space, millions of miles away."

"is it lonely up there?" you ask.

"most of the time, yeah," he answers, stopping for a few seconds to think. "but, it's what i wished for. it's what i wanted."

glancing over at him out of the corner of your eye, you see he's still nursing his drink. the fingers of his left hand trace circles around the rim of the glass while he itches at his wrist with his right. the blonde streaks in his hair are tousled with a mixture of gel and sweat, and the darker parts fall forward to shield his gaze from yours. remnants of the boy you used to know, used to love are resurfacing from the deep recesses of your mind—where you had kept them hidden for years.

"you're still a terrible liar," you say.

his body tenses at the comment. as his muscles remain rigid, he scoffs, disbelieving and defensive, "what do you even know about me, anymore?"

"nothing, really ..." behind your blasé facade, there's a particular ache. his words cut you, a serrated blade shoved between the gaps of your ribs; it hurts because you know he's right. he is no longer yours to know, no longer yours to love. soon, you fear that he may not even be yours to remember—disintegrating, falling, lost to the sands of time. "i knew who you were, though. kind and gentle, the guy who would buy me flowers for no reason. every day, you would call me to tell me you loved me. you would cook dinner, light candles, wash my hair ..."

it grows quiet again; the only sounds filling the air are a symphony of closing ambience. dishes are clattering, glasses are clinking, and chairs are scratching against the floor. this time, however, the silence is not deafening. in a way, it is almost familiar—reminiscent of spring nights spent in the diner close to campus, faces full of pancakes and hearts full of joy. but, this quietude—while being peaceful—also breeds cruelty.

"i'm sorry," his voice pierces through the wisps of smoke and the faint scent of burning incense off in the distance. he leaves the rest unspoken—for leaving, for not saying goodbye, for not giving you an answer. but, you hear it. in spite of it all, you hear it. the words don't penetrate the toughened shell around your heart; instead, they echo in your mind. everything you wanted but nothing you needed.

you hesitate, "i don't know if i can believe you."

"why did you come then?" he asks, voice solemn.

pins and needles prick at the skin of your cheeks as the question makes the tips of your fingers go cold. it's almost unreal. he shouldn’t have the right to question you like this, to interrogate you like you’re the criminal—like you’re the one who left. his words make slow work of you like a bullet to the stomach. as you pour out everything for him, you come to the bitter realization that it ended this way all those years ago. it would always end this way. you, dead on the floor; him, gun in hand. “i wanted to see for myself, i guess—” you spit, “if it was all worth it.”

turning towards him, you break down the wall that time and distance had erected between the two of you. there's a ferocity that shines in your eyes; it makes them glow with a certain conviction. he avoids your pointed stare, instead choosing to swirl his watered down drink. only now do you allow yourself to take a closer look at him. his skin is pallid, a ghost of the deep, tawny beige you used to run your fingers along; the dark circles under his eyes accompany sunken cheeks and slumped shoulders. fatigue seeps down to his very being, and this life the has managed to sap the life from his veins.

"was it worth it, jongseong?"

hearing his name fall from your lips seems to send a bolt of pure lightning down the length of his spine. no one has called him that in years; the thought makes you wonder who else he left behind. the corners of his eyes crinkle as he shuts them tight, trying to be anywhere but squirming under the weight of your gaze. after a few moments, he shakes his head. it starts slowly, a gentle back and forth movement before it becomes violent and erratic. when he stops, the man finally connects with you.

his rich, umber eyes are the one of the only things you still recognize. behind the severity of his face, there is a softness dancing within them; at his waterline, tears twinkle like diamonds under a jeweler's light. jay has never cried, never felt the touch of someone who loves him for who he is—but, jongseong? jongseong misses that feeling. the freedom of being loved unconditionally, the all-encompassing warmth of not just being seen but being known.

"it wasn't worth you."

[suratan-zir]

all kinds of trigger warnings

I'm not okay. Last night, as I was trying to fall asleep, the thought of my hometown crossed my mind for a split second, a mere moment, and I teared up. It wasn't even a complete thought, just a blurry image. I didn't cry, only a couple tears that I quickly wiped away, but it's strange. It's not a good town, never was, even back then, but now it's ten times worse obviously. It's theirs now, I will most likely never see it again, not that there's anything to see there.

I'm not allowed to be sick of the war, as I'm not the one fighting in the trenches. So I'm sick of life instead, as I am indeed alive and have been for some time. I can't take any more losses. I know there are people who lost so much more than I did, yet they keep on going. But I genuenly can't lose anymore. And it makes everything too precious. When your entire world shrinks, fits into one person sleeping next to you, in one place with a leaking roof and creaky floor, in one moment of stillness. I can't bare the thought of losing it. I can't live in this all-consuming fear of losing it all any longer. And I know I'm going to lose.

I had exactly one happy year in my life. Well, it's only happy in retrospective. When I was 17-18, moved away from my absolutely horrible family, met my future husband and moved in with him. We were very poor, we fought all the time in those early years, and that was the year my bipolar disorder manifested in full strenght. The same age as my father's. But I was studying in the uni I loved, I wasn't bullied at school for the first time in my life, I had good grades and was making friends. Then 2014 came. Russians came to my city in tanks, their favorite vehicle when visiting Ukraine. It was a scary year of artillery, empty streets and store shelves, duct tape on window panes, queues for humanitarian aid food packages, sandwiches with catfood-like pate from said food packages for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Russians of course took over my uni along with everything else. And every night falling asleep to the sounds of their tanks and APCs (they moved them at night), I dreamed that these were Ukrainian tanks coming to free us. But it never was.

And despite it getting better on a surface level, it only gets worse. We're not so poor anymore, we don't fight with my husband, I accepted my mental illness and sort of made peace with it. And I was almost the happiest person on Earth for a couple of months when I moved from Donetsk, and Russia hadn't invaded us yet. I had future ahead of me, I made plans, I thought my life had just begun after all. I can't keep losing and I can't keep making it worse. In my teenage years I dealt with having a terrible family by finding even more terrible and abusive person and clinging to him for over ten years. I got so hurt by my closest friend that I never made a single close friend again. I found my husband and now can't even kill myself because I can't do that to him. Now I have something - someone - to lose. I should've end it way back when I had nothing and no one. I can't live with this fear, it's unbearable. I want it to end. I want to either wake up and realize that this war was just a nightmare, or not wake up at all.

please donate to the Ukrainian army using one of the links in my pinned post. just please, even a single penny, just do this

[rockyroadsmith]

The monsters and baby Isamu!! :3

Wow, I want to apologize that this is so late! This turned into a much larger picture than I first started and it took much longer than I planned! I’m sorry! You’ll also have to zoom in a little since it’s too wide and a bit blurry. XP

Thank you so much for your interest in Genki and Holly’s family! It warms my heart there are still people out there who enjoy them! ^_^ I plan to write a story in the future that will be a slice of life about Holly’s pregnancy and then, eventually, life raising Isamu and the different situations that arise from it.

Due to Holly’s poor health, the monsters are a huge part of Isamu’s life, each in their own way, and they all love her.

Suezo: at first he struggles with wrapping his head around how he feels about Holly’s pregnancy due to her mother’s early death and then the many complications that occur during Holly’s pregnancy, he becomes torn on how he feels. Once Isamu is born, though, she’s absolutely the apple of his eye (pun intended) and he’s so proud of his best friend. Suezo is very helpful with keeping Isamu entertained and helping with chores, but he obviously can’t do the dirtiest tasks, like changing diapers, since that would make him puke. XD

Mocchi: he starts out a little jealous at the idea of not being the “baby of the group” anymore, but this changes once he realizes Genki and Holly love him just the same. He’s a huge help with playing with Isamu and sleeps in her crib each night to keep her company. :3

Hare: due to his anatomy, he’s the most helpful of the monsters. From changing diapers, bath time, and bottle feeding, Hare does it all! This is important because due to her poor health, Holly is unable to leave the hospital for a long time after Isamu’s birth, and since Genki also has to work full time, Hare steps up to take on many duties to help the Sakura family out.

Tiger: he quickly proclaims himself as the protector of Isamu and will kick anyone’s ass who tries to hurt her. Isamu loves Tiger’s soft fur and always wants to pet him, which makes him embarrassed since he secretly loves the attention. Eventually Tiger has a seat made that can be strapped to his back so he can take Isamu out for walks and to visit Holly at the hospital. Tiger becomes even more overprotective once a few incidents occur, and he moves permanently to Toriyama.

Golem: the most conflicted of the Searchers. Golem was the most excited about Holly’s pregnancy and was the most prepared to help take care of Isamu. Unfortunately, due to his size and rocky body, the potential of hurting the baby is too high so Golem isn’t able to do much for her. This leaves Golem heartbroken, until he finds another way he can ultimately help Isamu in what may be the most impactful and unexpected way. Once Isamu is a little older, though, she loves climbing on Golem and the rock giant babysits her often. ^_^

[breella]

Secrets part 2

A/N: Part 2 to secrets! Angst with a happy ending! I'm always open to suggestions on future parts! If you haven't read part 1 you need to read it first. For some reason it isn't letting me link it here. This series is the first thing I've written in years and I'm having a lot of fun with it. Posting makes me super anxious, but I'm very appreciative of all the love I've received on part 1!

Warnings: Implied sex. Angst. That's all I can think of but if you see anything that needs to be added please let me know.

“Hello Beautiful” Eris smirked. You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. Hearing his voice after 3 weeks of no contact felt like coming home. He looked breathtaking as usual. His red locks were disheveled as if he had been running his hand through his hair. He had on a more casual outfit than he would wear in a public setting. He was leaning against the hearth with his arms crossed. A fire was blazing inside the fireplace.

It took everything in you not to run into his arms. One look at him and you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms with your lips on his. You wouldn’t do that though. You told yourself you had to be strong. You were only here to hear him out. To see if he had finally decided you didn’t need to hide your bond anymore.

“Well, I’m here. Talk.” You replied flatly. You hoped your emotions weren’t showing on your face.

“I brought apple crisp and some wine.” He smiled. “I know it’s your favorite. Care to join me in the kitchen?” He continued when you didn’t reply.

“I’m not here to play games, Eris” you replied with a sigh moving yourself to the armchair on the other side of the room. It was a calculated move. You knew if you sat on the couch, he would sit beside you and you didn’t trust yourself to be that close to him.

“I know love. I’ve been going crazy these weeks without you. You’re all that’s been on my mind. I needed to see you.”

“Well you’ve seen me. If that’s it, I’ll be leaving.” You made a move to stand. You hoped he didn’t hear your heart racing.

“Wait.” Eris pushed himself from the wall and moved to the chair directly across from your own. He looked lost in thought for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t find the words to say. He finally settled on “I’m sorry y/n.”

“That must have been hard for you Eris. Have you ever apologized to anyone before?”

“I truly mean it y/n. I never intended to hurt you.”

“What’s so wrong with me that you want to keep us hidden?” Your voice came out much weaker than you expected. You hadn’t meant to let the words slip. You didn’t want to sound so vulnerable. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes making your vision blurry.

Flames danced in Eris’s eyes as his knuckles turned white from gripping the side of the chair so hard. “Look at me” he commanded. You couldn’t help but obey. Your eyes moved up to meet his as a tear ran down your cheek. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. You are perfect in every single way. I’m sorry that I haven’t done enough to show you that.”

“If there is nothing wrong with me than why are you doing this? It made sense under the mountain. It wasn’t safe for anyone to know there. Then there was the war. It wasn’t the right time to tell anyone then. But now… now we have no excuse to hide. If you aren’t embarrassed of me and our bond, then exactly what is the issue Eris?” You stood from your chair somewhere during your questions. You moved closer to him without even realizing you’d done so. Your sadness had been replaced by anger. Black swirls of night surrounded you.

Eris stood too pushing his chair across the floor as he did. “I’m trying to keep you safe for fucks sake. Why can’t you see that?” The fire blazed in the fireplace as his own anger rose to the surface.

“Keep me safe?” you scoffed. “Keep me safe from what Eris? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” You were so sick of everyone in your life making choices about your safety without even consulting you.

“From Beron and-“ His voice was laced with anger and maybe fear.

“I am not afraid of Beron.” You cut him off. You were not going to allow Beron Vanserra to keep you from your mate.

“You didn’t see what he did to Lucien’s lover.” His voice was softer now. “He killed her y/n. He killed her for no reason other than to see Lucien suffer.” The flames in his eyes were gone now. You had never seen him look this way. He looked sad, broken.

“Eris-“ you placed your hand on his arm. It hurt you to see him this upset.

“He’s taken everything I’ve ever loved away from me” he whispered. “I can’t let him take you too. I love you.”

The air was suddenly thick. He had never spoken those words before. He had never allowed himself to say them out loud. You placed your hands on the sides of his face pulling his face closer to yours. “Beron isn’t going to take me away from you Eris. No one is. I love you too.” You placed your lips on his in a gentle kiss.

When you went to pull away his arms wrapped around your waist pulling your body into his. His lips crashed down on yours. When the two of you finally pulled apart, he gazed down into your eyes and gently tugged on the bond. “You must think I’m pathetic” he sighed adverting his gaze.

“I would never think you’re pathetic Eris. You saved me under the mountain. I think it’s noble that you want to protect me” you replied. “Although I can make my own choices. I am not afraid of Beron or any of the other risks that come along with loving you Eris. It hurts me to have to hide like this. It hurts to feel the pull of this mating bond every single day but not be with you. It hurts that I can’t talk to my family and friends about it. But I will wait for you Eris. I will wait until you figure it out because you are worth waiting for.”

“I’m ready for the world to know that you are mine” Eris replied before crashing his lips into yours once again. The kiss was intense. His tongue immediately found its way into your mouth. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him. He stumbled into furniture before backing you into a wall. “Say it” Eris growled before his lips connected with your neck.

“I’m yours” you said breathlessly as your hands roamed his back pulling at his shirt. You needed him. You needed to feel his skin against your own.

You knew you weren’t getting any sleep tonight. Your legs were going to be jello in the morning. You weren’t sure how you were going to explain it to Cassian and the others when you met them for training in the morning. You didn’t care though. You were with your mate. For the first time in over 50 years, you felt free.

[sicherheitzuerst]

Rammstein in the Rain ☔️ Brussels Night 3 / End of Tour.

I found out my coat wasn’t waterproof anymore on the walk from the tram stop to the entrance. Aces.

Bagged myself the Must have end of tour merch. The €5 rammstein bin bag poncho. Reason 476 I love this band. They’re never one to miss out on a little bit of corporate opportunism and banged a rammstein sticker on the poncho packaging. Made a mint too by the looks of it from how many people wore one.

Feuer Zone was oddly empty. I ended up pretty much where I’ve been the last 2 nights (creature of habit, hi) but 2nd row. It didn’t fill up all that much around me either. It felt quite intimate in a way, that there was just me and the few people In my periphery being performed for.

To say it rained, it rained a lot. My trainers had breached by Links and I was wet through to my underwear by the end. Most of the concert I watched through the blurry blotches of rain on my glasses as everything was too wet to try and wipe off. But I laughed, because it was so utterly ridiculous how much it was pouring down. My first night of this tour was Berlin’s 36 degree heatwave and my last is 10 degree Brussels where I could see my own breath as I sang along and the steam rising from Till as he sang and somehow still managed to sweat under the lights. His mohawk was flat before the middle of Bestrafe, even Richards usually spiked look ended up framing his face. I said in Berlin, Richard looked like he was living his best rock star life. Last night There was times his expression (and mine tbf) was that of someone definitely questioning their life choices which led them to standing out in the piss down rain for 3 hours.

Anyway, less of the weather chat.

Nothing too crazy happened, there was no mic malfunctions which given the weather was more of a miracle and there was less group wide drum stick liberation this time, Schneider was probably down to his last handful.

I’ve already shared Till joining in the stick man dance spinning his little torches. I half anticipated him coming out in an actual light suit but this was somehow better. I know whenever I’m having a bad day I’ll watch that clip back.

There was more inflatable shit brought back. Sharks, a globe, Paul had a flamingo. Till refused him landing originally with it until Paul had done some convincing. The fee seemed to be a little smooch for Till from both the blow up bird and Paul himself. Richards Intervention the previous night seemed to work as he only brought back a body board and a note. I want an end of tour photo of the band and all of the stuff they’ve collected on their boating adventures please and thank you.

Till wore a beer can helmet for mein teil. I’ve read that one can said ‘roofies’ the other ‘KO drops’ but I was too far away to confirm. Probably did though.

He stole Jens’ little go pro on a stick and caused some mischief. He didn’t stick it down his pants however which was very unlike Till.

Of the 3 Belgian shows this one felt the least atmospheric crowd energy wise which surprised me given it was the last night but I guess the weather really didn’t help.

No “see you in….” Announcement at the end which I am a little sad about but I didn’t expect anything for 2024 anyway. Wait and see. I don’t think it will be long before we know their future plans.

I’m off to the airport on 3 hours sleep, back to reality rather than my Rammstein summer. What a ride.

❤️‍🔥

[restorativemeal]

Menu Thirty-Seven

Menu Thirty-Seven from Rowan Bishop and Sue Carruthers' "The Vegetarian Cookbook".

Potato and Green Pea Curry: oil, poppy seeds, mustard seeds, onion, garlic, cumin, tumeric, coriander, pepper, dried chilli, frozen mint peas, potato, tomatoes, salt, tamarind paste, water

Nutty Carrot Loaf: wholemeal breadcrumbs, carrot, basil, margarine, water, vegetable stock, lemon, parsley, orange juice 

Celery and Apple Sambal: celery, apple, lemon Plum or Prune Raita: coconut yoghurt, red plums, cinnamon

Eternal slog, another week, by now so resigned from the process I don’t even invite my own guests. On the Friday night of the preceding week, my close and personal friend, very often a guest at my dinners, invited somebody new. In the events leading up to the invitation, my close personal friend and I had bickered over the lyrics to George Michael’s “Faith”, which had been performed at the bar by the worst cover band I ever saw. I had been pushed aside by the guitarist as he made his way on stage, this action was clouding any real judgement I could make on the band. There remains a blurry mugshot that I took of him in my iPhone’s camera roll. “‘Faith’ is one of George’s best songs,” I had said to my friend as we rested in the back courtyard of the bar. She had responded, “no, it isn’t.” 

I persisted, “you have to really listen to the lyrics.” and she paused. 

“You gotta have faith- faith- faith.” I pestered. 

Those weren’t the lyrics I meant at the time, what I wanted to get across was that I had found it heartfelt when he referred to his foolish notion of waiting for something more.

In any case, I had a new guest arriving for Week Twenty-Eight, a vegan one that I considered to also have a nut allergy by association with her boyfriend, who had not received an invitation to my dinner. Monday of Week Twenty-Eight was spent rifling through the only fresh pages of the cookbook, uncharted territory. The pages of the Vegetarian Adventure Cookbook were sticking together, tainted by dishes past. I looked ahead for remaining menus that suited the dietary requirements, landing on Menu Thirty-Seven. It was the only vegan menu in the cookbook, if you take the margarine option over butter, and I could make it allergen free by taking the walnuts out of the Nutty Carrot Loaf, to render the “Nutty” in its title redundant. To cook Menu Thirty-Seven in Week Twenty-Eight was a glimpse into the future and a taste of the end.

Tangibly, it really was, at long last, the end of March. March seemed to have brought along an onslaught of poor treatment unto me by others and to accept they weren’t part of my life anymore opened up space to rethink. I was in the middle of two self-help books trying to rectify the textbook issues that I now knew I had, the first of which dealt with facing reality, and the second with comfortably sharing this reality once I learnt to face it. I was learning about making responsible choices that served my best interest in a reality that might not necessarily be the one that I had wanted. At the supermarket I was again confronted by the car I had done something to at the beginning of March, I was beginning to feel personally victimised by its owner and I struggled to pinpoint any meaning or symbolism from its continual presence in my peripheral vision. Was it even there? Distracted with thoughts of the carpark I mistakenly picked up frozen mint peas from the freezer in the supermarket, Bishop and Carruthers had listed “frozen green peas” in their ingredient list for the Potato and Green Pea Curry. 

Wednesday of Week Twenty-Eight arrived, I was in the kitchen and it was unseasonably warm for the time of year. To make a Nutty Carrot Loaf the wholemeal breadcrumbs were placed into a bowl, along with grated carrot, seasoning, a crumbled vegetable stock cube and three tablespoons of orange juice. This was well mixed and then reconstituted with a portion of water. It went into the oven and I moved onto the Potato and Green Pea Curry. The curry came together like a standard curry, Bishop and Carruthers’ curry however, came together with a certain warmth and understanding that I had picked up from the second book I was reading, I knew intimacy and compromise and I understood fear both at a conscious and subconscious level. I was aware of mistakes I’d made in the past, including the mint peas rather than green peas. My guests arrived one by one and on this night I had eight. While they chattered in the living room I put together the remaining dishes, the Celery and Apple Sambal, and the Plum Raita. Each of these dishes contained just three ingredients respectively, and I had swapped out plain yoghurt for coconut. I finished the Nutty Carrot Loaf/carrot loaf with a twist of lemon and dash of parsley and pulled a large serving of rice out of the microwave.

Into the dining room, we sat crowded around the table. Over dinner we discussed the geriatric ward and the admin that goes into discharging a patient that has stayed for 65 days, ill-health, and lonely dinners. Meny Thirty-Seven went down with compliments, though confusion arose around the Nutty Carrot Loaf, what it was, why it was there. The Plum Raita seemed to be taken like a dessert and eaten on a side plate to cool palates after the Potato and Green Pea Curry. By the end of dinner, I broached the subject of those conscious and subconscious fears, how often we think we fear one thing, when in reality our fear is something quite different. For instance the Love Addict consciously fears abandonment, while subconsciously fearing a commitment built upon shared reality. The Love Avoidant consciously fears taking on the reality and needs of someone else, while subconsciously fearing that they’ll be abandoned (Mellody, 1992). The Love Avoidant and the Love Addict are the most riveting of all zodiac couples. When the last guest left, the newest guest, we talked about Higher Powers and what it felt like to know someone who felt like religion.

By the Thursday of Week Twenty-Eight, I was out late again, sitting on a bench with another close and personal friend, an occasional guest to my dinner parties. Enough time had passed since Wednesday night, that I had processed many thoughts. Focusing on a cookbook, was microscopic in the scheme of lifetime, I thought about the universe. The title lyrics of George Michael’s “Faith” had more importance than I thought, I had faith that everything would work out. I felt confident that moons and stars pushed and pulled in ways that they were supposed to, I had seen tangible results. Someone once said to me “sometimes the stars don’t reach the earth.” I dispute this now, because the stars always reach the earth, just not necessarily in the way that you wanted nor expected them to. In the first book I was reading this week, the author reported on a case study. At its closure he said his patient could not be described “as happy because she hasn’t that much to be happy about, but she is no longer painfully unhappy…she is gaining the strength to live a new life, finding not happiness perhaps but periods of peace, a new experience for her.” (Glasser, 1965). I was moved by the sentiment.