#low self esteem aside

[moonspirit]

Sorry, I'm having a craving for Armin's undercut so...

And his neck. And his Adam's apple.

Boy said: I'm done being a floof. I'm going to cut my hair in the sexiest possible way and cause mass murder pregnancies.

[varpusvaras]

Okay but, when it comes to jayroy, Lian and Jade, Jason would be in Jade's corner. Because Jade is a good mom. Jason's mom put a gun on his back and walked him to his death, and he still loved her. Jade loves Lian. That's all that matters to Jason.

[yea-baiyi]

anyway the tgcf extras had hua cheng carve a statue of himself and even his first attempt was a pretty decent likeness except in xie lian’s words, “slightly less handsome”. then he proceeded to carve 10,000 statues of himself at all stages of life which xie lian found perfectly acceptable, meaning he stopped seeing/depicting himself as ugly. it’s there in the book hua cheng doesn’t think he is ugly anymore that was 700 years ago can the fandom stop saying he hates himself now

[shiningnorthernlights]

.

[piperslovebot]

Interesting how for the most part in the later seasons, Donna is rational about everything except her relationship with Eric

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT LOKI'S SHOES (ACTUALLY, HIS WHOLE WARDROBE)

Production costs aside, clothes tell the audience about how characters think of themselves.

Loki's shoes in the S2 finale raised a lot eyebrows, but I find them quite fitting: they are comfortable, practical, and most importantly, they are humble. The camera brings this to our attention to communicate his evolution in character.

Loki has always dressed well, often times ostentatiously. Whether he is at war, passing as a Midgardian, or held captive as an Asgardian prisoner, Loki communicates his social class and sense of superiority through clothing. For him, clothing armors his fragile sense of self and against others' opinions of him. He intends to be perceived as deadly charming but ultimately unapproachable.

His attire in the first Thor movie is roughly equal parts green and gold, signifying his royal status. His style is dressed down for his brother's misadventures in Jotenheim, yet overall both silhouettes are lofty, princely, but not hardened or threatening.

In Avengers, Loki's look has more black and leather, with exaggerated emphasis on his shoulders meant to intimidate as he assumes the role of villain. The silhouette is very hard, heavy, and edgy. Gold detailing is prevalent as well. Combined with the goat's helm, this is Loki's most pretentious outfit, which speaks to an undercurrent of low self-esteem and a compulsive need to impress. There's no mistaking he is the main antagonist of the story.

In Thor 2, Loki's attire is similar to Avengers but the overcoat is exchanged for a less bulky version (perhaps conveying he is less guarded now that the effects of the Mind Stone are no longer influencing him). Loki's role likewise pivots from the harsh lines of a villain to the more flexible edges of a reluctant villain-turned-ally. This aligns with his character arc when he protects both Jane and Thor, seemingly sacrificing himself.

In Thor 3, Loki's silhouette is streamlined even further. The overcoat is done away with in favor of what appears to be a leather doublet, pauldrons, and vambraces. Gold accents are minimal. While stylish, Loki's attire is more practical than showy, and his helm serves the dual purpose of protection as well as weaponry. At this point in his arc, Loki has become a full antihero, joining his brother's side in rescuing as many Asgardians as possible, and eventually dying in a vain bid to protect Thor from Thanos.

The TVA does something very fun and interesting in taking away Loki's ability to dress himself. Since Loki cannot use his magic in the TVA, he is forced to wear the same clothing as his captor/advocate, who eventually becomes his best friend and peer.

Perhaps, on a subconscious level, this helped Loki to feel included. We know by his pwn admission that Loki fears being alone and desperately craves a sense of belonging. At the same time, he intentionally dresses to put people at a distance, thereby protecting himself from potential rejection at the cost of isolating himself further.

When Mobius gives him that TVA jacket for the first time, Loki seems uncharacteristically pleased. It is not an attractive jacket by any means, yet he neither scoffs at it nor refuses to wear it. Instead, Loki puts it on and is content when Mobius says it looks "smart" on him. He continues to dress like Mobius and, indeed, mimic some of his mannerisms such as placing his hands on his hips. Without clothing meant to push people away, Loki opens up, has more fun, and makes friends.

Loki's choice of attire as he assumes the mantle of God of Stories (and time) is fascinating. Setting aside the clear design inspiration from the comics, Loki's silhouette is soft, remarkably so. His colors are earthy hues of green, and the only bit of flare are the light gold trimming and crown. The look brings to mind the garb of sages and wise wizards rather than royalty or warriors. He's powerful yet approachable because there is humility in his bearing. And that humility springs from a well of healthy self-worth, self-love, and a deep love for others.

The shoes are not meant to be attractive. They are meant to help him ascend the throne, nothing more.

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (You're here)

Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 2

The moment you retreated to your room Alfred's gaze hardened as he looked at the kitchen door through which you had left.

With a sigh he returned to making breakfast, however, something couldn't stop going around in his head.

Why?

Why do you have to leave?

Why do you have to leave ME?

He doesn't blame you. Your "family" has done nothing but ignore you and push you aside on more than one occasion since you arrived at Wayne Manor. And if it weren't for him, Bruce wouldn't have remembered to pay for your needs and education.

No. He could never blame you for your decision, but he can blame Bruce and your brothers. He had never felt such anger for them, not even when Martha and Thomas died at the hands of that cruel man. But that never had a solution, but this did. His family has a solution and he was going to fix it for you and for you. To always have his ray of sunshine at his side.

He wasn't going to lose you without having fought a war.

But for now, he had to stay calm. He sighed once more and finally relaxed as he served breakfast on the plates. He has to talk to Duje after you told him about your decision.

He had to think with a cool head. As he had told Bruce many years ago: "Fear doesn't make you think clearly" and not only was he scared of his little ones going out into the world alone, he also had anger built up. And he was going to use those two feelings to his advantage.

It was not for nothing that he was a very feared soldier during the war.

You were in your room as usual texting with a friend when Duke knocked on your bedroom door before coming in.

"Hey (name)!" said Duke happily who sat on your bed while you sat at your desk

"Oh hey Duke!" you greeted him with a smile anyway "How was school today?"

"A little boring, but at least it's Friday now" he chuckled

"And you? How was your day?"

It's now or never.

You sighed and got up from your spot to sit next to him on your bed.

"I have something to tell you Duke…" you put a hand on his shoulder

"And what is it?" He asked worriedly seeing your seriousness "Don't tell me it's something bad"

"No, it's nothing bad. At least I don't consider it bad" you started to say "But, Duke, I've decided to move out of the mansion"

"…What?…" he said in a quiet tone of voice surprised by your words

No, it can't be…

"I know it's sudden, but I can't stand this place" you sighed "I want- No, I need to start over without being in the shadow of others"

You turned to look at him and caressed his cheek.

"But this doesn't mean we won't see each other again. We'll be able to talk and keep in touch" you offered him a smile

Without saying anything, Duke hugged you and nestled his head in the crook of your neck. You put a hand on his neck and caressed him.

"Just… Don't forget about me…" he said after a few minutes of silence.

He pulled away from you and wiped away some tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

"I could never do that, brother," you wiped one of his eyes with your thumb.

After that emotional conversation, you and Duke spent the afternoon in your room talking and watching movies on your laptop. However, Duke's mind was still on that conversation.

There was no chance that you would leave him. He had to find a way to prevent you from leaving his side.

The week you moved went by so fast that when you realized it, you were already taking the last box with your belongings out of the mansion.

You looked back at that mansion one last time and felt like that little kid again who arrived with fear and excitement to what he would call home for years. But soon your face darkened as you remembered the suffering you had experienced there. Without thinking twice, you turned around and got on your motorcycle, but not before securing your last box. You started the bike and left Wayne Manor.

You hadn't said goodbye to Alfred nor Duke but you left a letter on both of their beds wishing each of them the best, thanking them for everything and giving them the phone number of your second cell phone in case they needed something or just wanted to check on you. However, you didn't leave anything else, not even an address. You wanted to completely erase the Waynes from your life, you wanted to erase the fact that you were a Wayne too. You wanted to forget them so much that you turned off the cameras in the mansion for a period of time so you could take out your things in peace, so that no one would see the license plates of your motorcycle that you had been keeping at a friend's house and whose motorcycle was registered.

If nothing else, you had developed the same paranoia as Bruce and decided to take every measure to avoid being located. You even thought about going to live in Metropolis or Star City but the rent and sale of apartments there were much more expensive than in Gotham. Maybe when you earn more money once you finish college.

But for now focus on your present.

Before it is taken away from you.

When you got to your apartment you let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding. You looked around, there were some pieces of furniture that came with the apartment like a leather armchair that was a little worn but looked pretty new, a wooden bookcase, several coffee tables, some pots and kitchen stuff. The only thing you had to buy was your bed but your best friend did you the favor of giving you a headboard for your bed as a gift of independence and you only bought a mattress. It wasn't as comfortable as the one you had in the mansion but at least you had things you could consider yours. NOT thanks to Wayne, but thanks to your efforts.

You put the box on the kitchen counter and before going to your room you saw several boxes.

Damn... You hadn't thought about how lazy you were going to be when you had to unpack.

That same day you left, Alfred had returned from going grocery shopping. At that time of the morning you and he used to spend the morning together, while you were in your online classes, he did the housework along with the food. Between the breaks you had between classes you used to go see what he was doing in the kitchen and you were his personal taster.

Now that you were on vacation, you spent more time with him because Bruce, Tim and sometimes Damian went to Wayne Enterprises, Dick and Jason weren't usually at the mansion and Duke, Cass and Stephanie were training in the Batcave or with their friends. For that same reason Alfred was alarmed when he called your name and you didn't answer.

He quickly went up to your room only to find it completely empty. His heart raced and he started to sweat lightly.

You couldn't have left so quickly, right?

He went down again and checked all the rooms in the big mansion and found nothing. Only his own room was missing. As he entered he could see an envelope of your favorite color on his pillow. He approached and read it.

In the letter you apologized for not saying goodbye to him in person but if you did you were more than sure that you wouldn't be able to leave. You also left him a private cell phone number where he could call you and you wished him all the best.

It had been a long time since Alfred felt the need to cry but without realizing it he had already shed a few tears. He couldn't believe that his little one was already gone.

After having shed a few tears, he quickly wiped his eyes and composed himself. No, he couldn't cry because you were going to return. He was sure of that.

However, he would let you enjoy your independence a little before implementing his plan for you to return home to your family. With him.

But first he'll have to talk with Duke.

Helloooo! I hope you liked the second chapter! If you did leave a heart and i'll see you in the next one. I kind of think this chapter is kind of bland but the story is just begining. This are the first impressions of you leaving the Manor but soon enough the rest of the family will appear.

Thanks you for reading!

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

@eyeless-kun

[feefivefoe]

My little spinoff of the neglected Batfam idea.

Rather than being the 2nd youngest, reader is actually the same age as Jason, just a few months apart. Brought into the family years before him, being the 2nd child Bruce took in.

A bio child, and while I have my own ideas as to how it occurred, I'll leave those aside for this post.

Do keep in mind I'm not a huge DC fan, so I only have baseline knowledge of the Batfam and literally nothing else lol

Dick and Bruce aren't too interested in reader, as the troupe goes. But Jason is! There's a bit of tension at first as he assumes they're going to be a prissy spoiled brat, as Bruce's bio kid.

They don't get to be the closest of siblings, given he's busy with being the newest crime fighting vigilante. But it's the most reader has had in a long time, and at least Jason TRIES to be there for the occasional big life event, despite being a teenager like them. It's more than the adult family members of theirs do.

Then he dies. And neither Bruce or Dick even remember to tell reader when his funeral is. Even Alfred didn't mention it, assuming the death of their family member would be the one thing they speak about, even if it's just to mourn.

Years later and the butler still curses himself for assuming. He knew better, and yet still tried to have faith in the two.

That's the final straw. They missed the funeral of their only family. They had to ask Alfred where his grave was in order to say their goodbyes.

Perhaps due to low self esteem, they don't hate Bruce, or Dick, or later Tim. Of course Gotham is more important than the feelings of one child.

But they aren't family. They're just housemates.

Which is perhaps why, the first chance they get at 18 (technically 17, but nobody in the city cared enough about legalities to actually follow through with checking their ID) they get the hell out of that manor.

Discarding every connection they had to that family. Phone tossed aside, new one with a new number obtained. Even throwing out any contact with Alfred.

And as a result, they miss that Jason is revived just a year or two later.

Not that his first thought is finding them. He was just brought back from the dead, the man has other things on his mind, okay?

But once his thoughts of vengeance have settled down, he starts settling in to the new normal, only to look around and see a sibling is missing.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 11 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: "I told you what would happen, if you ever tried to leave."

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, near-death, choking, not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Everything had happened pretty quickly.

Too fast for your brain to comprehend, actually. And a part of you almost didn’t mind, while you sat there, surrounded by darkness.

Some things are better not understood.

He had kept his tight grip around your shoulders, pressing you into his side possessively. You had always known he was the possessive type, the obsessive type even. And a part of you almost reveled in it. The part of you that was jealous, too – and a little possessive as well – would have felt delighted about these circumstances.

But the situation at hand was too tense. Too dangerous. You knew him.

At least a little.

You knew how angry he got over nothing. And this wasn’t nothing.

He kept speaking with the man in Korean, keeping his tone polite and light-hearted. You didn’t know what they were saying, since you knew no more than a few words in Korean. You had spent quite some time in the country, but you simply spoke English with everyone. You didn’t speak to many people anyway. Only your boss, a few clients and him.

They spoke and spoke. Obviously about something regarding the apartment. You could tell by the way they way gesturing and glancing around, pointing at one of the rain gutters. The man kept glancing your way every few seconds though. He tried not to make it too obvious, but you still felt his scrutinizing gaze, sizing you up, trying to understand what the hell was going on.

But not him. Aside from his tight grip on you, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You didn’t exist. But you knew, you were more than sure, he was thinking about you. Thinking about all the heinous things he would do to you once you were alone. And you already felt sick.

You took a slow breath, when you heard the Korean word for wife. A subtle nod, a playful smile, a teasing pinch to your cheek. Yeah, you were his wife. Of course.

You didn’t understand what exactly he was saying, but you understood that much. After he introduced you as his wife, you looked at him first, then back at the other man, an unsure smile on your lips. It looked strained and forced, but you did your best to make it look convincing.

But how could you be a good actress, when you were frozen in fear?

The man looked at you again, the tiniest frown on his face. Eventually he nodded and forced a smile himself, directed at him. He smiled back. Tightly. Politely. And you knew you were fucked.

The man turned around, ready to leave you in the fangs of the man who was, no doubt, going to gut you alive.

You hadn’t tried to escape. But you knew he wasn’t going to believe you.

You slowly looked up at him, fully expecting him to knock you out on the spot, but he did something else instead. He still had that deranged smile on his face, when he reached for the candlestick from the dresser. And you were immediately sure.

This was worse than anything he could do to you.

You watched in horror as he took a quick step forward and hit the man in the back of his head with the candlestick. He then let out a pained groan and fell to his knees immediately. Your eyes widened and you shrieked in horror.

“No, what are you doing?!”

Instead of answering, he pushed you back inside and dropped to his knees beside the man, hitting him again and again. Again and again.

Until his head was no more than a bloody mess.

Your eyes widened impossibly and you stumbled backwards, far enough for your back to hit the wall. You felt nauseous. You were sure you were going to…

You stumbled to your knees, doubled over and spat. It wasn’t much, after all you hadn’t eaten anything yet. All you had done was fight with him and have sex with him. No food.

And then that. You reached out a shaky hand to wipe your face dry, but you didn’t dare to look up. He continued beating the poor man, long after he wasn’t moving anymore. The poor, nice, elderly man, who did nothing but look out for you.

A hard shudder shook your body and you heard a desperate sob choke up in your throat. All you wanted was to run. Leave.

Now, you wanted to leave.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. You were still sleeping. Still dreaming. Having a nightmare. That must have been it.

But no, it was indeed real. You forced yourself to look up and what you saw made you feel even worse. The poor man, still and lifeless, beaten to a bloody pulp. Hovering above him, the curse of your existence.

His hair was a mess and his eyes wide and crazy. You could barely make out his hands under all the blood and his cheek was covered under a thick smear of the same blood.

For a short, serene moment he glanced down at the man at his feet, almost as if he was assessing him.

Almost like he was admiring a well-cherished piece of art.

He looked so peaceful.

Until he looked up and his gaze met yours. All the peace vanished and everything that stayed was cold and unfeeling. Resentful. Maybe even hateful.

You gasped and tried to back away, but the wall behind you wouldn’t let you. You felt trapped in your own body, trapped in his living room, trapped in a life that you didn’t deserve. That you didn’t want. Or did you?

When he got up and rushed towards you like an angry bull, all you could suddenly think about was how disappointing your life had been so far.

When you already had to die, how beautiful would it be to be able to think; at least I lived my life to the fullest.

You couldn’t think such a thing. No, on the contrary, your life had been a collection of haunting, painful moments.

But at least you met him.

You were surprised, when the thought hit you, but it did make sense, didn’t it?

Yes, he hurt you.

Yes, he abused you.

Yes, he treated you overall horrible.

But he did something else as well.

He cared for you. He kissed you. He made you feel so…

So…

My love.

You flinched when he yanked you up by your hair and to your feet.

“No, please!” You cried out in horror and desperation. You were shaking furiously and you instantly cowered down, trying to keep your face out of his bruising grip.

The expression he wore was beyond furious, but all you could really focus on was the blood.

If he killed a man like that, with his bare hands, not even taking a single second to think about it, why would he ever spare you?

“Please, I didn’t try to leave!” You called out in a frenzy. Your voice shook like crazy and so did your hands.

He growled and wrapped a hand around your throat, slamming you against the wall so hard that you instantly felt dizziness take over. You tried to stay present, stay clear, stay you as good as you could, but it was hard under all the shaking and yelling.

“Please!” You now sobbed. “Please, I swear to you, I would never-“

“Shut up!” He yelled furiously and slammed you against the wall even harder, causing you to wince and cry out in pain. “I told you what would happen, if you ever tried to leave.” He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on your throat. The ability to breathe left you the same instant and you desperately clawed at his wrist.

You were sure you had a concussion at least, but what was far worse, was the lack of air.

He would kill you, you suddenly realized. And this time, he really would.

You kept clawing and scratching at his skin desperately, gasping and crying, while no sounds actually left your lips. You slowly felt your life fade away. Everything faded away. All the colors.

All that was left was his face. His beautiful, handsome face, tinged with the blood of an innocent man.

At least you’d see his face, you suddenly thought. At least you’d die as…

“You’re not my girl.” He gritted out and tightened his grip even more. "You never were."

More tears welled up in your eyes, when you realized, there was not a thing in the world he could have said that would have hurt you more. And now it would be the last thing you would get to hear, right before you died?

How cruel. How incredibly cruel.

“Plea-“ You croaked out, while you slowly felt everything fade into a mixture of darkness and warm, white light.

Was this death? Would it be peaceful? Maybe you would prefer it over life. Maybe you would finally know real peace, real serenity. Maybe you would finally feel.

Your eyes drooped slowly and you knew, this was it.

Your life – or whatever you wanted to call it…your torment? Your punishment? It was finally over. Your time had come. This was it.

At least you died by his hand. You loved him, after all. And maybe you even forgave him.

You most definitely did. He was just complicated. You had always known it would happen this way. You just didn’t know it would happen so soon. You hoped you’d have more time with him.

Only an hour ago you had been curled up on his lap, feeling him so closely, being one with him.

And now it was him who took you out. A part of you was thankful it was him and not your mother. At least it was someone who felt something for you, other than resentment and blistering hate.

Suddenly you felt you had to tell him. Let him know. What was there left to lose? You were already half dead. You didn’t want to die while never having said it.

You had to say it. At least this once. At least to someone who kissed you, because he wanted to. Not because he’d lost a bet.

To someone who’d look at you with soft eyes and read your favorite books to you.

Someone who left you the choice of taking the pills or taking the risk.

Someone who had chosen you.

He wanted you. And you loved him.

You forced your eyes open and met his gaze. He looked equally as angry as he looked something else.

Suffering.

He looked like he was in pain. Horrible, physical pain.

Just say it. He can’t do anything more than kill you.

He could reject you. That would be worse than death. But you decided to be brave, at least this one time in your life. No numbness, no helplessness. Just be brave.

You somehow managed to part your lips. There was no air left in the world. You barely managed to keep your eyes open and your lungs burned like fire.

Your vision was blurred with tears and sweat and fear and peace.

And somehow you smiled.

It was so subtle, it was barely visible. But you knew you did. The most genuine smile in…forever.

“I love you.”

The words were as quiet as the wind on a day in early spring. When the first leaves and flowers bloom between March and April, the wind sings a quiet song and brings earth back to life.

That was exactly how your voice sounded. It couldn’t be heard. It could only be felt.

And he felt it.

His eyes widened in a way you hadn’t ever seen before. He looked so young and horrified. You almost pitied him.

Before you even realized what was going on, you suddenly felt air flood your lungs. He had removed his hand. It dropped to his side as he stared at you, speechless and dumbfounded.

The blood, it somehow suited him. Like it was a part of him.

That, and the craziness in his eyes, was the only thing that made it seem like he wasn’t entirely sweet and innocent.

He looked so terrified.

You doubled over and gasped for air hungrily. Your body reacted on instant, bringing you back to life. The warmth of the white light faded into nothingness and the colors in front of you became as bright as ever. You weren’t dead.

You clutched your throat with shaky fingers and slowly looked up through the veil that was your hair. You were still gasping and panting desperately, but he looked far worse.

He looked…he looked…

He looked so confused. So torn.

The anger was still there, simmering right beneath the surface and ready to bubble up and strangle you. But he couldn’t meet your gaze. Now it were his hands shaking as he reached out and ran them through his messy hair.

You had no time to realize where you even were and what was going on. He reached out a hand, ready to slap you, his teeth gritted and his lip quivering in rage.

Unfortunately you felt far too weak to cower this time, so you would just have to take the blow and continue on living.

No peace in sight. Not for you, anyway.

But he held himself back. It seemed to cost him all the strength he possessed, but he didn’t hit you this time. Instead he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you along, until you were back in your room. He rushed and pulled the door to the wardrobe open, pushing you inside roughly. You stumbled and fell to your knees with a hoarse grunt.

Maybe he’d shoot you, you suddenly thought.

Maybe he’d let you starve.

Maybe he didn’t have the strength to watch you suffer. Maybe he wanted to end you quickly.

You had no time to think about, because a moment later, he slammed the door shut and locked it.

And you finally got to breathe. You inhaled so desperately, so hungrily, dying to breathe real air. But there was none in sight. Not for you.

All there was, was a cramped wardrobe and a girl on the ground, fighting for her life.

You didn’t even hear your own sobs or feel the marks building on your neck.

All you heard in your head was his voice.

And the sound of his silent rejection.

____________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

[itneverendshere]

Could you maybe do a one shot of insecure reader x rafe? Reader doesn't believe Rafe finds her actually sexually attractive and her insecurities/bad self esteem are putting a strain on their relationship. And there is that whole ''her having a problem with him liking her, because she does not like herself so she is uncomfortable and pushes him away'' type of deal. Maybe he shots himself in the foot when she asks if he finds her attractive, and because he knows her self esteem is so low, he is trying to comfort her by answering ''Looks aren't important in life '' and she feels heartbroken. She from then is short in texts, doesn't answer his calls etc.

get to the bottom of you - r.c (+18)

pairing: insecure!reader x lover boy!rafe warnings: angst; mentions of low self-esteem; smut

His room should have been a place of comfort—a place where you felt safe—it wasn’t tonight.

You could hear him moving around in the bathroom, the sound of the faucet running, the clinking of his toothbrush against the sink. You should have been inside with him, brushing your teeth side by side, playfully jostling him with your elbow like you usually did. His laughter had echoed through the door just a few minutes ago as he’d told some joke you didn’t catch.

Normally, you’d laugh too, even if you didn’t understand the punchline, but tonight you barely mustered a smile. You couldn’t help it. You’d been feeling off for days now.

You loved him. That wasn’t in question. But the doubts mocking you—the insecurity, the voice in your head that whispered, why would he want someone like you?—were getting louder. It had been there since the start, this ever-present thought that you were out of place. That a guy like Rafe couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like you.

You loved him with everything you had, but how could you let him love you back when you couldn’t even like yourself?

He had been nothing but patient with you since the beginning, but no matter how many times he reassured you, the voice in your head—the one that whispered that you weren’t good enough, that you weren’t what he wanted—never seemed to quiet down. You couldn’t see yourself the way Rafe did. The compliments he gave you always felt empty, like he was just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. 

Earlier tonight, he'd had been busy texting on his phone, and the longer you sat there, the more the voices in your head snapped at you. He hadn’t looked at you in what felt like hours, hadn’t even noticed the way you’d been shifting awkwardly in your seat.

He was the guy who turned heads when he walked into a room. Confident, self-assured, with a sharp smile and piercing blue eyes that could make anyone feel like the center of the universe.

You weren’t like the girls you’d seen him with before. They were stunning, all sharp cheekbones, and perfect hair, the kind of women that could stop someone in their tracks. You, on the other hand, had always been self-conscious—your appearance, your body, the way you looked in clothes. It wasn’t that you hated yourself exactly; you just… never felt enough. Not enough for someone like him.

That’s what kept you up at night.

The door opened, and Rafe stepped out, smiling at you, toothbrush still in hand.

His blue eyes sparkled as he walked over to you, leaning against the wall casually. His hair was damp from washing his face, and he had that easy, relaxed look on his face that usually made your heart flutter. 

“You okay, baby?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing, as always.

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile,“Yeah, just tired,” you murmured, pushing your phone aside and getting up from the bed. You crossed the room to the window, feeling the cool breeze against your skin.

You hated this—hated that you couldn’t just let things be, hated that your mind was always spinning in circles, convincing you that something was wrong. But it was hard to shake the feeling that you didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve him.

He, always so perceptive, frowned slightly and walked over to you. He placed his hands on your waist and gently pulled you back against him. His warmth should’ve been reassuring, but instead, it only made you feel more fragile. “You sure?” he pressed, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you lied again, this time a little more firmly, hoping he wouldn’t push.

But of course, he did.

 “You’ve been quiet all night.” His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. Normally, you’d melt into him, but tonight, it felt different. Heavy.

You stared out at the darkened horizon, biting your lip. Maybe this was your moment to ask the question that had been eating at you for the past weeks, but every time you shoved it back down, afraid of the answer.

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to sound ridiculous, didn’t want to admit how insecure you felt. “Rafe..”

“Yeah?” he whispered, his breath tickling your neck.

Your fingers twisted in the fabric of your shirt, his shirt, and you turned around in his arms, meeting his focused gaze. “Do you… do you find me attractive?”

His brows furrowed at your question. It was such a simple question, but to you, it felt like everything. Like the entire foundation of your relationship was resting on his answer. Your heart was pounding now, and you could feel the burn of tears threatening to surface.

“What?” he asked softly, “Why would you even ask that?”

You felt a lump in your throat, and you swallowed hard. “I just… I need to know.”

Rafe’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. He opened his mouth to speak, but then hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. You watched his eyes flicker with uncertainty, and that hesitation made your heart sink.

“Looks aren’t everything, y'know,” he said quietly, his tone careful, as if he was walking on eggshells.

You froze.

His words echoed again in your head, and your worst fear—the one that had been brewing inside you for so long—solidified in front of you.

Looks aren’t everything.

He wasn’t saying yes. He wasn’t reassuring you, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he wanted you, how much you meant to him. Instead, he was saying that it didn’t matter. That it was irrelevant. Your chest tightened, and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the heartbreak that was building in your veins.

You pushed him away gently, stepping back out of his embrace.

“Right,” you whispered, your voice breaking. You couldn’t look at him now, not with your vision swimming and your throat closing up.

“Wait, that’s not—” Rafe began, stepping forward, his hand reaching for you. “That’s not what I meant. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“C-Can you please let me go?”

He didn’t want you, not in the way you needed him to.

He must have seen the change in your expression, because his eyes widened, and he immediately backpedaled. “No, no, you know hat’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, his voice tinged with panic. “I didn’t mean—”

You pulled your hand away from his, shaking your head as the tears welled up in your eyes. “It’s fine,” you whispered, even though it wasn’t. Your voice cracked, and you hated that you couldn’t keep it together.

Rafe reached for you again, but you stood up before he could grab your hand. “Hey, wait,” he said, standing up as well, his voice pleading now. “That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

But you couldn’t listen to him, not when every insecurity you had about yourself had just been confirmed. You didn’t want to hear him explain, didn’t want to hear whatever excuse he was going to give you. You needed space. 

Without another word, you turned and walked to the door, your hands trembling as you reached for the handle.

"Please don’t go," Rafe's voice was quiet, a vulnerability in it that you weren’t used to hearing. He sounded scared, and that hurt even more because you knew this wasn’t his fault. Not really. It was you—your insecurities, your doubts, your inability to believe that someone like him could truly want someone like you.

"I just need a minute.”

The hallway felt cold compared to the warmth of his room. You pressed your back against the wall, sinking to the floor, your knees pulled to your chest. You could still hear him moving around inside, pacing maybe, and it made your stomach twist in knots.

How had things gone so wrong so quickly?

You buried your face in your hands, trying to calm yourself but it was no use. The tears came, hot and fast, burning your cheeks as you sobbed quietly. You hated this. You hated feeling so unsure of yourself, so small, so unworthy. And you hated that Rafe, the one person who made you feel safe, had unknowingly thrown all of that into question.

Looks aren’t everything.

It wasn't about whether you thought he was shallow—Rafe had never been that type of guy—but the way he hesitated, the way he tiptoed around your question.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out, your vision still blurry from the tears. It was a group chat notification from the friends you had been out with earlier that week. A picture had been sent, one of the group photos taken during the event. You scanned through it, your attention landing on a figure that made your heart sink further—her.

Rafe’s ex, standing tall and confident beside him, her radiant smile lighting up the frame. Her beauty was undeniable—perfectly coiffed hair, a jawline that could cut glass, and an air of effortless poise that seemed to draw everyone in. Adriana Lima, but real. 

And next to her? You.

The contrast between you two felt overwhelming. How could you, with your insecurities and imperfections, ever hope to measure up to someone like her? The thought that Rafe had once been with someone like that, someone who seemed flawless in every way... it killed you.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t even hers. It was you.

You needed to leave. You needed space. Without another glance back, you pushed yourself off the floor and slipped out his house, the hallway eerily quiet as you hurried toward the stairs, wiping at your tear-streaked face.

As the door slid shut, you could hear the faint sound of his footsteps, but by then it was too late. You got in your car speeding off before he could open the door.

After that night, things only got worse. You’d pulled back, distancing yourself from him in every way possible. You didn’t answer his texts for hours, and when you did, they were short, clipped replies. You stopped calling him back, ignored the missed calls that filled your phone—everything. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him; you just couldn’t. Not yet.

You hated it. You hated yourself for pushing him away, but more than that, you hated the way you couldn’t stop spiraling.

You avoided places where you might run into him. No coffee shops, no mutual friends’ gatherings. You threw yourself into work, into anything that could distract you from thinking about him, about the look on his face when you’d left him there.

You missed him—missed his laugh, missed the way he’d pull you close just because, missed the way he’d make you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

On the third night, you were lying in bed, staring blankly at your phone screen. Rafe had sent a text earlier, and though you’d ignored it, you couldn’t bring yourself to delete it like the others.

Rafe: i miss you. please talk to me. just want to know you’re okay.

You squeezed your eyes shut, clutching the phone tighter in your hand. You wanted to answer. You wanted to tell him that you missed him too, that you were okay—but the truth was, you weren’t. You hadn’t been okay for a long time, and you didn’t know how to explain that to him. Every little insecurity, every time you’d felt like you weren’t enough.

Your chest tightened again, you wished you could be different, stronger, more secure in yourself. You wished you could believe him, that you could trust his words. Your phone buzzed again, and this time you hesitated before picking it up. It was another text from him.

Rafe: i get that you need space, but please don’t shut me out. i don’t know what else to say except i love you. i just wanna talk.

I love you.

You stared at the words on the screen. He loved you. Maybe that should have been enough. Maybe it was enough, but somehow, you still felt hollow, still felt like you were standing on the outside of your own life. You locked your phone without responding, tossing it onto the bed next to you as you buried your face in your hands.

You were terrified that if you let him in now if you finally told him how you felt, it might break something between you two. But hadn’t something already broken?

The next two weeks seemed never-ending, the hours blurring together as you went through the motions at your internship, half-heartedly responding to emails, nodding through conversations, and generally just existing.

By the time you returned home, you felt like you’d been run over by a truck. As you kicked off your shoes, there was a soft knock on your door.

Your heart sank.

You knew it was him before you even opened it. Rafe stood there, his hands in his pockets. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. 

“Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading, searching your face for any sign that you might push him away again.

You stepped back, letting him in, and closed the door softly behind him. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you gestured for him to sit, though neither of you moved right away. Rafe stayed standing, studying your face, and you could tell that he was trying to figure out how to begin.

“I—" he started, but then stopped, running a hand through his hair, like he’d been rehearsing those words over and over in his head. “I don’t know what to say, honestly. I’ve been trying to figure out what I did wrong, what I said wrong. But I don’t think it’s just about what I said that night, is it?”

He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t frustrated—he was just… sad. Sad that you hadn’t let him in. Sad that you had been carrying all of this on your own.

You felt a lump form in your throat, and your chest tightened again, but this time it was from knowing you’d done this to him. It was from knowing that you’d pushed him away.

You couldn’t run from this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “It’s not you. It’s me. I know that’s such a cliché, but—I don’t know how to fix this.”

Rafe took a cautious step closer, his hands still in his pockets, like he didn’t want to crowd you but couldn’t stay away either.

“I don’t need you to fix anything. Just need you to talk to me, okay? To tell me what’s going on in your pretty head, even if it’s hard.”

“I don’t understand why you’d want to be with someone like me.”

His brows knitted together in concern. “Someone like you?” he repeated, like the concept was absurd. He stepped closer again, reaching for your hand, but this time you didn’t pull away, “You mean the love of my life?”

The love of his life.

It sounded so easy when he said it. So genuine. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d never even considered anyone else. But how could he be so sure when you weren’t?

“What if you get tired of me?” your voice was so meek it nearly killed him, the fear in your voice so so vulnerable. “What if one day, you wake up and realize you could be with someone better? Someone like—”

“Stop,” he interrupted his voice firm. “There is no someone else, baby. There is no one better. M' here because I want to be here. With you. I chose you. I’ll keep choosing you. Even when you’re doubting yourself, even when you think you don’t deserve it. I’ll still be here, because I love you. And I need you to believe that, okay?”

You swallowed hard, your chest still aching from the emotion bubbling up inside you. 

“But what if I can’t stop doubting?” 

Rafe stepped closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze, “Then we’ll work through it together,” he said softly. “M' not going anywhere. Doubt all you want. Question it if you have to. But don’t ever shut me out again, you hear me? I can’t lose you.”

Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed softly across your cheek, his attention unwavering, filled with a tenderness that nearly broke you. There he was, standing in front of you, patient, willing to wait, to love you through every insecurity you tried to hide.

“Okay,” you muttered.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he brushed a tear away with his thumb. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice hopeful, as if he was waiting for a sign that maybe you were ready to let him in again.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice not to break. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be held by him.

“Lemme prove it to you, please.”

His eyes flickered to your lips, and then his hand was on the back of your neck, tugging you to him. Your lips met his in a hungry kiss, moving together and tongues running along one another.

He grips your waist and moved you like you weigh nothing. You could feel his warmth seeping into your skin, and for the first time in days, your insecurities started to lift. His lips never left yours, deepening the kiss as he pressed you against the door, his body flush against yours, grounding you.

His hands touched your body with a gentle urgency, pulling you closer, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, blunt fingernails digging into your skin. 

He broke the kiss for a moment, breathless, his lips shiny with your spit, “You don’t see it, do you?” he murmured softly, his fingers tracing your lips with a reverence that made your heart burst, “You don’t know how badly I want you. How perfect you are to me.”

His hands moved lower, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, his touch firm but gentle as if reassuring you that he meant every word.

“Let me show you,” he repeated, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth before trailing down to your jaw, then lower to your neck, where he placed soft, heated sloppy kisses that made you shiver. “Every inch of you, fuck—I love everything.”

His big hands moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh so hard, you were sure it would bruise. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groaned against your lips, his hands now sliding under your sleeping shorts, feeling every inch of bare skin. “Your skin—so soft. I can’t get enough of you.” 

A fervent moan slipped past your lips when his hard cock pressed against your thighs. You could feel his breath against your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there, making you gasp.

“I need you,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough with want. "I need you to believe me."

And for a moment, you did. You let yourself sink into him, his warmth, his strength, his words—all of it. You let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could love you the way you needed him to.

His fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, pulling it up as his lips trailed lower, over your collarbone, to the top of your chest. His hands squeeze the flesh of your ass, a sharp slap echoing through the room as you whimpered, and he chuckled before taking a nipple into his mouth and working it with his tongue.

His hands were everywhere—gripping, squeezing, exploring—as though he was trying to memorize every inch of you, to show you exactly what he meant.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging softly before your nails pressed into his neck, eliciting a groan against your nipple. He then shifted to the other side, his tongue flickering rapidly against the hardening peak. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his hands moved over you with such care, made your head spin. 

You gasped as his mouth worked its magic, alternating between teasing bites and soft licks that.

"Rafe..." you breathed, your voice shaky as his lips trailed back up, capturing yours again in a heated kiss. You could feel him everywhere, pressing into you. It was overwhelming, the way he moved, the way he held you like you were the only thing that mattered.

His fingers slid under the waistband of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin of your hips before he tugged them down in one swift motion. You kicked them off, your breath quickening as he pressed himself against you, his hard cock straining against the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Do you believe me now?” he groaned against your lips, his voice hoarse from how long he’d been kissing every part of you.

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to hear you say it. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"I believe you.”

His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, every dip, like he was worshipping you. He lifted you easily, carrying you over to the couch and laying you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. You watched as he stood, pulling off his shirt and boxers in one fluid motion before climbing over you, his body hovering just above yours.

His skin was warm, his muscles tense as he held himself back, waiting for your permission. You reached up, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw, his chest, his abs, before pulling him down to you. He settled between your legs, his cock pressing against your heat, and you moaned softly, your body arching into his.

“God, I need you,” he groaned, his hips rolling against yours in a slow, torturous rhythm, his head nudging your clit, "Tell me you need me too."

“I do,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I need you, Rafe.”

That was all he needed to hear.

With one swift motion, he lined himself up and pushed inside you, filling you completely. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he stretched you, the feeling of him inside you so intense it made your head spin. He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged as he gave you a second to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “So perfect for me.”

His breathing was already ragged, soft moans filling your ears as moved with him. 

“Fuckin’—You were made for me, weren’t you?” He murmured against your ear, nipping at your earlobe as he gripped your hips. 

His words made your head spin, and you felt your breath stutter as you clamped down around him. He grinned against your ear, using the grip on your hair to tug your head back and look into your eyes.

You nodded, nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes, f-fuck—”

His smile widened and he thrusted into you faster, the slap of skin on skin growing louder, “Atta girl. That’s my baby.”

"Rafe," you gasped, his name falling from your lips in a breathy moan as he hit a spot deep inside you that sent a wave of pleasure rolling through your body. He growled low in his throat at the sound, his hips rolling faster, driving deeper, his breath hot against your skin.

"Say it again," he urged, his voice a low rasp against your ear as his teeth grazed your neck. "Say my name."

You complied, your fingers digging into his back as you whispered his name again and again, each time more broken, more desperate. He groaned in response, his movements becoming rougher, more frantic as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I love you,” he breathed out, the sincerity of his words almost lost in the haze of pleasure that surrounded you both. But you heard it—you felt it—and it was enough to push you closer to the edge.

His hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, deliberate circles that made you cry out, your back arching off the couch as the pleasure built, spiraling higher and higher until you could barely breathe.

"I-I love you," he said again, the words spilling out between ragged breaths as his thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. "God, I love you so much. You're everything to me."

Your body trembled beneath him, teetering on the edge of release. The way he was holding you, like you were the most precious thing in the world—it was all too much, too perfect. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down so that your lips met again, your need for him matching his in every way.

"Rafe," you gasped against his lips, your body arching into his as the tension coiled tighter inside you, ready to snap.

“I got you,” he murmured, his voice soothing yet rough, his forehead pressing against yours as his fingers worked you closer to the brink. “Come for me, baby. I need t’feel you.”

And you did—your body tensing, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you cried out his name. Rafe groaned as you clenched around him, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release, his grip on your waist almost bruising as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, moaning your name as he came.

He stayed there, hovering above you, his face buried in your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against your damp skin as you both came down from the high.

You didn’t speak right away, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, but when he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes were soft, full of that same tenderness you’d seen earlier. His thumb brushed your cheek as he gazed down at you with a look that made your heart swell.

He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face as he traced your cheek.

“You okay?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you met his gaze. “I think I am.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it. You weren’t perfect, and maybe you never would be. But right now, in this moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt like you were enough.

And that was more than enough for him.

[merakiui]

angels in tibet.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, obsession, abo/omegaverse (alpha azul & omega reader), knotting, brief implications of breeding, mirror sex, sugar daddy, age gap (azul is 50 and reader is 24) note - while experiencing a nasty bout of low self-esteem, you fear azul has lost interest in you. on the contrary, he can't get enough.

I’m not sure about this…

You fidget in front of the horizontal mirror, tugging at the sheer material of your violet babydoll. It’s a beautiful piece, matched with a pair of dainty, crotchless panties, but there’s something about it that doesn’t fit right. Will this make you more irresistible? Were you irresistible to begin with? Maybe you’re worrying over nothing. Azul is a very handsome alpha, looking as affluent as he sounds and smells. It’s natural he would receive all kinds of compliments. Having attended dozens of dinner dates with him throughout the year, you’ve grown accustomed to the occasional interruption—an omega overwhelmed with his presence or an alpha hoping to gain another wealthy connection.

Compared to the exquisite company he keeps, you feel worthless—a speck of nothing versus a brilliant something.

A gentle knock at the door shakes you from your self-conscious spiraling. You pat yourself down to give your anxious hands a mindless task.

“J-Just a moment!”

“Is everything all right?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror once more. “Yes, I’m fine! I’ll be out in a second.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time.”

Steeling your nerves, you swallow razored insecurities and reach for the knob.

Stop thinking about it. Lots of omegas approach him all the time. It’s the same for alphas and betas. Sometimes they approach me, too. You crack the door open and nervously step out into the bedroom. But he looked so happy when that one omega was talking to him…

Azul’s cerulean hues snap up to view you from where he lounges on the end of bed loveseat. His stare trails up the length of your legs, assessing every inch of you as if you’re a rare gemstone and he’s a skillful lapidary. You cover the distance to reach him, suddenly shy.

He runs his hands up your arms once you’re within reach. “I was right to assume that set would look stunning on you.”

“You’re always right,” you say with a superficial giggle, admiring his dusky eyeshadow behind the lenses of his glasses. You swipe his hair aside and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s nice. Thank you for the gift.”

Azul hums his acknowledgment. His hands crawl along your sides, grabbing at your hips. You allow yourself to be pulled down to his height, his thigh between your legs. Your bare pussy brushes against beige trousers, and it sends a pleasant shiver up your spine. His fingers dance across skin, searing in the same way his lips are when they ghost over the juncture between shoulder and neck. He licks and nips at the area for a moment before withdrawing slightly, his tongue free of the bitter, medicinal taste of suppressant gel.

“No blockers?”

“It’s fine. I’m with you, and my heat isn’t scheduled for another week.”

“What makes you think I won’t give into libertine impulse?”

At the sly implication that he’d mark you as his, you feel a fresh bout of slick pool between your legs, leaking out onto his thigh and wetting fine fabric. Azul notices this and chuckles.

“Y-You wouldn’t,” you manage through your embarrassment, shifting awkwardly.

“Is that right?”

“You probably want a better omega o-or a strong alpha. Someone like yourself.”

Azul, who had contented himself at your neck, pulls back to look at you. His hands settle upon your waist to hold you still—to prevent you from wriggling away.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing… I just assumed—well, you’re…you. I’m me.”

He frowns, easily reading between the lines. “Do you find yourself undesirable?”

“You’re popular. Rich. Good-looking… You could have anyone you want.”

“Variety means nothing if it doesn’t include my favorites.”

“I’m your favorite?”

“Such disbelief… Is it really so surreal?”

“But I’m nowhere near your level.”

“Who said you had to be?” Azul takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses the top of it. “You’re perfect as you are, mio tesoro.”

You spend a long minute watching him. He can’t really mean that. Azul isn’t your boyfriend or your alpha. He’s the parody of one—a sugar daddy who spoils you with luxurious trips and hefty allowances, and in return you offer your time, companionship, and body. Tonight is no different. Just another dinner as per the arrangement. Another night spent in a high-rise hotel. Another transaction.

“You don’t mean that,” you say, ice crystallizing each word. “You’re just saying that.”

“I have no reason to lie.” He glances past you at the tall floor mirror, an idea sparking in lust-lidded eyes. “I’ll prove it.”

His intentions are lost on you, even more so when he moves you off of his leg and onto the cushions below. You sit with your back against the bed, a concoction of curiosity and caution bubbling within you. You can smell him, crisp like a new car, the musky, unforgettable scent of salt and sage. Before you can ask, he lowers to his knees and parts your legs to get a look at your dripping pussy.

“So eager…” he muses, his breath fanning across your folds. You bite back a whine. “And it’s all for me.”

“All yours. Always yours.”

Another wave of alpha arousal blankets the room, thick like smoke. You realize he’s done away with his scent blockers for tonight. Could that explain your territorial jealousy and dampened mood? Is it because it’s bothersome to think that another omega expressed so much desire towards Azul—that they were treated to his enticing smell even though it’s a luxury often reserved for you? Is it really his money you’re after or something grander?

You want to think it’s the former.

It must be, right? There’s no way it could be the latter. You’re just caught between fantasy and reality, bordering a beautiful illusion garnished with the impossible. 

Azul’s fingers dig into the soft pudge of your inner thighs, spreading them further despite your weak attempt to shut them. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Don’t hide from me, principessa. It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”

“Still…” You flinch when he presses the pads of his fingers against your slit.

“What’s the matter?” He lifts his hand for you to see. Your slick clings to his digits in dewy strands. “You’re so wet for me, and yet you seem…distracted.”

“It’s nothing. I’m thinking.”

“About?” When you refuse to answer, he leans in to lick a languid stripe up your cunt. You slacken against the bed, a gasp rattling through your lungs. Azul makes a dramatic show of licking his lips clean. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me, bambolina.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, worrying your lip between your teeth, as you debate your next admission. Rather than say it outright, you tiptoe around it with a shaky mumbling: “D-Do you usually call other omegas by pretty names?”

“Just you.”

“Just me?”

“Have I not been unfalteringly faithful to you all this time?”

“You have. I’m just wondering…”

Azul waits for you to finish that sentence. When it becomes obvious you’ve lost it, he fills in the blanks. “I thought of you all throughout tonight’s dinner. So much it nearly spoiled my appetite.”

Unconvinced, you crack your eyes open to glimpse him. His head is between your legs, lips centimeters from your cunt, and it leaves you wilting once more. He looks good on his knees in his fancy suit. You wish he was yours.

What a dangerous wish.

Azul meets your stare. He removes his glasses and hands them off to you. 

“Be a dear and hold these for me.”

“Looks like a new pair.”

“I thought I’d try circular frames again. What do you think? Fitting, no?”

“Very fitting. Like an old man.”

Azul’s grip on your thighs tightens ever so slightly. His voice comes out sharp and strained when he speaks next. “Is that so? I assure you I’m still plenty youthful.”

“You age like wine, Mr. Ashengrotto. The finest kind.”

“And your beauty is timeless.”

“You say it so easily, but do you mean it?”

“Most ardently.”

Your argument is stifled when he leans in to taste you again. This time, rather than retreat, he remains between your legs. His lips are warm and soft against your pussy, his tongue all too tempting as it trails over the area. A startled gasp slips past parted lips when he pushes in, and it isn’t long until you’re deflating against the bed. 

Your doubtful thoughts are temporarily silenced, numbed with slow, slothful salacity. You grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging it tousled, and he groans in response to your harsh treatment.

“Ooh… Mmh, fuck…” You blink up at the ceiling, breathless.

Too good.

You push him closer to your crotch, to which he rewards you with a sloppy slurp of your slick. The obscenity of it all has you hot and aching, and you submit bonelessly to the bliss he provides as if you’re simply drifting down a calm river. Azul laps at your folds like a man parched. He hums his appreciative delight, each vibration shaking you to your core, and the sensations only serve to triple your pleasure when one of his hands slides over to find your clit. He tweaks it between two fingers just to listen to you come undone.

It takes everything in you not to crush him between your thighs. Although with how hungrily he fucks you with his tongue, you think he might enjoy the suffocation. He sets a sweet pace, one that has you grinding down against his mouth in a desperate attempt to reach your climax. You open your mouth to beg for more, but all that tumbles free are shaky gasps and low groans.

As if sensing your unspoken need, Azul draws his tongue out. A thin strand of saliva strings from your pussy and his lips, connecting both for a fraction. Just when you think he might’ve finished, he swaps his tongue for two fingers. They stretch you open while he nurses on your clit. Slowly, like he has all the time in the world in this opulent hotel room, he curls his slim digits inside you. They press against your walls, searching for the spongy spot that will have you seeing galaxies. Once more, you’re reduced to a foggy-headed mess.

In this room, where nothing else matters, it’s just you and him. There is no outside world. No other alphas, omegas, or betas who might distract him. No other factors that might convince him to toss you aside, to grow tired of you, to abandon you…

Azul takes full advantage of your woozy state, pumping his fingers in and out. Paired with the way he lavishes your clit with attention, it sends you spiraling into a sudden orgasm. You grip his hair forcefully, pin him in place, and gush on his face with a strangled moan. He stays between your legs to lick you through it, running his tongue across your folds to gather as much of your slick as possible. And then he’s pulling away to offer you a boyish grin, seeming quite proud of himself. It adds deceptive youth to his weathered features.

Blinking pleasured tears away, you gaze at him until his figure gradually gains clarity. His face is wet, glistening with your essence, and it fills you with newfound heat.

“That was quicker than I expected,” he says, his voice a playful purr. “Were you anticipating this? Or perhaps my technique is simply unmatched. You’ve always been so sensitive for—”

You move without forethought, grabbing at the jewel-encrusted lapels of his fashionable jacket to yank him up to your height. His blue eyes are blown wide, his mouth parted in the middle of a mute question, when you smash your mouth against his. It’s short and sloppy. You taste yourself on his tongue.

“So impatient…”

Recovering from the momentary startle with newfound cupidity, Azul surges forward for a real kiss. You breathe him in and come away with a noseful of pheromones. It spins your mind dizzy, banishes rationality to dark, desolate corners, and renders you addicted. You allow him to lick into your mouth to taste expensive wine in every crevice. You’re avaricious in your approach when you pull him closer, desiring to feel his weight against yours. He falls on top of you, his hands placed on either side of your head to keep himself propped, and you peer up at him through glazed eyes. It brings you smug satisfaction when you reach between your bodies to feel his erection straining against his pants.

Breathing hot and heavy, you scrabble to grab hold of his shoulders. “Kiss me again.”

“Aren’t you forward? If I didn’t know any better, I’d hazard a guess that you’re jealous.”

“I—” you clamp your mouth shut, debating your words, before opening it again— “I am. I want you all to myself. I want you to look at me and only me during our dinners. I hate when other omegas talk to you… It’s not fair. Why do you have to be so amazing?”

Your confession catches him off guard, for he blinks at you owlishly. The surprise doesn’t remain for long, though, because he quickly composes himself. A gentle smile graces his face next.

“It’s mere courtesy. I assure you I’ve thought of you the entire evening.”

“Just me?”

“Only you. At every hour of the day. Even when we’re apart.” His hand slides down to interlace with yours, and he leans closer to kiss both of your cheeks, one at a time. “I think of nothing else. Si il mio universo.”

“R-Really? So that… That omega who spoke to you—”

“They were kind, but I have no interest.”

You frown, suddenly perturbed. “But you could’ve if you wanted to. We’re not together in that way. There’s nothing stopping you.”

He raises a brow. “Is that what you want?” Your face falls further into dismay and he chuckles. “I don’t mind. You’re allowed to be greedy around me. I’m all yours tonight.”

But I want you forever.

Azul helps you up from the bed and leads you over to the mirror. You stare at yourself—at the you adorned in fleeting finery—and grimace. Is this really you? Is this who you want to be, an unclaimed omega stuck in a stagnant situationship?

“Tell me what you see,” he whispers, running his hands along your sides.

“Myself.”

“Anything else?”

“She’s a fool who’s jealous for no reason. For a dumb reason, actually.”

“‘Dumb’?” He scoffs. “No such thing.”

“But it is! It’s because—” I want to be yours. “I’m just being immature. I’m sorry. It’s ruining the mood.”

“Not at all.” Azul grasps your chin and turns your head towards the mirror. “When I look at you, I see in color. You make my world so indescribably vivid. Very few can accomplish such an impressive feat. You should be proud.”

“Why?”

“You’re a smart girl. I’d have thought you would’ve realized it by now.”

You track his hand like it’s a spider you’re hellbent on catching. Carefully, with keen intent. He speaks in honey-coated hauteur, as if anyone could’ve deciphered the meaning in his declarations, and it would’ve irked you if not for your distracting thoughts. 

He’s never told me any of this before. Is he saying it to placate me? Or does he actually mean it?

The answer is right there. You just don’t want to believe it.

Rather, you can’t. It’s impossible. 

“For the record, I disagree with all of this negative self-talk. You’re not dumb or immature. Not in my eyes.” His arms close around you from behind, and he laces his hands together at your front. “You are a goddess cut from the rarest cloth. A beauty brighter than light itself, mia stellina. Sometimes I wonder if I should lock you in a little cage. That way you’d shine for me. Just me.”

Laughter squeezes through your teeth. “You’re being more dramatic than I am tonight.”

“You think so? I’m only telling you what I see and how I see it.” Azul takes your hand and guides you back towards the loveseat. He lowers onto it and then tugs you onto his lap. Just like before, he directs your attention ahead. “Why should I covet others when you’re right here?”

“That’s just convenient. It’s because we’re using each other.”

“How cold… And I have been nothing but authentic in my adoration.”

“Yeah, right. We both know—” You squeak when he shifts you only slightly so that he can unbuckle his leather belt. It slides away from his waist, soon discarded on the bed. “Sure, it’s authentic, but that’s because it has to be. B-Because it’s part of our deal.”

“Is that what you think? Your oblivious nature is most endearing.” He hums, half-listening. You roll your eyes at that, to which Azul tuts. “We’ll have none of that. Here. Since you’re so keen to argue, why not help me out of my jacket as you mull over your next retort?”

Unamused, you turn to face him. He looks awfully pleased with himself as he stretches his arms out. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you undo the single button and gently peel the coat away from his person. It’s so silky, crafted from a material you’ve never known before, and you take care folding it for later. Azul watches you with a smile.

“I’m not arguing.”

“Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

“I’m just saying…” You huff, your cheeks puffed out in annoyance. “Ugh. You’re being so obtuse.”

“Why don’t you turn around and say that to your reflection instead? She needs to hear it more than I do.”

Begrudgingly, you comply with the first instruction. You lift yourself off of him just enough so that he can pull himself from his clothes. As for that second part, you treat it like a suggestion and keep your lips clamped stubbornly shut. Azul rumbles with laughter, affectionately pinching your cheek. You think he may have picked the habit up from his family. He’s spoken about them scarcely, but from what you’ve learned both his mother and grandmother have always had a knack for physical fondness. It’s cute that this gesture seems to run in his blood.

“Eyes open and ahead, mia bella ragazza. You deserve to witness just how charming you are as you come undone around my cock.”

Nodding mutely, your arousal heady, you line yourself up until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. One hand holds your waist to steady you while the other presses against your clit. You whine, legs trembling in anticipation, and lower yourself slowly.

“A-Azul—”

“Don’t look anywhere else. Ahead, tesoro,” he reminds you, kissing along your jaw. He reaches to procure his glasses from the bed, fitting them on his face one-handed.

Your body responds to those pleasant pet names without a shred of shame. Even though this isn’t your first time with him, you can’t stop your breath from hitching or your heart from skipping. For the sake of an easily ingested excuse, you deign to blame it on your upcoming heat. Why else would you be this desperate to feel him inside, as close as he can possibly get pressed up against you like this? Azul’s hand slides over your thigh to rub at your clit, and your walls flutter around every inch you’ve managed to take thus far.

You remember you’re meant to be watching yourself in the mirror then, so you gaze at your reflection. Azul’s voice is deep and gravelly in your ear, thrumming like thunder, when he murmurs his praise: “Good girl. Just like that.”

As if to further humiliate you, a testament to just how carnally you crave him, you clench tighter around him and whine pitifully. He chuckles and rewards you with a soothing smooch to your cheek. You heave a satisfied sigh once he’s slotted inside.

“Why do you want me to watch myself?” you ask, fighting through the haze while he busies himself with your clit. “Mmh…” 

At this rate, you fear you might just somersault into your heat. Which, now that you’re considering it, wouldn’t be such a bad thing… Maybe he’ll give you a claiming bite, mark you as his omega, and then it’ll be a real relationship. Maybe the heat is the push he needs.

Don’t think about that sort of nonsense. He would never…

“I want you to take in every part of yourself,” he explains matter-of-factly, “and know that I will never trade you for anything.”

“But other omegas—” The words are choked off in a yelp when he thrusts up inside you. 

“Are not you,” he finishes, a minacious edge in his tone. “What must I do to prove to you that I’m telling the truth?”

“You could—ah. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m being unreasonable.” You shake your head. “Just… Just promise me. Please promise you won’t get rid of me.”

“Why, I would never! The mere assumption that I would stings… I feel as if I’ve just been slapped.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just… I… I know you’re allowed to see other people—and I am, too, of course—but I like being the only omega you spoil. I like feeling special.”

“And you are.” He squeezes your clit to draw another reedy moan from you. His other hand crawls up your side to slip under your sheer babydoll. He cradles your breast, kneading it gently. “You’re my special girl. That will never change.”

“O-Okay… I believe you.” Your lashes flutter when his fingers brush against your nipple. “You… Ooh… You can cum inside tonight. It’s safe. I think…”

A shadow passes over his face. As if your words have stoked some sort of possessive fire in him, he slips his hand out from under your lingerie to grab at your hip. All of his previous smooth, sultry edges harden into something rough. Fingernails dig into your flesh, leaving little half-moons in the forceful wake of his grip. Your tongue trips over itself at the sudden shift, but the treatment isn’t terrible.

“You know very well I’d take good care of you if that happened,” he mumbles, kissing the space just below your ear.

“If what happened?” you ask, playing stupidly innocent even though the image reflected back at you makes his implication more than obvious.

“Why don’t you start moving first? Then you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

You shudder, drunk off his pheromones, so potent they cloud your brain like smog, and shift in his lap. He groans lowly at the friction and it encourages you to move with confidence. You lower yourself, lift yourself halfway off, and then lower again. This is executed for three more jerky rotations before you slam yourself down in one go. Azul sucks in a breath. You don’t quite catch what he says. It’s a jumble of words in his native tongue. With the harshness dripping from every syllable, you think he’s saying some colorful words, each one brought on by the tight hold your pussy has on his cock.

“Perfect,” he manages next. You continue to bounce with reckless abandon. “You’re so—oh—so perfect. Ho bisogno di te… B-Bisogno—ah, no, need.”

You watch yourself, your ravenous gaze flicking from your pussy stretched around his cock to his hands glued to your hips to his head bowed near your neck. His canines are so close. Any closer and he could tear into you, bite you hard and deep enough to make you his.

“W-What was that phrase you taught me? The one about—haa—love… Not love, but sorta love.”

“Mmh… Which one? There are many, principessa… You’ll have to be more specific. Ti amo is ‘I love you,’ but that’s—nngh—not the one you’re looking for, is it?”

“The not-quite-love one… Um—oh! Adore… Adoro…”

“Aah, ti adoro.” He pronounces it in a pleased hum before breaking off with another groan. He drags your hips down to meet his when he bucks up into your gummy pussy. “If you’re saying it platonically, you would use ti voglio bene. Ti adoro is more intimate.”

“It sounds pretty when you say it.”

“Of course it does,” he brags, his ego satiated. “Why don’t you try pronouncing it?”

“Which one?”

“Whichever.” Azul kisses your scent glands and you mewl, your thoughts soupy and incoherent. “With such a tempting smell, I’m baffled you’re not yet mated. Ah, but you’re still young.”

“Hmm… Yeah, I just haven’t found the right person.” You place your hands over his. “W-What about you? Why haven’t you—”

He tuts. “Now, now. Before we get into that, I’d like to hear you say it. Ti…”

“Adoro. Ti adoro!”

“That’s right. Ben fatto, mia cara. You say it so sweetly.”

“I do?”

“Mhm.” He noses at your neck and sighs. “Sweet and musical.”

Relishing in the compliment, you tilt your head to reveal more of your throat. You roll your hips slowly, taking him in patient strokes. “I still think it sounds better coming from you.”

“Perhaps I should say it more often.”

“Please. Oh, please do. I wanna hear it always—every day!”

His teeth scrape your skin then. You brace yourself for a bite that never comes. Rather than allow your unmet expectations to dishearten you, you focus your attention ahead.

“I’ll send you a voice message when we’re apart.” His hands travel up your body, beneath lacy lingerie, and finally close around your tits. You watch him in the mirror, following his movements as he shamelessly fondles and gropes. “And when we’re together like this I’ll say it over and over. As many times as you’d like.”

Now it’s clear. He’s placed you on his own pedestal, admiring you like one might a sculpture. You aren’t the omega from dinner. You aren’t those alphas who hunger for his status. You’re unlike any of his other connections. You’re a personal treat he indulges in, a prized portrait he’s free to touch at his own discretion, and you allow it because he’s unofficially yours behind closed doors.

Part of you knew this all along. You just couldn’t see through your self-doubt.

“Thank you. I love—” You catch yourself, stumble over a gasp, and thank the stars for that. “I love your voice.”

Azul’s aged features soften with a smile. “And I love yours all the same. Why don’t you touch yourself so that I can hear more of it?”

You do just that, obediently circling your clit with two fingers. Amidst your own sounds, Azul’s groans, and the loud smack of skin on skin, it’s enough to bring you even closer to the edge. You’re almost there, nearly teetering over into the abyss, but then you stop.

“Wait… I want—wanna look at you.”

“You are. The mirror—”

“Not enough.”

Wordlessly, you peel his hands away and lift yourself off of him. Azul stares at you, awaiting your next move. Before you can regret your spontaneity, you hold onto his shoulders and position yourself to straddle him on the loveseat. 

“I read about this and wanted to try it,” you admit as you sink down. Your relieved sigh joins Azul’s in unison. “I like looking at you. The real you. Not just your reflection.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

With this proximity, you’re free to gaze into his powdery blues, trace every wrinkle beneath your fingers, adore him so intimately. Azul presses his forehead to yours, meeting your sultry stare. He wraps his arms around your waist, his palms settling against your lower back. No words are exchanged, but the intention is clear. You rock your body like the rolling tide, effortless and hypnotic, and he matches your lazy pace with grace. Now you’re breathing together—soft huffs between moans—and it’s a lustful duet that pairs well with the salacious squelch of your bodies.

Even though this moment will inevitably end, you never want to leave. You want to stay wrapped up with him, pressed close and breathing him in like he’s perfume. You want to bathe in his scent until it mixes with yours and marks you as something special. Something irrefutable. A bond that can never be broken.

“I wanna go on a trip,” you mumble absentmindedly, your mouth inches from his.

He steals a quick peck. “Do elaborate.”

“Not just any trip. A honeymoon—like a pretend honeymoon! I know it’s a lot to ask—”

“Nothing is ever too much. If I may, why a honeymoon in particular?”

“I just wanna know what it feels like.” You melt against him, your arms sliding away from his shoulders to loop around his neck. “Without having to go through the marriage part. That involves actually finding someone and falling in love and…yeah.”

“I understand. We can plan something.” Twin sapphires flick from your lips to your eyes and then back. “Shall I make you Signora Ashengrotto for the duration of our faux honeymoon?”

Your hips almost stutter to a halt, and you blink back at him in surprise. “Signora… Wouldn’t it be signorina?”

“If you were unmarried, yes. It applies because you’re young.” He flashes his teeth at you in a proud grin. “But in this scenario you’re all mine, Mrs. Ashengrotto. Thus, you’re signora.”

“Mmh… I like that. The sound of it…”

You sigh dreamily and close what little distance is left. Softly like swaying seagrass, it’s a meeting of mutual moods—of lust embellished with love. The two of you kiss like you’re starved, like you’re each other’s only source of oxygen, like this is your last night together. You’re in the clouds; euphoria is at your fingertips. Every drag of his cock coaxes you closer and closer to your climax, your body alight with a fiery urge. You don’t want to break this sinful spell and face a reality in which he isn’t yours. It’s too cruel.

So it’s a shame when he pulls you down without warning and, rather than bite your neck, sinks his pointed canines into your shoulder instead. You would’ve been content to let him claim you, but that idea is soon knocked from your skull when you feel warm, thick cum flood your walls. You snuff the urge to beg for more, dangerously avaricious. You’re sure that’s just a product of your encroaching heat. The normal, level-headed you wouldn’t dare beg him for a baby. 

But a baby would give him a reason to keep you around, wouldn’t it?

I shouldn’t. He probably doesn’t want a family at his age… It would be wrong to force it.

Azul pulls away only slightly to speak. His attempt is muffled when you kiss him again. You lick your blood from his lower lip. It’s strong and metallic, staining the corner of his mouth a deep vermillion. He pursues, nibbling at your lip in return. And then, just as you roll your hips once more, you feel it—his knot swelling against your ass, fat and thick. All for you.

“I’m going to—”

“Yes! Oh, please—yes.” You shift in his lap, grinding down with a desperate sort of determination. “Please knot me. I want it. I’ve always wanted it.”

“Always?”

Your head bobs in a hasty nod. It was more of a private fantasy—a mental indulgence you delighted in during dreams. And now it’s happening. You’re so happy you could cry. Azul, upon seeing the light in your eyes, bucks up towards you in a sharp, sudden thrust. You suck in a breath through grit teeth and bore down. The push is heavenly and hellish all at once, a delicious pleasure-pained strain as your slick walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Almost… You’re doing well, tesoro,” he grunts, his brows pinched together with concentration and exertion.

To provide you with an extra shred of help, he massages your clit. And that’s all it takes. The rest of his knot pops inside, now connecting the both of you, and it leaves you feeling much fuller than you were before. Ecstasy crashes into you like a tumultuous wave, pulling you into a rushing current. It seems to happen in a flash. Collapsing against him, you dig your nails into his shoulders, your cunt clenching like a vise, and cum around his cock with a bawdy cry.

You don’t notice tears wetting your face until he’s lapping at the trickling trails. Azul coos at you in a lilting voice. This one is different from the patronizing tone he uses when he’s being playful. This one is intensely fond. “Oh, che brava ragazza. Molto buono.” He holds your face still and kisses each cheek. The wet smack of his lips on your skin brings you back to yourself. He brightens when you finally lock eyes with him. “There she is. My sweet girl, you’ve done so well.”

His flowery flattery warms the stone hearth that is your heart.

“Don’t let go of me. Stay here,” you plead even though you know that won’t be for another few minutes. You’re stuck together, and with this comes the delirium of mellowed rapture.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He runs his hand along your back, soothed in the same way you currently are.

You rest your head against his shoulder and inhale deeply. “You smell so good… Why aren’t you mated yet? I’m sure your mate would be happy to have you as their own.”

“I would hope so.”

“I’d be happy…t-to have someone to call my own! I think it’s a wonderful thing.”

“As do I.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“I already have.” Something sly flickers in his gaze. It’s cold, creeping up your spine like a shadow. Without meaning to, you shiver. “And I’m not going to let her go. She’s always been mine. From the moment I met her, I was certain of this. She just can’t see it yet.”

You blink at him. His words play in loops, but you can’t comprehend his meaning.

Surely he’s not talking about…

You bark out a short laugh. “Stop messing around when we’re stuck together.”

“Aw. I thought it was plenty amusing.”

“Your sense of humor is so crooked!”

“Perhaps.” He pulls you flush against him and pets the bite on your shoulder. “My apologies for being so boorish.”

“Hm? Oh, that’s nothing. It’ll heal.”

“I do hope you feel better.”

“Ah, that… Sorry. I don’t know where my head was at earlier. Thanks for tonight, by the way. You’re too good to me.”

“I’d do anything for you. Never forget that.”

“What a scary sentiment…”

“Is that not a facet of love?”

“Depends. You don’t have to do everything for someone just to prove that you love them. And someone might not want that kind of love…”

“In the event of an unwilling spirit, I suppose the easiest solution is acceptance by way of entrapment.”

“What?”

“They say a room of glittering gold is still a cage even without the shackles. Perhaps there is no better love than the suffocating kind.”

“No way. That’s totally wrong!” You shake your head in amusement. “What a warped sort of love!”

“Is it? I’ve always believed this was most tangible—undeniable, even. Proof of one’s devotion.”

“That’s less romantic and more…obsessive. Don’t you think so?”

“There’s a phrase we sometimes say. Amore non è senza amaro.” You nod along, expecting the translation. But Azul merely smiles. “Well, I’m only saying such things to pass the time. Think nothing of it.”

“You really are an old man, speaking utter nonsense.”

“How you wound me with your slander!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Nonno,” you tease, winking.

Azul feigns hurt. “To think I would be called that at my young, young age… My heart crumbles.”

You smile. Maybe it really was nothing. Although I was sure that he… It’s not really my problem. We’re not even together.

Still, something is nagging at you. A heavy word despite being so little—merely three letters.

Yet.

We’re not even together yet.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

And yet, something tells you it’s not.

[caturnmoon]

Astrology Observations #2️⃣

⚠️POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS!! ED’s, Poverty, Abuse, Death⚠️

☢️Saturn in the 2nd house can highlight a scarcity mindset towards money, and values. Low self esteem is possible here, and so is the potential to experience poverty at some point in life. Dramatic financial losses. Also since Saturn rules restrictions and the second house is ruled by the throat and mouth, this can indicate a history with eating disorders. I myself have this placement and have a history with Annorexia.

☢️This placement can also get better with time and wisdom, as Saturn highlights naturally. With hard work and re-alignment of values (2nd house) this placement can indicate wealth, success, and a strong moral compass. Someone who know how to handle money quite efficiently.

☢️Lilith in the 2nd house can indicate sex work, and also unorthodox means of earning money in general. (Think Pablo Escobar)

☢️Neptune in the 1st house can indicate someone who can struggle with body dysmorphia. I personally have this placement and I can confirm that I struggle with seeing myself in the mirror like others do. Neptune rules illusions and in this case this affects the physical appearance and how you view yourself (1st house). Folks with this placement can also deal with a lot of projections from others onto them. People see them how they want to see them.

☢️Uranus in the 8th house can indicate sudden gains and losses as well. Either inheritance due to loss of someone or through handling the finances of another, like a partner. This can also indicate sudden abrupt deaths too.

☢️Cancer Mars isn’t necessarily the blubbering cry babies most people I see claim they are and I get really tired of it. Lol most professional athletes have heavy cancerian influence in their charts (Michael Jordan for example) and also in mars. Cancer mars is also fiercely protective of those the love and isn’t one to fuck with in a crisis. The crab is defensive and withdraws from threats cautiously and strategically when needed. Emotions aside. This placement indicates a survivalist who thrives in times of crisis.

☢️Whatever house you have your Pluto in is more personal to you than the sign, and can highlight where you experience the most transformation in your life.

☢️Honestly I personally look to houses more in general when looking for activity that’s unique to a persons actual life rather than the sign. Not that the signs don’t matter-they do-but I feel there’s waaaayyyyyy too much emphasis on signs at times in social media.

☢️Stelliums in signs can be significant and also in houses too. It can highlight an area of life ruled by either the sign or house that will be a major area of focus for you in this lifetime.

Until next time! 👽🖖🏼

[lunarjimin]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Jeon Jungkook

Synopsis - After a long day at work, you come home, still feeling sick and in need of rest. Luckily, your boyfriend knows exactly how to take care of you.

Pairing - boyfriend!jungkook x female reader

Genre - established relationship, unhealthy amount of fluff, very little angst if you squint.

Tags - slice of life, mentions of low-self esteem issues and insecurities, subtle hints of self-loathing, soft!koo hours, oc and jungkook are too altruistic for anyone's liking (but we all love a compassionate couple), jungkook offers oc so much reassurance that it's sickening, mentions of low-key making out, overall oc and jk are full on domestic and adorable.

Word Count - 4.5k

Ratings - PG-13

It's finally the weekend and you huff a big sigh of relief as you unlock the door to your shared apartment with Jungkook, eager to unwind from all the stress work has put you through throughout the week, you head straight to the kitchen to grab some snacks as you are starving.

Typically, your ideal weekend would involve a movie night with Jungkook, but that’s the last thing on your mind since you've been sick for the past few days, leaving you with little to no energy for getting out of bed and facing the day.

Lately, things have been quite stressful for you—not just because you’re sick, but also due to the overwhelming and unpleasant environment at work.

You recall the time your manager belittled you for working at a slower pace on an upcoming project your team was handling. It felt utterly ridiculous because you were putting in your work, even while being sick and getting ridiculed despite your best effort left you feeling irked and resentful of the workplace culture.

This is why you absolutely hate, even despise, the corporate industry: it’s the same everywhere, regardless of your niche. The toxic work culture, the myth of the nine-to-five working hours when you're expected to stay back until half past seven and the fake smiles that mask subtle criticism from coworkers—none of this fools you. Unfortunately, this is the only way to survive in this profession.

You only need to hustle a few more years to achieve some financial stability, after which you can quit your job and invest in the stock market or maybe even start a business of your own. Although the said “few more years” feels like forever, you have no other practical alternative if not for this.

You're a patient person; you credit yourself for that. You might not be as patient as you should be when you travel by conveyance that gets stalled, but you're patient enough to wait a few more years to get stable and resign from your job, huffing out a breath and pushing these thoughts aside as you head to the living room, turning on the television and picking up the show where you last paused.

Settling onto the couch, you exhale, feeling every bit of energy visibly draining away from you, you’re not really proud to admit that you have such a weak immune system even a relatively small flu can leave you feeling completely wiped out (like a mess).

You try to shake your mind off it by focusing on the show you started, reminding yourself that it’s futile to dwell on things you have no control over, especially since there’s nothing that can be done.

As you’re getting cozy on the couch, you hear the soft creak of your front door opening and you don’t really need to look to know who it is.

It's Jungkook, who enters your shared space, removing his shoes and socks, glancing at you from the doorway.He flashes you his typical eye-crinkle smile, which you faintly mirror, while he takes off his coat and hangs it on the nearest rack, you look at him for a moment longer before shifting your attention back to the show."

How was your day?" Jungkook asks, stepping forward and moving to stand right behind you. Gently placing his hand on your forehead, checking your temperature to see if you’re feeling any better than you did before, caught off guard by his random gesture, you turn to see him gazing at you with a raised brow, clearly waiting for your response.

“Just the usual—a bit hectic here and there, but on the whole, it was alright I guess.”, you answer with a slight shrug before focusing back on the television.

Humming in response, he notices that your temperature still hasn't dropped down, taking a mental note to prepare you a hot bowl of soup later.

Joining you on the couch, he turns to watch the show you’re occupied with. As you both get snuggly, you instinctively shift closer, resting your head gently on his shoulder.

Jungkook stretches his arm out, giving you more space to get comfortable prompting you to settle against him.Your body feels so calm and relaxed around him, melting in his touch. Oh, how much you could get used to this every day. Everything feels so peaceful and you wish you could stay like this forever, but as the moment stretches, you notice him settling in a bit too comfortably.

"Not going to shower?", the question slips out on impulse, watching him get cozy on the couch. It's not that you mind; matter of fact, you’d love it if he chose to stay with you right after a weary day at work. Still, you think he might need a proper shower to feel renewed.

"Not yet. I just don't feel like taking one right now—maybe later, if you don't mind?" he probes, pulling you into his arms even further so you're almost half-lying down on the couch.

Of course, you wouldn’t mind and you’re certain Jungkook knows that too. You were just a bit concerned since Jungkook is the type who never skips a shower, whether it's after a workout or even just after doing the dishes. He always protests, saying he feels unclean as soon as he finishes any chore.

You just asked out of intrigue.

“Of course I don't mind, Kook. It's just that I'm not used to seeing you rest right after coming home from work, since you usually head straight to the shower,” you state plainly.

“That’s right,” he mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your nape as he continues, “I usually wouldn’t, but I just feel like cuddling with you right now.”

“Well, come to think of it, I don’t think I’m too opposed to the suggestion,” you say, pondering on it while feeling a tickle as he nuzzles deeper into your neck and rests there.

Jungkook looks up at you from where he’s lying and as you lock eyes, you both burst into a fit of laughter, finding the whole scenario amusing.

It feels peaceful like this—just another day with your boyfriend, in your shared space, being all domestic and silly.

Eventually, silence falls over as you both laze in each other's arms, with the only sound in the background being the show running on the television and you find that you’re not really focused on the show anymore; all you can think about is how at ease you feel being curled up next to Jungkook, noticing that he has grown muscles over the week; you can tell by how bulked up his arms feel as they're wrapped around you.

One thing you're more than sure of is that Jungkook is a fitness freak and has always been one. He injects (figuratively) any fancy sport implements he comes across and is always best at what he does.

You don't envy him, although you wish you could be as dedicated to working out as he is, never missing out a single day, but you’re not quite there yet. You only manage to work out on days when you’re not too tired or worn out, which usually falls on weekends.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you feel Jungkook carefully remove his arm from your back, trying not to disturb you, as he gets up and heads to the bedroom. You figure he might have finally decided to take a shower.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧

You’re close to dozing off when Jungkook comes back into the living room after a while, dressed in a black oversized tee matched with gray sweats. He looks pretty with his damp hair, water collecting at the ends, threatening to drip.

Lounging on the couch beside you, Jungkook sighs, you guess he must be tired as well. “Are you tired?” you question, noticing the heaviness in his eyes as he leans back.

“Kind of,” he waves off dismissively. At times like this, you wish he weren't so guarded, Jungkook has always been like this, prioritizing his close ones over his happiness and willing to sacrifice his comfort just to please those closest to him.

His compassion often borders on altruism, leading him to put others before himself—a trait well-known to those who know him well (you).

You find this really ironic, particularly coming from you, who parallels Jungkook in certain attributes (altruism being one of them).

All of a sudden, you sense Jungkook sneaking his arm around your side, pulling you in by your waist as his scent hits you—a strong musk with a subtle hint of cinnamon, the fragrance of his cologne, your favorite. You think that you might actually combust this way.

You feel a deep sense of contentment. No matter how chaotic your life can be, Jungkook makes you feel better and helps you keep grounded at the end of the day. This is your home. He's your home and without him, you think that this place would just make for a house, you certainly don't mind lying in his arms, sprawled down with no care, even wishing you could stay like this forever if it meant feeling at home with him.

Maybe it's the intense emotions built up throughout the week taking over you, or perhaps it's the mood swings making you unpredictable, or maybe it's the exhaustion lingering; whatever the feeling is, it feels strangely soothing.

Something about laying in the arms of your lover after a grueling week feels so intimate it's unexplainable. You like it though, making you feel all dizzy.

As you gradually feel exhaustion setting in, you're suddenly jolted by a cough rippling at the back of your throat. Fuck, can’t you just relax in peace? It seems like luck is not on your side right when you try to get cozy with your boyfriend. Perfect, seems like just what you needed.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asks, his gaze fixed on the side of your face with concern.

You’re unable to answer him as your cough intensifies struggling to clear your throat, you groan out your response, “I’m fine, just the cold taking a toll on me. Don’t worry, Kook,” voice coming out more groggy than intended as you assure him, though you can tell from the look on his face, that it's clear that he isn’t convinced.

“Kook,” you try again, emphasizing his name, trying to make it clear that you really are fine.

Sighing out long he gives up. “Alright but if I hear you cough one more time, we will take a trip to the doctor.”

“You know I hate swallowing pills, right? I’d get a shot injected rather take those pills,” you whine. Fuck this, why can't you be like your healthy self again?

A trip to the doctor is the last thing you would need right now. You'd rather doze off in your bed with a prolonged flu than swallow the pills you're being prescribed.

You try to calm down, despite still feeling very weak, but that's alright; all you want to do is rest and take it easy and your peace is abruptly stripped away by yet another coughing fit, leaving you struggling to contain it in.

You really don’t want Jungkook worrying over something as trivial as this mild fever, as a result, your eyes start watering the more you try to suppress it and you don't think you can hold it in any longer. Coughing more intensely, you jerk your whole body forward, feeling more frail than ever.

Jungkook looks at your side with an expression which morphs concern as your cough continues, clearly worried about your condition.

This was supposed to be a perfect date night with your boyfriend, but unfortunately, you caught the flu and your body couldn't handle it well and the last thing you would want is for your boyfriend to pity you. Great, it just happens to be your misfortune, isn’t it? Things always turn into mishaps right when you think you're in a better place in life and you hate it.

Warm tears trail down your cheeks before you know it, overwhelmed by the emotions you’ve bottled up all week, breaking down in front of your boyfriend feels downright humiliating. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go—everything should have gone well, but somehow, it all took a turn for the worse.

You're unable to stop the full-blown breakdown as you're now sniffling in the middle of the hiccups. It's embarrassing to say the least.

“Hey, look at me,” Jungkook shakes your shoulders to get your attention, but his words go unheard.

“Baby, look at me, please,” he tries again by placing a finger under your chin and lifting it up to make you face him.

As soon as you meet his gaze, you start breaking down, wailing aloud. Why does everything feel so overwhelming?What was supposed to be a relaxing date night has now turned into a disaster.

You're unable to stop from crying when Jungkook pulls you into his embrace as you bury your face in his chest, soaking his fabric with your tears. You can't help it, but he doesn't seem to mind, gently drawing circles on your back, trying to comfort you.

Gradually, you try to calm down as your sobs ease and you gather yourself sniffling in his shirt.

"Are you feeling any better?" Jungkook looks down at you with genuine worry.

Not really having the energy to speak, you quietly hum in response, letting him know that the breakdown left you feeling a bit better.

“Alright, just wait for me here. I'll be right back, okay?” Jungkook says, looking at you, waiting for a response.

“M'kay,” you nod meekly, watching him get up, turn off the barely-watched show and make his way to the kitchen.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧

Jungkook returns after a while with a ladle and a bowl of soup, along with a plate full of air-fried breadsticks, setting them on the living room counter.

Plopping down on the couch, he looks at you, gesturing toward the table near you, “Have some. You’ll feel a lot better,” he mutters, grabbing a breadstick from the plate, and dipping it into the mustard sauce before taking on a bite.

Your gaze softens as you look at him. At moments like this, you feel deeply loved, as if you receive more than you give. Jungkook makes you feel cherished, filling your senses with warmth.

Although, you feel guilty knowing you're making him care for you, even when he's already feeling drained, you're still thankful for him, you realize you're not so different from him. He always puts others' needs before his own, just like you do. Jungkook has always been a big empath, and so have you; maybe that's why you two got emotionally connected—sharing similar interests and values.

You try your best not to burden him with what you see as trivial concerns, but you forget that those who care about you are always willing to help.

You tend to overlook the fact that you are not merely an obligation to your loved ones but instead a priority.

Taking the bowl of soup from the table, you start eating, smiling to yourself because he made your favorite—French onion; you're thankful to have found a man who gives you more than you ever asked for—it feels surreal, but you're not complaining.

Glancing his way, noticing him staring right back at you as you bring the ladle to your mouth, slurping the soup in an obnoxiously loud manner while keeping your eyes locked on his.

Jungkook is the first to look away, bursting into laughter as he finds your actions comical, seeing you mirror his laugh.

You look his way again and speak up, “You want some?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, shaking his head.

“You know that I love you, right?” you question all of a sudden, not really expecting an answer.

“I really do,” you affirm, needing to get it off your chest.You've always been this way—confessing at random times, during random occasions, with words of affirmation as your dominant love language.

“I know and I love you too, you're too precious not to be loved,” he says, smiling cheekily right after confessing.

It warms your heart to know that Jungkook is always there to offer reassurance, whether in subtle or obvious ways. Although you take pride in not seeking external validation, when it comes to Jungkook, even the slightest compliment makes you dizzy and you can’t help but blame him for it.

Shaking your head, smiling to yourself as you dig in with the soup. “You know, I don’t always say this, but I’m really grateful to have you as my partner.”

It's not that you don't express your gratitude for having him as your boyfriend at all, but you don’t say it as often as you think you should. You know that Jungkook needs to hear how thankful you are to have him in your life, just as much as he reassures you whenever you need it the most.

Junkook smiles, his eyes crinkling with sincerity. Humming, he replies, “You know what? I could probably say the same about you.”

You look sharp at him, puzzled as you question, “Probably?”

“Mhm, yeah, probably,” he shrugs as he says, with a hint of mischief.

Carefully reaching your hand down on the couch, fishing and grabbing the nearest object—a heart-shaped cushion—and you aim it right at his face, but he's quick, catching it with a laugh and placing the pillow back down.

Scratching at the back of his nape he laughs at you as he speaks up, “How are you feeling now? Better than before, I hope?”

You can tell that he sounds a bit anxious, unsure if you're really feeling better, you sigh, “A lot better, actually, thanks to you and your bowl of soup,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at him while offering a fake smile.

He chuckles, clearly amused. “I'm seriously asking you, babe. I just hope you're truly more at ease now.”

“What do you think, Kook? Of course, I am. Nothing can happen to me as long as my boyfriend has my back,” you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

He shakes his head, amazed at how quickly you’ve bounced back to your usual self and visibly feels a sense of relief as he lets his shoulders relax. “And now my favourite brat is back,” he states.

“Jungkook!” you scoff as you exclaim, clearly knowing that he's trying to get a reaction out of you by calling you a brat, not that you mind.

Finally finishing the bowl of soup as you place it down the counter, you feel there are things you need to get off your chest—thoughts that have been weighing on you as you try to speak up, “I’m sorry for spoiling your weekend with all this. I know it should have gone as planned, but I’m really so—”

You’re cut off mid-sentence when a sauce-dipped breadstick is suddenly shoved into your mouth as you shriek, bringing your hands to your mouth and wiping off the remains while munching on the piece shoved inside.

“Save it. That apology might come in handy when you accidentally slip up and get ridiculed by your moron of a boss.”

Jungkook always gets bitter when it comes to your job. You've told him multiple times how your manager treats you and your coworkers with no regard for professionalism, which makes him have a sour spot for your boss, often calling him names. Although it’s worth a laugh to hear him call your boss a moron, you're grateful he holds back and doesn’t take it any further.

“I don't like it when you invalidate your feelings like that, Y/N and I’m sure you’re aware of that,” he says, searching for your eyes.

“Yes, our weekend didn’t go as planned, but we’re still able to relax and chill as usual. So, I’m not sure why you feel the need to apologize for something you’re not to blame for,” he lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze and shaking his head. It feels disheartening for him that you feel the need to apologize, believing that you have ruined the night for him.

It’s ironic to see someone as upbeat as you think this way, though he’s no stranger to your struggles with low self-esteem. “You know, I really wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“How so?”, your response comes out weaker than you intended, overwhelmed by the way he looks at you.

He looks your way, amused, doubting that he could ever put it into words, so he chooses to show you instead, just how grateful he truly is. “You really wanna know?”, as he probes, inching closer to you.

You simply nod, unable to find the right words to speak.

Jungkook lowers himself to your level and stops right before your lips are about to touch, looking at you with your eyes closed, waiting for him to make a move. he takes it as consent and gently leans in, brushing his lips against yours, testing the waters before diving in, deepening the kiss with such intensity.

You're quick to move your lips as soon as he finds yours. The intensity of the kiss makes you feel as if you're burning up, not in a fleeting or shallow way, but with a deep, longing passion.

Moving your hands to the back of his head, you twirl your fingers in his hair while kissing in sync—his slightly damp hair feels so soft, almost like a newborn’s and you smile at that thought.

Jungkook is quick to slip his tongue into your mouth as you part your lips and gasp in surprise, as he intertwines with yours kissing you more deeply, his hand curls around your waist locking you in, while the other gently caresses the side of your face, brushing aside the strands of hair that have fallen across it.

You're the first to pull away, placing your hands against his chest to keep him still as you gasp for breath.

Letting go reluctantly, his heavy gaze staying on you while he pants for breath and leans in to steals one last kiss—a soft peck—on your parted lips.

You narrow your brows at him, trying to appear stern, which only makes him just return you a sheepish smile.

“You kind of taste like caramelized onions,” Jungkook breaks the silence, teasing you about the kiss.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim as you physically gasp feigning offence, giggling and playfully shoving him by the chest.

He pouts, sulking at you.

“That’s so mean! Of course, I taste like onions—I just had the soup you made!” you say with a hint of annoyance.

He casually shrugs, cocking a brow.

You can’t help but chuckle, realizing how fond you’ve grown of him over the years, being with Jungkook feels instinctive, like something you’ve become so habitual with.

“You know, I was so concerned for you a while ago when you were constantly coughing,” he brings up.

You smile knowingly, seeing him back to his usual self. “Yeah, I knew, your face said it all.”

“Am I that predictable?” Jungkook asks, knitting his eyebrows with a scrunched nose, looking puzzled.

“Hm, you kind of are. It’s hard for you to hide your expressions,” you reply with a knowing look. “But honestly, I felt bad making you work right after you came home tired. It just made me feel guilty.”

“That’s part of my duty as your boyfriend. There’s no need to feel guilty. I’m more than happy to be here for you and you know that very well Y/N,” Jungkook says with a sincere tone. He’s willing to do anything you ask for and more; deep down, he still feels like he hasn’t done enough for you.

Words can't fully express how grateful you are to the universe for bringing someone like Jungkook into your life. He embodies what it means to be a gentleman and you don't think you can picture yourself with anyone else but him. “I know, but sometimes it's really difficult dealing with my self-worth issues,” you tell him honestly.

“That's exactly why I think you should see yourself through my eyes,” he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at you gently. “You’re everything I could ever want and more, I hope you know that,” he says sincerely as your smile comes off weak.

“It’s hard for me to believe that someone would want me with as much passion as you do, especially when you’re much more good-looking”, you try not to break down as your voice cracks and your throat feels tight talking about such a sensitive topic. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Kook, but it takes everything in me not to bring myself down every single time. It’s really hard dealing with all of my insecurities.”

Jungkook feels devastated hearing this. He’s aware of the issues you’re struggling with but never really realized how deeply rooted they must be, which makes him question his role as your partner as his conscience gnaws at him, filled with the fear of failing to be a better partner for you, knowing how you feel. He knows it’s not entirely his fault, but the guilt simmers inside him, threatening to overflow the more he thinks about it, to him, you deserve the world and so much more.

“I surely understand that; while I might not know exactly how you feel, I get the sense of it babe and I want you to know that I’m here for you—no matter what you need, I'll always be right here.” Jungkook places his hands on either side of your face, drawing you close and gently kissing your forehead.

“Let’s just not focus on this right now, alright? I don’t want you to worry about it too much unless you really want to talk about it?” He looks at you with slight distress, unsure of what you’re thinking. Whatever it is, he hopes you’ll share it, reassuring you that he’ll listen attentively, easing the weight of your feelings.

You nod in agreement, suggesting that you don’t want to discuss this any further, especially not now, after everything you’ve been through this week, you smile instinctively, seeing him look concerned and finding an odd sense of comfort in it.

You know Jungkook well, maybe a little too well than anyone else in his life. While you might normally share your concerns with him, you’d rather let it be and take some time to rest now.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate his support, but you’re simply not in the mood to talk about it right now, although his ways of reassurance always feel the best, making you want to listen to him even more.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this kind of sense of belonging with anyone before. It feels like everything has fallen into place just as you’ve always wanted, despite the chaos in your life.

“What’s on your mind?” Jungkook asks, seeing you lost in your thoughts.

You pause for a moment, staring at him unsure what to say as you blink swiftly, taking a deep breath letting out a sigh.

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” you utter, as you stretch and yawn involuntarily, covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Right, I’m tired too. Let’s just cuddle like this for a while, yeah?” Jungkook mumbles as he pulls you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder and gradually closing his eyes.

You smile as you nod, feeling him move closer to your neck and place a gentle kiss as you let your body relax, you feel so safe like this, with his soft breaths calming your nerves. At moments like these, all your worries seem to fade away.

Maybe getting sick doesn’t seem so bad if Jungkook is the one taking care of you. Eventually, it’s only with him that you feel safe and at home, he's your sanctuary at the end of the day.

A/N : It's officially my first fan-fiction? ficlet or drabble? whatever you guys name it! although as much as i'm excited to publish this, i'm equally nervous too and forgive me if there are any errors cause i didn't proofread it. I would really appreciate any feedback or comments about my work, hope you guys had a good read <3 xox.

tmi: this piece of work was purely self-indulgence until it wasn't when I decided to turn it into an actual fiction, even though this basically lacks any plot and the struggle it took for me to figure out how this blog works is a rant for another day (😭).

[gemsofthegalaxy]

I really do love Evan and Sam together as a romantic couple because their whole deals are so very opposite but also so similar.

Sam, she's so charming and charismatic, it makes sense that in the first season she ends up dating this jock and she gets along well with him (although I believe Fergus has some dorkiness to him, too, lol). But it's revealed in the second season her self-esteem is very low and she's now hung up on the idea that it isn't her natural charm and kindness, but the fact that she's been using magic which means everyone is fake. She can't trust people's good opinions of her. It's very "you love me at my Sam Black, at my Sam Britian, but can you handle me at Sam Bulter?" what happens when she's not charming, or accommodating, when she has a bad day. There's also a certain degree with Sam seeing herself as nothing but her charms, she doesn't think she's particularly capable or smart outside of her kindness, which is why it's so amazing that Danielle selected the mind track for her to get better in and Sam insisted she just felt a Connection to the magic of knowledge, rather than charm. It's amazing how charming and kind she is, but she doesn't want that to be all she is.

Evan was always so insecure over being so weird, so it makes sense he ended up with K at first, who is also a certified weirdoTM and he gets sort of insecure about where he stands with Jammer because Jammer starts out just so normal. Evan feels threatened at least a bit by Jammer's friends, thinking he can't fit in with them, and he also says the same thing with Sam to a degree being like "Well I wouldn't want to freak out Ariana Grande" (As Sam points out, Ari is also a freak tho so >_> yknow). But during the adventure, sort of like Danielle, Brennan decided to go with the magnetism/charisma stat to increase because he felt like Evan was starting to truly just accept himself. Take him or leave him, that's Evan Kelmp, he's the haunted white guy and his friends love him and you might love him too if the two of you click but he's not gonna be worrying about that all the time to the point he's sick every day. Still, Evan does struggle about being wanted and he's able to communicate that to Sam, you know, blanket invitations don't work for him but she says no, for real, I would spend day after day with you. I'll cook you food, not just a generic invite, please actually come over. And he's so excited about that, it's adorable. That's an aside, anywayy.

I have liked Evan and Sam together since season 1, I always felt that she cared about him not only in the way she generally cares about people but she just, really clicked with Evan in a way that may seem funny to onlookers because of the aforementioned "pretty, popular girl who gets the jocks, befriending straight up haunted weirdo". But, as I outlined above, they have more insecurity in common because both of them understand why people like them when they're useful/kind/etc but doubt if people will truly love the real them, or them when they're going through tough moments.

And over the course of S2 it was sooo clear that Brennan meant for Evan to be crushing on Sam. He loves her so, so much. He really admires all of his friends and he also thinks the world of Jammer, too, to be fair, but Evan is sincerely endlessly impressed with Sam and everything she does. He acts like she hung the moon in the sky. I truly do think that Evan would be happy just to see her be happy, his love for her is very pure and he'd be okay if it weren't romantic as long as she still wanted him around and cared about their friendship- but I think he's in love with her, and knows that somewhat early in the adventure.

Because Evan is so sincere, thinks Sam is so cool and so good, it gets across that he truly means it. He doesn't just see Sam Britian and care about her fame. That's cool, too, but he would love her no matter what her job is. He truly loves Sam for Sam and she believes him, and loves him back, and even if she could be dating some celebrity (which she could, easily) she chooses to be with Evan instead. And in that choice, Evan knows she loves him for him, too, because why else would she choose that?

i just. love them so much you guys.

[multidimensionalguidance]

Overlay Observations #1

Note: keep in mind that aspects and signs are also very important when reading synastry charts, and it cannot be left aside to prioritize overlays.

Sun in 1st house: this is a tricky overlay for any type of relationships, because it will depend a lot on the strength of the sun in both charts. It can either become the type of relationship where the Sun becomes an excellent guide for the house person to discover their creativity, skills, and core self. They will feel more confident and with an extra shine next to the planet person. As if a disco ball was turned on in a dark room, and there’s a spotlight right on you. The house person will also help the Sun stick to their core principles and feeling comfortable in fully expressing themselves with little judgment. Now, that is the positive expression of this overlay if both individuals are able to avoid the elephant in the room. Yes, the ego. The sour side for the house person is to feel overshadowed when they are next to the planet person, and it can therefore trigger an unnecessary need of competition that could easily ruin the relationship. It is also difficult for both individuals to ignore the triggers that they cause in each other due to the amount of similarities that they share. Their own toxic or unhealthy habits will be noticeable to both, but so will the positive ones as well. It really all boils down to how comfortable both individuals feel within their core self. If either has very low self esteem, it will be harsh to feel at ease with each other. Overall, it can be very helpful and rewarding to encounter each other and see themselves in a mirror for good or bad, especially for the house person since the planet person aspects their 7th house of relationships.

Venus + Mars in 1st house: this one takes the cake for "I saw, I wanted, and I conquered" with the planet person being the one who quite literally charges towards the house person with A LOT of passion to the point that it can be overwhelming if there isn't any other aspect to support it. The planet person recognizes in the other all the qualities that they look for when it comes to relationships and the way they move through life. They both feel extremely physically attracted to each other. Instant magnetism. They are able to see the house person as someone who naturally matches their own sexual energy, and it feels like a no brainer to desire closeness. If Saturn or any other strong aspect/overlay isn't involved in any way, it might be a short hot fling. You will both enjoy the insane chemistry and common ground, and unless Pluto, Rahu, harsh aspects are involved, there shouldn't be much of a hiccup if there's a separation at the end. You will fondly look back to remember how you both felt like an IT couple next to each other, and rekindling the fire would be quite easy if there's a reencounter.

Saturn in 1st house: there is a deep sense of responsibility and seriousness that is quickly developed between these two individuals. They both feel like the relationship is one that they would prefer long term, even if there's a heaviness to it. The planet person brings a grounded energy that encourages the house person to think long term, and they will go to great lengths to please the planet person. Its almost as if the house person wants to earn the respect or admiration of the other, and depending on any other planetary aspects made, it will either be something that will lift the house planets to higher highs or will make them feel overwhelmed with the pressure. Think of it as the pressure necessary to build diamonds, meaning, a necessary discomfort to achieve greatness. There's also a very karmic tie between these two individuals, and they will recognize it. The house person will feel like the other was brough into their lives for a reason, be it good or bad. As if they attracted this person due to their previous actions in a current or past life.

Ketu in 1st house: this is the most common "I've met you before" aspect in synastry. There is a strong feeling of comfort and ease between these two individuals, and the house person will feel a breeze from the past with the planet person. This truly goes both ways, and they both recognize it as well. It can also feel like a soulmate connection and one of the two will comfortably claim it so in their mind and heart. Even if Ketu is commonly perceived as a malefic in Vedic astrology, it is also the key to unlock a higher spiritual awareness, and this is exactly what this overlay causes. So, if both individuals are not actively pursuing to expanding their spiritual side, it will gradually create separation. Ketu brings a cleansing or purifying effect that almost feels like a burning sensation when its met with resistance. Hence why this synastry overlay or even with aspects can feel so debilitating for the planet person particularly. There cannot be a spiritual resistance from either side, and growth must be consistently practiced. Meditating together, learning occult knowledge, or even doing yoga will naturally enhance the relationship and it will be much easier to manage. It will also be more comfortable for individuals who already have Ketu touching personal planets or in the 1st house, also for those that have Scorpio placements in their natal chart.

Juno in 1st house: this is the "You are wife/husband material!" synastry overlay. They both feel like the other person has the qualities that they look for in a serious committed relationship. The asteroid person will simply feel like house person matches a lot of the pointers they have for what they would like in a marriage partner. On the other hand, the house person feels like they can hear wedding bells ringing from afar whenever they interact with the other. It is generally a pleasing overlay and both individuals are able to have a good common ground on what they expect from a long term relationship.

Venus in 4th house: a definite favorite overlay for romantic or platonic relationships. They are able to break the ice easily with each other during the beginning stages because there is a strong feeling of comfort they experience together. They are the type to spend hours chilling next to each other reading, scrolling through TikTok, or watching movies for hours with no issues (unless there are harsh aspects or malefic planets). The planet person feels at home with the house person, and things like cooking, cleaning, or nurturing each other develops with a lot of ease. The planet person brings material benefits to the house person, so if they move in together, the house person quite literally gets their space improved or it gets beautified in some way. Lots of harmony when it comes to these matters in general. They are the type that redecorate their home together as a hobby. It is also a good overlay for naturally wanting to grow a family and having an ease with it since their values match when it comes to raising children.

Mars in 6th house: this is a very wholesome and motivating overlay. The planet person brings a lot of energy to get things done and actively helps the house person on their daily life. The house person on the other hand, gets activated on their sense of servicing Mars, and it is common for them to also do a lot of little AND big things to make their life easier. I've seen them cooking, cleaning, or even fixing things for the house person frequently, but it generally goes both ways regardless. Acts of service as a love language is seen here. In general, there's a lot of "I want to help you grow and develop" between the two of them. They could even work or do exercises together as well. The only downside is that one of them could be too judgmental or picky with how things get done, and it could make either feel as if their efforts go unnoticed or unappreciated. If the relationship drifts apart, they will miss each other a lot because of how present they were in their day to day. Sort of like, you will think of each other while doing mundane activities like washing the dishes or doing groceries.

Venus in 8th house: as most astrologer enthusiast explain, this is not an overlay or synastry for the weak, at all. There is a strong attachment that is developed whenever the 8th house involved. Both individuals feel like two candles that join together to create a big flame that can warm and destroy with equal strength. The negative side is very clear, a heavy and almost addictive feeling with a heavy dark intense undertone. The house person sees Venus as a princess/prince that somehow appeared in the place they try to hide the most from others, and this immediately creates a desire to get very close. They want to study Venus, understand how they got in there to begin with, and determine whether they want them in there or not. In this case, the house person holds a lot of the control. Venus will not have easy access to the house person unless it is granted. They will keep on creating obstacles to keep the planet person from getting closer until they recognize that there's no way to keep them out unless they literally walk away. The positive side is when the house person surrenders to the feeling of developing an intense and deep connection with the planet person. Once they do, it will feel like they are able to reach depths that they were unable to do so before with anyone else. It is common for both of them to share resources with each other and there is also a strong sense of loyalty that develops after the common challenges (jealousy, possessiveness, mistrust, etc) are worked out. Venus brings wealth and abundance to the house person, either through gifts or by simply attracting that towards them like a magnet. The house person on the other side shares their own resources VERY often, and have no issues with even dipping into their savings just to please Venus.

Jupiter in 10th house: I would call this the "You're my money lucky charm" overlay along with the 2nd house overlay. The planet person brings expansion, growth, and luck to the house person when it comes to their profession and public image. There is a lot of knowledge and guidance that the planet person provides, and that allows the house person to use those pointers to achieve their goals much faster than they would have been able to do so alone. For the planet person, it feels like they are very popular and/or noticeable within the work or public life of the house person. Unlike Venus, who is seen as a trophy wife/husband or as a very obvious romantic partner next to the house person, Jupiter is seen as someone who is like a sage, advisor, or foreigner. Overall, this is a very positive overlay for both to grow towards their material goals. The house person will prefer to spend more time outside with the planet person instead of being at home all the time since it aspects their 4th house. You both want to be seen together being out and about.

Moon in 12th house: this is a very complex interaction between two people, and it will depend a lot on what type of relationship they have (romantic, platonic, familiar, etc). In a general sense, the moon person will experience some confusion when it comes to acknowledging their feelings towards the house person. As if there was a veil that keeps them from taking confident steps forward. It is common for both people to develop a resistance into trusting each other at the beginning, but the other side of the coin is that they can't help but grow closer towards each other. The house person feels seen in every sense of the word, and they can notice how the other seamlessly understands what goes through their head almost as if it was telepathy. Now, even if the planet person is able to navigate somewhat well the subconscious mind of the other, there will be a constant doubt or hesitance. It will be hard for them to even understand why it feels this way, and only through identifying their own subconscious wounds will they will able to recognize the root of their confusion. Once this feeling and pattern is explored, it will feel as if they veil is lifted and they will understand the house person like the back of their hand. This is an aspect that can be rewarding if the planet person is focused on their spiritual growth, as they will gain immense knowledge to their own mind (since the moon rules the subconscious mind as well).

Hope this was an insightful and enjoyable reading~

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: situationship!rafe cameron x afab nerd!reader

cw: angst undertones w/ a hopeful ending, black cat!coded reader x whatever rafe would be, suggestive action in the shower & mentions of off screen nsfw (cum and thigh fucking but the latter is a bit more graphic lol) , class differences, rafe is pathetic and weird, implied drug use, rafe beats a man but you can decide if he killed him, reader has implied mental health issues and low self esteem, ambiguous feelings on rafe’s part (he said ily but he could be lying), dark content themes, rafe calls reader kitty in both a mean way and a pet name way, if the thing with reader’s first crush sounds too real that’s cause it is 🤫, started my period while i was formatting this (i just thought y’all should know)

wc: 1.9k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

consider commissioning me 🫀

“Hey, babe, would you be a good kitty and let me in?” Is what you’re greeted with when you swing open your screen door. Rafe Cameron looks pleased as punch, all things considered, soaking wet due to the pouring rain and no doubt high as a kite.

The slurred speech doesn’t alarm you as much as the river of blood flowing from his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe, what the fuck?” You try to sound harsh but the fuck is noticably softer than your other words and Rafe smiles, more blood drips down his chin.

You look over his shoulder to see his bike on its side in the dirt, it’s raining and you just know he’ll be pissed to see the mus clinging to it tomorrow. But for right now, you have an injured situationship to patch up.

He stumbles as you struggle to yank him aside, and he sways but collapses on your couch. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to lose your shit immediately. The audacity of this man to waltz in on you barely alive and expect some twisted kind of comfort, after everything.

“I was studying you know, textbooks are expensive so don’t start getting your blood on them.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I know.”

Rafe grunts but keeps his body away from your books. That’s the least he can do, the bare minimum. You sigh and walk over him, kneeling in front of the couch. His eyes are dazed and unfocused as you brush the hair away from his forehead, but his fingers twitch.

“Why did you come here, Rafe? To me?” You whisper, tired and unamused.

You’re startled by his harsh cough, his fingers twitch in your direction again, “ ‘Was nowhere else, wanted you.”

Isn’t that good enough?

You blink dumbly at that, but you have no answer for his crazed ramblings so you slap your knees and make your way to the bathroom. You procure a wet washcloth and some measly bandages, he would just have to deal with it. Rafe’s eyes drag towards you when you kneel back in front of him and bring the cloth to his mouth.

You avoid his stare as you sop up the copious amounts of blood, praying that this wouldn’t need a visit to the hospital. In some ways, you’ve seen too much blood since Rafe Cameron decided to make a mockery of your existence. The gaggle of rich girls he used to have on each arm disappeared but he excused it by detailing his plans to lead you on in front of his friends, checking to see if you were in ear shot.

There’s nothing you did, in your mind. You stuck to yourself and somehow invited the attention of some psycho. That’s the hardest part of the situation, you can’t pinpoint a true beginning. You can only remember being in this murky middle, devoid of an ending. Rafe does have a pretty face though, unfortunately, the water from cloth making his skin glisten. You’ll throw the rag out after this, there’s no point trying to get the stain of blood out of anything.

Eventually, you’re done with the first part and have an excuse to turn away from him. You get back on your feet to reach for the bandages but a groan coming from behind stops you. You turn around and freeze when Rafe buries his nose into your lower stomach, barely brushing the top of your mound over your pajama shorts. He hisses through his teeth in pain as he pushes your shirt up with his bloodied knuckles.

“Rafe Cameron, what the hell are you-“

“ ‘Smells good as fuck, love you.”

You refuse to admit that you love him too, you can’t give him that. Okay, now shit’s really getting out of hand. He dips his head to get closer to your pussy but the second you see the tip of his tongue touch your shorts, you direct his face back to your stomach. You’ve never gone further than ‘will they-won’t they’ type touches with Rafe, but you just can’t give in no matter how much you lie awake at night thinking about it.

“All this is because of you, you know that? You fucked me up and made pummel the crap outta that guy.” The vibrations his clumsy words send through you gives you a serious case of the shivers, so you distract yourself by running your fingers through his matted hair. Because of course there’s blood on his head too. You’d usually chalk what he’s saying up to drugs and insanity, but with Rafe you just never know.

“What?”

“He said maybe I should lay off you so he could have a piece instead, and I just…. lost it. Why should some chump get a part of what’s all mine?” He says with a startling amount of clarity, voice flat and low.

You don’t designate him with a response, and truth be told he doesn’t want you too. You stretch for what in actuality is a $3 dollar package of hello kitty bandaids and rip the white coverings off a few of them. He makes god awful sounds as you apply them to his mouth, head, and hands. The mess in his hair probably isn't his but your conscience won't let you leave it alone. Something foreign to your head and your heart won’t let you leave him alone.

You decide to put the knife in your back all on your own and look up into his eyes. They’re too half lidded to get a clear reading on them but you’re afraid to rely on the emotions underneath the surface. You used to be scared that he couldn’t feel anything. Now, the idea of Rafe Cameron believing he’s in love is far more terrifying.

He’s a bit ridiculous with My Melody, Kuromi, and Keroppi all over himself, you can’t help the small smile that comes over you. You quickly flatten it before he can get too pleased with himself but the fingers curled against your tummy spasm as they spread out to caress your skin. Rafe has an unreadable look on his face as he smears blood over your womb, but you think if you step away he’ll lunge at you.

“I can help you wash the blood off in the shower.” Saying that is in no way a promise of commitment or change, but it might be the closest you ever get.

You’re used to scraps, scraps are fine.

And well, for much you pride yourself on being perfectly fine being alone, it’s achingly human to crave being loved more than anything else. You wander aimlessly because you won’t go where you’re not wanted, and for the longest you’ve been wanted nowhere. But here you are, obsessed over by someone who everyone wants.

Maybe you’re sick of trying to make all the right decisions if this is where it gets you, cold and alone. Is it so bad to not care anymore? It couldn’t be worse than when your first crush told you he loved you and then had a baby with your bully, you reason. Or when he dated one of your friends and she would “joke” about marrying you when you were alone.

The short trip to the shower is awkwardly silent, you have to lead Rafe and make sure he doesn’t trip. You stare more than any Twilight character as you help each other strip. You try to avoid the bruises on Rafe’s torso, but he chuckles about how “You should see the other guy, kitty.”

So you don’t back away when he slows the trajectory of your calloused hands and drags them up his body. Your nails are bitten unevenly, some leave scratches on his abs and some don’t. It’s exhilarating to see Rafe Caneron’s thread come undone, to watch as he tilts his head back and sighs. You rest your hands on his pecs and kiss the hollow of his throat before you can stop yourself.

You won’t mention the squeak he tries to stifle with the back of his balled up fist.

You step away from him to be vulnerable in return, his satisfaction is much more evident this time around. He rips your camisole in two and unhooks your bra too well, clearly having had practice. He cups your breasts in his hands with tenderness that you’d think is out of character for him. Rafe doesn’t even honk them in the dude bro way that you’d always assumed he would. No, he… massages the flesh in his palms between slow squeezes.

“Don’t see why you’re so insecure about these, I like them just fine.” He huffs, bending down to motorboat you before pulling you in the shower through his grunts of pain and exertion.

You notice that he doesn’t steal a glance at your pussy, almost like he’s scared of seeing it bare and puffy… and wet.

You like to feel like a boiling lobster in the shower, so you turn the dial the same direction as always. You’re worried that Rafe will hate the sting but when the water hits, he moans with an open mouth, eyes shut tight. Before your next breath, you’re pushed against the wall and now the blood’s in your mouth as you're taken into a french kiss right out the gate.

You go with it against your better judgment, until Rafe pulls away to pant against your collarbone. His next kiss is softer, shy like it’s an unknown thing to the two of you. His lips glide and mesh with yours as the water trails down in between your slick bodies. You feel like you’re going to pass out but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You open your eyes to see the water at the base of the shower run red, and you lose yourself in the swirling motion until the pop of your honey scented shampoo bottle lid snaps you out of it.

“Turn around kitty, ‘said I'd help you scrub down.”

He’d be embarrassed if you said it, but it’s obvious he’s never done this before. He’s like a bull in a china shop gathering you up in a loose bundle and sloppily spreading the soap throughout it. You stay silent, preferring to bask in the absurdity of it all.

Washing Rafe’s hair takes less time, but like he did when you were cleaning him up earlier, he chooses to stare at you the entire time. You scratch his head to really work the shampoo in there and get the dried blood out, he latches onto your wrists and lets his eyes drift shut. He makes it inconvenient to help him when he kisses your jawline, but you allow it.

“Thanks, you’re pretty good with your hands.” Rafe whispers with a wry grin, pecking your mouth and dropping to his knees. Your pomegranate body wash in his uninjured hand. The amount he squirts onto the dollar store loofah on his other hand is a touch too generous.

You have to replace the hello kitty bandaids when the originals fall off after Rafe steps out of the shower minutes later, he insists on it. You make him lean against the bathroom counter and watch as you take a second shower to clean out the cum, he wears a petulant frown the whole time.

You’re bent over that same counter when you’re back in his orbit, teary eyes wide as he fucks your plush thighs.

The rain turns into a thunderstorm outside.