odette

🍎

[odette-s-journal]

⊹ ᮫࣭﹆ֹ 🕯️odette 𓂃 ✿

21

13.03

🍎🧜‍♂️’s girl (but I like the others too.)

in college

intj

my Pinterest https://pin.it/2eRRWUALY

This is my blog for writing, I am not that well versed into writing, especially with fanfiction, so please feel free to share constructive feedback. I don’t visit this page often, so I may not always see your responses (please forgive me). I am not taking any requests right now. The content that I mostly write about is mainly “love and deepspace” related, I’ll see if I can branch out my writing to other pieces, maybe even share my own personal work(?), but for now I’m mostly focused on LnDs. Please don’t interact if you’re here to spread negativity, we’re just here to have fun. Also quick clarification, I do not support the use of ai in creative spaces (or any spaces really) so please don’t send my stuff to a bot.

[kikkorii]

萌え萌えキュン ~ ! ♡

lads x sanrio maids

[orphicmeliora]

For his birthday, you write Sylus a letter in your mother tongue, the one language he has yet to learn. You do not fully know what compels you toward it, only that the decision settles into you with quiet certainty, as though your heart had chosen long before your mind could catch up.

Perhaps it begins with something trivial. An idle moment. Luke and Kieran, sprawled across a room, arguing with the kind of conviction only the untested can afford—debating which language in the world carries the greatest capacity for love. French, Luke insists, with all the confidence of someone who has never truly been in love. Italian, Kieran counters, louder, as though volume alone could make it true.

Well, you disagree with them both.

And maybe it is bias. Maybe it is the way your childhood was steeped in it, the way songs and poetry and quiet confessions have always existed for you in the same breath. But you know—know in the way one knows the shape of their own heartbeat—that your mother tongue, in its purest form, does not merely speak love. It aches with it. It lingers. It holds longing the way cupped hands hold water, careful and reverent and trembling.

So you decide, with a kind of quiet resolve that feels soft yet stubborn blooming in your chest, that you will prove it.

You sit down to write, and the words do not come easily at first. Not because you lack them, but because there are too many. The language does not offer you simple things; it offers you depth, offers you softness layered over sharp edges, offers you metaphors that feel too intimate to survive being written down. And yet, you try. You gather every fragile, fleeting feeling you have ever tucked away for him and thread them into sentences that feel almost too beautiful to bear.

You do not translate it.

You do not soften it.

You leave it exactly as it is; raw, intricate, and entirely yours.

And then, you give it to him.

What follows is not immediate understanding. There is no easy unraveling, no neat conclusion. Instead, Sylus spends the entirety of his birthday week with your letter in his hands, chasing meaning through unfamiliar script, tracing each word as though it might reveal itself if he is patient enough. He asks questions, of course—subtle ones, careful ones—but you never give him everything. You let him work for it. You let him feel the weight of not knowing, the ache of reaching for something just out of grasp.

And somewhere along the way, it changes him.

And you realize, watching him, that you may have proven your point after all.

Because this language has not just become something he wants to understand.

It has become something he refuses to let go of.

Something he is beginning to love.

notes: the inspo for this (found it in the deep depths of pinterest doomscrolling)

حينما أغرق في عينيك عيني When I sink my eye into your eyes ألمح الفجر العميقا I catch a glimpse of a deep dawn وأرى الأمس العتيقا And I see ancient yesterday وأرى ما لست أدري And I see what I do not know وأحس الكون يجري And I feel the universe flowing بين عينيك وعيني Between my eye and yours

[scurviesdisneyblog]

Concept art for Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by Gustaf Tenngren

[odette-s-journal]

Fragrance of a Ghost

(situationship) rafayel x reader

slight angst

The gallery that rafayel works at did a collaboration with a fragrance company at his exhibition. There were pedestals placed in almost every corner of the gallery, each displaying a variety of perfumes and colognes that come in different bottle shapes, sizes, and colors, each one emanating a different yet somehow nostalgic scent.

The theme for this collection is “Wistful Wondering” an archive for old scents that give you a blast to the past.

Rafayel invited you to the event since he enjoyed your company and having you on his arm. Unfortunately for him, he had to get pulled away by a group of meddling journalists, which led him to leave you to your own devices.

“Just wait for me, cutie.” He whispered against your cheek softly before planting a parting kiss.

You wandered through the room, not too far so Rafayel can keep his eye on you as you looked around at the displays of perfume for the guests to try out. Your gaze traveled through the various looking bottles of perfume until your eyes landed on one particular bottle.

As Rafayel was busy chatting up the guests, he’d give quick glances to check on you so that he won’t lose sight of you, he noticed you were checking out the testers display.

His watchful gaze was pinned on you, how you were smiling at the sight of one bottle as you picked it up from the display.

He noticed it was a more “masculine” looking product as the bottle had more heavy angular shapes, with dark and metallic colors.

You leaned the atomizer to your nose as you took in its strong scent with a misty-eyed expression and a dreamlike smile. It was such an unusual look to rafayel. To see you so delighted and charmed.

He had to buy that cologne.

If that’s what it’ll take for him to get you to look at him like that.

Weeks pass by, Rafayel has invited you over to help him with rearranging some stuff he had in his studio.

Before you both begin, you lean closer to catch a whiff of Rafayel and the vastly different scent he has. You were hit with notes of cider, cognac, citrus and juniper. It smelled nice.

But it wasn’t Rafayel.

“Is that a new cologne you’re wearing?” You ask, your expression frozen and stoic.

Rafayel being completely clueless smiled in that boyish grin, “uh-huh, do you like it?” He asked like a little puppy waiting to be praised for completing a trick.

“No.”

Rafayel felt his confidence shatter. You didn’t like it? Then why were you so starry-eyed over the perfume that night. Did he miscalculate or something..?

“Wha-why not?”

“It doesn’t suit you.” You responded indifferently as you began to put away some of his old things in the storage room.

Rafayel stood there. Feeling humiliated in his rejection, he just wanted to impress you.

But as you were placing the items in the storage room, you felt your heart ache at the familiar scent. It reminded you so much of him. And you missed him beyond your heart’s limit. It didn’t matter how many guys you kissed or dated after him. None of them could replace him. None of them could be him. Rafayel could never be him.

..

Sorry if this is too short, let me know if you have any ideas or what me to expand on this dynamic.

[humanjarvis]

lads LIs when you're hesitant to initiate kisses

sylus understands your hesitancy to make yourself vulnerable, but he also can't stand to see you unfulfilled. the first couple times he catches you staring at his lips, he offers nothing but lazy blinks and slow smirks, challenging you to come to him first. but when you look away in uncertainty one too many times, seemingly content to watch your own desires slip away as long as it saves you from embarrassment, he saunters toward you, maintaining eye contact all the way. placing one hand on your hip and the other on your chin, he bends to capture your lips with his, making you stumble with his intensity. his grip on you only tightens when he breaks the kiss, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he tugs you toward his lips. when you lose your balance and fall into his embrace, you realize his game: he’s making you kiss him first 

zayne empathizes with your shyness and hesitancy, afraid to so much as look at you the wrong way in case he offends you. since you’re both too frozen in overthought to make the first move, you don’t become intimate as quickly as most couples, trading physical closeness for emotional understanding. when he walks you to your door after a visit to the bakery, he leaves you with a warm goodnight hug, and you both assume the other is satisfied. only when you think he’s asleep on the sofa one evening and press a fond kiss to his cheek does he realize you share his private desires. the next day, after stoically psyching himself up for 20 minutes, he finds you in the kitchen and kisses you deeply, a pink tinge on his cheeks when he pulls away

caleb wants you to kiss him first—or at least ask him to kiss you—but what if you won’t? he needs to know that you want him—that you’ll willingly give him the privilege of kissing you—so he gives you a few pushes in the right direction. he teases you with heated glances and not-so-accidental touches until you walk up to him, dumb with desire. when you stare up at him helplessly, he settles a large hand on your waist and hovers over your mouth, giving you the chance to push him away. when you don’t, he leans in slowly, tantalizingly, as if wanting to drive home the fact that you’re letting this happen to you—letting him claim your mouth in a slow, consuming kiss. this way, maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the courage to take what you want from him next time—if you let him taste you, there’s no need to be shy anymore, right?

you know rafayel, so you know he would be upset if you expected him to initiate everything—would it kill you to show a little interest in him? that said, you also know that initiating things isn’t really your thing. so, you find a trick that works like a charm: you goad him into kissing you. you’re comfortable enough with kisses to other places—anywhere but the lips—so you adorn his cheeks and neck with soft, chaste kisses until he’s riled up and flushed, his breath coming out in soft pants from the pleasure of feeling wanted. when you pull away, he chases your touch, and all it takes is an innocent giggle from you before he’s pinning you down and stealing your breath away, his tongue tangling with yours in passion and power.

xavier is confused and a bit discouraged when he realizes you never initiate—he thinks you just don’t want to kiss him. one afternoon, you find him sulking in bed, huddled under his comforter with the lights off. worried he’s sick or hurt, you ask what’s wrong, and he gives you 4 pouty non-answers before finally giving in. you can feel your face heat and gut tangle in guilt when he questions if you ever want to kiss him, and with one hand stroking his hair, you confess that you’re simply too shy to kiss him first. he responds with a blink and a whispered “so you do like me, then?”, and when you nod, he tackles you at the speed of light, pressing kisses all over your face before finally claiming your lips

a/n: anon who asked me if i’d ever write for zayne and i hinted at later this week this is not what i was talking about don’t worry, just an impromptu writing exercise to convince myself i’m not washed. also while this technically counts for xavier and raf i’m the least familiar with their cards so idk if/when i can write anything much longer than this for them (love them tho)

[livanavier]

more of daddy!rafayel

"baby, why do you look so much like daddy?"

two huh's and two lavender heads turn at you. the grin you try so hard to conceal spreads wide anyway. those same sunset eyes and same confused expressions. the smaller guy rests in your lap while the other guy is sitting beside you on the comfort of your couch.

"what that mean, mummy?" kashiel blinks. rafayel nods along too.

"i mean, why your face," you cup kashiel's face, "your eyes, your hair, and oh! your nose too," you gently pinch his little nose, "all the same as daddy?"

"'course i look like daddy! i daddy baby." it's the obvious, sure. bless your baby for his mummy about to bully him.

"and you're not mummy's baby?" you ask, putting a very hurt, sad face. your son's proud face washes away as he panics seeing you pout.

"wha–!! i mummy baby too." determined little thing as he kneels in your lap, facing you with hands on your shoulders to prevent himself from unstable footing. "why you say i no mummy baby?"

"you tell me, kashiel." it's fun to tease kashiel. he's so smart and mischievous. always have something to come up with in any situation. you wonder how this one will turn out.

your husband at the same time has snuggled up at your side. head tilted back on the couch as he watches his wife and son having a conversation. his most favorite thing in the world.

"uh.." kashiel turns to look at daddy for help. rafayel stuck his tongue out instead. never mind!

"uhm.. mummy.. i.." the gears in his brain are working overtime to prove he's just as much as mummy's like he is daddy's. "i kind! mummy kind! that why i mummy baby too."

kashiel carefully observes your face. please mummy smile, please mummy smile and say he's mummy's baby chanting internally.

"oh so daddy's not kind, kashiel?" a voice that's not mummy chirps and intervenes.

kashiel huffs and loops his little arms around mummy's neck, seeking your hug and attention. melting like a puddle when you laugh and kiss his hairline.

"daddy no kind! you eat my donuts."

"excuse you, you already had so many donuts that day and they were going to spoil, mister. someone had to finish it, we don't waste food." rafayel eyes the way kashiel's clinging to you like a damn barnacle. your husband has yet to have his own fill of cuddles today!

"i no care. i mummy baby."

"you are mummy's baby indeed. tomorrow we buy some donuts, okay?" you agree easily, revelling at how your husband turns sulky now. another big baby to deal with here.

[endiness]

SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS (1937)

[odette-s-journal]

rafayel x reader that smokes cigarettes!

(mention of caleb and the big brother trope. I couldn’t help myself. also for the people that are trying to quit, you’ve got this, and I 100% support your journey to sobriety. this is just an amusing imaginative story I like to think of from time to time.)

Word count: 2.5k

Your smoking habit had started somewhere in your late teens. University was awfully tough, and making it out into the adult world felt like walking on a tightrope, trying to balance your social life and your academics, not to mention trying to network yourself out there to have connections for your career of choice. Whenever Caleb visited you for the summertime, he'd advise you to quit and share some horror stories in hopes of scaring you out of your nicotine addiction.

“Those little cigarettes you put in your mouth every day will kill you, pipsqueak.” He clicked his tongue as he eyed you pulling out a lighter from your pocket.

“So? People die every day; mine will just so happen to be earlier than others.” You responded cheekily as you let out a puff of white smoke.

Caleb really wasn’t having it, as his expression twisted into one of frustration.

“But all your teeth will rot and fall out.”

“Then I’ll just buy myself a new set of teeth.” You replied in that same annoying, cheeky tone.

Caleb decides to go for the teasing older-brother approach instead. “Well then, what happens when you reach your 20s and you get premature wrinkles?” He playfully pinched your cheek with a mischievous grin. “You’ll lose all your cuteness, and then, your charms won’t work on me anymore.” He shrugs nonchalantly. "No more. Caleb, do this…Caleb, get me that…Caleb, do this for me, pleaseeee.” He chuckles softly. “I’ll finally be free from your control.”

Now normally, this would’ve probably worked on you, but you weren’t a child anymore, and you didn’t really need Caleb for favors either, but it still made you a little upset that your sense of dependency on Caleb is fading a little and that there’s a small rift in your relationship. And it’s not the fault of the cigarettes; it’s just how life goes. You grow up and change, even through a short period of time. You sigh before extinguishing the cigarette. “I want to quit. But it’s just so hard for me. I feel like there’s always one big calamity after another, and I just—I just feel the need to take the edge off sometimes. It’s familiar now. It’s all I know in times of stress or boredom.”

Caleb slowly lands on his knees to face you as his much larger hands swallow your own. “Hey, look at me. It’s going to be alright. You don’t have to do it all at once, just take it one step at a time. I know I may not always be there for you in times of crisis, but I will try to make an effort to help you fight this battle.” He expresses it in a soft and solemn voice. It soothed you a little.

And so Caleb tried to help you with your sobriety journey by handing you an endless supply of gum, stress toys, and daily check ins as your “accountability” guide. But sadly none of that worked, you’d relapse and relapse until you quit your sobriety journey. Caleb didn’t see this as a lost cause per se; he still tried to convince you to try quitting, but you never really cared enough to try.

Once you graduated and got yourself a job, that’s when you really began burning the candle at both ends. Not only did you get into your job, but you also decided to partake in grad school as well for better specialization opportunities. You smoked around 12-13 cigarettes a day, you’d skip your lunch just to have a quick smoke. It got so bad you’d spend more of your money on packs of cigarettes than actual food.

When you first started dating Rafayel, you’d try to minimize your smoking. You’d brush your teeth (twice) before seeing him and would always keep a pack of mints on your person in case he’d try to kiss you. You didn’t want Rafayel to find out about your smoking habits, you’d read somewhere in a magazine that guys don’t find smokers attractive, and it’s not like you cared what guys think, and it’s not like you to change yourself to get someone to like you, but you really really liked Rafayel, and you would do almost anything to keep him.

Sadly, after a month into your relationship, Rafayel found out. He was going to send you a lunchbox he’d prepared for you at your workplace, only to spot you in the alleyway with a cigarette between your lips. You panicked, feeling crushed and that your relationship was going to fall apart.

But Rafayel smiled softly. "It's okay, cutie, I don’t see you any differently than I do now. But why were you hiding this from me?” He tilted his head in curiosity.

“I didn’t want you to be…grossed out…with me.” You murmured softly as you threw the cigarette on the ground, extinguishing it with your shoe.

"Oh, you, I could never be disgusted with you.” He whispered softly as he walked towards you to caress your cheek, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek bone in a tender manner.

“The truth is, I tried quitting back then, but- I-just couldn’t help myself. Life is so hard, Rafayel!" You whined as you rested your forehead on his shoulder.

“You humans and your bad habits.” He replied softly as he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

“Do you really want to quit?” Rafayel asked, his gaze solemn as he pulled you away, his hands firmly placed on your shoulders to look deeply into your eyes.

You nod your head. You wanted to be sober, not just for Rafayel, but for yourself as well.

Rafayel would visit you in your workplace often to send you lunch (and flirt too). He’d send positive affirmations early in the morning (mostly one of those cheesy images with a cute cartoon character) and sometimes give positive reinforcement too. His “rewards” started simple: stickers, candy, and iced tea. Then an idea popped into his head.

“We can trade smoking for kisses. Every time you feel the need to smoke, just say the word and I’ll give you something to keep your lovely mouth busy.”

At first you thought the idea was a little silly, but who were you to deny the Lemurian's magical kisses?

And my goodness, the kisses were more effective than you thought.

After work you’d drive over to White Sand Bay to see your lover and kiss until the sun rose, and it wasn’t just you that was getting addicted. Rafayel would put off some of his projects to spend more time with his girlfriend in hopes of “helping her get rid of her bad habits," but it was also super self-indulgent. You’d sleep over at his place with your work clothes prepared for you to leave in the morning, and sometimes he’d visit too.

Things were going perfectly until, one day, things weren’t as magical as you’d hoped. For starters, Rafayel wasn’t with you the night before since he had a deadline, and if he didn’t meet it, Thomas would have his head! (Not literally.)

You practiced your usual morning routine and got ready for work, but as you were combing your hair, for some reason it just wouldn’t look good no matter what way you tried to part it or style it. it just looked so unsightly. Never mind the bad hair day, when you drove on your way to work, there was traffic! “Noooo! Why now?!” Today was a very important day too, you had to present your project to your boss and other superiors.

You finally made it, but you were 20 minutes late, you still had an hour left until it was time for you to present your project. You were constantly checking any nearby mirrors or reflecting windows, trying to fix your hair, but it just won’t behave!

When it was finally time to present your project, everything was going well, but you noticed the bored, unimpressed faces of your superiors. One of them was literally on his phone playing online chess! Were you a joke to them? You froze in place for a moment before continuing on the presentation.

When the meeting ended, your boss had asked for some one-on-one time with you, but really all he did was just yell at you over how mediocre the presentation was and that everyone was bored out of their minds. You felt really awful over this and couldn’t help but blame yourself over your own mediocrity.

Lunchtime came around, but rafayel wasn’t around to visit, and apart of you was grateful for that because you went to hide in the bathroom stalls to cry, not just for your boss yelling at you, but also because withdrawal was really getting to you. Badly.

By the time it was time for you to clock out, you stepped out of the building to head to the parking lot, only for the heel of your (very expensive) shoes to break off. What a disaster!

You cried as you drove back home,today had been really hard. Sure, it may not have been the worst day ever, but it was still tough, and you sadly didn’t have your knight in shining armor to save you from the dreadful day.

You made a quick stop at the convenience store to buy yourself a sweet treat to make yourself feel better. As you walked with a limp in your footing (no thanks to the broken heel), you passed by the tobacco section, eyeing a pack of cigarettes down like a predator narrowing its gaze on its prey.

You had to hold yourself back, you and Rafayel had already put in so much effort on your sobriety journey. But then again, you can’t exactly reach sobriety without relapsing a little. you felt torn between staying loyal to your health or your comfort.

You bought the pack.

But you weren’t going to smoke it! You just wanted to have it in your hands for the familiarity.

When you made it back home and changed out of your work clothes to more comfortable pajamas, you sat on your sofa, holding the pack of cigarettes close to your chest with a gloomy expression. This journey is hard, it’s not just the withholding, it’s the fact that you feel the restraint. every. single. day.

“Cutie! "I'm here, I’m so sorry for being so late Thomas said—" he paused for a moment as he witnessed the display in front of him.

“(Name), what are you doing with that?” He asked gently as he slowly walked over to where you were sitting.

You felt a sting in your eyes, and your lower lip wobbled. You threw the pack onto the floor.

“Oh Rafayel, today has been awful.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, feeling the exhausted and overwhelming effects of withdrawal collapse onto you. Rafayel held you in his arms as he heard you cry away your woes to him.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, I should’ve been more conscious about leaving you on your own in a time like this.” He murmurs softly as his thumbs gently wipe away your tears.

“N-no, it’s not your fault. I can’t just expect you to save me all the time.” You think back to how Caleb tried to be there for you, but he couldn’t just drop everything just to look after you (even though he absolutely would if you asked him to, and the same goes for Rafayel.)

“This is a war that I’ve created within myself, and I must learn how to fight it.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone, you know you’ve got me.” He lifts your chin with his thumb, sharing a gentle grin.

“I know, Rafa, but I’d like to depend on myself with these matters from time to time. I have to learn how to hold myself accountable, otherwise, how else would I be able to make it through things that are harder? I am the only person that steers through my life, and I have to maintain some sort of control or ownership over it. I can’t keep repeating the same mistakes without learning, otherwise, I’ll never really grow or change as a person.”

Rafayel smiled. he really did like your sense of independence and how you desired to be more responsible. He grabs the pack of cigarettes from the floor before holding it up to his face.

“Then~ would you rather choose this stinky pack of cigarettes or the lovely, handsome, talented, respected artist, Rafayel?"

You blinked before chuckling softly.

"You, of course.” You propped yourself on your knees on the sofa before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss, only to for him place his index finger between your lips to stop you.

“Prove it.”

He challenged, a glint in his dual-colored rose and violet eyes.

You stopped for a moment before you sighed. you took the packet of cigarettes, heading to the kitchen. Rafayel followed you as he watched you dump the pack of cigarettes into a water cup before throwing it into the disposable bin.

“Now that’s my girl, come on, let’s go take a bath together, and get your mind off of these things.”

He gently grabbed your hand to guide you to the bathroom and prepare a warm bubble for the both of you.

The following week thankfully went smoothly. Rafayel had helped you a lot, but it was mostly you that did most of the effort into your journey.

But then a week after that, there was this one moment when you had been too busy, you’d barely respond to Rafayel’s texts, and you two hadn't gone out on a date for a while. When you got back home from work, you were surprised to see Rafayel dressed in…a cigarette costume?!

“What the—what's all this?”

“How do you like me now, cutie?” He smirked as he pranced in his costume before twirling around to give you a full view.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, there was that sound he missed hearing.

“You look so silly! Where did you even get that?”

“Some guy by beach was selling a bunch of bizarre costumes. I had to buy this one to get your attention.”

“Aww, that’s not fair, Rafie, you know I don’t smoke anymore.” You whined, "Work has just been a lot lately."

“It’s always work, work, work with you.” He pouted before crossing his arms.

“You don’t have to dress up as my number one weakness to get my attention.” You replied, "And this is so not fair! You’re rubbing salt on the wound too. I’m the one that has to suffer here.”

“Hmph, try waiting 800 years, then we’ll talk about suffering."

“Okay then, Mr. Cigarette. I’d really like my boyfriend to spend time with me. I would spend time with you, but…you’re bad for me. And I promised myself I’d never ever come to you in times of boredom or stress.”

“So you’re saying you don’t need me?”

Mr. Cigarette asked with a curious gaze.

“No, I never have, as for my boyfriend, I can’t say I imagine a life without him. He’s my whole heart.”

Rafayel felt himself melt a little as he took off the costume. “I can’t imagine a life without you either, (Name.)”

[junexyz613]

In my mind, Caleb will read fairy tales to me every night, and when I'm fall asleep, he'll secretly give a soft kiss on my cheek. 🧸🍎