୧ . ⁺゛ ❤︎ diagnosed with ︎ ︎ Ⓒ︎rush-itis ⑅ ₊
ֹ ♡︎ i love love love you ֺ ࣭ ◌
᱙ ࣭ i write stuff ׅ 𝜗 ֹ ۪ i like pink
𓍼 . and i like birds ⤶ . ⊹
ׁ ׁ ┈─ ׁ ♡ masterlist is down below
DEAR READER

Discoholic 🪩

JBB: An Artblog!
cherry valley forever
ojovivo
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
we're not kids anymore.
AnasAbdin
Cosmic Funnies
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
KIROKAZE
almost home

Origami Around

No title available
dirt enthusiast
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Janaina Medeiros
styofa doing anything
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Kaledo Art

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Philippines

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from France
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom

seen from France

seen from Japan
seen from Brazil
@crush-itis
୧ . ⁺゛ ❤︎ diagnosed with ︎ ︎ Ⓒ︎rush-itis ⑅ ₊
ֹ ♡︎ i love love love you ֺ ࣭ ◌
᱙ ࣭ i write stuff ׅ 𝜗 ֹ ۪ i like pink
𓍼 . and i like birds ⤶ . ⊹
ׁ ׁ ┈─ ׁ ♡ masterlist is down below
♡゙ pov: your bae is lowkenuinely crazy
♫ ❤︎ ♫ ❤︎ yandere, doctor!reader x patient
ׄ⠀⠀⠀ ⁺ ✿ ⏦₊ . ˚ ⠀ .⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀˚⠀ ⠀⠀. ⠀⠀ ྀི
໒꒰⑅´͈ ꇴ `͈⑅꒱ა The lines between good and evil blurred into non-existence in Ronnie’s fuzzy vision.
The bright hues bouncing off his blond locks jut out in bold, disheveled strands that made his dark, ebony irises pop; there was not a thought lurking behind his pupils.
He had stopped squirming in the tight straitjacket that secured his violent and monstrous movements, but even that was a literal ellipsis—a brief pause insinuating the upcoming ruthless behaviour of Ronnie.
⠀⠀ ⠀ 🪽 ♡⃘ 𝜗 𝓛ookism 𝓑oys x 𝓖irly!𝓡eader ⑅ ֹ ⊹
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓎢𓎟𓎟 ⠀ spoilers ♡ ahead ⠀𓎟𓎟𓎡
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ㅤଘʕྀི .ܸ ̫ິ .ܸ ྀིʔ ꒪ ⊹ ゚ gangster x good girl cliché ۪
ֹ ✿ ֹ ۪ ( fluff, suggestive, established relationship ) ָ ֹ ⊹
ֺ ࣭ 𝒜llied ׅ ౿ daniel park ㅤ︵⠀🪽⠀ You were a girl from his day school, and he was your classmate till middle school when he ran away from his bullies to move far away, and enrol at J High.
He was embarrassed to admit it, but he had a crush on you for years on end.
You were a special memory he often comes back to whenever he thinks about the past.
But since you were so popular, he couldn’t bring himself to even talk to you back then because he was at the “bottom of the barrel” of the social ladder.
Coincidentally, he met you again in the local park after all those nostalgic years.
He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you again, all dolled up like always with girly, and feminine clothes.
You were on your phone, sitting on the swing when you suddenly tore your attention from your screen to glance at him.
He quickly averted his gaze, hiding away from the hood of his black hoodie, pulling the strings when to his surprise you called out his name.
Daniel wasn’t expecting you’d remember him.
Especially when he had scraped off the extra weight off his skin, and got better.
He really couldn’t believe it.
He was often called “piggy” so his peers back then didn’t even acknowledge him as “Daniel”.
Heck, he could say nobody even knew his name.
But you remembered his name.
You remembered him.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
And when the two of you finally started dating…
Daniel was a bit (understate) of a pervert.
He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander off places they shouldn’t be pointing at.
Nevertheless, he was sweet, and caring.
He liked the way you applied your makeup—he even wanted to try patting your blush, and powder for you once.
However, the excess powder of your compact made him cough in your face, ruining your makeup once.
He wasn’t sure how to fix it, and insisted you looked beautiful even when there was an inconsistent blend of foundation, setting powder, and his saliva all over your nose.
But the moment he told you were prettier without the enhancements, you wiped off your makeup, and it made his heart skip a beat at how beautiful your face was.
He had to clear his throat, and adjust himself for a moment.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Whenever he was too busy, and didn’t have enough time for you, he’ll flood your phone with text messages—inflitirating your phone with the classic “wyd” texts.
He had to know the bits, and the major parts about your day, even the little things in your everyday life you often forget.
He was just afraid someone involved in the four major crews had discovered his relationship with you—had discovered he had someone important to lose.
He was afraid of losing another important person in his life.
He’ll get all worked up whenever you don’t text in time, fearing over the fact you probably stumbled upon some dangerous figure.
He wouldn’t even hesitate to spam call you when you were just taking a peaceful shower or taking an afternoon nap.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Anywho, when Daniel does get a chance of visiting you, he’s arriving with flowers in his hands, pomade in his hair, cologne sprayed on his clothes, and an excited look smeared across his face.
He’ll take you to the mall, and let you go wild with his wallet.
However, holding your shopping bags for you wasn’t the greatest staple for him.
But he’ll still hold them anyway with enthusiasm.
Until his enthusiasm soon withered away when he suddenly saw his friends witnessing him kissing your arse in the shopping mall.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Daniel loves you.
So it was hard to look into your eyes.
Daniel was a master in staring contests, but the way you bat your lashes or blink at him—smile at him, it was hard to maintain eye contact.
His eyes would dilate at yours, and for a moment, he wanted to reveal everything to you.
Your presence was so comforting, it struck a chord in him that made him suddenly just want to confess to you about everything.
The gangs, his involvement with illicit activities… his two bodies.
He felt like he saw something glitter in your eyes—coaxing him to reveal his secrets to you.
It felt like when he did tell you, you wouldn’t care, and would still love him anyway.
You made him honest.
You were a figure that was trustworthy enough to make him want to confess everything about him to you.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎟꣑୧𓎟𓎟𓎡
⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ֹ ✿ ֹ ۪ ( fluff, angst, mamas boy ) ָ ֹ ⊹
ֺ ࣭ 𝒢oddog ׅ ౿ johannes gutenburg ㅤ︵⠀🪽⠀ When Johan started going to school again after years of his face being slapped on the missing poster boards, he caught a glimpse of you walking past him in the crowded corridors of his new high school.
You had a girly clip of a cartoon character attached to your tie, and you also somehow got away with rolling up your skirt a little besides there being a strict dress code system.
He even caught a whiff of the perfume you wore that day when you passed by him.
You were just another student from different classes who happened to always walk by him in the hallways.
Johan didn’t think about you too much until a field trip came along—a trip to some bustling amusement park.
And the train ride to the destination was hellfire.
The kids behind Johan’s seat were thrashing around, playing booming music, and cackling amongst themselves as they shared unfunny jokes they seemed to be gurgling, and hollering at.
Johan cocked the soundtrack blasting in his earbuds to max volume.
He huffed behind his teeth, sinking deeper into the comforting confines of his hoodie.
His hood shadowed his eyes when suddenly you walked in, and asked him if the vacant seat was taken.
He recognized you as the girl in the hallways.
With bated breath, he hesitated before responding by shaking his head.
He was awkward during the whole ride.
He always stared out the window, and perhaps took quick glances at your face in the reflecting glass.
Johan didn’t know why, but his eyes kept on drifting to you unintentionally.
It made him feel nervous.
Even more when the classes finally arrived at the hotel resort they would be staying at.
Unfortunately for him, you had to grace him by being his assigned roommate for the week long field trip.
That was when Johan started to pick up the “biting the nails” habit.
Your mere presence in the tight confinement of your shared room was stressful.
Johan hadn’t even hung out with a girl or talked to one besides his old, childhood friend Mira.
It took him a whole lot to accommodate himself in your presence.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Johan obviously fits the term “mama’s boy” very well considering the sacrifices he made, and the hardships he went through all for his beloved mother.
So to think you’d offer to cook him dinner during the stay at the hotel had him reminded of the days when mommy made him meals, and lunch for school.
He clearly remembered when she also let Mira, and Zack join for lunch whenever they came over at his house.
Your kindness made him feel even more awkward around you.
He mumbled an inaudible “Thank you” before shying away in the bathroom.
Johan had to resort to eating instant meals from the convenience stores when he was still part of Goddog so it was comforting that you offered to cook for him tonight.
He wolfed down your cooking with flustered cheeks, not sure how else he could thank you.
It wasn’t surprising he had a thing for motherly girls with maternal instincts.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
It took a while for Johan to come out of his shell, and get comfortable around you, so when he finally did, he was as clingy as a big cat even when he surrounded himself with his beloved dogs.
He always nuzzled his face against your chest, grumbling, and complaining about the littlest things as you spooned him.
He often came over to your place just to cuddle with you in your bed.
He liked the feel of the way your arms draped over his shoulders, patting his back.
Johan also convinces you to tousle his hair sometimes.
He wanted to be close to you to the point the both of you were sharing each other’s body heat.
He wanted you to press his palms, touch his face, and play with his hair.
He even looks for you when he needs comfort, and reassurance.
Johan wouldn’t like to admit it, but he forces himself not to cry.
For years, the mindset of “manning up” was instilled in his mind, cemented into his brain that he couldn’t bring himself to cry or else he’d be transported back to the time he was humiliated in the pouring rain, his tears falling rivulets down his cheeks—joining the sad cries of the sky.
He hated the rush, the way his face would redden, and the way his heart would race in an abnormally rapid speed as tears prick at the corners of his eyes.
But for some reason, the soft expanse of your touch was an encouragement to let him go all loose.
One night when Johan was nuzzling into your chest as always, you felt the centre of your top beginning to dampen with tears.
And to your surprise, Johan was crying into your arms.
With a hushed whisper, you comforted him, and that only made his heart weaker for you.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Johan was overly protective about you.
Even the mention of your name made him tense at the fact someone was saying your name.
Many times, he had to restrain himself from doing anything rash.
After all, you didn’t know about his past or the fact he’s done things you’d be too surprised, and perhaps unsettled to hear.
Johan liked that you let him choose your outfits sometimes.
You weren’t sure why you were surprised, but his outfit choices for you weren’t the greatest.
He clipped a bow in your hair, and even buttoned up your sweaters for you.
He liked the way you dressed, and how your wardrobe was full of colours he thought looked beautiful on you.
Your style made him want to try to dress a little fancier whenever the two of you went out together.
His mother even gave him another haircut for your first special, and official day out together.
He made sure to also use the cologne Zack told him to use.
He got you flowers, and a teddy bear that oddly looked like him.
He tried his best.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Johan loves you.
Even his dogs, and his own mother adored you.
His mom is always fussing about when you would come over again.
His dogs would even bark in excitement at the entrance whenever their ears would twitch at the sounds of a car engine, hoping it’d be you.
You were a major part of Johan’s life.
And he couldn’t afford you to be considered a potential target by his adversaries.
So he went on a mission to go through lengths to make that not happen.
And day by day, you noticed the boys in your life shied away from you as if something had happened.
Johan tried his hardest to distract you from flimsy affairs like that, however.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎟꣑୧𓎟𓎟𓎡
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ֹ ✿ ֹ ۪ ( fluff, princess treatment ) ָ ֹ ⊹
ֺ ࣭ ℬig 𝒟eal ׅ ౿ jake kim ㅤ︵⠀🪽⠀ You were the princess, and the youngest, most beloved daughter of one of the bosses from a gang that rivaled Gapryong Kim’s Fist Gang.
You, and Jake used to be secret pen pals.
Unfortunately for the two of you, you had to communicate with him only through letters lest your father find out you were talking with his rival’s son.
You would store Jake’s old letters into your special box, and reread each of your favourite ones.
Although Jake looked like a cold child back then, he was a sweet jokester who was fond of your hijinks.
He’d write you jokes you’d laugh at that were written in chicken scratch, and he’d also press wilted flowers inside the letters.
One time, he had even given you a half licked flat lollipop in the envelope.
It was gross, and nasty, but since the two of you were children at the time, you overlooked it, and continued fawning over his sweet, and simple letters.
However, as time stretched by, his letters browned in your memory box, and the two of you hardly spoke after the Fist Gang was disbanded, and Gapryong Kim died.
But before the two of you knew it, you both grew up.
And for some reason, like time brought you two together once again, you found yourself enjoying the scenic view of the ocean by a rusty, old street called “Big Deal Street”.
Jake was having a walk down the dock with a black trench coat thrown on his shoulders when all of a sudden he saw you.
You two had only seen each other a few times, then the rest went to the letters.
But seeing you up close for the first time in forever, Jake’s heart skipped a beat.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
He was so happy to see you again.
He didn’t remember you looking so gorgeous, he had to rub his eyes, and pinch himself if this was really real, and not a dream.
You were called the princess, so Jake treated you like a princess.
He stuck flowers in your hair, hugged you close, and made up jokes just to get a pretty laugh out of you.
He even painted your nails, and toe nails for you—living up to his alias “Jane Kim” the aspiring nail artist.
He actually enjoyed combing your tresses or painting your nails for you.
It was refreshing since dealing with affairs from his deceased father always took up his time.
Although Jake was number one of Big Deal, you were the number one of his heart.
The two of you hardly saw each other before, so nowadays Jake cleans up almost half of his schedule just to replace it with spending time with you.
He’d even let the boys third wheel (if you wanted to).
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
When the two of you finally got used to seeing each other’s faces, you also got used to seeing Jerry’s stoic face as well.
Jake made him watch over you whenever he was away.
Jake is often optimistic about most things, but the fear of having you potentially taken away like Sinu was, took a toll on him.
So you were frequently surrounded by men protecting you.
And when Jake would come back after taking care of something you shouldn’t worry about, he’d take you out to dinner, and maybe let you join his bed after.
He’ll set up a pillow barrier on the bed just in case, and tell you about the things you missed before he met you again.
It was fun, listening to his butchered storytelling while he held your warm hand under the covers.
His gentle voice lulled you to sleep, bringing you into the deep world of slumber.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
The rest of Big Deal often questioned your presence as you were the legitimate daughter of a gang that rivaled his dad’s, but Jake made sure their lips were sealed if they ever dared to spout nonsense about you.
You were a sweet, loving soul, and Jake made sure to shove that in people’s faces if they ever doubted.
He’ll pat your back if anyone tries telling you otherwise, and deal with the persecutor after.
But besides you being a sweet, loving soul to him, you were also like a light that eased his mind—momentarily forgetting about his worries, his past mistakes, and the wrath he harboured for certain people.
He’ll spoon you in his arms, drag your fingers against the scar smeared across his lips, and smile smugly at you.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Jake loves you.
You were a constant companion in his life, and he hoped the strong fragrance of his pomade wouldn’t drive you away from him.
He was often away for most things so his love language was giving you things through the mail box.
It reminded you of your early days of your puppy love with him.
Exchanging letters, and half licked, sticky lollipops tucked in damp envelopes.
Now, he sends you clothes you like, stuffed animals, and all sorts of things with the smell of his pomade rubbed on it.
And surprisingly, he’s a good kisser.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎟꣑୧𓎟𓎟𓎡
⠀ ⠀ ֹ ✿ ֹ ۪ ( fluff, puppy love, gentle giant ) ָ ֹ ⊹
ֺ ࣭ ℬig 𝒟eal ׅ ౿ jerry kwon ㅤ︵⠀🪽⠀ You were one of Jerry’s classmates in middle school.
The two of you never really talked or looked at each other even when you would sit in a classroom with him almost everyday.
That was until the performance test entered the school newsletter.
Jerry would practice his flute every chance he had during class.
The melodies he played, and the cracked rhythms coming from the other side of the classroom caught your attention.
You looked over, watching him play with curious eyes.
You always wondered why your peers were afraid of his opposing stature.
Besides that, you were interested in musical instruments like the flute, but nobody really knew that so when you suddenly approached him after class, if surprised him.
You had asked him to teach you that day.
Jerry hesitated.
He wouldn’t be lying if he said out of nowhere that you were the prettiest girl in the whole school—maybe the whole world too.
He almost coughed in his flute when you walked up to him while he was still packing up.
He couldn’t really teach you much since he had to teach himself as well to prepare for the performance test…
But you were able to come over to watch him practice the flute, and even try on your own.
So with that, the unlikely duo was paired up all because of the greatest match maker called the “flute”.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Your playdates with him soon progressed to hanging out in the park during recess.
Your friends questioned your choices in men, even teasing you about your budding relationship with Jerry, but you appreciated every time Jerry would come up to you during recess to give you a popsicle from the nearby convenience store.
Sometimes you two would even go on the swings.
Jerry would always make the swing creak, and make the experience a little bit risky however.
He bought you candy, sweets, and even shared his lunch with you.
Everyone had always labelled him as the macho, intimidating bald, old man masquerading as a middle schooler, but the moments you two shared with each other proved such thoughts wrong.
Jerry was actually sweet, and gentle.
He even bought you chocolates for Valentine’s day.
He liked to craft gifts for you, and pester Jake with questions like asking if they looked good enough to serve as a present for a girl.
Jake was surprised that Jerry actually had a girl (you) to give gifts to.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
You never would have expected Jerry to be the awkward, lovey-dovey type.
When he got your contacts for the first time, he was blowing up your phone with emoticons, and silly videos of cats.
Your late night conversations with him at night were the silliest, but the most memorable.
Jerry opened up to you about the wars he went through, and how almost everyday after school he would face notorious miscreants.
Not only was Jerry such a sweetie to you, it looked like he was also quite the storyteller.
You giggled at the other side of the screen, and sent him selfies of you smiling with filters on.
What made you laugh even harder to the point you started coughing in your fist that night was when he replied with his own selfie with the classic, dog Snapchat filter.
Of course, you saved it into your photo gallery.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Jerry liked to bike so he had Jerry fix up his old one, and make it into a two seated bike so that he could give you rides.
Riding in a tandem with wind blowing in your hair, and the sun shining down on you two was something you didn’t know you would be experiencing with your middle school friend(?).
With Jerry hunched over, he made sure not to go too fast as he gave you a ride along the fields.
He looked over his shoulder, occasionally glancing at you from behind as you giggled—watching the view.
The flap of your dress, and the way the wind ruffled through your hair, threading into your locks while your laughs played along with the breeze, and the singing birds.
Jerry tightened his hold onto the handle bars, his cheeks reddening at the thought of you sitting behind him on moving wheels.
Then when the two of you would stop by to smell the flowers on the fields, he caught himself leaning in to smell the aroma of your perfume clinging to your sleeve instead of the natural fragrant of the flora.
You were so pretty; he had to admire you as the sun caressed your face while you took the time to examine the daisy in your miniscule hands.
You looked like a daisy yourself.
That day was like a dream come true, and it had him squealing in his pillow like a girl.
He even slept like a baby that night.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Jerry has a crush on you.
He liked you a lot, and even now he was just realizing that he still does.
At the end of spring when high school was right around the corner, he was devastated at the fact you wouldn’t be attending the same academy as him now.
But even when high school separated the two of you, Jerry was also kind of glad because of that.
Watching Sinu finally come back to Big Deal Street that day after the affairs with Workers had finally come to an end, he couldn’t help, but let the tears pour down his eyes.
And although Jason, and Brad covered his eyes, it was clear he was crying tears of happiness, and relief at the fact Sinu was finally back.
Those moments played out sort of like a lesson to him.
He had a gut feeling that if you were around him for any longer, he could potentially lose you to some group of bad guys.
And he wasn’t even sure if you would be able to come back to him like Sinu did with Big Deal.
Jerry even hesitates replying to your messages.
His huge thumb would hover over his screen—contemplating whether to satisfy himself, and text you back or back down, and shy away from your calls.
As all of your texts flooded his phone, and were left on delivered, Jerry still couldn’t resist thinking about you even in the midst of the battlefield.
You were a memory—a dream he wished would last forever.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎟꣑୧𓎟𓎟𓎡
ֹ ✿ ֹ ۪ ( rivals, petty!reader, subtle dacryphilia) ָ ֹ ⊹
ֺ ࣭ 𝒲orkers ׅ ౿ eugene choi ㅤ︵⠀🪽⠀ You’re a student in the Elite Private 6-12 Academy.
Your grades were above average, and had a knack for shopping for all things cute, and girly.
You also enjoyed playing tennis with your gals, and your peers.
You even dolled up your tennis racket’s grip tape with a pattern you favoured spiralling on it.
And although you liked to play, and compete, you hated that Eugene would always end up as your opponent during games.
Your skills were on par with his, after all.
But for some reason, he always emerged victorious in every match.
He’d smile at you behind the net, adjusting his glasses.
He had good intentions—he was merely trying to communicate “Good game” across the grounds with a simple smile to you.
But you completely mistook that as a sign of rivalry.
It irked you to the core that a gangly boy with four eyes would even dare to skim through your nerves.
A week passed after that, and you were preparing for another match with Eugene.
You didn’t need to since you were already so good, but the “smug” look stretched across his lips made you want to smear it off his face.
What good was a fun game of tennis if you were the loser?
You practiced every 4:00 AM in the morning, and after school.
Your family was relatively wealthy so you could practice in your own personal tennis court.
You had even shamelessly taped a blurry picture of Eugene on your tennis balls so you could see it crumple against the green fuzz each time you sliced it with your racket.
Your feelings ran deep within your veins whenever his name ever popped up near you.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
While you busied yourself performing one sided beef against him, Eugene was peacefully watching you from afar with curious eyes.
He watched you practice vigorously in the tennis court from the school library.
A smile elicited from his lips as his glasses reflected your figure bouncing on the court with your tennis racket bobbing from your dominant hand.
He was actually oblivious of how you felt about him.
He had no idea you held such a grudge against him.
He just assumed you had a short temper, and often got offended or mad at the littlest things.
Eugene was getting amused by your neurotic behaviour against him.
And when the day finally came for your promised rematch with him, you were trying your hardest.
Determination was set in your eyes like a never ending flame.
You had to win.
Even though it was an unofficial match, winning meant a lot to you—it meant almost everything to you.
But your loathe against him was your greatest obstacle in winning your petty game.
It held you back a little, and when you lost almost immediately, your eyes began to prick with tears.
Eugene was having fun, he was actually toying with you a little.
Not when you suddenly started crying; your face was red from abashment, and frustration.
He blinked, and his smile slowly faded as the tears trickled down your delicate cheeks.
Comforting a crying brother was practically a cakewalk for Eugene.
But he wasn’t sure how to comfort a girl.
He just looked at you with an appalled look plastered on his face with his hand darted forward, not sure what to do with it.
Eventually, as you sobbed in your hands—your racket left discarded on the floor, Eugene had approached you to pat your back.
He didn’t know someone could cry over “simply” losing a game of tennis.
But he pushed it down when he realized he had sobbed over getting bullied many times before.
He figured you had some sort of inferiority complex.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
The day after that, Eugene could not stop replaying the moment when you cried all over your palms after you caught yourself making a mistake, and completely losing the rematch you promised yourself to win.
It was like a movie scene playing before him.
And he was enjoying it.
He knew he should’ve felt bad, and tried harder to stop the tears running down from your eyes.
But he couldn’t help, but feel satisfied.
The pained look on your face somehow eased him.
And it brought a smile to his own face.
It was just so reassuring—so good to know that there were people out there suffering just like he did.
But his selfish feelings for you soon changed when you suddenly stepped up to come rush, and help him after the failed mission of getting kidnapped, and taken captive by his own trusted “friend” Samuel.
Eugene was so shocked that he could turn his back on him right after they had gotten so close through the downfall of both the fourth, and third affiliates.
He had even bought him a car.
But he guessed even if he had bought him a bigger vehicle, Samuel would’ve chosen that same route.
But you…
If you had liked Eugene which you didn’t—you still chose to aid him when he was in critical conditions.
Many people would laugh, and mock at the face of their foes finally facing their long awaited consequence.
But you didn’t.
You were walking on the sidewalk by the road one day—taking a break from your nightly jog.
When suddenly you recognized Eugene, your “rival”, left lying on the road, bloodied, and the left lens of his glasses shattered.
His hair was disheveled, and he was just a mess.
But you came running up to him to check up if he was okay.
Holding out your hand, and pulling out your phone—getting ready to call the police, he unexpectedly told you not to.
With a confused look plastered on your face, you scoffed when he told you to just get lost.
But you insisted, and took him to health care anyway.
After that fateful day, something in Eugene shifted, and stirred about how he felt about you.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
You were just the girl who loved winning, tennis, and all things pretty.
But you were also the girl he kind of liked.
You were kind, sweet…
And most importantly caring.
You wouldn’t call it a date (but he absolutely would), however the two of you did go out together to study in the school library.
It just sort of happened.
And while you were scribbling in your notebook, you kept on feeling Eugene’s eyes on you.
He was admiring your face to be precise.
He had to back down the urge to tuck the stray strand of hair dangling in front of your face, and into your ear.
As he studied your face, he’d lean in, and ask you a bunch of questions like if you needed help on a problem in the worksheets you were working on, with a hushed tone.
He liked to tutor.
And he would love to teach you in the areas you mostly struggled in.
But unfortunately for him, you always refused.
You were already great in most things anyway.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Eugene has a crush on you.
He’d repeatedly tell himself over, and over again that you were just some flimsy spring fling.
Turns out you’re not just a spring fling because winter was soon arriving.
He didn’t have enough time for trivial manners like tending to a lover.
But he couldn’t deny the pull he had with you every time his eyes would instinctively drift to your figure—sitting down on your own desk, a few desks away from him every class you shared with him.
He wouldn’t dare to let anyone have a chance with you, but him.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎟꣑୧𓎟𓎟𓎡
ㅤㅤ ֹ ✿ ֹ ۪ ( drama, bodyguard!mandeok, tw: sa ) ָ ֹ ⊹
ֺ ࣭ 𝒲orkers ׅ ౿ mandeok bang ㅤ︵⠀🪽⠀ Your family was extremely well off.
You were born with a tiara on your head after all.
Designer bags, long lasting perfume, clothes from brands so expensive, it was only exclusive to the rich; it was everything you recognized, and knew.
You were living the lifestyle everyone would drop everything for.
And now you were just missing a bodyguard.
An extra piece of equipment that takes care of your every need, and protects you from any harm or danger.
Your parents had tried to hire many different chaperones for your safety, but you all turned them down.
That was until you found the perfect match for a bodyguard.
You wanted to try out public transportation with all your other wealthy friends one day, but unfortunately for your group, you unknowingly went during rush hour.
The whole experience was cataclysmic.
And you definitely wouldn’t hear the end from your mother.
You had begged your parents to let you go along with your friends, but look where it had left you.
The train was crammed with people to the point your body had almost slammed against the wall each time the train turned, and bodies swayed to the side.
You let out a frustrated murmur, promising yourself you’d never try public transportation to get around the city ever again..
When suddenly a hand jut out, caressing your rear—grasping your full attention.
Your heart dropped.
And your scatterbrain that spiralled with thoughts went eerily quiet.
For a moment, your inner voice had finally hushed.
The track of your racing heartbeat rang in your ears.
And people’s voices around you that murmured amongst themselves blurred between the buzzing lines of the train’s engine.
Your eyes darted to your friends who were just standing right next to you, but it seemed that they were also lost in the crowded sea of bodies of the sweaty civilians.
Everybody was coupled, and packed in the train like a cramped tin of sardines.
The stench of body odour swam in the air; such things like that could lead you to retching, but the hand that touched you was your breaking point.
You weren’t used to dirty, and defiled things.
And you certainly weren’t expecting to get defiled by a dirty hand that day.
Your eyes pricked with tears, and you couldn’t even stand up against your assailant.
Of course, you couldn’t.
You weren’t fit for such things.
Regret, and shame began to flood your racing thoughts.
You dipped your head down, covered your mouth, and sulked as the tears dared to trickle down your cheeks.
But with a smack that tore the uninvited hand that deliberately exploited your rump, you slowly turned your head around to see who it was that did that for you.
You had even heard a few bones cracking beneath mush skin from that very moment.
Everybody in the train was now staring—watching two men that caused the whole scene.
A plump, middle-aged man, and a tall, muscular boy you presumed was around your age.
The muscly boy’s huge hand had fisted around the man’s wrist.
And at that moment, you instantly knew who your bodyguard should be.
When someone thinks of a bodyguard, the image always fell into the usual standards: tall, bulked-up, strong, and mighty.
And your saviour was everything you wanted your personal bodyguard to be.
You had to strain your head up to face him.
His dark brown eyes held your own coloured orbs, and for a moment, it reminded you of one of those classic romance scenes in fairytale movies.
He was every bit of the character “knight in shining armour”.
And you were, of course, the princess in that picture-perfect moment.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
After that fateful day, Mandeok—who you later learned was his name, was hired instantly on the spot.
He was perfect.
And although bodyguards primarily offered protection service, you never really faced threats besides stepping into the public transportation.
Because essentially, you often stayed inside the safeguarding walls of your manor.
It had everything, and anything anyway.
So the things Mandeok usually did besides protecting you was learning how to curl your hair.
You usually had maids to do that sort of thing for you, but if it meant having a another chance to have a romantic moment with him, you wanted it to be him who curled your hair.
You showed him how to do it with your curling iron one day, twisting a piece of your hair around the hot wand, then handed it to him to try after you finished your demonstration.
You were sitting in front of your grand vanity, smiling at him through the mirror as he stood next to you.
He delicately took a small chunk of your hair, and curled it.
You let out a chuckle at how comically small the curling iron looked in his big hands.
He was holding your tresses very carefully as if he was handling smooth, fragile porcelain.
Mandeok was labelled as your bodyguard, but ultimately, he was your favoured, beloved hairdresser.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Mandeok is often nonchalant, calm, and collected.
But your cheery demeanour slowly coaxed him to smile with you.
Your smile was lovely.
And it makes him smile too.
But he quickly concealed it whenever your eyes would drift off to look at him.
He couldn’t let you see it—he couldn’t bear to show you he was starting to like you.
And most importantly, he couldn’t deny that he was starting to like your company, but he would never dare to admit that out loud.
You were like a breath of fresh air to him.
You brought something new to his life.
Something that differed from the negative emotions, lamentation, and anger he often went through.
Day after day, he faced prejudice, and persecution merely because of the colour of his skin.
It was even uncomfortable sitting in a bus, and having to endure the eyes that glared daggers on the tone of his skin—the cameras that flashed his way.
Even the words that spout from people’s mouths had started to get through him.
It seeped into his beliefs, but you miraculously took it away.
You liked him, he could tell.
But he didn’t know why or how.
You were like a princess, and he was just like a lowly servant—designed to be only an anusment, and a working dog for you.
But for some reason, you had him walk next to you, let him look at you eye to eye, and even wanted him to talk to you like a friend, and not as his master.
He was beginning to realize you didn’t want him as an accessory to pin on your shoulder proudly nor become a tool to brandish in the face of adversary…
No, you just wanted him as a constant companion by your side.
And that only made him truly want to adopt the label of being your bodyguard.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
When he finally recognized you as his friend—one of his close companions, you wanted to celebrate by taking him out to a luxurious (date) dinner.
He looked so lavish in a suit.
He didn’t have any cologne on, not like you wanted him to apply some anyway.
His natural aroma was already pleasing enough for you.
Mandeok smelt of musk, herbs, and peppermint.
And you liked that very much.
Seated in the VIP diners, he was hiding his face from you with the menu.
And for some reason that day, you looked even more extravagant, and gorgeous; he was a little intimidated by your beauty.
The way your hair fluttered behind your nape, and your skirt draped over the curve of your legs was beautiful.
You looked like an illustration.
It flustered him to even look at you.
After your meals have arrived, you wanted to tease him a little by offering to feed him with the chopsticks that had already entered your mouth.
Mandeok blinked when he noticed you had done that.
You were totally just stealing an indirect kiss from him.
Mandeok was awfully composed, but you could tell behind his shifting eyes that he was actually really nervous at the time.
He was so cute.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀・┈・♡・┈・
Mandeok was confused about his feelings.
He liked you, but at the same time he wasn’t sure.
Perhaps he only liked you because you were kind to him, but he also felt that unusual flutter in his heart every time you were near.
He wondered even more when he finally entered high school, and met a classmate that went by the name “Eugene”.
Mandeok was bullied heavily by his peers along with him.
Every day, he saw him get pushed into his locker, and his supposed twin crying at the persecution his brother had to face.
And eventually Mandeok had winded up in their mess as well, and became another victim of bullying.
He didn’t want to tell you, however.
He hated whenever your brows would droop in worry or fear.
He hated himself even more for even having an idea of ever telling you what was happening behind your back.
He wouldn’t dare to burden you with his own problems.
So a few years went by, and from the help of Eugene’s connections with certain men, he suddenly flew ten ladders higher than the barrel he was left discarded in way before.
He got involved in the Four Major Crews, and grew with authority over the same people in school who threatened, and bullied him because of how he looked.
He was becoming Eugene’s right hand man.
But when he was just about to become his personal bludgeon—his loyal friend to help him, and come to aid him whenever he needed it…
He realized that being Eugene’s right hand man meant completely tearing his eyes from you.
And he knew that one cannot simply have two masters.
For he will hate the other, and love the remainder.
You were his bodyguard, and Eugene just suddenly asked Mandeok to follow him—to pledge loyalty to him so that they could finally make their ideal lives a reality.
When you heard about this, you were infuriated.
You had been with Mandeok for years; you were his best friend.
And to think some puny four eyed boy could dare to make up an idea of leaving you out of the picture made you gnash your teeth in anger.
Eugene was competitive.
He had even offered Mandeok triple the payment your family paid him to tempt him into giving away.
Mandeok was stuck between two people.
And he wasn’t sure how to navigate that whole thing back then.
He would love to finally live with his ideals, but weren’t you already his ideal?
He didn’t know, but you did know that in the end he had chosen Eugene.
It was hard to accept.
But he did promise loyalty to his friend, Eugene.
He had seen his tears.
He had seen his fear.
He had everything to lose.
But you had everything you could win.
He thought you could just easily get another bodyguard, and he could easily have another person to love.
But to no surprise, it was difficult—it was no easy matter.
ㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎟꣑୧𓎟𓎟𓎡
ֹ ♡︎ thank you so much for reading !
𓂃 i was planning on including yuseong and olly, but i wasnt sure how their storyline should go … most of these were kinda bonka sorry guys i love you 🪽
I love the way you decorate your works it's so cute!! I wanted to ask if you allow inspo?
OH MY COOKIES thanks bae i love you and ofc, you can take inspo 🥹🥹🥹🥹 youre so sweet 🤍🪽
i loved your mornings with elliot fic.... so cute! pls do a night night routine one...... ty :3 💌 love your blog!
𓍼 . 🗓️ NIGHT ROUTINES W/ ELLIOTT ! ࡛ 𓏲
🪵 : tags : sdv fluff marriage ⠀―⠀
♡ a/n : thank youuu, glad you liked it ^ ^ .
Before the two of you sleep under the covers, Elliott would always convince you to bathe with him.
He’ll offer to scrub your back in the bath tub, and lather your hair with your sweet-smelling shampoo—blowing bubbles into your face.
Elliott would also apply your skincare/bodycare on for you if you were ever too tired from today’s farm work—which was your daily talking to the fertilized soil, and checking up on the farm animals.
◞ ◟ 𑁬 ﹒ ❛ Beauty and the Beast 𓂂
˖ ˚ ׄ kurapika x female!reader ᛝ. 𓈒ㅤׁㅤ hxh, fluff, angst ܃ ׄ 𓈒 𑂯 ᕬ ᕬ 𓈒ㅤల ۫. ׄ ִ ׄ 𓈒 𑂯 ㅤㅤㅤ. a/n writing collab with @crush-itis
⸝⸝ ⋅˚₊‧ — ˙ . ꒷ 🌹 ˙ . + ˙— 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ
𓊆ྀི mini playlist ﹕ strangers heaven knows owls eye when the sun hits lovesong use your heart you're mine, you! treehome95 𓊇ྀི
Chapter One
A thunder roared, growling in the abyss.
The tall, wet grass crunched against the boots of a lost man.
He walked through the wet woods, struggling against the hard rain as raindrops fell rivulets down his messy hair.
He inhaled the musky scent of rain, and his faint cologne.
He had taken a wrong turn on the way home; he consequently ended up getting lost and searching through a forest.
⑅ ౨౿ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐜 ⁺ 🪽
𓎟𓎟 feitan ୨ songstress ! reader ୧ .
@benadryl-lover255 I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL DRAFT AND I CANT FIND YOUR ASK ANYMORE IM SO SORRY
Feitan was a monster.
A killing machine with a mind of its own.
Bystanders deemed him addicted to killing.
The way blood trickled down his bare hands, and the way the smell of deceased, filthy corpses reached his nose added more fuel to his bloodlust—he never felt even more alive.
The more he hurts you—the more he shatters your fragile ego makes him tremble in excitement, and arousal.
That was, until your little whines, whimpers, and pouts got to him.
He had you pinned down on the ragged bed, snickering as he bruised the side of your waist with his merciless, steel grip.
You cried out, struggling to push him away.
You arched your back, whimpering as he continued his torture.
It was all so funny, and exciting to him.
Until you started mouthing his name, trying to speak.
He wasn’t an expert in reading lips, but he was sure you were trying to say his name.
He felt his resolve die down, and his eyes softened.
His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment the two of you locked eyes.
You were just staring at him, giving him the look that shook his heart.
His brows furrowed, knitting downward before he clicked his tongue, and shifted uncomfortably in between your legs.
He released his painful hold on your waist, and reached to hold you by the neck.
He flexed his fingers around your throat, glaring daggers at you.
You shivered in fear—quivering beneath him.
This unknown, strange, and unbearable feeling enveloped his whole being.
He didn’t even have the power, or strength to hurt you anymore.
His eyes widened, and he pulled away from you.
As he left, he slammed the door closed on his way out.
He needed some time to think about what just happened to him back there.
You blinked in confusion from the sudden tension between you two.
You weren’t certain why he decided to stop hurting you that day.
You were even more surprised when he didn’t give you any attention the day after.
He’d only given you a glance before rushing off to a place far from you.
He felt awkward around you.
Whenever his eyes dipped down to your battered, maimed body had him feeling chills rush down his throat.
Did he actually feel bad for once?
You were strapped to the bed as usual, sleeping as you had cried yourself to sleep from the pain last night.
You snoozed peacefully underneath the dark, not having an ounce of care for the world.
The door to your little “bedroom” creaked open, revealing a familiar, short silhouette.
It neared your sleeping, unconscious body.
Hours passed, the clock ticked, and you finally awoke from the sun’s ambience, and warmth pecking your face.
You noticed you were all patched up, and your broken limbs seemed to be stitched back together.
Your eyes widened, adjusting to the bright light when suddenly, Feitan’s face came into view.
He looked at you, and pulled down his scarf.
He leaned in, and began kissing you as usual.
He made sure to shush your pitiful whines up by forcing his tongue inside your mouth right away.
He rubbed himself against you as your mouths ate at each other.
Feitan went through all the trouble learning how to nurse you, and begging Machi to heal you.
After what felt like a good ten (or more) minutes of kissing, he pulled away, and spat into your mouth.
He couldn’t help himself when it came to your throat.
It was delicious.
Even when your tongue was too loose for you to speak, your saliva was good enough for him to arouse his mood.
You were so surprised.
He kissed your patched wounds, and gently caressed your hair.
He was so gentle, and soft with you.
You wondered what went through his head that day; the day that everything changed.
You were about to celebrate this newfound miracle when he unexpectedly blew a punch across your face.
You weren’t anticipating that move at all.
You gagged, and coughed up blood in the process.
He held so much power against you—you quiver at the mention of his name.
You wiped off the shared saliva smeared all over your lips, and whimpered.
You looked at him, and yelped in fear.
He was trembling, quivering in disgust.
He must be shocked by his own actions as well.
He looked down on you with frustrated, aggravated eyes.
Feitan spat on the floor, breathing heavily.
What an awful, excruciating feeling for a monster.
Perhaps guilt was the ultimate device to weaken Feitan’s resolve to kill.
It was so revolting for him—he had almost puked.
Your eyes widened at this sudden behaviour.
You reached to gently pat his back, but he only swatted your hand away.
He stood up, and left again.
Your heart raced, and you sat up, blinking in confusion to the sudden halt of his cruelty.
You were just beginning to develop an impervious body due to his harsh nature against you.
You also didn’t want to admit it, but you were kind of already missing his pinches paired with his rough kisses.
Time passed, and Feitan hardly visited you anymore.
Even the troupe members wondered why.
You staggered toward the biggest room of the hideout where everyone hung out.
You weren’t allowed to move around or go outside without Feitan’s assistance when he used to order you around, but you took advantage of his absence to see what the whole building looked like.
You limped toward the centre, blinking around.
You wondered if anyone was home today.
You were certain Feitan wasn’t.
You weren’t all that powerful—nen wise, and you also didn’t bother learning how to use the aspects, or how to utilize one of the four elements’ application “gyo”.
You only bothered to learn when you heard your nen type could bless you with the ability to speak, and break free from the clutches of a loose tongue, and a muted body.
Unfortunately, your ability was stripped away from a man Feitan called “Boss”.
Besides that, you weren’t aware of the “non-existent” presence lurking around you.
The too-big, white button down shirt loosely draped down your shoulders as your sloppy gait continued toward the left side of the dark, grand room.
“Who are you?” A woman’s voice echoed from behind you.
Before you could turn around, you felt teeth from what seems to be emerging from a vacuum cleaner gape around your already-battered neck.
You let out a tiny gasp when suddenly another face appeared from the darkness.
“Don’t worry, Shizuku, that’s just Feitan’s little girlfriend.” It was a man wearing a high ponytail, dressed in a haori.
You blushed at such a title, but thankfully the woman’s vacuum cleaner didn’t eat you.
The woman hummed, releasing you from her grasp.
“Sorry, I didn’t know Feitan had a lover.” Shizuku patted your shoulder.
You smiled sheepishly in abashment.
You wanted to protest, but of course, you couldn’t do that without a voice.
“Don’t you remember who she is, Shizuku?” Another voice showed up.
They had a deep voice, and a face of many stitches, and scars.
You awkwardly stood between the many members of the infamous troupe you hardly know about.
You assumed they were all Feitan’s little friends.
After a while of the legs conversing around you, the man with the high ponytail—that you soon learn his name, Nobunaga, asked you, “Were you wondering where Feitan is?” You shook your head as a response.
“Why, you guys broke up or something?” Shalnark giggled at his own joking remark.
You weren’t sure on how to respond to that.
“That’d be a shame. He was really obsessed with you.” Machi rested her chin on her palm.
You nodded in agreement.
“Yeah! I was surprised. He never showed any interest in dating.” Shalnark added on to it.
After that, the members began to open up on how they reacted to Feitan’s fondness for you, and how they thought about your relationship with him.
Most thought you guys were cute in a way, and some assumed that you two already had sex.
But what the members all had in common was that they all claimed that Feitan just shows his “love” in a different, and eccentric way.
That made you wonder how you really felt for Feitan.
You weren’t sure how to feel about your relationship with him anymore.
Night began to fall, and the waning moon began to make you sleepy.
A thunderstorm had even erupted alongside the heavy, merciless rain.
You went to your “bedroom”, and laid on the bed that Feitan used to strap you on.
You were just about to sleep when a roaring streak of thunder lit up a familiar face.
You blinked, and sat up.
Feitan had suddenly appeared.
He was sitting on the bed next to you.
He looked into your eyes, and you almost caught a glimpse of his reddening face.
He suddenly grabbed both your cheeks, making you pucker your lips.
You whimper, gingerly puckering your lips.
Your eyes widened when he suddenly whispered something into your ear before he made out with you.
“I’m sorry.” he growled in your ear—his voice full of guilt from his past actions towards you.
You blinked in confusion.
You would’ve never expected him to apologize, but your tension faltered, and you kissed him back.
When the two of your guys’ relationship progressed with every kiss he planted on your body, and every rude remark he spat, it all blossomed into an adolescent form of love.
An unknown love was born, and Feitan began to realize it when the feeling of guilt, and pity creeped into his heart.
He was scared of such a feeling.
He thought it’d ruin his life.
But it only just freed him from the shackles of evil, and unremorse he was feeling until now.
However, it was still hard for him to resist the want to kill.
You were only an exception.
As Feitan apologized that day, he nursed you, and tried to love you like a real man should.
He isn’t the most knowledgeable when it comes to pleasing women, sometimes he’d slip, and punch you without hesitation.
But, of course, he mutters a sloppy, awkward apology after.
The result of his newfound love for you even gave you the will, and encouragement to make you learn a new ability.
You learnt how to talk again through nen.
But your voice didn’t manipulate others to swoon for you, this time, your voice changed the bloodlust of others into peace, and made them want to do good—to choose to be virtuous.
However, Feitan still swooned over you, and your voice.
You still had your singing intact, and that made him all the more obsessed, and addicted to you.
Then one winter night, Feitan wanted to surprise you.
He took you out on a lavish date, and wore a formal suit that he definitely didn’t steal from someone.
However, he did put in the effort to pay for the restaurant bill (just for you).
He eventually felt the guilt after, but he brushed it off.
Then for the main event, he brought you into a dark, secluded place.
He closed your eyes, and smiled softly before he put his hands away from your eyes.
“Welcome home.” He gently nipped your ear.
Your eyes widened.
He really meant “welcome home” when he brought you back into your real bedroom.
His eye twitched as the many shades of pink in your bedroom assaulted his eyes—how girly.
“Wow!” You were so shocked.
You rushed to bounce on your bed, feeling the fluffy mattress blanket around your body.
Feitan smiled, and joined you in your bed.
The missing posters of you were finally called off when you came back home.
You had never seen your dad streaked with tears until that day.
Your dad brought you into a tight hug, blubbering with many questions, asking you how you got lost, and everything.
You chuckled, patting his back as you dried your dad’s tears.
A week passed after the father, and daughter reunion, and you were back on stage, singing away, and of course, Feitan was the first to get tickets.
He even brought (forced) the troupe to come along, and watch you sing.
Front seats, and all—watching you with eagerness.
Your groupie is a maniac (for you).
sorray if i rushed it 😓😓 im a sucker for happyendings so im sorry if it sounded like a cheap fairytale book you’d find in a cornerstore, love yew benadryl-lover255 🤍😂
૮꒰˶ - ࡇ •˶꒱ა ֵ ׁ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐜 ᰵ ˒
⠀ ֺ feitan ❤︎ songstress!reader ⠀౨౿ ⠀⠀˙⠀⠀˖⠀
part one
You sobbed so much you cried yourself to sleep.
It was unreal.
You couldn’t bear to believe this was all real.
You wanted to speak.
You wanted to sing.
It was all you had.
The next morning came, and you awoke from something roughly pulling your hair.
You winced, and gently opened your eyes to see Feitan’s face again.
He cornered you in this ragged twin bed, trapping you in his muscular, steel grip arms.
You sulked, squeezing your eyes closed—anticipating another blow on your cheek.
Your neck was so sore.
It was covered in bites; both fresh, and wet, noticeable hickeys.
Feitan wrapped a hand around your throat, and squeezed each time you winced.
“I want to hear you sing.” He growled into your ear before pulling away.
You blinked.
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.
Feitan was staring daggers at you, waiting.
You began to cry again.
Feitan rubbed a thumb on your bottom lip before turning around.
“Boss, give back her voice.” He pointed at your mouth.
You hear the familiar voice before responding, “Why?”.
“I like it.” Feitan reached to pinch your throat.
You squeaked, and wriggled underneath him.
“Just listen to a recording of it.” The voice replied back.
You figured the voice that replied was the one who stole your voice.
You were growing to despise whoever that was.
A nasty frown curled in your face, but it quickly disappeared when Feitan turned to face you again.
A sad frown tugged on your lips when both your eyes met.
He stared down your irises, and reached to brush a thumb on your lashes.
He blinked, and his eyes dipped down to your chest.
He then began to murmur something to you while feeling your lashes.
You blinked in confusion.
You’re not sure if he was speaking the same dialect from before, but you couldn’t really decipher what he was mumbling about.
You looked intently to his eyes before reaching for his hair.
In a swift motion, he had already caught your wrist before you could even touch him.
You held your breath, and you felt warmth rush to your cheeks.
“Feitan, you’ve been with her since yesterday.” A sinister chuckle came from the entrance.
Feitan scoffed, and ignored them.
He must really like you.
Feitan began to graze his teeth against your neck, groaning at the intimate contact between you two.
He was so desperate to hear your voice.
He reached to hold your waist, now nibbling on your throat.
A soft whine elicited from your mouth, and you slowly let your guard down.
You wondered how battered your neck looked.
Feitan usually pecked the spot before he assaulted it with punches.
He bruised your lips, and licked your wounds.
You were his new toy.
Feitan was obsessed.
He had even taken you out after the troupe separated on their own ways.
He never had a girlfriend so he wasn’t familiar with the ordinary romantic atmospheres like the usual café dates or the fancy restaurant dates.
You were stumped when he brought you on a killing spree “date”.
At first, you wanted him to compromise.
But of course, his threats were enough to stop your futile attempts.
Your sore legs affected your gait as you walked alongside him.
He held your hand, making sure you wouldn’t slip away.
He wanted to walk you to where your date would take place.
You wobbled next to him, reluctantly holding his hand.
“Look.” Feitan suddenly stopped, and pointed at a boutique’s window.
There was a black, shimmering gown being displayed on a mannequin.
It was one of those gowns you used to wear for your shows.
You blinked, wondering what’s the big deal with the dress he showed you.
“I want you to wear it.” He rubbed your thumb, and brought you inside.
Feitan flipped the “open” sign to “closed”, and killed the cashiers, and all the other customers present in the store.
All because he wanted you to wear the dress without having to pay.
You were beginning to realize how terrifying, and threatening your new “boyfriend” is.
He waited outside the changing room while he nudged a lying corpse’s head off the floor.
You tried zipping up the back of your new gown, panicked if he’d blow another punch on your face if you didn’t hurry.
You struggled with the zipper, making the strained little noises Feitan loved.
Feitan crossed his arms, and glanced at the clock.
How long should this take?
He opened the curtain, and blinked at you struggling.
You looked at him in the mirror, and blushed as the back of the gown began to peel off, almost exposing your lower back—your assets.
Feitan’s eyes softened.
“Let me help.” He walked inside, and zipped up the dress for you.
He rubbed the curve of your waist, and patted your hips.
It was very snug on you.
You caught a glimpse of him smirking underneath that scarf.
Your cheeks reddened at that.
You didn’t even expect him to kiss you too.
He went in for it, roughing up your lips as he squeezed your waist.
His hand dipped down to your rear, and forced his tongue down your throat.
You moaned, whimpered, and sighed.
The both of you were doing all of this right in front of a bunch of corpses.
Feitan was enamoured by you.
Your voice was especially his favourite feature.
Your tongue was splendid against his.
You were submissive, though a bit irritating at times.
You were his greatest treasure.
He had even stolen many beautiful things for you.
The things he’d usually want for himself.
He was smitten.
It was so unordinary, and perhaps a bit unsettling for the other legs to see.
They all thought they had been dreaming when they caught a glimpse of Feitan roughly smacking his lips against you while pulling your hair—torturing you whilst simultaneously making out with you.
It was one of the rare times they’ve seen Feitan give out affection like this.
headcanons
♰ : Not only does Feitan think your voice is so attractive, he’s also obsessed with your face. Your singing was one thing, and your beauty was another. He’d rub your cheeks before punching your face, and stripe a wet tongue against your black eye. The idea of wounds on your face serving as makeup delighted him.
♰ : Feitan often compares you to the Little Mermaid. It was another one of those childish, fairytales, but you really resemble the Mermaid Princess. The pararells between the fairytale princess, and you piqued Feitan’s interest. That brings him giving you the petname “Mermaid”, or “Princess”.
♰ : Feitan makes sure to always rub his scent on you as a form of ownership. You were his, and he made it clear to the other members. He always became paranoid whenever another spider would wrap an arm around your shoulder.
♰ : Makeout sessions were intense, and horrific. He always had a knife, or a sharp blade with him too whenever you two kissed. He loved the sounds of your squeals, and panicked screams whenever he pulled out a knife, drawing it down your chest or your thigh. Choking was also something you had to go through. The pained look in your face mixed with pleasure was something Feitan was very much into. He had the weirdest kinks.
♰ : Feitan listens to recordings of you singing on stage whenever he showers. Showering becomes masturbation. Feitan would even bring you into the bathroom with him if the recordings weren’t enough to pleasure him. He wanted the real thing. He’d pin you against the tiled wall, making you squeak or whimper in every way possible while he washed his parts. He’d even make you wash a few of his assets.
♰ : Feitan doesn’t care about fashion, but he admits that he prefers black dresses on you. Your usual pink, girly style is cute, but the dark, gothic look on you was hot. He’d fiddle with the loose strands of your hair whenever you had it done. He’ll inhale your chest when you’re wearing clothes that expose off your cleavage. Feitan also enjoys playing with your earrings. Hoops were his most favourite. It gave him many chances to yank your ear off painfully. But he aways made sure not to add too much damage.
sorry for the late post!! i just travelled back to the philippines, and ive been going on a lot of shopping sprees 😓😓 i hope you liked it tho!! 🤍🤍 @hearts4rinrin
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ♰ ⠀ ˙⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐜 ⠀ ⠀⠀˙⠀⠀˖⠀ ⁺
feitan portor ♥︎ songstress!reader
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ׅ⏝ׄ⏝࡛⏝ׄ⏝୨୧ׅ⏝ׄ⏝࡛⏝ׄ⏝ׅ
suggestive, violent, mentions of kidnapping
Your voice was everywhere.
It was mainstream—top listening voices ever in York New City.
You sang in stages with your figure fitted in satin dresses, pink frilly gowns, white veils, and anything gold or silver.
You were the face of songs, and anything feminine or pink.
You were also known for sitting on a rose laced swing on stage, singing with the organ or orchestra.
Your voice emitted melodies that differed from any normal singer.
Your voice soothed nerves, anxiety, and stiff shoulders.
After all, this was your special ability.
You had a cadence that left people turning heads towards you.
It wasn’t so interesting or important at first, but the thought of people who despise you could easily have their knees shaken with just a few words you say—your ability could actually be useful at times.
The stages that made you star were filled to the brim with all the seats occupied with souls eager to hear you sing at least one ballad.
Just anything that was relative to you talking or singing was enough to make someone swoon or sigh.
Not only were you popular for your enamouring, and enchanting voice, your family were even kin to the government officials.
Your name held status, and power.
Something the Phantom Troupe would want to deflower.
However it would be difficult for them to take your wealth away.
Your voice was one thing, and your name was another.
Bodyguard, after bodyguard from all around the world, protected every inch of you.
Especially your voice.
Your voice was a trophy.
A medal hanging on your parents’, and music hall industries’ necks.
Feitan was especially enamoured by you.
This is explained when one of the Phantom Troupe’s missions required slipping into one of your shows.
Their target was one of your loyal fans, and often watched you from the back seats.
He had a whole bag of valuables stored away in his residence.
What’s great about this mission was that it had a perfect setting, and atmosphere for an assassination.
That was truly something the troupe wanted.
They tiptoed into the operahouse, wearing their polished disguises when your voice reached their ears.
You were singing on an aerial hoop, and you were just dazzling all over on the stage.
Your hair was done beautifully.
Your dress was donned with pink flowers down to the train.
It draped along the slim column of your legs—pooling on the floor elegantly.
Your fingers gently clasped around your microphone, and you sang your most favoured andante.
You usually closed your eyes when you sang because it helped you focus on your inner core, but you wanted to peek at the audience a little.
You wondered what kind of people were your fans.
“What are the things they wear?” You often thought to yourself.
You blinked, noticing the variety of people on the balcony seats.
Your gaze traced towards the faces smeared with stoic looks.
You wondered if these were your fans.
You caught a glimpse of one of the gloomy, snarky looking boys’ shoulders slump in relief, and relaxation.
That particular group on the balcony seats all had a similar style to them.
Dark, and mute colours, gothic aesthetics.
It was all different to your appearance that assaulted everyone’s eyes with your pinks, light fabrics, and sparkling jewels.
You slipped, and you accidentally let out a giggle between the rhythms of your legato.
The audience hushed, and you heard a bunch from the back seats fainting.
It was an honour to hear you laugh.
Meanwhile, the Phantom Troupe had almost forgotten all about their original target.
Their eyes widened.
It was hard to resist this immaculate power that radiated from your throat.
They felt their butts practically glued on the stolen seats.
They wanted to watch, and listen more.
It’s not everyday a lady could soften the nerves in Feitan’s heart.
The warmth, fuzzy feeling was short lived however.
Chrollo turned to look at the other legs with a smug look plastered on his face.
It was clear what the Troupe was after now.
Your voice.
After your show, you curtsied, and smiled into the crowd.
It was another melodic night for your fans.
You slipped into the backrooms then left to go back home.
You sat on your carriage, patting a powder cushion on your nose as you looked into your reflection on the tiny makeup compartment.
The day had proceeded like any other day for you.
You were now dressed in your nightgown, and you combed your hair that was still a bit slick from your rose petal bath.
Then you applied your body lotions that left you smelling like paradise.
You hummed one of your tunes as the candles lit your room into a soft, peaceful atmosphere.
The flame feathered your face while the waning moon kissed your features.
Your damp tresses fell to your shoulders, and then you heard it.
Your parents were discussing your performance, and the deal with your sponsorships.
Your interest was sparked when they mentioned your patronages.
You flicked your gaze to the entrance of your bedroom.
The Phantom Troupe on the other hand was already planning a masterplan to steal your voice.
The music industry’s prized possession.
Feitan watched the other members discuss the plan.
His eyes dilated when your name was mentioned.
So that was your name?
Your name suits your face was what Feitan thought.
He pondered for a moment.
Something about you pulled him in a trance.
It was certainly your voice, and perhaps it was also something else too.
But he couldn’t put his finger to it.
Maybe it was your pretty face.
And that was something rare for Feitan to think about or even admit.
“Her voice could be put into better use than singing away on a stage.” Chrollo adjusted his collar in the dimly lit room.
“Right.” Another member replied.
Feitan blinked.
“When we see her again?”
“She has another show coming next week.” Machi clarified. “I saw on the posters hanging on the walls.”
Feitan hummed, and nodded.
He wondered if you sounded even more beautiful if you were at his mercy, screaming at the top of your lungs.
The adrenaline manifested in his veins, and he felt himself clenching his fists.
His fingernails poked, and probed his skin.
Blood pricked down his palms.
It’s about time he heard an attractive, hoarse screech mincing out of a mouth for once.
Well, it was settled then.
Everyone was looking forward to your next show.
And this time, it was going to be in the biggest music hall in the city.
Your patrons will be watching on the stand lines.
Your face will be on every article, and bulletin.
The whole city was buzzing about your next performance.
And so was the Phantom Troupe, anticipating your grand reveal before they steal your everything away from you.
On the day before your show, you were on your way to the library, alone.
You wanted some to go outside alone.
You felt isolated in that little room of yours while also having to worry about these pressuring voice lessons, and voice warmups.
You made sure you wore your disguise perfectly.
And you also made sure you didn’t talk at all.
Just a few simple nods, and shakes would do it.
Stepping into the library, your lips curled into a soft smile as the bookshelves, and stacks of books hanging around came into view.
You liked reading this particular genre, and you just so happened to see your favourite book’s sequel you haven’t finished reading yet on the top shelves—unfortunately.
You looked around the room for any stepping stool, but there weren’t anywhere.
You hummed, and looked away for a moment when you suddenly heard the sounds of small wheels rolling toward your way.
You turned around, and saw the missing stepping stool (with wheels) you were looking for.
You blinked.
Wow, it was just what you needed.
How surprising.
You wondered how it found you like this.
Feitan was stalking you from the dark corners.
He was quenched.
He was thirsting to hear at least one sigh come from your mouth.
He drastically changed that day when he heard your singing for the first time.
The cracks, and ripples in his heart were unravelling each time you sang a music note.
Gosh, his broken English could possibly even improve if everything sounded like you.
You sat down on a table with your book, and read silently.
The room was empty, but full of books.
Most of the readers preferred the other side of the room.
Feitan’s tongue dragged along the crease of his bottom lip.
He stared down at you before he walked away from the crests of the darkness.
His heart skipped a beat when he caught himself.
He’d get a whooping if he proceeded.
But he just couldn’t control himself whenever you’re near.
He liked your voice.
He was obsessed with it.
The stark contrast between his, and your’s was overwhelming.
He only wanted to hear you in his mind.
He cracked his knuckles.
But again, his thoughts stopped him from continuing.
A part of him confronted him.
He will be able to do everything he wants if he waits for tomorrow.
And so he did.
On the front seats.
Just like Feitan wanted.
He wanted to see you up close as much as he wanted to hear you sing.
Today, you were extravagant as always.
You were the epitome of beauty.
Your voice could say the same.
Feitan doesn’t know much about love, but he firmly believed this obsession for you stemmed from that.
He chuckled under his breath as he watched you sing.
You were singing this high note that scratched the right parts of his brain.
Your hums made him feel warm.
And his blood rushed toward his favourite vein.
One of the legs nudged his shoulder as if to grab his attention.
He was definitely going crazy over you.
It was the rarest sight for the Phantom Troupe.
You were singing a few pieces tonight.
You were still on your first one, wrapping it up with one last note.
You also noticed the same people from before now on the front seats.
You found that kind of funny.
You glanced at the orchestra below you before flicking your gaze back to your audience.
“This next piece is called ‘Romance’. Your guys’ favourite.” She smiled, and then her eyes dipped down to Feitan.
Feitan almost exploded.
His heart was screaming to take you.
He wanted to smear that smile off your face.
He was getting too eager to feel, and touch you now.
Just what was this?
Then he felt a harsh pinch on his thigh coming from Shalnark.
He shook his head, and felt the stars warping around his head vanish.
You were like a siren, and Feitan was about to fall for your tricks.
Machi handed Feitan a pair of earplugs, and subtly pointed at the backrooms to join the rest to start the mission.
Feitan was a bit hesitant at first.
He was tempted to listen to you again, but if he did, he would probably lose himself.
…
He reluctantly took the earplugs, and disappeared to the backrooms.
So this is what the backstage looked like.
The other members had already knocked out the recruiters too it seemed.
Feitan stared at your back from the side.
Your gown had a V cut on your back that revealed most of your nape, and down.
Feitan breathed in your lingering fragrance wafting throughout the whole room.
Your perfume was pleasurable.
You were too oblivious, and naïve to feel the weight of Feitan’s stare.
Then the lights suddenly went off.
You blinked at the sudden change of events.
The whole orchestra halted, and you looked behind toward the backstage, wondering what had happened.
The audience shifted, and murmured amongst themselves.
“Oh, I’m so sorry guys,” you called out, trying to calm the whole situation with just a few words.
But it seemed the screams that erupted from the balcony seats had torn the rest of the audience’s attention away from you.
You yelped, and you found yourself abducted, and taken away into the rough hands of Feitan.
He called dibs to take you away.
No matter how much you struggled, you only received a crackling slap as your punishment.
The consequences were severe.
You yelped, and you were now shoved into a tight space.
You caught a glimpse of your kidnapper’s appearance before he closed the trapdoor.
You took note that his face was mostly covered with a scarf.
He had felt your throat, and lips all over.
You shifted, and squirmed in this dark, tight place.
You couldn’t scream for help because of the gag inserted in your mouth, and your whole body was bound in those merciless ropes.
It felt like they were made out of steel.
You cried, sulking away in that box of isolation.
You soon woke up in another dark room.
A pair of lips were pecking your throat.
Hands painfully gripped your waist, it bruised.
“Goodness, when are you done? You can’t hog all of her.” A voice called out.
Your eyes were all blurry from your tears.
They were half opened, and you tried looking down to see who this was with their hands all over you.
You wanted to sob, but you couldn’t.
You were exhausted, and sore everywhere.
“She’s mine.” The man who peppered your throat with kisses growled back to the other voice.
This is what fame leads to, huh?
You began to break out into tears all over again.
The members were hushed, watching you.
But this only encouraged Feitan.
“You waked.” He whispered in his hoarse tone.
He pulled away to look at you.
And for a moment, both your eyes met.
You opened your mouth, but no words came out.
Your voice was gone.
This made the man before you smirk smugly.
It quickly turned into a grin, and it progressed to an evil laugh.
He cackled, and sent a fist flying to your cheek.
You squeaked, coughed, and cried.
You tried rubbing your cheek that was now red in pain, but again, you were bound.
You struggled, sulking away as the many pairs of eyes watched you intently.
How did this happen?
You couldn’t speak at all.
Your voice was gone—your nen was stolen.
You were born mute after all.
“She still makes noises though.”
Feitan hummed, now rubbing your nape.
He nipped your throat, and groaned at the taste of your skin.
It was as pleasurable as hearing you sing songs.
Your groupie is a maniac.
Sorry guys if this was like inaccurate i havent watched the anime in years or like read the manga 😓😓 part two is out!
🐚 ᵔ⠀⠀ THE GYEONGSEONG MERMAID ! !⠀⠀◞⠀⠀⠀ 𓈒
❛❛ 𝐘𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐧í𝐚 𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐚, 𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐚, 𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐮𝐧 𝐝í𝐚 𝐭𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬 𝐭ú 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐨. ❜❜
ㅤㅤ◟ spoilers… ; fluff, angst ノ ⠀ 𓈒۫⠀˖⠀⠀ꕀ haesu song ⠀x⠀ su-a heo⠀𓈒⠀ 🪷 ꒰𓏼´ `𓏼 ྀིᥩ . a/n i cant cope with the fact theres 0 fanfics 𓈒۫⠀˖⠀
. ⁺ ♡ . ⁺ . ♡ .
𓊆ྀི mini playlist ﹕ no queda más la mentira oyayi televangelism suite from the little mermaid: happy ending you say that i’m crazy the thrill of loneliness 𓊇ྀི
. ⁺ ♡ . ⁺ . ♡ .
i love your writing sm! makes me go warm and fuzzy, your blog is so cute as well... id cry tears of joy if you'd write something about sebek... perhaps something about him admiring and looking up to his beloved and ghem just completing each other... 💚
໒꒰ೆ ◞ ◟ ꒱১ FANTASY TURNED SHOUJO ! 𝜗𝜚
⊹ ✤ fluff, twst sebek x gn!reader ﹒
perhaps more... elliott? 👀💕 maybe mornings with elliott.... 🤍
🐛 ໒꒰ೆ ◞ ◟ ꒱১ 𓈒 ゛ MORNINGS WITH ELLIOTT ! ₊
. (> < 🍎 fluff, suggestive, elliott x gn!reader
your blog is super cute and aesthetically pleasing :3
THANK YOUUUU 🤍🤍🤍🤍 bless your heart i love you
hi an anon here! not a req or anything but i love your elliott works u might just be THE elliott writer 🤍
THANK YOUU I APPRECIATE THAT SO MUCH CUZ HES SUCH A HUNK HES MY FAV CHARACTER 😅😅😓😓🥰🥰🤍🤍🤍 i love you btw
hello! i love your blog's aesthetic sm its adorable 🥺🤍 i was wondering if could request smth with elliott from sdv! extremely heavy fluff on things he'd love to do with the farmer on diff seasons and little things he'd savor and appreciate during those seasons together with his beloved <3 tysm
⠀⠀✎⠀⠀⠀SOMETHING FOR EVERY SEASON !⠀(◡ ‿ ◡ 。)
∿ ⑅ ᭡ ୨ elliott x gn!farmer ୧ .
˚ 🥕 ⌣ sdv, elliott, heavy fluff, hcs 𑁍ࠬܓ ⠀ ⠀ ၄ ⠀ ͚⠀ ₊ ۫ ⠀ 🐄 ⠀ ܸ⠀ ˙ ۪۫ ◜ ﹒ ⏖ a/n: thank you !! youre so sweet 🤍
┈┈ ୨୧ ┈┈
𓊆ྀི mini playlist ﹕ pretty little baby mai roi misty amore mio aiutami glue song show me how for lovers summertime sadness every many gets his wish 𓊇ྀི
ㅤㅤ⊹ ִ ׄ ׄ 𓈒 ㅤspring 𓂃
ㅤ ✿ ܃ Elliott loves to spend spring with you the most. It was the month of having floral-themed gifts stacked in your doorway. He’ll prepare pressed letters, frangented bouquets, and write love ballads that praise your beauty, comparing both your dynamic to a florist, and a lovely garden.
𓎠𓎠 ૮ ꒰ིྀ ♡‸◟꒱ིྀ ა What Does it Mean to Wed Elliott ? 𝜗𝜚
﹕ ︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
𐔌 . sdv, elliott, short, fluff, suggestive, pregnancy !
𓏹ㅤ ⊹ ౨౿ Elliott x Farmer ﹒ ︵︵ 𓂋 ⠀ ⠀ ܸ⠀ ˙ ⠀🍎 ⤷ hop into the world of romanticizing ! ⠀ ܸ ⠀ ⑅ ⁺ a/n ﹕this is kinda poop, im sorry ⠀ ⏖
﹕ ︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
𓊆ྀི mini playlist ﹕ nobody new turning page its always sunny in phildadelphia theme voila (francoise hardy) pas de deux (tchaikovsky) mexicana hermosa 𓊇ྀི
The bed sheets wrinkled, and creased from the intimate, night activities you spent with your newly wedded lover, Elliott.
The bed had been creaking all night, and the sounds of both his, and your groans were present, possibly keeping the chirping birds outside up all night.
Your wedding veil now served as a flimsy, lace top, covering only a quarter of your chest, leaving the rest exposed for Elliott to continue feasting his eyes on.
You had also been nibbling on the white tie Elliott laced on his suit to accompany your striking white wedding gown.
Both your shared saliva trickled down your chin.
“You’re so beautiful” Elliott wiped a thumb on your lower lip.
What does it mean to wed Elliott?
Is it experiencing the warmth, and sultry voice that whispers into your ear every waking morning, night, and afternoon?
Maybe it’s reading the thousand paged love letter Elliott had written for you after all these passing years.
The old letters, and poems he wrote have browned, and aged, but not his undying love for you.
His love is pure, sweet, and everlasting.
It’s mellow, and just right.
What does it mean to wed Elliott?
You’re not sure what, but you figured it could be baking him hearty cookies, and feeding him under the sunlight at the sandy beach.
But it couldn’t be as simple as enjoying a plain but lovely picnic on the beach.
It was a wonderful idea, but now you were sure that it must be a more “complex answer”.
After a few days of being wife, and husband, you still had a bit of a crush on him.
It was hard to even glance at his face, but for some reason you had no problem with moaning under his sweating, big body.
Eillott still courts you even when you’re both married.
He romances you with a carefully composed song he played on his piano.
You were sure you started seeing hearts, and stars glisten around him. You felt so abashed, and flattered that he composed a piece for you.
Amidst the flying music notes running in your mind—Elliott tying the melody together into a hearty piece, you thought harder.
Really, what does it mean to wed Elliott?
Was it preparing yourself; applying makeup, trying a new hairstyle he’d like…
The blush on your cheeks spread, and a foolish, but pretty grin curled on your face.
Another day passed, and you’re both spending time together, washing dishes after having a big meal you two had as a date.
Bubbles floated from the dish soap you lathered, and he blew one at you.
The iridescent flying bubble popped onto your nose.
You both laughed, chuckling.
A few months went by, and a bump soon grew on your stomach.
Elliott would poke your baby bump, cooing at your unborn child, pecking your belly button lovingly.
While you cradled your unborn child, Elliott cradled his beloved, and that was you.
He spooned you, rubbing your back, and fed you things you craved.
Even at this moment, you’re still not sure what it means to wed Elliott.
After all, that day of marriage had passed… although, it does still feel like it was just yesterday you both exchanged vows.
When you finally gave birth to your baby… your eyes opened wide.
You gaped at this cute little thing you made.
It squirmed, cried, and wriggled in your weak arms.
Elliott’s heart melted, and kissed your cheek.
What does it mean to wed Elliott?
With your baby boy/girl now growing up, wearing overalls, and long-sleeved sweaters…
They shared the same dew dropped eyes Elliott has.
Not only that, but they inherited his creative mind.
You noticed they loved drawing, and doodling hearts.
Reading bedtime stories to your baby with Elliott coming along, you all laughed, giggled, and smiled.
The stars shimmered brighter outside, and the moon seemed to have smiled down on your family.
You felt the moon’s warmth blanketing, embracing your body.
You heart raced.
…To wed Elliott is to not only exchange meaningful vows, and say “I love you”’s, but it’s to present, and really show your love you claim to have.
To take action on your word… you suddenly create a human from your donning amity.
jk
bonkadoodles