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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

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puddin’ pop — kamo choso.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, opposites attract, female! reader, not safe for work (nsfw), r-18, smut, body praise, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, pet names (puddin' pop, sweetie and others....), societal prejudice, love, overflowing cuteness, slice of life, humor, light-hearted, being in love, romantic gestures, healthy relationship, tender affection, sexual intercourse, aftercare, boyfriend – girlfriend relationship, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise and care, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of alcoholic consumption, mention of sexual intercourse, metal head bf! choso, pastel girlie! gf reader, pastel girlie gf! loves her metal head bf! choso so much, everyone if you're looking for love, make sure its as stinking cute and loving as this one, its what everyone deserves!!!;

WORD COUNT: 7.8k words.

NOTE: this entire thing was inspired by this art made by the lovely ushy on twitter!!! i was just dazzled and in love with the possibilities of who metal head bf choso could be like. i was enthralled. so, a lot of credit goes to ushy for creating such spectacular art that inspires me and others well!!! please check out ushy's art and support them too!!! anyway, this is the first time choso won the polls so im happy!!! i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

YOU LIKE THE FACT THAT YOU BOTH WERE DIFFERENT. Because it compliments you both so well, almost like yin and yang. At least that’s what Choso likes to say. And you agree with him. Choso and you couldn't be more different on the surface.

You were the pastel princess of the campus, always draped in floral skirts, baby pink cardigans, and bows in your hair. Everywhere you went, you seemed to bring a little sunshine and joy, something that stood out against the often drab college environment. People on campus often teased you, calling you a "walking cotton candy" or a "flower fairy."

Your boyfriend Choso, on the other hand, was a looming presence. Tall and muscular, his arms were covered in dark tattoos of skulls, serpents, and symbols no one dared to ask the meaning of. He wore black band shirts—Slayer being a favorite—ripped jeans, and chunky boots. His piercings glinted under the sun, and his eyeliner gave him a perpetual brooding look. Kamo Choso was the guy you didn’t approach unless you had to.

And because of this, people always wondered how you two could possibly be together. You couldn’t have been anymore from different worlds, galaxies entirely. Whispers never failed to follow you both wherever you went on campus, speculating that you must be too sweet for him or that he was just putting on an act. No one could see how you fit until today. And if you were being honest, you could care less about their invalid opinions.

Today was Choso’s concert with his metal band, and you hadn’t seen each other all day due to classes. And you can tell that it was already getting to you. It was fine to text him and all, but you like having your boyfriend around. You like holding him and kissing his cheeks. And he was warm. And it was getting colder. As you stood chatting with some friends outside the student union, the heads started to turn.

“Is that Choso?” one of your friends whispered, wide-eyed.

You turned, and there he was, his black combat boots stomping across the quad toward you. Your face flushed, your eyes bright eyed. Your lips peaked into a smile. But you noticed the look on his face and you couldn’t help but blink.

His face was still set in that familiar grimace that made people nervous, but you could tell immediately something was different. His hands were hidden behind his back, and his eyes flicked to the ground every few steps, like he was nervous.

“Hey, sweetie.” Choso said, his voice a soft contrast to his intimidating appearance. You could feel people watching you both, but Choso didn’t seem to notice. He reached behind him and pulled out a black band T-shirt—one with a matching Slayer skull logo to the one he was wearing.

“Uh, I was wondering if you... y’know, wanted to match tonight?” he asked, his face flushing red under the tattoos. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, as if he wasn’t the lead guitarist of one of the loudest, most intense bands on campus. He was just your beloved boyfriend Choso, looking like a shy boy asking for a favor.

There was a moment of stunned silence from the people around you. You could feel their confusion, the gears in their heads turning as they tried to reconcile the image of the “scary goth guy” with the one standing before you, blushing and fumbling over his words.

You giggled, clicking heels as you stepped closer and took the shirt from him. “Of course, babe! I’d love to match with you tonight.” You leaned up to kiss his cheek, making his blush deepen as a soft, content smile spread across his face. “I’m thankful you thought of me at all, babe. Thank you so much.”

“I always think of you a lot, sweetie.” He says to you in reply, which only made you swoon even more as you let your body embrace his own as you squealed about how much you loved him. And he smiled, as though the world was the most beautiful place.

That was when everyone seemed to get it. They saw the way Kamo Choso looked at you like you were the most precious thing in his world, how gentle he was with you despite his intimidating exterior. They realized that underneath all the black clothes, makeup, and tattoos, he was a gentle giant—soft, sweet, and completely devoted.

The campus finally understood why you worked. And yet all at once in the same breath, still not understand it at all. But you could hardly care.

As you slipped into the matching shirt, a wave of excitement ran through you. The black Slayer logo against your usual pastel aesthetic was jarring, but you loved the idea of supporting Choso in his world. Even if metal concerts weren’t your usual scene, being there for him made it all worth it.

You walked hand in hand toward the venue where his band would be performing later that evening. You enjoyed having his fingers intertwined with yours and his skin rubbing against you. You looked at him and grinned, which he returned. You both just enjoyed each other’s company, no matter what. Well, that’s what happens when you’re each other’s world.

Onlookers still stared, trying to wrap their heads around how the “campus goth king” and the “girly sunshine queen” made sense together. It wasn’t long before one of your friends caught up with you, curiosity bubbling over.

“Okay, I have to ask. How does this even work?” she asked, her eyes bouncing between Choso’s heavy chains and your flower-printed purse. “You guys are, like, total opposites.”

Choso chuckled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. You smiled up at your beloved boyfriend, feeling the warmth in his gaze before answering. You didn’t even want to stop looking at him. Your boyfriend was the prettiest, loveliest boy you ever laid eyes on. And everytime you looked at him, you just fell more deeply in love.

“Well, it’s pretty simple, really.” you started, glancing at him for confirmation. He nodded for you to continue. “We balance each other. He’s got this tough look and I’m more on the bright and bubbly side, but it’s what’s inside that really matters.”

Choso squeezed your hand and added, “She brings me a lot of peace. People think I’m all dark and broody, but if there was any color in me, its my sweetie, here. She’s the one who helps me stay grounded. And honestly, I don’t think I’d ever smile this much without her.” His eyes softened as he spoke, showing a rare vulnerability. “I just….love my sweetie, you know?”

Your friend’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, the pieces falling into place. “That’s actually... really sweet.” she admitted, looking at Choso with a bit less intimidation and a lot more curiosity. “I guess it’s just surprising because you both seem so different on the outside.”

You laughed, nudging Choso playfully. “Well, I’ve always believed it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?”

Choso smiled shyly, looking a little embarrassed but happy. “Yeah, and we love each other. Doesn’t matter if we’re all black or pastels. We’re happy together. That’s it.”

By now, more people around you were starting to take notice, seeing the softer side of Choso they’d probably never expected. It became clear to everyone that your differences weren’t a problem—they were the reason you worked so well together. You could be the sunshine in his life, and he could be the calm, steady presence in yours.

As you approached the venue together, You could see that Choso’s bandmates were setting up the stage. They were all dressed in their usual dark, edgy attire, but they greeted you with warmth and fondness. It’s been like this for as long as you remember. They’re really the nicest people you know. And you’re happy because it means your boyfriend will always be surrounded with good people. And because of that, you would be too.

“Looking good in that shirt!” one of the band members teased, smirking at Choso as if to say, You really got her to match you, huh?

Choso grinned sheepishly, clearly proud but trying to play it cool. “Yeah, well, she’s supporting us tonight. Best girlfriend ever, right?”

You giggled and nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Only for you, my baby.”

Before the show started, you found your place in the crowd. It was always the same one. Choso alway insisted that you always be near him as possible to not only make sure he knows you were safe — but so he can always see you and wink at you. And then you would blow back a kiss each and every time. It’s your boyfriend’s favorite part of the show.

You take a sip of your drink. People smiled at you and greeted you. You were a regular at the shows already. But it was always surreal being surrounded by people dressed in all black, while you, with your pastel skirt peeking out from under the band shirt, stood out like a daisy in a field of midnight roses. And all of them were happy to see you there too. Choso’s shows were always such a happy, safe space for you.

But as the music started, something magical happened.

The moment the first riff tore through the air, it was as though Kamo Choso transformed before your eyes. His quiet, reserved demeanor melted away, replaced by an electrifying energy that radiated from the stage. The powerful riffs and heavy beats pulsed through the venue, reverberating in your chest, and you could feel the intensity of every chord he struck. His hands, the same ones that were always so soft and tender when they held you, moved with precision and power across the strings, commanding the music with effortless grace.

Despite the raw energy of the performance, there was something oddly calming about watching him like this. Seeing him completely in his element, doing what he loved with such passion, brought you a quiet sense of pride.

Every note, every beat, seemed to echo the essence of who he was—fierce, strong, but also thoughtful and deeply connected to his art. And in that moment, it became clear just how much of himself he poured into his music. You could tell that the stage was where he felt most free, and watching him there made your heart swell.

As the concert progressed, the crowd was fully immersed in the music, their energy feeding off Choso’s commanding presence. But every now and then, amidst the chaos, his eyes would seek you out.

Between songs, during brief moments of stillness, he'd glance over in your direction, his gaze softening when he found you in the crowd. It was his silent way of making sure you were okay, that you were enjoying the show, and it warmed your heart to know that even in the middle of performing, he was still thinking of you.

And then, you noticed the shift in the crowd.

People started glancing between the two of you—first at Choso, then at you, as if they were piecing together something they hadn’t quite understood before. They saw the way he’d search for you with his eyes, the subtle smile that would tug at his lips when he spotted you. They saw how your face lit up, your cheers louder than anyone else's, a beacon of support and pride for him to latch onto.

It was as if, in that moment, the connection between the two of you was undeniable. The bond you shared became as visible as the music that surrounded you, a harmony of its own. Choso’s fans, who had admired him for his talent and stage presence, were now witnessing a softer side of him—a side that belonged solely to you. The glances from the crowd turned from curiosity to understanding, like they finally saw the deeper layers of the person who held their admiration.

And as the music swelled and the concert reached its climax, you could feel it too: the unspoken love that bridged the gap between the stage and the audience, a love that was yours and his, seen in every stolen glance, heard in every note. In that moment, it was as if the whole room was in tune with the rhythm of your connection, an energy that transcended the music itself.

When the final song came to an end, Kamo Choso walked over to the edge of the stage, still holding his guitar, and mouthed, “I love you.”

Your heart swelled as you mouthed it back, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. You just love him so much, and it made you the happiest person alive.

After the show, a few students from campus came up to you both, clearly still surprised but now more accepting of your relationship. One girl, who you recognized from your sociology class, shyly approached you.

“You two are actually kind of... adorable together, you know?” she admitted. “I didn’t get it at first, but seeing you both... it makes sense now.”

You smiled, giving her a nod of appreciation. “Thanks. We may seem like opposites, but we’re perfect for each other.”

As you and Choso headed home later that night, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in how you’d shown everyone that love doesn’t have to look a certain way. It doesn’t matter if you’re a pastel-wearing girly girl or a tattooed metalhead. Love is about finding someone who understands you, who balances you, and who makes your life better just by being in it.

And that’s exactly what you and Choso had—something perfectly imperfect, something that made sense in all the ways that really mattered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AFTER CLASSES SEPARATED YOU BOTH, YOU FINALLY CAME TOGETHER. You haven’t seen Choso since he got stuck for his violin recitals, so you were bored. It’s not like you weren’t doing anything in fashion classes, but you wanted to see him.

He was your energy boost. Just as much, he was your happy pill. And with a deadlock with your project, you needed to see him to freshen up. So, he finally had free time, he told you he’d come see you.

That’s also how you and Choso decided to go on a date, something simple yet special—just the two of you wandering through the city, hand in hand, without a care in the world. You were dressed in your usual soft pastels, a baby blue sundress fluttering around your legs as you walked, while Choso, in stark contrast, wore his typical all-black outfit. His band tee hung loosely over his broad frame, and his boots clunked with each step beside you.

As you entered the small café, people couldn’t help but glance in your direction, eyes widening at the sight of the unexpected pair. You were the picture of sweetness, like something out of a fairytale, while Choso looked like he just stepped off the stage of a rock concert. The two of you couldn’t be more different visually, yet anyone who took a closer look could see the way your fingers intertwined so naturally, how Choso’s eyes softened every time you spoke.

You found a cozy corner booth, and as you sat down, Choso immediately slid into the seat beside you rather than across from you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, and you smiled up at him, already feeling the warmth of his presence.

“What do you want, puddin’ pop?” you asked sweetly, your voice loud enough to catch the attention of the café staff nearby. The barista paused mid-order, eyes darting toward Choso, as if unsure she heard you right.

Choso, the ever-serious and brooding figure, glanced down at you with a soft chuckle, his fingers tracing light circles on your arm. “Whatever you’re getting is fine, babe.” he murmured, his tough exterior melting away completely in your presence.

The barista, clearly stunned by the interaction, couldn’t hold back her curiosity when she came to take your order. “You two… are so cute together!” she said, hesitantly at first. “I mean, I never would’ve guessed, but… it works!”

You laughed, used to the surprise reactions by now. “Thank you! Yeah, we get that a lot.”

The barista smiled, her nerves relaxing as she took your order. As she left, you turned back to Choso, your grin wide and playful. “See? Even she thinks you’re sweet, puddin’ pop.”

Choso rolled his eyes good-naturedly, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed how much he loved the nickname. “You and that nickname…” he muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t mind one bit.

“Well, you are my puddin’ pop, aren’t you?” you teased, leaning into his side. “You’re like pudding—soft and sweet—and a lollipop, ‘cause you’re a treat.”

Choso groaned playfully, covering his face with his free hand as if embarrassed, but the warmth in his voice gave him away. “You’re gonna make me lose all my street cred, you know that?”

You giggled, giving him a peck on the cheek. “You’ll always be the cool goth guy to everyone else, but you’re my sweet puddin’ pop.”

As the two of you enjoyed your time together, sipping on drinks and sharing pastries, people in the café couldn’t stop sneaking glances. They saw the stark differences in your appearance but couldn’t deny the undeniable connection between you.

Choso’s tough exterior was all but gone when he was with you, replaced with soft smiles and gentle touches. To them, it was unexpected, but to you, it was perfectly normal. Choso, for all his darkness and edge, was the sweetest person you’d ever met, and he showed it in every little way.

But that didn’t bother you. You and your beloved boyfriend continued to talk about things that interest the two of you. Recently, he told you about his progress in some violin concertos and you told him about your progress on your final project for the design class you were in. The world was an echo when your Choso was talking, after all.

As you left the café hand in hand, Choso gave you a loving glance. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asked, his voice quieter now, like it was just meant for your ears.

You smiled up at him, heart fluttering. “I know. And that’s why you’ll always be my puddin’ pop.”

And as the two of you strolled through the city, the sight of the goth guy and the pastel princess, people couldn’t help but admire how well you fit together. You were a perfect, unexpected match—proof that love doesn’t have to look a certain way.

As you and Choso wandered through the city, you could feel the occasional glances from passersby, but by now, you were so used to it that you didn’t even pay them any mind. Choso, however, always kept his guard up just a little, glancing sideways at anyone who looked too long. Not out of annoyance, but more out of protectiveness. Even though he was soft with you, he still liked to make sure no one thought they could mess with his sunshine.

You led him into a little boutique that had caught your eye, one filled with pastel-colored dresses, accessories, and things that practically screamed “you.” As soon as you walked in, you heard a small group of girls gasp near the entrance. You caught a snippet of their whispered conversation:

“Oh my God, is that him? The goth guy from campus?”

“Wait, that’s his girlfriend? I didn’t know they were actually dating. They’re so... different!”

“But look how cute they are together!”

You giggled softly, squeezing Choso’s hand as he rolled his eyes, his face slightly red from the attention. He wasn’t much for the spotlight when it came to your relationship, but it was hard to avoid it when everyone seemed so fascinated by the contrast between you two.

As you browsed through the racks, you couldn’t help but pull out a pastel pink sweater with tiny hearts embroidered on it. “This is so cute!” you exclaimed, holding it up for Choso to see.

He gave it a look, raising an eyebrow. “It’s… definitely you, sweetie.” he said with a smirk, though his tone was affectionate.

“Of course it is! What do you think, puddin’ pop? Would you wear it if I bought a matching one for us?”

Choso let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. I’ll stick with my black, sweetie. Thank you though."

You pouted playfully, nudging him. “Come on, just once? For me?”

Choso softened, and you could see the internal battle playing out on his face. You knew he’d do anything to make you happy, even if it meant stepping way out of his comfort zone. “Alright, fine sweetie.” he relented, sighing dramatically. “But only because you’re cute.”

Your eyes lit up, and you threw your arms around him in a quick hug. “You’re the best!”

The girl at the counter couldn’t stop staring as you and Choso approached to pay. She looked completely bewildered, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “I—I love your outfits….” she stammered, scanning the pastel sweater. “You two are really… um, adorable.”

Choso, clearly flustered, mumbled a quiet “Thanks!” while you beamed and responded. “Aren’t we? He’s my sweet puddin’ pop, after all.”

The cashier blinked in surprise, probably not expecting the goth guy who looked like he belonged in a metal band to be called something so cute. But as she handed you the bag, you caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was as if she’d just witnessed a secret that made perfect sense in some strange way.

After leaving the boutique, Choso let out a deep breath, clearly relieved to be out of the spotlight. “I can’t believe you convinced me to get a pink sweater.”

You giggled, taking his arm and leaning your head against it. “You’re gonna look so cute, though! I’ll take a picture of us together and keep it forever.”

Choso groaned, but there was a smile on his face as he shook his head. “Only for you. I swear, you’ve turned me into a complete softie, sweetie.”

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “But you’ve always been a softie. You’re just finally admitting it.”

He gave a soft, resigned laugh. “Yeah, yeah… whatever you say.”

The two of you continued your walk, eventually ending up at your favorite park. As you found a bench to sit on, the sun began to set, casting a golden glow across the trees and flowers. It was quiet and peaceful, and you felt Choso’s arm wrap around your shoulders again, pulling you close.

For a moment, everything was perfect. You didn’t care about the stares or the whispers or the way people seemed to be so fascinated by the two of you. All that mattered was how you felt when you were with him—like the world was a little brighter, a little softer.

You glanced up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You know, no matter how many people are surprised by us, I still think we’re perfect together.”

Choso smiled down at you, his eyes filled with a warmth that only you got to see. “I know. I wouldn’t trade this for anything, sweetie.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, content in your own little world where opposites didn’t just attract—they completed each other.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

YOU HAD FREE TIME, AND HE DID TOO. So, it was just right for him to come by and cuddle with you. It was a quiet evening when Kamo Choso walked into your apartment, his usual black boots clunking against the hardwood floor as he made his way to where you were curled up on the couch. You looked up from your book and smiled when you saw him, your pastel-colored socks contrasting with the dark, brooding aura he carried everywhere.

"Hey, puddin' pop." you greeted sweetly, holding your arms out for him.

Choso's lips twitched into a soft smile as he walked over to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. He settled beside you, his arm casually draping around your shoulders as you snuggled into his side. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, but you could tell there was something on his mind.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, running his hand through his messy hair. “Hey… so, I, uh… I wrote a new song, sweetie.” he started, his deep voice a little unsure.

You sat up, instantly interested. “Really? That’s amazing! What’s it about?”

His eyes darted away for a second, the usual confidence he exuded seeming to falter as his cheeks tinted pink. “Well… it’s about you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart doing a little flip at his words. “Me? You wrote a song about me?”

He nodded, clearly trying to play it cool, but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I mean… I’ve been working on it for a while. It’s for the band. I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it, though, since, you know, you’re not really big on metal.”

Your heart practically melted at his bashful tone. Choso, the brooding goth guy who looked like he could crush someone with a glance, had written a song about you? It was like every romantic dream you never knew you had was suddenly real.

“Oh my gosh, puddin’ pop!” you squealed, your hands grabbing his arm in excitement. “I want to hear it! I don’t care if it’s metal, I’ll love it just because it’s from you!”

He chuckled, a little nervous but clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. “Are you sure? It’s kinda heavy, sweetie…”

You practically jumped up from the couch, tugging him along with you. “I’m sure! Come on, I need to hear this!”

Choso laughed as you dragged him to his guitar, which he had brought over for practice. He picked it up, settling it on his lap as you sat back down, eagerly waiting for him to start. The way your eyes sparkled made his heart swell with affection. He strummed a few notes, tuning the strings before looking at you with a small smile.

“Alright, sweetie….” he said softly, his voice gentle in contrast to the deep rumble of the guitar. “Just… keep an open mind, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, clasping your hands together as if you were about to witness the performance of a lifetime. Your eyes were shining brighter than ever before. Your face was focused on him, awestruck already. It’s as if you had decided that it was already the best song in the world (which to you, it was.)

Choso took a deep breath before he started playing, the guitar riff heavy and intense, but there was a surprising tenderness woven into the melody. It was raw, powerful, but there was an undercurrent of emotion that made your chest tighten.

He began to sing, his voice low and gravelly, but the lyrics were… beautiful. They spoke of love, of safety, of someone who brought light into his dark world. Each word made your heart race faster as you realized just how deeply his love for you had inspired every note, every line.

Even though you weren’t as big into metal music as he was, you could feel the emotion behind each chord. It was him, pouring his heart into the music in a way only he could. You watched him, completely enraptured, as he sang about how you made him feel—how you were his bright spot, his calm amidst the storm.

When he finished, there was a brief silence, the air between you both charged with emotion. He glanced up at you, a little hesitant, waiting for your reaction. “So… what do you think, sweetie?” he asked quietly, his tough exterior cracking just a little as his vulnerability showed.

You didn’t even know how to put your feelings into words, so you did the only thing you could think of. You launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Oh my sweet sweet puddin’ pop! That was beautiful! Oh my God, I can’t believe you wrote that for me! I love it, I love you!”

Choso’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, his deep chuckle vibrating through his chest as he held you close. “You really liked it? Even though it’s, you know… metal?”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, your smile wide and full of love. “It doesn’t matter what genre it is! You put your heart into it, and I could feel it. It was perfect.”

Choso’s smile softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’m glad. I just… wanted you to know how much you mean to me. You’re everything, you know?”

You felt your heart swell, your love for him overflowing. “You’re everything to me too, puddin’ pop. I can’t believe you wrote me a song,” you gushed, still in awe of how deeply his love for you translated into everything he did.

Choso blushed again, clearly not used to being fawned over like this. “Well… you inspire me, sweetie.” he mumbled, his voice gruff but full of affection. “Always.”

You grinned, resting your head against his shoulder as he held you close. “I’ll always be your biggest fan, no matter what. Even if I’m not the biggest metalhead.”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your hair. “That’s all I need.”

You stayed wrapped in Choso's arms for a while, the warmth of the moment lingering between the two of you. His heart was still pounding against your cheek, and it was clear that even for someone as stoic as him, sharing the song with you had meant the world.

"I can't believe you were nervous about showing me that, hm?" you whispered, tracing little circles on his chest. "It was so beautiful. The way you turned your love into music... you’re amazing, puddin’ pop."

Choso let out a soft, almost bashful chuckle. “Yeah, well… it’s easier to play it in front of a crowd than just for you. I wanted it to be perfect, sweetie.”

Your heart melted at his honesty, and you squeezed him a little tighter. "It was perfect. And it just makes me love you more."

Choso smiled softly, the tough-guy act completely dropped as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “Good.” he said quietly. “Because I’ll probably write a dozen more songs about you.”

You laughed, your cheeks flushed with warmth. "Promise?" you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Promise, sweetie.” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, slow and tender.

There was something about Choso’s kisses that always made you feel like the world had stopped for just a second—like the two of you were the only ones who existed. And in moments like this, it didn’t matter if you didn’t share his love for metal music or if your pastel wardrobe clashed with his dark, edgy style.

When the kiss ended, you both settled back on the couch, with Choso resting his guitar against the wall. You nestled into his side, your fingers laced together. The silence between you was comfortable, but you could tell there was still something on his mind.

“I’m thinking about playing it at our next gig, sweetie.” he finally said, glancing down at you. “I’d want you there… if you’re up for it.”

Your eyes widened with excitement. “You want me there when you play it? Of course, I’d love to be there!”

Choso looked relieved by your enthusiasm, though there was still a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “It’ll be loud, though. Probably going to be louder than our last gig since it’s with other metal bands.”

You grinned, nudging him gently. “I’ll bring earplugs, don’t worry. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I want to be there when you play our song, you know?”

Choso’s gaze softened, and he squeezed your hand. “You don’t know how much that means to me, sweetie. It’ll be the first time I’ve played a song that personal.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Well, now it’s personal to me too. I’ll be there, cheering you on in my pastel outfit, and I’ll make sure everyone knows I’m the one you’re singing about."

He chuckled, imagining the sight of you in the crowd, all sweetness and sunshine, while his band rocked out on stage. “You’ll definitely stand out, sweetie.” he said with a teasing smirk.

“Good! I want everyone to know I’m your biggest fan, puddin’ pop!” you replied with a grin.

Choso kissed the top of your head, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “You always have been.”

The rest of the night was spent in quiet contentment. You stayed wrapped up in each other, talking about his band, the upcoming concert, and the thought of hearing your song live for the first time. Choso shared little stories from his rehearsals, his voice full of excitement whenever he mentioned the moment he’d finally reveal the song to the audience—and to you.

“I’m already planning my outfit!” you joked, imagining what you’d wear to one of his gigs. “Something cute but not too out of place.”

Choso laughed, pulling you closer. “Wear whatever you want. I’ll be proud to have you there, no matter what.”

You looked up at him, your eyes full of love. “I’ll be there in the front row, cheering for you. And afterward, we’ll celebrate with a giant lollipop, since, you know, you’re my puddin’ pop.”

Choso groaned, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red, but the smile on his face didn’t fade. “You’re never gonna let that nickname go, are you?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Never. It’s part of the deal.”

He rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his voice was undeniable. “I guess I can live with it… as long as you keep being my inspiration.”

And with that, the two of you fell into a peaceful silence again, your hearts full of love. As the night continued, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were. Choso might’ve been tough on the outside, but underneath all of that was the sweetest, most caring person you’d ever met. And now, knowing he’d written a song about you, you felt even closer to him than ever before.

No matter how different you seemed on the outside, Choso’s love for you translated into everything he did—from his quiet moments with you to the powerful music he created. It was all a reflection of the way he saw you, and it made you fall even deeper in love with your sweet, tough, and tender-hearted puddin’ pop.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE FOR BOTH OF YOU SINCE ITS FINAL WEEK. Your metalhead boyfriend Choso finally arrives at your dorm, his presence immediately filling the room with warmth. He steps in close, his strong hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. His breath is warm on your skin as he leans down, his lips softly grazing the sensitive area around your ear.

"Want to do it, sweetie?" he murmurs, his voice husky, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his lips because he knows your answer already. “I missed you….”

“I missed you too, puddin’ pop.” You whispered back, a sly smile on your lips. Your eyes lustfully gazing back at him. “So so so much….”

“Just how much, sweetie?”

“A lot.” You whispered as your fingers trailed onto your thighs and a little bit lower. Choso was already sure what he’d find down there. He knows you too well. His little sweetie. “Help me, puddin’ pop. I need you.”

As soon as you give him the slightest confirmation, he effortlessly scoops you up, cradling you in his arms like you weigh nothing. His lips never leave your skin as he walks you towards the bedroom, each kiss a little more insistent, a little more needy. Between the kisses, he leans in close to your ear, whispering the dirtiest, most wicked things, his words making your skin tingle.

As Choso carries you, his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of heat with every kiss. His grip tightens slightly around your waist, the tension building with each step toward the bedroom. The way he whispers into your ear, voice low and raspy, sends shivers through your entire body. His words are teasing, laced with promises that make your mind race, each one more wicked than the last.

He lays you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours, eyes dark with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. His hands roam your body, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment, every inch of your skin. His kisses grow deeper, his whispers more urgent, as his desire for you becomes undeniable.

"You're mine tonight, sweetie." he breathes, his voice thick with lust.

You smiled. “I always was, puddin’ pop.”

Choso’s lips crash against yours, the intensity building as his hands explore your body with purpose, claiming every inch of you. His touch is firm yet careful, as though he’s memorizing the way you react to each kiss, each graze of his fingertips. His words, laced with that rough edge, never stop.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day, sweetie.” he mutters between kisses, his breath hot against your skin as he trails his lips back down to your neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

He pins your wrists gently above your head, holding you in place, his eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity. He leans down again, his lips brushing your ear as he growls softly, “I want to hear you say my name… over and over.”

His words send a rush of heat through your body as he lowers himself, every movement slow, teasing, deliberate, until the anticipation becomes almost unbearable. The room feels electric, the air between you charged with desire, as he continues to whisper the dirtiest, most enticing things.

Choso’s hands slide down your arms, his grip firm yet tender as he keeps you pinned beneath him. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss before trailing back to your neck, down to your collarbone, teasing with every move. The way he takes his time with you, savoring each reaction, has you breathless.

"You're so perfect for me, sweetie." he whispers, his voice thick with lust and affection. "I love watching you like this."

His hands move lower, fingers tracing your sides, sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer, his body pressing against yours. He kisses you deeply again, the kind of kiss that makes your head spin, before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m not stopping until you’re completely mine tonight, sweetie.” he growls softly, his words dripping with intensity. The way he says it sends a rush of anticipation through your entire body, making you ache for his touch even more.

Without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself further, his kisses moving lower, trailing heat in their wake. Every touch, every word leaves you feeling completely consumed by him, the world around you fading away until it's just you and him, tangled together in this moment that feels both endless and electrifying.

Choso’s kisses become more intense, his pace deliberate yet teasing, as if he’s relishing the control he has over every inch of your body. His hands trace slow, burning paths along your skin, each touch igniting a fire inside you. He knows exactly how to make you melt beneath him, every movement calculated yet filled with raw passion.

He leans back up, his eyes locking onto yours, dark with desire. "I love how you react to me, sweetie." he murmurs, voice dripping with a mix of dominance and affection. "The way your body responds... it drives me wild."

His fingers trail lightly across your chest before grabbing hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, his breath ragged with anticipation. His lips return to your ear, teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin as he whispers, "You're going to scream my name tonight."

The way he says it sends shockwaves through your body, the desire in his voice leaving you aching for more. His hands grip you tighter as he kisses you deeply, his passion consuming you entirely. Every whispered promise, every soft growl, every lingering touch leaves you yearning for more, completely lost in the moment, knowing he’s not letting up until you’re both completely spent.

"You’re mine, just mine." he growls, his voice low and possessive, making it clear that he’s going to fulfill every wicked promise he’s made tonight.

Choso’s lips crash against yours once more, each kiss more urgent and consuming, as if he’s claiming you entirely. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your body beneath his, the heat between you growing unbearable. The intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch, his gaze full of need, raw desire, and something deeper — a craving that goes beyond the physical.

He presses his body closer, his breath hot against your skin as he continues to whisper the dirtiest, most intimate words in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t know how much I need you right now, god…..” he murmurs, his words laced with desperation and control.

His touch becomes rougher, more insistent, as he moves in rhythm with the tension building between you. Every kiss, every graze of his fingertips, pulls you deeper into the moment, making you forget everything else. It’s just you and him, the weight of his body pressing down on you, the way his voice rasps your name in between breaths, each sound sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Say my name, sweetie." he growls, his voice husky, lips hovering near your ear. "I want to hear it. I want to hear how much you need me."

“Cho, cho—” You choked in pleasure as he continued to find him satiating you with pleasure over and over. “Baby, p–puddin’ pop. Please. Oh—”

You feel yourself slipping, losing control as his words become more possessive, each touch pushing you closer to the edge. The room feels smaller, the air heavy with heat and desire as Choso claims you again and again, each time more intense than the last.

And just as you think you can’t take any more, he leans down, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers, “You’re mine. Only mine. Sweetie, you know that right?” His words linger in the air, echoing through the haze of pleasure that surrounds you both, sealing the night with a promise only the two of you can understand.

“I do, I do.” You moaned out in a frenzy. “Baby, my puddin’ pop, I do. O–only, uh…only yours!”

Choso’s pace quickens, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if he’s on the verge of losing control himself. His grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer, the weight of his body grounding you while pushing you to the edge of sensation. His lips are everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, your lips—claiming you with every kiss, every touch.

Your breaths come in ragged gasps as the tension builds between you, the heat reaching an unbearable peak. He groans softly, his voice thick with need as he whispers, "I’m right there with you... just let go for me." His words are a command and a plea all at once, and the sound of his voice is enough to push you to the brink.

With a final, shuddering thrust, the world around you seems to fall away, the pressure inside you finally releasing in a wave of pure ecstasy. Choso’s name tumbles from your lips, over and over, exactly the way he wanted. His own breath hitches as he follows you into that climax, a deep, guttural groan escaping his throat as his body tenses against yours, the pleasure overwhelming him too.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure, holding you tightly as if he never wants to let go. His fingers gently stroke your skin now, soft and soothing in contrast to the intense passion you just shared.

For a moment, everything is quiet, just the sound of your mingled breathing filling the room, the intensity of the moment settling into a soft, shared intimacy. Choso presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a low whisper as he says, “You’re everything I need, sweetie.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. epilogue

As the intensity fades and the world starts to come back into focus, Kamo Choso gently eases himself beside you, his arms never leaving your body. His expression softens, all the hunger and fire replaced with tenderness as he looks at you, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek.

"You did so good, sweetie." he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch is slow, deliberate, as he strokes your hair, helping you come down from the high. He wraps the blanket around both of you, pulling you into his chest, his body warm and comforting against yours.

He reaches for a water bottle on your bedside table, offering it to you with a small smile. "Drink up, hm?" he says gently, knowing how much you need it. After you take a sip, he tenderly kisses your temple, his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back.

The atmosphere shifts into something soft and intimate, his hands carefully massaging your sore muscles, making sure you feel cared for. His voice is low, murmuring sweet reassurances, "I've got you… I’ll take care of you."

Once he's satisfied that you're comfortable, Choso shifts so you're nestled in his arms, your head resting on his chest. He stays close, his fingers gently stroking through your hair, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. There's a certain peace in the quiet moments after everything, and you feel completely safe with him, wrapped up in his warmth.

"You know I’m not going anywhere tonight, right?" he says softly, his voice laced with affection. He leans down to kiss the top of your head, his arms tightening around you protectively. "I’ll be here, all night, right next to you."

The two of you lie there, tangled in each other, as the night settles around you. The outside world doesn’t matter anymore—just the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

As sleep starts to pull you in, Choso whispers, “I love you, sweetie.” his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. And in that moment, everything feels perfect, knowing he’ll be right there when you wake up. Your beloved metalhead boyfriend.

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 month ago

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Day 22: heirloom

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

The idea that in just a couple of days you were going to marry Spencer Reid felt unreal.

Your dream had always been to get married and start a small family with a good man: one who was gentle, hardworking, and, of course, kind.

Spencer adored you. There wasn’t a moment in the day when he wasn’t attentive to your needs, and even when work demanded a lot of his time, he made sure to stay in touch. He cared about you.

You doubted there were any words to describe the feelings you had for him. Love seemed like too short of a word compared to how you would practically give him your life if it made him happy. You were sure that the main reason you could sacrifice everything for him was that you knew your fiancé would never ask you to do such a thing.

You had gone to pick up your wedding dress from a fashion house that specialized in modernizing them, so you could wear what had once been your late mother’s dress. You thought it would be a nice way to honor her and let her know that you were now walking down the aisle, just as she had always hoped to see.

“Knock, knock,” you heard a voice at the door of the room that was serving as your dressing room.

Your future husband was wearing a dark brown tweed jacket, and his wavy hair fell gracefully around his face. Maybe it was the excitement of your upcoming wedding, but you found him more and more handsome, with that fair skin and those pink lips that made you want to cover him in kisses.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, I just tried on the dress a moment ago, and everything is perfect,” you said happily. He approached you, put his arms around your waist, and stole a kiss. “I look pretty.”

“You always look pretty,” he added. It seemed that this mutual adoration was shared because, at that moment, Spencer was looking at you as if he saw the sun, the moon, and the stars in your eyes.

“Do you want to see the dress?”

“No,” he quickly replied. “It’s bad luck.”

“Seriously?” you huffed, incredulous.

“They say it can ruin the ceremony or the marriage, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“For a man of science, you turned out to be quite superstitious.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he murmured, pouting a little, which you had no trouble kissing away. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“Something’s going to go wrong, that’s inevitable. Maybe I’ll trip on my way to the altar, your suit will catch fire, a guest will get aggressive, the priest won’t show up, we’ll get completely drunk, have sex, and I’ll get pregnant…”

“Everything sounds catastrophic except the last part,” he mused, making you laugh.

Your fiancé had been more affectionate lately, and you let him kiss your cheek. Slowly, he sniffed your face, moved to your hair, and finally nibbled gently on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

“Spence…”

“I brought you something,” he whispered, his voice velvety near you.

You missed his warmth when he pulled away, rummaging through his pocket. You waited patiently and then saw him offer you a small burgundy box.

“But I already have my engagement ring, handsome,” you laughed, showing him your left hand.

Spencer shook his head and said it was something else, so curious about the contents of the box, you did as he asked. Inside was a beautiful gold locket, with a light blue surface and a white engraving of a bird flying near some flowers.

“It belonged to my mother,” he explained. “It’s kind of a family heirloom. It was supposed to be passed down through the daughters, but Mom only had me. And the week I was in Las Vegas, I asked her if I could give it to you.”

“Is that a hummingbird?”

“Yes. They have many spiritual meanings, but in this case, symbolize that our love is light, joyful, and enduring, as hummingbirds can travel great distances despite their size. It could also be a symbol of hope for a bright future for us.”

As he explained, you felt strangely moved by it all. You had never received anything like this before, and you always thought this kind of tradition was reserved for aristocratic or wealthy families. But no, your future life partner was offering you this treasure because he wanted you to continue that tradition, implying that one day you would have a daughter to pass it on to.

“There’s nothing inside.”

“You can put whatever you want in it.”

“I’ll put a picture of my husband,” you said with a smile, reaching up to place your hand on his cheek. “I love it. Thank you so much for giving it to me.”

“Mom was so happy. She loves you a lot.”

“And I love her. I’m grateful she’s letting me steal her son.”

“And she thinks the opposite. She’s happy to know I’ll be in good hands, with someone who loves and cares for me.”

You were drunk on love for him. You knew that, like everything in the world, relationships had their complications, but sometimes you liked to think Spencer was the perfect man for you.

Children always assumed their parents were soulmates, and you knew with certainty that yours wouldn’t be wrong.

Suddenly, one of your hands moved on its own to his hair, twirling a lock around your finger.

“How strange would it be if I put one of those golden curls I love so much in my locket?”

“In this situation, it’d be romantic, actually. But if you were a stranger, it’d be classified as stalking and could escalate to homicide.”

Laughter burst from your chest, and he smiled to himself, pleased he had made you laugh.

“I still find it hard to believe we’re getting married. It’s so strange.”

“In a bad way?”

“No, no. I mean, it feels… like a dream. I feel too happy for it to be real.”

“Well, I assure you it’s very real,” he assured you, holding you tenderly.

Even if Spencer didn’t tell you he loved you (which he did all the time), just looking into his eyes would be enough for you to know. Those honey-colored eyes, like a deer’s, that refused to look at anyone but you.

A phone call interrupted your moment, and you caught a glimpse of the contact name: David Rossi. Spencer greeted him kindly but somewhat confused, and as the conversation progressed, his frown deepened. You heard him tell the man several times that it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t want him to go to the trouble, and he shook his head more times than you could count. But apparently, his friend was insistent on the matter, whatever it was.

“Is everything okay?”

“Rossi wants us to go to a wine tasting now. He says he’ll cover the cost of all the drinks for the wedding reception.”

At that moment, you understood why Spencer had been so adamant in refusing, and you were quite surprised by the offer. David knew you, but you didn’t expect him to offer something on that scale.

“Isn’t that too much?”

“I tried to tell him, but he’s as stubborn as a mule. He insists it’s a special occasion since the baby of the unit is getting married.”

A soft exclamation escaped your lips, and Spencer chuckled, not entirely pleased that you agreed with the nickname.

“Everyone loves you so much. We love you so much.”

You stood on your tiptoes to give him one last (or so you hoped) kiss on the cheek and hurried to grab the bag with your dress. You were about to leave when you stopped in your tracks, telling him you had forgotten something.

“What is it?”

“I forgot to ask for your help fastening my locket.”

He smiled and happily obliged, taking special care with the task. From that day on, the piece of jewelry became practically a part of you. And, as tradition dictated, it was passed on to your daughter when someone was worthy of receiving it.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2024 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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fishsinsareacknowledged · 5 months ago

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Lost conversations —Konig x Reader -Sfw/Some cursing/mentions of fucking.

Drunk König who's infinitely calmer than his usual.

"Schatz?"

He asks, waiting for a response. His head lolls on your shoulder, brain full and stuffy. Thinking of everything and nothing at once.

"Hm?"

You respond, your voice filling his brain and echoing off the walls of his thick head for a moment before he actually processes it.

Well. Better now than later.

"Marry me."

A pause. Then two. Maybe kidnapping you would be quicker.

"König, you're drunk."

"Ja and?"

He knows you would, maybe someone's forcing you not to. He'd kill them if that's what it takes.

"You...you just confessed to me a week back König."

Oh, is that it?

"I have known you for years by now Schatz."

Should he get you a diamond ring? Maybe moissanite, he's heard it shines brighter.

"...What about the wedding. Do you even want one?"

Ah, you're actually considering it.

"Ja, not if you don't want to of course."

"So just what? Make me sign the papers hm?"

Oh, you're just entertaining him. He'll take that.

"And a ring, anything you'd like."

"Make it all shiny and expensive yeah?"

When did you start carrying him? Ah nevermind, his quarters were close either way. He shouldn't lean too much but his shoulders felt heavier than usual.

"Only for you."

"What about a necklace instead hm big boy? Can't really be caught out here fraternizing can we?"

What a fucking joke. Getting married to you is much more important than those people.

"I'm a fucking colonel Schatz if the higher ups knew I was trying to fuck they'd congratulate me on finding a hobby."

That earned a laugh out of you, you always liked it when he was brutal with his words. Fuck, he had to have you.

"So what? That's it? A ring and some papers, doesn't sound very romantic does it?"

Romantic, what a rip off. He'd kill himself and the whole base if you'd ask him to and you were asking about how romantic it is. fine. He'll be romantic.

"Flowers."

He manages to groan out, women liked those right? Something about the symbol of romanticity, probably even a bouquet but who cares? His Oma always loved the flowers back home, maybe you did too.

"Ah of course flowers, a woman's dream. What says I couldn't buy myself flowers hm tough guy? Anything to counter that or are you too wrecked?"

The main event of a wedding were the promises right? And the bride of course. Mostly promises.

"Vows, I'll speak my vows. I'll sign them on paper, record them if you must but they will be. I just- marry me please Schatz I need-"

A stumble and he's grunting off the floor right infront of you, he would be much more embarrassed if he hadn't already thrown up on your feet a few years back.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Is all he hears before he blacks out, a forgotten conversation yet he knows it's a memory he can feel. A memory that he can't even remember clearly but can understand. He just needs to marry you, Schatz.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

Masterlist

#cod #call of duty #hcs #konig x you #konig x reader #cod konig #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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okeyyyy!

but we need a Grid Kids that maybe y/n and seb were in an car accidente (and y/n took the worst of it) and now the roles are reversed, now they are gonna take care of them

Loving this series so much

Grid Kids: UNO Reverse Card

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the roles are reversed when disaster strikes and your grid kids make it their duty to take care of you

Series Masterlist

The rain is pouring down and the paddock is filled with the usual organized chaos accompanying a wet race. The garages are lively with the sounds of mechanics tuning engines, engineers going over data, and drivers preparing for the race.

Suddenly, a deafening silence descends as a member of the Aston Martin team rushes in, face pale and voice shaking, “There’s been an accident. It’s Sebastian and Y/N.”

The news spreads like wildfire. The paddock, usually filled with the roars of engines and excited chatter, is now eerily quiet. Your grid kids, upon hearing the news, rush to find out more details, their faces masks of concern.

A shaky video from a fan’s phone plays on loop on their screens, showing the aftermath of a devastating collision. Your car is almost unrecognizable, crushed, with the driver’s side visibly less damaged.

George, having seen the video, collapses onto a nearby chair, tears streaming down his face. “This can’t be happening,” he whispers.

Lando, usually the life of the party, stands frozen, disbelief evident in his eyes. Mick, face ashen, tries to make calls to get more information while Lance rushes to find his father to find out if the team has heard anything more.

***

Soon, details emerge that you bore the brunt of the impact and your condition is critical while Sebastian, though injured, is stable. The helicopter is already airlifting you to the nearest hospital.

As the severity of the situation sinks in, your grid kids, in an unprecedented move, gather together for an emergency meeting. The weight of the decision is clear in their eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, Charles stands up, his voice firm yet choked with emotion, “We’re pulling out. We can’t race knowing Y/N is fighting for her life. We need to be there for her, just like she’s always been there for us.”

The decision is unanimous. One by one, they all agree. Telling their teams and the FIA descends the paddock into even more chaos.

***

The hospital waiting room is filled with a mix of team colors. Red from Ferrari, orange from McLaren, deep blue from Red Bull, green from Aston Martin, white from Haas, and black from Mercedes. The fierce rivalry that usually defines race weekends is nowhere to be seen. Instead, they’re united in their concern for you.

Sebastian, despite his injuries, is by your bedside, holding your hand, praying silently for a miracle.

As the hours drag on, the grid kids take turns sitting by your side, sharing stories, hoping their voices provide some comfort, even in your unconscious state.

Mick, teary-eyed, recalls, “Remember when I missed my dad? You were there for me.”

Lando adds, “And when I just wanted milk? You welcomed me like family.”

Charles, voice filled with emotion, says, “We’re here now, for you, just like you’ve always been for us.”

***

As night turns into dawn, there’s a shift. Your vitals start stabilizing and the worst seems to be over. The relief is palpable as the somber mood hanging over your family fades away.

Sebastian, tears of gratitude in his eyes, thanks each one of them. “She’s strong, and with all of you here, I knew she’d find a way to fight through.”

***

A week has passed since the accident and you’re now firmly in the recovery phase. The room is overflowing with flowers, cards, and quirky gifts — each one a symbol of just how much you mean to the racing community.

As you slowly regain consciousness, groggy from the medication, the first thing you spot is a balloon, bobbing near the ceiling, with the words “Speedy Recovery!” It has a little caricature of you in a race car with your cat (in a tiny sweater) on your shoulder. Another one reads, “Get back on track soon!”

Mick enters the room with a tray, “Look who’s awake! I made you my special recovery smoothie. Okay, it’s mostly chocolate ... but it’s the thought that counts.”

Charles follows, holding a peculiar-looking teddy bear dressed in a racing suit. “Meet Racy. He’s going to keep you company. We tried to smuggle Speedy in under our hoodies but got caught so this is the next best thing.”

Lando waltzes in, proudly holding up a t-shirt with “I survived a car crash and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” printed on it.

Max pops his head around the door, holding a full-sized F1 helmet, “You better wear this the next time you get in a car.”

George, with his trademark smile, presents a plush safety car. “To keep you safe and sound, always.”

Lance, trying to contain his grin, brings in a steering wheel cushion. “For those moments when you feel the need to take control of your recovery.”

You can’t help but chuckle at their antics. “You guys ... always know how to lighten the mood.”

Sebastian, holding your hand, grins, “They’ve been brainstorming ways to cheer you up nonstop for days now.”

***

Determined to keep things positive, your grid kids rally together for a surprise. As the evening descends, they transform your room into a mini-movie theater. They even managed to sneak in a projector.

The movie choice? “Cars” of course.

Lance, armed with a bucket of popcorn, declares, “I mean, if we can’t race real cars today, might as well watch animated ones!”

Mick dims the lights and George hits play. As the familiar sounds of the movie fill the room, everyone settles in ready for a night of laughter.

***

It doesn’t take long for the grid kids to turn the movie night into their own commentary session.

As Lightning McQueen races across the screen, Max quips, “I think I could’ve taken that turn better.”

Lando, laughing, chimes in, “And Mater reminds me of Charles after a few too many energy drinks.”

Charles feigns outrage, “That’s unfair! I’m at least 10 percent more sophisticated than Mater.”

You, through bouts of laughter, shake your head, “Honestly, I can’t decide what's better, the movie or your commentary? You guys might have a future on a broadcast somewhere if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out.”

As the credits roll, Sebastian whispers, “This is exactly the medicine you needed.”

Your grid kids truly make the day memorable, proving that through thick and thin, family — in whatever form it may take — is everything.

***

The sun is high and the paddock is buzzing with energy as preparations for the upcoming race are in full swing. As you and Sebastian approach, there’s a sudden almost comedic halt in activity. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on a remote. Everyone turns to face you, jaws dropped.

Lance feigns fainting, “Is it a mirage? Or has our beloved Y/N truly graced us with her presence?”

Max approaches with an exaggerated limp, mimicking you, “Thought I’d get into the spirit of things,” he says with a smirk.

George emerges from the crowd holding a makeshift red carpet (it’s just a red towel he stole from Ferrari), rolling it out in front of you. “For our returning queen,” he declares with a bow.

Charles and Lando appear, each holding one end of a “Welcome Back” banner. You try to turn your head to read it … they accidentally held it upside down.

You’re trying hard to hold back tears of laughter. “You guys are impossible,” you manage to say between your chuckles.

Mick, with a gentle smile, approaches holding a small framed photo. It’s of you surrounded by all your grid kids, taken during a race earlier in the season, with the inscription “Family, Always.”

Touched by the gesture, you softly say, “Thank you so much, Mick. This means a lot.”

“You’ve always been there for us,” he replies. “It’s only right that we’re here for you.”

Sebastian, wrapping an arm around you, adds with a grin, “I think they missed you.”

You really loved your grid kids.

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neil-gaiman · 9 months ago

Note

Hi Mr Gaiman, I hope your day is going well.

I can't say I'm looking for anything other than the comfort of talking to someone I don't know, and I apologize that for some unknown reason you are the only 'wiser older being' I can think of other than God. I'm 16, and because of forces outside of my control, I don't know if i can continue living normally. My family is loving, I am safe in my home, I currently have it better than most of the people in my country, I am not suicidal, but I'm terribly scared. Every time I watch the news or see my parents/teachers talk to each other, I feel this unexplained sensation that my life is getting shorter and shorter.

Mr. gaiman, I feel like I'll never get to finish high school. I'll never get to visit my grandparents' old house since the town evacuated. My aunt and her family are still up in the north, they send us videos every time they see rockets in the sky, and I debate sending 'goodbye' and 'I love you' one more time just incase. I'm terrified for them, for the people under the rubbles of their homes, for the people in foreign places that still don't know if they'll live, for the kids with no parents, for parents with no kids. I remember being nervous to talk to my friends about what we'll do when we go to the army in a few years, but as long as we keep in touch we're sure we'll be alright. I remember what I wanted to be when I'll grow up, I wanted to move, get an apartment in Porto Fino or go to meet my uncles in Viana, and translate books.

I remember it was the last few days of holiday vacation before it started, I remember it was still warm outside, and I still possessed the privilege to live.

Mr. gaiman, these days I'm learning that while I get to be luckier than most by simply being alive, I will always feel just one alarm sound away from sharing the same fate of my great-grandparents. From a young age I've seen black and white pictures of them, and so many others, and was told: 'they were here, they were alive, and you get to live the dream they died for'. I don't want to die on unfulfilled dreams.

I apologize for making you deal with this, but I want to be remembered by someone from outside who will get to live longer than me, or so I hope.

I'm 16 and a half. My brother just turned 11. I'm about to fail the test I have tomorrow. My tattoo just fully healed - the flowers symbolize undying love. I learned English on my own. I collect records with my dad. I study American history. I love your books. I bake when I feel down. I am alive. I if I die I hope it will be in a bomb shelter.

All I can wish you now is luck, good fortune, and the hope that you and your loved ones survive and that the world heals. I hope your generation helps heal the mess that previous generations have left you in.

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xenteaart · 6 months ago

Text

it's not about the roses

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but despite a brief mention of the studio it can fit any au, really) word count: 1,1k genre/warnings: er, fluff, a hint of angst if you squint but overall just tooth rotting sweetness. reader being kinda vulnerable author's note: inspired by my and @skzms 's channie brain worms, me crying over how boyfie he is in may's dms and her coming up with this little prompt. i'm manifesting a sweet healthy relationship for y'all, never settle for less <3

you were never the one for flowers, really.

it just didn’t seem anything meaningful or special, an occasional cute little bouquet on some first date you had ages ago, meeting someone completely new after mindlessly swiping them right on a dating app. plus, it’s always such a bother to take care for it. disassemble the thing, cut the stems, change the water, maybe cut off the leaves too.

at some point, you began to think of yourself as more of a practical person, taking gift giving to the point where it completely lost symbolism. always getting your friends and family either money or something they specifically asked for.

“at least, they’re actually gonna use it and get some utility out of it. ‘s good, right?” you thought to yourself, ticking a box on one of your friend’s wishlists for their birthday. it is good. no stress of choosing and endlessly pondering whether they’ll like it or not.

or is it avoiding the vulnerability of going down a more symbolic route if they don’t happen to respond to your gift the way you’d like them to after carefully planting hidden meanings and confessions all over a seemingly useless present? yeah, maybe, that’s the one, actually.

it was a regular saturday evening, no work, no plans, no big day or anything to celebrate. so, naturally, you were just spending the time at your place, resting after successfully having done all the house chores in one go.

purposelessly lying on the bed, you wondered what chris was up to. it wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you two to leave each other hanging during the day, keeping each other’s messages unread and waiting for some free time to give a thoughtful, proper reply.

but the little “1” next to your kakaotalk message was starting to feel unfriendly because... honestly? you just missed him. you wanted to know about his day, what he ate for lunch and whether work was okay today (knowing full well the man couldn’t care less about days of the week, coming over at the studio any time he needed or pleased).

distracting yourself with scrolling tiktok for a quick dopamine hit, you end up losing track of time a little. and the thing bringing you back to reality is chan’s short message, popping up on your notifications bar.

“can you come out for a sec? i’m at the door hehe~”

it takes you three times to read to finally understand what it actually means. he doesn’t have keys to your apartment yet, and you mostly hang out at his place anyways, so him coming all the way to the opposite side of the city makes your heart skip a beat.

you rush to the door and open it almost immediately, only to see channie, your channie, standing right in front of you with a nice bouquet of red roses wrapped up in kraft paper. the next thing you notice is chan’s wide smile, so sincere and endearing it makes you wanna cry on the spot.

you were never the one for flowers, really.

red roses always seemed like something either too vulgar or “easy”. something that becomes men’s first pick because they just never care enough to look for anything else and assume every girl loves it by default.

right now, however, it doesn’t feel like either of those.

the way chris is a bit nervous and really excited all at once; his hands gripping at the crunchy paper-wrapped base as he's waiting to give the flowers to you. the way his eyes sparkle and shine with warmth and genuine adoration for you. and you read past the roses, you learn so much more from it.

you learn how he’s been quiet because he was plotting a little surprise for you, trying not to be too obvious.

you see how he thought of you during the entire process, from an idea to carefully picking out the best flowers, making sure they’re fresh and pretty and will stay this way a while.

you can hear his timid little “thank you” to the florist as they exchange their bows and polite smiles.

you imagine the slightly awkward small talk with the taxi driver asking him about the occasion — the traffic and the parking area next to your building are awful, so you’re guessing he did take the taxi. and the drivers sure love to talk on the long drives, this one you had to learn the hard way.

gosh, chan looks so warm and… so soft, his lips making a familiar heartbreaking :] shape.

snapping out of your thoughts, you look into chris’s eyes and swallow down a salty lump in your throat.

“please don’t be alarmed, but i probably will cry a little,” you warn him before your voice gives out and take the roses, holding them close to your chest where the heart is bleeding.

“so pretty,” you stare down at the gentle velvety petals and sniff quietly.

chan looks worried for a moment but quickly pulls you into his embrace, stepping into the apartment and locking the door behind him.

“hey-y, i expected a smile, not your tears, baby. i didn’t upset you, did i?” to which you shake your head to reassure him.

“no, no, ‘course not! what do you mean? they’re so nice. i’m just… really happy? and i missed you. so much,” the last words come out like a weak mouse squeak as you close your eyes and let your emotions roll down your cheeks, staining your skin wet.

chan nods and takes your face into his palms, wiping away the tears and looking at you so lovingly you think you might actually break.

“i missed you too, baby. do you mind if i stay the night? i…- uh. i bought some face masks too, so we can just relax a little before bed and cuddle?”

you squeeze out a little “yeah” in response, headbutting his forehead and putting your arm around him, with another still holding the roses carefully.

“i love you,” you say slightly louder, making sure that he hears it.

maybe, gifts don’t have to be practical all the time. maybe, it’s okay to put sentimental value into simple, useless things sometimes. make them mean something.

“i love you too, baby,” chris hums still a little confused, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back and planting a chaste kiss on the bridge of your nose.

you reach for his plump soft lips and press yours against them. and even though your tastebuds can feel the salt, it’s the sweetest kiss you two have shared so far.

#skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #my fic #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan x female reader #chan x female reader #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan #stray kids fanfic #skz fic #my writing #my work #skz fanfic

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threepandas · 4 months ago

Text

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #yanblr #yandere otome isekai #yandere otome #yanderecore #platonic yandere #yandere parents #royal yandere #bad end the nunnery #bad end the nunnery au #ask related story #unaware reader #yanderes good at what they do

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gladiatorcunt · 2 months ago

Text

- ICEBREAKER / III.

i am the sun, you know you need me

cw: kinktober prompt (boot worship-ish), yandere behavior, confinement, mob boss!sunday, pet play without actually acting like a pet, canon typical controlling sunday, reader has a pussy, slight dehumanization, mean mean mean husband sunday but he loves you really, stockholm syndrome, pretend all the flowers & stuffed mentioned actually exist in hsr, sunday wins!au, one mention of halovian!reader

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

The invisible thread connecting you to Sunday has been spun into gold when you were not aware. You think you might’ve snuck in his cobblestone heart and done it in your sleep. It is an unspoken thing that festers within and eats you up from the inside until baby blue and white flower petals float down from your mouth, pleasantly aromatic bile becoming a fervent garden in your lungs. Overgrown but visually decadent and overwrought with confectionery and symbolism. Soul Glad spiked with an Aeon’s ichor.

Violets, baby’s breath, hydrangeas, forget-me-nots, sweet williams.

Not a single speck of dust is ever on him, and that includes his shoes. Dark brown leather and custom made, a gift he bought for himself that he was happy to say really came from you. A leader of a wealthy criminal organization could buy himself anything he wants, but it warms his icy heart to attach your name to it in his mind.

“You know I would never have you lick them if they were dirty, dove.” Sunday purrs, chin propped on his palm. “This isn’t to degrade you, you’d know what my vitriol would feel like. You’ve seen it directed towards less worthy patrons.”

He strokes a thumb down one of the wings on your head, fluffing the feathers and preening you as you “clean” his spotless shoe.

“Mmfh!” You slip your tongue in the grooves of his shoe, embracing the abrasions and coarse texture. “Yes, sir, I have.”

Interrogations, horrid screams, pleas for the gift of life and promises to pay back the money they owe, loud gunshots and his men dragging their bodies away. To be tossed over the edge of the dreamscape into the lilac depths. They’re always missing from the dream pools, a second death on the second day.

You’re slobbering now, your palms flat on your bare thighs as you work your mouth along the bottom of his left shoe.

Sunday chuckles and reaches out to wipe some of your drool away from the corner of your mouth, “Messy angel, you’re better than that.”

You’re not, the dampness seeping through your panties has you dead to rights. The wings on Sunday’s head flutter in amusement, nothing escapes his sight, he knows you down to the sparks of energy that make up your entire being. You’re the center of his eternal dream, his shining monument to what one would do for love.

“Teething on my shoes, you’re darling.” His even tone is basked in all the pleasure a man with the world at his feet (quite literally) could feel.

He nudges your jaw with the end of his right wing tip shoe, raising your head to make eye contact with you. You’re teary, but you still lap your tongue over the top of his left shoe, sucking it off like it’s a cock as you stay perfectly still. There’s always an unspoken test to see if you’ll give in to your baser urges and hump your slutty cunt against nothing.

But he does adore watching you squirm, his beloved pet rat in a golden maze of his own design.

You keep eye contact and lick a strip up the side of his shoe, tenderly kissing the tip before whining and moving your head after the one under your jaw.

“P-please, sir, let me finish my task before your next meeting. I don’t want you to be stressed.”

Sunday casts his gaze towards the oak doors, his wings tensing at the oncoming headache of his men surrounding him and awaiting his orders on how to further micromanage their territory. No matter, that’s the future, and he would much rather drift in the more pleasant present moment.

“The fish swim in the river however I tell them to. Take your time, my love.”

He can offer anything to you, whatever you want appearing before you in a flash, kept under lock and key at his extravagant manor. You never ask questions about what exactly he does or where he goes, but you don’t have to, he whispers it all to you freely. The truth holds no power over him when Sunday lives every day with the absence of lies.

You dot kisses on the leather toe of his right shoe, one your hands comes up to run your fingers in circles over his ankle. What makes this even better is that you ask for these sessions more than he orders them, an anxious little thing, being subservient helps quiet your racing thoughts and cabin fever.

Sunday feels generous, he taps his shoe against your cheek and takes it away, setting his foot firmly on the floor.

He beckons you with a come hither motion, “What would truly calm my nerves is to see my pet fall to pieces on my shoe. I’ll even let you get this pair messy with your spend, your scent would only make them my favorite.”

You hold in a happy squeal and eagerly straddle his foot, humping your panties down on the cool leather. The motion is slightly awkward, the friction brings you only a fraction of what you’re after. But the look in Sunday’s eyes as he watches you debase yourself for your husband, the thrill of doing such an act in a room that causes so much harm to everyone but you.

“That’s it, dove, dancing so beautifully for me.” He coos and keeps his foot still, content to be an audience member to the debauched show you’re putting on.

You whine, speeding up your movements and slicking up his shoe and the marbled floor beneath you. It’s not enough without him actively touching you, Sunday knows, so he shushes you and keeps patting your head rhythmically. Accompanying you on a fruitless journey towards an unsatisfying climax.

Sunday would never edge you, not when he could drown you and ply you with orgasm after orgasm. He would also never let you properly feel good without his touch. His lips quirk up as you whimper and come on the strip of skin where his ankle and foot disappears into his shoe. You keep pumping your hips, slipping and sliding with your come splattered on the leather and easing the glide.

If he takes them off after he sends you off to bed with a pat to your ass, and sniffs the soles, then that’s no one’s business but his. Another scene in the dream.

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hoesluvjude · 2 months ago

Text

Love Language || jude bellingham

Word count:1.3k

Genre:fluff

Summary:How jude shows his love to you

Masterlist

Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers gently tracing the worn edges of the envelope. It was Jude’s handwriting, as familiar to her as the sound of his voice. Neat but slightly rushed, like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough before they slipped away. She smiled softly, already knowing what she’d find inside. It was their thing—one of the many small but deeply meaningful ways Jude had of showing his love for her.

She carefully slid a finger under the envelope flap, pulling out the folded sheet of paper. The faint scent of his cologne wafted up, a comforting, familiar smell that made her feel like he was right beside her, even when he wasn’t. Unfolding the letter, she settled back against the pillows, her heart fluttering with that familiar warmth she always felt when reading his words.

"To my one and only Y/n," it began, like every letter before this one.

"I know I say this every time, but I can never seem to find the right words to tell you just how much you mean to me. It’s funny, right? I can talk all day to the press, or during interviews, or even when we’re just hanging out with friends. But when it comes to telling you how I feel, the words never seem enough. So I write. I write because it’s the only way I know how to pour out everything I’m thinking, everything I’m feeling, without stumbling over myself."

Y/n smiled, her heart swelling as she read the familiar sentiment. Jude had always been a romantic, but his love letters were something special. They were his way of showing her the side of him that no one else got to see—the vulnerable, thoughtful, and deeply caring man behind the public persona. He didn’t write letters because he had to. He wrote them because he wanted to,because it was his way of showing her just how much she meant to him.

"I think about you constantly, even when I’m miles away, even when I’m on the field. You’re always with me, Y/n. In the quiet moments before a game starts, or when I’m lying awake at night in some hotel room, wishing you were there beside me, your laugh, your smile—it’s all I need to feel at home. You’re my home, Y/n."

Her throat tightened as she read those words. He had a way of making her feel like the most important person in the world, even when he was away on trips for his football career. No matter how far apart they were, he always made sure she knew how much she was loved.

This letter, like all the others, was filled with little details—memories of quiet moments together, thoughts he’d had about their future, and reflections on the life they were building together. Jude never shied away from being honest in his letters, and it was something Y/n cherished more than anything. Every line was a glimpse into his heart, and she knew how precious that was.

She folded the letter gently, placing it with the others in the small wooden box Jude had given her. It was handmade, of course—just like most of the gifts he’d given her. Jude had a habit of pouring his heart into everything he gave her, whether it was something he bought or something he crafted himself. He wasn’t the type to just grab a gift at the last minute. No, Jude was thoughtful, meticulous even, when it came to showing his love.

Among the things she cherished most were the white tulips he always gave her, her favorite flower. It had started with a single bouquet early in their relationship, back when Jude had noticed her stop at a florist’s window, admiring the tulips on display. Ever since then, he made it a point to bring her white tulips for every special occasion—and sometimes just because. Each bouquet came with a small note tucked between the stems, written in his familiar scrawl, reminding her of how much he loved her. Whether it was a big celebration or just an ordinary Tuesday, those tulips had become a constant symbol of his affection.

There was the delicate silver bracelet he’d given her for their first anniversary. Each charm on it represented something special—a tiny football to remind her of how they met, a small book to symbolize her love of reading, and a miniature star to represent all the late-night conversations they’d had under the night sky. He had spent weeks looking for each charm, finding ones that perfectly matched the memories they shared.

She glanced around the room, her eyes falling on the framed sketch on the wall. Jude had drawn it himself—a simple but heartfelt drawing of the two of them sitting by a lake, her head resting on his shoulder, the trees behind them swaying in the breeze. He wasn’t an artist by any means, but he had poured his soul into that picture, and she had cried when he gave it to her. It was a moment frozen in time, captured by his love for her.

It wasn’t just the big, grand gestures, though. Jude had a way of making the ordinary moments extraordinary. Sometimes it was as simple as bringing home her favorite flowers after a long day or surprising her with a playlist he’d made of songs that reminded him of her. Once, he’d even learned how to bake, just to surprise her with her favorite cake on her birthday. The cake had turned out slightly burnt, but the effort behind it had made it taste like the best thing she’d ever eaten.

Y/n’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from Jude. She opened it, her smile widening as she read his words.

"Check under your pillow."

Curious, she glanced at the bed, lifting her pillow to find another envelope tucked beneath it. She hadn’t even noticed it before. She grinned, shaking her head as she opened it, her heart already racing in anticipation of what he’d written this time.

"Surprise," the letter began."I couldn’t wait until I got home to tell you how much I love you, so here’s another letter for your collection. I hope you don’t mind that I keep doing this—I just can’t seem to stop."

Y/n laughed softly, her heart swelling with affection as she continued to read.

"I thought about getting you something fancy this time, but then I remembered you telling me once that it’s not about the price of the gift, but the thought behind it. So here’s my thought: you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You make me better every single day, and I’ll never stop trying to show you just how much I appreciate you. You deserve the world, Y/n, and if I could, I’d give you that. But for now, all I have are these words, and my love, and maybe a few more of those weird wooden things I keep trying to make for you."

She laughed again, her eyes misting over.

"I love you more than I can ever say. So I’ll keep writing, I’ll keep giving, and I’ll keep finding new ways to show you that, because you deserve nothing less. Always yours, Jude."

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as she folded the letter, holding it close to her chest. She didn’t need expensive gifts or extravagant gestures. Jude’s love was in every word he wrote, every carefully chosen gift, every handmade trinket, and every thoughtful act that made her feel cherished.

Jude was her love story, written not in grand proclamations, but in the quiet, heartfelt letters he left her, in the gifts made with his hands and his heart, and in the simple, beautiful way he loved her every single day.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way

#jude bellingham #jb5 #jude #jude x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jb22 #Football #Fanfic #Football fanfic #j. bellingham

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year ago

Text

And I Wouldn’t Marry Me Either

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Synopsis: you release some songs about Tom after a disagreement ends in a breakup

Masterlist

“Marry me.”

“Right now? But I just got comfortable.” Tom mumbled into his pillow with a sleepy smile.

“I’m serious.” You whispered through a laugh and shook his shoulder. Tom’s eyes slowly opened and he could see the blurry outline of you lying next to him in your bed.

“What?”

“I’m just thinking.” You began. “We’ve been together five years.”

“I’m aware.” Tom laughed and snuggled back into his pillow.

“So we should do it. We should get married.” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him.

“We are married. Everyone knows you’re my girl.” Tom said without opening his eyes and pulled you into his arms. He tried to go back to sleep but you still wanted to talk.

“I know.” You laughed. “But I want to make it official.”

“What, in Gods eyes and all that? I didn’t think you cared about that.” He laughed dismissively and rolled over. You sat up fully in the bed and looked down at him.

“It’s not about that. I want the flowers and the dress and the rings. Don’t you want that?” You asked and shook him a little to clue him in that you were trying to have a serious conversation. You watched Tom shrug and roll onto his back to look up at you.

“I don’t know. I always found weddings kinda dumb.”

“What? What do you mean dumb?” You forced a laugh and tried to hide the disappointment in your tone.

“I mean, like, they’re not even legally binding. It’s this whole big celebration that people spend their life savings on just to get drunk and slid rings on each other fingers. You still have to go to the courthouse to get married and even that’s just a piece of paper.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you felt that way.” You laughed shortly and picked at your nail polish to look busy.

“I didn’t realize you felt a different way.” He said and rolled back onto his stomach. Tom closed his eyes to go back to sleep and you felt your heart sink in your chest. You got out of the bed and opened the curtains a little to distract yourself with the view. You touched the silky white curtains and smiled to yourself as you thought of all the pictures of white dresses you had saved on your Pinterest throughout the years.

“I’ve always dreamed of my wedding.” You said over your shoulder. “I think every little girl does at some point. Every rom com I grew up on ends with the perfect fairy tale wedding. I always wanted that. I wanted my happy ending.”

“But those are just movies. I bet half those couples wouldn’t last in real life.”

“But it’s sweet that they plan that special day together and then get to celebrate their love in front of all their family and friends.”

“Yeah, all that planning just so they can get divorced before the first year is up.” Tom snorted. “I think the whole idea of weddings are stupid. I mean, you spend all that time and money planning for a one day event that people will just attend for the free booze. Plus, women starve themselves for months and spend thousands of dollars on a dress they’ll wear once? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Tom.” You laughed shortly and folded your arms to glare at him. Tom sensed your tone and sat up in bed to pay better attention.

“I just think it’s all so ancient.” He shrugged. “I’m surprised you don’t agree. Weddings cannot exist without all the bullshit sexist traditions. I mean, the white dress to symbolize the brides supposed purity, the father of the bride literally “giving her away” to another man after being asked permission to get engaged in the first place, and then to top it off with her taking his last name because she’s now his property or something. It’s all so trivial and perverse.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. Those traditions may be rooted in old fashioned thinking but I think it’s sweet to ask for my fathers permission. And yeah, I do want my dad holding my hand and walking me down the aisle. He’s not giving me away to be another man’s property, he’s standing by my side as I enter a new chapter of my life. Which is why I want my mama right there on my other side. Plus, lots of people hyphenate their last names nowadays. It doesn’t have to be this monstrous sexism fest you’re making it out to be.” You rolled your eyes and walked into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Tom frowned when you shut the door. You usually left it open a crack when you did your morning skincare routine, but today, you were shutting him out. Tom got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to see you. You didn’t look up at him as you washed your face.

“Come on. Are you seriously mad because I dissed your rom coms?” Tom said as he put his hands on your hips and kissed your shoulder.

“I’m not mad about that.” You mumbled and brushed him off.

“Then what are you mad about, sour patch?” He teased and kissed your shoulder again.

“I’m mad because I’ve been getting my nails done weekly leading up to our five year anniversary just in case you proposed and you just told me that’s never even crossed your mind!” You exclaimed as hot tears of embarrassment brimmed your eyes. You stormed out of the bathroom and when Tom processed what you had said, he followed after you.

“I don’t believe in marriage, okay? I think it’s unnecessary. Why can’t we just live like this forever? What’s the difference?”

“The difference is pretty big. But I guess you don’t see it like that.” You shrugged and kept walking away from him.

“Can you honestly tell me what would be different between us if we signed a stupid piece of paper at the courthouse or didn’t?” Tom said as he put his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place for a second.

“The difference is I’d be your wife and not just the pathetic girlfriend who stayed even though you didn’t lock it down.” You raised your voice at him and pushed his hands off of you.

“So you only want to get married because you care what people think? How romantic.” Tom rolled his eyes at you.

“That’s not the only reason. I want to get married because it’s important to me. It’s a public commitment where we promise to love and protect each other forever. I want that.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I don’t need a ceremony to do that. I can promise you that right here.” Tom calmed down and took your hands.

“But that’s not special.” You sighed and withdrew your hands.

“If you don’t find that special then maybe you don’t love me as much as you think you do.” Tom said, immediately regretting it.

“What?” You whispered and looked into his eyes to see if he was serious.

“Look, darling, I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I just don’t see the point in marriage. I don’t need to prove I love you with a ring and wedding. I chose to love you every day. That’s enough for me.”

“What if it’s not enough for me?” You genuinely asked him as you wondered it for yourself.

“Then maybe you need to stop being so shallow and materialistic and ask yourself if you’re with me because you love me or because you want to play out some childhood fantasy that you saw in a stupid movie.” He shouted.

You both instantly got quiet. You were quiet for a very long time.

“I didn’t even mean that.”

“I don’t even care.” Your voice cracked as you grabbed your purse and slammed the front door behind you when you left.

“Is this one okay?” Harrison asked, pulling Tom out of his daydream. He replayed that fight over in his head about a dozen times a day. If his mind wasn’t occupied by something at all times, he’d perform an autopsy on that last conversation with you to try and understand what he should’ve done differently.

“What?” Tom asked without looking at his friend. He was too busy staring at the seat you always used to sit in at the kitchen counter.

“Can I use this one?” Harrison repeated and held up a muted purple mug as the tea kettle went off in the background. Tom tore his eyes away from your chair and when he saw the mug, all he could picture was your lipstick stain that used to stain it.

“That’s Y/n’s mug.” Tom said, descending a chill over the room. Harry and Sam’s attention was caught and they looked at Tom to see where this conversation was going.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll put it back.” Harry said and quickly went to put it back in the cabinet.

“It’s fine. She’s not using it.” Tom shrugged. Everyone looked at each other as the awkwardness became palpable.

“How’s she’s doing?” Sam asked and sipped his tea to seem less interested than he really was.

“She’s good. Shes been recording some stuff at her New York studio. New music and whatnot.” Tom replied. He didn’t know this because you told him. He knew this because he’d been stalking your fanpages for every possible sighting of you.

“Have you guys talked lately?” Harry asked.

“Not really. Not since she left.” Tom admitted without looking up at his friends.

“You guys didn’t break up, did you?” Harrison asked, worsening the icy tension. Tom froze at the question for a minute and then shrugged. He didn’t really know what the answer was. In the weeks you’d been gone, you’d make small talk sometimes about work and the weather, but it never went beyond that. It was more to be polite. You kept in touch enough to know what the other was up to on a weekly basis, but you both knew you were dragging out something that had died. You wanted Tom to just say it was over already instead of pretending everything was normal, but he was never going to do that.

“I don’t know. We left things kinda up in the air.” Tom replied. The boys exchanged glances and Harrison nodded to let them know he was gonna take charge.

“Up in the air?” He questioned.

“Yep. Up in the air. Ambiguous. Vague. Open to interpretation. Call it what you want.” Tom shrugged again like it didn’t matter, but it did.

“Well what was the last thing you said to each other?” Harry wondered.

“She said she needed some space and was going to New York. And I said okay.” Tom recalled.

“What about before that?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much in the days leading up to her leaving.” Tom replied and took a long sip of his tea.

“She didn’t speak to you?” Sam asked.

“She did.” Tom nodded. “Sometimes.”

“You didn’t speak to her?” Harrison asked, already knowing the answer.

“I didn’t have anything to say.” Tom shrugged. Nobody spoke a word, but all the boys were thinking the same thing. They knew how bad this was, and that it signaled the end of your relationship.

“What?” Tom asked when he noticed the shift in vibe.

“I’m just surprised.” Harrison shrugged. “You guys were never like this. I can’t even remember your last fight.”

“We didn’t fight. You can’t fight when you don’t speak.” Tom said with a sarcastic smile.

“You should call her.” Harry suggested. “It’s gonna be at least a week since she’s been there, right?”

“Four weeks.” Tom corrected without meeting anyone’s else.

“Mate, you gotta call her.” Harry said quietly and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“I can’t.” Tom shook his head.

“Why not?”

“She can’t break up with me if I don’t talk to her. As long as we don’t have that conversation, we’ll still be together.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Buddy.” Harrison said apologetically. Tom sucked in a sharp breath and looked at his friend with tears brimming his bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t know what else to do.” He said with a crack in his voice.

“Oh shit.” Sam said suddenly, getting everyone’s attention.

“What?” Tom asked.

“She’s dropping a song tonight. She just announced it.” Sam said and showed Tom your Twitter. Tom took Sam’s phone to read your announcement better. Sure enough, you had posted a picture of you dramatically lying across a piano bench with your left hand covering half of your face. You had a ring on every finger except for your ring finger, a detail that wasn’t lost on Tom. He handed Sam’s phone back and look at the floor.

“You didn’t know about this?” Sam asked, and Tom shook his head. He’d gone from being the first person you played every song for to finding out on Twitter that you had a song coming out.

“What’s it called?” Harrison wondered. Sam looked down at his phone to read the title and gulped.

“Who cares?” Sam forced a laugh and put his phone away.

“What’s it called?” Tom asked again.

“You Don’t Know Me Anymore.” Sam mumbled. Tom shut his eyes and hung his head in shame. He hadn’t even heard the song yet but knew it was going to be bad news.

“When does that come out?” He asked Sam.

“Midnight. Tonight.”

Tom’s friends stayed with him all day until midnight rolled around. At 11:58, Tom placed his laptop on the kitchen table and opened YouTube. He knew you always released lyric videos when you dropped a new song and he needed to reach every single world you said. When midnight came, he refreshed his screen and clicked on your video. The background image was a picture of you looking in a mirror with messy hair. You had digitally added sparkly, purple tears to run down the still image of your face. You played a couple notes on the piano before the lyrics appeared beside your face in your handwriting.

“I wish you’d just put me out of my misery

You already know I’m at your mercy

I don’t know why you’re dragging this out

You have all the power, if that’s what this is about

I’m not gonna be the one who walks away

So I need you to say what you want to say

I already know it’s over so just let it end

Please don’t give me the pity of asking to stay friends.”

“I don’t think we should be listening to this.” Sam said as he paused the video.

“Play it.” Tom demanded. Sam sighed and pressed play while the other exchanged looks.

“I’ve been feeling you leaving

I hate this part more than the ending

The moments leading up when I know your heart has changed

I don’t know why we keep pretending

If it’s done just say it’s done

Don’t just change your mind and not tell me

I already know so just let me go

Don’t just watch as I sit and bleed.”

“I don’t think-“ Sam began as he paused it again.

“Stop pausing it.” Tom cut him off. “Play it. I need to hear it.”

Sam pressed play again and Tom pulled the laptop over to himself so he could control it.

“Cause I cut my hand on that first crack in the glass

I feel the icy air between us when you pass me

So I took your chain off from around my neck

I’ll think of something else your initial can stand for

You don’t deserve to see me wearing it anyway

You don’t know me anymore.”

Tom didn’t realize he had started to cry until his tears his his keyboard. He couldn’t see the video anymore from his blurry his eyes had gotten. He wiped his face and leaned on his hands to give the song better attention.

“You know I would die for you in secret

Like that song I showed you in my car

I don’t think you even listened to it

You didn’t draw stars around my scars

You drew your arrow and let it fly

Right into my heart and let me die

Actually, I wish that was the curtesy you provided

Instead, you let this love become one sided

And now we’re shattered like a glass that was dropped

You broke my heart until the day that it stopped

You never got down on knee

Even when I crumbled onto both of mine

I wonder if you ever really wanted me

How did you think we were fine?

And at what part did you realize you liked the idea of me?

But who I actually am isn’t someone you wanted

I miss who I was before we met

Now I can’t go back, I’m haunted

And you were right not to marry me

If I could walk away from me too, I would

You were right to leave when you did

I know I would too if I could

But I’m stuck here with myself

Forever scratching and clawing at your door

Keep it all, even my memories

You’re lucky you don’t know me anymore.”

Everyone sat in silence once the song ended. Tom wiped his eyes again but tears just kept falling down his face.

“That probably wasn’t even about you.” Harrison said after a long beat of silence. Tom gave him a look before turning to his brothers.

“What do you think?” He asked Harry.

“It sounds like she’s hurting too.” Harry shrugged. “I think you’re both waiting for the other to say you’re broken up.”

“Well I’m not saying it.” Tom stated. “She has to.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Sam asked kindly.

“Then we don’t break up.”

“Again, I’m not really sure that’s how it works.”

“Well it’s what I’m going with. Because I can’t break up with her.” Tom sniffled and shut the laptop.

“But you can’t go on like this either.” Sam pointed out.

“She’ll come home when she’s ready.” Tom said, but no one in the room believed him.

And didn’t come home for a while.

After another week of silence, Tom flew to New York to see you. He got to your apartment and knocked on your door without any particular plan in mind. You opened it with a smile but when you saw who it was, you tensed up.

“Hi.” He said with a sad smile.

“If you came to to propose to me as some kind of grand gesture-“

“Please, let me talk.” He cut you off. You sighed and nodded as you leaned against your doorway.

“We have different opinions. But I don’t love or respect anyone more than you. So I am willing to hear your side, which is not something I did last time we spoke about this. I was just listening for what I could rebuttal against. I wasn’t actually listening to understand your thoughts and feelings. But I’m ready now.” He said. You nodded again and seemed to drop the wall that you had put up.

“It matters to me that we get married.” You told him. “I know you think it’s pointless and doesn’t change anything, but it changes things for me. If you picked out a ring, asked my parents permission, and got down on one knee, that would all make me feel special and loved. Those things matter to me in a relationship.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“But now you do know so if you propose, I know you’re just gonna do it to appease me. I’ll always know that you think it’s stupid when I look at the ring.”

“I admit that it found it a little dumb in the past. But it matters to you. And nothing that matters to you can be stupid.”

“I can’t get married to you knowing you don’t really want it. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” You said and went to close the door.

“But I can’t lose you. My thoughts on marriage literally do not matter to me in the slightest. If it’s important to you and if it is what it takes to make you feel special and loved, then I want it too.” Tom pleaded as he pushed your door back open.

“But you don’t want it. You just don’t want to break up.”

“I can put on a tux for a night and suffer through if it means that much to you.” He said with a slight laugh to lighten the mood. Your face changed and he had somehow made the situation worse.

“Suffer?” You asked quietly with a told of your head.

“I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. But darling, I’m saying we can get married. I’ll do whatever it is you want. Why do you still look so upset?”

“Because you don’t get it.” You shook your head. “And I’m afraid you never will.”

“What don’t I get? I don’t understand. I’m telling you I’ll give you what you want.”

“But you don’t want it too. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s the principle, Tom. Remember how disappointed I was that one time when I said I wanted ice cream so we went to the shop but you didn’t get anything? I didn’t mean I wanted ice cream. I meant I wanted us to get ice cream together so we could eat it and spend time together. This is like that but times a million. You can’t compromise on marriage. You either believe in it or you don’t. So even if we did get married, it wouldn’t mean to you what it means to me. I would always think back to that conversation we had and remember how you really feel about marriage. I keep replaying all the things you said that day in my head. We both know how you feel about marriage and we both know it’s not something you want.”

“So that one conversation ruined it for you? Completely?” He asked.

“Yes, it did.” You answered truthfully. You stared at each other for a minute as both your eyes welled with tears. You both knew you’d reached a stalemate and there was nothing more to be done.

“So what do we do now?” Tom asked without looking at you.

“I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” You told him, making him perk up.

“So do I.” He smiled as tears rolled down his face.

“But what if that’s not enough?” You asked him. Tom froze and felt the situation escaping from him fast.

“We’ve been together almost 5 years, darling. That’s five birthdays, Christmas’s, anniversaries. You make up so much of my life. We’re exactly right for each other. It’s supposed to be you and me in the end. I can’t do this with anyone else.”

“And I can’t do this with you.” You laughed sadly and gestured to him. Tom’s heart dropped in his chest when it became apparent that this was more than just a fight.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I think I am.” You nodded. Neither of you could believe the words that were coming out of your mouth but it was too late to take them back.

“Does marriage really mean that much to you that you’d rather break up instead of just living a long, happy life together?” Tom asked you.

“I guess it does.” You realized. He stood there in shock as you put a hand on his shoulder and brought him closer to kiss his cheek.

“Goodbye, Tom.” You smiled sadly at him and shut your door.

Another month went by and you did not come home. You busied yourself with your music and dove into your next album, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about him on midnights when you were left alone with your thoughts. Tom thought about you a lot more often, like every time he saw your face on his TV. He tuned in one night to watch you debut your latest music video of your newest song. His eyes were glued to the TV as the video opened with your back to some brown eyed actor.

“You say “I don’t understand” and “I say I know you don’t.” We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won’t.” You sang with your eyes glued to the floor. The setting changed and you were walking through an apartment that Tom recognized.

“She filmed this on Cornelia Street?” Tom whispered to himself and sat back on his couch.

“Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light.” A smiling version of you sang as she walked though the apartment holding the hand of the actor playing Tom. The setting changed again and you were still in the room, but the lights were off and you were sitting alone in the floor.

“Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time.” You sang while not looking in the camera. The rest of the video followed in suit. You flashed between happy, golden hued memories with the actor to grey toned solo shots of you sitting alone at your piano or on the floor. The difference in the moods made Tom reminisce on the old times and he wondered how long it has been since he had made you smile the way you were doing in the video.

“Stop, you’re losing me. Stop, stop, stop. You’re losing me.” You sang while looking directly into the camera as a purple heart monitor line ran through the background behind you and eventually flatlined. Tom felt like you were staring right into his soul and realized this was the closest he’d gotten to making eye contact with you in a while. He watched the sad, grey version of yourself split from the happy version and suddenly, there were two of you on the screen while the actor playing Tom ignored them both.

“How long can we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life?” The both of you sang while Tom’s counterpart read the newspaper and didn’t look at either. He thought of the days leading up to you leaving for New York where he’d be doing exactly that, reading the newspaper to pretend to look busy when he felt you glaring at him. He wiped his face and watched as the scene changed to the three of you at a party. The sad version of you was clinging to Tom’s counterpart defensively while the other version of you yelled at him with a drink in your hand.

“Fighting in only your army. Front lines, don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing as this party.” You yelled and drunkenly stumbled around while the rest of the party watched.

“You’re losing me.” The grey version whispered into Tom’s ear. He assumed that version represented the part of you that missed him while the other version represented the you that knew it was over. The scene changed again and this time, you were back in the Cornelia Street apartment with an open ring box in the center of the table. There was no ring inside, just a burning flame.

“And I wouldn’t marry me either. A pathological people pleaser.Who only wanted you to see her.” You said into the camera while Tom’s character threw things into a bag behind you and went to leave.

“And I’m fading thinking do something babe! Say something! Lose something, babe. Risk something. You’re losing me! Chose something, babe. I got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.” The grey version of you desperately said to Tom’s counterpart as she pulled on his arm to beg him to stay. It was like he couldn’t see her at all and just kept walking towards the door. The golden version of yourself opened the door and pointed for him to get out while the other version of you jumped in front of him and dropped to her knees to get him to stay. Tom’s character walked right through her and she faded to dust, leaving just the one version of yourself to watch him go. The music stopped and you ended up running after him, but he was already gone. You turned and ran down Cornelia Street but didn’t go back into your apartment. You just kept running down the street and turned the block so that the camera couldn’t see you anymore. The camera panned out to show the Cornelia Street sign and a violin version of your song by the same name played in the background as the street sign turned grey and faded into dust. The screen turned black and Tom was left alone in the silence.

After another month, he found himself outside your door again. He knocked on it and felt his heart pound until you opened it up.

“Tom? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you. I came to fix this.” He said simply.

“Tom, I don’t know that we can fix this.” You said apologetically. It felt amazing to see him, but it didn’t change the fact that you ultimately wanted different things in life.

“You were right. You can’t compromise on marriage. And you either believe in it or you don’t.” He began before getting down on one knee.

“Tom?” You asked skeptically as your eyes went wide. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and opened it up for you.

“It’s your moms ring. Your dad gave it to her for the third Valentine’s Day they celebrated together in college. She doesn’t wear it anymore because it’s one size too small, so she gave it to me when I asked them for permission to marry you.”

“You asked them?” You smiled in surprise that he had done one of the things you said mattered to you.

“I did. It was a little awkward to find out your mother already knew all about our previous conversations about marriage so you can probably guess how confused I was.” He said with an embarrassed laugh.

“What did my dad say?”

“He said as long as I make you happy, he’s proud to have me join the family.”

“See? No one’s giving me away to anyone. We’re just creating a bigger family for the two of us.”

“I see that now. I see a lot of the points you made. And what your dad said got me thinking.”

“About?”

“All I want is to make you happy. Which is different from agreeing to things I don’t want to do to appease you. I do want to watch you walk down the aisle in a dress that’s been in your Pinterest board since you were 13. I do want to plan the seating arrangement and introduce my weird friends from college to your weird friends from college. I want to plan the entire thing because that’s something we can do together, and those are my favorite things to do.”

“What about the ceremony? And the marriage license? You don’t want those things.”

“I didn’t at first.” He admitted. “But after actually thinking about it and reevaluating the opinion I formed before I ever even had a serious relationship, I realized I feel differently. You make me feel differently. I would proudly sign my name next to yours on a marriage license. Because I happen to think our names look pretty good together. And as for the ceremony, I know we can’t compromise, but we can collaborate. It doesn’t have to be a huge blowout party. It can be the best elements of the both of us. And we can plan it together.”

“That all sounds very lovely, but it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t believe in marriage just a few months ago. Am I really supposed to believe you’ve truly changed your mind? What if this is just some grand gesture to win me back that you end up regretting?” You asked him.

“I will never end up regretting promising my love for you in front of our family and friends. I’ll never regret hyphenating our names so that everyone knows I’m a part of a duo. I’ll never regret choosing to legally attach myself to my vets friend and spend the rest of my life with her. But I can tell you with the utmost assurance that I would regret letting you walk away and become a name I wince at for the rest of my life.”

“You felt differently not too long ago.” You quietly reminded him. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you couldn’t fully trust it.

“I changed my mind. I realized somethings are more important than other things. And that you’re more important than anything.”

Your skeptical expression turned into a coy smile as you slid your hand into the one that wasn’t holding the open ring box.

“You never actually said the words.” You told him, making Tom break into a relieved smile.

“Darling, would you make me the happiest man-“

“Eh. Try again. Too cliche.” You cut him off. Tom smiled and shook his head, knowing you weren’t gonna make it easy.

“My love, I don’t want to spend another minute as just your boyfriend.” He tried again.

“Lame. Thumbs down.” You shook your head and pointed your thumb down.

“Would you do me the honor-“

“Yawn.” You interrupted.

“Will you just marry me, you annoying brat?” Tom groaned.

“Tom! I thought you’d never ask!” You gushed over dramatically and put your hand over your heart.

“Is that a yes?” Tom asked as he stood up.

“I have to think about it. I don’t know if marriage is for me.” You shrugged as he slid the ring onto your finger. You looked down at the ring and remembered the time you tried it on as a little girl and how it didn’t fit your finger until now.

“Yes. I will marry you.” You smiled as you looked back up at Tom. Tom broke into a grin and scooped you up to spin you around.

“Sorry I wrote all those emo songs about you.” You said into his ear, making him laugh.

“It’s okay. It’s what you do.” He couldn’t stop smiling as he set you down. He then pulled you in for a long kiss to make up for all the time you were apart. When you pulled away, he pulled your face back towards him with his hands to kiss your left cheek.

“I see you.” He said, then kissed you right cheek.

“I choose you.” He continued, then kissed your forehead.

“I love you.” He said, the kissed your nose before looking into your eyes.

“And I know you.” He told you. You smiled softly and nodded your head.

“You do?” You asked him. “You really know me?”

“I do.”

Tag List 🏷️

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@andreasworlsboring101 @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention

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@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill

@every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @fiantomartell

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@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

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amphitriteswife · 3 months ago

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💛🧡Rejection🧡💛

Tagging: @praisethesuuun @mizz-sea-nymph @nicasdreamer @swallowtail-lotus

I know i made it male reader but feel free to see your oc sunny!😈

Apollo x male! Reader.

Apollo, god of the Sun, one of the 12 olympians and twin brother of the moon goddess herself, Artemis. That’s what he was most known for. Yet many forgot he was so much more than that. For example being the god of medicine, music, boys, knowledge and so much more. He was well loved among the ancient greeks. Often seen as the male beauty. In many of his famous tales Apollo falls in love with a man or woman, yet it always ends badly for them, causing Apollo to have them turned into flowers. Yet despite all the recognition, the glorious tales of him defeating the monster Python… he wasn’t always a saint.

Clutching your bow in one hand, you looked at the boar you just hunted. The boar was usually a symbol or offer to the lady Artemis herself. Once again, failing to have an offer for the god you worship. It was tiring and disappointing. Now it was a waste if you didn’t do anything with the now dead boar. Until the idea hit you that you might offer it to Artemis without entering her temple as only women or her priestesses are allowed to enter in. Walking in the direction of the temple you met one of the priestesses, giving her the boar and turning on your heel to go back to train with your bow, yet you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being followed. It was an uneasy feeling in your gut that told you to keep watching who was behind you. Ignoring the feeling but not the suspicion, you clutched your bow and narrowed your eyes. The sudden sound of leaves rattling made you alert as you quickly raised your bow, pulling out an arrow and aiming at the source of the sound, your hand pulling on the string before firing the arrow without missing a beat.

Steading your breath, you listing closely, hearing the sound of your arrow hitting something followed by a rather loud and dramatic ‘OW’ which made you a bit stunned before you hesitantly walked into the direction of where you shot your arrow. Moving some of the leaves and bushes you could finally see…a naked man in the lake? The sight was honestly a little baffling since most of the warriors were already back at the training camp, and not to mention the light shade of the pink hair which was a unusual color for human hair, walking closer you could see the little red liquid in the pond water, slowly getting thinner the more it stayed in the water. Following the trail of blood you could recognize seeing your own arrow in the right shoulder of the man. The man seemed confused as to why he suddenly got hit by an arrow. Your arrow. Guilt filled your being as you walked closer to the man, wanting to help him stop the bleeding yet when you were about to call him out he pulled out the arrow himself. His hand hovered over the cut before a yellow light surrounded the area where he ws hurt, the wound slowly closing under the dim light.

Suddenly, the man turned behind him. Staring at you wide eyed. He had hazel pupils, something that was rare, yet not unusual. You too stared back at him shocked. Who the hell was this man? Was it a magician? A witch? Should you tell someone? This can’t be real. This cannot be happening. ‘You look like you saw a ghost…well I’m even better.’ The man spoke to you, his hazel eyes focused on you. He had sharp features and a cocky arrogant smirk playing on his thin yet pink lips. He had a nice, lean yet muscular body and his voice was smooth and almost velvety…it made your head a little light and dizzy. ‘Are you feeling alright mortal? Can’t have you passing out on me?’ He told you in a hearty chuckling tone. He was suspicious. He must’ve done something to you. Your vision was a little clouded and your head felt heavy. ‘What have you done to me?’ You asked him placing one hand on your head. Massaging it a little. Your eyes focused on the suspicious man. The man Hmph-ed and scoffed. Closing his eyes, seemingly hurt and offended that he was accused of something like that.

‘I didn’t do anything, you idiot. Who do you take me for? That’s no way to talk your god!’ he said to you, crossing his arms and keeping his head high. How arrogant! And why is he claiming to be a god? That’s disrespectful! Claiming to be a god is highly disrespectful and insulting to your religion. ‘You can’t just claim you’re a god mister. It’s disrespectful.’ You told him carefully which made him scoff at you. ‘I’m no pretender! Seriously who do you take me for! It’s me! Apollo! Your lord! Your sweet, charming, loving, amazing sun god!’ Apollo told you proud fully, his strawberry pink like hair glistening in the waters. But he couldn’t help but chuckle when he looked at your flabbergasted face. His arms reached out to your body and he pulled you in the water with him. His hands on your broad shoulders while he looked you deep into your eyes, his face held a confident smirk and his hands soon began to make its way to your face, cupping it slightly. ‘Keep your god company, won’t you?’ Apollo asked you softly whispering in your ear. The sudden action once again made your head spin.

There was no denying that Apollo was attractive and charming….and seductive. But it was still highly Inappropriate to have something with the god you worship. Would you be allowed to go into the temple again? What if you end up like most of his lovers who have met unfortunate fates? Dying isn’t something you wanted…even if being with your god seemed like a dream. Would it really be a good choice to accept? Is that really what you want? So many questions yet so little answers. It made you dizzy and uncomfortable which cause you to take a fews steps back which made the god stunned. ‘I don’t know if that’s what i want...’ You told him slowly and carefully. You didn’t want to make quick and reckless decisions.. there was too much at stake. ‘I decline. I’m sorry my lord’ You told him carefully but firmly. Even if you loved your god, it was still platonic and admiration. Not romantic love like he hoped.

To not make the situation worse you walked out of the waters, apologized for the arrow and took your leave. Leaving Apollo, even if it was still hard to process in your state of disbelief that it was really him, alone in the waters who was confused himself. Apollo was never rejected by anyone, causing him to have a stir of mixed emotions. He was hurt that you didn’t feel for him. Yet also angry you had the audacity to reject him. Yet also admiration that you wanted to put yourself first. He himself felt strange, but he was a powerful and confidant being. And rejected won’t a final answer. After all. In Apollo’s myths he never took no for an answer either…

🌻Thank you for reading! 🌻

#apollo #apollo x reader #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv #ror #ror apollo #snv apollo #ror apollo x reader #snv apollo x reader #male reader #record of ragnarok apollo #apollo snv #mxm fanfiction #mxm #male x male #apollon #gay #bi apollo

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halaxia · 1 year ago

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— the language of flowers 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 the jjk boys

❥ featuring | itadori yuji, fushiguro megumi, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuta, gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, kamo choso, and mahito ❥ cw | mostly fluff, unrequited love in megumi’s (sorry), brief mentions of violence in mahito’s ❥ note | reposted from my old blog, rewrote some stuff :) also not proofread lol don't come for me for typos/stuff that doesn’t make sense i'll edit it in the morning!!! also some of these are ooc i know i don’t wanna talk about it :,(

❀ ITADORI YUJI : DAISY — INNOCENCE, LOYAL, LOVE, AND PURITY.

Yuji's love was akin to that of a day in mid-spring when sweet birdsong filled the air and the smell of flowers wafted through the atmosphere as the trees rustled with a gentle breeze passing by. Yuji's love brought you peace, contentment; it was kind, gentle, and welcoming, and it felt like home. Anything you could ever want, ever need, Yuji tried to provide you with it to the best of his ability. Meeting his affectionate gaze never failed to bring a smile to your lips and warm your cheeks, much like the sun would on a beautiful day.

Your love was pure—Yuji didn't care for your flaws or imperfections, nor did you for his. All that mattered was that, after a long, tiring day of exorcising curses or enduring gruelling training from your seniors or sensei, you could find solace in the arms of each other.

— After your first date, Yuji gifted you a crisp, fresh, white daisy, and would continue to do so whenever he noticed the ones he'd given you prior begin to wilt. Now, though, he is sure to get you one each day before seeing you; they're becoming a small bouquet of clean, white flowers on your dresser in a crystal vase next to a framed photo of the two of you.

❀ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI : GARDENIA — SYMBOL OF SECRET LOVE.

Megumi loved you, and you loved him, too, but not in the way he so craved.

Passing smiles and lingering embraces were never enough to quell his ever-growing love for you. Megumi wanted nothing more than to see the look in your eyes when he confessed his feelings to you, to let you hold his aching heart in your hands and watch you handle it with care, to hear you whisper the four words he'd been dreaming of hearing leave your lips; "I love you too."

How he longed to kiss you, feel the way your lips slotted perfectly against his and taste the fruit-flavoured chapstick he always saw you applying. He wanted to hold your hand when you were scared, tuck your hair behind your ear and tell you that he would always be there for you, that everything would be okay as long as he was by your side.

It hurt him, not being able to show you just how much he loved you. He swore to himself that one day he would be honest with you, let his mind step aside and let his heart take over. That day, however, had yet to come.

— Megumi's eyes always fall on the gardenias arranged neatly by the exit as he leaves the store with you by his side. Next time, he thinks. I'll give them one next time. Deep down, he knows that next time will never come.

❀ INUMAKI TOGE : WHITE ROSE — SECRECY, SILENCE, INNOCENCE, AND CHARM.

What you adored most about the love you and Inumaki shared was the innocence of it all; warm, comforting hugs after tiring missions, stolen kisses in empty corridors, giggly nights spent together in each other's rooms after everybody else had retreated to their rooms to sleep.

Nobody else knew about what you and Inumaki shared, but the two of you preferred it that way. The love you two had was secret, hidden away from all but the chirping crickets and hooting owls that surrounded you on those warm summer nights spent together on the roof of Jujutsu High.

Your love was pure, innocent, perfect, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

— Inumaki never fails to greet you with a smile, peppering your face with kisses just as the door shuts behind him. He places his fingertips on your eyelids, a silent instruction to close them, before sliding the stem of a white rose behind your ear. You leave it there for the rest of the night, and before Inumaki is about to return to his room, just as the sun kisses the horizon, he gingerly removes it from where it had found a home behind your ear and places it on your nightstand, beside it, a note written in his distinct scrawl: "sleep well, my flower." He leaves silently, though not before placing a gentle kiss on your temple.

❀ OKKOTSU YUTA : LILY OF THE VALLEY — RETURNING OF HAPPINESS.

Yuta felt himself begin to regain his humanity after becoming acquainted with you. He could finally begin to appreciate life for what it was—he would smile as the warm summer sun kissed his cheeks, close his eyes and relish in the natural sounds of nature, a breeze sweeping delicately through the trees, the sounds of birds singing happily to one another. He felt present, he felt alive, and for that, he had you to thank.

You were the one who showed him what a joyous, content life could look like, and it was because of you he, for the first time since his childhood, felt happy. Every time he felt your lips against his, heard your harmonious laugh and saw your smile that never failed to warm his heart, he was reminded of his reason to try every day—you.

— Yuta is sweating bullets the first time he asks you out on a real date (Panda, Inumaki, and Maki all insisted that the two of you spending time together during a class outing barely counted as a date). When he knocks on the door of your room and sees the grin on your face the moment you lay your eyes upon the bouquet of lily of the valley he held in his shaking hands, he could feel his anxieties almost immediately melt away. Since then, he's made it a tradition to greet you with those same flowers before each date—he can never get tired of seeing you smile.

❀ GOJO SATORU : DELPHINIUM — OPEN HEART AND ARDENT ATTACHMENT.

Satoru didn't let just anyone in—despite his bubbly exterior and friendly (although irritating to some) exterior, he was rather particular about who he let take a stroll through his aching heart. At the beginning of your relationship, he, of course, welcomed you with open arms and loved you wholeheartedly; he made you feel like you were the only person in the whole world who mattered to him. You, however, could feel the distance at which he kept you—he was open, but only enough so that you wouldn't question whether or not he trusted you with his secrets.

It wasn't until further into your relationship that he finally began to feel as though he could further drop his guard around you and shed his (sometimes) forced sincerity. It started slow at first, with Satoru telling you short stories of his youth and his friends from his past. He would tell you just enough that you were practically dying to know more, but you never pushed, not once.

One night, however, when a spring thunderstorm left the roads far too dangerous for you to drive home, you spent the night at his, and just like the ferocity of the downpour which transpired outside, all of Satoru's feelings poured out; his fear of becoming attached to you just as he once was with Suguru, how he was afraid of loving you with his whole heart lest he had to hurt you, leave you in the same way he did his best friend. It was the first time you'd seen him cry.

Although he expected you to shy away, leave him after seeing his vulnerability and realize that The Strongest was nothing more than a weakling who couldn't so much as get over the death of his best friend, that he was only a child who'd been forced to grow up far too quickly, you embraced him and told him you'd love him no matter what.

— Satoru loves to place the heads of delphiniums around your home whilst you're at work. You were vaguely annoyed by it at first, scolding him (though with no spine) for making a mess of your place of living. One day, though, you find yourself smiling at the violet-blue buttercup staring you in the face from the inside of your medicine cabinet. Satoru makes sure to hide extra flowers for you to come across whenever he has to go on long missions, leaving you something of his for you to find so you "don't miss him too much". You feel your heart swell with love each time you find another flower.

❀ GETO SUGURU : ZINNIA — LASTING AFFECTION, DAILY REMEMBRANCE, AND GOOD MEMORIES.

You and Suguru were textbook high school sweethearts—spending your days together outside of classes, holding hands or locking pinkies whenever you were in the vicinity of one another, watching the sun rise and set together. You were practically made for each other, and as grossed out by you as everyone else was, they couldn't deny that fact. You and Suguru were undeniably, irrevocably in love with each other.

That's why his betrayal left such a dark stain of hurt on your heart, so full of him that you weren't sure you could call it your own anymore. Waking up to a cold, empty bed that you once shared, buying him things you think he'd like just for them to gather dust on your dresser—not one day went by where you didn't think of Suguru and the curse of love he'd left with you, gnawing away at your heart as a constant reminder of not only what once was, but what could have been.

You never held any hatred for the boy who was a traitor to Jujutsu Society, the one who would meet your lips with a sweet kiss each morning, night, and any time in between, who would dance with you in your room to a song sung by himself to cheer you up after a particularly gruelling day. You remembered nothing but the good things, and you could only hope he remembered you, too.

— Suguru has a bouquet of zinnia kept in a delicate vase next to a photo of the two of you on a small table in the corner of his room. He finds himself smiling as his eyes land upon them, spritzing them with a bit of water if he finds that they're drying out, replacing them upon noticing the petals begin to wilt. With each spritz of water, he remembers everything the two of you shared, both the good and the bad—now, all that's left of the two of you is a fond memory.

❀ NANAMI KENTO : LILY — PURITY OF THE HEART AND REFINED BEAUTY.

Kento was a tired man who devoted himself to his work, so much so that he never really had the time to let himself think about anything but an upcoming project or deadline he had to meet—that was until you managed to worm your way into his heart.

Your innocence was what initially drew him in, your gentle gaze and soft hands clean of sin. Your ignorance, at first, bubbled a sense of annoyance from deep within his chest, but only after pondering his feelings did he realize he did not resent you, but envied you, your purity and kind-heartedness.

If he was unable to live a life of comfort, of happiness, then he could at least keep you safe from the angry claws of the cruel world. The feeling of solace Kento so craved, he found in you.

— No matter how tired he was after a long day at work, once a week, Kento always makes sure to pick up a bouquet of lilies for you before returning home. Seeing your eyes light up and face break out into a smile always manages to brighten his day, too, no matter how exhausted he's feeling; if you're happy, then he is, too.

❀ KAMO CHOSO : GLADIOLUS — REMEMBRANCE, FAITHFULNESS, AND SINCERITY.

No matter what time or day, Choso's thoughts were clouded with nothing but the thought of you. He was undeniably infatuated with you, from the way your fingers ran through his hair on a lazy day to the way your shampoo and perfume always seemed to match. There wasn't a moment in his life where he didn't think of you.

Choose was sincere in his feelings for you—when the words "I love you" fell from his lips, he swore that, leading up to that moment, nothing he'd ever said held as much truth as did that declaration.

— Choose gifts you a small arrangement of gladioluses, along with a small note attached to the metallic string holding them together. Written in his messy scrawl is a short message about how he adores you so, all wrapped up with a small, asymmetrically-drawn heart and a dopey smiley face. You keep the note in the drawer of your bedside drawer and find yourself looking at it when you're missing him.

❀ MAHITO : LAVENDER — LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.

With Mahito, it wasn't so much love at first sight as it was intrigue.

You weren't afraid of him the very first time he'd appeared before you, nor when he'd turned the two attackers attempting to shake you down of your valuables into faceless, disgusting curses—hell, you'd even asked him to walk you home. What kind of a person wouldn't be afraid of him? Who could do such a thing?

That's why Mahito was so utterly fascinated by you.

He began frequenting your apartment, something which caught you by surprise the first time he did so (you thought he was an intruder and threw a tv remote at him, he thought it was funny), but after a while, you began to grow used to his somewhat eerie presence always lurking behind or beside you—you found your apartment feeling almost empty on the days where he didn't show up.

You craved the moments when he would appear beside you, plopping down on your couch next to you and completely disregarding your evident exhaustion following a hard day at work to ask you incessant questions about what you'd done that day or if you'd missed him (he did so only to see the way you grew flustered and furiously deny his proposition). Feeling a sudden presence behind you as you typed away tirelessly at your computer, stopping only when you felt his hands fall on your tense shoulders and feeling your face grow extremely warm upon hearing his sultry voice purr in your ear: "Only relaxed when I'm around, huh?", you could no longer deny the voice in your head telling you that you liked having the curse for company.

You enjoyed having him around, however unnerving he was, and with each night that he found himself at your apartment, Mahito realized he enjoyed being around you, too.

— Mahito once asked you why you liked to keep a vase of flowers in the main room of your home; What's the point of taking care of something without a soul, much less put in the effort to keep it alive? It gives you a sense of responsibility, you tell him. If you find yourself too tired to take care of yourself, you can at least find happiness in the small flowers that relied on you to live. One day, he notices the petals growing dry and lifeless, and after coming home one night from work, plagued with exhaustion, you're pleasantly surprised to see the purple flowers replaced, flourishing and blossoming once again. Although you don't know why he did so—you seldom know why Mahito does anything, really—you can't help the smile making its way onto your face at the thought of the blue-haired curse who placed them there.

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