âŚâŰ ŕŁ âšă ¤ ATTENTION, HUMANS ! A NEW SYNDROME HAS BEEN SPREADING !
EVER HEARD OF THE LOVE FLU, ALSO KNOW AS THE CUPID SYNDROME ?
common symptoms include : sweating, stuttering, increased heart rate, butterflies in your stomach.. find yourself relating to any of those ? seek your local cupid's help !
๨ৠcinna, twenty-two. she / her. entp. MASTERLIST. c.ai.
ABOUT.ă ¤âŚâŰ ŕŁ âšă ¤ i'll write pretty much about anything and anyone as long as the character seems interesting enough- bsd, jjk, tokrev, hq are a given.
RULES.ă ¤âŚâŰ ŕŁ âšă ¤ dni if you fit the basic criteria. dni if you're here to play internet police when people write about characters you deem 'problematic'. dni if you're under 16.
ASKBOX.ă ¤âŚâŰ ŕŁ âšă ¤ feel free to drop any suggestions. any small idea that you'd like to see come alive or any character that you wish to read about- i'll try my best to fulfill your wish. i'm also open for any kind of conversations, go crazy.
đšÂ MURDER, FALSE ROMANCE. 985 WORDS.
đ nothing worse than a wolf in disguise. careful not to be fooled.
đŠˇÂ cw. human!alastor. suggestive. straight up murder. alastor needs his own warning.
freshly moved from the countryside, itâs easy to feel oh-so out of place hereâ amidst the dimly lit speakeasy that your friend has been urging you to go to. you vaguely remember hearing the song itâs a sin to tell a lie some time ago over the radio: this time, itâs live. you can feel each chord reverberating in your very own body, heart playing along the beat. humming along to it as your eyes desperately search for your friend that seemed to have disappearedâ the smoke lingering in the air makes it hard to see, to even breathe.
a couple making their way out bump into you, sending you stumbling towards someone. to keep your balance, your hands instinctively find their way to the strangerâs chestâ itâs an awkward situation, to say the least, and the way his gaze drops to your hands with annoyance makes you want to bury yourself 6 feet under.Â
âmy apologies,â you try, stammering.
the stranger seemed more relaxed at that, eyeing you up and down without a care in the world.
âno need, sugar.â
you frown at thatâ something about his voice felt familiar, âi think i know you.â
his face falls at that. uncertainty tainting his face as one his eyes twitches. have you done something wrong ? the atmosphere feels suffocating as you struggle to find the words to explain yourselfâ he doesnât bother helping either, hard gaze stuck on you.
âi.. i must apologise again, sir. knowing wouldâve been the wrong word. iâm a listener of your shows.â
a scoff.
then, a full-on laugh.
as the sound of his laughter fills the air, mingling with the lingering notes of the jazz bandâ your stomach churns, something akin to feeling butterflies. it's a warm, rich sound that washes over you, momentarily easing the tension that hangs between the two of you. his laugh attracts the dirty looks of a few other customersâ he doesnât mind it.
âwell, darlinâ,â he muses, a playful twinkle in his eyes, âif youâre a fan, then i reckon weâre practically olâ pals !â
the night went on, with the strangerâ alastor, youâve learnedâ never leaving your side. the hours slipping away in a haze of laughter and shared drinks. the once-crowded room now dwindled as patrons found themselves wandering into the moonlit streets. with the fading strains of down hearted blues, an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. would you ever have the chance to meet him again after tonight ? would he even wish to ?Â
but alastor seems to be more understanding of your silent dilemma than what you wouldâve thought. he leans close, lips brushing against your cheekâ velvety voice making you an offer. and so, you push your doubts to the side, eagerly nodding to accept.Â
on the walk to your house, his hand finds your waist, keeping you close to him. itâs comforting, and you start to think that you could get used to this, someday.
[...]
you tell him to make himself home and he does, oh-so effortlessly. as his coat gets tossed somewhere on your couchâ he rolls off his sleeves, forearms adorned with lengthy scars that makes your face twist in worry for him.
âgoodness, alastor! those mustâve hurt.â
he offers you a smile, gloved hand twirling a strand of your hair.Â
âyou should be worryinâ for yourself, cher.â
the term catches you off guard, and a blush blooms across your cheeks, the warmth spreading like wildfire. it catches you so off guard that your mind wonât even try to comprehend his words. thereâs red signs flashing through your mind but you donât pay attention to any of them as you find yourself succumbing to the intoxicating allure of the man standing before you. heâs too charming for his own good, you thinkâ even worse so for yours.
âwhatâre you thinkinâ about ? focus on me.â
as your back hits the wall, you stumble over your words. heâs closeâ too close for this to be considered respectable between two strangers. his left hand is on the wall, a few inches from your head, as his right hand grabs the point of your chin: keeping you in place, right where he wants you to stay. you find it difficult to breatheâ imagination running wild, conjuring up scenarios that leave your mind dizzy with need.
his lips finds yours in a heated kiss, a collusion full of passion that threatens to consume you whole. each movement fuels a primal needâ and you canât help but moan at the feeling, the heat of his body radiating against yours in waves.
the hand that once grabbed your chin now tightens around your throat, cutting your airways in a grip that feels foreignâ yet pleasurable for the most part. still, it makes you uncomfortable and you whimper: wishing to let him know, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he doesnât know just how strong he was. alastor breaks off the kiss and relief floods through you for a moment.Â
your eyes flutter open.
the illusion breaks.
the man standing before you looks like alastor, but doesnât feel like the man youâve met earlier. his facade crumbles off in an instantâ a chilling bored gaze never leaving yours. the sudden panic filling up your eyes doesnât faze him, as he continues to strangle you with a vice-like grip.Â
lungs burning, you try to gasp for air as his left hand joins the deadly embrace. when you realise that the monster wouldnât take mercy on you, your fingers start tightening around his forearms the best you couldâ nails digging into the very same scars youâve pitied him for.
the realisation puts tears into your eyesâ what a fool youâve been.
and as the world begins to blur, mind falling in and out of consciousness, youâre met with the mocking smile of the very same stranger youâve brought home.
đšÂ FLUFF, COMEDY. 634 WORDS.
đ meeting hanma was one of the worst things that ever happened to you-- it also happens to be one of the best.
đŠˇÂ cw. suggestive. hanma needs his own warning.
shuji hanma is a piece of shit.Â
that much youâre sure ofâ the rest, not so much.
you meet him at eighteen, freshly graduated from high school. youâre on your way to gloryâ future written in gold ink, college was merely another stepping stone before falling into the comfort of adult life. the clichĂŠ of it all is laughable at best. to celebrate, someoneâ a friend of a friend, you thinkâ throws a party. it doesnât take much to convince you to go; to let all the stress for the exams out. the celebration isnât much, but itâs still enough for a kid like you.Â
laughter and chatter fill the space with rhythmic beats making your heart feel funny. an odd sound mixes into the musicâ you remember it all too well from the way it made you frown (âhey, thatâs not a part of the song.â, you had dumbly stated to someone).Â
then, he was there.
ominous harbinger of chaosâ his mere presence making the whole world stop. youâve heard about him in hushed tones, sacred whispers echoing in the locker room. while his lanky figure didnât strike you as particularly frightening, the insolent grin etched on his face told a different storyâ what the fuck ? was the first thought that came to mind. the crowd parted like the red sea, watching him with a mix of curiosity and discomfort as he navigated through his own self-made pathâ predatory gaze searching for a prey thatâll serve him as tonightâs feast.
someone steps on your foot and you gasp.
itâs a small gasp, reallyâ but in the deadly silence of the party, it makes you stand out like a sore thumb. everyone turns to the soundâ youâ and you seriously think about dropping dead on the spot. his eyes catch yours, sealing your fate. thatâs when you know youâre done for. he smiles. youâve had plenty of people smile at you beforeâ youâve seen it all, truly. the polite smiles, the awkward ones. all of it.Â
youâve never seen one like his.Â
carnivorous smile glinting in the light. just for you. itâs unsettlingâ you canât help but wonder if thatâs how those poor deers youâve seen on tv feel when going against the big olâ lion. it freaks you out and before you even think about getting awayâ a rough hand grabs you by the chin; mindlessly moving your head to the light, to see you better. everyone slowly but surely gets back to their own lives, now that his victim for the evening has been chosen.Â
âpretty,â he whistles, his breath uncomfortably close to your face. âgot a boyfriend ?â a wave of warmth washes over you. the idea of lying crosses your mind; about answering yes, but what good would it make ? youâre sure one of your classmates would shamelessly throw you under the bus if you do, anyway. you shake your head, lips tremblingâ from fear or anticipation, you donât know.
âgood.â
while he lets you have your space for the rest of the partyâ heâs always there, looming behind you; mouth hovering over your neck, as if ready to bite any moment. shots pile up as conversations unfold between the two of you. he does most of it, actuallyâ you end up finding him more interesting than what you thought.
(a moment or so later, youâre bending over for himâ hands desperately gripping onto the sink of a strangerâs bathroom.)
fast forward to now, youâre a few years older and unable to sleep, eyes twitching because of the very same man. itâs almost four in the morning, youâve got work in about three hoursâ and as your boyfriend continues to snore without a care in the world, youâve realized youâve got fucked in more ways than ever anticipated.
đšÂ HURT / FALSE COMFORT, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP. 675 WORDS.
đ it's easy to forget the ring on his finger whenever the two of you are together.
đŠˇÂ cw. suggestive. mentions of cheating. ran being manipulative, reader being delusional.
ran haitani has a wife.
youâve known it since the beginningâ he told you all about her. marital struggles laid bare before youâ heated arguments, desire for divorce, youâve heard it all. ten months have passed since the day youâve started fooling around with himâ ten long months where youâve continuously believed in his words. you know itâs a bad thing to do, a bad thing to wish upon another woman; you canât help it. not when heâs always so gentle, so nice with you.Â
youâve met his friends. youâve even met his brother. youâve seen how their gazes shifted from ran to youâ full of confusion, perhaps even a little bit of judgement. but as he makes you sit on his lap, looking all proud of his possessionâ you find it hard to care. ran haitani is nothing if not an enigmatic man. itâs easy to get lost in himâ trying to solve the puzzle of his words, searching for hidden meanings behind each promise. clandestine meetings and poisonous gifts become a routine youâve grown accustomed to.
heâs always there. when you leave work, ready to pick you up. when youâre on your day off, ready to whisk you away on yet another one of his rendezvous.Â
the lines between an affair and a relationship got blurry some time ago, when he introduced you as his girlfriend (you were always his âfriendâ, before that day)-- your heart had skipped a beat that night. itâs a foolish thing, falling in love. delusions eat your mind away, offering your heart on a platter for a man you could never truly have.Â
the nights shared with him are the worst. the divine ecstasy shatters when your eyes open, and the ring dangling around his neck taunts you. jealousy tugs at you, begging you to do somethingâ and you succumb to its order. your teeth sinking into his neck, imprinting a scarlet mark of your own. it doesnât faze himâ nothing ever does. does he know the meaning of it all ? youâre unsureâ itâs hard to tell with him.Â
i love you.
everything comes crashing down on a random friday. youâre getting home from workâ sitting next to him while he silently drives. the confession spills from your mouth before you can even stop yourself. youâve thrown up the words, your body purging itself of that sinful secret.Â
ran doesnât answerâ doesnât acknowledge you.Â
itâs hard not to notice the way his body had stiffen, hands flexing as his jaw hardened. you want to take it all back, you want to beg him to forget about what youâve said. youâre just as frozen as he is. vision blurring, hands tightly gripping onto the seatbelt. the air is thick with tension and youâre dreading the moment youâll have to get out of the car.
the engine stops.
youâre home.
âwhat do you know about love ?â the bite in his voice makes you jump. it makes you feel like an idiotâ like a child, and maybe thatâs what you are. youâve never seen him like thatâ fox eyes that youâve grown so used to feeling suddenly oh-so foreign. itâs humiliating. âdonât ever say that shit again.â your throat tightens and tears start streaming down your cheeksâ itâs only when you hiccup that you realise just how miserable you are. you hear him sigh, and youâre preparing yourself for whatever he has to say.
his hand reaches out for your face, slender fingers gently wiping your tears away. âdonât cry, baby,â there it is againâ that softness reserved for you. âthat was mean of me, uh ?,â he asks and you shake your head. itâs an automatismâ no, youâre not mean, youâre right. as you uncontrollably sob, you find yourself wishing to comfort him. âitâs justâ donât make this weird, okay ? weâre good, letâs keep it that way.âÂ
you agree.Â
ran haitani has a wife and your heart aches for the day heâll finally keep his promise. until then, being the other woman isnât as agonising as not having him at all.
đšÂ FLUFF , COMEDY. 728 WORDS.
đ in this game of cat and mouse, it feels like you're always losing. enough is enough. today, you'll win !
đŠˇÂ cw. none.
getting involved with dazai wasnât ever in your plans. if you knew that getting a coffee on that fateful day would turn your life upside downâ maybe you wouldâve converted to being a tea person. youâve heard once or twice the waiters complaining about a freak that kept creeping around, flirting endlessly with each and every person that had the misfortune of setting foot in the coffee shop. you remember how their words made you weary of coming back.
but the coffeeâs just too good for you to pass on, and the exact same day you chose to come backâ you found him, sitting on one of the barstools; mindlessly chatting away with anyone that would lend him an ear. if it wasnât for the bandages that decorated both of his wristsâ you wouldnât know that this man was the supposed freak.
you didnât have time to reactâ his head turned straight at you; brown eyes full of curiosity staring back at you, a mischievous glint in them. something in you went on alert, legs ready to run away.Â
you ignored it.
instead, you sat next to him. that was your first mistake.
your second mistake was coming back the next days while expecting to see him. he was always thereâ always dropping whatever he seemed to be doing to talk to you. you tried to reprimand him about it once, which he had laughed about (âbelladonna, iâd rather talk with youâ, had he say). belladonna. not letting the word get to your head seemed to be more difficult than anticipatedâ while the fact that he pretty much threw that word at every woman he had encountered remained like an on-going reminder. it didnât stop you from blushing, the same night after you went home. that was your second mistake.
your third and final mistake came in the form of an endless dance of uncertainty that dawned upon you each time you talked with him. subtle glances and unspoken words slowly became a normality between the two of youâ something you cursed yourself over for. his demeanour hasn't changed at all, which, possibly, made things worse for you. Â
youâve thought about asking himâ taking the lead and, in the worst possible outcome, having him laugh at you. putting your pride aside had never been a problem before, but in this game of cat and mouse; youâve had enough of doing so. red cheeks, stammering whenever he looked too long at you with those damned eyes of hisâ all losses on your side.Â
a little bit over a month has passed ever since you first set your attention on him.Â
tonight, heâs walking you home. the sight of your apartment keeps getting closer and closer, as your deception can only grow. was he truly to blame ? youâre the one who got the wrong impressionâ youâre the one who keeps setting yourself up for disappointment. he chuckles at something youâve missed and you canât help but stare at him, momentarily stopping the both of you. the city lights look good on him, you think. his lips stretch into a smile.Â
âyou gonna kiss me or something ?,â he asks. you know itâs meant to rile you upâ you shouldnât take it to heart. something within you snaps as bravery becomes your very own entity. itâs now or never.Â
now or never.
your hands push his cheeks together in a not-so attractive manner, his lips puckering from it. It all takes him by surpriseâ his eyes growing almost comically. youâre almost there. you can feel your breaths getting tangled and a mere gust of wind would result in your lips touching. as he stands there, letting himself get handled like a doll..Â
a burst of laughter overtakes you.Â
itâs so bad that you physically have to hold onto him. it takes about five minutes or so for it to die down and as you look up to him to apologise, the sight makes you fumble over your words. heâs blushing. God, heâs fucking blushing. your words get stuck in your throat as his gaze avoids yours like the plague.
âdonât play with my heart like that, belladonna,â he mumbles, his voice not as confident as it usually isâ arms digging into his pockets, desperately trying to make himself smaller.
đš ANGST , HURT / NO COMFORT. 639 WORDS.
đ in which after days of searching for him-- he's finally there. now what ?
𩷠cw. none (except for the usual mentions of murder that go hand-in-hand with geto).
youâve lost countless hours of sleep trying to get there. now, youâre unsure of what to do. youâve thought about it again and again; unable to find answers to your own torment. you can feel himâ well, not exactly him but his energy, overflowing through every nook and crack of the old house. you notice it doesnât have the same warmth it used to have; it all feels too cold to even be his.
a shadow catches your attention in the corner of your eye. you freeze, your heart almost jumping out of your chest.
itâs him.
he looks better than the last time youâve seen him; hell, he somehow looks healthier. your appearance seems to take him just as much by surpriseâ cat-like eyes widening just enough for you to notice it. the both of you spend a long time analyzing the otherâ still never commenting on it. it almost brings a sense of comfort. the higher-ups told you that he was a lost cause: nothing more than another curse user to get rid of.Â
youâve heard of the atrocities he had committed. youâve seen the atrocities he had committed. why is it still so hard to believe any of it was ever real ? looking into his eyesâ youâre only seeing the boy you love. the same one you grew up with, the same one youâve shared your first kiss with. while his body had grown distant, the familiar tenderness held in his gaze remained there; unaffected, never-changing.
the sight brings tears to your own orbs.
his arm reaches out on instinct.Â
âdonât,â it comes out as a plea. donât make this harder than it needs to be, is what you actually mean. he gets itâ like he always used to, when it comes to you. he gets it. it doesnât stop him from taking a step closer, thatâs when you notice he still wears the fragrance youâve been desperately trying to remember for the past few weeks. âdonâtâ donât come any closer, i will..â youâll what ? the words die off your tongue, unable to find the strength to fool him (nor yourself).Â
heâs close, so close.Â
if you decide to meet him halfway youâll be done for. you know it just as much as he does. the consequences, the warningsâ it all falls on deaf ears as you take the final leap of faith. whether youâre falling into your own salvation or damnation doesnât matter. all that matters is the way his calloused hands cradle your face oh-so gentlyâ affection running so deep that your soul feels the soothing of his touch. his tongue darts out to wet his lips; and the fleeting thought that he might kiss you makes you blush. if it wasnât for the underlying atmosphere, it would have been devastatingly romantic. a part of you thinks it isâ no matter what.Â
you can tell heâs hesitant.
his lips press into a thin line as he lets his thoughts wander. his thumb grazes your bottom lipâ itâs a habit of his (âit helps me think,â he once said). you have to remind yourself youâre not seventeen anymore and this house isnât your dorm. his mouth opensâ as if he was about to say something, and only now you realize how eager you are to hear anything he has to say. how eager you are to hear his voice. he chuckles at your expression, adoration adorning his features. you smile at himâ and then, there it comes.
âiâm sorry,â he doesnât dare say the words, only mouthing them. you get it.
âi love you,â you mouth back.Â
he lets go of your face after that, turning around and leaving like nothing happenedâ like he's so used to do. you can only stare at his back as you accept your faith.
freedom isnât always a giftâ sometimes it comes with a curse.
