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i-love-ptv · 14 days ago

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Hand Prints and Good Grips…✱*.:｡✧

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Childhood Best friend!Reader

Trouble brews once Mary walks into the twins’ juke joint, and you just wanna be the girl Elias likes.

wc: 6,103

warnings: porn with lots of plot, jealous!dom!Elias, sub!reader, clit slapping, face-sitting, cunnilingus, unprotected p-in-v, dirty-talk, degradation (not tew much but it’s there), overstimulation (r receiving), rough sex, manhandling, slight tit sucking/licking, marking, creampie (gulp??), language, one klan mention, shitty southern writing

an: HEY GUYS!!! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER WOOHOO! (ignore how it took me a month to make it, i’ve been going thru it man) i’m literally obsessed w sinners so hopefully i did stack justice! do y’all even read these? anyways

feedback is always appreciated n welcomed <3

Your hair was starting to cling onto your forehead as if you were drenched in sticky molasses.

The air was humid and dry; of course, this was a Mississippi custom, but it doesn’t help that there’s dozens of bodies stomping and prancing around.

Though you can’t complain much, considering that you were right here with them—dancing as if you hadn’t in years.

In a way, you haven't. You haven’t felt a rush of autonomy and euphoria quite like this before.

With everyone being nothing but working busy-bodies, there’s been little to no time to plan big events such as tonight. The lack of excitement has been a major factor too.

Hence why as soon as the Moore twins came back into town with the intention to open up their very own juke joint, everyone was on board.

The pair hadn’t been seen here in seven years.

Seven long, cruel years without the twin you’ve grown to love.

Stack.

Well, he was Stack to everyone else. But to you? He was still Elias. Your ‘Lias.

Seven years without his lingering touches and pearly smiles.

You weren’t the only one that missed him, it seems.

Your sister told you that when she went down near the train station, she was right there waiting for your Elias.

Mary was waiting.

You don’t have a clue as to how she knew he was coming home before you did, considering that nobody from the Delta had heard from him except for you. And a letter from him was rather rare.

Mary had nearly thrown a fit once she saw him; it didn’t help that Elias had turned down her persistent advances.

The lack of contact obviously sent her over the edge.

Apparently she mentioned their former relations; their connection being a secret to none.

You were envious of this; never jealous, but overcome by a feeling of want.

Growing up with the twins meant that the three of you were as close as can be. That being said, though, they looked at you as if you were their little sister. It was fine when Elijah assumed the role of a family member, but Elias?

Just thinking about it makes your heart ache.

You longed for the flirtatious remarks that he’d give off to any and every woman, a night filled with intimacy plagued your mind constantly.

But you got over it.

You had to. Not only for the sake of your friendship with Elias, but also because of his prolonged absence from town.

That’s why tonight—right now, you had to pump the breaks and focus on celebrating the twins’ success.

Speaking of success?

You making your way over to the bar with your wobbly heeled-covered feet was a success. Surprisingly.

“Someone’s been dancin’ a lil too hard, huh?” Annie chortles, looking at you with nothing but sisterly-love, and a bit of amusement.

“Only dancin’ I was doing was during my cooking—nothin’ like this in a while,” you exclaim with bliss through a beaming smile. You huff as you sit down in front of the bar. “Y’got anythin’ good back here?” You motion to the bottles Annie has surrounding her.

“Better than good,” Annie replies before ducking down and searching below the counter.

You brace your hands on the counter and slightly peer over at the woman, but then she pops up quicker than you can plop back down onto your chair. She quirks a brow at you before placing a bottle down in front of you.

“What’s this?” You question; if Annie didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that it was Christmas morning with the way you were looking at the bottle.

“Authentic Irish beer; straight from the north side of Chicago. Different from the rest they’re sellin’.” She replies. “Your man brought it specifically for you—made me promise I wouldn’t give it to nobody else, no matter how much they was payin’.”

You bite back a smile at her words; you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“He fixin’ to be Mary’s.” Your lips straighten, it’s bittersweet.

“That so? ‘Cause that ain’t what I heard,” Annie muses, making you pause. You savor Annie’s words as if they were your holy grail. Was there a chance that Elias looked at you the same as you did him?

You crane your neck and your gaze is set over your shoulder—over at him.

He catches your eye and he gives you a cheeky smile, to which you return rather eagerly.

You hadn’t had a single nonchalant bone in your body it seems.

Your shared staring was cut short as Mary forced Elias’ attention back onto her, but it wasn’t exactly a hard task for her.

Something about her was just so easy and simple, despite the ring shining on her hand that matched another man’s being anything but simple. The way that they connected even after all these years made you feel as if you swallowed a jar of mud.

After a few sips of beer, you can’t help but let a smile rest on your face. Elias knew you’d love it, and it makes your heart dance.

Speaking of dancing, your dearest friend Pearline struts up to you with a grin that soared for miles.

“What’s got you cheesin’ all hard?” You raise your eyebrows at her, making her giggle.

“Y’know the Preacher’s boy? The one that was just singin’?” Pearline’s nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement.

“Lil’ Sammie Moore? Course I do, why? What’d you do Pearl?” You gape at her and hold her hands tightly in yours.

“Well…” She trails off. “Let’s just say, he showed me he ain’t a boy, but a real man.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of the sockets as you exclaim a Pearline! that could probably be heard for miles.

Pearline gushes, “He made me feel things I ain’t never felt before.”

“Not even with your mister?” You gasp.

“Not even close. And that’s not all,” she pauses before looking around, then leaning in towards you.

“I wasn’t even able to freshen up. He didn’t want me to,” Pearline whispers.

You shout, then look around in embarrassment at your outburst; you shake Pearline vigorously by her shoulders and giggle some more.

You decide to look around the joint, and you coincidentally catch Sammie looking right at the back of Pearline’s frame in utter awe.

You nudge Pearline, and she looks over at him with you. The look that she throws his way is nothing short of flirtatious.

“He looked at ya like he wanted t’take a bite,” you snicker.

Pearline looks at you mischievously, “Funny, considerin’ he already did.” You can’t help but laugh.

“So, y’thinkin’ bout singin’ like he said?” You ask.

Pearline hums, “Maybe. ‘M thinkin’ you should too.”

“No, not happenin’. Not a chance,” You scoff playfully.

Pearline whines and grabs your wrists. “C’mon, sista! When’s the last time you got the chance to do this?” She pouts, and tries hardest to make puppy-dog eyes at you.

“Besides, this could be y’chance to make a move on Stack. Ain't that whatcha been waitin’ for?” She drags.

You falter at the question she poses.

“Tonight’s the night, sista.” Pearline murmurs softly.

It’s crazy how you always get in your head when it comes to him.

The thing is, you weren’t one to throw yourself out there just to entertain a man. No, that just wasn’t your style.

But God—tonight? His suit was fitting snug in all the right places, his grills glimmered dangerously in the dim lighting, and his eyes always found yours, recklessly.

You couldn’t resist Elias Moore.

And right now, you’re starting to wonder if you ever could.

“Y’better wrap that scarf on tight, Pearl,” you say as you grab her arm and start walking with her to the front. Pearline shrills and claps her hands with glee.

You saunter towards the stage with a pep in your step and your arm linked with a perky Pearline. Your heels clack on the wooden floors as you come face-to-face with the band and none other than Delta Slim, who’s now grinning at you.

“Been tryin’ to getcha to sing for years girl, what’s with the change o’ heart?” He questions with a smirk, as if he already knew the answer. You’re sure that he did with the way that his eyes looked past you and towards Elias.

“It’s a nice night, figured I’d try sum different,” you shrug, trying to mask your sudden embarrassment. Pearline intertwines her hand with yours and uses her other one to gesture to the band. You inhale deeply while looking at her; she gives you a look of reassurance.

The patrons of the juke joint grow silent at the sight of you two taking your stances and the band readying their instruments.

Pearline starts humming and you lightly stomp your feet on the stage, starting to form a beat as the band follows.

Elias feels as if his heart was being weighed down by a ton inside of him. He held his breath—scared that the rise and fall of his chest would make him miss the steady view of you: parading around as if everything outside the joint had come to a halt.

You looked completely, and utterly divine up there; moving swiftly and effortlessly, as if you owned the very ground you were stepping on.

You were absolutely ethereal in Elias’ eyes.

And he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t falling even harder for his sugar as of right now. He was the only man that could get away with calling you sugar; he knows it, so does everyone else in the Delta—and Elias can’t help but let his pride swell every time he thinks about it.

Your body sways carelessly as if you were one with the words that escaped your lips, but your eyes are grounded—powerful, even. Speaking of them: your glittering orbs meet his, your gaze nothing short of a vixen’s.

Though, the interlocking of your sights is interrupted when Mary makes her presence known yet again at Elias’ side. He can’t help but sigh at the intrusion.

Luckily, Elias’ ever-growing agitation fades when the patrons of the juke let out their elation around him. The band’s playing picks up, as well as you and Pearline’s voices.

Don’t let it shine, shine, shine once more

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

Everyone chants and stomps rhythmically.

“I wanna sing, like I hear the crickets do,” Pearline sings seductively while peering at Sammy as she struts.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna hoo,” you and Pearline sing simultaneously, harmonizing beautifully as your backs meet and you both slide to a crouching position.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna howl,” the two of you sound as if you were straight out of a folktale—like one of those myths of the sirens that Annie had explained to Elias once before. You and Pearline then reside in a crawl as you look at the crowd with a sense of hunger in your eyes.

Mary gets ahold of Elias’ tie, but he quickly removes her grip from him—without even breaking eye contact with you. He knows she’s interested in spending the rest of the night with him; maybe in hopes of rekindling an old flame.

But how could Elias be interested in another woman when his woman—his sugar—was looking at him so deliciously.

You grin slyly at him, biting your bottom lip before licking your teeth.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna scream,” Pearline sings, as you mouth the three words to Elias.

Three little words that have Elias fucking mesmerized, hypnotized even. You have him in a trance, right where you want him, and you both know it.

Elias wishfully thinks that the pick up in your breathing isn’t just from all the dancing you’ve been doing tonight. He bites his lip at the thoughts running through his mind.

Mary can’t even say that she recognizes the look that Elias gives you, for she has never been on the receiving end like you have been. Her frustration and jealousy boils over, and she eventually huffs before walking away from Elias, and out of the juke joint.

Elias doesn’t mind one bit, and he sure as hell doesn’t when the song finishes and you hug Pearline with excitement as the joint nearly turns upside down. You’re jumping up and down and Elias can’t help but smile til his cheeks hurt.

Elias feels a hand slap somewhat roughly on his shoulder. He knows good and well it’s his brother, with or without the wave of tobacco radiating.

“Came out here after the game finished, saw the way she was lookin’ at’cha, too.” Elijah grumbles.

“Breathtakin’, ain’t she?” Elias remarks breathily, not even turning to his brother—keeping his sights on you, as you hug Slim and the rest of the instrument players.

“Not ‘bout how I feel, ‘s ‘bout how you feel,” Elijah sighs. This makes Elias turn towards his brother.

“Don’t know what’chu waitin’ on, already been years,” Elijah then pauses before continuing, “Don’t be surprised when somebody see what’chu see.” Elijah trails off, almost ominously, and nods his head in your direction.

Elias follows his twin’s trail of sight and spots you: talking to a man he ain’t even seen before. You were beaming, your hair a little frizzed up by the humidity, your lipgloss smudged a little onto your shimmering skin.

Speaking of your lipgloss—whoever you’re talking to decided to rub his finger below your lip to wipe it away. Right now, Elias’ demeanor resembles the snake him and his brother killed earlier: cold and unmoving.

You glance around the sea of bodies, and Elias takes this as a sign. He starts to walk up to you, but not before having to mumble several ‘excuse me’s while side-stepping quite a few people—who seem to not be able to hold their liquor.

He finally reaches you, and he gets a glimpse of you over the guy’s shoulder, who has no idea he’s even there.

“We got a problem?” Elias murmurs, making the stranger nearly jump out of his skin.

“N-nah man,” the man chuckles awkwardly as he faces Elias.

“I reckon we do, since y’talkin’ to my lady,” Elias replies, sizing him up as he takes a step closer to him. The man takes a step back in return.

“I ain’t know, I-I’m sorry, Stack,” the man trembles meekly. Elias only hums. The man glances between the two of you before making himself scarce.

Elias stays in the same spot for a beat, before turning and giving you a look that says let’s go, before walking towards one of the back rooms of the joint. You hesitate, before inching behind him.

“So I’m y’lady now?” You don’t bother to tone down the sass in your voice.

“‘S what I said, ain’t it?” he mumbles, not even looking at you.

You scoff, “Yeah, well, y’got a funny way a’ showin’ it.”

Elias pulls you into a dimly lit room and finally faces you as you stand before him. “What’s that s’possed to mean?”

You narrow your eyes at him before speaking. “Means I saw you messin’ with ole Mary.”

“She don’t mean nun to me,” Elias guaffs. “Why d’ya think she left already?”

You roll your eyes and begin to head out the door you just came from. You’re not sure where this attitude just came from, in all honesty. The moment your eyes met him while you were on stage, it felt as if everything else had faded away, and it was just the two of you.

Maybe it was the irritation caused by Mary that left you in a sour mood now, you’re not sure. You know it won’t be beneficial to you nor Elias in this moment, but you can’t help it.

Elias grabs your wrist before you can get too far away from him.

“She ain’t nun, y’hear?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he almost sounded desperate. You stay quiet.

“Asked you a question, sugar. ‘N with that attitude of yours, I ain’t fixin’ to repeat myself.” His lips ghost the shell of your ear as he speaks, and heat twinges through your stomach. Elias seems to take notice of the subtle switch in your demeanor; he smirks and his chocolate brown irises darken even further.

“I…I don’t believe you,” You almost whisper, but still meet his gaze.

Almost immediately, he responds with, “What I got to do to convince you, baby?” Elias matches your tone, but there’s still a hint of assertiveness conveyed through his words.

You don’t speak—it’s almost like you couldn’t, but you release your wrist from his grasp gently.

Elias’ jaw clenched slightly, but you still spot it. He looks as if he’s pondering his next words.

“‘S not makin’ sense, darlin’. I mean, you were acting like a whore on stage, now you don’t want me to touch you?” He cocks his head at you and your lips part—like it was reflex, and maybe it was. Elias clicks his tongue.

Your breath picks up, and if your mind weren’t turning fuzzy, you would’ve chided yourself for making a fool out of yourself in front of a man—Elias at that.

The man you’ve yearned for longer than you can even remember.

“I ain’t no whore,” you speak, finally regaining your senses.

“That right, sugar?” You can feel Elias’ breath on your heated face, and all you can do is nod in return.

“Y’wanna know what I think?” Before you can answer the question Elias poses, he murmurs lowly, “I think that deep down….You are a whore—and you needa be fucked like one.”

Despite the vulgarity of his words, the way that Elias places his palm across your cheek is soft—loving, even.

You press your thighs together through your dress unconsciously, desperately seeking even an ounce of friction to cool the impending heat between your legs.

Elias takes the hand that rested upon your cheek and moved it to the stiff rim lock that resided on the door’s surface.

Thank god—You’d hate for the likes of someone such as Sammie barging in and being witness to sin hotter than the Mississippi sun.

Elias then starts to walk you back to the table that remained bare in the dingy-lit room, removing his suit jacket and vest, followed by his tie. The backs of your knees meet the edge of the firm table, making you stumble just a bit. Elias takes it upon himself to lay you down onto the table.

You rest on your elbows as you look up at the six-foot-something man in front of you, and you can’t help but swoon. His beating eyes look down at you lustfully—almost as if he were a predator, and you his prey.

It made you weak.

Weak at the hands of a man you’d been waiting on while he had the time of his life in Chicago, with all sorts of Italian customs. Your actions are beyond halfwitted, but you make no effort to straighten yourself out anymore.

Elias takes his warm hands and spreads your knees with ease after unbuttoning his shirt, making you yelp involuntarily at the near-abrasiveness. He licks his grillz and lets out a short, deep chuckle; you feel it vibrate your bones, while he aligns himself so that almost he’s eye-level with your warm core.

“Elias, wait—“ You whimper meekly,

He hums disapprovingly, letting out a firm ‘mm-mmn’. He rips his gaze from your thighs to your eyes, “Been waitin’ for years, sugar, not sure if I can any longer.” He repositions his hands, lifting your dress and hitching it up to your upper thighs, nearly to your pelvic bone.

Elias massages your thighs with an iron grip, it’s not yet rough, but not exactly gentle either. His switch between the two is making your mind reel.

He kisses up from your knee almost to where your dress bunches up as he removes his button-up, leaving him in his undershirt. He then says, “…So, m’sorry if I lose m’manners,” he breathes hotly against your skin, “But I don’t think I can live without destroying this pussy for a minute longer.” He damn near groans.

His mouth hovers above your clothed cunt—he purposely breathes in a way that makes you squirm at the feeling you’re unable to run from. As you shudder and tilt your head back, you suddenly hear a rip and you feel a gust of air.

You gasp and look down, where you’re met with Elias looking up at you cheekily, with one half of your panties in his mouth, and the other in his hand.

“‘Lias!” You exclaim.

Elias feigns innocence, “Told ya I ain’t mean no harm.” He then averts his focus to your legs, and he leaves a kiss to your mound.

“Y’not gon let me freshen up, will ya?” You ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

Instead of answering, Elias takes his tongue and trails it from your hole to your clitoris, and you puff out the air you didn’t know you were holding in.

Elias seems to enjoy your reaction, for he then gives you another long lick.

And another,

and another,

and you guessed it, another.

You press your lips together, muting your sounds, and Elias ‘tsk’s at the sight.

He nips a bit of the skin next to your lips, making you choke on your own spit. “Don’t like how quiet you’re bein’.” Elias reprimands you.

“Stop t-teasin’ then,” You manage to huff.

Elias chuckles in disbelief, “Wanted to be gentle, but y’makin’ it hard,” he then lifts you up from the table, and places his back where you once laid. He hooks your legs over the sides of his head, your pussy now inches away from his plump, shining lips.

Elias’ typical, million-dollar smirk is back on his face, but there’s something more sinister behind it—your legs would’ve buckled if he weren’t holding them.

“You’re a whore, jus’ like I said y’were.” His southern drawl makes your stomach twist in knots, despite the familiarity. Before you could get a word out, Elias placed you onto his face.

You mewl at the feeling of his tongue swirling around anywhere, and everywhere.

Your clit, your lips—it was almost as if he were starving.

There was no rhythm, no harmony and contentment, just the actions of a man on a mission.

A mission to make you scream louder than the birds on your farm.

Then, abruptly, Elias leaves a small, yet firm slap to your clit. “Admit it,” he says between licks. “Admit that you’re a whore.” He leaves another slap.

You don’t respond, too caught up in both the pain and pleasure. Your head hangs back and your eyes are clenched shut, and Elias grows impatient.

He removes his mouth from you with a ‘pop’ and almost snarls at you, “Thought I told ya Ion like repeatin’ myself.” He slaps your clit again, this time with more force.

“Okay—Okay! I was bein’ a whore tonight, ‘m sorry!” You cry out as your back arches.

Elias starts to lower you towards his grinning face, and you shiver at the feeling of his cold grillz.

Instead of teasing kitten-licks, Elias sucks at your slit and lets his tongue roam freely, without a care in the world. You writhe and whine on top of him, your body bending back and creating a dull aching sensation.

His advances are relentless, and you have no chances of escaping his grasp; he readjusts his grip as soon as he feels you start to slip away from him. You don’t know whether to clench around his tongue as he fucks you with it, or to cry–you end up doing both, and this continues on for who knows how long.

You’ve stopped counting the number of orgasms you’ve had after the second one–you think–but you think Elias has been keeping track. He’s muttered ‘jus’ one more, sugar’ maybe three times now, and you don’t know how many you have left in you at this point.

After what feels like hours, Elias finally lifts your hips up, allowing you to slide down and straddle his hips with your head resting upon his chest.

The beating sound of his steady heart fills your ear, and you try to match your breathing with Elias’. You feel a vibration as he shakes with laughter. You slightly drag your head up just enough to peek at his face, and he looks down at you with amusement.

“We ain’t done, not yet, peach,” he chuckles breathily at the wave of surprise that washes over your face.

You fumble with your words, “What d’ya mean? ‘L-Lias, I-I’m spent!” You continue to tremble in his arms.

“Y’still talkin’, ain’t ya, sugar?” He scoffs, it’s antagonizing. And before you can utter anything else, Elias flips you around onto the table, so you now lay with your back on the wood once again. Your dress rides down a tad at the sudden movement, and Elias holds your back, lifting you so that he can push your dress up past your breasts.

Elias lowers your back, before leaning peck your nipples. You bite your lip, but quickly let out a moan once he blows air onto your nipples, watching almost menacingly as they harden. One hand tweaks one of your nipples, as the other drags down your rib cage.

His hot, glistening tongue swishes around your tits, as he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

He sucks harshly as you whimper beneath him. One of his hands leaves your body and goes down to his slacks, he unbuttons them with ease without even looking, as he continues to leave hickies on your chest.

He untucks himself from his underwear, and you can’t help but buck towards his cock in anticipation.

“Easy, girl. You’ll get it when ya prove y’deserve it,” Elias mocks, you whine in response.

“I deserve it, more than anybody else–y’know that, ‘Lias,” You plead in hopes of him giving you what you want.

“That right, baby? All this yours, nobody else's?” He challenges, starting to stroke his length.

You squeeze your eyelids together, almost as if you were personally pained by the question.

“Damn right,” You huff as you look at him with a sudden wave of fire blazing through your eyes. Elias scoffs with a mixture of incredulity and mirth.

“Yeah, baby–always been yours. Glad ya finally came to y’senses.” And with that, Elias pushes inside of you, and you let out a broken gasp.

Elias quickly finds his pace as he thrusts in and out of you rapidly. He nearly pulls entirely out of your dripping cunt–and you think he’s going to tease you again, but he then slams back into you roughly, making you cry out as your back arches into him.

You’re now chest-to-chest with Elias as he continues to pump into you with little regard to your overstimulation. The contact of skin makes your toes curl in your heels. Elias grunts at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock and bites forcibly at the flesh of your neck.

Elias groans–almost as if fucking you were the key to heaven’s gates. He takes his large palm and pushes it down onto your torso, making your sweating body meet the barely-covered, rumbling wood.

You weep helplessly and squirm as he keeps you pressed against the shaking table.

“Mmnf–”Lias! Please!” You cry yet again, but without knowing the reason behind it this time.

He doesn’t respond to your watery blabbering, instead putting your legs on either side of his shoulders. Elias slowly–and almost lovingly–kisses your ankle, before unclasping the latch of your heel and sliding it off of your foot, letting it hit the floor with a thump that neither of you seem to catch through the sounds of your bodies meeting.

You two damn-near become one.

He repeats his actions on your other leg, but this time he kisses from your calf to your ankle before removing your heel and letting it meet the ground with your matching one.

His hand grips at the ankle he just kissed, using it as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded; like an anchor. He then sucks and nips at your leg, quickly marking just above your ankle with a red bruise, which you know will be purple by the time the sun rises for morning.

You hiss when he bites a little too roughly, and he shows his sympathy by licking at the irritated skin, soothing the tender ache.

“That feel good, darlin’? Tell “Lias how much y’love it, peach, c’mon,” Elias coos, lifting his shirt up so he can get a proper view of your sex.

You babble through sobs intelligibly, mewling something along the lines of ‘so so good, ‘Lias!’—at least that’s what Elias makes of it.

“Can’t hear ya, baby. Ya gotta–fuck! Ya gotta speak a ‘lil louder f’me, hm?” Elias manages to speak through his panting and groaning. You bawl, hot tears dripping from your cheeks down to your chin.

“It feels so good–oh god—‘Lias!” You shriek, not caring about the volume of your crying. “Please don’t stop! Please, please, please–” You ramble with a slur.

If Elias ever felt guilty at the way he man-handling you, seeing your fucked-out expression made all his worries wash away at the sight of you: tongue hanging out, as your tears dribble into your open mouth.

Your panting grows more frantic, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s being let out more frequently as you feel another orgasm course through your veins. “‘Lias—cummin’! S-sh-it, I-I’m cummin’!”

Elias firmly plants his feet on the floor, repositioning the arm on your stomach onto your other leg so that he can fuck you even deeper–deep enough to create a slight bulge in your stomach with his throbbing tip. “Yeah, that’s it. Fall apart on this dick, y’know y’want to, sugar. Been dreamin’ ‘bout it f’years, huh?” He taunts.

You try to answer him, honestly! But he’s hitting your cervix just right and his abs rub against the backs of your thighs–it’s too much.

Elias thought you’ve learned by now that he doesn’t take silence for an answer, so to remind you, he gives your spent cunt a more forceful slap than before.

“Fuck—Yes! A-always been wantin’ you, ‘Lias,” you wail. “I-I never let nobody touch me! Nobody but you!” You exclaim without thinking.

This fuels Elias to quicken his pace; he almost fucking growls at your words, and he tightens your legs around himself–right now, as he feels himself getting closer and closer to climaxing, he has no plans on pulling out.

He continues to heave words of encouragement as fucks you ruthlessly through your orgasm.

You moan and blabber as your vision turns white, and your ears start to ring. Your toes curl and flex, and your nails scratch at the table, hands desperate for something to hold. Your voice then gives out, as your tongue lolls out of your mouth yet again.

Elias gives you a few more earth-stattering thrusts, before his seed fills your puffy, aching hole; the guttural groan that leaves his throat ups in pitch–nearly turning into a whimper.

He pumps his cum into you once more, before releasing your legs from his grip and laying down on top of you. As he half-lays-half-stands against the table, he feels as if a cold bucket of water was dumped onto him.

He can no longer focus on the tingling feeling that shoots from his skull to his toes, but now on the fact that he was the first man you’ve been with.

You spent your first time with him–in a rickety building he bought from a Klan member, on an even dingier table.

Elias then taps your face, just enough to get you to come back to your senses. You open your eyes with a lazy grin at the feeling of his seed mixed with yours, but when you’re met with his panicky expression, you quickly push yourself up–to the best of your ability.

“What? Wha’s wrong, ‘Lias?” You question worrisomely.

He allows himself to catch his breath before speaking, “Y’serious?” It’s all that he says.

You furrow your brows and tilt your head at him, “Bout what? Y’scarin’ me, Elias,” you chuckle awkwardly.

Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

A million thoughts run rampant throughout your mind.

“‘Bout all this,” he flails his hand, motioning to where your bodies had just met. “Was that really ya first time?” He speaks loudly, and you feel mortified.

Your breath catches in your throat. You confirm his worries, your voice softer than a freshly picked feather, “Yes.”

Elias takes a step back, and it takes everything in you not to reach out for him. Instead, you sit up fully and push your dress back down to your thighs. You twiddle your thumbs idly, seeking for even an ounce of comfort as Elias pushes his shirt back down and tucks himself back into his boxers after wiping himself off with a rag. Despite his glowering, he hands you a rag so that you can wipe away the slick from between your thighs.

Did he regret spending the night with you? Did he find the fact that you remained a virgin because of him embarrassing?

“Why you ain’t tell me, girl?” He exclaims, “I wouldn’t have said and done all that foolishness if I knew you ain't never been with a man before!”

You feel your soul come back into your body. “You would’ve been all sweet with me? That whatcha sayin’, ‘Lias?” You can’t help but giggle.

“Ain’t nothin’ funny, woman! I was all rough with you ‘n–” You cut him off with a kiss to his lips, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer to you. You fold your arms around his neck, and you feel his hands drift down to your waist and squeeze lightly. Your nose nudges his, his breath fans your face as yours does his.

You break the kiss when you feel yourself losing your breath, and you gaze at Elias lovingly.

“You were perfect, I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” you whisper.

“Well for starters, could've gotten you a bed in the house ‘stead of a table in this dark ass room,” Elias grumbles.

You grin, “I think the lightin’ was just fine. Added ambience ‘n all that.” Elias pouts, and you peck his lips.

“I don’t care ‘bout the details, “Lias. Long as it was with you.” Your tone is as sweet as the finest honey in Clarksdale, and it pulls on Elias’ heartstrings.

“Y’really waited all these years….For me?” He whispers.

“Course I did, couldn’t imagine bein’ with anybody else.” You speak just as softly. You recognize the guilt that crosses his face, despite his best efforts to mask it with his bravado. “Don’t feel guilty, please. I don’t blame you for nun.” You caress his hair. Silence fills the room as Elias deciphers what to say, you just hold him tenderly until he’s ready.

“I-I love ya, more than y’know, sugar…” He trails off before finishing his sentence, “I jus’ want ya to know that. I have since we was young.” He looks at you with adoration and love in his eyes.

“I love you too, Elias Moore. Have since you stood up to my daddy on his farm f’me when we was seven.”

He smiles, but it’s tight lipped, making you frown. “Jus’ wish I could’ve admitted it sooner. Then this would’ve went down differently—would’ve been better.” He sulks.

You take your thumb and index finger and pluck his lips, making him shout ‘hey!’ with a laugh.

“Stop beatin’ y’self up, Elias. I told you, I’m perfectly happy here, right now. Ain’t nun gon’ change that a bit.” You scold him.

“If ya stop all that moppin’, I’ll let ya try again tomorrow, however y’want,” you giggle mischievously. Elias’ eyes light up almost immediately, the way he perks up reminds you of a puppy that was just given a treat.

Elias roars with laughter and squeezes you, before lowering you back down onto the table, he presses nearly all of his weight onto you.

You squeal and cackle as he tickles your sides, “‘Lias!”

You lay wrapped up with Elias, you felt as if you could lay there forever, and honestly in this moment, you wanted to.

Clarity and revelations do the body good.

Everything was good.

Until you heard a commotion on the other side of the door.

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xuexing-lumi · 12 days ago

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𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 + 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 (𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬) Pt.1

This isn’t your average love reading. This is about the one, the soul who already exists in your energetic field, even if they haven’t stepped into your life yet.(Spoiler: yes, but not in the way you think).

Close your eyes, take a deep breathe and pick your piles.

💌 Let’s dive into your connections

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 1 𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 2 𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 3

🌟𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 1 : Birthday Cake in a Pink Stamp

Let’s start with the birthday cake. A birthday cake represents celebration, a personal milestone, a moment in time where we honor someone's existence. It is a symbol of arrival, of recognition, and of love made visible. In the context of a soulmate reading, this suggests that your connection is something that is meant to be honored, celebrated, and remembered. But more than that, it carries the vibration of divine timing. You don’t eat birthday cake every day, you wait for the right moment. That moment arrives once a year. This means that the contact with your soulmate is destined to happen at a very specific spiritual “birthday”, an energetic checkpoint that marks a new chapter for both of you.

The cake is also layered. Sweet. Baked with care. It’s not a fast food. It’s not a rushed meal. A birthday cake is lovingly prepared, decorated, and shared. Similarly, this relationship is one that takes time to build. It’s made of layersof past lives, spiritual contracts, karmic resolutions, emotional experiences. You will not arrive at each other half-baked. You are being prepared with intention, and when you meet, the experience will be both nourishing and celebratory.

But then comes the pink stamp. The pink colour represents your heart chakra. The pink color amplifies this message with tones of softness, femininity, romance, healing, innocence, and emotional sincerity. The combination of a birthday cake and a pink stamp suggests this connection is already written, already destined, and already in motion, but it hasn’t been delivered yet. The stamp is on it. The letter is in the post. The universe is delivering it. But divine mail is never tracked and it arrives when the soul is home.

Part 1: How Does Pile 1 Contact Their Soulmate?

(The Emperor, Page of Swords, Ace of Pentacles)

The Emperor: You’re most likely to make contact with your soulmate through a space that’s structured such as work, academia, an institution, or an environment where rules, responsibility, or order are emphasized. This isn't a chaotic or accidental meeting; it happens when you're either stepping into your own authority or are seen as someone who radiates competence and grounded power. There’s a sense that you either are the leader or you attract someone who is. The contact is forged not through vulnerability but through presence and your ability to command attention quietly and confidently. They may first notice your discipline, your sense of purpose, or the way you seem composed in a space where others may waver. There’s also a divine masculine frequency here, regardless of gender its an energy that stands tall, protects, or leads. Your soulmate may be in a role of mentorship, teaching, leadership, or even a uniformed profession or, you may embody those traits for them.

➤ Scenario Possibility: You first catch their attention in a space where everyone else is trying to blend in or follow the crowd, but something about you like your stillness, your focus, your quiet confidence that makes you stand out. You don’t need to shout to be seen. They notice how you move with purpose, and something about your energy makes them pause. Whether you're presenting an idea, managing a project, or simply holding your ground when others hesitate, it’s that quiet strength that begins the invisible thread of interest between you both.

Page of swords: Your first interaction likely begins with a flicker of curiosity, something about them catches your eye, and it lingers in your mind longer than expected. This card leans heavily into digital or intellectual realms, suggesting the initial contact may happen online through social media, a DM, a forum, a comment thread, or even a shared class or webinar. You might not speak right away, but you watch. There’s an air of quiet observation, like each of you is trying to figure the other out from a distance before deciding whether to approach. It’s the mental spark that lights the match here through a post, a quote, an idea, or even a shared opinion that makes you pause and think, "Wait… that was sharp. That was different." One of you reaches out, not with grand romantic gestures, but with a message that feels more like, “You made me think. I had to say something.” You may share interests in something niche, geeky, intellectual, or offbeat like philosophy, books, art critiques, even memes. It begins informally but sticks because the mental engagement feels electric.

➤ Scenario Possibility: You come across something they’ve written or posted maybe it’s a thoughtful caption, an insightful comment, or a niche reference that hits too close to your own interests. Your reaction isn’t, “They’re hot,” but rather, “They’re interesting.” You end up following them or messaging with something casual but intentional, like, “Hey, that post made my brain buzz,” or “Your take on that hit so hard.” YADA YADA YADA. You weren’t looking for anything, but now you’re thinking about them more than you expected. The conversation is light at first ideas, questions, banter, but there’s a tone underneath that both of you start to feel: This is different.

Ace of Pentacles: There’s also a strong theme of sincerity. This moment, it feels real. Like a foundation being poured. Something is offered without pressure, but with intention. It’s a gesture that says, “This could be something. Let’s see where it goes.” The relationship begins to move out of the hypothetical and into the physical. It's not just “vibes” anymore and it’s coffee dates, shared calendars, phone calls, schedules that shift so time can be made for each other.

➤ Scenario Possibility: After a string of meaningful online or intellectual conversations, one of you finally says, “Let’s take this offline.” It could be as simple as a message that says, “Want to grab a coffee sometime?” or “I’d love to hear more about that project in person.” There’s a natural shift from thinking and talking to showing up and doing. Maybe they offer to help you move, attend an event with you, or show up to support something you’re working on. It feels low-pressure but unmistakably real.

🌟𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 2 : Bouquet in a Peach Stamp

A bouquet is not something you make for yourself. It’s something you give. It represents a conscious offering of affection, of beauty, of intention. Unlike wildflowers that grow freely, a bouquet is carefully selected, curated, and wrapped with meaning. There is effort behind it, emotion behind it, and most of all the hope behind it. It’s the kind of thing someone gives when they want to say “I thought of you. I hope this reaches you. I want to be seen by you.” In a soulmate context, this bouquet is likely not your first interaction with them and it comes after something, after waiting, after reflection, or even after distance. It could represent a moment of reunion, the healing of something unspoken, or an act of vulnerability. This is the kind of love that isn’t explosive or chaotic, but chosen, day by day.The stamp indicates that this act of love or this connection is being sent out, carried across time and distance, and it is meant to arrive softly. The universe is delivering something tender here and not loud, not urgent, but quiet and true.

Part 1: How Does Pile 2 Contact Their Soulmate?

(The High Priestess, The Devil, and the Nine of Pentacles)

The High Priestess: the high priestess says the first contact may not even be physical or verbal and it may happen intuitively. You might dream of them before you meet. You may feel a strange pull to someone you’ve never spoken to, or keep catching their name, their birthdate, or songs that remind you of their energy. The High Priestess is you in your most psychic, private, emotionally aware self. You don’t approach them directly and you sense them. You may receive downloads about who they are.

➤ Scenario Possibility: You're sitting in a coffee shop, journaling or reading, and you suddenly feel someone looking at you. You look up with brief eye contact, a flicker of something unexplainable, and they look away. Nothing is said, but your entire body lights up with a sense of recognition. You don’t talk that day. You don’t need to. You both felt it.

The Devil: the devil adds a sharp contrast and suggests that the way you actually reach out to your soulmate will involve a deep gravitational pull. There may be obsession, temptation, lust, and the kind of chemistry that scares you. This could be someone you tried to avoid, someone you told yourself not to want, but you do. The Devil shows that the soul contact could happen through triggers, especially those related to desire, control, or fear. You contact them when you confront your shadows. This might be someone you meet during a moment of personal struggle, when your boundaries are tested, or when you’re facing patterns you thought you outgrew. You might feel bound to them before you ever speak. Your first contact could be emotionally overwhelming or addictive in nature.

➤ Scenario Possibility: You meet them at a party, or in a work setting where you’re not “supposed” to feel what you feel. There’s tension. Prolonged eye contact. A flirtation you try to brush off. But it lingers. You can’t stop thinking about them afterwards wondering why they got under your skin so easily. You try to suppress it, but the temptation always returns.

The Nine of Pentacles: This card shows that you truly contact your soulmate when you’re standing in your power, feeling self-sufficient, abundant, radiant. Unlike the Devil's pull or the High Priestess’s subtle signals, the Nine of Pentacles is conscious, embodied confidence. You don’t chase, you attract. Your contact is initiated not through force, but by being seen as someone who knows their worth. You might post something online that draws their attention. You might walk into a room glowing from within, and they finally approach or maybe you finally decide you're no longer afraid of being seen. That’s when the interaction actually begins. You’ve been in the same orbit long enough. Now it’s time to meet.

➤ Scenario Possibility: You’re at an event or somewhere public looking beautiful, dressed in something that makes you feel powerful, having worked hard on your healing and independence. You’re not looking for anyone, but you catch their attention. This time, they walk over. “I feel like I’ve seen you before,” they say.

🌟𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 3 : Butterfly in a Baby Pink Stamp

The butterfly is perhaps the most iconic symbol of transformation, rebirth, and soul evolution. But in this image, it’s not flying freely in a field, it’s enclosed inside a stamp, and the stamp itself is baby pink. This suggests that your soulmate journey is one of tender awakening. You (or your person) may have undergone a deep, painful transformation, something like the emotional cocoon that forces you to shed your past self. This is not a casual kind of change. It's the kind of soul journey where you die metaphorically and are reborn as someone new. But what makes this imagery unique is the tone of it is baby pink, which is a color of sweetness, softness, emotional innocence, and renewed hope. Where other connections may be heavy or magnetic or karmic, Pile 3’s connection is healing. It's the love that comes after the war. It's the feeling of discovering that gentleness can still exist after chaos. This is a soulmate who doesn’t arrive to complete you, but to mirror who you’ve become after you survived yourself.

Part 1: How Does Pile 3 Contact Their Soulmate?

(Two of Cups, King of Cups, and Six of Swords)

Two of Cups: The Two of Cups shows that the first contact is based on an unspoken understanding that you are meant for each other, even if you don’t yet know why or how. This is love at first recognition, not necessarily love at first sight. You may meet your soulmate in an emotionally intimate environment through a conversation that feels instantly comforting, vulnerable, or strangely safe. The Two of Cups isn't about dramatic entrances.It's the beginning of someone truly seeing you not just for who you are, but who you’re becoming.

➤ Scenario Possibility:You meet them at a small gathering, not expecting anything magical. You’re sitting beside them, maybe talking about something light like art, movies, life and then something shifts. Their voice steadies. Your gaze lingers. There's a mutual pause. (like a spiritual contact)

The King of Cups: This card shows that your connection doesn’t begin with wild impulsive action, but with someone (you or them) who has learned to manage deep emotional waters. You contact your soulmate when you are calm within yourself, emotionally ready, and receptive. It might be through comforting words, or offering support to them or vice versa. There's a possibility your soulmate has been quietly observing you from afar, waiting for the right time to open their heart or maybe you offer the first words, but they're so emotionally grounded that the interaction feels like home.

➤ Scenario Possibility:Maybe you’re both volunteers at an event, or colleagues on a quiet project. You’re not necessarily seeking anything. But one day, something in your demeanor draws them in is your stillness, your grace. They ask you a gentle, deep question likeone you’ve never been asked before. You give a vulnerable answer without overthinking it.

The Six of Swords: It shows that contact is made after movement like physical, emotional, or spiritual. Either you or your soulmate will have recently moved on from a painful chapter: an old love, a trauma, or even a period of isolation. You contact them when you’re transitioning from one identity into another when you're still healing, but no longer anchored to the past. This card often indicates a literal or emotional journey that precedes your meeting. Perhaps you meet while traveling, relocating, or after finally cutting ties with something that kept your heart unavailable. The connection may start subtly, like a soft offer of company during uncertain times.

➤ Scenario Possibility:You’ve just left a toxic friendship or finished a long chapter of solitude. Maybe you're in a new city, or even on a solo trip. You meet your soulmate in a quiet, transitional space on a ferry (or maybe you dream of being on one), in a quiet bookstore, or after a support group. They don’t rush into your life. They simply sit beside you in that in-between moment and let their presence say: “You’re not alone anymore.”

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spiderb00 · 5 months ago

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- BACK TO HIGH SCHOOL

Sophia Laforteza x reader | (request)

"You and Sophia hate each other, but maybe it's not quite like that..."

Genre – Fluff Warnings – Not reviewed (sorry, I'm sleepy)

Now playing – Still Into You, by Paramore

A sigh of breath came from your lips as soon as you parked your car in front of the house of one of your childhood friends. The moonlight illuminated part of the street and when you turned off the headlights of your car everything seemed to have become a little more tense. Getting out of the car, you took a deep breath, bottle of red wine in hand to at least say that you brought something to the small party.

When you rang the doorbell, your whole body shuddered, not only because it was a little cold outside, but because of the anxiety of seeing all your childhood friends together again, especially one of them.

When the door opened, you froze, staring intently at the person who had opened the door for you. Sophia Laforteza, in all her glory. Many might say you were sworn enemies in high school, but you couldn't disagree more.

"Oh, it's you..." Her tone showed that maybe she hadn't let go of the little disagreements you had.

Giving an awkward smile, you watched Sophia move out of the way, a silent permission for you to enter. The house was full of conversation and laughter, and before you could think of what to say to Sophia, one of your longtime friends clung to you.

"YN!" Maya screamed, hugging your neck with excitement. "I didn't know if you would actually come, you seem to be always so busy with your company. Come on, come in." the woman said, pulling you by the wrist.

If you had turned your face, you would have seen Sophia roll her eyes, walking up to one of the closest friends she had at school and collapsing next to her on the couch.

"Wow, it feels like you've come back with one of the heaviest energies I've ever felt in my entire life. Who was at the door? O Nosferatu?” Abby, Sophia's friend, asked.

"Worse, Yn." Sophia said, crossing her arms like a tantrum child.

"Yn? Like, that girl who had a crush on you?" Abby asks, taking a sip of her martini.

"She didn't have a crush on me, she hated me. She always tried to steal my roles in school plays. Not to mention when she tore up the letter someone wrote to me on Valentine's Day." Sophia's gaze was watching the kitchen, maybe she wasn't in her right mind, and just maybe she wanted to throw the hollow of the coffee table on your head.

"Girl, that girl liked you, I'm not crazy. By the way, I'm always right, remember?!"

"What? Don't you remember how it happened?"

- High School, Manila – six years ago.

At that school, every sixteen-year-old's dream was to get a Valentine's Day letter. It was a school custom for a post office to be made during Valentine's Day, so when the day came, everyone would write letters to the people they had a crush on, and that letter would be delivered to each other's lockers during class.

With the classroom still empty, Sophia and Kylie talked freely, cheerful and super excited to see if their passions had sent them something.

"I don't know, I just wanted Yn to stop being so boring and like me, at least a little bit." The young Sophia said, organizing the materials for the next class and leaving them metrically positioned on the table.

"I've already told you that I think she only does all that to get your attention." Abby said, looking at herself in the mirror as she smeared lip gloss.

"You'll still admit that I'm right, Sophie." Abby said, making Sophia roll her eyes at the nickname. "Do you think Dylan likes my lip gloss?" The girl asked.

"He'd be an idiot if he didn't like it." Sophia says, making Abby laugh. "It seems lovely to receive a letter from him."

"He's adorable." Abby said, a cocky tone coming out of her words.

"I don't think he likes me." Sophia said, pointing to a pencil, so she wouldn't have to do this during class.

"Of course he likes you, he's just shy." Abby said, not wanting her best friend to think bad things about her boyfriend.

"yes, it could be." Sophia said, not paying much attention to the words of the girl next to her.

"Anyway, let's hope you get your letter today." Abby said, making Sophia laugh lightly as she shook her head.

While Sophia and her friend laugh at the conversation, Yn enters the room, accompanied by Zack, one of the nerdy boys who always hung out with her. Choosing Sophia's back seat, Yn sat down, and the Filipino girl observed the girl's different behavior.

"Have you finally decided to pay attention in class instead of sleeping in all of them?" Sophia asked, her tone sounding too sarcastic for Yn.

"Why don't you take charge of your life." Yn said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair, making the Filipina furrow her brows at her. Turning in her chair, Sophia missed something very important, the sigh and the look of sadness that Yn had on her face.

After school was over, young Sophia was crossing her fingers. Sophia had asked her faithful friend, Abby, to open the door to her closet, wanting to be quick to pick up the letter, but too afraid to look first. The Filipino girl had her back turned, and when she heard the soft creak of her closet door, only one question crossed her mind.

"And then? Is there something in there?" Sophia asked, the tone of her voice evidenced how nervous she was.

"Yes." Abby said, positioning the letter she had ordered inside Sophia's closet, in front of the Filipina's face.

Sophia's breathing was quickened, her hand rose and her hand was aching, tingling to have the letter finally in her possession. As Sophia's fingers brushed against the envelope's paper, a gust of wind hit her, and along with it Hurricane Yn. On top of her battered skateboard, Yn had just stolen the letter from Sophia's hands, paddling her feet faster on the ground, practically flying with the board on wheels.

"YN! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Passing like lightning through the students, maneuvering and dodging all possible things, Yn tried to go faster. Looking back, the problem girl saw Sophia running towards her, like an angry bull, a bomb about to explode, like anything that could hurt a lot, and Yn was the target.

Luckily, some students passing through the front door of the school kept it open, giving Yn easier access to the parking lot. With the passenger door open, Yn's nerdy and rich friend, Zack, was waiting for her, nervous that one of them would get into serious trouble. When the boy finally saw Yn coming towards him, he quickly shouted, warning Yn that Sophia was right behind her.

"YN, COME BACK HERE!" Sophia screamed, still trying to reach the girl, who was now hanging from the door of Zack's Jeep.

"SORRY!"

It was the only thing Sophia heard Yn say before the car accelerated.

"Now do you remember? You ran with me, the whole school thought we were crazy!" Sophia said, finishing remembering the story to Abby.

"It doesn't matter, we were children. I remember very well how you wanted to receive a letter from her that day." Abby countered Sophia's line, making the woman roll her eyes. "You always rolled your eyes at me in high school, and I was always right."

"There's no way she'll like me." Sophia muttered.

"There's no way she'll like me." The same phrase was repeated in the kitchen.

Yn, who had now begun talking to Maya and Zack about her complicated relationship with Sophia, took a big sip of the beer she had in her hand, trying to forget what a little disaster she was when Sophia opened the door.

"I never understood, why did you steal her letter anyway?" Maya asked, making you look at Zack.

Seeing as you were looking at him, the man quickly prepared a shot of tequila for you, which you readily accepted. The liquid burned your throat, and when you finished feeling the consequences of alcohol in your system (just for now), you hit the small empty shot glass on the counter.

"Let's go..."

Games has always been one of your favorite topics of conversation with Zack, but when you got close to the classroom, something a little more interesting caught your eye.

"He's adorable." Abby said, a cocky tone coming out of her words.

"I don't think he likes me very much." Sophia said, pointing to a pencil, so she wouldn't have to do this during class.

"Of course he likes you, he's just shy." Abby said, not wanting her best friend to think bad things about her boyfriend.

Stopping abruptly, you began to pay attention to the girls' conversation. Zack, slightly confused by your extravagant, looked at you as if to ask what was wrong.

"What are you doing? Let's go in." Before he made the presence of the two of you recognized there, you grabbed him by the back of his shirt, putting your hand on his mouth as he tried to protest.

"Shut up and listen." You whispered aggressively, causing your friend to raise his hands in surrender.

"yes, it could be." Sophia said, not paying much attention to the words of the girl next to her.

"Anyway, let's hope you get your letter today." Abby said, making Sophia laugh lightly as she shook her head.

That was it, all was lost, your plan to deliver a letter to Sophia and finally confess your feelings to her was over. Every time you tried to do projects in pairs, discreetly changing the teacher's list of names, or every time you auditioned for the male role in a play just because Sophia would narrow down as the princess who needed to be saved, all of that had gone down the drain, she liked another boy.

Finally understanding what was happening there, Zack put his hand on your shoulder, your sad look made the boy feel bad for you.

"I'm sorry, Yn." Zack said, trying to comfort you about your first broken heart.

"Alright, I mean, at least she doesn't know I like her, it would be a clime." You said, laughing falsely as you tried to mask your pain.

When Zack was going to tell you not to pretend, your eyes widened, a sensation taking over your body, making you shiver from head to toe, the only thing your mind weighed was that Sophia could NEVER see that letter.

"Zack!" You whispered aggressively, grabbing the shoulders of the boy in front of you. "She can't see the letter!" You said, shaking your best friend's shoulders.

"Hey, I'm going to get dizzy..."

"As soon as class is over, wait for me in the parking lot with your car running! I have a plan." You said, dropping Zack and entering the classroom.

"After that, I think she started to hate me even more." You said, taking one more shot. Grabbing a plastic cup with something Zack mixed.

"But you know what, I don't care, I don't feel anything..."

Without paying much attention, you ended up missing the moment when Sophia entered the kitchen, turning around just in time and spilling all your crazy drink on her clothes. Her mouth was open, the perfect shape of an 'o', just like Zack and Maya's.

"Sorry, I..." You couldn't even finish the sentence, the Filipina was already going up the stairs towards the bathroom.

With a sigh of defeat, you rubbed your hands over your eyes, thinking about why you couldn't do anything right when it came to Sophia.

"Go over there." Maya said, pointing with her drink towards the stairs.

"I can't, she'll tear me apart." You said, crestfallen.

"Or you can finally have a conversation as adults and sort out whatever high school craziness you have to sort out."

Taking Maya's words as an encouraging, you walked determinedly upstairs. When you came face to face with the bathroom door, leaning your body completely against it, you let out a deep sigh, before finally knocking.

"It's Yn..."

"Go away, Yn."

One more sigh. Maybe those shots were a bad idea, now your head hurt.

"I'm sorry. Not just for the drink, for everything. I was really stupid, I just thought it was the best way to get your attention, but then you started hating me, and I can't shut my mouth." You keep talking as you slide through the door, sitting in the middle of the hallway.

"It was all a bad idea, I shouldn't have stolen the letter from you, I shouldn't even have sent it..."

As soon as you closed your mouth, the bathroom door opened. You fell on your back with a dull thud and groaned as your head hit the ground with some force. As you sat down again, you were sure that those shots were a bad idea.

"Were you the one who sent the letter?" Sophia asked, genuinely interested in what you had just said.

"It's... I..."

"Yn, was that letter yours?" Sophia approached, lowering herself to your height and looking at you with a look you had never seen on her face.

"Yes." You confessed, another sigh coming from your lips, followed by a sob, which left you half embarrassed. "I heard you talking about another guy that day, you know, when I was walking into class." You confessed, another sob coming out of your lips, making you lower your head so that Sophia wouldn't see how embarrassed you were.

"Wait, man? I wasn't talking about any guy..."

"Yeah, you were talking about how sure you were that he didn't like you, and then Abby made sure he did. I was just scared of ruining something you really wanted."

Analyzing your words, Sophia couldn't believe it. You liked her too, you were both hiding your real intentions for fear of something silly getting in the way. Finally remembering the conversation she had with Abby that day, Sophia started laughing, it was a little funny and sad to think that the two of you could have been together all this time.

"I was talking about Abby's boyfriend, you stupid." Sophia said, pushing your chest, making you look at her with a confused expression.

"So you didn't like any guys?" You asked, making Sophia deny it with her head.

"No. In fact, I really wish you had sent me a letter that day, if you had arrived a little earlier to eavesdrop on my conversation, you would have listened." Sophia said, sitting next to you and touching her shoulder with yours.

"You know, I never wanted to go into the theater to steal your role in the cast." You said, another letting a sob escape. "I wanted to be your date."

Smiling, Sophia looked at you, the Filipina's gaze going down your chest, until it landed on your hands, which were on your lap. With a slight smile on her face, Sophia took your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers, making you look into her eyes for the first time.

"Do you still want to be?"

Hey guys, sorry for the delay with the requests, I'm trying hard. But lately I've also been very busy taking care of my farm and my WIFE Haley, we have a son now, her name is Ani (like anora)

Anyway, now seriously, I'm trying to make the requests, but I'm trying to enjoy my vacation, in a little while my college classes start and then it will get more complicated.

I also created another profile to write about women outside of kpop, the name of the profile is Sipderb00bs (in honor of the anon who always read my name wrong), I will be receiving requests there too, in case you want to take a look.

Stay safe and drink water

xoxo, spider.

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #kpop gg #gxg #kpop fluff #sophia laforteza x reader #spiderb00 #wlw imagine #gxg imagine

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changbunnies · 8 months ago

Text

Angel of Music (18+)

♡ Pairing: Phantom!Minho x Opera Singer Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: phantom of the opera inspired au, horror themes, dark romance, age gap, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :'), the ending is also a lil dark, sorry!

♡ Word Count: 5.8k

♡ Summary: A phantom exists in the opera house– he controls every production from the shadows, lurks around every dark corner, always watching. In your dreams exists an angel– a guardian that sings to you, guides you, and comforts you. When The Phantom appears before you in your dressing room mirror, you begin to realize that he and your angel may be one in the same.

♡ General Warnings: slightly less extreme age gap than the source material that inspires this fic but it's still fairly large (reader is ~mid 20s and minho is ~40), briefly described attempted murder of minor characters, implications of stalking, hypnotism, hallucinations + doubts of reality, so much usage of the words "phantom" and "angel" it's not even funny, this fic is not an accurate representation of how hypnotism works irl but it's fiction so i'm taking liberties!

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon (due to reader being hypnotized), additionally to not being in their proper state of mind, there are also moments in which reader does not feel to be in full control of their body, light dom/sub dynamics, soft pleasure dom!minho because i want more of him !!, mask kink (does it still count if the mask doesn't cover his whole face?? idk i hope so!), some biting, oral (f rec), overstim, multiple orgasms

♡ Notes: i've known for ages that i wanted to write a phantom!minho fic, and my kinktober series gave me the perfect reason to finally write it! also the fact that both my uploaded minho fics are age gap romances?? that was not intentional i swear lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All inhabitants of the opera house have been on edge these days– consequence of the new owners of the Opera Populaire, who decided to disregard all of The Phantom's demands.

The Phantom, as the name suggests, is a ghost story of sorts. According to your castmates, he has been here since long before you joined the Opera Populaire's trainees last year, but his activity has begun to increase since your arrival.

He controls all in the opera house, and his demands of the previous owner were always quite simple; perform what shows he instructs you to, follow his casting down to the letter, and keep the seats in Box Five free at all times. Evidentially, Box Five is his favorite place to watch the shows from– and sometimes, his dark silhouette can be spotted in the shadows of the booth, indiscernible but unmistakably there.

No one has ever truly seen The Phantom beyond a shadow, nor have they heard him speak. He communicates with notes, always left within feet of the recipient without anyone having seen him come or go. His notes will even appear in broad daylight, with not a single person having caught a glimpse of him despite all the eyes in the room.

Well, more accurately, no one has seen him apart from the Madame– an older woman who used to be a performer for the Opera Populaire herself, but has taken the role of choreographer since her retirement from the stage. In the 15 years it's been since The Phantom made his presence known to the opera house, she's the only one who's ever seen him, or heard his voice.

A brief encounter, she explained when asked about it– had barely seen him for more than a few passing moments. He spoke little, but the beauty of his voice was striking, completely unlike any other she’d ever heard. And all he asked of her, in that fleeting moment, was to remember that the Opera Populaire is his home– and as long as the inhabitants respect him, he'll respect them in turn.

The previous director, the Madame, and The Phantom all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done. As long as they listened to him, shows would go off without a hitch; but refuse, and there'd be dire consequences. As such, the Madame has been doing her best to express the importance of listening to The Phantom to the new owners.

The Monsieurs view it as no more than silly superstition– every opera house has their own beliefs and customs, things they consider good and bad luck before a show, things they view as omens of a show's future success. The Phantom is simply one of those things– and with a guiding hand, they can dispel such superstitions, show the cast and crew that there is no shadowy phantom to fear.

The first note left for the Monsieurs went disregarded– a barking laugh leaving the elder of the two before he tossed it in the bin. The instructions on the note were clear enough– you were to take the role of Eurydice in the opera house's production of Orpheus and Eurydice, and not Carlotta, as they originally casted.

You were just as baffled as everyone else to learn that The Phantom wanted you to take such an important role– you'd only been here a year, were still so new to your opera training. It's true enough that you have a good voice, and your dancing has improved with all your diligent practice, but you're still young, and the tragic role of Eurydice is not so easily performed.

Natural talent for bringing emotion to performance aside, you lack stage experience– experience that you can easily gain from background roles. To make you such a crucial stand-out role after only a year of training was simply unheard of– no opera house would do it!

This is to be your first production, your first time on stage in front of an audience; and so regardless of what The Phantom wants, Monsieur Reyer opted to keep you strictly in the supporting chorus roles, where you would go from shepherdess, to nymph, to spirit as the acts progressed. Not a glamorous, shining position in the cast by any means, but more than enough to help familiarize you with the reality of performing with hundreds of eyes watching.

It wouldn't take long for The Phantom to make his displeasure with the decision known. And what started off as just small accidents and stage mishaps quickly turned violent and dangerous as each week passed with you still not given the role that The Phantom felt you deserved to have.

The first violent turn came during rehearsals for Act 3, right in the middle of Eurydice's climactic aria, when the chandelier above the stage came crashing down. Carlotta was standing directly beneath it just before it fell, and it narrowly missed her– purely because she happened to take a few steps forward whilst singing.

“An unfortunate accident,” the Monsieurs said, “it had nothing to do with The Phantom!” But the veterans of the opera house knew better– and the conductor swore he saw a dark shadow on the scaffolds just before the chandelier fell; a shadow that could belong to none other than The Phantom.

Carlotta screamed as it crashed just mere inches away from her, right where she's just been standing, and cried as everyone rushed to her side to ensure that she was unharmed. Again, the Madame tried to persuade them to heed The Phantom before another such “accident” occurred.

"Good God in Heaven, you're all obsessed! These things just happen sometimes– there is no phantom!" Reyer cried in exasperation over everyone's insistence, still unwilling to give in to the idea that the opera house's ghost was real.

And tonight, just after rehearsals came to a close, another terrible stage accident occurred– this time happening to Monsieur Reyer himself. He was up on the scaffolding when it happened, making sure all the stagehands properly rigged the lights in preparation for tomorrow night's premiere of Orpheus and Eurydice.

He was bent down, inspecting the bulbs and wires, when a dark figure appeared behind him. The shadow wrapped a noose around his neck faster than anyone could even react, pushed him off the scaffolding before swiftly retreating back to the shadows.

Reyer almost didn't survive– he was lucky that the nearby stagehands were quick on their feet and in their wits, managing to grab his arms and pull him up while another cut the rope that served to hang the poor man. And as if the message from the accidents alone weren't clear enough, another note was left behind right in the middle of the stage.

It was astounding, really, that not a single person saw The Phantom leave the note behind– and while some could argue that it was because all eyes were on Reyer, or because the stage became chaos as they worked to save him, the Monsieurs realized that maybe they should start to believe that there really is a ghost inhabiting the Opera Populaire.

The moment the note was noticed, the Madame picked it up, and read it aloud for all to hear. "Again, I remind you that Y/N will play the role of Eurydice. As I instruct, Box Five shall remain open for my use. These seats will not be used by another. This is my final warning– disregard at your own risk."

Realizing they had no choice, lest they wish to continue putting themselves and other cast and crew in danger, the Monsieurs begrudgingly declared you the new Eurydice, right then and there.

Given that you're at every rehearsal, you know Eurydice's lines by heart, and are confident that you can sing them well– but still, you're nervous. It's your first production, the premiere is sold out, is set for tomorrow night, and suddenly you're in one of the most pivotal roles in the entire opera.

You don't even understand why The Phantom is so adamant about giving the role to you; what is it about you that he likes, what is it that he sees in you? You wish you could ask the Madame, but she met him so fleetingly, and so many years ago– she has no way of knowing The Phantom's heart beyond an educated guess.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, you sigh, utterly exhausted– now that you're Eurydice, it was vital that you do a last minute costume fitting and makeup test. As such, you've been in the opera house hours past the time you'd normally be here. The moon hangs high in the sky now, you're sure; you wonder if you should just spend the night here, sleep in the dressing room instead of making a late trek home.

Regardless, you hope your angel comes to you tonight. You know no one would believe you if you told them, but you really do have a guardian angel; and in your dreams, he comes to you– always when you are most lost and in need of guidance. He's a gentle, calming presence; always comforts you, talks to you sweetly when you're filled with self doubt, sings to you in the most beautiful of voices.

You've never actually seen your angel clearly– only heard his voice calling your name and whispering, singing, in a way that could only be described as angelic in its serenity. In your dreams, he's nothing but a vague, blurry image– even at his most clear, you can't define any of his features.

Still, you think of him fondly– and you suspect that as an angel, you aren't meant to be able to fully perceive him. And your angel always, always, knows when you need him– you suspect that even now, he's waiting; waiting for the moment you fall asleep, so that he can come to your side.

You look at yourself, still dressed as Eurydice. A beautiful, off shoulder bateau gown in the prettiest, purest ivory. There's lace appliques throughout the gown, has a beautiful cinched bodice before the tulle skirt fluffs out. It's elegant, makes you feel like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle.

Your makeup shimmers– extra glitter applied on your eyelids to make sure the stage lights catch it. Your jewelry too, is extravagant– made to sparkle and shine every time a light shines on you, to twinkle with each subtle move you make. It's a shame you have to take it all off just to put it all back on tomorrow– but the effort to make sure everything fits you was necessary.

You reach your hands up to one of your ears, prepare to remove one of your dangling earrings when you hear a voice you know all too well call your name– your angel's voice.

You look around the room, bewildered, but see nothing and no one. And surely you were mistaken– you're still awake! Your angel only comes to you in dreams, and you haven't fallen asleep... right? You are still awake, aren't you?

Again, you hear his voice, another whisper of your name. You rise from your chair, look around the room once more– no one. You turn back to the dressing room mirror, and jump in surprise, realizing that the view reflected in it has changed. You no longer see yourself, or the reflection of the dressing room around you– instead, you see a man.

He looks just as the Madame described her memory of The Phantom– dark hair, and even darker eyes, with a white mask that covers the right half of his face. Not completely– just from his hairline, down to his pretty, plump lips. Every inch of his skin is covered, head to toe, all of his clothes pure black apart from the ornate red vest.

Sleek boots and dark trousers, a tall collar that obscures most of his neck, long sleeves that cover his arms, even gloves covering his hands. He wears a cape, long and as dark as the rest of his clothes, and it blows behind him as if there’s a breeze rolling through.

You’re confused, a little frightened, but you can’t tear your eyes away or will yourself to flee– and as the figure speaks your name, you gasp; he truly has the voice of your angel. But he’s The Phantom, isn’t he?

The blurry, vague scenery behind him begins to sharpen, coming more distinctly visible to your uncertain eyes. A dark corridor full of candelabra, glowing in dull yellows and shades of orange, held by incorporeal hands with no discernable origin.

What little of your dressing room you see in your peripheral shifts and warps as you stare at him, blur together into dark shadows as the table holding your hairbrush and makeup begin to fade and disappear, leaving the view through the mirror as the only thing you can see.

The figure– your angel, The Phantom?– holds his hand out to you through the mirror, as if the glass that should separate you no longer exists; perhaps it doesn't. Smoke– or maybe fog, mist? you can't be certain– pours into the room as you approach the mirror.

As if under a spell, you reach out to take his hand, thinking not of logic as you follow the beckoning call of your name. Your angel; you trust your angel. He smiles as you place your hand in his, and carefully, you step through the mirror, into the corridor.

Entranced, you stare at him; even with half a mask covering his face, he's utterly beautiful. He appears to be older than you, hints of fine lines beholden around his mouth and eyes, and even that adds to his mysterious charm. He holds your gaze as he takes a step back, a candelabra in his hand now, beckoning you to follow him down the corridor.

You squeeze his hand as you follow, and finally he turns around, walks with purpose as he guides you, glancing behind every so often to look at you in what you think to be adoration. You too, glance behind– and where the mirror once stood is now a desolate, barren wall.

You do not see any hint of your dressing room, or of the mirror you stepped through. And as you continue further down the corridor, the candelabra that were once behind you slowly begin to blink out and vanish from sight, leaving only pitch black darkness behind. A spiral staircase made of stone manifests, and you descend it, hand in hand with your angel.

You're so enchanted and bewildered, you can't seem to find your voice– all you can do is follow, let him guide you along to where it is he wants you to be. Even the staircase dissipates when you've finished descending, and for just a moment, you wonder– is any of this truly real?

Finally, you stand in the middle of a beautiful room, lit candles both resting in more candelabra and strewn about the floor, with dark, intricately woven tapestries hanging from the stone walls. There’s a grand piano, sleek black with gold accents, with even more candles resting atop it, as well as a sheet of music sitting pristine on the music desk, black ink seemingly freshly dried, just waiting to be played.

There are several mirrors, though only one remains uncovered– the rest are obscured by cloth, for reasons you do not know. There is a bed, in what you suppose would be called a “corner” in this otherwise circular space, inviting and plush in its appearance, with blankets colored a rich red. Naturally, candles surround the bed as well, covering it in a beautifully soft, yellow-orange glow.

“Where are we?” you finally find your voice to ask, and the man smiles as he beckons you to follow him towards his bed. “We are home,” he replies, and though it’s a strange answer, you feel you understand– yes, you are home. This is home.

You gaze at him curiously after you sit on the bed, just as comfortable as you expected it to be, and he mimics the way you’ve tilted your head at him. “You’re.. My angel, aren’t you? Or are you The Phantom?” you ask, and the man laughs ever so softly, melodious and beautiful.

“I am Minho,” he responds, as if that alone is a sufficient enough answer– in a way, you suppose it is. What else is there to know? He is Minho. That is enough.

“I have longed to touch you, to bring you here,” Minho whispers as he reaches one of his gloved hands to your face, strokes your cheek slowly, gently. The sensation, though simple, feels so tender– it sparks something inside you, fills you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. You close your eyes, bask in the comfort his touch provides you.

You feel his hand move, travel down until his fingers are under your chin. He tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to see him gazing down at you warmly. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, speaking to you as gently as he always does. He’s said it before, in your dreams– that you are beautiful, talented, deserving of all you wish to have.

He never lets you linger on self-doubt, never allows you to think you are lesser than someone else, or undeserving of the opportunities you’ve been granted. Your angel knows you– you think he’s appearing to you now, like this, because he knows you are uncertain of playing Eurydice; he must think that he needs to remind you of just how special you are.

All of your doubts about tomorrow’s premiere– he will dispel them from your mind, as he always does. He kneels before you, gazing at you carefully as he inches closer to you, his hands softly rubbing over your shoulders and down your arms. His attentive stare as he caresses you makes you breathing quicken, your heart starting to pick up speed.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks suddenly, and with not an ounce of hesitation, you nod. You’ve no reason not to trust him– in the year it's been since your angel first appeared to you, you’ve always trusted him. There is no one else that makes you feel so secure, so at peace, so.. Loved, cared for. Yes, your angel, Minho, loves you, cares for you like no other. You trust him.

“I wish to clear your mind of worry and doubt– to make you think only of me, and the music we can make together. I wish to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you," he says, and oh, he knows he shouldn’t be pouring his heart out like this, for it’s too soon, much too soon. But he’s been enamored with you since the first moment you stepped into the Opera Populaire, has been infatuated with you since first hearing the passion in your voice.

He can’t help it, it seems– now that he has you here, in his lair, his defenses falter, all of his desires pouring out of him. To have you here, and to touch you like this, even so simply– it’s everything he’s wanted. And instantly, unconsciously, you reach out to him. Your angel sees you, knows you– you wish to know him too, to understand him the way he does you.

Your mind is somehow as clear as it is hazy– clear, because you know what it is that you want. Regardless of who he is, what he is, you want Minho to have you. Anything he wants, you feel compelled to give, as if it’s all you know; and in this moment, perhaps it is. In the very back reaches of your addled mind, a reminder blares– The Phantom always gets what he wants.

And what he wants now, most of all, is you; and despite what logic may tell you to feel, you trust him to have you. He sees all that you feel in your expression alone, knows all that you think as if he’s seen into the depths of your mind. Even now, perhaps more than ever before, he sees you.

Sees all that you are, and all that you want– and a charming smile plays on his lips as you gaze at him with wanton desire to let him take you. To let him have, to give yourself over– you wish to offer yourself wholly to your angel’s desires.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, a soft press that you could almost call chaste, his hands slowly moving over your body, each soft touch lingering. You don’t feel his gloves anymore, you realize– did he take them off without you noticing? You suppose it doesn’t matter– his hands are warm, a bit rough and calloused against the soft skin of your arms, and you like it.

Even as his kisses become less chaste, deepen as his hands travel to your hips, they remain slow and purposeful. His hands eventually find the bottom of your dress, begin to lift it ever so slowly up your thighs– not to expose you, but so that he can slot himself between your legs. Somehow, innately, you understand this– and easily, you spread your legs for him, allowing him to find his place between them.

His arms wrap around you after, pulling you closer, pressing your body to his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he pulls away, breathless as you look to him with eager, impassioned eyes– a gaze that heats his otherwise cold heart. You reach up, bring your hands to his face; he nearly flinches when you touch his mask, though he knows you mean no harm.

Minho feels himself ugly under his mask– too scarred and disfigured to be appealing to you in any regard; at least like this, with only the good parts of his face on display, you may find him handsome. Your touch is as soft as your gaze, and though perhaps you should, you make no move to remove his mask; you simply rub your thumb over the cold porcelain.

It’s a vulnerable thing, really– how softly you touch his ugliest spots. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see them from beneath his mask– the tender regard you seem to feel for him, even without having seen the scars that mar him, is more than enough. It’s ironic, in a way, that you seem to think he’s an angel; in reality, the only angel in this room is you.

“I want to please you, if you'll let me,” he breathes as his fingertips ghost over your thighs. It makes your breath hitch, blinking at him slowly as you process his intent. There is much your angel wants– but chasing the pleasure of his own flesh isn’t one of those things. He doesn’t need it to feel satisfied; your pleasure will more than suffice him.

His dark eyes bore into yours as he awaits your answer, can tell from his wanting gaze how serious he is about pleasing you, and it makes your cheeks slowly bloom with heat. And it’s not just what he wants– it’s what he needs, really; when you surrender yourself to him, he wants it to be for your pleasure, not his own.

“Oh, please– touch me,” you answer, plead– because something from deep inside you screams for it, wanting it beyond all comprehension. Your darkest, most innate desires manifest for him; desires that you didn’t even fully realize you had. They possess you, drive you to kiss him again, urgent and passionate.

Minho returns your kiss with equal fervor, lets his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours. They share a dance, swirl around each other until you’re breathless again; and then he’s guiding you back, urging you to lay down as he hovers over you. He pulls the skirt of your dress further up your body, until your thighs are entirely exposed and he can see your dampening panties.

He lowers himself to you, but doesn’t go immediately where you expect him too– he takes his time trailing wet, lingering kisses over your thighs instead. Your inner thighs are sensitive, ticklish, and you can’t help but squirm from each kiss he grants you.

You also can’t help but jolt each time the cool porcelain of his mask presses against the hot skin of your thigh, and again when he carefully sinks his teeth into your pliant flesh. He doesn't do it hard enough to hurt, or even fully leave indents of his teeth behind– just enough to leave you panting and squirmy; and he lets out a soft, airy laugh every time he succeeds in the endeavor.

Your bunched up skirt is so full that you can hardly even watch him work you up; but there are times, while kissing and biting over your trembling thighs, that he lifts his head just enough to let you catch his gaze. It makes your heart skip a beat, butterflies dancing in your stomach every time he locks eyes with you while kissing around where you need him most.

You reach a point where you’re no longer squirming because his attention tickles, but because you’re becoming desperate, impatient; and the way he stares at you as he does it all doesn't help in the slightest. “Minho, please,” you whine, shameless; and you can feel him smile against your skin before he lifts himself up from his place between your legs.

“Needy are we, angel?” he asks, grinning as you pout and nod. “Need you,” you mumble, but he hears you loud and clear; he’s attuned to you, your angel is. He lowers himself between your thighs once more, kisses your pussy over your panties– and it’s not quite what you need, but it’s enough to have you gasping and quivering.

Again, he takes his time, as if not a single ounce of urgency resides within him. And make no mistake, it does– but Minho knows how to restrain himself. He’s a stubborn man, that is certainly true, but he’s also perfectly in control of himself; for now, anyways.

And he likes the way you whine for him when you feel his tongue lick you up over the fabric of your panties. It’s not a full enough feeling for you, or a full enough taste of your pussy for him, but the desperate, whiny sounds it draws out of you are delicious enough to satisfy him.

Still, while he’s enjoying the way his soft kisses and kitten licks over your panties is making you writhe and cry for him, he also can’t deny how badly he wants to finally taste you directly on his tongue. He’s been patient enough, he thinks, and so have you– why not indulge just a little sooner than planned?

In contrast to how sweetly he’s treated you up to this point, he’s quick to tear your panties away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping makes you gasp, and maybe later he’ll apologize– but for now, lapping his tongue between your folds is of more importance. You moan when his tongue finally meets your bare pussy, as does Minho– and despite the hunger that he feels, he continues to lick you over slowly.

The languid pace makes you crazy– you want more, so much more, but your angel has been waiting for this; he needs to take his time with you, needs to embed the taste of your dripping sex on his tongue, needs to make sure it’s something he’ll never be able to forget. And he isn’t trying to tease you by keeping the slow pace– well, maybe he is a little; he does enjoy it, after all– but he’s sincerely craved this for too long to let the moment quickly pass him by.

He brings his hands to your thighs, squeezing them in his hands and preventing you from closing them around his head. You’re sure it’s partly so he can keep you spread out for him, to keep enjoying the easy access to your pussy, but it’s also so that your trembling thighs don’t cause his mask to shift, and fall from his face.

You gasp when the cool, smooth and rigid porcelain covering the right side of his nose bumps your clit as he shoves his tongue into your hole. And while he isn’t purposely trying to get you to cum just yet, his slow but diligent ministrations are getting you there regardless– with his tongue dipping in and out of your heat, always pushing in as deep as he can make it go, and his mask-covered nose nudging your clit.

You let your head fall back against the bed, your every high pitched whimper and moan echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You try to tell him you’re going to cum, but you fail miserably– all that leaves you is a quick succession of whines before your eyes are rolling, back bowing off the bed as release on his tongue. Minho moans with you, hums happily as he licks the mess from your pussy like the cat that got the cream.

He laves over your clit when he’s done licking up your cum– and it's sensitive, swollen from your orgasm; but that doesn’t stop him from swirling his tongue around it, and positively knocking the air from your lungs. The sensation is overwhelming, he knows it is even without you telling him, but it’s still so good that you don’t want to squirm away, or ask him to stop– or perhaps you can’t.

You get the distinct feeling that even if you tried, your limbs would resist, would fight to keep you in place– despite your best efforts, you would remain just as you are now. Spread open and trembling, exactly how Minho wants you. “You make the prettiest music, angel,” he separates from you long enough to speak, “want you to keep singing for me.”

And sing for him you do when he dives back in, flicks your clit with his tongue a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like a piece of hard candy. Your moans, the smacking sounds of his lips, the way he hums when he returns to your hole to collect the cream– it’s an orchestra, just for the two of you.

You cum again in record time, of course you do. Minho finds it cute, the way you incoherently babble away as you let go for him again. And he isn’t done just because you came again– no, he’s far from finished with your pussy. He doesn’t tire in the slightest, ceaseless in the way he lavishes with you his tongue and suckles with his pretty, perfect lips.

When you cum for the third time, you don’t even know if you truly ever stop cumming at all– the pleasure just keeps coming in waves, never fully receding before it builds again, washing over you like a tsunami before it all repeats. You writhe and twist, back repeatedly bowing off his bed before falling back, but your thighs stay spread for him, even when his hands stop holding them down.

His hands have found their way beneath you, cupping and squeezing your ass as he eats away. Your hips wriggle, and he helps grind you up against his face, moaning and humming all the while. It’s too much and not enough all at once; your body screams that it can’t take it, and yet your mind screams that it needs more, and God, you can’t think straight– but is there any point in this night that you were?

You’re hot and heaving, sweat dripping from your brow as you tremble and bend. Minho is hot too, of course– his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his face red from his cheeks to his ears, and even down his neck. And were you not so far gone, you’d have noticed that his mask has shifted and fallen from his face.

It was because of you, too– when another high took you and tugged on his hair hard, crying as your hips jolted and bucked against his face. He should’ve swiftly put it back on, lest you see his scars, but he didn’t– he just shoved it aside, against his better judgment, so he could keep licking you up without interruption.

You feel positively delirious by the time he’s finished, eyes heavy and bleary, body utterly limp and boneless. He crawls his way up to you, and your gaze is unfocused, blurry; you can hardly distinguish his features anymore– similar to the way he always appeared in your dreams before now.

Regardless, you smile at him before you close your eyes; a weak, but content one that Minho finds oh so endearing. You’re beyond fatigued, but also feel an unmatched sense of elation as your angel strokes your head and whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep to. “You belong to me now,” you hear him say, just before you drift off– and you know it’s true.

You think, perhaps, you’ve always belonged to him. From the very first moment Minho saw you, he knew he was never going to let you go. And just as Orpheus had done for Eurydice, he’d gladly walk into the depths of Hades itself if that’s what it took to keep you by his side.

He gently caresses your cheek as you fall into a deeper sleep, presses a soft kiss to your lips and whispers a final soft utterance of love before he covers you with a blanket, and your mind goes completely dark for the night.

You wake the next day with a struggle– at least, you think it’s the next day; it’s too dark in the room you’re in to tell for certain. You reach out for Minho, but don’t feel him anywhere– and as you sit up, and your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are alone. Your brows furrow as you look around; you’re still in his room, but it doesn’t look quite the same.

There are no candles, not on the floor or in the candelabra that now lie empty. The tapestries adorning the walls are torn and dulled in color, the piano dusty and the gold decorating it chipped. The sheet of music that sits on the piano’s music desk, that last night looked so fresh and pristine, now appears weathered and yellowed.

As you grab the blanket to pull it off you, you realize it isn't a blanket at all that is covering you, but a cape– Minho’s cape. And on the bed, just an arm’s reach away from you lies a note– the same kind that The Phantom always leaves behind inside the Opera Populaire.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, eyes straining to read it in the darkness. The message he leaves behind, when your eyes focus on the words well enough to read them, is quite simple. “To my beloved and beautiful Eurydice; welcome home.”

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #skz smut #lee know smut #skz fanfic #lee know fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #don't ask me how many times i listened to the poto soundtrack while writing and editing this #the answer is obscene (several hours)

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prythianpages · 2 months ago

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Ooh-la-love | Cassian x Reader

cassian x love witch reader | summary: just some scenes of you helping Cassian with his love life, completely oblivious to the fact that you are the love of his life. aka idiots in love (Think of this of like a little montage of 'scenes')

warnings: fluff, both reader & Cas are pretty dense in this lol, mentions of Cas puking

a/n: This has been in my drafts since last summer. I had hoped to post it for valentines day...but better late than never right? This is approx 6.1K words. I tried to write this as a stand alone but it may need some further context from the other parts.

The Love Altar Mishap

“Oh, this won’t do.”

Nothing was working your way. Your coffee this morning was too bitter, you stained your pink satin shoes with some strawberry jam and you forgot the keys to your shop, forcing you to walk back to your apartment. Not that it was a far walk but you never forgot your keys!

It was all the aftermath of last night’s ritual–the one Maeve led again. Had it been anyone else leading your coven’s monthly rituals, you wouldn’t have minded it. Sure, you’d still be a little upset.

For years, that has been your role.

But the other witches wouldn’t have been as cruel as Maeve. She enjoyed rubbing salt to your wounded heart, reminding you of what you could no longer deny. Your magic was no longer the same. It hasn’t been since your fall, since…

A knot formed in your stomach and you took a deep breath, forcing the dark memories of those starless nights out.

As you gazed up at the bright neon sign in your shop, you couldn’t help but wonder if Maeve’s chaotic energy lingered within you. What once proudly proclaimed “Love This Way” now sputtered and flickered, the neon light barely illuminating the jumbled message of “Loe This Wa.”

With a determined frown, you lifted your hands towards the sign, your fingers trailing pink stardust that drifted towards the bulbs.

Instead of tightening the loose bulbs, a sharp, discordant crack echoed from the sign. You tried again, willing your magic to align with your intent…only for it to leave you with the bitter taste of failure. One worse than the coffee you had this morning.

The pink magic dwindled from your fingertips like a candle being extinguished. You took a step back. Just in time as one of the bulbs broke free from the sign, shattering on the floor and causing you to wince. You glared at your hands and then up at the sign. It continued to sputter and flicker but louder.

“Guess, I’ll have to do this the mundane way,” you huffed, turning your head toward where your lovely apprentice was. Moxie sat on a stool near the counter, absentmindedly swatting at the air.

“Are you sure this is safe?” She asked after you summoned her for help, holding onto a wooden step ladder skeptically.

You had pulled it from the dusty corners of your storage room. It wobbled precariously and you shot a stern look down at Moxie as you slowly climbed up the steps. “It’s safe if you help hold the ladder steady.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, her face etched with unease. “These pesky love bugs have been taunting me all morning. I do not want to get bitten.”

“Why not?” You asked, voice strained from the way you were reaching up with your arm. The sign had originally been hung using your magic and never imagining your magic to wane, you had hung it way up high. Even on the ladder, reaching those bulbs in the cursive letters was a stretch. “A bite from them is a–is a blessing.”

“So you say.”

“So I say and everything I say…” your voice trails off as the tips of your fingers twisted one of the bulbs, successfully tightening it. “Goes. Ha! Look at that!”

“I refuse to believe they are blessings when they left red, angry bumps all over that customer’s skin last week.” Moxie pressed on with a grimace.

“Those are love bites, they–”

The sound of bells chiming and Honey’s curt “meow” cut through the air, causing you both to pause. You didn’t turn around, intent on finishing the job, instead calling over your shoulder, “We’ll be with you shortly!”

A sudden shriek from Moxie made your heart leap. You felt the ladder sway violently, a dangerous tilt threatening to send you crashing down. You moved with haste, hoping it’d stay steady long enough for you to descend but gravity worked quicker.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you prepared for the worst, your body instinctively curling into itself. The ladder clattered against the floor, echoing through the shop but you did not meet the same fate as the ladder.

A strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you flush against their chest.

“I’ve got you.”

If the voice did not give it away, then the scent of sandalwood and leather overwhelming your senses did.

You blinked up at him, breathless. Hazel eyes scanned you with open concern, assessing for any injury. Relief flooded you, making your limbs weak, and you found yourself leaning into the warmth of his embrace.

“Cas,” you murmured, offering a breathless smile as you tilted your head back to look at him. Placing a hand over your hammering heart, you teased, “My hero.

A deep flush colored Cassian’s cheeks. It was endearing how you could easily make him blush. It seemed no one was immune to your charm. Not even the Night Court’s general.

It wasn’t until you gently pushed away that he seemed to realize he was still holding onto your waist. “Are you okay?” He asked as he let you go so you could turn and face him fully.

“Yes,” you answered, then frowned, glancing toward the flickering sign. “But also, no. My magic is… well, it’s not magic-ing.” You winced at your own phrasing but were relieved when Cassian didn’t laugh. You only found concern etched onto his face. “And so I thought I could just fix it myself…”

You motioned toward the ladder and Cassian’s gaze dropped down to it. A frown creased his brow when he noticed the splintered wood scattered around. “The fact that you had so much faith in that ladder is horrifying.” Cassian commented, lifting his gaze to meet yours once more.

“I had faith in Moxie.” You corrected him, sparing a glance your apprentice’s way. She was swatting at the air and had now caught Honey’s attention, your cat’s eyes searching for those pesky little love bugs too.

“I can help.”

“Great!” Moxie beamed, clasping her hands together with an overly enthusiastic smile. “I’ll go back to sorting the candles in the back!”

You glared at her retreating back as she walked away. Honey trailed after her. So much for her help…or his…

Once Moxie was out of sight, you turned your attention back to Cassian. “How? I just broke my one and only ladder,” you said, nodding toward the broken wood lying not far from your feet.

Cassian crossed his arms, the motion making the muscles of his biceps flex beneath his fitted leathers. The movement was effortless, unintentional, and yet you couldn’t help but stare.

“Have a little faith in me, sweetheart.”

His words sent a jolt through you and your gaze perked back up to catch him sending you a wink. Even the red siphons wrapped around his wrists seemed glimmered, as if they, too, were winking at you. Had he caught you staring?

“Right…” you huffed out, fighting the blush threatening to take over your features. Since when were you flustered?

“You forget I’m not vertically challenged like you.”

“Excuse you?” Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief, regretting not wearing one of your many platform shoes. “I’m not vertically challenged. You’re just vertically…blessed.”

Cassian raised a brow at you. “Blessed,” he echoed in an amused manner. “I was referring to these,” he said, flexing his wings with a lazy stretch.

“Oh,” you breathed and you were left flustered. Again. Crossing your arms, you tried to appear to be unimpressed. “Well then, Mr. Winged Tall and Mighty, show me what you got.”

“Lovely!” You said with a small, excited squeal as you gazed up at the fully functioning sign. “I’m so happy, I just might kiss you!”

Cassian’s cheeks tinted. He descended with a satisfied but slightly sheepish grin, the red forcefield from his siphons giving out as soon as his feet met the ground. He had placed it to shield your shop from the gusts created by his wingbeats, not wanting to break any of your antiques or potions. As he tucked his wings behind him, a light breeze tousled your hair that you just knew was done on purpose. Most likely in retaliation for your comment.

However, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when the flickering sign was glowing steadily once more. That wave of warmth fluttered through your chest, full of gratitude and content. It spread through your veins, radiating out to your fingertips, where it ignited the long match you held, setting it ablaze with a vivid pink flame.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile, extending the match toward him. An act of kindness could go a long way in your world. Cassian took it with a curious look. “No kiss as payment—unless you absolutely insist—but since you’ve helped me out, let’s see what the love gods have to say today!”

You were already making your way toward the section of your shop dedicated to the altars, where the air hummed with the enchanting energy of love. Honey, now nestled comfortably in his heart-shaped bed by the counter, lifted his head at the sound of your movement. With an excited purr, the fluffy white cat stretched languidly before following after you, brushing affectionately against Cassian’s leg as he passed.

With every step Cassian took toward the five love altars, the magnetic allure in the air intensified, wrapping around him like a warm, invisible thread. The altars, each representing a different aspect of love—self-love, familial love, platonic love, romantic love, and erotic love—had been carefully arranged in the shape of a five-pointed star. The star itself was outlined in bright pink paint, glowing faintly with the very essence of love magic.

Cassian placed a protective hand around the match in his hand, though he suspected the flame would not go out until its purpose was fulfilled. To light one of the candles on one of the altars.

You stood right outside of the star, your eyes sparkling with excitement. Honey, ever-attuned to the energy of the space, brushed against your leg, his fluffy tail curling around you as he looked up at Cassian. He let out a curious, “meow.”

In the center of the star stood an older fae female. She, too, held a match, but its flame was kindled by the eternal candle that flickered on a small table beside you. After a moment of deep contemplation, the fae female approached the altar dedicated to erotic love, surprising Cassian.

He looked toward that altar. It was a vision of passion and desire, draped in deep reds and lush pinks. A chalice of what smelled like the sweetest red wine was in the middle, surrounded by silver charms and chains. Rose petals, soft and fragrant, were scattered across its surface. The flame of her match danced brightly as she extended it toward one of the waiting candles.

As the candle ignited with a bright, unwavering flame, the match in her hand extinguished, its purpose fulfilled. The older fae gave a small, reverent bow before turning to leave, her eyes suddenly widening as her gaze landed on Cassian, and then on you.

“May your desires be fulfilled,” you said sincerely. Your smile matched the brightness of the candle she had just lit.

The older fae returned your smile, her expression softening with gratitude. As she stepped aside, you turned to Cassian, giving him a gentle, playful shove. “Your turn.”

Cassian took a deep breath, attempting to calm the flutter of nerves in his chest. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He was just lighting a candle. He approached the center of the star slowly, his eyes drawn to the altar dedicated to romantic love. It shared the passionate reds and tender pinks of the erotic love altar, but where the latter exuded raw desire, the romantic love altar was adorned with heart-shaped charms, rose quartz crystals, and answered love letters.

His reflection caught his eye in the small, framed mirror at the back of the altar. For a fleeting moment, his gaze locked with yours in the mirror's reflection. There was a glimmer of hope in your eyes, but when you realized he had caught you watching, a reassuring yet slightly bashful smile played on your lips. You offered him an encouraging nod and he concentrated on his deepest desires.

With determination, Cassian stepped forward, intent on lighting one of the candles from the romantic love altar. But just as he raised his match, Honey darted toward him, curious eyes focused on the red siphons that began to glow. The cat weaved swiftly between his legs, the unexpected movement catching Cassian off guard. He stumbled, struggling to regain his balance as his arms flailed slightly.

A collective gasp rippled through the shop, and Cassian’s heart sank as he realized what had happened. He had lit the wrong altar. The candle’s wick flared to life, the flame swirling into a vivid heart shape before his eyes. He instinctively stepped back, his wings twitching in response to the sudden surge of magic in the air.

“By the Cauldron, I’ve been blessed!” the older fae female, who could easily be his great, great grandmother, exclaimed.

Before Cassian could react, she threw her arms around him. He glanced down at Honey, who was now blissfully licking his paw, completely untroubled by the chaos he had just caused. Then, Cassian’s head whipped toward you, hazel eyes pleading.

“Oh my,” you couldn’t help but giggle before rushing to his aid.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗

The Butterfly's Kiss Mishap

Your reflection was bathed in a celestial glow as you gazed into the grand, full length mirror before you. The Mirror of Veiled Hearts, its glass enchanted to reflect your deepest desires when the right incantation is spoken. An heirloom entrusted to your family for generations. Due to its power and significance, you kept the mirror in the private room of your shop.

It’s surface was a perfect expanse of polished glass framed in silver filigree, its design woven with patterns of entwined hearts and vines. Clear quartz and moonstone draped over the top of its frame. The crystals glowed faintly and you sensed it was time to charge them.

As you reached out for them, something caught your eye.

Confusion etched onto your face and you took a step back. A glimmer of hope sparked. Because as you looked at the mirror, you found hazel eyes staring back at you.

“y/n?”

You blinked, turning around and realizing that those hazel eyes were literally right behind you. How silly of you to think so, considering you needed to charge the crystals and say the incantation that gave life to its magic...

“Simmering Cauldron, Cas,” you breathed, hand flying to your chest as a blush crept up into your cheeks. “You made my heart flutter!”

Cassian grinned sheepishly, his presence filling the room with warmth and air with his scent. He was dressed in casual pants and a snug black t-shirt that accentuated his muscular build. Your gaze lingered on the way the muscles in his arms shifted as he gestured toward the door. “I did knock, by the way.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Cassian replied, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck, his expression growing more sheepish. “Moxie said you didn’t have a client so after the third knock, I just let myself in…”

“I see…,” your voice trailed off awkwardly…wait a minute, since when were you awkward?

“What is that?” Cassian asked, nodding toward the magic mirror behind you. His siphons, reduced to two glowing crimson bands around his wrists, gleamed in response to the mirror’s energy.

“The Mirror of Veiled Hearts,” you replied as you turned to face the mirror once more. You reached for the purple cloth you kept nearby, hesitating for a moment before stealing one last glance at the mirror.

A shiver coursed through you, and you quickly covered the mirror with the cloth. “Perhaps, when it’s charged, I’ll let you gaze into it.”

When you turned back to Cassian, your usual, charming demeanor returned. A warm smile lit up your face. “But I have something else in store for you today!”

Cassian leaned casually against the counter of your shop, his eyes tracking your movements as you approached the shelves lined with colorful potions. The last potion you had given him had left him feeling all warm and giddy and giggly. “Glee brew,” you had called it. “A feel good potion.”

The potion worked in a similar way to alcohol. It held the power to make you feel light and release your inhibitions without the consequences of losing your balance or feeling hungover the following day. You even claimed it brought good luck.

Tapping one finger against your lips in deep contemplation, your eyes scanned the array of vibrant elixirs. Cassian watched as your eyes brightened, lingering on a vial filled with a shimmering blush-colored liquid.

“This one’s called ‘Butterfly’s Kiss,’” you said as you reached for it and made your way back to him. “It’s said to awaken the butterflies in your stomach, guiding you toward love. It’s one of my most popular—and potent—potions. I just brewed this batch this morning!”

Cassian glanced down at the potion you held out to him. The cork was fashioned into a dainty butterfly, its wings spread as if caught in mid-flight. He examined it for a moment before uncapping it with a crisp pop that startled Honey from his nap. The little feline’s white tail twitched as he blinked open his sleepy eyes and Cassian eyed the cat in a wary manner, remembering the last time he had piqued Honey’s interest.

“The nice thing about this potion,” you continued, drawing his attention back to you, “is that it smells different to everyone, according to what they find most attractive. The stronger the scent, the more potent the potion.”

Cassian brought the vial to his nose, his brows furrowing slightly in a curious manner. He frowned slightly and looked back at you. “All I can smell is you,” he said, though the scent of rose and vanilla seemed to have wrapped itself around him since he entered your shop.

“What?” You exclaimed, a look of disbelief crossing your face. You took the vial from him, leaning in to sniff it yourself. “I’m getting the same thing—just you,” you murmured, puzzled. A small frown tugged at your lips as you set the vial down on the counter. “Why didn’t I–Cauldron above, my magic has never failed my potions…”

“I can still try it,” Cassian offered. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could utter a word, Cassian had already lifted the potion to his lips.

“Cas…” you gasped, your hand freezing mid air, your eyes widening.

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as you watched him take a tentative sip and then a large gulp. The atmosphere in the room thickened with anticipation. Honey’s tail had gone still, and even Moxie, who had been restocking crystals, peered around the corner.

Cassian felt hot.

His face flushed and he felt short of breath as a violent flutter tore through his stomach. It quickly escalated into a nauseating churn that spread through his insides and began to rise and rise and–

He set the vial down with a trembling hand, his knuckles white against the counter as he leaned heavily on it for support.

“Oh, Cas,” he heard you murmur.

You disappeared from his side with a sense of urgency and returned quickly. Moxie had brought a chair for him to sit and you placed a trash bin in front of him just in time. Cassian barely had a moment to react before he was doubled over, the effects of the potion manifesting violently.

“I’m so sorry,” you continued to apologize profusely as you brought Cassian some water.

He had wanted to help you in gathering all of the Butterfly’s Kiss potions but you insisted he remained seated, worried any movement would provoke his nausea again. You could only hope he spewed up all the potion he had drunk, worried about the lingering effects of a faulty potion still in his stomach.

Moxie and Honey had helped you instead, the young fae holding out a box as Honey nudged the faulty potions off the shelves with his paw. The clattering sounds of the vials made you wince, a deep frown settling over your features.

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” Cassian said, offering you a smile as if he hadn’t just thrown up moments ago. “Truly.”

Your pacing came to a brief halt as you looked at him with tear-brimmed eyes and though he seemed genuine, you refused to believe him. “No, this isn’t okay. I made you sick and this has never happened before,” you said, starting to pace again.

With a resigned sigh, you brought your hands to your face. “Just burn me and carry my ashes to Day. High Lord Helion will know what to do.”

Cassian’s gaze shifted to Moxie and Honey. The young fae looked just as perplexed as he felt, while Honey blinked at him with mild indifference. He walked over to you and gently placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to a stop. Then, he reached for your hands, slowly prying them away from your face.

Seeing the guilt and fear in your eyes made him feel worse than the potion he just drank. “I’m okay,” he repeated, hoping that if you couldn’t see the sincerity in his eyes, at least you could hear it in his voice. “You tried to warn me about the potion but I didn’t listen.”

“I’m still sorry…” Your lower lip wobbled, and Cassian had to resist the urge to soothe it with his thumb. “Are you sure you feel alright? I can call for a healer.”

“Sweetheart,” Cassian said, his voice warm and reassuring, “I’ve faced far worse than a faulty potion. I’m perfectly fine.” He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. There was a spark of mischief in his hazel eyes. “Actually, you know what?”

“What?” you asked, your eyes wide and earnest, filled with a desperate need to make things right. The sight made something in Cassian’s chest tighten and soften all at once.

“I’d like to rinse my mouth.”

“Of course.” You nodded quickly as you motioned for him to follow you, leading him towards the bathroom at the back of the shop.

“Oh and y/n?”

You paused. “Yes?”

“I’m feeling quite famished.”

You blinked, the frown on your face slowly dissolving into an expression of disbelief. “You’re hungry…?”

Cassian’s response was a simple pat to his stomach, a grin spreading across his face. “Okay,” you shook your head, determination flaring in your eyes. “What would you like to eat? My treat.”

As you led Cassian through the shop, Moxie’s curiosity got the better of her. She peered into the box where you had hastily gathered all the potions, her fingers itching to explore. She picked one up, the glass cool against her skin, and uncapped it with a soft pop. Bringing it close to her nose, she inhaled deeply, a thoughtful hum escaping her lips.

“It smells like cardamom and parchment to me,” she mused aloud. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as realization slowly began to dawn on her.

Honey, ever the watchful companion, blinked knowingly at her, his bright blue eyes seeming to glow.

The bell above the door jingled as Cassian, Moxie, and you walked into the cozy crepe shop. The rich scent of fresh batter and sweet fillings filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of brewed coffee and vanilla.

Cassian led the way to a corner booth. Moxie slid into one side, her eyes wide with excitement as she picked up one of the menus, eagerly looking through it. You, on the other hand, trudged along behind him like a sad little raincloud, your mood still heavy from the earlier mishap in the shop.

You slumped next to Moxie and Cassian slid into the booth opposite you, the forced cheerfulness on his face doing little to lighten your mood. Their voices blurred into the background as your thoughts took over. Your magic faltering was one thing but now your potion making skills? Had you been cursed? Had the stars lied to you??

You hadn’t realized Cassian had ordered for you until two crepes were gently placed before you. One savory, filled with ham and cheese, and one sweet, filled with berries and dusted with powdered sugar. Your favorites. You blinked, staring at the plates. Then at Cassian.

He was already halfway through his own plate, devouring his crepes with such eagerness (as if to prove a point) that it was almost comical. But the twitch of his lips let you know he had noticed your gaze.

Moxie, sitting across from you, nibbled on her own crepe, glancing between you and Cassian with a curious expression.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t a fan of blueberries,” Cassian commented mid-bite, noticing the way you pushed them around with your fork.

“S’okay,” you said with a shrug, not bothered. How would he have known? The fact that he knew you well enough to order something with berries was enough. “I’m just already feeling too blue…”

Moxie let out a snort, almost choking on her crepe. Cassian speared a strawberry from his own plate and dropped it onto yours. “Here—eat up.” He gave you a lopsided grin. “Can’t have you feeling blue. Red suits you better, anyway.”

Cassian watched with satisfaction as the light returned to your eyes, the earlier heaviness melting away. And when you finally smiled back at him, he felt something flutter in his stomach.

But this time, there was no nausea. Only happiness.

He really liked your smiles.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗

The Blind Date Mishap

“I look ridiculous.”

Cassian groaned, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt. It was a deep emerald green, a color he seldom wore. But a color you and Maurice, the shop’s ever-charming owner, meticulously picked out for him, claiming it “complemented the warm undertones of his tanned skin and brought out the different flecks of colors in his hazel eyes.” Whatever that meant.

From where you sat perched on a velvet chaise, legs elegantly crossed, you let out a dramatic gasp. “Nonsense! You look absolutely radiant!”

And you were right. Cassian did look good. The deep green fabric stretched perfectly over his broad chest, the expertly tailored cut emphasizing his build. Still, Cassian couldn’t help but reply, “you say that about everything.”

“That’s because you are handsome, darling,” you said matter-of-factly, waving a dismissive hand before hopping up from your seat. You made your way toward him, the soft rustling of your rose-colored skirt and clunk of your platform heels accompanying your every step. “But trust that I would let you know if something does not look good. Such as that faded flaxen yellow shirt you wore the other day...yuck!”

Cassian grimaced, his eyes twinkling with amusement at the memory. The look of utter horror on your face at his poor choice of fashion was one for the books. He turned back to the mirror, rolling his shoulders. Fine. Maybe the color did bring out the golden and green flecks in his hazel eyes, but something still felt... off.

And he was starting to realize it had nothing to do with the shirt and everything to do with the fact that he didn’t want to be here, picking an outfit for a date he wasn’t particularly excited about.

What if his date didn’t like him? He hadn’t gone on a proper date in months. What if he was out of practice? What if the conversation felt forced, each topic stretched thin until there was nothing left but awkward silence? What if she liked all the right things but didn’t get him, not in the way that you did? What if–what if he spent the whole evening searching for a feeling that wasn’t there?

Stop, he told himself. It’s just nerves. Anyone would feel the same after being out of the dating world for so long. It didn’t mean anything. And he wasn’t about to let a little nervousness stop him. Especially not when you had gone out of your way to set this up for him. He owed it to you to try. He owed it to himself, too.

“If you don’t feel confident in it, we can find you something else,” you said, resting a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder in reassurance. “Something that makes you feel more like yourself.”

“No, I’ll take this one,” Cassian responded a little too quickly, standing rigid. He had no desire to spend another minute in this shop.

Your eyes met his through the mirror’s reflection, searching. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Great!” You beamed, stepping in front of him. There was a brief pause as you tilted your head, studying him with a look of deep concentration. Your lips parted slightly, eyes trailing over him, and Cassian felt his heartbeat stutter in his chest.

Then, without a second thought, you reached up and—Mother above—unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, the backs of your fingers lightly grazing his collarbone as you did so. Cassian’s breath faltered, willing himself to stay still. You didn’t seem to notice or were polite enough to pretend not to. Instead, you moved on to smoothing his hair.

“There,” you declared, taking a step back and grinning with satisfaction. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

Cassian barely heard you over the hammering of his own heartbeat. You tossed out compliments as effortlessly as breathing, so often and so sincerely that no one ever doubted their truth. And yet, no matter how many times he reminded himself of this, it still made his cheeks warm and his chest tighten whenever you said things like that to him.

From behind the counter, Maurice let out a delighted chuckle. “You two make an adorable couple.”

Cassian choked on his own spit, coughing as he scrambled to regain composure. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with clearing his throat, he might have noticed the flicker of nervousness that crossed your face beneath your giggle. “Oh! No, no, we’re just friends. This outfit is actually for a blind date I set up for him.”

“Oh,” Maurice said, perking up. And then, as if the idea had just dawned on him, he turned to you with a wolfish grin. “Well, if you’re not taken, my dear, I know quite a few eligible bachelors who would love to court a beauty like you. Such as my son. He seems about your age.”

Cassian’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His stomach twisted in a way he didn’t quite understand. An odd mix of irritation and something dangerously close to panic. His jaw tensed as Maurice turned his full attention to you, flashing that all-too-eager grin.

He suddenly hated this conversation. He hated the way the shopkeeper was looking at you—as if he had already decided you would be his daughter-in-law. He also was not fond of the way you were blushing.

Blushing??

Why were you blushing?

“Oh, that’s very sweet, but—”

“She’s very particular,” Cassian blurted out.

You blinked up at him in surprise.

Maurice arched a brow. “Oh? And do you know what she likes?”

Cassian opened his mouth—then closed it just as quickly. Not because he didn’t know what you liked. Of course, he knew. He knew your favorite shade of pink, your favorite dessert, your favorite candle scent. He knew the way you twirled a strand of hair around your finger when deep in thought, the way you practically melted when eating strawberry tarts.

But if he said any of that, he’d sound more like a boyfriend.

And he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was just your friend. A friend you were currently trying to set up with someone else. A date he was now actively dreading. Cauldron, save him.

Maurice smirked, his eyes flickering between the two of you, far too entertained. “Well,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, “if you ever lower those particular standards, I'd be happy to set you up.”

Cassian’s scowl deepened.

This was going to be a very, very long night.

Cassian sat at the candlelit table across from a beautiful fae woman with such warm and kind brown eyes. She was nice—sweet even—but as she spoke, he found himself only half-listening, his mind constantly drifting elsewhere.

Or rather, to someone else.

His gaze flickered toward the bar, where you sat nursing a glass of rosé. Sensing his gaze, you looked up and sent him a thumbs-up. He let out a small exhale, trying to focus on his date, but then someone approached you. A tall, handsome golden-haired male. He sat next to you and then, he leaned in, murmuring something that made you smile.

Something in Cassian’s chest twisted. He straightened in his seat, his wings tensing at his back.

“Everything all right?” his date asked, amusement lacing her tone.

Cassian cleared his throat, feeling a bit of guilt. The date had been lovely—held at one of Velaris’s most upscale restaurants. The appetizers were phenomenal, the wine the smoothest he’d ever tasted. And the female across from him was stunning, turning heads the moment she walked in. Yet he’d already forgotten her name. Petunia? No, but it was something with a P or maybe some other type of flower...

“Yeah. Just—uh, the wine’s strong," he managed to say.

She seemed to smile knowingly, eyes drifting between him and the bar. “Or maybe it’s a lovely someone at the bar?”

Cassian stiffened, ready to deny it, but she only chuckled lightly. “It’s all right. I see the way you look at her.”

Heat rose to his face. “I don’t—” He sighed, almost defeatedly, shifting in his seat. “She’s my friend.”

“She’s the one who set up this date,” she pointed out, swirling her drink thoughtfully. “And yet, you haven’t stopped looking at her all night.”

Cassian had no response to that, his eyes involuntarily drifting back to you. You were still smiling with that stranger, and Mother above, it irked him more than he liked to admit.

“I get it,” his date said softly, and Cassian blinked, surprised by the warm admiration in her voice as she followed his gaze. “She’s… lovely. There’s this energy about her—it's I don't know, it's irresistible. She almost swept me off my own feet when we first met."

Cassian let out a small chuckle. “Yeah,” he murmured, a hint of wistfulness in his tone. “She kind of does that.”

Meanwhile, you sipped your wine, engaging in light conversation with the male beside you. Every so often, your eyes drifted toward Cassian—just to check that he was doing alright, of course. You truly hoped the date was going well for him, but you couldn’t shake the strange feeling twisting in your gut.

Maybe tagging along had been a mistake, even if you’d kept your distance. Still, he’d been too nervous to go alone, almost backing out last minute, and that’s exactly why you came.

The feeling settled a little when you saw Cassian and his date now engaged in some conversation. You couldn’t deny the tiny pang in your chest at the sight then. But this was what you wanted—for Cassian to find someone, to be happy. And yet, something settled over you, an ache you didn’t understand...

Jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it. Could it…?

You turned your attention back to the male beside you, forcing yourself to stay engaged.

But a commotion at Cassian’s table immediately drew your gaze.

“Shit—” Cassian cursed, suddenly pushing back from the table. Your gaze narrowed in concern, following his own as he looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers as if they burned. His date blinked in confusion.

“You okay?” You heard her ask.

“I—I think I’m allergic to something,” Cassian muttered, standing abruptly. He looked at his date with some guilt. “I’m so sorry. I think I need some air. I'll be right back."

Without another word, he strode toward the exit.

Alarmed, you set down your drink and hurried after him. Cassian stood near the restaurant's entrance, shaking out his hand as if trying to rid himself of some invisible ailment.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, reaching him.

He turned his palms toward you, and even in the dim glow of the lanterns, you could see the faint redness blooming across his skin. “My hand,” he muttered. “It's tingling and feels like its on fire.”

You grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand closer to inspect the redness. And then—you saw it. A tiny mark, flushed red like lipstick on skin, near the pulse point of his wrist.

You gasped, a flutter in your chest and pupils flaring into hearts. “Cassian, you got bit by a love bug!”

He blinked. “A what?”

“A love bug!” you repeated, excitement creeping into your tone, despite his growing confusion. “It means your soulmate is near!”

Cassian stared at you, dumbfounded. “You’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this!” you said, deadly serious. “This is a good thing, Cas! The love bug only bites when you’re close to your true love, whether it's physical proximity or the right time. I knew Viola was a match!"

He frowned, rubbing at the mark like he could erase it. He conveniently ignored the part about Viola. His eyes met yours instead

“Have you ever been bitten?” he asked.

Your smile faltered, just slightly, a shadow flitting across your expression, as you quietly admitted, “no.”

The single word hung between you, heavier than it should have been.

If the love bug only bit when someone’s true love was near…

Cassian's heart stuttered. Why now? Why here? Why did the bite come when he was on a date with someone else?

When all he'd been able to think about...talk about...was you?

a/n: I feel like it's still lacking it's zazz but idk if that's just because I've read this over so many times. I hope y'all still enjoyed these two idiots that are falling in love with each other.

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi, @bxtchopolis

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette,

@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore, @kodafics

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian fluff #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #cassian fanfiction

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sleepymarimo · 8 months ago

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𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒!

based off of this small drabble from a while back, the idea is just stuck in my head :)

zoro x gn!reader // sfw

synopsis: you're a vice captain of an ally crew and your crewmates want to set you up with zoro so badly! the strawhats are doing the same thing, pushing their swordsman to take the leap.

basically, they set you up on a date.

an: reader is caffeine-fueled, zoro is booze fueled :)

you sigh as you stroll down the cobbled streets of the most recent island you and your crew have docked on. it's been... a mess, truly, with many battles fought and places explored over the course of a few weeks. the most interesting thing to come of this whole adventure has been your alliance with the straw hat crew, especially their swordsman.

though his title as second in command isn't official, you can tell that there's a sort of unspoken rule, a presence he demands without trying.

the two of you had gotten along quite well, managing your crews in different, but respectful ways. sometimes he'd chide you for getting too involved, urging you to let your crew mates settle scores with themselves, telling you to quit worrying. meanwhile, you get on him about being too callous, reminding him that his strength should be delivered with a certain grace.

it's a pleasant dynamic, the two of you finding peace in each other's company.

both of your crews were shocked when they'd found you snoozing away under the shade on one day, your head on zoro's shoulder while his chin rested on your temple. your crew were surprised because, well, you never seemed able to take a break- the amount of caffeine you consumed also didn't allow you to sleep much, anyway. and zoro, well zoro could nap anywhere, but his crew is well aware that he doesn't let his guard down around just anyone.

after that point, both sides were bent on getting you two together.

they never hid their intentions, making it painfully clear that they wanted you guys to do something. zoro is too focused on his role as a swordsman, perhaps unsure of what to do when his palms get sweaty around you. it's similar on your end, with your cheeks growing exceptionally warm whenever you're around him, whenever your crew members give you teasing looks.

it seems endless, but today your crews will be going their separate ways, the alliance coming to a soft, momentary close.

in a way, it's a last stand of sorts.

now, you're carrying a slip of paper in your hands, heading toward what is supposed to be the best coffee and tea shop on this island. your mood is light, mind already drifting toward what you'll order. something new, or a drink you know you'll like?

as you approch the building, you notice another figure standing there, one hand on his head and another holding a note of sorts.

"zoro?" you call out, only a few steps from him now, wondering what he's doing here.

the swordsman turns his head, brows raising. he's comfortable around you, you make him feel at ease- mentally. physically though, he can tell that his heart skips a beat and it makes him uneasy.

"ey," he speaks, confused but not entirely displeased to see you.

in front of him, you tilt your head. "what are you doing here in this part of town?

he mumbles something you can't hear, holding up the slip of paper. "that dumbass cook told me this place had the best booze around, gave me... directions," zoro eyes the address scribbled on there, not thinking much of it. "they told me to bring some back, too."

humming in interest, you squint when the numbers and letters appear familiar. "wait, hold on," you step forward, staring a little more. "that's the same address my captain gave me."

both of you turn your head, looking up at the large brick building, it's name written in wonderfully crafted metal letters.

brews & brews: best coffee and cocktails in the sea!

things click a little then, a switch flipping. both of your cheeks start to burn as you remember the sly looks your crew had given you, telling you to have fun and enjoy your drinks.

zoro looks away and grits his teeth, unfolding the rest of the slip of paper he was given to see the "order" he was supposed to pick up. inside, he finds all sorts of encouraging messages from his crewmates.

'zoro, you have a big crush!!! bring meat when you come back!! - luffy'

'don't screw it up, stupid!! use the berries i gave you to pay for their drink! - nami'

'be brave, zoro! don't chicken out! - usopp'

'treat them right, stupid marimo. you'll scare them off by being a brute. - sanji'

'zoro, you're so cool, you'll impress them for sure! - chopper'

'i think it's lovely that you feel this way, mr. swordsman. - robin'

'their vice captain is suuuuuuuuuuuper cool, bro! make them a part of the family! - franky'

'a good warrior uses their heart as much as their head - jinbe'

'dont forget the meat!! -luffy'

"those damn idiots," zoro hisses, glancing at you as you read comments from your own crew members.

when you turn your head and meet his gaze, the two of you look away and get your thoughts together. neither of you thought your crew mates would go this far, but clearly they're more than willing to go the extra mile.

"ugh... might as well get a damn drink, I guess," he grumbles, nodding his head toward the establishment.

you swallow, stuffing the note back into your pocket and clearing your throat. "I guess so, yeah," comes your response, a little stiff as you think about your date.

and, as the two of you take a seat at the bar, ordering your drinks, you find the conversation becoming more and more fluid, the two of you settling in quite nicely.

eventually, the two of you are practically shoulder to shoulder, drinks in one hand while your pinkies link beneath the counter.

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro fluff

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nortism · 5 months ago

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I wanted to talk about @pilferingapples ‘s autistic Fantine headcanon that has been brought up in the Les Mis Letters server because it has rewired my brain and the more I think about it the more I can see my own experiences as an autistic woman reflected in Fantine’s story.

Fantine is introduced as being an outsider amongst the other grisettes. I think Hugo’s intention here was to paint her as innocent and virtuous in comparison to them but the way it reads to me is that she is someone who just can’t quite connect with her peers. She is described as being dreamy and “always having a queer look about her” in the words of Favourite.

The way Fantine is treated by the other girls rings very true to me as an autistic woman in my experience with friendship. She does consider the other grisettes her friends yet they speak cruelly about her behind her back (Favourite saying she puts on airs) and to her face (Dahlia mocking her for crying over a dead horse). Yet she offers no resistance, in fact she barely seems to acknowledge these things as offensive, because that’s just what being friends is.

The friendship between the four grisettes is shown to be truly shallow when after Tholomyes’ “prank”, they all go their separate ways, with Hugo saying it was like they’d never been friends in the first place. Realistically, one of the few examples of female friendship in the brick being portrayed as shallow and catty is most likely down to some lingering misogyny on Hugo’s part but it is something I find relatable as someone who has allowed myself to be treated poorly by others because I thought that’s how friendship was supposed to be. I’m sure a lot of other autistic people can relate to this as well.

Additionally, I think it’s interesting how the other grisettes criticisms of Fantine come down to her not acting in the expected way and fitting in with group. Favourite accuses her of putting on airs because she won’t swing like the other girls (therefore let the men look up her skirt). Dahlia laughs at her for getting emotional over the dead horse because her emotions are tainting the happy outing they’re all having. Fantine being empathetic towards animals isn’t an inherently autistic trait by itself but her inability to suppress her emotions or just go along with what everyone else is doing is something I think a lot of neurodivergent people can relate to.

Her relationship with Tholomyes is probably the biggest example of Fantine not understanding unspoken social rules. I’m no history expert and people have definitely written more in depth posts on the relationships between upper class men and working class women in France in this period but from what I’ve gathered it was understood that these relationships were purely transactional. The men got sex and attention and the women got gifts and nice days out to places they couldn’t afford by themselves. There’s more nuance than that I’m sure but that’s the gist.

We know the other three grisettes are aware of this aspect of the relationship. They are eager to receive a “surprise”, an expensive gift they could later sell on. Favourite flatters her lover to his face and says all the things he expects of her but confesses to the other girls that she doesn’t like him because he isn’t playing his role of spending money on her.

Fantine is seemingly oblivious to all of this. Maybe it’s her ostracisation from the other girls that is keeping her ignorant or maybe she knows how it is for them but genuinely believes she and Tholomyes are different. Either way it’s clear to me that her and Tholomyes have very different ideas about their relationship and that subtext has not been picked up by Fantine. For the record, this is completely on Tholomyes, even if he’s supposed to be playing the expected role, leaving his mistress without any financial aid for their child together is bad even by the standards of the time. However Fantine is definitely naïve.

Also if you read Fantine as autistic, her reasons for being in love with Tholomyes make a lot more sense. From Hugo’s description, it doesn’t seem like Tholomyes has many redeeming features: he’s balding and missing teeth, he’s a student in his thirties and he is in poor health. Yet he pays attention to Fantine, he flatters her and spends money to keep her in a nice apartment.

If we assume that Fantine is autistic and has spent her life being an outsider, this onslaught of affection would lead her to let her guard down and believe that this is what love should look like. Even without the autism, Fantine was an orphan, she didn’t have any examples of what a marriage was supposed to look like growing up so how could she possibly resist a man who seems to be doing and saying all the right things?

I think my conclusion is it doesn’t really matter if you want to read Fantine as being autistic or not. I think all the factors I’ve outlined in this post can be explained by her upbringing and her still being very young during her relationship with Tholomyes rather than having to be neurodivergence. However, I think looking at Fantine through an autistic lense has given me a new appreciation for the character and being an outsider in society, a big theme in Les Mis, is generally a relatable sentiment for neurodivergent people and I think it’s interesting to explore that in the context of Fantine.

#yippee fantine posting #les mis letters #lm 1.3.7 #fantine #les miserables #les mis #les misérables #autism #the brick #les mis meta #mine

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mlembug · 1 month ago

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Fact checking the discord ai training chain letter

it does not make sense to have "invisible magic discord bots which are hidden in your server" as a result of a supposed partnership between discord and some ai company, because if discord wanted to secretly give some ai company your messages or uploaded images, then

they don't need a fucking bot to do this, they already have the data

what makes you think you would able to counteract this by using discord's features

furthermore, "partnerships" are mutual: if a company claims that a partnership exists when no such partnership exists, discord can tell them to knock it off or announce that no such partnership exists, and guess what, the article does not mention any such partnership, it says "we launched an app", which is like, whatever, it's inside all the other shovelware hidden in the menus no one clicks.

the evidence for "invisible magic bots" is super flimsy and results in misunderstanding about how banning works (banning a user by id and then seeing the entry in audit logs). in reality, you can ban users that are not present in your server, which I've been doing as a preventive measure for years at this point when I see someone on another server doing stuff I would be banning for if they were present on my server.

you also can't add apps or bots to your server without having "manage server" permission.

furthermore, as a bot, you can't read messages on the server without opting in with enabling message content intent, and needing explicit approval from discord for this.

(this is what you see in discord developer portal in the bots settings. "Read more here" leads to this website)

in fact, "application commands" discord feature that the bot uses was introduced specifically so bots don't have to read every message on the server to see if it starts with an exclamation mark or whatever in order to know if to react to it, and how.

there are also "external apps" which are per-user, rather than per-app, but these are basically equivalent of a user DMing a bot, and they don't have access to anything aside from whatever user sends them, and, if the role has has "use external apps" permission enabled in the channel, they can send a message as a result of a user action.

and yes, potentially a member of your server could send some image in it to an AI company by using the application command, but then again they can also right click -> save and upload it to chatgpt. your threat model is fucking bonkers.

conclusion: the original message is fearmongering based on misunderstanding on how discord, or computers in general, work.

#discord #mythbusting

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mrmousetolliver · 1 year ago

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Alan Mathison Turing

Alan Turing was was an English mathematician, computer scientist, logician, cryptanalyst, philosopher and theoretical biologist and is widely considered to be the father of theoretical computer science. During the Second World War, Turing worked for the Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park, Britain's codebreaking centre that produced Ultra intelligence. He led Hut 8, the section responsible for German naval cryptanalysis. He devised techniques for speeding the breaking of German ciphers, including improvements to the pre-war Polish bomba method, an electromechanical machine that could find settings for the Enigma machine. Turing played a crucial role in cracking intercepted messages that enabled the Allies to defeat the Axis powers in many crucial engagements, including the Battle of the Atlantic. in 1952 when Turing was 39, he began a relationship with Arnold Murray, a 19 year old unemployed man. In January of 1952, Turings house was burgled, and Murray told Turing that he and the burglar were acquainted, and Turing called the police to report the crime. During the investigation, he acknowledged a sexual relationship with Murray and both men were charged with "gross indecency" under Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act 1885. On the advice of his family and lawyer he pled guilty. In March of 1952 he was convicted and given a choice between imprisonment or probation with the condition that he undergo a hormonal treatment to reduce libido, aka as "chemical castration". Turing opted for probation and began the chemical treatments. Over the course of the following year he was injected with estrogen, causing impotence and for breast tissue to form. In a letter, Turing wrote that "no doubt I shall emerge from it all a different man, but quite who I've not found out".

On 8 June 1954, at his house at 43 Adlington Road, Wilmslow, Turing's housekeeper found him dead. A post mortem was held that evening which determined that he had died the previous day at the age of 41 with cyanide poisoning cited as the cause of death. When his body was discovered, an apple lay half-eaten beside his bed, and although the apple was not tested for cyanide, it was speculated that this was the means by which Turing had consumed a fatal dose. Many question whether his death was suicide or accidental but it is officially listed as suicide. In 2013, Queen Elizabeth II signed a pardon for Turings conviction of "gross indencency", with immediate effect. The Queen officially pronounced Turing pardoned in August 2014. The Queen's action is only the fourth royal pardon granted since the conclusion of the Second World War. Pardons are normally granted only when the person is technically innocent, and a request has been made by the family or other interested party; neither condition was met in regard to Turing's conviction. In September 2016, the government announced its intention to expand this retroactive exoneration to other men convicted of similar historical indecency offences, in what was described as an "Alan Turing law". The Alan Turing law is now an informal term for the law in the United Kingdom, contained in the Policing and Crime Act 2017, which serves as an amnesty law to retroactively pardon men who were cautioned or convicted under historical legislation that outlawed homosexual acts. The law applies in England and Wales.

#classic #gay #gay history #lgbt history #alan turing #the imitation game #gay men #gay man

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thejournallo · 5 months ago

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How to make manifestation fun

Manifestation has become a little too logical and tactical on this blog—that’s how this post was born! ENJOY!

Here’s a list of fun activities to make manifesting more enjoyable and engaging:

Vision Board

Create a physical or digital vision board with images, words, and symbols representing your desires. Use magazines, stickers, or Pinterest for inspiration.

Gratitude Jar

Decorate a jar and write down things you're grateful for, along with affirmations about what you're manifesting. Read them aloud weekly.

Scripting

Write a journal entry as if your dream life is already happening. Use vivid details and emotions to make it feel real.

Manifestation Dance Party

Dance to your favorite songs while imagining the feelings of achieving your desires. Move your body to align with joy and abundance.

Creative Art

Paint, draw, or craft something symbolic of your manifestation. For example, create a piece of art that represents the life you want.

Affirmation Karaoke

Sing your affirmations to the tune of your favorite songs. It’s silly, but it boosts your mood and helps your affirmations stick.

Nature Walk Visualization

Take a walk in nature and visualize your desires while feeling connected to the earth. Pick up a stone or leaf as a “manifestation token.”

Manifestation Jar or Box

Write down your goals or dreams on slips of paper and put them in a decorated jar or box. Shake it gently every day while focusing on your intention.

Guided Manifestation Meditations

Try a fun meditation app or YouTube video where you visualize your goals in a playful or fantastical way.

Role-Playing Your Future Self

Dress up as the version of you who has already achieved your goal. Act like that person for a day or an evening.

Affirmation Mirror Work

Write affirmations on sticky notes and place them on your mirror. Read them out loud with excitement and energy.

Create a Manifestation Playlist

Curate a playlist of songs that make you feel empowered, abundant, or joyful. Play it when you need to boost your energy.

Use Crystals or Essential Oils

Incorporate tools like crystals or essential oils associated with abundance, love, or peace while meditating or journaling.

Storytelling with Friends

Share your dreams with friends as if they’ve already come true. Encourage them to celebrate with you.

Write Yourself a Future Letter

Write a letter to yourself dated a year from now, describing how amazing your life is and how everything you desired has manifested.

Create a Manifestation Board Game

Turn your goals into a fun, personal board game where every step represents progress toward your dream.

Take Inspired Action “Challenges”

Gamify the process of taking steps toward your goals. For example, give yourself points for completing tasks aligned with your desires.

Dream Jar for Fun Rewards

Tie small rewards to your manifestations. For example, every time you visualize, add a small treat to a “manifestation reward jar.”

Celebrate Small Wins

Throw a mini celebration every time you see signs of your manifestations (angel numbers, synchronicities, etc.).

Gratitude Collage

Create a collage combining things you’re grateful for and things you’re manifesting. Display it somewhere visible.

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 year ago

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I have a request if that's OK can you do Yandere class 1a(romantic) (and Yandere eraser mic platonic ofc) x reader with powers like starfire or raven

Sure and I'll go with the reader having powers like Starfire if that's okay with you and I sincerely apologize if this sucked

You were a part of class 1A and over a period of time, they started growing obsessed and possessive of you so much that you weren't even allowed to hang out with students from the other classes. To say you had powers was an understatement, you were basically a walking weapon with your abilities of being able to fly, shooting laser beams from your eyes and hands, superhuman strength and agility. You aced the UA entrance exam like it was nothing and left everyone awed and speechless of your powers. You were soon sorted into class 1A after you received your acceptance letter and you became friends with your classmates, unaware of their darker masked desires and hidden intentions for you

You were book smart but when it came to figuring out the intentions your classmates had for you, you were quite naive indeed. The other day Monoma, TetsuTetsu and Kendou wanted to hang out with you and you agreed to hang out with them, when your classmates found out about your plans to hang out with some other class instead of them, they were annoyed and their jealousy bubbled inside him. They usually couldn't stand each other at times, each of them wanting to have you for themselves, however during times like this they were forced to work together. "HAH!? TF DO YOU MEAN HANGING OUT WITH THAT BLONDE RAT!? NO WAY!" yelled Bakugou as he muttered profanities and cursed under his breath while threatening to blast Monoma to the orbit. Uraraka, Momo and Mina had resorted to trying to guilt trip you by telling you that you barely ever hang out with them and you wanted to spend time with other people instead of them. Even the usually calm Deku and Kirishima had dark looks plastered across their faces, looking deep in thought while Iida was busy lecturing you as usual about how you shouldn't ignore your classmates when they wanted to spend time with you and besides, you also had homework to do and started listing out every possible reason why you couldn't hang out with the class 1B students

Eventually you ended up giving in and decided to have a movie night in the common room with your classmates since they just wouldn't stop with the incessant pestering. You don't know what it is they've done, but they've done something for sure since no one from class 1B decided to approach you the next day. Even Monoma kept his distance from you and scurried off in the opposite direction as your spotted a few scars on his face and hands which your dear classmates may or may not have caused. They won't allow anyone else to steal you away from them, you're theirs. From hanging out with Shoji and Koda and playing with Koda's pet bunnies to helping Sato bake his goodies and doing homework with Iida and Shoto to going shopping with the girls, you feel like your classmates are monopolizing your time way too much but you can't really do anything about it, how could you possibly prove that they're in the wrong for wanting to spend time with you?

Your teachers are of no help either whatsoever, Aizawa sensei and Present Mic think it's a GOOD thing your classmates are so protective and possessive of you. They're worried you might become reckless one day and your powers might end up hurting you which is the last thing they all want, so it's like a mutual silent agreement and understanding between them to keep an eye on you and protect you. Even if they have to get their hands dirty. Aizawa and Mic see you as one of their own kids to take care of and they take that role VERY seriously. The other day some random dude actually had the GUTS and audacity to try slipping in a love note into your locker while Aizawa was passing by and his eyes narrowed as he wrapped the guy in his scarves and gave him detention for the rest of the semester every day. If someone dares to make the mistake of bullying you, Mic would be the one to deal with that by using his quirk on them to make their eardrums literally BLEED till they apologize

Now, about your powers, it's a tricky situation. As much as they all love you for who you are and how capable you are to take care of yourself, they're also worried you might end up getting hurt one day because of them. No way in hell would Aizawa ever give you strenuous training tasks despite your whining and pleading, you could get hurt. They ALWAYS have eyes everywhere and they know your every move no matter what. Some of your classmates have literally resorted to stalking the living daylights out of you and you're still unaware of the secret cameras placed in your room, courtesy of Iida when you both had that study session a few days ago. Your every movement is now watched by all your classmates and your teachers as well. They don't even realize they're doing something wrong and they're lost so far in their delusion, they think they're just doing their jobs as good heroes in protecting you, their loved one and keeping you safe

Denki, Kirishima, Sero, Hagakure and Ojiro think your powers are cool but the rest of them are really worried for your safety. You always get lectured by Iida whenever you end up doing something risky and Deku would just be pleading with you to never do something like this again while Bakugou would lovingly insult you to knock some sense into your head. You are NOT to be fighting villains, they've all established that already and made that rule VERY clear. If there's a villain attack at some point, you'll be taken to safety because they do not want you engaging into such dangerous stuff. Look, you might have strong powers and you might be a good fighter but that still doesn't mean they'll let you fight villains and criminals, you'll always be seen as someone naive and sheltered in their eyes, someone they need to protect from the darkness of the world. But not to worry though, after the villains are dealt with (Or probably murdered), Aoyama will comfort you with cheese, Momo will make you some tea and Jirou will play some of her music for you as you'll spend the rest of your time surrounded by your classmates once again, your teachers pleased with the turn of events of the extreme lengths your classmates are willing to take to protect you. What sort of heroes would they be if they can't ensure their loved one's safety after all?

#yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere class 1a #yandere class 1a x reader #yandere class 1a scenarios #yandere class 1a oneshots #yandere class 1a imagines #yandere class 1a headcanons #platonic yandere erasermic #platonic yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #platonic yandere aizawa x reader x platonic yandere hizashi yamada #platonic yandere erasermic scenarios #platonic yandere aizawa #platonic yandere hizashi yamada

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muletia · 7 months ago

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𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 — [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐] ⊹₊⟡⋆

[tfp] yandere!soundwave x human!reader

summary: over time, you stopped screaming, stopped struggling. as it turns out, it has its benefits.

cw: yandere, kidnapping, isolation, reader's pov, implied stockholm syndrome, silliness

word count: 925

[part 1] / [part 3]

Goliath returned, ending your loneliness. You smile at the sight of him, more out of habit, automatically than from genuine joy. It was a game, a performance. And you played the lead role. Besides, you already knew well that your alien liked it when you showed happiness, no matter the form.

You wave at him, not particularly interested in his usual actions, which, in most cases, followed the same pattern. Your eyes return to the movie you’re watching. Soon, he’ll ask you, without words, what you’re currently doing, and you’ll have to give a detailed explanation of the book you’re reading or the movie you’re watching. Then, he’ll start working, typing unfamiliar symbols and letters on the keyboard, standing in the same spot, in the same position, for hours on end, occasionally asking your opinion on something—because he liked listening to you. A routine you had grown very familiar with.

But today is different. The titan carries something unusual in his hand, something that breaks the routine. He places the item on the desk, right in front of you, finally earning your attention. Oh?

You put your tablet aside and wriggle out from under the warm blanket. The robot has brought you a large cardboard box, filled to the brim with a random assortment of items. It’s been a while since he last gave you something for “good behavior,” but you’re not about to complain. The more little things that made your life feel normal, the better—even if longing choked you now and then. It was nice to have human things in a world where nothing was human. It was nice to pretend your life was normal.

The box’s contents are chaotic and uncoordinated, and digging through it doesn’t improve the impression. A mushroom-shaped desk lamp, a black pillow, a deck of cards, two pairs of pants two sizes too big, a pack of bottled water, and a stack of instant noodle packets… Somewhere in there, you even spot an iron and a copy of Stardew Valley for a console you didn’t own. You wonder where he could have gotten such random items, but robbing a delivery truck probably wouldn’t have posed much of a challenge for him—nor would breaking into a parcel locker.

“Thanks for everything.” Because trying to explain the moral implications of stealing to the robot who abducted you would definitely be a very fruitful discussion.

A smiling emoji appears on his screen. At this point, he should leave you alone and get back to work, but he doesn’t. Once again, he breaks the routine. He stands stiffly in the same spot, tilting his helmet toward you. Watching. Was he curious about how you’d use his gifts? You could gladly show him—if most of them weren’t useless to you. Worse still, you couldn’t tell him that, too afraid of risking his anger and losing the privileges you already had. Besides—Christ—you hated yourself for thinking this way, but his efforts were endearing and came from good intentions. You couldn’t bring yourself to explain that no, you had no use for an iron in your current circumstances, and next time, he should bring you something practical.

You were probably starting to lose it. And the titan was still waiting.

Eventually, you decide to pull out the deck of cards and quickly open it. Aside from the food and water, it’s probably the most useful item in the box since at least you could think of an immediate use for it. Sitting cross-legged on the cold surface, you shiver slightly, missing your warm nest, but keep fiddling with the cards, determined to please your silent observer. Engrossed in the activity, you don’t notice when something moves toward you, silent and quick. It’s only when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye that you snap back to reality.

The robot has extended one of his tentacles, wrapping it behind your back, cutting you off from your little corner. For a moment, you’re terrified. What was he planning? Was he going to lift you? Crush you? He was finally tired of you, wasn’t he? Your fears are quickly dispelled, however, as the tentacle merely curls around you, resting against your back. And it’s warm. So very warm. You don’t even try to resist, leaning into the warm metal, though you know full well he could have just handed you one of your blankets.

“Thank you,” you smile, and the screen now shows a heart emoji. “Hey, have you ever seen a magic trick?”

It’s a silly question, one you should never ask a giant, highly advanced alien. But if he wanted to actively participate in your day so badly, he’d have to give you an answer. Besides, if his feelings toward you hadn’t changed, maybe he’d actually care.

He shakes his head, and you smile. Because it’s silly and insane, because all of this is a farce, because you sincerely want to impress him. Because this silent robot is slowly planting roots in your heart, even though you built walls around it long ago.

“Great! Pick a card.”

You can’t tell if the trick impresses him. Maybe he figured out your technique immediately, maybe he was more focused on the interaction itself, or maybe he thought it was stupid. His thoughts and feelings were inaccessible to you, locked behind silence. But when he points at the cards, clearly asking you for more, you allow yourself to forget your situation and who you’re dealing with—for just one moment letting his warmth seep into your heart.

#transformers #transformers x reader #yandere #yandere!soundwave #yandere!soundwave x reader

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literatureloverx · 10 months ago

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BSD MEN AND MBTI TYPES [+ their darlings]

So, I’m not sure how many are aware of what MBTI is, but I got a few requests on making an analysis about this for BSD MEN and incorporating their ideal type! darlings’ MBTI types as well, so I did. (I kind of promised that I would do it, so now is the time.)❤️

I want you to know, it wasn’t intentional to place one type as the ideal match for multiple characters. I thought it through thoroughly and did my best to remain as logical and diverse in MBTI types as possible. It’s just that strong Fe users are often a good match for broken people and…well…BSD men are mostly broken.

Here is a brief explanation what MBTI and cognitive functions are, for those who are not familiar with it. If you are familiar with it, you can simply skip to the next paragraph under the thinner cut.❤️

Explanation MBTI: The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) is a tool used to understand different personality types based on how people prefer to interact with the world and make decisions. Created by Isabel Briggs Myers and Katharine Cook Briggs, it’s based on ideas from Carl Jung about how people think and behave. MBTI types are 16 four-letter combinations such as INFP or ESTP, that are designed with each 4 primary cognitive functions that are being used frequently by each person. There are 8 cognitive functions, and we all use all of them, however, 4 are always the most comfortable and prominent.

Detailed Explanation of Cognitive Functions: Cognitive functions are specific mental processes that shape how we understand and interact with the world. Each function has a particular role and works in conjunction with others to influence personality. Here’s a closer look at each of the eight cognitive functions:

1. Extraverted Sensing (Se): This function involves focusing on the present moment and taking in information through the senses. People who rely on Se are very aware of their surroundings and enjoy engaging with their environment actively. They tend to live in the moment and respond to immediate sensory experiences.

2. Introverted Sensing (Si): Si involves recalling past experiences and using that information to understand the present. People with strong Si focus on details and how things have been done before. They rely on their memories and internal impressions to make sense of the world.

3. Extraverted Intuition (Ne): Ne is about exploring possibilities and seeing connections between different ideas. Those who use Ne are good at brainstorming and considering multiple potential outcomes. They enjoy thinking about future possibilities and spotting patterns that aren’t immediately obvious.

4. Introverted Intuition (Ni): Ni involves forming insights and understanding future implications based on internal reflections. People with dominant Ni often have a clear vision of how things might unfold and focus on long-term outcomes and deep, conceptual understandings.

5. Extraverted Thinking (Te): This function focuses on organizing and structuring the external world based on logic and efficiency. People who use Te prioritize objective criteria and practical solutions, often seeking to improve systems and achieve measurable results.

6. Introverted Thinking (Ti): Ti involves analyzing and refining ideas based on internal logic. Individuals with strong Ti prefer to understand concepts deeply and develop their own internal frameworks for how things should work. They value precision and consistency in their thoughts.

7. Extraverted Feeling (Fe): Fe is concerned with understanding and responding to the emotions and needs of others. People with strong Fe are focused on creating harmony in their social environments and are sensitive to the feelings of those around them. They often work to ensure that everyone’s needs are met and that social interactions are smooth.

8. Introverted Feeling (Fi): Fi involves making decisions based on personal values and internal emotional responses. Those with dominant Fi focus on staying true to their own principles and beliefs. They prioritize authenticity and personal integrity, making choices that align with their internal values.

Each MBTI personality type has a specific hierarchy of these functions. The dominant function is the primary way a person interacts with the world, while the auxiliary function supports it. The tertiary function is less developed, and the inferior function is the least developed and often a source of stress or growth.

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

INTJ (The Mastermind/Architect) - Ni > Te > Fi > Se

Fyodor's dominant function, Introverted Intuition (Ni), reveals itself in his visionary, long-term thinking and his deep strategic foresight. Fyodor operates on a plane that transcends the immediate and the obvious.

He sees patterns, connections, and the potential outcomes of his actions far into the future, often perceiving the world in ways that others simply cannot comprehend.

His overarching goal—to cleanse humanity of its sins—demonstrates a profound understanding of abstract concepts and an almost prophetic ability to see beyond the present, traits quintessential to a dominant Ni user.

Next, we have Extroverted Thinking (Te), Fyodor's auxiliary function, which he employs with ruthless efficiency. His actions are driven by a need to impose order and structure on the chaotic world around him, aligning perfectly with Te's desire for effectiveness and productivity.

Fyodor’s methods, while morally ambiguous, are meticulously planned and executed with precision. This function supports his Ni visions, allowing him to implement his grand schemes with logical, calculated steps.

His ability to manipulate people and situations to his advantage is a direct result of Te’s influence, prioritizing objective outcomes over personal feelings.

His tertiary function, Introverted Feeling (Fi), is less overt but still crucial to understanding his character.

While Fyodor presents a cold, calculating exterior, his actions are ultimately guided by an internal value system—no matter how warped it might seem.

Fyodor's Fi manifests in his unwavering belief in his mission and his disdain for those who fail to meet his moral standards. He perceives himself as a savior of humanity, driven by an intrinsic sense of right and wrong that only he truly understands.

This Fi also explains why Fyodor is so selective about who he allows into his inner world. A potential darling, for instance, would need to align with his deeply held values, reinforcing the notion that Fyodor’s emotional connections are reserved for those who resonate with his internal compass.

Lastly, Fyodor’s inferior function, Extroverted Sensing (Se), is the least developed, manifesting in his apparent disconnection from the physical world.

Unlike characters who thrive on sensory experiences, Fyodor often appears aloof and detached from his surroundings. His focus on abstract ideas over tangible realities suggests a discomfort with Se.

He surrounds himself with serene and controlled environments—places where sensory overload is minimized, and he can concentrate on his internal visions. This discomfort with the physical world further isolates him, reinforcing his preference for solitude and reflection.

In conclusion, Fyodor embodies the traits of an INTJ through his dominant Ni, which allows him to see far-reaching possibilities and plan accordingly; his auxiliary Te, which drives his strategic actions and manipulations; his tertiary Fi, which shapes his personal values and judgments; and his inferior Se, which leads to a disconnect from the immediate physical world.

These cognitive functions, taken together, explain his complex and morally ambiguous character, as well as his potential preferences in a partner—someone who would understand and complement his internal world without disrupting the carefully constructed order he seeks to maintain.

His darling: INFP - Fi > Ne > Si > Te

or INFJ - Ni > Fe > Ti > Se

INFP (The Mediator / Idealist):

In the intricate labyrinth of Fyodor’s mind, where Introverted Intuition (Ni) reigns supreme (this sounds so serious lmao), an INFP female darling would offer an unparalleled balance and harmony.

Her dominant function, Introverted Feeling (Fi), would resonate deeply with Fyodor's own Fi, albeit in a more developed and nuanced form.

While Fyodor’s Fi is selective, almost reclusive, it is this very selectiveness that makes an INFP’s Fi the perfect match. She possesses an intrinsic moral compass, one that is authentic and unwavering, but unlike Fyodor’s, it is deeply empathetic.

Her Fi would draw out the softer, more vulnerable aspects of his tertiary Fi, helping to humanize the rigid internal values that guide his every move.

The INFP’s Extroverted Intuition (Ne), her auxiliary function, would offer Fyodor something he might not even realize he craves—a partner who can perceive multiple possibilities and ideas without being constrained by rigid logic or efficiency.

Her Ne would inject a sense of wonder and exploration into Fyodor’s meticulously controlled world. Unlike the ruthless precision of his Te, her Ne is imaginative, often seeing potential in areas Fyodor’s Ni might overlook (seriously, this man would NEVER overlook anything but let’s stick to that for the narrative).

This openness to possibility would challenge Fyodor, gently encouraging him to see beyond his single-minded visions, adding layers of depth to his already profound insights.

Furthermore, the INFP’s Introverted Sensing (Si) as a tertiary function would provide a subtle, yet grounding influence on Fyodor.

While Fyodor’s inferior Se leaves him disconnected from the physical world, the INFP’s Si, though not dominant, would allow her to appreciate the simple, sensory experiences of life.

She could offer Fyodor a gentle introduction to these experiences, helping him connect, even briefly, with the present moment. Her Si would serve as a quiet anchor, providing stability without overwhelming his discomfort with Se.

Lastly, her Extroverted Thinking (Te) as an inferior function would ensure that while she respects Fyodor’s logical and structured approach, she would not challenge his authority or disrupt the order he values so highly. Instead, her Te would emerge in moments when practicality is required, complementing Fyodor’s own Te without competing with it.

This would create a dynamic where she supports his strategies and plans, but with a gentle touch that allows his Te to dominate, thus preserving the balance of power in the relationship.

In conclusion, an INFP female darling would not only complement Fyodor’s complex INTJ personality but would also provide a much-needed counterbalance to his intensity.

Her Fi would resonate with his, but with a warmth and empathy that could soften his cold, calculating exterior. Her Ne would challenge and expand his Ni, offering new perspectives and possibilities.

Her Si would ground him, even if only slightly, in the present moment, while her inferior Te would respect and subtly support his strategic dominance.

Together, they would form a partnership where his visionary goals are met with understanding, warmth, and a touch of whimsy—qualities that, in the end, may be precisely what Fyodor needs, even if he cannot fully articulate it.

INFJ (The Advocate/Counselor):

An INFJ female darling would be the second-best match for Fyodor, harmonizing with his complex, enigmatic nature while still offering a dynamic that enriches his inner world.

As an INFJ, her dominant function, Introverted Intuition (Ni), aligns perfectly with Fyodor's own Ni, creating a profound connection rooted in their shared ability to perceive the world through abstract, visionary lenses.

This mutual understanding of the intangible and the hidden would foster a relationship where both partners feel deeply understood, even in their most esoteric thoughts. Fyodor, who often finds himself isolated in his strategic foresight, would find in the INFJ a partner who not only comprehends but complements his intuitive depth.

Her Extroverted Feeling (Fe) as an auxiliary function introduces a crucial element of emotional intelligence that Fyodor lacks. While Fyodor’s tertiary Introverted Feeling (Fi) shapes his internal value system, it is often cold, detached, and selectively applied.

The INFJ’s Fe, however, is outwardly focused, naturally attuned to the emotions and needs of others. This function would provide Fyodor with a compassionate, empathetic counterpart who can navigate social dynamics and offer a broader perspective on human emotions—something his Te might dismiss as irrelevant.

The INFJ's Fe would soften Fyodor’s rigid moral judgments, gently encouraging him to consider the emotional consequences of his actions, thereby broadening his understanding of the world beyond his own internal values.

Moreover, the INFJ's Introverted Thinking (Ti), her tertiary function, would subtly complement Fyodor's auxiliary Te. While her Ti is less overt, it allows her to engage in deep, reflective thinking, often uncovering logical inconsistencies or hidden truths in complex situations.

Her Ti would not threaten his Te-driven need for control and order but would instead offer a nuanced, thoughtful perspective that Fyodor could appreciate, particularly when his Ni-driven visions require careful refinement.

This quiet analytical ability would appeal to Fyodor's Te, creating moments of intellectual synergy where both can engage in strategic planning and problem-solving.

Lastly, the INFJ's Extroverted Sensing (Se) as an inferior function mirrors Fyodor's own inferior Se, establishing a shared discomfort with the immediate, sensory world.

This mutual weakness might initially seem like a drawback, but it would actually deepen their bond. Both partners would understand and respect each other's preference for controlled, serene environments, where they can retreat from the overwhelming demands of the physical world.

Their shared Se would reinforce their tendency towards introspection and visionary thinking, ensuring that their relationship remains focused on the abstract, the intellectual, and the strategic.

In conclusion, an INFJ female darling offers Fyodor a harmonious blend of shared intuitive depth and complementary emotional intelligence.

Her Ni resonates with his, creating a deep, almost mystical connection, while her Fe introduces warmth and empathy into his otherwise cold, calculated world.

Her Ti supports and refines his Te-driven plans without challenging his authority, and their shared inferior Se creates a mutual understanding of their need for isolation from the sensory overload of the external world.

While an INFP might provide a softer, more whimsical counterbalance, the INFJ offers a partnership rooted in shared vision and mutual understanding, making her the second-best match for Fyodor's complex, INTJ personality.

DAZAI OSAMU

ENTP (The Debater / Visionary) - Ne > Ti > Fe > Si

Dazai’s dominant function, Extraverted Intuition (Ne), reveals itself in his constant exploration of possibilities and his ability to see multiple angles in any situation.

Dazai operates in a world of endless potential, always considering what could be rather than what is. This makes him unpredictable and difficult to pin down, as he is always a step ahead, contemplating outcomes and scenarios that others might overlook.

His strategic brilliance is a direct result of his Ne, allowing him to manipulate events and people with a creativity that is unmatched.

Dazai’s love for chaos and his playful, almost mischievous nature also stem from this dominant function, as he thrives in environments where he can test boundaries and explore new ideas.

Next, we have Introverted Thinking (Ti), Dazai’s auxiliary function, which he uses to analyze situations with a cold, logical precision.

Ti drives Dazai to understand the underlying mechanics of the world around him, breaking down complex problems into their fundamental components. This function is what gives Dazai his sharp, analytical mind, allowing him to devise intricate plans and see through the facades of others.

His Ti also explains his philosophical musings and existential questioning, as he is constantly trying to make sense of the world and his place in it. Despite his often lighthearted demeanor, there is a deeply intellectual side to Dazai that is always at work, dissecting and evaluating everything he encounters.

His tertiary function, Extraverted Feeling (Fe), is less prominent but still plays a crucial role in how Dazai interacts with others. While he often comes across as detached, Dazai is acutely aware of social dynamics and the emotions of those around him.

He uses this awareness to his advantage, charming or manipulating others as the situation requires. Fe allows Dazai to adapt to different social environments effortlessly, making him a social chameleon who can navigate complex interpersonal relationships with ease.

However, this function also reveals a more manipulative side to Dazai, as he tends to use his understanding of emotions not to connect with others, but to influence and control them.

Lastly, Dazai’s inferior function, Introverted Sensing (Si), is the least developed, manifesting in his apparent disconnection from tradition and the past.

Unlike characters who draw strength from their memories or rely on established routines, Dazai is often seen rejecting or ignoring these aspects of life.

His Si deficiency is evident in his restless nature and his constant search for new experiences, as he struggles to find meaning or stability in what has already been.

This disconnect from Si also contributes to his existential despair, as he finds it difficult to ground himself in any lasting sense of identity or purpose.

In conclusion, Dazai embodies the traits of an ENTP through his dominant Ne, which fuels his endless curiosity and strategic foresight; his auxiliary Ti, which sharpens his analytical thinking; his tertiary Fe, which he uses to navigate and manipulate social interactions; and his inferior Si, which leads to a sense of disconnection from tradition and the past.

These cognitive functions, taken together, explain his complex and often contradictory character, as well as his tendency to oscillate between playful banter and deep existential reflection.

His darling: INFJ - Ni > Fe > Ti > Se

Or ENFJ - Fe > Ni > Se > Ti

INFJ (The Advocate/Counselor):

For Dazai, an INFJ female darling would be the ideal match, complementing and balancing his complex, multifaceted ENTP nature.

Dazai’s dominant Extraverted Intuition (Ne) thrives on possibilities, unpredictability, and the exploration of various outcomes, often leading him into chaotic and uncharted territories. An INFJ’s dominant function, Introverted Intuition (Ni), would resonate with Dazai’s Ne, but in a way that brings focus and depth to his endless curiosity.

While Dazai’s Ne scatters in multiple directions, the INFJ’s Ni would help him see the underlying patterns and deeper meaning behind his explorations, guiding his often chaotic energy into more purposeful and profound insights.

Her Ni would provide a sense of direction that Dazai’s Ne sometimes lacks, allowing them to explore the abstract and conceptual together, but with a shared vision rather than aimless wandering.

Her Extroverted Feeling (Fe) as an auxiliary function would offer a crucial emotional anchor for Dazai, whose Extraverted Feeling (Fe), while present, is often used more for manipulation than genuine connection.

The INFJ’s Fe, however, is deeply empathetic, focused on creating harmony and understanding in her relationships. This emotional intelligence would be a soothing balm to Dazai’s restless soul, providing the warmth and connection he often deflects with humor or detachment.

Her Fe would help Dazai engage with his own emotions more honestly, encouraging him to forge deeper, more meaningful relationships rather than merely skimming the surface.

This would be especially significant for Dazai, whose tertiary Fe can sometimes lead him to feel disconnected from others despite his ability to read social dynamics effortlessly.

The INFJ’s Introverted Thinking (Ti), as her tertiary function, would complement Dazai’s auxiliary Ti, creating an intellectual synergy that both would appreciate.

While Dazai uses his Ti to deconstruct the world around him with sharp, analytical precision, the INFJ’s Ti would offer a quieter, more introspective form of analysis.

Her Ti would challenge Dazai’s sometimes impulsive leaps of logic, encouraging him to consider the ethical and philosophical implications of his actions more deeply. Together, their combined Ti would lead to rich, intellectual conversations, where they can explore complex ideas and theories, each offering a perspective that sharpens the other’s understanding.

Lastly, the INFJ’s Extroverted Sensing (Se), though her inferior function, would mirror Dazai’s own inferior Introverted Sensing (Si) in a way that fosters mutual understanding and growth.

Both struggle with staying grounded in the present moment and often feel disconnected from the physical world or their own past.

However, this shared deficiency would allow them to support one another, finding solace in their mutual discomfort.

The INFJ’s Se might encourage Dazai to occasionally step out of his head and experience the world more fully, while Dazai’s Ne could help the INFJ see the potential beyond what is immediately tangible.

Together, they would create a partnership that balances the abstract with the concrete, allowing them to explore both the potential of the future and the reality of the present.

In conclusion, an INFJ female darling would not only complement Dazai’s ENTP nature but also provide the emotional depth, intellectual stimulation, and intuitive insight that he often seeks but struggles to find.

Her Ni would bring focus to his Ne, her Fe would offer genuine emotional connection where his Fe might falter, her Ti would refine his analytical thinking, and their shared challenges with Se and Si would foster a deep understanding of each other’s struggles.

This relationship would offer Dazai a rare blend of intellectual challenge and emotional support, making the INFJ the best possible partner for his complex and often contradictory character.

ENFJ (The Protagonist / Teacher):

An ENFJ female darling would be the second-best match for Dazai Osamu, providing a relationship dynamic that complements and balances his ENTP nature in several key ways.

Dazai’s dominant Extraverted Intuition (Ne) fuels his exploration of possibilities and his knack for seeing multiple angles of any situation. An ENFJ’s dominant Extraverted Feeling (Fe) would harmonize with Dazai’s Ne, but in a manner that emphasizes emotional connection and social harmony.

The ENFJ’s Fe is adept at understanding and influencing others’ emotions, which would provide Dazai with a stabilizing force, guiding his often chaotic and unpredictable Ne through a lens of empathy and relational awareness. Her Fe would help Dazai see beyond his own intellectual pursuits and appreciate the emotional impact of his actions on those around him.

The ENFJ’s Introverted Intuition (Ni) as her auxiliary function complements Dazai’s Ne by providing depth and focus to their shared explorations.

While Dazai’s Ne leads him to constantly generate new ideas and scenarios, the ENFJ’s Ni would help in distilling these possibilities into a coherent vision. This alignment between Ne and Ni would create a synergy where their ideas are not just imaginative but also strategically meaningful.

The ENFJ’s Extraverted Sensing (Se) as her tertiary function brings a practical, immediate awareness that contrasts with Dazai’s own inferior Introverted Sensing (Si).

While Dazai often struggles with connecting to the present moment and the sensory details of life, the ENFJ’s Se would offer a grounding influence.

Her ability to engage with the external environment would provide a counterbalance to Dazai’s tendency to overlook sensory experiences and tradition. This could help Dazai become more attuned to the here-and-now, enriching his experiences and providing a more balanced perspective on life.

Finally, the ENFJ’s Introverted Thinking (Ti), her inferior function, would offer a unique intellectual counterpoint to Dazai’s dominant Ti.

While Dazai’s Ti is sharp and analytical, often used to dissect and strategize, the ENFJ’s Ti, though less developed, would bring a different flavor of logical analysis.

Her Ti would provide a thoughtful, albeit less dominant, approach to problem-solving, complementing Dazai’s more assertive analytical style. This could lead to rich, nuanced discussions where her perspective enhances his own.

In summary, an ENFJ darling would offer Dazai a blend of emotional depth, strategic insight, and practical grounding.

Her dominant Fe would foster genuine emotional connections and help Dazai consider the social and emotional ramifications of his actions.

Her Ni would add depth and direction to his Ne-driven explorations, making their intellectual pursuits more coherent.

Her Se would ground him in the present, counterbalancing his detachment from sensory experiences, while her Ti would complement and refine his analytical approaches.

Together, they would form a partnership where Dazai’s intellectual brilliance is balanced by the ENFJ’s warmth, vision, and practical insight, making her an excellent second-best match for his dynamic ENTP personality.

In conclusion, an INFJ would offer Dazai deep emotional understanding and intuitive focus, complementing his Ne with depth and introspection.

In contrast, an ENFJ would provide vibrant emotional support and practical grounding, balancing his Ne with empathy and vision while offering immediate sensory awareness.

Both types would enrich Dazai’s life, with the INFJ providing profound, intuitive insight and the ENFJ offering dynamic emotional connection and practical stability.

NAKAHARA CHUUYA

ESTP ( The Entrepreneur / Dynamo) - Se > Ti > Fe > Ni

Chuuya is a character who clearly exemplifies the ESTP personality type. His energetic demeanor, tactical mindset, and grounded approach to life can be understood through the lens of this personality type, revealing a man who thrives on action, pragmatic problem-solving, and sensory experiences.

At the forefront of Chuuya’s character is his dominant function, Extraverted Sensing (Se). This function drives Chuuya’s immediate, action-oriented approach to life. He is intensely aware of his surroundings, reacting quickly to changes and seizing opportunities as they arise.

Chuuya’s preference for hands-on engagement and his readiness to dive into action reflect his high Se, which is evident in his frequent physical confrontations and his ability to handle high-pressure situations with remarkable composure.

His keen sense of fashion is also a manifestation of his Se—his attention to stylish, elegant attire and personal presentation highlights his acute awareness of his environment and his desire to make a tangible impact on those around him.

This focus on immediate, sensory experiences underscores his reliance on Se, making him a master of adapting to and manipulating his environment in real-time.

Next is Introverted Thinking (Ti), Chuuya’s auxiliary function, which supports his strategic prowess and decision-making. While Chuuya is often seen as impulsive and driven by immediate sensations, his actions are underpinned by a logical framework that guides his responses and strategies.

His Ti helps him analyze situations with a critical eye, allowing him to understand and exploit the underlying mechanics of conflicts and challenges. This function contributes to his ability to think on his feet and devise practical solutions to complex problems, aligning with his reputation as a formidable tactician within the Port Mafia.

Extraverted Feeling (Fe), Chuuya’s tertiary function, reveals itself in his interactions with others and his capacity for emotional expression.

While Chuuya may come across as brash and direct, his Fe is evident in his concern for his allies and his desire for harmony within his sphere of influence.

His loyalty and protective nature, particularly toward those he values, highlight his underlying emotional sensitivity and his need to maintain social cohesion.

Although he may not always express his feelings openly, his actions often reflect a deep-seated desire to connect with and support those he cares about, indicating that his Fe is engaged in maintaining relationships and managing social dynamics.

Finally, Chuuya’s inferior function, Introverted Intuition (Ni), is the least developed and manifests as a disinterest or discomfort with long-term planning and abstract conceptualization.

Unlike characters who are comfortable envisioning future possibilities and intricate schemes, Chuuya is more focused on the present moment and immediate concerns.

His actions and decisions are primarily driven by the current situation rather than long-term projections, suggesting that he is less inclined to engage in deep, abstract thinking.

This disconnection from Ni is reflected in his preference for direct action over speculative or future-oriented planning.

In conclusion, Chuuya embodies the ESTP personality through his dominant Se, which drives his action-oriented and sensory-focused approach, including his keen sense of fashion; his auxiliary Ti, which supports his tactical thinking and problem-solving; his tertiary Fe, which influences his emotional interactions and loyalty; and his inferior Ni, which leads to a preference for present-focused, pragmatic decisions.

His darling: ISFJ - Si > Fe > Ti > Ne

Or ESFJ - Fe > Si > Ne >Ti

ISFJ (The Protector / Defender)

An ISFJ female darling would be the ideal match for Chuuya Nakahara, providing a harmonious balance to his dynamic ESTP personality. Her dominant Introverted Sensing (Si) would offer the grounding and stability that Chuuya, with his action-oriented and spontaneous approach to life, often lacks.

Her strong connection to tradition and the past would provide a comforting anchor for Chuuya, helping him appreciate consistency and reliability, which are sometimes overlooked in his pursuit of immediate, sensory experiences.

The ISFJ’s Extraverted Feeling (Fe) would perfectly complement Chuuya’s tertiary Fe, creating a nurturing and emotionally supportive relationship.

While Chuuya’s Fe drives him to protect and connect with those he cares about, her more developed Fe would bring warmth, compassion, and an understanding of social dynamics that could soften Chuuya’s rougher edges.

Her natural ability to maintain harmony and cater to the emotional needs of others would resonate with Chuuya’s loyalty and protectiveness, fostering a deep emotional bond based on mutual care and respect.

Her Introverted Thinking (Ti), though secondary to her Si and Fe, would align well with Chuuya’s auxiliary Ti. Both would appreciate each other’s logical approach to problem-solving and decision-making.

Her Ti would offer a calm, methodical perspective that could help Chuuya refine his strategies and think through the consequences of his actions more thoroughly, especially in situations where his impulsive nature might otherwise lead him astray.

Lastly, the ISFJ’s Extraverted Intuition (Ne), as her inferior function, would introduce a subtle yet valuable element of novelty and open-mindedness into the relationship. While her Ne is less dominant, it would still encourage Chuuya to occasionally consider new possibilities and explore ideas beyond his immediate focus.

This would add a refreshing dynamic to their relationship, allowing them to grow together as they explore new experiences within the safety and security of their shared bond.

In conclusion, an ISFJ female darling would provide Chuuya with the stability, emotional support, and subtle encouragement he needs to thrive both personally and within his intense lifestyle. Her grounding Si, nurturing Fe, logical Ti, and adaptable Ne would create a balanced and fulfilling relationship, making her the best match for Chuuya’s ESTP personality.

ESFJ (The Provider / Consul)

An ESFJ female darling would be an excellent second option for Chuuya Nakahara, offering a complementary dynamic to his ESTP personality. Her dominant Extraverted Feeling (Fe) would naturally resonate with Chuuya’s own Fe, albeit at a more developed level, creating a relationship built on mutual emotional understanding and a strong sense of loyalty.

While Chuuya’s Fe drives him to protect and maintain harmony within his circle, her Fe would bring an even deeper focus on fostering social connections and ensuring that the emotional needs of those around them are met.

This shared focus on relationships would strengthen their bond and make them a formidable team when it comes to navigating the social complexities of their world.

The ESFJ’s Introverted Sensing (Si), as her auxiliary function, would offer Chuuya the stability and groundedness he sometimes lacks in his spontaneous and action-driven approach to life.

Her strong connection to tradition and the past would provide a comforting and steady influence, helping Chuuya to appreciate the value of consistency and reliability in both his personal life and his role within the Port Mafia.

This would be especially valuable in moments when Chuuya’s dominant Se might lead him to prioritize the thrill of the present over long-term stability.

Her tertiary Extraverted Intuition (Ne) would also introduce a subtle, yet important element of adaptability and creativity into their relationship.

While Chuuya’s focus is often on the immediate and concrete, her Ne would encourage him to explore new ideas and possibilities, adding a layer of flexibility and innovation to their partnership.

This could help Chuuya think beyond the immediate and consider different perspectives, which could be particularly useful in his tactical decision-making.

Finally, the ESFJ’s Introverted Thinking (Ti), though less developed, would complement Chuuya’s auxiliary Ti by providing a more structured and methodical approach to problem-solving.

Her Ti would help balance Chuuya’s sometimes impulsive decision-making, encouraging him to consider the logical implications of his actions in a more deliberate manner.

In summary, an ESFJ female darling would be a wonderful partner for Chuuya, offering emotional depth, stability, and a complementary approach to both their social and practical lives.

Her Fe and Si would harmonize well with Chuuya’s own functions, while her Ne and Ti would provide subtle but important enhancements to their relationship, making her an excellent second-best option for Chuuya’s ESTP personality.

NIKOLAI GOGOL

(I will update this!)

ENTP (The Debater / Visionary) - Ne > Ti > Fe > Si

This one was hard, he is not easy to type. I considered ENFP < ESFP and < ENTP. I ended up picking ENTP for him.

Extraverted Intuition (Ne), the ENTP's dominant function, manifests vividly in Nikolai's boundless exploration of ideas and possibilities. His constant drive to test boundaries and challenge conventional norms speaks to an ENTP's relentless pursuit of novel experiences and understanding.

Nikolai’s actions, driven by a desire to prove his liberation from emotional constraints, are classic Ne — his approach to life is experimental and driven by a fascination with the abstract and unconventional.

His decision to engage in morally questionable acts to demonstrate his freedom from human limitations further illustrates his inclination toward exploring and expanding his conceptual horizons, a hallmark of Ne’s propensity for envisioning endless possibilities.

Introverted Thinking (Ti), the auxiliary function of an ENTP, underpins Nikolai’s strategic and analytical nature. Despite his apparent recklessness, Nikolai's actions are meticulously calculated to achieve his goal of emotional and psychological transcendence.

His ability to analyze and deconstruct situations logically, while crafting elaborate plans to prove his independence from societal norms, underscores the role of Ti. This function supports his propensity for complex problem-solving and his knack for understanding the underlying principles of his actions, even if those principles involve pushing ethical boundaries.

Extraverted Feeling (Fe), as the tertiary function, reflects Nikolai’s awareness of social dynamics and his manipulation of them to serve his ends. While Nikolai exhibits a certain detachment from the emotional impact of his actions, his awareness of and strategic use of social interactions are indicative of Fe.

He navigates social contexts with a calculated precision, aiming to influence and manipulate perceptions to align with his personal ideals. This function reveals his skill in using emotional insights to further his agenda, even as he maintains an outward appearance of detachment.

Introverted Sensing (Si), the inferior function, highlights Nikolai's lesser focus on detailed past experiences and established conventions. ENTPs typically exhibit a less pronounced interest in the specifics of past experiences, preferring instead to innovate and explore new possibilities.

Nikolai’s disregard for the emotional weight of his actions and his preference for forward-thinking experimentation over reflective consideration of past experiences align with Si’s inferior role. His approach to life is characterized by a focus on present and future possibilities rather than a detailed engagement with past experiences.

In summary, Nikolai Gogol embodies the ENTP personality type through his dominant Ne, which drives his exploration of unconventional ideas and possibilities; his auxiliary Ti, which supports his strategic and analytical thinking; his tertiary Fe, which influences his social manipulation and awareness; and his inferior Si, which reflects his limited focus on past details and experiences.

His darling: ENFJ (Fe>Ni>Se>Ti)

Or ESFJ (Fe>Si>Ne>Ti)

ENFJ (The Protagonist / Teacher):

An ENFJ female darling would be the ideal match for Nikolai Gogol, perfectly complementing and balancing his ENTP personality with her emotional intelligence, visionary thinking, and ability to bring out the best in others.

Her dominant Extraverted Feeling (Fe) would be crucial in connecting with Nikolai on an emotional level, something he often neglects due to his detached and experimental approach to life.

Her natural empathy and understanding of social dynamics would allow her to navigate Nikolai’s complex personality, helping him engage with the emotional consequences of his actions and bringing a sense of humanity to his otherwise abstract pursuits.

Her Introverted Intuition (Ni) would align beautifully with Nikolai’s dominant Ne, providing a sense of shared vision and purpose. While Nikolai is constantly exploring new possibilities and pushing boundaries, the ENFJ’s Ni would offer a deeper, more focused perspective, helping him to see the long-term implications of his actions and to channel his boundless creativity towards meaningful goals. This partnership would enable Nikolai to balance his constant experimentation with a more grounded and purposeful approach to life.

The ENFJ’s Extraverted Sensing (Se), as her tertiary function, would complement Nikolai’s auxiliary Ti by helping him stay connected to the present moment and the tangible world around him.

While he is often caught up in abstract ideas and strategic thinking, her Se would encourage him to appreciate the immediate beauty of life, grounding his experiences in reality. This would help Nikolai to not only plan and theorize but also to enjoy and engage with the present in a more sensory, fulfilling way.

Finally, the ENFJ’s Introverted Thinking (Ti), though less developed, would still offer a subtle, logical structure that could help Nikolai refine his thoughts and ideas.

Her Ti would gently support his complex problem-solving processes, ensuring that his plans and strategies are both emotionally and logically sound. This balance would help Nikolai avoid the potential pitfalls of over-theorizing or becoming too detached from reality, giving him a well-rounded perspective on life.

In summary, an ENFJ female darling would provide the emotional depth, visionary focus, and practical grounding that Nikolai needs to thrive.

Her Fe would connect with him on an emotional level, her Ni would align with his visionary thinking, her Se would help him stay grounded in the present, and her Ti would offer subtle logical support. Together, these qualities would make her the best possible match for Nikolai, bringing out the best in his complex, ENTP personality.

ESFJ ( The Provider / Consul):

An ESFJ female darling would be an excellent second-best match for Nikolai Gogol, offering a grounding and nurturing presence that complements his ENTP personality. Her dominant Extraverted Feeling (Fe) would provide the strong emotional connection that Nikolai often overlooks in his pursuit of abstract ideas and unconventional experiences. Her natural empathy and desire to maintain harmony in relationships would help balance Nikolai’s more detached and experimental tendencies, encouraging him to consider the emotional impact of his actions on those around him.

The ESFJ’s Introverted Sensing (Si), as her auxiliary function, would contrast with Nikolai’s inferior Si, helping him to connect with and appreciate the past and established traditions. While Nikolai is constantly focused on exploring new possibilities and pushing boundaries, her Si would offer him a sense of continuity and stability. She could help him ground his ideas in reality by drawing on past experiences and proven methods, ensuring that his innovative approaches are not only creative but also practical and effective.

Her Extraverted Intuition (Ne), as a tertiary function, would resonate with Nikolai’s dominant Ne, creating a shared enthusiasm for exploring possibilities and generating new ideas. While her Ne is less dominant, it would still enable her to understand and engage with Nikolai’s creative mind, supporting his need for intellectual stimulation and novel experiences. This alignment would allow them to enjoy dynamic and adventurous conversations, keeping their relationship intellectually vibrant.

Finally, the ESFJ’s Introverted Thinking (Ti), though her inferior function, would offer a subtle but important balance to Nikolai’s strong Ti. Her Ti would help her understand and appreciate the logical structure of Nikolai’s thoughts, even if she doesn’t naturally prioritize logic in the same way. This would allow her to support his analytical processes while still bringing a more compassionate and emotionally aware perspective to their interactions.

In summary, an ESFJ female darling would bring emotional warmth, stability, and a shared enthusiasm for new experiences to Nikolai’s life. Her Fe would nurture and balance his more detached tendencies, her Si would ground his ideas in reality, her Ne would complement his creative exploration, and her Ti would offer subtle logical support.

These qualities make her a strong second-best match for Nikolai, helping him to connect more deeply with others while still enjoying the intellectual and creative stimulation he craves.

AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE

ISFP (The Adventurer / Composer ) - Fi > Se > Ni > Te

Akutagawa's dominant function, Introverted Feeling (Fi), reveals itself in his deeply personal sense of morality and the intense emotions that drive his actions. Although Akutagawa often appears cold and ruthless, his actions are motivated by a strong internal value system that he seldom reveals to others.

His need for validation, particularly from Dazai, is rooted in a profound sense of inadequacy and a desperate desire to prove his worth. This internal emotional landscape, characterized by Fi, defines Akutagawa’s motivations and underlies his quest for recognition, even as he grapples with feelings of rejection and worthlessness.

Next, we have Extraverted Sensing (Se), Akutagawa’s auxiliary function, which manifests in his acute awareness of his physical surroundings and his reactive combat style. Akutagawa thrives in high-pressure situations, where his ability, Rashomon, is wielded with precision and adaptability.

His Se drives him to engage with the world directly and immediately, making him a formidable force in battle. This function supports his Fi by allowing him to take swift and decisive action in pursuit of his personal goals, often leading to intense and violent encounters that are driven by his emotional undercurrents.

His tertiary function, Introverted Intuition (Ni), plays a subtler but significant role in his character. While Akutagawa is primarily focused on the present, there is a persistent sense of future orientation in his actions.

His Ni is evident in his long-term goal of gaining Dazai’s approval and the way he internalizes past experiences to guide his decisions. This function supports his Fi by giving him a sense of purpose and direction, even if it is often clouded by his immediate emotional responses.

Akutagawa’s Ni also manifests in his ability to foresee the consequences of his actions, though this is often secondary to his more dominant functions.

Lastly, Akutagawa’s inferior function, Extraverted Thinking (Te), is the least developed and manifests in his occasional struggle with logical organization and external structure. While Akutagawa can be strategic and methodical in battle, his approach is more often driven by his emotions and immediate sensory inputs rather than a clear, logical framework.

His Te surfaces when he attempts to impose order or efficiency in his environment, but these efforts are often overshadowed by his more dominant Fi and Se functions.

This inferior Te contributes to his difficulties in aligning his internal values with the external world, leading to a sense of frustration and conflict when his actions fail to achieve the desired results.

In conclusion, Akutagawa embodies the traits of an ISFP through his dominant Fi, which drives his intense emotional core and need for validation; his auxiliary Se, which fuels his reactive and physically engaging combat style; his tertiary Ni, which provides a sense of direction and future orientation; and his inferior Te, which occasionally struggles to impose order on his chaotic inner world.

His darling: ISFJ - Si > Fe > Ti > Ne

Or ENFJ - Fe > Si > Ne > Ti

ISFJ - (The Protector / Defender)

An ISFJ female darling would be the ideal match for Akutagawa, providing the stability, care, and emotional grounding that his turbulent ISFP personality craves.

Her dominant Introverted Sensing (Si) would offer Akutagawa a sense of continuity and reliability, something he deeply lacks in his chaotic life. Her ability to recall and value the past would help him feel anchored, offering him a safe emotional space where he can reflect on his experiences without feeling judged or misunderstood.

This grounding presence would counterbalance his reactive and intense Extraverted Sensing (Se), allowing him to find solace in a more structured, stable environment.

The ISFJ’s Extraverted Feeling (Fe) would complement Akutagawa’s deeply personal Introverted Feeling (Fi) by helping him navigate his emotions in a more outward, constructive manner. Her natural empathy and concern for others would provide him with the validation and understanding he seeks but often feels he doesn’t deserve.

Through her Fe, she would help Akutagawa express his feelings in a way that fosters connection rather than isolation, gradually teaching him that he is valued for who he is, not just for his abilities or his success in battle.

Her Introverted Thinking (Ti), while not as prominent, would provide a quiet, logical framework that could help Akutagawa make sense of his internal conflicts.

This function would assist in gently guiding him toward clearer, more structured thinking without overwhelming his emotional processes. Her Ti would act as a subtle but important counterbalance to his chaotic internal world, offering a perspective that is both patient and rational, helping him organize his thoughts and decisions more effectively.

Lastly, the ISFJ’s Extraverted Intuition (Ne), as her inferior function, would resonate with Akutagawa’s Introverted Intuition (Ni), fostering a mutual understanding of future possibilities and deeper meanings.

While her Ne is less developed, it would still complement his Ni by encouraging him to consider alternative perspectives and outcomes, subtly broadening his view without destabilizing his primary focus.

In summary, an ISFJ female darling would bring the stability, emotional support, and gentle guidance that Akutagawa desperately needs.

Her Si would provide grounding, her Fe would offer emotional understanding, her Ti would introduce subtle logic, and her Ne would complement his intuitive insights.

Together, these qualities would help Akutagawa find the balance and emotional connection he craves, making her the best possible match for him.

ENFJ (The Protagonist / Teacher):

An ENFJ female darling would be the second-best match for Akutagawa, offering him the emotional guidance and supportive leadership that could help him grow beyond his inner turmoil.

Her dominant Extraverted Feeling (Fe) would provide a nurturing and empathetic environment, allowing Akutagawa to feel understood and valued.

Her ability to connect with others on an emotional level would help him open up and express his feelings, easing his deep-seated need for validation and helping him navigate his intense Introverted Feeling (Fi) with more clarity and compassion.

The ENFJ’s Introverted Intuition (Ni) would align with Akutagawa’s own Ni, fostering a shared sense of purpose and vision. Her ability to see the bigger picture and understand the deeper implications of their actions would resonate with his need for meaning and direction.

This connection would help him focus his energy and emotions on long-term goals, providing a sense of purpose that extends beyond his immediate struggles.

Her Extraverted Sensing (Se), as her tertiary function, would complement Akutagawa’s auxiliary Se, encouraging him to engage more fully with the present moment.

While her Se is not as dominant, it would still offer a playful and dynamic energy that could help Akutagawa enjoy life’s experiences more openly and with less fear.

This would balance his sometimes overwhelming focus on immediate, intense sensory inputs, helping him approach situations with a bit more lightness and adaptability.

Lastly, the ENFJ’s Introverted Thinking (Ti), as her inferior function, would provide a subtle but important balance to Akutagawa’s chaotic internal world.

Though not her strongest function, her Ti would still offer a logical framework that could help him analyze situations more objectively. This would aid in softening the extremes of his Fi and Se, guiding him toward more balanced and thoughtful decision-making.

In summary, an ENFJ female darling would bring emotional warmth, shared vision, and a supportive, structured approach to Akutagawa’s life.

Her Fe would help him connect and express his emotions, her Ni would align with his sense of purpose, her Se would complement his present-focused intensity, and her Ti would offer subtle logical support.

Together, these qualities would help Akutagawa find emotional balance and a sense of belonging, making her an excellent match for him.

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