#the sparkle in her eyes!! the adoration!!

[moviecritc]

Thinking about you being Clark’s and Bruce’s sugar baby at the same time…

It starts with the nails. Obviously. Almond-shaped, chrome-dipped, tiny crystals lined at the base because “you deserve a little sparkle,” as Clark put it when he slipped his card into your hand and told you not to check the limit. (There wasn’t one.)

Bruce had already pre-paid the salon, of course he did. He told them to add a massage and a glass of rosé while you waited for your toes to dry. You didn’t even need to ask. Just showed up and said your name, and they treated you like royalty.

Because you are.

“Hi, princess,” Bruce texted the second your appointment ended. “Your stylist left a few things at the penthouse. Try the lavender one first.”

You’d barely stepped through the door when you saw the garment bags lined up like a boutique display. Shoes too: delicate, glittery, designer. There were two new perfume bottles sitting on the vanity and a note in Clark’s handwriting that said, “This one made me think of you. Sweet, soft, and a little dangerous.”

You didn’t lift a finger. Just twirled in the mirror, robe slipping off one shoulder, admiring your nails and your reflection and your very spoiled life.

Then they came home.

Clark kissed you first, scooped you up off the bed like you weighed nothing and spun you around in a way that made you giggle and scold him for messing up your hair. Bruce followed behind, jacket off, sleeves rolled, eyes all heat.

“Look at our girl,” Bruce murmured, pulling you in for a kiss at your temple. “You look like you belong on silk sheets.”

“She belongs in our hands,” Clark added, voice low as he set you down on the bed.

Which brings you here: flat on your back, legs parted, robe bunched around your waist. Clark’s head between your thighs. Bruce beside you, murmuring filth into your ear like it’s a prayer.

“You’re so soft,” Clark says between kisses. “So sweet like this, doll.”

“Our perfect little princess,” Bruce hums. “You like it when we take care of you, don’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Clark’s mouth is too good, his hands firm around your hips. Your fingers curl into the sheets, showing off your glittery nails—Bruce notices, of course.

“Those hands,” he groans, taking one in his own. “Too pretty to ever work. We’ll take care of you, love. Always.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Clark adds, voice muffled but still warm and so, so full of love. “Just lie there and let us spoil you.”

And you do.

Because when you're theirs. Their baby, their sweetheart, their spoiled little princess.

You don’t need to do a damn thing but smile, sigh, and take it.

masterlist a/n ☆ trying a new format, in some way? this idea has been going around my head as someone who adores doing her nails and adores petnames

[skzjiiiii]

Firsts with Felix ⋆˙⟡ —

pairing: felix x reader

genre: fluff, your firsts with Felix, college au, it’s so cute guys trust, slight angst, Felix is so down bad for the reader, kissing, hugs.

note: thank you so much for all the love on wrong chat, right choice!! I've decided to try writing more so I hope you guys like this actual written imagine???

First time meeting ⋆˙⟡ —

Your friend had invited you to go to the book fair back in college. It wasn’t a huge event, just people coming to sell their second hand books and bond over similar interests and tastes. You were browsing the poetry section — that was rather secluded and empty — when you bumped into someone. Both of you hurried to apologize for bumping into each other when you finally took a good look at him. It was as if the world stilled for a bit, letting you look — really look — at him. His eyes sparkled with so much life. His cheeks were adorned with the most beautiful freckles you’ve ever laid eyes upon. His smile went all the way up to his eyes, wrinkling the corner of them just a bit.

“I’m so sorry, I seriously need to look where I’m going.” he apologized again.

“No, no I was the one who had her head stuck in a damn book,” you countered his apology with another one. It seemed that both of you were the perfect pair. You were a bit taken back by how deep his voice was considering how adorable he looked.

“I’m Felix, by the way,” the blonde said, offering his name like a gift. You gave yours in return, and he smiled brighter, if that was even possible. You both exchanged goodbyes after chatting about poetry for a bit and how it should be more popular. You found yourself thinking about him for the rest of the week.

First Hug ⋆˙⟡ —

Finals season weren’t a joke. It hit you like a truck. Deadlines on top of deadlines and tests stacked on top of tests. It seemed as if the world forgot that you needed to breathe. Your days consisted of waking up, studying until the next day, crashing, and repeat.

That night, you were crunched up on your chair trying to figure out how the person in the youtube video managed to solve an equation. You swore that they made up a variable. Your hands gripped your hair like a lifeline, causing it to resemble an amateur bird’s nest.

Felix was lucky enough to witness this sight. You had left your bedroom door open just enough for him to be able to see into the room. He walked in with a cup of tea and your favorite: his home-made brownies. He called your name once, twice, and trice until you managed to look up at him.

“Hey,” he said gently. “I brought reinforcements.” You looked up at him as if he was your saving grace. Your eyes were bloodshot with under eyes so dark it made you resemble a raccoon. He bit down a smile, although you looked like you had been through war and back he still thought you looked adorable.

“Tough day?” he asked with concern masking his eyes.

“Tough month- actually screw that, tough year. I hate this. I hate it here. Why did I even pick this major??” you grumbled.

Your train of thought was cut short when he pulled you into his arms. Your limbs froze up at first but eventually, you melted in his arms. His hoodie smelt like home and his arms felt like the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You don’t hate this, you’re just stressed… and that’s okay. The most important thing is that you’re still here. You showed up. Bad state or not. That’s the girl I know.” he whispered against the crown of your head.

You hated how he could see right through you. But you couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

First Kiss ⋆˙⟡ —

You didn’t think it was going to happen this way although you weren’t exactly sure how it’d happen. It was a late summer in July, when the air was warm and the cicadas singing too loudly. You and Felix were sitting by the lake next to his family’s house. Wind blowing into your hair gently as you ranted to him about how hard it was to find a decent guy these days.

All of your past talking stages and “situationships” only ended in you being hurt. Felix could only sit and listen as you questioned what it would take to find a guy that knew how to respect boundaries and have some form of emotional intelligence. One that wouldn’t treat your heart like it had many lives to live.

He didn’t know if it was the way you bit your cheek out of exasperation or if it was how animated you were when you talked about your feelings. But right then, at that moment, he knew that you were the one.

It didn’t matter to him that you might not have felt the same or if you were way out of his league. He just felt that it was right. Whatever this was between you, friendship or more, he’d want this for the rest of his life.

He also didn’t expect to blurt out the one thing that would change your relationship forever. You were contemplating on what you should do next after college since you only had one semester left.

“And my dad is always asking what I plan to do when even I don’t know what I want in life. It’s complicated… I’m still young. How do people even expect someone—"

“I’m in love with you.” he said, hand not fast enough to cover his mouth. His eyes widened as if he had just processed what he said out loud. The air between you stilled. You looked at him in shock, like he just told you that you had won the lottery.

“What?” you blinked. Once. Twice. Enough to process what he said.

“I said, I’m in love with you… well maybe love is a bit too crazy considering that we’re friends but I wouldn’t say just like because that’s so weird like of course I like you you’re my bestfriend so I just thought—"

You kissed him.

It was messy and sudden—you practically threw yourself onto him— but it didn’t matter. His hand caressed the side of your face when he kissed you back. It was slow and reassuring. It said the things he wasn’t able to say all these years. Your first kiss wasn’t perfect by any means but it was yours.

perm tag list: @maryhyun254 @bemyaehiweloveskz @jeonginslittledoll @pochacco-baby @jj-one @channieschocco @peskybirdysya @afararraaaa @ilovedallywinston @vhskai @asesinas

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Something’s up With the Red Magical Girl

You’ve been saved by many magical girls at this point in your life but rarely were you one of the lucky few that got to see them stick around for their ending poses. The only time the magical girls stood long enough for pictures to be taken is at the end of their victories, posing adoably with their pigtails and sparkling dressed and adorable faces perfect for all of the clapping on-lookers.

You are among them, freshly revived on the cement and a step away from your savior. The crimson magical girl who embodies the straight and narrow morales that keep the public safe from the monsters wrecking havoc everywhere. She is the embodiment of the magical girl– petite with rosy cheeks, long locks of red hair that flow immaculately in the pig tails, and eyes as blue as a clear sky…wait a second.

“Riddle?!?”

The beaming hero’s face falters her painted smile falling and her face slowly becoming as red as the ball gown tutu she fights in. She looks just like the student council president, precise, pristine, and scowling as she get’s angrier and angrier. Oh my stars that is the student council president!

“All right, everyone we’re going to go!”

“Stay safe.”

“And let your hearts be…uh…filled with love!”

The other magical girls intervene covering their leader who you’re certain has snapped their wand in half, disappearing in a magical poof of glittery smoke. Before you can really figure out if you recognize the rest of them paramedics swoop you up repeating an exhausted spiel about keeping calm and places to go to if your still traumatized from the monster. 

After plenty of talks with investigators who were way too happy to have the help of the magical team you’re free to go. A cast on your arm and a bandage on your knees but your fine. Allowed to return to class where your showered with fanfare from your peers who simply can’t believe you got to be saved by the magical girls that all were simply obsessed with. 

It’s draining but you endure it, chugging like an old sturdy train through classes the best you can. It isn’t until the very end of the day—the very last period that you are able to see the face you’re certain smiled wistfully at you while dousing the monster holding you down in a crimson beam shrouded in hearts. Except they weren’t smiling they were glaring and stomping in your direction. The clack of quarter inch heeled shoes and the steam puffing from the reddened face of the Crimson Tyrant Student Council President: Riddle Rosehearts harkened his destined path for you as he pointed an accusatory finger in your direction. 

“YOU!”

The students around you scattered, conveniently heading to their clubs and no longer focused on signing your cast in the wake of the infamous red tyrant. Who could blame them? The student council president once rumored to have choked the most unruly delinquents into submission while the staff turned a blind eye—in fear of earning the sophmore’s wrath. But there was something else everyone ought to be afraid of and it went far past the occasional temper tantrum from the model student.

“Hey president good to see you again.”

His face inexplicably became even more red, blurring where his hair started and his face ended. 

“Why say that!? This is the first time I’m seeing you today.”

The president was good at a lot of things–mathematics, sciences, languages, but where one side of the balance weighs heavy the other side lacks tenfold. And the thing he was missing was the beautiful ability to lie with a straight face. The twitch of his eye, the stomp of his loafers, and the fist aggressively assaulting the ballpoint pen used to write referrals. 

“You know President Riddle,” you lean in unable to stop the smile spreading on your face.

“You shouldn’t be so upset, shouldn’t our hearts forever be full of love?” 

In a span of a minute Riddle’s reddened face contorts into something ugly, twisted, and veiny. You’re certain he’ll give himself a heart atttack. It’d be bad press to kill the main magical girl to a measly bout of anger so you sigh and step close. A whisper that the eavesdropping students really won’t overhear. 

“It’s okay the frills really suit you.”

You walk away, unbothered by whatever state you’ve left the Student Council President in. Certain you are the action star walking away from the nastiest explosion the school had ever seen. The rumors would spread and you’d go down in your academy's 'most popular' history for the rest of your academic career. Currently there was no one to stop you for you had the hottest blackmail in the world; the identity of the lead magical girl who had become the curiosity of every civilian, royal, and private enterprise that wanted to know exactly what you did. 

You were truthfully untouchable.

The president left in the slowly populating hallway was left to stare at the space you had occupied. The red on his face shrinking to the apples of his cheeks. The blood likely flowing post haste to the organ that refused to calm despite it’s latest adversary who had practically skipped away. 

Let’s rewind shall we. 

Just the day before Student Council President Riddle Rosehearts was once again at the top of the world. The way a perfectionist is when they’ve found a way to weave chaos into the schedule. Not only did President Roseheart lead the discipline of the relentlessly unruly student body but he was the newly appointed protector of the people—a Magical Ambassador of the Heart. Bestowed upon him at the height of his success last year he’d truly begun to accept his role as the magical leader he was born to be. 

It wasn’t easy not only heading over 2,000 students, saving the world monthly, and keeping a tight leash on his newly appointed magical juniors. 

It was a lot…even for him.

Too often he’d found himself at the end of his rope. If it wasn’t the council, it was the juniors, and if it wasn’t the juniors, it was his mother—judgemental, unsupportive, wholefuly ignorant witch. Clutching the heart covered wand that regenerated after every battle with trembling hands as he rocked himself to maintain a semblance of his sanity. He figured he was allowed something. If only a small increment of affection he was allowed outside his obligations. Of course he is; he deserves this.

It started small. A glance really. That he’d allow himself to look at the observant pair of eyes in the back of the class 32B. He’d gotten used to this gaggle of students because his troublesome juniors were often doing what they did best here. Now including a new face—the transfer student—- in between them. Already on the headmaster’s radar, there was little Riddle could ever do to truly exact his control authority over them without the buffoon’s headmaster’s intervention. It emboldened those ill-behaved juniors of his to defy him and for awhile he avidly hated the owner of that watchful gaze. Cursing their existence along with all the other aspects of his life he failed to properly regulate. 

When it all came to a head. 

A monster covered in scales and reeking of a rotting corpse attacked the school. It had smashed itself into the side of building A—which featured the majority of the student body. Documentaries would be made, mass memorials honored because the casualties were that of a civilian town caught amid the heat of a war. It would be held in regard by the public as a victory won by a mystical team they may never fully understand. But that was the gift of after. Few survivors could testify just how much of a battlefield it was that day. Riddle would know.

He was there.

In an instant the world was an uncertain cloud of crumbling ash. The sounds of screams and the acrid scent of something unknown muddling any judgement he could muster. He was just talking with a teacher…an especially lazy one he was warning about something he’d already forgotten. The ache of his body was minor in comparison to the consistent ringing in his ears. The confusion of seeing things that should be making noise like the student’s shoes slapping against the ruined classroom running past him or the student writhing on the ground her mouth opened wide almost like she was screaming. The ringing was decreasing if only a little allowing the president to pick up on the light splat coming from underneath him. 

It was red and it smudged when he wiped a thumb across it. It vaguely registers that the liquid is coming from him dripping down his head and sullying the concrete dusted uniform with blood. He doesn’t bother finding the source, weirdly enough reminded of the red-dressed hero that needed to make an entrance. So occupied searching for the golden hairclip that magically transforms him he failed to register the grotesque bloodied hand reaching from the haze and right for him.

“Look out!” 

Someone had slammed into him, launching him out of the range of a fist that crushed  the tiles beneath it.

“Riddle are you okay? C’mon get it together!” 

It was you the daring, troublesome, transfer. The one he’d allowed his mind to wonder with. The one he scarcely allowed himself to fantasize about a future with. And now you were a reminder that there was something he needed to do. To get you and everyone out of this situation. 

It was pure coincidence that you needed saving again and frankly he didn’t really need to. The monster wasn’t actively attacking you, more so putting you in danger because it was careless of others as it was lumbering around. But you still needed saving and the lovely Queen of Hearts wouldn’t leave you to suffer. Especially when he got to carry you himself. Thanks to the strength given to all of the magical ambassadors he was allowed to carry you in a way he’d daydreamed about. Now it was real and the closeness he relished in unfortunately was his undoing in terms of protecting his identity.

All too easily you called him out. As expected clever little mouse.

He was lucky no one was listening.

A new dilemma arises one, he was certain that troublesome duo would break first. How to deal with anyone who discovers their identity? Ace, in previous meetings, brought up coincidental-appearing assassination. Which Riddle immediately turned down. What rudeness and undignified behavior was it to kill the curious in the dark?! They never did finish that conversation on account that some upper class students were fighting in the courtyard. It was relief not to hear the suggestion in their most recent meeting.

“Maybe we wipe their memory?”

“And lose what?! The entire school year. No way!”

“Maybe we corner them and talk them out of what they saw?”

“I know gaslighting is your thing an all but we have to sit with them every day. That’s not going to fly.”

“My thing?! What the heck do you think is my thing?!”

Riddle didn’t speak for the longest time. Letting their juvenile arguments become background noise to the roaring avalanche of thoughts. The image of your face curious and all knowing looking at him with a blank expression while the student body joined with laughter and fear. It’s a torrent of unsettling hallucinations that push Riddle to accept a twisted logic. 

“I’ll just….remove them.”

He doesn’t hear their silence. Doesn’t see the sweat beading on their brow. Or the way hands have gone to hide wicked smiles spreading on their faces. He just moves on continuing as though his whole chemistry isn’t being redefined. 

Deep down of course he’s already brewing a plan, as an Ambassador of the Heart he’s vehemently against any form of violence to get what he wants. But a vital part of being the magical hero that he is means protecting his identity and since you’ve gotten in the way of that he’ll have no choice but to insert himself into your life. Finally!

“Sorry to interrupt your teaching but I’ll need (Y/n) from you class.”

“Uh sure, I’ll give you the homework to go then!”

It doesn’t matter that you might’ve intended to blackmail him or that you’d rather sit through class than be forced to do whatever helping the student council needs throughout the day.

“What’s your deal Rosehearts?! I thought we had an understanding! Y’know?! About the frilly thing I saw the other day.”

He turns his nose up at you like he still had the upper hand,”Because of that I can’t afford to have you telling anyone about what you saw.”

“So what?! You gonna break the code and kill me or something?”

A smirk from the Student Council President sends shivers down your spine.

“If you like the life you have now I suggest, you get comfortable helping out.” He pulls out a student council uniform from behind his back. The perfect size just for you. You hadn’t noticed it before. Like how you didn’t notice his trusty vice president and secretary at the opposite ends of the hallway as if you’d run+

“I’d hate to take you away from your family before I put a ring on your finger.”

Kofi → Here

Masterlist → Here

Commissions → Here

(A dollar A headcannon season Open!!)

[ekonvilla]

Dancing with a stranger - Daniela Avanzini

| pairing: Daniela x reader

| synopsis: right person, wrong time.

| warnings: none, but a drop of angst.🫣

A/N: I had to make a new account but Daniela won the vote so I made the one shot. (First time writing so it might suck. 🫩)

Daniela threw herself into her career, pushing aside the guilt that gnawed at her every time she saw Y/N's picture or heard her name. She told herself she was doing it for them, that this was the only way they could both be happy. But the doubt remained, a constant whisper in the back of her mind.

Then, one fateful evening, their paths crossed again at an industry gala. The event was a glamorous affair, filled with glitz and glamour, a stark contrast to the quiet apartment where their love had once thrived in secret. Y/N looked radiant in a simple yet elegant black suit, her hair cascading down her back. She was with a woman, their hands entwined, her eyes sparkling with a genuine happiness that Daniela hadn't seen in a long time.

Daniela's heart skipped a beat when she spotted Y/N from across the room. She had moved on; there was no doubt about it. The woman by Y/N's side was beautiful, and the way they looked at each other spoke volumes about their love. Daniela felt a pang of regret, but she quickly shoved it aside. She had her own partner now, a successful businessman who adored her.

As fate would have it, their groups of friends collided, and introductions were made. Y/N's girlfriend, a doctor with a warm smile, extended her hand to Daniela's boyfriend with ease. Meanwhile, Y/N's eyes searched Daniela's, a question lingering there. Daniela took a deep breath and introduced her boyfriend, feeling the awkwardness of the situation thicken the air.

The band transitioned into a slow ballad, and couples began to pair off for the dance floor. Y/N's hand was already on her girlfriend's waist, leading her to the dance floor with a gentle smile. Daniela felt a pang of longing, remembering the countless times she and Y/N had danced together in their apartment, the world outside forgotten. Her boyfriend, sensing the shift in her mood, took her hand and guided her to the floor as well.

As they danced, Daniela couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N and her partner. Their laughter floated over the music, a sweet sound that seemed to echo through the years, taunting Daniela with memories of their own secret moments of joy. Y/N looked so at ease, so in love, that it was almost painful to watch, and it took Daniela back to a time.

Flashback 1:

The room was dimly lit by the flickering screen, casting shadows that danced across the walls. The sound of a distant explosion from the movie echoed through the speakers, briefly interrupting the quiet hum of the air conditioner. Y/N and Daniela lounged on the couch, their legs entangled, as they watched some superhero movie that Y/N has seen but Daniela hasn’t. The bowl of popcorn sat untouched between them.

A half hour into the movie Daniela felt a gaze on her profile and turned to meet Y/N's eyes. The smile on Y/N's face was soft, unassuming, but it held a warmth that seemed to fill the entire space.

“Is there something on my face?" Daniela asked, her voice a little shakier than she'd intended.

Y/N's smile grew wider, a silent laugh bubbling in her chest. She gently brushed a strand of hair away from Daniela's eyes, her touch sending a shiver down Daniela's spine. "No," she whispered, "you're just the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

The words hung in the air, charged with an electric current that seemed to pulse in Daniela's veins. She felt her cheeks flush and her eyes widen. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the movie faded into the background, replaced by the pounding of her pulse in her ears.

Y/N leaned in, her eyes never leaving Daniela's, and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. It was a gesture so small, yet it sent waves of heat crashing through Daniela's body.

Y/N, seemingly unfazed, turned back to the film, her hand finding its way to Daniela's. She threaded their fingers together, giving Daniela's hand a gentle squeeze.

Daniela could almost remember the feeling of her heart almost beating out of her chest that day. Don’t even get Daniela started on when she tried to teach Y/N how to dance.

Flashback 2 :

"You're stepping on my toes again," Daniela chuckled, pulling away slightly.

Y/N's cheeks flushed red. "Sorry," she mumbled, shifting her weight onto her heels. The soft music playing in the background did little to calm her nerves.

Daniela, with a knowing smile, placed her hand gently on Y/N's shoulder, guiding them to lean closer. "It's okay," she assured, "Just follow my lead."

The living room, once a battlefield of awkward steps and misjudged twirls, had transformed into a dance floor under Daniela's guidance. The furniture had been pushed aside, making way for their swaying.

"Relax," Daniela whispered into Y/N's ear, her breath tickling their skin. "You're doing great."

Yet, the moment the words left her mouth, Y/N's foot caught on something unseen, sending her stumbling forward. Daniela's arms shot out to catch Y/N, her reflexes honed from years of dance classes. But despite her efforts, they both toppled to the floor in a fit of giggles, their limbs intertwined like a pair of drunken fools.

Daniela remembered that day like it was nothing and to this day it still brought a smile to her face, before it soured a little when she remembered the day things ended.

Flashback 3 :

Y/N sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone as the TV played a sitcom rerun, the laugh track echoing hollowly in the quiet apartment. Her eyes weren't on the screen; they were on the time. It had been hours since Daniela's rehearsal was supposed to end, and she still hadn't come home. The room was a silent testament to Daniela's absence, her half-filled water bottle on the coffee table and the faint scent of her perfume in the air. Y/N sighed, setting her phone aside and rubbing her eyes.

The sound of the key turning in the lock made her head snap up. Daniela entered, her eyes tired and her smile forced, her outfit replaced by comfortable sweats. She dropped her bag and headed straight to the kitchen.

"You're home," Y/N said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"Yeah, sorry," Daniela mumbled, opening the fridge and scanning the contents. "It went late again."

"It's always 'late again,'" Y/N said, unable to hold back the frustration. "When do you ever have time for us anymore?"

Daniela closed the fridge with a thud and turned around, her expression tight. "I told you this would happen, Y/N. Being in a group isn't just a hobby; it's my life now."

"And what about me?" Y/N retorted, standing up. "Am I just a footnote in the grand scheme of things?"

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken resentment. Daniela's eyes widened, and she took a step back, the fridge acting as a barrier between them. "What do you mean?"

"You're always with them," Y/N said, her voice cracking. "Your group members, your manager, the fans. It's like I'm the last person you think about now."

Daniela's eyes searched Y/N's, a storm of emotions brewing in their depths. "You know that's not true," she protested weakly.

"Then why don't any of them know about me or us?" Y/N's voice grew louder, the dam of her patience finally breaking. "You're always worried about keeping this," she gestured between them, "a secret from everyone. I'm not some dirty little secret, Daniela!"

Daniela's shoulders dropped, and she leaned against the fridge, looking defeated. "You know it's not like that," she whispered. "The industry, the fans—it's all so sensitive. If they knew..."

"If they knew what?" Y/N interrupted, her voice rising. "That you're in a relationship? That you're a real person with feelings and a life outside of your famous persona?"

Daniela flinched at the accusation. "It's complicated," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm trying to protect us. If we go public, it could ruin everything."

"Protect us?" Y/N scoffed, her voice thick with disbelief. "Or is it just protecting your image?"

"It's not just that," Daniela insisted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's about our happiness too. If we go public, everything changes. The scrutiny, the pressure..."

"But we could face it together," Y/N argued, taking a step closer. "We could be honest about who we are, show the world that love is love, no matter who it's between."

"You don't get it," Daniela said, her voice strained. "It's not just about love. It's about the illusion they've created for me. If they find out I'm with a girl, they'll think I've been lying to them."

Y/N felt the tension in the air thicken. "So, what are we then? Some kind of secret side gig?"

"No!" Daniela's voice broke, and she rushed over to grab Y/N's hands. "You're not a side gig; you're the most important thing in the world to me."

Y/N searched her eyes, looking for the truth in her words. "Then why are you so afraid to share that with anyone else?" she whispered.

"Because if they find out, it could all be over," Daniela replied, her grip tightening. "My career, our relationship, everything."

Y/N pulled her hands away, her eyes wet. "Is that what you really think? That your fans wouldn't support you if they knew you were bisexual?"

"I don't know," Daniela admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Some might, but others... I just can't risk it, Y/N. Not after everything I've worked for."

Y/N felt the weight of her own tears and swiped at them angrily. "So, what? We just keep hiding forever?"

Daniela looked at her, desperation etched into her features. "What other choice do we have?"

Y/N stepped back, folding her arms. "I don't know, Daniela," she said, her voice shaking. "Maybe if you started by telling your group members? They're supposed to be your family, your closest friends."

The room fell silent, and Daniela looked away, biting her lip. "They don't know," she confessed. "They think I'm focusing on work, that's all."

Y/N stared at her, shocked. "What do you mean, they don't know?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"They don't," Daniela said, her voice small. "I didn't want to risk it."

The words hit Y/N like a ton of bricks. She couldn't believe it. "You're kidding," she said, her voice laced with hurt. "You don't trust them enough to tell them about us?"

"It's not about trust," Daniela replied, her eyes pleading. "It's about what's best for the group, for my career."

Y/N's heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. "And what about what's best for us?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry," Daniela murmured, taking a step towards her. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you are," Y/N said, her voice shaking. "Every time you push me aside for your job, every time you hide me from the people you're supposed to trust the most—you're hurting me."

The words hung in the air, a palpable barrier growing between them. Daniela's eyes searched Y/N's, looking for a shred of understanding. "I'm doing this for us," she insisted.

"No," Y/N said firmly, taking another step back. "You're doing this for you. For your career. You've been hiding me like I'm something to be ashamed of."

Daniela's eyes widened. "That's not true," she protested. "You're everything to me."

But Y/N had heard enough. She turned and headed towards their bedroom, her heart hammering in her chest. "I can't do this anymore," she said, her voice shaking.

"Y/N, please," Daniela called after her, but she didn't stop. The door to their room clicked shut, and Daniela was left standing in the living room, her eyes blurring with tears.

Gods she remembered crying so much after that day. And when her group mates found out the reason,they were a little hurt but then the hurt turned into understanding.

"You okay?" her boyfriend whispered in her ear, his hand squeezing hers gently.

Daniela forced a smile. "I'm fine," she murmured, trying to ignore the hollowness in her chest.

She focused on the music, the rhythmic beating of their hearts together, but it couldn't drown out the echoes of the past. She watched as Y/N and her girlfriend spin around the floor, their movements in sync, their laughter ringing out like a sweet melody that only the two of them could hear.

The sight was a knife twisting in Daniela's heart, a stark reminder of all the moments they could've shared.

“Look what you made me do, I'm with somebody new Ooh, baby, baby, I'm dancing with a stranger”

[floraliike]

K-pop Demon Hunters | Fanfic ⋆☕︎ ˖

Mystery x Reader °˖➴ Idol's obsession

Fluff, stalker-ish behavior

Mystery becomes obsessed with a fan after seeing her at a concert and after the show, he follows her home, a silent guardian in the shadows.

M.list | Part 2

Chapter 1: The Scent of Obsession

The roar of the crowd was a familiar symphony, a tidal wave of adoration that washed over me night after night.

As Mystery, the charming, charismatic idol, I fed off that energy, allowing it to fuel the illusion I so carefully crafted. They saw a human, a performer, but beneath the carefully applied stage makeup and designer clothes, my true form yearned for something more… primal.

Tonight, however, was different.

My gaze swept across the sea of faces, a habit, an instinct, until it landed on her. She stood a few rows back, bathed in the kaleidoscope of stage lights.

Her hair was a cascade of deep brown, almost black, shimmering like polished obsidian, framing a face that held my attention captive. Her eyes, even from this distance, seemed to sparkle with an intensity that drew me in, a shade of warm amber that reminded me of twilight. She was singing along, her voice a soft hum lost in the cacophony, but I imagined it would be a melody I'd want to hear on repeat.

A jolt went through me.

An unfamiliar, potent pull.

It wasn't the usual thrill of performance; it was something deeper, something that resonated with the ancient core of my being.

My attention, usually spread across the entire audience, narrowed, fixated solely on her. I couldn't act on it then, not with thousands of eyes on me, but a decision solidified in my mind: I had to find her.

The moment the final encore ended, a restless energy surged through me. My bandmates were still basking in the afterglow, but I couldn't.

I made a quick excuse, slipping away from the usual post-concert chaos in the changing room. A dark hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low – my disguise was simple but effective. I moved through the throngs of departing fans, my senses heightened, searching.

And then I saw her.

Far away, near the entrance of the venue, illuminated by the harsh glow of the streetlights. She was standing next to one of our posters, a giant image of me, my stage persona smiling brightly. She pulled out her phone, tilting her head to snap a picture. A warmth spread through my chest, something akin to excitement.

She liked me.

Or at least, I was her favorite.

The thought, the image of her admiring me, sent a thrill through my veins, a possessive delight that was inherently demonic.

I followed her.

A silent shadow in the bustling city, keeping a safe distance, just enough to ensure she was safe, but close enough to track her every move.

The cool night air carried her scent to me – a delicate blend of something sweet, like wildflowers, and a hint of warm vanilla. It was intoxicating, a fragrance that seemed to cling to my senses, making my demon form stir with an unfamiliar longing.

Once she was safely inside her apartment building, I retreated to the shadows, my mind reeling.

The encounter, fleeting as it was, had left an indelible mark. Her hair, her eyes, the imagined sound of her voice, and that intoxicating scent… I couldn't stop thinking about her.

The fascination was immediate, intense, and undeniably possessive. It was in my nature as a demon to claim what I desired, and I desired her with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

She was mine, even if she didn't know it yet.

That night, I decided I would visit her.

And I did.

Every night.

A silent sentinel, watching over her.

I'd perch on her balcony, a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky, observing her as she went about her evening routine.

She never noticed me.

My demon senses were too sharp, my movements too silent.

Days turned into nights, and I continued my vigil, following her to work and back home, a silent guardian ensuring her safety.

I saw the mundane details of her life, the way she hummed to herself while making coffee, the focused expression when she worked on her laptop, the simple joy in her smile when she talked on the phone.

Each observation only deepened my infatuation, fueling the fire of my growing obsession. I was gathering the courage to talk to her, to step out of the shadows and into her world.

One evening, my blood ran cold.

I was following her home from work, as usual, when she stopped outside her office building.

A boy, perhaps a colleague, was talking to her. He was laughing, too close, his hand brushing her arm. A low growl rumbled in my chest, a sound I barely suppressed.

Jealousy, a raw, primal emotion, flared within me.

How dare he touch her?

How dare he make her smile like that?

I followed her home, my mind consumed by the image of that boy. My usual perch on her balcony felt constricting tonight, the anger and possessiveness swirling within me.

I watched her through the window as she moved about her kitchen, preparing food. The scent of her cooking, usually comforting, was overshadowed by the bitterness of my jealousy.

The thoughts of that boy, that audacious human, wouldn’t leave my mind and without realizing it, a low, guttural growl escaped my lips, a sound born of my simmering rage.

And she froze.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide, searching the darkness beyond her window. "Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling slightly. "Is anyone there?"

Her eyes widened further, her jaw dropping. "Mystery?" she whispered, disbelief coloring her voice. Then, as the initial shock wore off, her expression hardened. "What are you doing here? Get out! Or I'll call the police!"

My heart, or what passed for it, pounded.

She heard me.

My cover was blown.

Reluctantly, I stepped out of the shadows, my human form shimmering into existence on her balcony.

The words struck me like a physical blow.

My chest tightened, a strange, unfamiliar ache spreading through me.

I wanted to explain, to tell her everything, but the fear in her eyes was palpable. I couldn’t force her.

My usual confidence faltered.

With a heavy heart, I turned and vanished into the night, leaving her standing there, alone and afraid.

The sadness, the rejection, was a bitter taste in my mouth.

She hadn't listened.

She hadn't understood.

I didn't explain.

I ran, like a coward.

[cupidstrace]

Shiu's down bad and pays you and your husband for that goochie.

You’re crying when he pushes in again – slow and deep and deliberate, like he wants to memorize the way your cunt clings to his length. Every inch he gives you makes you sob harder, one hand fisting the sheets, the other clawing at his back like you don’t know whether you want to pull him closer or push him away.

“Fuuck, baby,” he groans, watching your lashes flutter as he bottoms out, “take it so well.. shit, been dreaming ‘bout this pussy for years.”

Toji’s low laugh drifts from the armchair in the corner. His legs are spread, a drink in one hand, the other lazily stroking his cock. The tip is flushed and wet, untouched by anything but his own hand, and he hasn’t moved much since this started. He doesn’t have to.

“This is better than porn,” he mutters, taking a slow sip of his whiskey as his eyes drag over your wrecked body. “Told you she gets like this. Pretty little whore when she’s stuffed just right.”

Your head lolls to the side, eyes glossy as you look at him – at your husband – smirking in the shadows while you sob around another man’s cock. You don’t say anything – can’t. Just whine, broken and needy, as your hips roll helplessly beneath Shiu.

Shiu’s hands are shaking. Not from nerves, but from restraint. He’s trying so hard to be gentle, even as your cunt sucks at him like you’ve been aching just for him and you look up at him all cute lashes fluttering and mouth open in a dumb little ‘oh’.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. Hoarse, like it’s been burning in his throat for too long. “Think about you all the fucking time. Can’t stop.”

He presses his forehead to the crook of your neck for a second, like he needs the contact to stay grounded. “You’re so, shit, gorgeous,” he breathes, voice trembling as his hand runs down your side – awe-soaked and adoring. “Perfect girl. Can’t believe I’m inside you.”

He holds there for a moment, buried deep against a spot that has stars sparkling in the back of your eyelids. His hands tremble on your waist, breath ghosting hot along your collarbone, and time suspends. If only for a moment. The room falls quiet except for the wet drag of bodies pressed flush. He’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything more real, more wanted, like you were sent by the heavens to bless him simply by letting his hands trail over the plush of your thighs.

“I shouldn’t want you like this,” he mutters against your throat. “While your husband’s watching. While you’re crying out for me like– fuuuuck, angel.”

You clench around him, and he loses the rhythm for a second – hips stuttering before he props up your thigh and slams into you harder, rougher now, like he’s finally letting himself have what he’s paid for.

Your back arches, little whines turning into a silent scream as you flutter around him, soaked and syrupy, taking every inch like you were made for it, like you belong to him.

Toji groans under his breath, stroking faster.

“Don’t go falling in love now,” he drawls out, husk beneath his breath. His eyes lock on your treacly cunt, the mess between your thighs. “She cries for anyone who fucks her right.”

Shiu’s mouth finds yours, eyes half-lidded, and he whispers into it like he can’t help himself.

“Then let me be the only one who does.”

[gohyemi]

sparks between us

“You guys ready?” Y/N asked as she carefully buckled the youngest into his car seat, getting everything set for their evening adventure.

“Yeah!” came the cheerful reply in unison from the twins, Somin and Jongmin, their faces already glowing with excitement.

Y/N smiled. She had decided to take her sister’s kids to the local festival being held that night. She knew how much they loved fireworks—and this was the perfect chance to treat them. Beside her, the baby, who was almost a year old, giggled at the sound of his siblings' enthusiastic voices.

“Alright then—let’s go!” she grinned, starting the engine.

———

The festival grounds were alive with energy. Though the place was packed, the crowd was still bearable, and the paths were wide enough to move through without too much trouble. Colorful lights twinkled from every direction, casting a warm glow on the faces of passersby. The twins' mouths hung open in wonder, their eyes darting around in awe.

“Imo, let’s go there!” Somin tugged eagerly at the hem of Y/N’s shirt, pointing toward a game booth glittering with lights and prizes.

Y/N glanced down, adjusting the baby strapped securely to her front while she pushed Jongmin in the stroller. “Slow down, Somin,” she chuckled. “Let’s go after the fireworks. Come on—we have to find a good spot before they start!”

Somin pouted at the initial rejection, but her mood instantly lifted at the mention of fireworks. “Okay! Yay!” she cheered, skipping forward.

By the time they reached the riverside, a large crowd had already gathered, taking up most of the front viewing spots. Y/N sighed. They’d have to settle for watching from a little farther back. She adjusted the baby in the carrier and made sure everything was secure.

Just then, a countdown boomed through the speakers.

“Imo, carry me!” Somin chirped, reaching up.

Y/N giggled and crouched down slightly to let Somin climb onto her back. “Alright, up you go,” she said, securing the girl carefully for a piggyback ride.

“I can’t see too!” Jongmin complained, trying his best to stand in the stroller, only to be blocked by the taller crowd in front of them.

“Oh, Jongmin-ah…” Y/N looked around helplessly. With the baby strapped to her front and Somin on her back, there was no way she could lift Jongmin too. She was completely occupied.

Just then, a gentle cough caught her attention from behind.

She turned—and froze.

Standing there was someone she never expected to see. Was this real life? Either she was incredibly lucky… or God had decided to make her final wish come true tonight.

The man standing before her was like someone pulled straight from her daydreams. Tall. Handsome. Well-dressed. He even smelled amazing. And the way his eyes sparkled under the festival lights—she could’ve sworn time slowed.

“If it’s alright with you,” the man said kindly, his deep voice smooth and warm, “I can carry your nephew on my shoulders so he can see the fireworks.”

And he’s kind too?! Y/N blinked, stunned.

Before she could even respond, Somin—still clinging to Y/N’s back—cut in with a stern voice. “She’s our aunt, not our mom. Our mom and dad are on their honeymoon. We’re here with Imo to see the fireworks!”

Even the baby let out a high-pitched squeak as if trying to join the conversation, glaring adorably at the stranger.

The man chuckled. “Oh, of course. My deepest apologies, princess. Thank you for clearing that up.” He gave a slight bow toward Somin and the baby, still smiling.

Y/N nearly lost feeling in her knees at the sound of his laugh. She cleared her throat quickly, forcing herself to focus. “Umm… sorry. And you are…?”

“Oh! I’m Mingyu,” he replied with an easy smile. “I saw you struggling with the little ones, so I thought maybe I could help your nephew see better. No bad intention I swear” mingyu put his right hand to his heart.

Y/N paused for a second, still unsure if she was dreaming. But the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable.

“…That would actually be really helpful,” she admitted, offering a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mingyu.”

“No problem,” he said, bending down to Jongmin’s level. “Hey buddy, want to hop on my shoulders?”

Jongmin looked up at Y/N for approval.

When she nodded, he beamed and eagerly let Mingyu lift him.

With Somin on her back, the baby giggling in front, and now Jongmin cheering from Mingyu’s shoulders, Y/N couldn’t help but feel warmth flood her chest.

“Is this why people say that when you’re in love, you start imagining a family with them too?” Y/N found herself thinking, glancing sideways at Mingyu.

She quickly shook the thought away, blaming the atmosphere.

A loud crack echoed through the night sky, pulling her attention back to the fireworks. Bright, colorful bursts painted the darkness with light, spreading like glowing petals across the heavens. The twins oohed and aahed from her back and beside her, and even the baby let out a delighted squeal before snuggling deeper into her chest.

As the final sparks faded into the night, the crowd slowly began to disperse. The show was over.

Mingyu crouched down gently, letting Jongmin slide off his shoulders. The little boy landed with a bounce, a wide smile on his face.

“Ajusshi, you’re so tall! That was fun! I felt like a giant!” Jongmin exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with joy.

Mingyu laughed and affectionately ruffled the boy’s hair. “Thanks, buddy. I bet you’ll be tall too someday.”

Y/N glanced down just in time to see the baby yawn and whine softly, rubbing his face against her chest as he began to drift off. The warmth of the night, the excitement, and the weight of carrying three kids was starting to take its toll on her too.

“Thank you so much, Mingyu-ssi,” Y/N said, bowing slightly with sincere gratitude.

“Imo… I want to go home now…” Somin mumbled, her voice muffled as she nuzzled against Y/N’s back.

With a tired sigh, Y/N gently crouched to let Somin down, shifting her carefully into the stroller so she could rest. Jongmin, ever the quiet one, stood beside them, rubbing his eyes. Even he was starting to give in to sleepiness, proving how closely the twins were in sync.

Y/N turned back to Mingyu. “I really wish I could repay you somehow, Mingyu-ssi… but I need to get these monsters home.” She ruffled Jongmin’s hair playfully, making him blush and shyly hide behind her leg.

Mingyu chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… you could repay me later.”

“Huh?” Y/N blinked, confused.

Without a word, Mingyu pulled out his phone and opened Instagram, holding it out to her with the search bar already waiting.

“Mind giving me your @? So we can keep in touch? And maybe you can repay me with coffee someday?” His ears had turned a noticeable shade of red.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the squeal threatening to escape. He’s seriously this cute too?

Trying her best to stay calm, she took the phone and typed in her username.

“There,” she said, handing it back with a small smile. “Hope we run into each other again soon, Mingyu-ssi.”

“Same here,” he said with a grin, his eyes still lingering on her for just a second longer than necessary.

As she turned around and began to walk away, she could hear Jongmin cheerfully calling out behind her.

“Bye-bye, tall AJUSSHI!”

Mingyu laughed and waved back. “Bye, little man!”

And just like that, they disappeared into the night—three sleepy kids, one glowing heart, and the soft echo of fireworks still lingering in the air.

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

a/n: short oneshot before i dissapear again~

[aokayo]

No Leo in her chart

• No spotlight in her bones. No roar behind her smile.

• She doesn’t need to be seen. Doesn’t need to shine.

• She isn’t performance. She’s presence.

• Quiet, magnetic, unknowable.

• She doesn’t glow for applause.

• She doesn’t lead with her heart—it beats in secret.

• No need to dazzle. No hunger for crowns.

• Her power is in the shadows, not the stage.

• She doesn’t demand loyalty.

• Doesn’t melt under praise.

• Love, for her, isn’t a show. It’s a pulse you earn.

• The Sun still warms her—but from far away.

• She reflects it, doesn’t become it.

• She’s not the flame.

• She’s the room that grows darker when it leaves.

No Leo in his chart

• No center-of-the-room heat. No need to impress.

• He doesn’t perform. Doesn’t pose. Doesn’t roar.

• He doesn’t need your eyes on him.

• Doesn’t crave the throne.

• If he leads, it’s quiet. Reluctant. Real.

• He doesn’t love loudly.

• He won’t light you up—he’ll ground you.

• No sparkle. Just gravity.

• He’s not fueled by praise.

• Compliments slide off him like dust.

• He’s not here to be adored—he’s here to be true.

• The Sun still rules him—but it’s behind clouds.

• His fire is buried. Controlled.

• He’s not the hero.

• He’s the force that decides whether the hero makes it home.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

First time asker, kinda nervous but Darling, the reader in a polo outfit has my brain worms going insane!!!! Oughhhhh, I think Stan and Ford would be equally insane about reader in an outfit like that.

Stan (lovingly and consensually of course) would definitely whistle at reader especially if it’s a skirt-short kind of combo, he’s absolutely feral over the idea of reader in an outfit like that. And if reader is playing a sport like tennis??!!! Oh, he’s GONE, his eyes are solely on reader and absolutely goes for a feel if reader comes to him for some water.

And for Ford, he’s more internal about it I think, he doesn’t wanna distract reader from their sport but he’s absolutely running laps in his brain, I feel like he’s nerdy enough to get hot under the collar over watching reader’s body simply move as they play tennis and how the shorts/outfit moves with them <3. His eyes tracking their back muscles, or legs, or even their ass but gets SO flustered if he’s caught.

(Sorry this is so long and if it doesn’t make sense, the two of them are definitely competitive as well and I think if either won with reader against another couple, they wouldnt ever shut up about it <3)

OMG first of all PLEASE don’t ever apologize this message is PERFECT and you made my entire brain sparkle. and you made TOTAL sense btw !! this is delicious and you should be proud bc i’m about to scream about it with you

lil tennis skirt-polo combo. yeah. Stan’s TOAST. whistling 1000%. hand on his hip, eyes trailing up and down with the nastiest smirk but it’s all adoring too. like he’s just watching the love of his life absolutely fuck up his ability to focus and he’s into it. and when you come over all hot and flushed asking for water and he casually (not really) slides a hand down your back or over your waist???? I’M GONE. i would become so stupid around him

and Ford i looved the way you wrote him! he would be LOSING IT inside and acting like he’s fine but he is not fine. trying to hide behind his clipboard or smth stupid like that. you bend to pick up a ball and he stares, then looks away so fast. “focus on the sport, Stanford, that’s your partner. don’t look at her legs. stop looking at her legs. god, her legs...” PLEASE FORD PLS. yes yes imagine catching him, he tries to play it off with a fake cough or some smart comment about form and motion like baby. shut up!! we KNOW what you were doing <3

ALSO THE COMPETITIVE ANGLE, why did i never think about this !! yes i feel like they would absolutely get into it. Stan would be loud and cocky and Ford would just be smug but silent about it until hours later he brings it up all casual like

“well, statistically, our performance was superior—“

”FORD. you’ve brought this up five times.”

you’re AMAZING. this was SO much fun to read. now i can’t stop thinking about them both being losers in love over sporty reader 😭 pls drop thoughts anytime i LOVE hearing them!!

[adorned-lover]

ᴍʏ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ. 

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs-- ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴛᴏ ғʟᴜғғ, ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ? ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ sʜ. (ᴍᴏsᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏᴏғʀᴇᴀ��, ᴘʟs ʟᴍᴋ ɪғ ɪ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ!) 

ᴀɴ- ғɪʀsᴛ ғɪᴄ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ! ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ- ᴋɪᴍ sᴇᴜɴɢᴍɪɴ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

       

The livestream flickered, a craze of flashing lights and adoring faces blurred by the distance. You hunched closer to the laptop screen, the cheap plastic cool against your cheek. Seungmin, impossibly bright and impossibly far away, was laughing, his smile a blinding light that somehow felt directed only at you, even as he signed a glossy photocard for a girl with hair shining moonlight. Then his hand, long fingers already familiar with the weight of microphones, reached out, not for the pen, but for 𝙝𝙚𝙧 hand.

His fingers, impossibly long and slender, laced with hers. A soft, almost imperceptible squeeze. The girl giggled, a 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝, annoying sound that somehow scraped against your nerves like a fingernail on a chalkboard. Your breath hitched. Another girl, then another. Each one prettier, taller, each one radiating an effortless grace that felt like a universe away from your own clumsy existence. They were all so thin. So 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩. Their smiles were practiced, their eyes sparkled with an innocent adoration that you, with your perpetually chapped lips and the faint sheen of stress sweat on your forehead, could never hope to emulate.

A wetness bloomed on your cheeks, hot and stinging. You blinked, the pixels on the screen momentarily blurring into streaks of color. Seungmin was still smiling, still holding hands, his thumb stroking the back of a, manicured hand. It was a casual gesture, a fleeting moment of fan service, you told yourself. But it felt like a betrayal, a public declaration of affection that bypassed your own heart entirely. The ache in your chest intensified, a familiar, suffocating pressure. 𝙃𝙚'𝙨 𝙖 𝙆𝙥𝙤𝙥 𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙡, the voice in your head whispered, sharp and cruel. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙟𝙤𝙗. 𝙃𝙚'𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙤.. 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮. 𝙎𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙔/𝙉.

The familiar self-loathing began to coil in your stomach, a venomous serpent. You were a mess. A soft, shapeless thing, prone to tears and anxiety, hiding away in your shared apartment while he lived his dazzling life. You traced the outline of your own hand, plump and unadorned, feeling the rough edges of your nails. Seungmin’s hands were art, capable of creating music, capable of… this. Of touching them. Of holding 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 hands.

The livestream continued, the cheerful chatter of the MC a distant drone. You couldn't focus anymore. The image of Seungmin’s hand entwined with another’s burned behind your eyelids. You pushed yourself away from the laptop, the chair scraping harshly against the wooden floor. The sound seemed too loud, too jarring in the quiet apartment. You stumbled towards the kitchen, the floorboards creaking under your weight. Each step felt like a betrayal of the space, a dutiful reminder of your presence.

You opened the refrigerator, the bright interior a stark contrast to the gloom settling over you. The cold air did little to soothe the heat flushing your face. You stared at the shelves, at the half-eaten containers of takeout, the wilting lettuce, forgotten fruit. Nothing looked appetizing. Nothing could fill the torturous emptiness inside you. You closed the door, the soft 𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙥, 𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙥, echoing the hollow feeling in your chest.

A soft whimper escaped your lips, quickly suppressed. You didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not when he might be home soon. But the tears were already welling, blurring your vision, making the world swim. You leaned your forehead against the cool, smooth surface of the refrigerator door, trying to anchor yourself. 𝙃𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙚, you repeated the phrase, a desperate plea. 𝙃𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙚. But the images from the screen, the effortless beauty of the fans, the casual intimacy of his touch, kept replaying, a relentless loop. You squeezed your eyes shut, a sob wracking your body. The sound was muffled against the metal, a pathetic, choked noise. You hated yourself for this weakness. This overwhelming, irrational jealousy that always seemed to win.

The click of the lock in the front door sent a fresh wave of panic through you. He was home. Already? The livestream couldn't have ended that quickly. You scrambled away from the kitchen, wiping frantically at your eyes with the back of your hand. Your face felt hot and puffy, your nose probably red and splotchy. You smoothed down your oversized t-shirt, a weak attempt to appear less… yourself.

Seungmin entered the living room, his voice a warm, melodious sound that usually made your heart sing. "Babyyyy!" He kicked off his shoes, the soft thud familiar and comforting.

You managed a shaky breath. "Welcome back." Your voice was raspy, betraying the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.

He paused, his bright eyes scanning the room, then settling on you. His ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ teasing manor was nowhere to be seen, worry evident in his eyes.  The usual playful smile that graced his lips faltered, replaced by a furrowed brow. He crossed the room in a few long strides, his lean frame moving with an easy grace that always made you feel clumsy by comparison. He knelt before you, his gaze earnest.

"Y/n? What's wrong? You're crying." His voice was soft, laced with concern. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a tear from your cheek. The touch sent a tremor through you, a mix of relief and renewed pain. His skin was cool, smooth.

You couldn't speak, just shook your head, the movement making your vision swim again. The sheer kindness in his eyes, the genuine worry etched on his perfect face, was almost too much to bear. It made your own ugliness, your own insecurities, feel even more pronounced.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. He pulled you gently into his arms, his body a warm, solid presence against yours. You buried your face in his chest, the scent of him—a subtle mix of clean fabric, faint cologne, and something uniquely Seungmin—filling your senses. It was the scent of home, of safety, but tonight, it also felt like a reminder of the world you didn't belong in.

"What happened?" he whispered, his arms tightening around you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

The dam finally broke. A choked sob escaped you, then another, and another. The words tumbled out, a jumbled mess of jealousy and self-hatred. "I… I saw you… on the livestream… with them…"

He pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the fresh tears. "With who?" he asked, his voice still soft, but with a hint of confusion.

"The fans," you choked out, the word tasting bitter. "The girls. You were… you were holding their hands. And they were so… so pretty, Seungmin. So perfect. And I just… I can't be like that. I'm just… me. Fat. Ugly. Useless. And you… you have all these beautiful people wanting you, and you’re touching them, smiling at them…" The words were a torrent, fueled by weeks, months, years of unspoken insecurity.

Seungmin listened patiently, his expression unchanging, his gaze steady and unwavering. He didn't interrupt, didn't dismiss your feelings. When you finally fell silent, gasping for breath, he simply held you closer, stroking your hair.

"Oh, Y/n," he sighed, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "My Y/n."

He pulled you onto the sofa, settling you between his long legs, his arms encircling your waist. You curled into him, feeling small and pathetic, your sobs gradually subsiding into shaky breaths.

"You think I hold their hands because I want to?" he asked, his voice low and serious. "You think those smiles are for them?"

You didn't answer, just burrowed deeper into his warmth. The thought was absurd, of course. He was an idol. This was part of the job. But the jealousy was a creature of its own, feeding on your deepest fears.

"When I hold their hands, Y/n," he continued, his voice a gentle murmur against your hair, "it's a contract. It's a moment for them, for the people who support us, who buy our albums, who stream our music. It's a brief connection, a polite gesture. It's not… this." He tightened his hold around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. "This is real."

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes, the color of warm honey, were filled with an emotion so pure, so intense, it stole your breath. "Those girls, Y/n, they are beautiful, yes. They are young, and they are bright, and they have the kind of beauty that’s on magazine covers. But they don't know you. They don't know how you hum off-key when you’re concentrating. They don't know how you blush when you’re embarrassed. They don't know the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you laugh, a real, genuine laugh, not one for the cameras."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over your face, lingering on your tear-streaked cheeks, your swollen eyes. "They don't know how you make me feel. They don't see the way you light up a room just by being in it, even when you think you're hiding in the shadows. They don't know the comfort I find in your presence, the quiet strength you possess, even when you doubt yourself the most."

He ran a thumb over your lower lip, his touch sending a shiver through you. "You think I love them? You think I could ever look at them, or anyone else, the way I look at you?" He leaned in, his forehead touching yours. "Never. Not in a million lifetimes."

A soft, shaky sigh escaped your lips. "But… I'm not… I'm not like them. I'm not pretty." The words were barely a whisper, thick with unshed tears.

Seungmin chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated through your chest. "Pretty? Y/n, you are the most beautiful person I have ever known."

He kissed you then, a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of comfort and reassurance. It wasn't a passionate, demanding kiss, but a gentle, anchoring one. It was a silent promise, a quiet vow.

"You are beautiful because you are 𝙮𝙤𝙪," he murmured against your lips. "Because you are kind, and funny, and you have a heart bigger than anyone I know. Because you love me, even when you’re convinced I shouldn't love you back." He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours. "And I love you, Y/n. Fiercely. Unconditionally. I love you more than words can say, more than all the cameras and all the fans in the world combined."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your eyelids, then your nose. "You are my home. My peace. My everything. Don't you ever forget that."

You leaned into his touch, the tightness in your chest beginning to loosen, replaced by a fragile warmth. The tears still threatened, but they were no longer tears of despair. They were tears of relief, of overwhelming love. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him tight, as if he might disappear if you let go.

"I love you too," you whispered, the words feeling inadequate, yet more truthful than anything you had ever said.

He held you close, his arms a secure embrace. The faint hum of the city outside, the distant siren, the ticking of the clock on the wall – all the sounds of the world faded away. There was only the steady rhythm of Seungmin’s heartbeat, the warmth of his body, and the quiet certainty of his love. You were not an idol, not a perfect picture on a magazine cover. An that meant everything. The laptop screen, forgotten, still glowed with the remnants of the fan sign, the images now distant and blurry, stripped of their power. Seungmin’s hand, the one that had so recently held the hands of strangers, was now tangled in your hair, his fingers gently stroking your scalp. A soft, contented sigh escaped you. The ache in your chest was gone, replaced by a quiet, profound peace. You were home. You were loved. And for now, that was all that mattered. The world outside, with its impossible standards and short lived affections, ceased to exist. Here, in the quiet sanctuary of their apartment, with Seungmin’s arms around you, you were finally, truly, enough.

He shifted, pulling you closer still, until there was no space left between you. His lips brushed against your temple. "You want to watch something else?" he murmured. "Or maybe… we could just relax?"

You nuzzled into his shoulder, a soft purr of contentment escaping your throat. "Can we just lay here," you whispered, your voice still a little rough from crying, but filled with a newfound calm.

He chuckled, a soft, rumbling sound. He shifted again, carefully maneuvering you so you could lie down on the sofa, his body a warm weight beside yours. He pulled a soft blanket over you both, tucking it around your shoulders. The room was dim, the only light coming from the dying glow of the laptop.

He pressed another kiss to your cheek, then rested his head on your shoulder, his arm still securely around you. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest against your side. The insecurities hadn't vanished entirely, you knew. They were a persistent shadow, always lurking. But in this moment, bathed in the quiet warmth of Seungmin's love, they felt distant, manageable. They were no longer the defining feature of your existence.

You closed your eyes, a small  smile gracing your lips. The heavy scent of his cologne, the comforting weight of his arm, the steady beat of his heart – these were the anchors that held you. The world of flashing lights and adoring crowds seemed like a dream, a fleeting illusion. This, this quiet intimacy, this profound connection, was reality. And it was beautiful. A soft, contented hum vibrated in your chest, a silent testament to the peace he had brought back to you. He shifted, his hand finding yours, his fingers lacing with yours, a gentle, secure grip that spoke volumes. You felt them trace the faint scars on your wrists. He knows about your past. He helped you through it. You squeezed back, a silent acknowledgement of the love that had saved you from yourself. The night was quiet, save for the soft sounds of their breathing, the gentle rustle of the blanket, and the quiet hum of two hearts beating as one.

***ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғɪᴄs ᴀʀᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴀɪ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴘᴜᴛ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ***

[multifandomxzion]

Phaidei x Moonian! reader pt.8

Anaxa had returned to the bath-house, hoping to either find Mydei, or get a minute to himself before shit hit the fan. unfortunately.. he was met with the first option. Mydei and Phainon were at the hero's bath, but... FIGHTING??

Phainon: Mydei-! *block* *dodge* I dont think this counts as training anymore! *block* It seems your- *dodge* trying to actually fight me!

Mydei: SHUT UP AND FIGHT BACK! DELIVERER!

Phainon: Woah! *dodge* Mydei what's gotten into you!?

Anaxa shoots a equation out of his gun, which unleashes fireworks, catching phaidei off guard

Anaxa: Mydeimos! Phainon! Cease whatever this is at once!

Phainon: Euh...

Mydei: ...

----------------- Later, in the Vortex of Genesis

Phainon: I'm not sure why you insist we talk Aglaea, I mean, we talk all the time! If something was going on with Mydei, I'd know! He wouldn't hide things from me!

Aglaea: So you think. Phainon, when you decided to give that ring to reader, what was going through your mind?

Phainon: Well, I wanted to show them how grateful I was for their service in a personal way that would resonate well with them! A ring seemed perfect!

Aglaea: What about Mydei, he brought a ring aswell

Phainon: heh, we always did think alike!

Aglaea: Phainon, Do you like reader, is that the real reason you got the ring?

Phainon: Huh, a little sudden but besides my liking towards reader I did mean to give them that ring as some symbol of appreciation!

Aglaea stares at Phainon, first eyeing him up and down before waving her hand in a single circular motion, signaling him to rethink his words.

Phainon: What?? I'm being truthful, I mean of course I like reader, their very attractive in many ways but again, I did give them the ring to-

....

Ohhh

Oh... no..

I.. I like reader..

I LIKE READER!

Aglaea breathes a sigh of relief, glad to see that Phainon finally realizes his.. obvious feelings for reader

Mydei: Aglaea.

At the sound of Mydei's voice, Aglaea mouths a good luck to Phainon before she leaves, giving them both space

Phainon: Mydei there you are! ..what's going on?

Mydei: ...

Phainon: Mydei..?

Mydei doesn't say anything at first, striding over to the fountain in the middle of the room.

Phainon: Mydei.. what's going o-

Mydei: I'm in love with you.

Phainon: ...... I'm sorry-?

Mydei: Damnit Phainon, I'm in love with you! I-I Have been for.. I-I cant even count how long! You've always been their for me! after.. everything I put you through! Every meltdown, every time I've said something harsh to you out of projection, everything! You've accepted me at my lowest! You've proven to me time and fucking time that you.. you care! Even when I kept trying to find reasons you don't.. I... Fucking.. Fuck! I love you damnit!

Phainon: I... wow... why didn't you tell me anything sooner..?

Mydei: I know we agreed to be more honest with each other.. but this.. was too personal. Too much to put into words.. I couldn't stand the thought of telling you and... being abandoned. You know of my past.. and I'm not sure of my future.. I simply couldn't tell you.. but.. seeing you with reader.. the way you got this.. sparkle in your eyes simply being near their presence.. the way you spoke of them.. it.. it hurt. Could you even begin to process, loving someone so much, and hearing them speak of another with.. such enthusiasm, such.. adoration.. it irritates you, pierces the very heart you bleed with..

Phainon chuckles, catching Mydei off guard, if not making him a lil annoyed

Phainon: Aww, Mydei~.. you were jealous of me?

Mydei slightly nods his head, looking away only for Phainon to move his hands to Mydei's cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet

Phainon: I'm not mad at you Mydeimos.. I would be upset with you for not telling me sooner but.. I understand not wanting to. This.. was something too much, even for you. I can see why you hid it for so long.. you've been through so much that it feel's easier to hide, but, at the same time, I can tell you've been trying. I'm very proud of you Mydei, even if you still back track from time to time, your not gonna change overnight, but it helps that you've been trying little by little. Love is a slippery slide, its nowhere near as easy as some make it out to be, infact its one of the hardest thing's someone can go through..

Phainon kisses Mydei on the forehead

Phainon: If you would allow me, I would love to help ease the aching pain you have.. If we take care of something first

Mydei: What do you mean?

Phainon: You like reader aswell.. don't you?

Mydei: !!!... I...

Phainon: The ring, Mydei. I knew as soon as I saw it

Mydei: I.. I do like them.. but I love you too, I felt like I had to make a choice and.. well I chose you.

Phainon: What if you don't have to choose?

Mydei: What?!

Phainon: To tell you the truth, I also have feelings for reader, which.. complicates things, yes.. But, I'm sure there is something from their world about having more than one partner

Mydei: But that's not even heard of in our world, what if we end up being the first.. more-than-one person relationship

Phainon: Then we're just the first, that's all

Mydei: But.. there's no way reader would agree to something like that!

Phainon: Maybe, maybe not, wont know until we try

Phainon flashes his usual cheeky smile, trying to light up the atmosphere. All Mydei can do is just, cradle himself in Phai's arms

Mydei: If reader says no.. can we still just love each other..?

Phainon: Of course, Mydeimos, I love you

Mydei: I love you too<3

this acc made me sob s bit writing this.. *sniff*

Next

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[thesafireartist]

Symbol my favourite girl ever and the most hedgehog to ever exist I love you and you are amazing and fantastic and you are now both Saiya’s and my favourite person in the universe you beautiful child 💕💖✨💗🫶💞✨

There’s a limit for tags? Dang

@thesafireartist

your tags are killing me/lh

Originally I only had the first sketch page and then a rough one of the dress, but then I was like "you know what? Saiya deserves the coloured version" but I only had the energy for a messy coloured version

But yeah, don't tell Symbol that, she is the local 7 y.o. that is obsessed with princesses and would go crazy on a princess makeover and begged Mana to borrow a dress from her

[justanotherfluffreader]

ITS THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN

BABY JAEHEE !!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANG JAEHEE WE LOVE YOU

[yuechicake]

Xiu daydreaming on company time (ft. Peony from @peonysgreenhouse)

(commissioned from Sarah)

[rose022]

watching a show with bland male protagonist and seeing him fumble the hot and cool girl... not fair. I WOULDVE TREATED YOU BETTER!!! HE DOESNT DESERVE YOU!!!

[starcatchingsnake]

Pabeldnshaonwjspshsisjnd

Yes.

I am obsessed with the fact that Michael Schur has done the same exact pairing of sunshine protagonist x anxious storm cloud love interest for 4 different shows now and it is wonderful every single time

(The love interest’s level of anxiety also increases with every iteration)