#and also i'm like hehe... Gift. >:)) from parents !

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[astrxealis]

i miss dos2 i miss my lil elf guy

[astraystayyh]

Orange

hyunjin x reader. childhood friends to lovers. implied soulmates. hyune's pov.

this is the prequel & sequel to you're in the wind, i'm in the water. you need to read the prev fic first to understand how hyunjin and mc confessed to one another!!

this is very self indulgent but it's also my bd gift so i get a pass hehe also a tribute to one of my fav love languages which is peeling an orange for someone :')

based on Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey,, so highly recommend listening to it while reading :)) feedback is appreciated as always <333

i'm on the run with you my sweet love

The beige sand warms the soles of your feet as you and Hyunjin run along the shore. His parents sit by a towel, watching you with idle curiosity as you’re propelled forth by the brisk winds; and a sense of feedom only found in the tender hearts of children.

Hyunjin doesn’t know where you’re taking him. He didn’t question you when you entwined your fingers with his before running away, your footprints etched upon the sandy canvas. His sole attention was on your clammy hand, tightly clasping his.

Hyunjin didn’t yet understand what it meant to crave the hand of someone in yours, for it to feel natural for fingers to hold one another. He was only seven. What does one really know at this age?

But he knew that he was drawn to grand things. The beauty of fireworks as they unfold in the sky, dazzling colors rivaling the hues of sunsets. To the towering sunflowers his mother takes him to see, so tall their petals almost seem to be reaching for the sun’s embrace. To the full moon and the way it hangs close to earth, as if yearning to enter our horizon, to sink into the soil and rest.

But in that moment, as he watched your gleeful smile, the blush tinting your cheeks as you tugged him along, a different amazement grew within his soul. It was quiet, it was soft, it didn't overwhelm his seven-years-old heart. It was enough.

You finally stop by a rock, settling in the sand with your hair fanning around you like a halo. Hyunjin hovers over you, his tentative gaze tracing your features, trying to pinpoint what had made that peculiar feeling pour over his body, like candle wax finally meeting its destined mold.

He doesn't find an answer, only your kind smile as you tap the place near you. You were giddy, as if you had run far when his parents remained mere meters away.

Hyunjin had noticed this urge in you to flee, to wander, always. He didn't know what it means. He thought that perhaps you didn't know either. He wondered if you'd ever run away from him. The question burned the tip of his tongue.

"Will we always run together?" Hyunjin suddenly asks, kneeling to meet your eyes.

"If you want to," you shrug. "Will you run away with me when we're older?"

"Where to?" he asks, a note of apprehension coloring his tone.

"I don't know. We'll know later."

"Okay."

"You pinky promise?"

"I do," Hyunjin entwines his pinky with yours, before leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. He avoids your eyes as a dusty blush cascades on his cheeks, akin to the fading pink of a sunken sunset. You giggle, reciprocating the kiss before pressing your thumbs together.

"Sealed forever," you grin, eyes disappearing into moon crescents. Your contagious happiness mirrors instantly on Hyunjin's face, his nose scrunching up in delight.

He wants to keep this smile on your face, he thinks, this intricate joy that dawns upon your features, brightening up your face, making your pinky in his feel lighter, warmer.

So, he takes out an orange from his pocket.

"Where did you get this?" you chuckle, eyes widening in delight as if presented with the world's most treasured jewel.

"A vendor gave it to me," he shrugs, handing it to you.

Your thumb punctures the tangerine's thick skin, making the fruit’s juice drip down your hands. You attempt to peel it but the skin breaks instantly, falling into the sand.

"Here, let me," Hyunjin offers, taking the orange from your hands, peeling it for you.

A strange warmth slowly spreads through his being, akin to tree roots anchoring onto the soil, to the unfurling of petals on the first day of spring. It feels good, for some reason, to do this mundane task for you.

This newfound feeling only solidifies when you smile brightly at him, breaking the fruit into two halves and handing one part to Hyunjin.

You no longer look like you want to run. You look content here, simply sharing an orange with him.

Hyunjin suddenly wants to buy you a whole crate of tangerines. Maybe even a farm of it- just trees upon trees that he can plant for you. He chases the thought away, he's only seven, he doesn't have money, where would he even store the oranges?

Hyunjin didn't have the answer to this question, nor the million ones swirling in his mind. But he knew your smile, the kindness in your eyes, the lingering scent of oranges on his fingers, even after washing his hands. And the word that sat heavy on his soul, from that night forth.

Hyunjin knew he loved you when he was seven years old.

there is nothing wrong contemplating God; under the chemtrails over the country club

"Found you," Hyunjin whispers, reclining on the rooftop near you.

"Wasn't hiding from you," you respond just as softly, your gaze fixed on the turquoise sky overhead. Your words cause Hyunjin's heart to swell within his chest, growing, expanding, pushing against his ribs, yearning to escape and splatter at your feet.

His emotions were always so grand- his happiness consuming his entire being, the sadness, the loneliness rattling his bones with an invincible cold. Then the love for you, not in dependence, the way the planets orbit around the sun. But with choice, because he wants to, craves being near.

"What are you doing?" he asks after a while, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Watching the chemtrails," you point out a tiny plane leaving a white trail in the sky.

"It looks so far away," he whispers in wonder, and you hum with a melancholic expression. Hyunjin curls his hand into a fist, resisting the urge to smooth the delicate frown etched on your brows.

"Didn't you like your birthday celebration?" he finally asks. He knows the answer before you quietly say, 'yes.' You were never one for the chic attire, the fine china and polished silverware reflecting the guests fake smiles. You only ever came to the country club for Hyunjin.

"I just... these people are here for me, supposedly. And yet, I feel so invisible downstairs. I bet no one even noticed my absence."

"I did," he replies instantly, contradicting you vehemently, wanting to dispel the shadows that cloud your mind. "And... I brought you an orange," he adds, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It grows when you beam at him, the chemtrails momentarily forgotten.

"Did you?"

"Mm, here," he swiftly peels the fruit for you, instinctively breaking it into two halves.

"I'm sixteen and I don't know how to peel a tangerine because of you," you giggle, biting into one part eagerly. Water dribbles down the side of your mouth, and Hyunjin delicately wipes it away, his hand cradling your jaw gently.

His heart beats wildly, drowning out the country club's orchestra. He's never been this close to you, noses nearly bumping into one another.

"Don't learn how to," he whispers, licking his lips nervously. He hopes you can't feel the tremor in his hand as it slides down your cheek.

"Why?"

"Then you won't need me anymore," he says honestly, and your eyes widen at his words. Say it, his heart pleads, I can't contain this love anymore. Hyunjin shakes his head, silencing his own thoughts. He'll make room for it; his heart will expand, even if it means bursting at the seams. He can't face your rejection.

"Can I ask you something?" you say after a while, still as close to him.

"Anything."

"Do you ever feel like you don't belong anywhere? You have friends and family, but you feel like..."

"Nobody's son?" he suggests.

"Yeah, nobody's daughter."

"Maybe we're not meant to belong to anyone else but ourselves."

"Isn't that sad?" you ask, bringing an orange wedge to Hyunjin's mouth. "What if I don't always have myself?"

"Well, you'll always have me."

"Do you promise me?" you ask eagerly, eyes wide, tone almost desperate.

"I promise." The fog dissipates, light spilling over your face once again.

"Even though you're so sought after?" you giggle.

"I'm not!"

"You are! Everybody wanted to talk to you downstairs. You're always the man of the hour," you wink, lying down on the floor once again.

"Really? I didn't notice," he says, settling next to you.

"Mm, you never notice anything," you sigh, resting your cheek atop his shoulder.

It's quiet again, save for the tranquil sound of your breaths. Your eyes are trained on the sky, following the path of each plane.

"They look really tiny."

"Maybe we're the small ones," you muse.

Hyunjin doesn't agree. Not when his love for you feels almost ancient, drawn from the depths of the very first fountain of love. It has stayed with him for nine years, intermingled with the very molecules of his being. You can't be small when what he feels for you is grander than the world.

"Maybe we are," he says as he slides an arm underneath your back, pulling you closer to his chest.

"Hyune," you call out softly.

"Mm?" he hums in reply.

"What do you think you're made for?"

I'm here to love you, he wants to say, achingly, fully, on your grand days and your small ones. To fall apart at the altar of your soul and to rise anew, by you, for you. To be yours.

"I'm here to peel you oranges." He whispers instead, his confession, for now.

"And I'm here to eat them, then."

we laugh about nothing as the summer gets cool; it's beautiful how this deep normality settles down over me

"Did you know you have a straight trail of moles on your back?" Hyunjin whispers, his cool breath akin to a gentle zephyr.

"It starts here," he bestows a tender kiss beneath your shoulder blade, as if marking the start of a constellation. "Then you have another one here," his lips brush against your skin, coaxing forth delicate goosebumps, like ripples on a moonlit pond. "And here," he trails down your spine, his mouth weaving a trail only he can see. "And a final one here," he lingers longer near the last mole, lips meeting your lower back delicately, akin to the tender graze of a feather.

If you had told Hyunjin that he would freely kiss your moles, hands trailing down your skin scented with chlorine and vanilla, he would have thought you were insane. But now he has you, because you want him too, against all odds. Hyunjin wasn't alone in his love; every emotion in your soul mirrored his own. Two sides of the same coin. Two halves of the same tangerine.

"And then... it wraps around your stomach," he flips you around until you face him, giddy giggles escaping your lips. "You see it? It goes right here, another straight line," he whispers in wonder, tracing over the moles on your skin as if in worship. There is so much he longs to articulate, words yearning to spill from his mouth. He realizes he can say them now, drape them over your body like a blanket knitted with love.

"Someone plucked stars and arranged them on your skin. You're a galaxy on your own, you know that right? So beautiful," he whispers, eyes wide in adulation, raking over each feature of yours, so much they're seared behind his eyelids. The only sight he sees when he goes to sleep.

"So are you," you smile, hands gently cradling his cheeks. Hands that held him at age seven, then eight, ten, thirteen, and twenty. Hands that dried his tears, patted his back, and played with his hair. Hands that are much more sacred than his own.

"No, you don't understand," he hovers over you, gently smoothing down your hair. "You're so beautiful, so much it dizzies me, consumes me. You consume me, entirely, and I-" He sucks in a deep breath as you smile lovingly, reassuringly.

"I know," you say. "I feel it too."

"I can't believe this is real," he shakes his head, thumb tracing your lower lip gently. "I didn't even plan on confessing when i brought you to this pool. And yet... it feels natural for us to be this way."

You nod, grinning. "Like we belong to one another."

"I told you I'd stay," his eyes soften, capturing you with the same tenderness as always, savoring every part of you.

"You always keep your promises," you smile, hand sliding down the nape of his neck, smoothing a stubborn tuft of hair.

Normal, that's the elusive term he was looking for. It is normal for him to hold you, to kiss you, to look into your eyes and find love swimming in your irises. It is the way it's supposed to be between you. He couldn't ever think of another outcome.

His eyes trail down to your arm, where two moles match perfectly with his, down to the placement, the space separating them both.

"Is this where we kissed each other the most in our past lives?" he trails off, knuckles brushing against your arm gently. You mirror his touch.

"So you believe we're soulmates?"

"Mm, I've always known."

"And why didn't you tell me?" you grin, tilting your head to the side.

"I peeled you tangerines."

His words seem to ignite something within you, memories of each time he peeled you oranges flooding back. Every birthday, each time you were sad, every time the fruit was near.

You stand up, straddling Hyunjin's lap, and then you kiss his eye mole, then the one on his cheek, trailing down his jaw mole, his neck, his arms.

"What are you doing?" he giggles, warm hands on your lower back.

"Making sure those moles show up in our next life too."

And at your words, Hyunjin swore that the citrusy scent of tangerines suddenly wafted in the air.

washing my hair, doing the laundry, late night TV i want you only

Your legs are comfortably propped on top of Hyunjin's, matching pairs of beige pajamas seamlessly merging into one another. The sweet scent of shampoo lingers in the air—a fragrance Hyunjin carefully massaged into your hair twenty minutes ago, his fingers still as gentle as they grazed your scalp, now at the age of twenty-six.

Nearly two decades later, Hyunjin still knows that he loves you. It is a different one from the love he felt at seven—a metamorphosis akin to the moon's phases, from crescent to full, distinct yet continuous. It clung to his being, melted into the very essence of his soul.

"Just how many white shirts do you own?" you giggle, folding another pair of Hyunjin's clothing, the melody of your laughter still rattling the insides of his heart. He smiles sheepishly, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before responding, "You wear half of them with me."

"Your clothes are mine. You agreed on this when you proposed to me," you state matter-of-factly.

"And what else did I agree on?" he smiles, placing two pairs of matching socks in the basket—yours and his.

"That you'd kiss me instead of doing the laundry," you say mischievously, and he chuckles, tilting his head back. The clothes are momentarily forgotten as he lowers your body onto the couch, one hand cradling your head.

"You know I can't say no to you," he smiles, left dimple appearing as it always does when you're near.

"I know," you grin, pulling him down by the hem of his pajamas, your lips meeting his.

Hyunjin still kisses you with the same quiet passion, slowly, as if rediscovering you all over again. His hand cradles your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek gently, as his lips find yours again and again—rosy, plump, seeking solace in your familiar warmth.

He's always been drawn to mysteries, grand things, and overwhelming emotions that defy comprehension. Things he'd never fully know, things he'd never be bored of. Yet, with you, it's different; he knows you, he's learned you, and he loves you more every day—purposefully, by choice, because he can't fathom a reality where he doesn't.

His lips press upon yours one last time before he pulls you onto his lap, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "You smell nice," he whispers.

"I smell like you."

"I know," he smiles, a gentle breeze escaping his lips and caressing your skin.

He closes his eyes, savoring the quietness, the domesticity of the scene—the folded laundry on the table, the background hum of the TV, the meal you'll cook later, waltzing under the fridge's light. You, the one love of his life—the small love and the grand one, the first love and the last one. The embodiment of it all.

Your arms drape around his shoulders as you relax in his hold, your breaths syncing into a tranquil rhythm. He's built himself a home in the ridges of your collarbones, a place for him to rest in the crook of your shoulder blade. Both of you are okay, both of you are safe.

"Do you remember when we were seven? We traveled together for the first time," you speak after a while, a weighty emotion enveloping your voice.

"I do."

"You promised me we'd run away when we grow older."

"I did."

"I don't want to run anymore. I'm content with you, right here," you whisper, and the words feel like sunflowers blooming in Hyunjin's chest. "I was so scared of growing up, of never feeling like I belong. To myself, to anyone. But I do, with you."

"Always," he pulls away, bringing your hand to his mouth, leaving sweet kisses on your ring finger.

"Thank you, my Hyune," you say, tears gathering in your eyes like morning dewdrops on leaves. "Thank you for peeling my oranges."

Your nose brushes against his, his thumb drawing circles on your palm.

"Thank you for pretending you don't know how to."

[merakiui]

KYYAAAAAA MERA!! ebb and flow’s anniversary! It’s been a year but it feels like barely any time has passed at all… such a beautiful fic! One of my favorites (if not my favorite) of your works… something about it just scratched an itch in my brain and it’s been lodged in there ever since… >.<

Thinking about role reversal with the tweels step-sibling au… Maybe you always wanted a brother when you were younger. It was lonely being an only child! So you were desperate for a sibling to dote on you and protect you. You were practically bursting with excitement when you found out you’d be getting—not one—but TWO new brothers after your parents remarried!

You were disillusioned quite quickly after, though. Once they got comfortable they were constantly teasing and bullying you! Instead of protecting you, they started becoming the meanies you needed protecting from; pulling your hair, taking your toys! How disappointing…

Trey was always so sweet with his younger siblings… and Sebek and his family got along just fine! So what were you doing wrong…? Why couldn’t your brothers be like that…?

… Maybe you never fully outgrew your frustrations with them as you all grew older. And even as they mellowed out, you never fully got over trying to win their affections…

“Just let me stay in your bed for one night, Jade? I had a really bad nightmare! Wha— I’m not acting like a baby! You’re so cruel… there’s room if you let me squish in!”

“Floyd… these heels are really hurting my feet. Can you carry me? … take them off…? And walk barefoot?! No! I know you’re really strong anyway, you can handle it. 3… 2… 1…!”

“You think it’s weird I’m clinging to my brothers all the time…? Ah. You’re an only child, Riddle; you wouldn’t get it. We’re just close like that.”

… And maybe a bit of that was some subconscious vengeance biting through as well…

“NO! I didn’t steal one of your ‘toys,’ Floyd! That’s so gross! How could you even say that?! What would I even do with it anyway? Don’t be weird…”

“Hm? No… I don’t know where your journal is, Jade… You found it in my room? A-Ah… I must’ve mistaken it for your chemistry notebook. What were you doing looking through my stuff anyway?”

“Ack! Azul! Don’t touch that…! NO, it’s not my brother’s gym shirt. It’s- uh- my boyfriend’s! You saw him wearing it yesterday…? It’s just a shirt. It could belong to anyone…”

… You just adored them so much! Who could blame you if you were always outdoing their girlfriends’ gifts and attention…? If you never corrected anyone who thought you were dating…? If you wanted to be something a little more than just step-siblings…? They’ll come around eventually :)

OMG IT'S ALREADY BEEN A YEAR??? That's one of my favorite fics!!! I'm very fond of the casual vibes,, also, it was very fun to write hehe. Galdive's "bloom" inspired me as soon as I heard it last year. :D

But aaaa I love the reversal!!! >w< darling who is the one obsessed with their stepbrothers. >:D desperately trying to earn their attention and affection, even though it's so clearly not reciprocated. T^T stealing their shirts and wearing them to bed, insisting to your bestie Azul that it's your (nonexistent) boyfriend's shirt. Just so incredibly hopeless when it comes to your brothers. >_<

What if,,,,, darling who adores them so much that you're using Azul in place of them,,, the unintentional, one-sided fwb. Azul who knows this is only because he's the temporary replacement for your own brothers, but he's wanted this for so long and this opportunity might never come along again. Fucking in the dark and you're pretending it's Jade or Floyd on top of you. orz

[auggieblogs]

From mine to yours | Max Verstappen Instagram au

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ Max does not hide his blatant favouritism!!!

Author's note: HAPPY DIWALI TO EVERYONE CELEBRATING!!! I hope all of you are doing good. This smau is a service to all my brown girlies, (and @maxiepinkz) consider it a Diwali gift. Also, my non-brown girles, all of you can read it just for the funnies (I like to think I am hilarious). Anyway, I love you all so much. Happy reading, my loves🤍

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 124,789 others

yourusername Happy Diwali🪔

tagged maxverstappen1

comments:

username parents if I may

username MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A BLACK KURTA THIS IS NOT A DRILL HSJAHDSG

username me and who

landonorris Diwali is my favourite festival actually

maxverstappen1 We'll send over the leftover sweets Lando, don't worry landonorris good because Oscar was worried oscarpiastri EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL- yourusername It's okay Osc, we know it is actually Lando landonorris NUH UH

username Y/N, meri jaan<3 (Y/N my beloved)

username this could be us but you don't even know what is Diwali

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username Thank you Y/NNN username Thank uuuu, Y/N you're doing god's work username we owe you Y/N😭 yourusername You're welcome my bacchas mwah😘 (You're welcome my babies)

maxverstappen1 I love you kaafi zyada (I love you a lot)

yourusername more than redbull sugar-free? maxverstappen know your limits (yes)

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martingarrix Sick party, sick music and I WON THAT GAME OF CARDS

yourusername Martin puh lease🤚🏼🙄

charles_leclerc I need that party playlist Y/N I'm begging

lewishamilton +1

lilymhe omg me too!!!

yourusername anything for my favourite lady🫶🏼

username Y/N making all the firangis (foreigners) dance on desi music like yessss queen reverse colonisation or something

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maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 450,314 others

maxverstappen1 Happy Diwali, from mine to yours❤️🪔

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username this is heartwarming awh!!!

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sophiekumpen Beautiful, Y/N💕

*liked by maxverstappen1 and yourusername*

yourusername Thank you so much, Sophie🥰

username I absolutely adore the Diwali vibes✨

username he posted 6 pics and 3/6 of them is Y/N I AM ON THE FLOOR

username down horrendously

username can you blame him though???

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yourusername I love you, Max. Kaafi zyada. Bohot zyada. HADD SE ZYADA. (I love you, Max. A lot. Like A LOT. Beyond limits)

maxverstappen1 And I love you usse bhi zyada (And I love you more)

yourusername sharm aa gyi mujhe hehe🤭 (I’m blushing)

username Max learning Hindi for Y/N can be something so personal

username his side quests are getting out of hands

username bro probably did it to impress the in-laws

yourusername he knows 3 languages, what’s one more?😼

maxverstappen1 I am a romantic like that actually😊

username pretty pretty

username nahh this mf keeps winning on and off track annoying asf🙄👎🏼 ( I love them so much)

username oh to celebrate Diwali with my white boyfriend😭🙏🏼

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yourusername rishta material fr🤤 (marriageable)

danielricciardo It's the way we all were at the celebration and you managed to post just Y/N.

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username my desi girllll

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landonorris nahhh no way after the ladoo incident

alexalbon Y/N is going to pull out her hair😭

yourusername uhm I'm actually conflicted tbh.

username WHAT IS THE LADOO INCIDENT?

Diwali, also known as Deepavali, is a Hindu festival celebrated with great enthusiasm across India and various other parts of the world. It symbolizes the victory of light over darkness and good over evil. Diwali typically involves lighting oil lamps or diyas, decorating homes, exchanging gifts, and enjoying festive meals with family and friends. The festival holds cultural, religious, and social significance, promoting the spirit of joy, unity, and hope.

A ladoo (also spelt laddu) is a popular and traditional Indian sweet. It is a round-shaped sweet ball made from various ingredients, including flour, sugar, and ghee (clarified butter). Ladoos are often prepared during festivals, celebrations, and religious occasions in India. They are considered a symbol of good luck and are distributed as a gesture of joy.

Needless to say, it's my favourite time of the year😁

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader - Part 3

a/n: omg thanks again for all the love on the last two parts! i'm probably going to make a masterlist to make all the parts more accessible <3 i feel so special when i see y'all's comments so don't be afraid to share your thoughts! this chapter is a little shorter but only because that's just how the events are playing out! btw, this one starts out with a flashback, it can be a lil confusing hehe but anyways enjoy! (also none of these are proofread LMAO so ignore mistakes)

part 1, part 2, part 4

word count: 3.0k words

warnings: ANGSTTT, language, drugs, alcohol, smoking

It was finally time to depart from your first summer at Saltburn. School was going to start in a week, and you wanted to spend some time relaxing at home before the chaos of your penultimate year in secondary school. 

The summer had been a wild yet fun time. You had so much freedom to do whatever you pleased, and you didn’t really know how to spend your time, since you were usually so focused on your academics.

You warmed up to the Catton family quite a lot. You understood you didn’t really fit in, but it was nice to pretend you did. Elspeth had even gifted you one of her old necklaces that probably would have paid for a car if you had sold it.

You and Venetia spent countless hours together; by the poolside, in your rooms, doing each other's nails or makeup, and playing tennis. Although she was a few years older than you, she was like the sister you never had.

As for Felix, your friendship only grew. You were thankful for him, for being so kind to you and welcoming you into a world you had never known before.

And Farleigh. Your relationship with him was… complicated. One moment, you would hurl stupid and immature insults at each other, and the next, you would be having a peaceful conversation. But the latter usually only occured when you were alone with him, which didn’t happen often. He let his guard down when he wasn’t around his family, which you found strange, but you never questioned it.

You were going to miss this place. You had to return to your normal, everyday life as a student with a normal house and normal parents. 

“We’re going to miss you dearly, love. We hope you visit again next year,” Elspeth remarked as you all sat around the breakfast table on the patio.

“Yeah. Felix, invite her again,” Venetia nudged her brother as she whispered loudly. Felix grinned and looked at you from across the table.

“So, what’s been your favorite part about your stay?” Elspeth questioned, leaning forward with curiosity.

“Honestly, I can’t even pick. It’s all been amazing. Really.” You said. You meant every single word. But you could’ve actually picked a favorite part, you just didn’t want to admit what, or who it was.

A while later, you were standing at the large front doors with your packed bags in your hands. 

Venetia embraced you tightly and you dropped your bags so you could hug her back. “See you next year, hopefully,” She said with a smile after releasing you.

“Yeah. See you.” You nodded and then looked over to Felix who was now also coming in for a hug.

“Bye, mate. I’ll see you at school, alright?” He patted your back as he pulled away and you smiled with a nod. 

Farleigh stood farther away, watching the goodbyes at a distance. You stared him down, trying to will him to come over. 

“Bye.” He simply said, expressionless. “Bye, Farleigh,” You smiled softly at him. You weren’t sure when the next time you would see him would be. He blinked at you and held your gaze before you turned away as Duncan was opening the doors for you. 

“Your cab is waiting outside the gates, miss,” He informed you. You nodded and picked up your bags.

~~~

2 YEARS LATER

It was your first evening at Oxford. You had just arrived and gotten most of your things unpacked, and then you and Felix were headed to the dining hall.

You remembered a few months ago when Felix told you Farleigh would be going to Oxford as well. You didn’t really know what you thought about this. Part of you was interested in seeing him in a different setting, not just at Saltburn during your summer holiday. Was he nicer to people at school? Did he even care about schoolwork?

“I told Farleigh to sit with us,” Felix mentioned as you walked next to him. You nodded. “Okay. How has he been?” You asked. You knew better than to care about him, since the feeling was clearly unrequited. You don’t think he would care if you died a sudden death.

But it was harmless, and only in a friendship kind of way. Or whatever complicated relationship you two had. 

“Good, I think,” Felix said. “You know, his mom went to Oxford. In a way, he’ll be able to connect with her. By being here, I mean.” He explained. You could tell it was his attempt at being philosophical. You just nodded and pretended to follow what he was saying.

You both walked into the large dining hall, mini lamps placed on top of the long tables to light the dim, high-ceilinged room.

You found some empty seats and sat down. A few minutes later, Felix had already spotted Farleigh and was waving for him to come over. You followed Felix’s line of sight and saw  Farleigh’s familiar coiled hair, and it seemed that maybe he had let it grow a bit longer than usual.

He was actually smiling for once, and it was such a rare sight you had to blink to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.

“Hey,” He grinned as he took the seat on the other side of you, pulling it closer to the table.

You had seen Farleigh earlier this month when you were still at Saltburn, but for some reason, he looked different. Like he grew up, or something. You couldn’t put your finger on what had changed, though.

Sure, he had recently turned 18, shortly before you did. But the whole aura radiating from Farleigh felt different and more mature. Or maybe it was the new designer clothes you had noticed, or the new necklaces and rings he was sporting. 

“Hi,” You smiled. You realized you must have been staring, and you quickly glanced away to survey the rest of the students filing into the hall.

You spaced out during the small talk and stared into space, pondering how your first day would go tomorrow.

“Are you going to the party tonight?” Felix nudged you. You glanced up. “Uhh… What party?” You hated seeming clueless, but when it came to this kind of thing, you were.

“You know, to welcome all the first years. Us.” He nodded as if to gesture to everyone else.

“Oh. Right. I don’t know, I want to get some good sleep before tomorrow.” You replied while inspecting your nails and picking away at them. 

That statement was half true, half not. You did want to get some well-needed rest, but you were also just terrified of parties and large social gatherings. You could be awkward sometimes, and you were scared of what a real college party would include. Drugs, alcohol… It made you uncomfortable to think about.

“C’mon, please? For me?” Felix gave you the puppy eyes and you sighed. “It’ll be fun,” He reassured you. You looked over to Farleigh. “Are you going?” You asked him.

He looked offended by your question. “Duh,” He answered. You didn’t know why it mattered if he was going or not.

“Ughhh, fine.” You rolled your eyes and facepalmed. Felix grinned brightly. “Yesss,” He whispered.

You couldn’t deny that you were having a good time at the party. You made a few new friends and you were gaining some confidence.

The only problem was that Felix promised you he would stay with you the whole time, since he knew how weary you were with even going in the first place.

And where was he? Nowhere to be seen. You guessed he had run off with some girl already. Hell, within the first ten minutes of you three entering the function, about four girls were already up on him, desperately flirting and twirling their hair.

You were standing in a dark corner when you saw Farleigh approaching you. He had a glass bottle of beer in each of his hands.

“Hey, you want one?” He offered you one of the beers. You were bored out of your mind, so you shrugged and took it. The glass felt nice and cold against your hand.

“Have you seen Felix?” Your eyes darted around nervously. Farleigh shook his head. “Nope. Saw him leaving with some red-head chick, though.” He raised his eyebrows up and down which made you laugh.

He moved to stand next to you against the wall, observing the neon-lit dance floor. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He peered down at you.

You shrugged. “I guess? I’d rather be inside sleeping, though.” He groaned. “You’re so boring. You know why you’re not having fun, right?” He leaned down slightly. You shook your head. “No, enlighten me.”

“You’re not high enough,” He said, a smirk forming on his face. “Farleigh. I’m not gonna get high with you.” You scoffed and took a swig of your beer, wincing a bit at the taste.

“Some guy was giving out joints. It’s weed,” He explained, drawing a small plastic bag of rolled joints out of his pocket.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna just smoke weed from some random guy.” You blew a strand of hair out of your face.

“They’re legit, I swear.” He leaned down to your height and whispered, “I already tried one.” 

You shook your head again. “I don’t smoke, you know that.” He stood up straight.

“Just try it. Look, I’m not dead yet. See?” He twirled around and you giggled. “C’mon, we can go out here.” He nodded to the side door.

You just wanted him to stop bothering you, so you let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.” He excitedly spun on his heel and led you both over to the door before holding it open for you.

You stepped into the warm and dense air of the night, glancing around nervously like you might get caught by someone. But who are you kidding, pretty much everyone here smokes and probably does worse.

“Okay. I’ll light it for you. Do you wanna share it?” He asked, pulling out his lighter and flicking it on.

“Yeah.” You didn’t want the commitment of having it all to yourself. He lit the joint and you watched him take a hit. He made eye contact with you the whole time. It seemed simple enough— a short inhale and then exhale.

“You try,” He handed you the joint and you eyed it suspiciously before putting it to your lips. You took maybe too long of a hit and immediately began coughing, smoke billowing out of your mouth. 

“Woah, easy..”  Farleigh chuckled at your reaction and you felt his hand on the small of your back as you tried to catch your breath.

“You make it look so easy,” You cleared your throat and looked up at him with watery eyes. He smiled smugly at your words.

“Just takes practice,” He told you casually. “Smoking weed is something I’d rather not practice.” Farleigh laughed at your remark and took the joint to take another hit.

“Do you like Felix?” The question came out of the blue and you turned to him.

“What do you mean…?” You lifted an eyebrow as he passed the joint to you. He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms.

“Like, do you actually enjoy your friendship with him?” He asked. You actually considered the question for a long moment.

“Well, he’s like… the only close friend I have,” You said hesitantly. “I continue to be friends with him because I don’t have a reason not to,” You explained before taking a small hit from the joint.

“And you like the wealth and title that comes with him, yeah?” Farleigh’s words hung in the silence. You knew he was being too nice. It was too good to be true.

“Yeah, I like the summers at Saltburn, but that’s not the reason why I’m friends with him.” Or was it? No. You refused to let yourself get gaslighted by Farleigh. But you began to question your reasoning when you said it out loud.

“I mean, what else does he have to offer?” Farleigh asked as you exhaled the smoke. Why was he suddenly turning against Felix? You thought Farleigh loved Felix. Maybe you had it all wrong.

“He’s nice to me,” You flashed him a glare and he stared back at you, drilling his gaze into yours. “I’m nice to you.” He said in a harsher tone.

“When you want to be,” You shot back, pressing the joint to your lips again, staring out into the darkness.

“What do you have against Felix, anyway?” You broke the short moment of silence and turned to face him.

“Nothing. Forget I ever said anything,” He raised his arms up as if to defend himself. “No, you can’t say weird shit like that and then expect me not to question it,” You handed the joint back to him and headed for the door to go back in. You planned on drinking as much alcohol as possible to show him that you don’t need him to teach you how to have fun.

“Do you even know how to get back to your dorm?” He asked, his brows furrowed. “What do you care?” You scowled at him before going back inside. 

Sooner or later, you had downed your whole bottle of beer and then you were doing shots with some random group of girls. You didn’t remember the rest of that night, but at least you ended up in your bed by the morning, even if you had a horrible hangover.

~~~

Sunlight creeps through the window and knocks impatiently on your eyelids. You groan and sit up, opening your eyes to the bright sunrise shining through your curtains,

Memories of yesterday flood back to you. Your drama with Felix, the car ride and visit to your parents with Farleigh, and telling Venetia all about it when you got back.

Felix didn’t get back from London until late last night, so you were waiting to talk to him today.

You don’t want problems between the two of you, but sometimes he’s just so ignorant and out of touch. 

A little while after breakfast, you make your way to Felix’s room. He seemed hungover during breakfast, so you wonder if this is going to turn out well.

You hesitate before knocking. “Come in,” He calls. You twist the doorknob and carefully enter. His expression softens slightly at the sight of you. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with a book in his hands.

“Hey. Can we talk?” You ask quietly. He nods, setting the book down.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was in a mood, and I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” Felix starts before you can.

“Okay. But you know why I was mad, right?” You don’t want it to be that easy for him.

You can see the gears turning in his head. “Erm… because I couldn’t give you a ride?” He looks up at you, and you can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or not.

“No, it wasn’t just that. It’s the principle of it, Felix.” You shake your head. “The principle of what?” He asks, standing up.

“It just seems a lot like you care more about your popularity than you care about your best friend,” You explain, your voice shaking a bit. You don’t really like confrontation.

“No, that’s not true. I just-“

“Yes, it is. Ever since we got to Oxford. It’s always been this way. Leaving me alone at parties to go fuck some random girl, or multiple, for that matter.” Your voice is raised now and you can feel the anger rushing through your veins. All the things you’ve always wanted to say, but couldn’t.

“You know what, you should be thankful I even became your friend. Look what I’ve given you.” He gestures to what you’re assuming is the estate as a whole.

You scoff and laugh at his statement. “What you’ve given me? Are you kidding?! I’m not some stray animal off the street, Felix. I’m not homeless. I have parents. I have a home.” You feel tears welling up in your eyes already and that lump in your throat starting to form.

“Then why are you here?” This is the first time you’ve ever heard Felix really raise his voice. You both freeze in the silence and let his words hang in the air.

“You want me to leave? I can leave,” The tears are now falling down your cheeks as you blink. “No, wait-“

But it’s too late. You’re already storming out of his room and back to yours, which is just down the hall.

You see Farleigh standing near the end of the hallway, trying to eavesdrop. He notices your tears and is immediately heading over to you.

You try to get into your room and lock the door before Farleigh can get to you, but you fail. 

He guides you into your room, his hand pressed against your back firmly before closing the door with his free hand.

He embraces you in a gentle yet tight hug as you continue to sob. He rests his chin on your head and smooths some of your hair out. He holds you and lets you cry.

Farleigh was right about him. Felix thought he saved you from a horrible life. In reality, you would be fine without him. He was just a simple addition to your life.

You hardly realize the intimate moment that you’re in with Farleigh right now until your sobbing subsides.

You push away from him slightly, hands on his chest as you gaze up at him. You sniffle. “I got stuff on your shirt,” You laugh weakly and point at the wet spot on his shirt.

“It’s okay.” His arms return to his side and you find yourself missing the comfort of his arms around you and embracing you.

“Did you hear what he said?” You ask, wiping your eyes and sniffing again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He nods. “Are you going to say I told you so?” You smile softly as you wipe the rest of your tears away.

“Do you want me to say I told you so?” He grins down at you, his brown eyes bright with amusement. You shake your head. “No way.” You both laugh, and you think you’ll be okay.

[parasolyaa]

Buckle up, we're overanalysing Mischa's name

Firstly, it just cannot be his legal name on the documents. Mischa is always short for Mykhailo (equivalent to English Michael). Secondly, Bachinski is actually the Russian spelling of his surname, and, well, there was little chance of the writers using the correct form back in 2008. Ukrainian spelling is Bachynskyi! Thirdly, in Ukrainan and some other Slavic languages every person is supposed to have their father's name attached to their name. For example, if your father is Taras, and you are Andriy, than you would be Andriy Tarasovych. We do not know Mischa's dad's name, so for the sake of this exploration I'm just gonna go with Mykola (I just like this name and it is popular enough). That turns Mischa Bachinski into Mykhailo Bachynskyi Mykolayovych (Михайло Бачинський Миколайович)

+ I'm not sure, but Misha probably is a more accurate transcription of Міша than Mischa (update: i am now sure. Misha is objectively correct)

Now onto the etymology (sorta). The name Michael was gender-neutral with Hebrew origin (vaguely meaning "who is like God" or "gift from God", the second version is less accurate but I like it cause it plays well into my headcanon of Mischa being a miracle baby since it was unlikely for his mother to have a normal pregnancy after the radiation exposure). Odesa is a city with a lot of Jewish population so yeah. And also Michael is the name of an archangel in the Bible.

But as for Mykhailo specifically, a random Ukrainian article says:

Little Misha is an inquisitive and good-natured boy. He is very independent and likes to have his own responsibilities around the house. If Misha gets into good company, then there is no need to worry about him. Mykhailo is unsure of himself, so his parents need to encourage him more often. The owner of such a name is easily offended, but not spiteful. He is in poor health. Mykhailo's main shortcomings are that he gives up easily and never admits he is wrong. In love, he is very persistent and patient. Mykhailo can pursue his beloved for years. He does not know how to make compliments and give gifts. He proves his love not by word, but by deed. Tends to slight obesity and often has poor eyesight. The name suits Sagittarius, Capricorns, Aquarius. Not suitable for Pisces.

I only picked out the at least somehow interesting stuff, cause the article is long and you can read it yourself with the help of Google translator if you'd like. Also it has a section of female names the owner of the name is likely to get along well with, and it has no mention of Natalia (Talia), but Tamara was first on the list🥹

In Russian language Mischa is a way to say bear. In Ukrainian language Myscha is a way to say mouse. This is lowkey symbolic and I should use it in a fanfic at some point. Imagine Mischa telling everyone his name means bear and technically not lying, but in his mother tongue it actually is a tiny little animal. One of my headcanons is that his mother called him myshko (the way to say "little mouse" when reffering to someone directly. The subjective form is myshka, an even more affectionate/сute version is myshenya, myshenyatko)

Literally every noun in Ukrainian language has A TON of affectionate/сute versions, here are just some of such forms for Mischa: Mykhaylyk, Mykhaylychok, Mykhaylonko, Mykhaylochko, Mykhalyk, Mykhas, Mykhasyk, Mykhasko, Mykhasyo, Myshko, Mischenka. This isn't even a half, but some are quite impossible to translate. My fav versions are Mykhaylyk, Mykhasyk and Mykhalyk, they are also the most popular but basically all of them can be used if you wanna call him affectionately hehe

thank you for your attention folks🐭

[werewargs]

SunPest NextGen Lineup (kinda)

This is part of like.. my "official" nextgen, if you will. Not that I'm doing a whole lot with this "official" nextgen lol. Don't even know what a good name for it would be lol.

Link to my TH folder for this MLP NextGen

But yeah! Sunset and Tempest have two children together, but I had only come up with one at the time of drawing this. Their daughter's name is Solar Flare, partially named after her grandmother, Stellar Flare, who Sunset had been making amends with by the time Solar was born. They're trying to make peace.

There is. SO MUCH. to read below this cut, so you've been warned lmao.

I imagine Solar Flare would be quite gifted with magic, in large part thanks to Sunset's mentorship but also thanks to the raw magic power passed down to her from her mother Tempest. Solar is a bit of a powerhouse lol.

Other than that I have done very little brainstorming. But I hope you like these designs! :)

Edit: Including some info I'd come up with while discussing with a beloved mutual :))

Q: "This is such a wonderful pairing that would get so much out of being with one another, there's a level of guilt I think both of them will never quite be able to let go of but it will shrink the more love and acceptance they're shown. As the saying goes, shared joy is double joy but shared sorrow is sorrow halved <3

I saw you've said you've done very little brainstorming so I thought I'd ask some toughies hehe

How do you think their pasts would impact their parenting? Does Solar Flare ever have an ambitious streak of her own that worries her moms? How much would she know about her moms pasts?"

A: "OOGH THOSE ARE GREAT QUESTIONS!! Honestly I think the fact that she's such a powerhouse of a prodigy paired with who her parents are might make some people wary of her now that I think about it.

(This is so fucking long strap yourself in)

Honestly I feel like Sunset would definitely encourage her daughter to go crazy with what she's capable of doing, like she wants her to absolutely reach for the stars because she most definitely has the means to. Her mom was the former pupil of Celestia, after all, and Solar is likely seen as the next important name in the world of powerful unicorns once she reaches adolescence. Sunset may have applied a certain amount of… pressure on her daughter, but unlike with Solar's younger brother who cracked under that pressure (much like Sunburst), Solar THRIVED under it. She's a junkie for studying and tests and WINNING EVERYTHING lmao. The important part is that Solar had the raw talent to carry her past others who worked just as hard. Honestly she might not appreciate that fact enough, sort of believing that other people just need to get on the grind like her (including her brother).

Tempest is definitely more laid back when compared to Sunset. She's much more introverted and used to having strict limits placed on what she's allowed to do, so she's not always as much of a go-getter in the same sense, especially now that she's settled down. It's not at all that she Discourages ambition, she just doesn't place quite as much importance on success. She can help keep the family grounded at times and provide a nice balance to Sunset who can sometimes get swept up in the glory of her spectacular eldest child. The only thing is that Tempest is often very busy with work, which allows the family dynamic to swing a little far towards Sunset's (accidental) intensity (especially since Solar takes VERY well to Sunset's style and is kind of mean to her brother for not doing so).

With Aurum Dusk (the Sunpest boy, younger brother who I've been referring to), he became so afraid of failing, especially after not being as immediately talented as his sister, and disappointing his mothers, that he gave up on trying at all. This Devastates Sunset because she loves her boy and believes in him. It's just that the pep talks she tries to give him scare him. He usually takes better to the mellower approach from Tempest, but that's only when he's receptive at all, which isn't often in his somewhat-reclusive teenage years. Eventually things get better once he opens up to Sunburst, who helps explain things to the rest of his family since he can relate to Aurum's own struggles quite intimately."

Sunset is becoming her mother and hasn't realized it yet but when she does she's gonna be MORTIFIED lmao.

[sunandmhoon]

Love Songs

Genre: fluff Pairing: Jeonghan X Reader “He thought about your mind, how crazy it must be, how tiring it must be. Who’s on your mind right now? Who has your time? Who have you been seeing? Why couldn’t you just be his?” w/c: 1926 a/n: Hello~~ new story hehe!! Also it’s fluff this time wooohooo. Also idk if you’ve noticed but every svt story so far has been based off a song…hmmm i wonder why that is?? (also I didn't proofread this so I'm sorry for any inconsistencies) ps: pics are from pintrest ctto :) MASTERLIST; OTHER WORKS Jeonghan was never a person that falls in love easily. 

It’s not that he’s anti-romantic, or that he hates the concept of giving love or receiving love. In fact, on some days when the rain gets too loud, the room gets too cold and the sky gets too grey, he longs for a nice warm hug from a person that he loves. 

He’s had girlfriends before, but they always end in the same way. The same, ‘it’s not you, it’s me” argument. And it is true, he can never find himself infatuated with a person for more than a month. He still finds them attractive of course but he’s never been interested in them, their goals, their big dreams or even their small ones. 

That was until he met you. 

Meeting you was like an angel appeared at his door; like a gift from cupid to cure his lonely heart. A gift in the form of a new roommate. 

Seungkwan was staying in the flat with him before he moved out to his hometown, leaving behind his room and another part of the rent he had to pay. In his absence though, Seungkwan–ever the social butterfly– recommended the place to you, and although Jeonhan was wary at first, he definitely had to thank Seungkwan now. 

When he first met you he felt as though his house was graced by a higher being. The sun flooded into the room in golden rays, shining around you, creating a halo above your head. And though he was the known heartbreaker around town, he felt his palms go sweaty and his ears turn hot. And when you spoke, he felt he got worse. Your voice sounded just like it was dipped in honey; smooth and sweet. He could listen to it forever. Your expressions were kind and gentle, you were the type of person that could lure anyone into your charm like a siren in the sea. 

He was attracted to you, so so attracted to you, but he brushed it off. It was probably just that, Attraction, nothing more. 

As the days went by you two grew closer. First it was catching each other in the kitchen at 3am for a midnight snack. From then on you started talking to each other more. You find out that he’s been living in the flat for five years, he finds out that you just moved to the city. He’s taken you around the area to get you familiar with your surroundings, you’ve cooked him dinner in exchange (and because he only eats ramen in the house). He’s introduced you to his friends, you’ve introduced him to your family.

You even go to him when you need to rant. School’s being annoying? Go to Jeonghan, Your parents are being annoying? Go to Jeonghan, the neighbour that for some reason finds the need to be up at 4am every single morning watching their soap opera at full volume with their door open is being annoying? Go to Jeonghan. Just like the new flat’s been your physical home, Jeonghan has been your emotional home. 

You tell him everything, and even though he loves it, he loves that he could be a person you can come to–can talk to and rant to about your hardships, feelings, accomplishments, he somehow hates it when you come to him for advice on love. 

“How do I get a boyfriend, Han?”, “Why don’t guys like me?” to “Han, I’ve been talking to this guy”, “what do you think of him?” to the dreaded, “He asked me out on a date!”, “How do I look?” he’s been there through it all. And he won't admit it–he can’t admit that he likes you, he can’t admit that he hates when you tell him not to wait up for you because you’ll be at Woozi’s for the night. He can’t admit that it bothers him that you come home, greet him and go to your room. He can’t admit that he’s lonely again, and that he misses when you would talk to him late at night about your dreams, inspirations, aspirations, goals or even just your shopping list. 

And most of all, he hates that you have him listening to love songs. He never used to listen to love songs on purpose, let alone with someone in mind. Love songs have plagued his playlists, and he dreads the day that spotify wraps up his year into one big lovefest. You were sea, sunshine, star and moon; you were his cocoa butter kisses; you were what comes up in his mind when he listens to Daniel Caesar, Frank Ocean and even Drake. You were his in his mind, his playlist, his heart but not his in real life. 

He started doing his work in the living room just to see your face, to see you in the kitchen, on the couch or even leaving for school or work or to your boyfriend’s house, because the longer you were with Woozi, the shorter you were in the house. 

That was until one day when he came home from work. The world seemed to mirror the same sad mood he’s been in for the past month; heavy rain, grey skies, cold air. It was the kind of weather that made him feel even more lonelier than he already was. He was just about to pass the living room to go to his room when he noticed you asleep on the sofa. 

You looked so peaceful that he didn’t want to move, afraid that even the smallest step could wake you up from your slumber. He stood there for what felt like hours but were only a couple of seconds when he was suddenly snapped back to reality with a cold rush of air down his spine. The room was getting colder, he noticed, and he saw you rustling around the couch–no doubt affected by the coolness too.

He saw that your shoulder was exposed to the cool air and quickly but quietly rushed to get a blanket. He placed the blanket over your body, gently tucking the ends to your sides, effectively blocking any coldness from reaching your skin. He froze as you moved, thinking you had woken up, but sighed as he saw you snuggling into the warm comfort of the blanket, continuing your peaceful nap. 

He cleaned the area around you, the tissues, empty soda cans, empty chips. You must’ve eaten yourself into a food coma, he thought, smiling at the thought of your well fed self falling into a deep sleep. However his smile dropped as your phone lights up. Rows and rows of notifications piled up on your lockscreen, all from your boyfriend begging you to ‘take him back’, ‘forgive him’, ‘trust him to do better’.  And then it made sense to him. The food, the tissues, your exhaustion.

Once he finished cleaning up, he just couldn’t find himself to leave you in the living room all alone. You must have been sad, angry, upset, tired and vulnerable right now, and he would hate himself if he knew he was leaving you in such a state. 

He also couldn’t get over the last notification he saw from your phone–he knows that it wasn’t the best thing to go scroll your notifications, but it was there and he couldn’t help it (pls forgive him)-- ‘I can be better than him’. 

Him? 

Is there someone new?

He sat on the ottoman, beside where your head was laying on the pillow and watched as you breathed. Your chest would rise and fall in steady patterns, showing that you’ve fallen into a deep sleep. Your eyelashes were feathered along your eye, and he couldn’t help but be charmed by it. Him, charmed by the simple sight of eyelashes? He couldn’t believe how much he changed, how much you changed him. Your lips were slightly parted, a pale pink and full. He wondered how it would feel against his own, would they be soft? By the looks of it, he thinks it would. 

You looked so peaceful and angelic and he couldn’t help but think about how much you’re going through right now. He thought about your mind, how crazy it must be, how tiring it must be. Who’s on your mind right now? Who has your time? Who have you been seeing? Why couldn’t you just be his? 

He knows that you had a boyfriend but still, despite that, why did you stop talking to him as much? You used to be texting him all the time, checking on him all the time, staying up with him all the time. But recently, your interactions were shorter than two sentences. Was it your boyfriend? Was it you? Was it him?

“If you let me,” he whispered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear gently, “we could paint a perfect picture, we could even last forever.” he sighed as he feels how strong he loves you–it scares him, he’s never felt this way with anyone before. “I’ll even let you wear my sweaters, I know how you get cold so easily,” he said as his eyes traced your face, from your hairline down to your eyebrows to your eyes, to your nose to your lips. He smiled at how perfect you were. “I’m so horribly down for you, Y/N,” he said, “for the worse or the better,” he added. 

“To be honest, I hate it,” he said, surprising himself with the sudden confession, “I hate how much I feel for you because It’s so strong that it’s hurting me. But I don’t care, I will keep sticking to you, Y/n,” he breathed in, “Because I love you.”

And although you were sound asleep, he still felt as if the weight of the world has left his shoulders. The burden of keeping it trapped within his heart has finally disappeared, and even though he knew that this confession was done in vain as he knew that pouring his heart out doesn’t mean you have to reciprocate it, he still felt happy that it’s out there. 

Maybe you were asleep, but your heart was listening. 

He noticed how the sun had disappeared and the clock was moving into the double digits. He knew that your back was going to be painful if you slept there overnight, so he took you in his arms, the blanket wrapped tightly around you still; like a burrito, and carried you over to your room. There he tucked you in properly, propping your head gently a top your soft pillows, laying the comforter over your, keeping the sides snug. Before he turned off the side lamp, his self control had left his body with his confession as he bent down placing a gentle peck on your forehead. When he felt that everything was done, windows checked, you tucked in, lamp turned off, he headed out the door. 

“Jeonghan,” you called softly, your voice still groggy from your nap. He froze by the doorframe, turning to you. 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you too,” you told him, a soft smile growing on your face before you turned over and fell back to sleep. 

No amount of self control could stop the smile that was blooming on his face, his mind was fuzzy, his heart was racing. He watched you for a little bit more, the same love-struck smile on his face to see if you were still sleeping.

“Sweet dreams, love,” he whispered before leaving.

He needs to give Seungkwan a gift basket. 

-fin. 

Like, comment and reblog pls :)

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

the most beautiful time of the year

synopsis: the happiest season of all.

genre: fluff

characters: albedo x gn! reader, klee cameo (platonic)

warnings: reader referred to in 2nd pov, klee pov for first half, then switches to albedo pov, cheek kiss

a/n: hehe hi @xcyphoz0a!! so sorry for the wait, but surprise! i'm your secret santa for @astronetwrk’s secret santa event >:) i hope you like this gift<3 merry christmas! likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2023 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

masterlist

there were three reasons why klee loved having you as her babysitter.

one: you didn’t punish her with ‘solitary confinement’ when she accidentally splattered paint on the walls, much unlike big brother albedo’s coworker— miss jean.

two: you were pretty and great fun to play with. 

three: having you over meant big brother albedo was happy! that pink hue on his cheeks must mean he loves you, right? if big brother was happy, then klee was even happier! now, if only you could come over more often so that she could avoid miss jean big brother could come out of his room more often instead of staying in there with his experiments…

klee knew there were also three reasons why albedo loved having you help babysit her.

one: you knew exactly how to calm her down and keep her occupied with activities that were… less destructive than what she normally endeavoured to do.

two: klee loved having you over.

three: it gave him opportunities to sit at one side and fill up his sketchbook with more drawings (featuring you). though he’d vehemently deny it ever happened if you asked. weird.

albedo watches from afar as you run after a really excited klee– well, who wouldn’t? it was a beautiful day, with yet another year nearing its end, the sun was out, and the snow on the cold ground had thickened just enough, and– 

“no, klee, don’t eat the snow!” his eyes zeros in on a frantic you holding klee’s wrist, fretting like a worried parent, your cries of “it’s dirty, you don’t know what’s been on it, don’t pick it up off the ground!” going unheard under bubbly peals of laughter. 

a fond smile grows on his face. what a sight to behold. a page of his sketchbook is filled.

he observes as you chase after klee armed with a snowball, while she runs to take cover behind the little snowman you both made not too long ago, wild shouts of merriment filling the air. his pencil moves smoothly on the new page of his sketchbook. it would’ve been a shame if he were unable to capture this lovely scene before him.

he looks over at your cold, flushed faces and noses red from the biting cold, glee all over your face as you bend, hands on knees, panting out a “i think i need a break,” before collapsing onto the snow spreadeagled. klee, concerned for your health, comes running over, only to be dragged down onto the ground with a surprise tickle attack from you– it soon becomes a lesson on how to make the perfect snow angel. an angelic scene, if he said so himself. he flips to a new page on his sketchbook.

when you both had fully exhausted yourselves, trudging back up to the comfort of the house, klee stops and points at something over his head. confused, he looks up– what should have been a glaucous blue bauble had somehow been replaced by an all-too-familiar looking plant. 

you stop right in front of him just as he feels his heart stop, your lips parting– would words he’s been yearning so long for come out of your mouth? he feels a tingle on the back of his neck— a familiar sensation, no doubt— was it nerves? was it your hand?

nope, none of that.

he shivers as you mash a snowball (previously hidden in the palm of your hand) into the back of his neck, your lips upturned in a cheeky grin— but before he can react, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

he doesn’t hear the badly-stifled giggles from klee, who peeked out from behind a wall with a devious grin, nor does he feel his sketchbook slipping from his hand.

albedo thinks he might be in love.

taglist: @yinyinggie @lynyluvr @kazemiya @meidnightrain (send ask to be added to taglist!)

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[generic-enthusiast]

Been seeing a lot of Christmas themed headcanons and not nearly enough Hanukkah headcanons, so...

Headcanons for what menorah each member of the gang would have

Darry’s is football themed because of course it is (just had the most fantastic fic idea about this... let's see if I can finish it for Hanukkah). I have one myself with a bunch of different sport players with the ball of their sport in front of them and that's where you put the candle, so this is basically the same only with just football players. They're all from the same team and have their number behind them.

When Soda got his it was just a bit after losing Mickey Mouse so it was horse-themed. This one was home-made bc they couldn't find one with horses on it. It has nine horses with a nut on their head for the candle (and also some holes in their heads bc there's no way a nut can hold a candle atop a play horse's head)

Ponyboy's was a bit harder to think of because he didn't have such a clear-cut obsession with anything. He got it for his bar mitzvah when he was sort of getting more into religion because the Curitses aren't all that religious, but were fine when he wanted to be more religious, so he got one that looks sort of like this:

Only the swirly things spelled out "khai" or however it's romanised in English that means "life" in Hebrew (in the original letters ofc).

He likes it because it makes him feel grown up despite being the baby of the family

Now I don't personally hc the rest of the gang as Jewish but you better believe they're getting a menorah anyway

Steve. Steve my beloved. He made his own menorah to match Soda's when Mr and Mrs Curtis gave it to him, only instead of horses he used cars. He had enough toy cars (that he didn’t play with anymore at the grown age of thirteen, of course) so he found a piece of wood somewhere and glued them to it and then asked Mr and Mrs Curtis for some nuts to use as candle holders.

The shema was either a toy truck or like three cars piled up on each other

Johnny doesn’t have his own because he didn’t really want one, he felt kinda uncomfortable, like he was intruding on something, so he just lights Ponyboy’s with him (they grab the shema together and touch hands hehe)

So for Two-Bit I looked up weirdest menorahs and found one that is absolutely perfect

But I don't think it would be neither cheap nor easy to steal, so HEAR ME OUT Jewish Marcia who has this bc her parents let her buy her own and Two-Bit absolutely falls in love with her it when he sees it when he came over for Hanukkah this is canon trust me guys I'm friends with his sister

As for Two-Bit's own menorah, I think it'd just be a random simple menorah he swiped from the first place he saw that was selling them.

Now all that's left is Dally.

Once, Mrs Curtis mentioned that her family has like... heirloom menorahs. But since she has issues with her family, she never got them, they went to her sibling. She described it a bit and he went "huh" and then showed up a couple weeks later having stolen one that matched her description almost perfectly. She accepted the gift (begrudgingly) but it was still the menorah Dally lit every Hanukkah so in a way it was his

(The five remaining members of the gang lit his menorah together the Hanukkah right after canon. If Ponyboy closed his eyes he could imagine it was Johnny, lighting the menorah with him like he'd been doing for years.)

[ticklygiggles]

Miya&Mia's 12 days of Tickles Day 9: Warm

Karlyle Frost x Ash Jones

A/N: don't even look at me in the worse fjdjfnfn

Karlyle had celebrated Christmas with his family many times... along with a bunch of other families, for as long as he could remember. The trees in the huge halls stretched overhead, filled with beautiful decorations and white lights. There were gifts underneath all of them, but he learned over time that they were simply decorations; what could rich people gift if they already had it all?

He rarely looked at his parents during those elegant Christmas parties and he didn't remember opening another gift except for the ones his brother gave him once they were older. 

For Karlyle, Christmas was a time that meant more work and socializing with potential partners during those terribly boring and tiring holidays… So now, decorating his own little tree in his own living room in his own house with his own partner... he just couldn't describe the feeling that was spreading through his chest.

His cheeks were flushed and he kept sneaking glances at Ash as he opened the box of new spheres he had bought. Ash had taken care of all the decorations: the spheres and extra ornaments, the lights, the star, even the wrapping paper. Karlyle had only been in charge of getting the pine tree, a leafy pine that emanated that exquisite aroma that filled every corner of the house. 

Besides his blushing cheeks, he also felt something wrapping around his heart, it was a slightly uncomfortable feeling, but pleasant at the same time. Millions of butterflies fluttered in his stomach and he even patted it a little as if trying to calm them down. 

“Do you feel sick?” Ash asked with such a concerned expression that simply make Karlyle melt. 

He shook his head, “I’m just a little hungry,” he lied, placing a red sphere in the highest spot he could reach. 

Ash chuckled, gently clawing at Karlyle’s tummy, making him jump and giggle. “Let's just quickly finish this up and we can have dinner, sounds good? Also, did that tickle?” Ash poked the middle of his stomach and Karlyle jumped again, gasping. 

“A-Ash,” Karlyle squealed softly, letting out another soft giggle when Ash grabbed his waist and squeezed him softly. “S-Stohohop that!” 

“I still can't believe you're so ticklish, Karlyle,” Ash said tenderly, his other hand grabbing Karlyle’s other side and squeezed again. 

Karlyle broke into sweet giggles as he tried to push Ash's hands away. He actually couldn't believe it either. He only knew he was ticklish until his sneaky lover was being playful in bed. Karlyle still remembered that day clearly, and it wasn't like he could forget it for Ash would tickle him on a daily basis. 

Some days more intensely than others, but he would always come up with an excuse to tickle Karlyle silly. 

“Ahahahash, plehehease!” Karlyle tried to cover his mouth with one of his hands as the other gently pushed at Ash's shoulder, only leaving his ribs exposed for Ash's sneaky fingers. “AHAHA! N-Nohoho! Plehehease, n-nohohot thehere!” 

Ash giggled along with him, fingers digging into Karlyle’s ribs just the way it made Karlyle laugh almost hysterically. Karlyle, uselessly wrapped his arms around his ribcage and pressed himself into Ash. 

“Hehe, do you want me to hug you? I can't right now because I'm tickling you, Lyle~” 

Karlyle laughed against Ash's neck, feeling that sensation from earlier intensifying inside his chest, making his heart flutter. Was he going to die? 

“Ahahash, ack!”

“Careful!” 

Karlyle took a step back, not noticing that the couch was right there. The back of his knee touched the edge and he fell back, dragging Ash down with him. 

“Karlyle! Are you alri-hihihight?! Wahahahait!” 

Taking advantage of the fact that Ash was distracted, Karlyle's hands found their way under Ash's arms and his fingers curled against his armpits, causing Ash to collapse onto him, laughing. 

That sweet, yet awkward sensation filled him again and as Ash retaliated by tickling Karlyle's ribs again, he finally understood what it was. 

Warmth. Living with Ash, kissing Ash, making love with Ash, celebrating Christmas, tickling each other– everything with Ash made him feel warm, happy and loved. 

“FIHIHIHINE! Fihihihine, Lyle! Let's ehehehat! Let's ea- AHAHAHA!” 

Oh, he was such a lucky man.

[aclowntiny]

Hiii, can you do svt meeting your parents for the first time?

Hiiiiiiiii!!!! My first request, I'm so excited 😁 I so can friend!!!

(To keep it inclusive, I am putting a bit for *if* there is any language barrier with your parents, but if there wouldn't be, then feel free to ignore that hehe 😌 enjoy queens, kings, all my little monarch butterflies 🥰🦋)

Seventeen Meeting Your Parents For the First Time (Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: some slight language is all!

S.Coups

♡ He's simultaneously nervous & excited, AKA get ready to see Seungcheol practically bursting at the seams before you walk into your house. You, for your part, remind him that he's a great guy anyone's parents would love & to think of all the fun you two already had in your hometown that day.

♡ He immediately introduces himself so politely, saying it's an honor to meet your parents and you smile, any vestigial worries you had fading away.

♡ If your he and parents don't speak the same language fluently, he may rely on you a little bit to help bridge the gaps, but he really wants to do his best, so he tries to say anything he can himself and make eye contact with your parents. Will absolutely try his darndest to compliment their house, what they feed him, everything!

♡ Seungcheol is so caring and used to managing lots of people, so he immediately jumps in with offers to help or even serve your parents. They thank him, but insist he sit down because he's a guest. Neither you nor your boyfriend miss the glance they shoot you, one that says seems like a keeper to me.

♡ My gosh, we all know he's a family man too, so when they ask him about what he wants in life, if he wants to get married or *hint hint* would you guys give them grandchildren, and he says yes, he'd love that, hopefully three sons and a daughter if he can get (y/n) on board, well shoot, they'll practically help him pick out rings then and there!

♡ He sighs in relief as you guys leave, a big smile on his face. "That went well!" You exclaim, taking his hands in excitement. "I told you!" "You're right, I knew to trust you~" "I think my parents will want to see a lot more of you," you joke. "I don't have a problem with that," Seungcheol responds. What a man!

Jeonghan

♡ Oh you already know this man is going to WIN YOUR PARENTS OVER. He's pretty ready TBH. Honestly, while his heart is beating faster, it makes him so happy to be meeting your parents, that almost overrides the nerves (almost). You're so sure they'll love him, it fills his heart, too.

♡ He comes with a gift for your parents, this generous guy! He brings flowers for your mom and a drink you tell him your dad will like, which they happily accept.

♡ If there's a language barrier, he does his best to convey how thankful he is to them to be visiting the home of your family and how well they raised you. If you have to say it for him, he greatly appreciates how flustered you look repeating his words, barely resisting the urge to pinch your cheeks in front of your mom and dad.

♡ He helps you set the table, meeting your eyes as you lay everything out with a deep gaze because this all feels so domestic and as a loving homebody, it's perfect. Where you guys are almost fades away in his mind until he hears your mother thank him, shooting back up and away from you to look at her once more.

♡ Goodness me this man is an intent listener. He truly enjoys hearing the stories your parents tell and has very clear answers to their questions. He knows what he likes to do and is mature enough to answer with confidence that he wants a committed relationship, a future with their child if you want that, too- which you of course agree you do. He also delights your parents by answering the grandkid question, getting a bit flustered but happily telling them if you were down, he loves the idea of becoming a father of two personally.

♡ They can see as you sit together how much love Jeonghan looks at you with. It just totally fills up his eyes and the way he turns to you. So much so that when you go over to where the dishes are being washed, your father having been chatting with the two of you, she tells you she's never seen someone so loving with you. When you tell your boyfriend how he touched your mom's heart, he almost tears up, but instead settles for just about yanking you into the house and cuddling the heck out of you. He also thanks you for the experience, it was very sweet even if there were awkward moments at first.

Joshua

♡ "Meeting the parents is always the hardest part!" Joshua exclaims, though his tone sounds half-joking, not despairing. You chuckle at him, leaning a bit closer. "Be for real, Joshua, have you ever had problems with people's parents?" "No," he admits, "they usually seem to like me." "Then don't be worried," you tease him.

♡ Joshua knows a little bit of a handful of languages, so while the chances of a big barrier are sort of small, if it's there he'll probably ask you how to say all the most basic and polite things so he can properly let your parents know he's grateful to them for opening their home to him.

♡ And that's exactly what he does, says thank you before introducing himself, and right away you see your dad is pleased you're in the hands of a polite young man. He says their house is pretty, too, which your mom never forgets ever.

♡ When it's time to eat, Joshua pulls out your chair for you, leading you to flash a victorious grin to your mother, who looks down and chuckles, giving an amused little head shake. You're so proud of this one.

♡ Eloquent and calm of a speaker as he is, Joshua doesn't seem nervous as he gives explanations to what his parents want to know and describes how he enjoys playing the guitar, some of his favorite experiences he's had with you, like the time he took you skating, and even his favorite parts of living in LA and how it compares to Seoul. The whole time, though, one of his hands has reached for yours under the table and is gently holding it like you're his little anchor.

♡ "Why couldn't you have done this the first time?" Your parents joke to you, a message you surreptitiously relay to Joshua. "Your streak remains intact," you tell him. "So I'm a keeper?" He asks, eyes shining at you like you were a trophy he'd won. "I knew that without them," you shoot back, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips, "but now my parents know it too."

Jun

♡ Jun's nervous, but also finds meeting the parents super endearing, so he has some extra energy buzzing as you get ready. He can't wait to see if you look like your parents up close and personal and if their mannerisms are like yours. People have senses of how they are similar to their parents, yet they can never see it all. The way you guys move, the faces you make, all of those are things Jun can't wait to see.

♡ If he has any trouble communicating with your parents, he'll probably get inquisitive, like asking them what they call things or checking with you to make sure what he says is right. May accidentally slip up and call something by its Chinese name in a moment of confusion, but everyone has a good laugh, even Junhui itself.

♡ He tells your parents he can see where you got your good looks from :)))

♡ They ask him questions about his hobbies and work and stuff, so he ends up showing your parents some really impressive dance moves, getting shy when he sees the surprise on their faces, but it gives him some energy. Soon, he's doing impressions of other Seventeen members, giving a colorful picture of his bandmates that makes them laugh.

♡ Something they enjoy about Jun even more is the stories he tells about his little brother. They can tell he's caring and could be a family man: someone they could see themselves trusting with their child. He loves his mother, too, which is clear in the adoring way he talks about her. Definitely a few son-in-law points for Jun lol

♡ You can't help but tease him after you get back in the car. "Oh, you've done it now." Jun's face falls. "Did I make a mistake? Was someone upset?" "No, you love your mom so much my mom's really going to want you as her son now!" "O-oh." Jun blushes, but he can't stop smiling and showing you affection all night, whether it's holding your hand in the car or giving you a hug as you walk.

Hoshi

♡ Mr. Kwon Soonyoung wants THE FULL CRASH COURSE. He'll want to know things your parents like, any pet peeves they have so he can avoid doing them, this man will be studying like it's final exam week! You laugh after a while at all the effort he's putting in considering how to bring up your dad's favorite sport or the movies you guys love to watch. "Don't worry, you're a total people person, Soonyoung. And don't try to pull the introvert card on me, that's different!"

♡ A language barrier would put a slight damper on everything just because all his little tips and pointers he gave himself would be that much harder to bring up, but his desire to connect with people and energy shine through and through no matter what! He probably finds an excuse to give your parents a dance show hehe

♡ He takes such good care of you, all but hovering over you which your parents think is cute. The whole meal you guys share, he's making sure you're getting enough and asking what your favorite is both to make sure you get it and to try a bit himself :)

♡ When talking, Soonyoung stutters a fair bit, but manages to slip in a few of the mentions he wanted, making a reference that lights your parents' faces up with joy and yours with pride. Points scored, tiger!

♡ After dinner you guys start playing a game at your boyfriend's suggestion; he wants to get some of his energy out, his leg having been bouncing all dinner. Plus, if your parents ask him a ton of questions he might pass out. Games are more fun! He suggests your favorite game because he knows how much you like it, giving you a knowing look that your parents catch and smile at.

♡ The game seemed to be a good call of an icebreaker, you and Soonyoung strolling out of your parents' in high spirits. You're holding onto the tall frame of your boyfriend, who's waving brightly and enthusiastically with that adorable grin you loved so much. "Looks like you had a good time." "Yeah, but did they?" "My mom texted me and called you cute, so I think you won some points." Soonyoung leaps in the air, then grabs you and kisses you joyously, giving a whoop. "Your studies paid off," you giggle.

Wonwoo

♡ Wonwoo is naturally a more reserved person, so he worries that it's hard to grab the spotlight in social situations, but you reassure him. "Are you kidding? Think of all the boisterous people parents meet when their kids are young. I'm sure my parents will be refreshed by you- you're smart, reasonable, kind..." "Yeah, that's true, I am huh?" You just laugh, head falling onto his shoulder.

♡ Just as you said, you have an intelligent boyfriend, so even if he isn't able to fluently speak to your parents, he did some research and can pick up things to say to them pretty quickly, especially if you do any on-the-go translations.

♡ Your parents ask him some questions, naturally, like what Wonwoo enjoys doing. Their eyebrows raise at first when he says he likes to play games, but when he starts talking about reading, they look pleased.

♡ Like duh they are, this guy actually takes care of himself and manage living on his own like an adult and has an international driver's license and can handle interacting with them almost like a peer??? King.

♡ He makes an offhand comment during dinner to reassure you about something and that's when he really sees your parents light up because this man knows and understands you deeply- it's a subtle thing about you that others haven't picked up on or worked with and there he was getting it like it was nothing.

♡ "I think they're happy with you," you commented when the evening was over. "You think so?" "Yeah, they cut the questions and got into deeper stuff pretty fast. I could tell they respected you. My guess is they call me tonight or tomorrow and tell me they're glad I chose you." "Well, I have to say I agree with them there, too," Wonwoo tells you with a smile and a quick hug.

Woozi

♡ "What if they don't like me?" Jihoon asks, shooting you a nervous glance. You just laugh. "Jihoon, everyone likes you. Have you seen any of your members lately?" "Yeah, I guess they do, but I'm not dating any of their kids. They don't even have-" Resting a hand on your shoulder, you give him one more firm reassurance. "Trust me, don't try or anything. Just be yourself and get to know them."

♡ If Jihoon and your parents speak different languages, he may rely on you a little bit, but the last way he wants to come across is too dependent on you, so he may push himself further out of his comfort zone than he usually would.

♡ He's extremely polite, almost to the point of being formal, so you take the reins of the conversation at first to loosen him up, telling him things about your parents that he can bond with them over or even straight-up hyping him up to them.

♡ Of course, you inevitably bring up music, enjoying the smile that breaks across Jihoon's face, shyly at first at the praise and spotlight, but soon he relaxes, passion flooding into him as he forgets himself just a little. Your parents have their own styles of music and favorite artists, so of course they want to know if your boyfriend ever listens to them. They're impressed to learn how many songs he really writes, that his group has a producer within it, not just singing whatever they're given. Your heart swells with pride as Jihoon gets more in his element.

♡ Your dad and him get chatting, just sort of going down a rabbit hole, but it makes you laugh because they sort of have similar temperaments??? They just sort of shoot the breeze after a while, you guys chilling after you ate with anything you wanted to drink, sitting on the couches.

♡ Jihoon still wasn't sure as you guys left what your parents were thinking. "You did fine," you told him, "they were relaxed, which is a good thing. They felt at ease." "You could tell?" "Oh, yeah, they weren't being fake at all. They stopped feeling weird when you did!" "Well, that was thanks to you." "And you! Believe in yourself, darn it!" Jihoon just laughed, shaking his head. "That's why I love you."

DK

♡ "I want them to love me! (y/n), how do I get them to love me?" Shaking your head, you smile. "Just be yourself, Seokmin, that's all you had to do to get me to love you."

♡ All Seokmin's nerves manifest in the form of giddiness and awkward humor, so you try to still him as he cracks semi-self-deprecating jokes in the car by holding his hand and telling him to trust you, that you wouldn't have taken him home if you thought it would go badly: heck, most people wouldn't even stay with their partner if they thought it would go so bad at home!

♡ With the possibility of your parents speaking a different language, he'll definitely be extra nervous, but try to say as much as possible. He tries to work in as many jokes as he can and be extra expressive in other ways to get his point across, which is pretty much how he is naturally anyway. No matter if your parents and him speak the same language or not, they'll be laughing a lot together!

♡ One thing you can tell your parents appreciate about Seokmin besides his natural joy and humor is that he's attentive to you; he serves you once your meal is ready, gets you your drink, and makes sure you're situated before lifting a finger for himself. Your parents are visibly pleased by the way he values you.

♡ A member of the 'hey, let's play a game :)' squad because what better way to lighten the mood and take pressure off of everyone talking and performing, right? Will absolutely let your parents pick what game, though, even if he's never played it. "What's parcheesi? ...I mean, yes, that sounds great!"

♡ He pretends to faint when you leave, and as you laugh and play along, "picking him back up", you ask him how he honestly felt. "I had a good time. Do you think they did, too?" "Well, they laughed a lot. I think your story about Hosh at the pizza place really got them hooked. I told you, remember? I was confident your lovable ways wouldn't fail." At that, your boyfriend blushes. "If it wasn't for you, I totally would have spilled your drink everywhere and probably wouldn't have shaken your dad's hand." "Yeah, but they didn't see either of those things, so you're good."

Mingyu

♡ Get ready for charming guy! Mingyu isn't worried about meeting your parents. Well, there's a small, little teensy tiny part of him that worries he'll do something embarrassing, but he's confident in himself.

♡ If you didn't know your boyfriend so well, you'd be surprised at how boldly he just goes up to your parents and greets them, like wow, so... professional???

♡ Mingyu views a potential language barrier as a personal challenge, something he wants to put work in to overcome. That's probably one of the first things he'll say, in fact: that he wants to work on being able to speak well to your parents for everyone's sake.

♡ From that fear of embarrassment, the closest thing he does to anything like that is just a funny misspeak, and though he blushes everyone laughs so it's really not even all that!

♡ The thing he impresses your parents with besides being outgoing and respectful in his greetings is that Mingyu can cook! As you guys eat dinner, it's something he can bond with your parents over and gain an extra few points of mother's approval with because who doesn't want their kid to score a man who knows his way around a kitchen? Plus your mom mouths to you when he's not looking that he's handsome, lol.

♡ Mingyu gets a huge grin on his face the moment you leave. All you can do is smile and roll your eyes. "They liked me, didn't they?" "Well, if you could tell, of course I could! We both knew they would. You're the most outgoing and mature person I've ever brought home!" "And I cook, too~ What a keeper I am~" You smack his shoulder, but also kiss his cheek because what can you say, he's right? You wouldn't have brought Mingyu home otherwise.

The8

♡ Minghao doesn't usually care what people think, like he is who he is and he's secure in that, but hey, no one wants their partner's parents to hate them you know? 🤷🏻‍♀️ he doesn't make some grand plan or worry about establishing a pretense, but just hopes they can see how much he loves their child, too.

♡ If there's a language barrier between them, Minghao puts his all into listening and being intentional with how he interacts with your parents, but he also appreciates that you don't leave him alone with them forever if that's the case, keeping the line of communication open.

♡ He gets kind of shy and smiley because you start hyping him up, reminding your parents what an amazing artist and all around talented man he is, asking if he would show them pictures of things he's made.

♡ Hope your parents have pets, because this man will absolutely melt everyone's hearts with how sweetly he interacts with them, holding them so gently if they let him and giggling at anything adorable they do!

♡ Your boyfriend also has the sweetest view of the future, like the way he talks about his own parents and how their love story really inspires how he wants to live, and of course your own parents love that. He is able to come across as the kind, mature person he is, and no parents can be mad about that!

♡ He also manages to make them laugh with a few choice impressions of the other Seventeen members, and when you leave you congratulate him on how well he did, that you could see how your parents relaxed and enjoyed spending time with him. "I think they're really sure now I'm in good hands. But warning: they'll probably try inviting you around whenever they can!" "That's alright with me. I want to get close to the people who raised you into who you are." How did you get so lucky???

Seungkwan

♡ Seungkwan looks like he wants to throw up on the way to your parents' home. Volunteering to drive was clearly a good call. "Sweetheart, you're amazing with people, what are you so worried about?" You chuckle, grabbing one of the hands he has folded in his lap. "Well, I've heard stories about your mom, and-" "My mom didn't like my last boyfriend because he was a dick, ok? He barely would talk to her. You're going to be leagues better." "That's true, I still can't believe how he treated you," Seungkwan comments, gripping your hand now that he's successfully distracted, "If I ever saw him, I'd-" "Yeah, yeah, save that, my mom'll love that, she still hates him."

♡ If there's any language barriers with your parents, Seungkwan is an amazing boyfriend to have. Even though he's nervous, he immediately smiles and does his best to communicate with them. He'll try using any amount of your parents' language he knows and isn't afraid to repeat things they say to him to learn. He even makes jokes about his own mistakes or just starts talking in gibberish when he's confused, so that breaks tension and lightens the mood too!

♡ His usually affectionate ways stiffen and fade, though, at least at first, because he doesn't know how his parents will react if he touches you, even though he prefers innocent affection like holding your hands in his, putting his arm around you, or giving you a hug from behind. He just doesn't want them to beat his ass lol

♡ Just as you called, Seungkwan is such a naturally outgoing and funny person, he has your parents laughing with the way he tells stories and listens to them intently too, smiling and interjecting little things like "oh really?" and "wow!" so they know he's really giving listening his all.

♡ The moment you guys finish dinner, he starts cleaning up without any discussion, and though they make him sit back down, you and Seungkwan can both tell how much your parents appreciate it. He tries to still make things easier like collecting and stacking dishes he can reach from the table, which makes your mom especially smile.

♡ The one time you bring up your ex in talking about somewhere you went with him, Seungkwan manages to throw in a small shade, his expression contorting hilariously as he does it, which your mom does in fact love. They have a mini shade session and that's how you know Seungkwan is in. You make sure to tell him that when you guys leave. "See? I told you, you're amazing, my parents are open-minded anyway, there was no way it would go badly! They'll probably want to talk to you now whenever we call." "That's alright with me, your parents are fun to be around. I see where you get it from," he comments, wrapping his arm around your shoulders now that your parents can't see.

Vernon

♡ He's wide-eyed the whole drive, lowkey looking like he's on another astral plane. "You ok?" "Yeah, I just...can't believe this is happening. It's kinda crazy, I've heard stories about your parents, but now I'm going to really see them." "They'll like you," you tell him, a joking smile crossing your face as you elbow him, "they'll be happy I'm finally with someone chill."

♡ If your parents have pets, Vernon totally becomes immediate besties with them, which endears your parents to your boyfriend that much more. He's quiet and gentle with them, and showing a respect for life is a good sign in their eyes.

♡ He'll know already if there's any potential of a language barrier. It intimidates him, especially since he's already a pretty quiet person, so he may do a lot of talking through you, but everything he says is sincere. Probably tries to make a joke to make up for it.

♡ Vernon is one of the more inquisitive ones, asking your parents questions, too. Not interrogating them like they'll want to do to him lol, but he wants to know what they enjoy, how long they've lived where they lived, just little things like that to help him understand them. I mean hey, they're strangers too, you know?

♡ You're different around your parents. More relaxed. You lived with these people for how many years, after all? Vernon smiles, feeling like he's truly seeing you in your element now that you're home. You crack some super goofy running joke you have with your family that has him in stitches, and it finally helps him shake off some stiffness and formality. They may be your parents, but they're also people, you know?

♡ He gathers info about your parent's humor and interest, probably finding a meme or something he read that breaks the ice a little more so he can relate to them. They love it if he already knows anything about their interests. When you and Vernon finally take off, he tells your parents how nice it was to meet them and thanks them for having him. You tell him as you guys pull away that he did good. "You were so easy, they'll love you for that. No shmoozing or anything. I can tell they had fun." "Well," Vernon smiles, "I did too."

Dino

♡ This man right here??? Is absolutely DETERMINED to make your parents love him, whatever that takes. You'll probably have to remind him that trying too hard and showing off will have the opposite effect. "Trust me, my first boyfriend was like that. It didn't work," you told him with a laugh.

♡ Chan wants to overcome any potential language barriers, so he'll probably keep things concise but as charming as possible, like interjecting small jokes and compliments when he can just to make your parents smile and show he's making an effort.

♡ When they start asking him about goals and passions, that's when he really lights up. In his mind, that's his time to shine. He tells them that he's still learning, but working to improve himself and grow every day, explaining that performing is his life, but he never wants that to come at the expense of neglecting their kid either! He wants to take care of you! If you have to translate this, my gosh he'll have you getting shy and blushing, trying to keep down his own satisfied smile at this because he doesn't want to seem cocky.

♡ He'll probably be another one to suggest playing a game with your parents to help break the ice, making everyone comfortable and releasing some of the interrogation pressure.

♡ This particular game you happen to beat his ass badly at, which honestly just gives your parents that much more to be proud of you for and laugh at so Chan can't even be mad, he just joins in! Your joy is infectious, negating his competitive side...for now. The next game, it's so on. He probably teams up with your mom to take down you and your dad, which they have a lot of fun with.

♡ "That was fun, right?" "Yes," Chan sighs, arms falling around you, "but I'm kind of glad it was over." "Uh oh." "What?" "I hope you won't be disappointed if they want to do this again. They're going to want to be close to you, you know." Chan puts his hand under his chin, pretending to think. "Well, if it lets your mom and I get revenge for that cheap move you pulled, then I'll do it!" "There's the Lee Chan I know," you grin.

[acid-ixx]

Hey hey, you don’t have to answer this ask but truly your works has been so comforting to me in my worst moments with how you write loneliness. I apologize, I should had shown my appreciation earlier as the way you write isolation brought me relief in the understanding of it from a deeper level.

Sure, while there is an occasional joy of reading something where you, the reader instantly gets the love you always crave for… Unfortunately it is never that perfect or at all realistic, sure when people think of touch-starved you think of the desperate and all encompassing one where one is filled with warmth but never about the opposite where you are so touch-starved it floods your guts with nausea at the sudden abundance of it. And you, you! You write that perfectly, I cared about your reader, I was able to cry, I was able to express anger and pace around the room at how well you structure your works. And I wasn’t even a fan of Batfam or indulge deeply into any Batman related media until your fics came across my dash and I was ever so curious to find a nicely written gift basically.

Although I am not as skilled at the pen as you, I feel I should exchange some other things I saved of writers’ words that too gave me some comfort as well in hopes you do as well.

Thank you dedicating your time to write such intimate loneliness, I do truly appreciate and found solace in the best and worst of your reader struggling to accept the nuances of love. The absence and over abundance of love can truly drive all humans to be the worst version of themselves in order to find stability.

No need to post another fic and while I do enjoy them, you can always write about other stuff. Do a Q&A; what inspires you, what are your interests outside of this blog, and etc. Reblog other blogs, make characterization or silly posts, share other things you love at your own will. You, at the end of the day is your greatest priority, no need to demean yourself because you know yourself the best. Thank you and sorry for rambling!

did u know i teared up when i read this ? idk why i did but maybe it's the fact that my writing is meant to primarily comfort myself, it's the things i write whenever i feel absolutely terrible and to see how it genuinely comforts others made me a bit emotional. tysm for your kind words 🥹 but at the same time there's no need to apologize! nobody is obligated to repost or comment on my works really, i just appreciate it when people do since it counts as a way to inspire me and this one genuinely did.

and yes, i love to write about loneliness and abandonment and all those negative emotions purely because it's my medium of ranting about the neglect i went through as a child, it's kind of like my own therapy hehe. u alongside the others love my portrayal of my mc so much it makes my heart go doki doki istg 🎀

also, the poems you sent me made me very emotional too, because i love poems and the symbolic meanings behind them and both pictures just ignited that dying flame i have to insert a poem for chapter 4 of a&a. i love the first poem about the struggles of finding love through your parents and eventually moving on and building a future for yourself and the second one desiring tenderness in the simplest of intimate moments just made my touch starved self ache.

and tysm too for you, alongside many others, reminding me to write for myself because i truly am! it's all just been so tiring seeing a notification and thinking it must've been some input about my writing only to find out it's people asking when or if i'm going to update soon that makes me start to think writing is an obligation, but i'm really trying my best and i feel excited doing a 4k follower special 🩷

[o9t1mus-x]

he ain't heavy (he's my brother)

primo + copia standalone

pairing: none

warnings: themes of anxiety, parental abandonment, nihil being a terrible parent

summary: And why should Copia have a spot in this church? Left at birth, he had watched on from the shadows. Why does it bother him so when he makes a single mistake if nobody is even watching?

word count: 2.5k

authors note: yet another fic of me babbling on about my thoughts about copia. while I do some have more spicy stuff on my back burner, i've been scared since starting a new semester and desperately needed to write out primo being sweet towards copia. (maybe i'm projecting shhhh)

also try to catch the subtle star trek reference i made hehe. enjoy!

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

A blight, a piece of rot that floats through the dust mote filled air of these unhallowed halls. He burrows his way into the small nooks and crannies, cloisters that let him finish his thoughts. When hasn’t he found his way here? He’s existed here for years, far longer than he had been introduced into this world. Proverbially speaking of course, his entrance into the world had been shrouded in indecision and shame. Copia often wonders if anybody had held him tightly to their chest when he was born, softly crooning to him, settling him to sleep before leaving him in the sterile newborns bassinet. Alone, no longer in the perfumed scent of his mother’s skin. 

Pushed into the harsh brick of the greenhouse to the side, he knows he should not be here. Class had gone as usual, his brain teeming with ideas as opposed to the other future Siblings of Sin clustered at his side. A bored yawn, a quashed snarl of bitterness at being stuck inside on such a gorgeous day. (It was not a gorgeous day, Copia had concluded, the sun would burn the freckles that adorned his cheeks. He loathed the aloe he had to smear on whenever he stepped outside for too long). 

Breathing, quashing the swell of anxiety that had burrowed its way into the soft meat of his stomach during the lesson. It had been nothing, truly not a thing to quarrel with his instincts over. But here he was, and the quickening of the air in his brain made him stop in this familiar corner. 

Matron had told him several times that he needed to calm down, and had reminded him in a biting tone. A woman of no nonsense, and this surely seemed like nonsense coming from his mouth. How could he explain it? The burst of emotion from his brain that made him shake at the knees, actual vomit was preferable to the way he stammered and stuttered when approached by someone. 

At this point Copia was certain he would never become a Sibling of Sin. Certainly a smart boy, Bishop Turner had commended him on his last paper he had turned in for History of Satanic Figures. There were no doubts he was capable of learning, yet commanding an audience? A foolish pipe dream in everyone’s eyes that was the most laughable inside joke for the Clergy. Sniggering to themselves, but rage had never bubbled up as he imagined. No, only shame. Blessed with a gift from the Olde One, and a disappointment through and through. 

Copia held his hand to his chest, his fingers bitten through with blood and hangnails he would surely be doctoring himself later in the blessed quiet of his room. The pulse underneath his palm shook, an unsettling cacophony of distress. He had only spoken up in class, given a surprising wrong answer to the question. Who the hell cared about Chaucer anyways? Apparently he did, and the reminder of the way the girl in front of him had sniggered, his face falling and his cheeks reddening in the chill of the lecture hall. 

(Deep down Copia did care about Chaucer, but he was certainly not going to like him anymore after his embarrassment. Nope, never again. Definitely not. Nuh uh). 

The sun’s warmth had soaked into the brick corners of the greenhouse, the plastic tops surely catching the most heat and warming the plants inside. Sweaty, humid. All things Copia detested, now even more with the amount he had started to sweat in the last year. Unfair, Copia thought, why do I get to sweat all the time and I still cannot grow a mustache? The sparse hairs on his lip were laughable, and he had finally taken the step and purchased a razer. Nobody certainly needed to be told, they could tell from the small cuts littering Copia’s cheeks. 

His heart rate still high, he turned to the door on his left. Stained with fertilizer, acrid and dark, dark smears of green against the inside from where moss had grown in the humid room. Primo never got rid of the moss, insisting that everything had a place in his greenhouse. In that same instance he had reassured Copia that just like the moss, everyone had a place in the Ministry. Copia was loath to agree, but he reluctantly accepted it. Verbally, not internally. How could such an odd boy have a space in this church? Odd, loathsome, awkward and vermin to everyone here- 

The door handle turned, Copia shuffling back and staring wide eyed at the door. He was reminded of his appearance, his black vestments no doubt skewed, his laps chapped and his chest sticky with sweat. (Seriously, he had never sweat this much in his life. Can you put a price on getting older? Because if so, Copia would stick himself on a slab as soon as pierce his ear with a price tag). 

The familiar haggard face of Primo peered around the door, his height towering over Copia as usual. The man in front of him was young, but the church weighed heavily on him. You pray so hard on bloody knees, Copia thought. Not from lack of belief, there were no doubts that this was the right path for Primo. But a man can only solve so many problems, attend confessionals every night, herd his flock with a kind hand. His face had begun to reflect the stress, the smile lines on either side growing deep. Ravines, rushing quickly by with tears and sweat to pray at the altar. 

“Copia?” Primo’s voice, etched with wear and tear that stretched into a wretched rasp, reached him through his reverie. “Are you out of class?” The door creaks, a thin hand reaching out to gently clasp his shoulder. Bony fingers, filed nails that bit into fabric, and into the pulpit during every sermon. They were gentle and comfortingly cold through Copia’s robes. 

“Si, I just finished.” Copia’s voice cracked in the jelly-like heat of the midday sun, a quick clear of his throat breaking through the thick air. 

“Ah, this is why you darken my doorstep?” The ravine widens, and Primo- no. He needed to call him Papa now, it had been this way for a few months now, and it still rang new on his tongue. But he would always be Primo to him, fratello. But he was brother, not mother, and not father. Copia preferred not to think about the foreign concept of a father. Papa, he could respect. A father wouldn’t whore himself out.

Copia nods, the lump in his throat returning with a vengeance. A honeyed hum, the hand gently squeezing the defined muscle collecting on his neck. Feet moving forward with no thought, he followed Primo into the crowded building. Red, forays into green, purple, splashes of blue that rounded out the corners of his blurred vision, colors changing hues. He tries not to think too intensely on the ugly rot still building in the cavern of his stomach, his brain pulsing and firing off where he felt he no longer had the right to. His feet blindly falling step by step in front of him, he vaguely felt Primo’s hand drift away from Copia’s shoulder and fall to his hand. Copia recalled when Terzo was younger, around Copia’s own age now. His frequent fits of fear, curled into Primo’s side with tears streaked down his cheeks in red rivulets. While Copia never witnessed Secondo’s own fits firsthand, he had woken up several times to the sounds of breaking glass, slammed doors, quick and sure footsteps following the clunks of the thick soled rubber boots Secondo had begged for. While he was just a child, he knew that it was better to drift off to sleep. How pitiful that he be so reclusive, so unobtrusive in his rage and fear? 

The room opened up as the two of them moved forward, a leering creature of woe and fear above a smaller rodent, perhaps of a similar design deep at heart. They settled at the worn table, strewn with trowels and rough hewn leather gloves. Primo sighed, reaching out to grab the faded blush pink pair that slipped on with familiar ease. Primo turned his gaze, his mismatched eyes latching onto Copia’s own with a feeling that made Copia’s stomach roil with guilt. “Grab a pair, piccolo topo.” Copia let his lips lift at the nickname, although only momentarily. His hands reached out, the freckles dotting his hands disappearing into the thick gloves. He let his hands fall limply to his side, a dramatic gesture that was not lost on Primo with a tiredly fond roll of his eyes. His hand reached out to grab Copia’s hand once again, directing him to the small array of pots on the table to their left. Primo’s hands pulled away, darting out to gingerly grab the pot. 

“Do you know what we are going to be planting?” He asked softly, eyes not meeting Copia’s. Copia’s gaze rose to look at the older man’s face. His papal paint had not yet smeared in the humid air, only dots of sweat along the ridge of his brow. His locks were tied in a hapless bun, small listless strands collecting along the line of his neck. He jumped, meeting Primo’s that had turned to look at him. He had not responded, Copia realized. 

“I’m not sure, Papa.” Copia responded softly. 

“Primo.” The older man corrected, his lips curling in affection and… something Copia could not quite place. He wouldn’t think too intensely, the stirring in his guts already a force to be reckoned with. Uncomfortable, wretched, foul and without any dignity-

“Eh, I don’t know what we are doing now.” He spat the sentence out, the words a bumbling rush of stuttering that was not lost on him. 

“We are re-potting this coriander..” A gesture to their left, and Copia spotted the small flowering plant to his left. 

“I thought coriander was a seasoning?” Copia asked a bit louder, looking with a small sort of curiosity at the small flowering plant in front of them. 

“Quite right. But, they flower in the heat.” The green stalks were long and spindly, though the thin white petals were sprouting proudly outwards. It makes sense that there are flowers then, Copia thought to himself, it was fucking sweltering in here. He decided to keep this crude thought to himself. 

“So why are we putting it into a new pot?” Copia questioned, his head craning upwards to look at Primo. The older man’s head turned, smiling down at him in a way that made Copia’s heart clench uncomfortably tight, the same way he felt when Primo would read him Frankenstein as a young boy. Usually a comfort, but all Copia could think of was shame. Shame at being stupid, never worthy of being the one in the right. 

Primo’s voice cut through the din. “Oh, this little one just needs room to grow. Just as we all do. We can never be too comfortable, or else we will never learn.” His hands reached for the bigger pot, scooting it closer and reaching his hand into the large bag of potting soil to his left. As he spoons in the potting soil, he gestures towards the coriander. “Could you grab our plant, per favore?” He speaks softly, gently. 

The pot is brought closer, Copia taking great care not to injure the small ivory blooms that seem intensely close to drifting off of the stalk. Primo’s hand falls on his own, a pointed squeeze on his freckled hand. “Gently, gently. We must be careful with this one. It has purposes beyond our sight.” A nod, and Primo leaned over him. His hands gently led Copias’ own, their gloved hands reaching into the dirt with precision (Perhaps Primo had precision, but Copia knew he would never have a green thumb, no matter how hard he tried). 

Their hands moved together, the soil falling away from the roots as the plant rose from the pot. “Be careful, Copia.” Primo chided, though there was no bite. There never was. Copia lessened his grip, his hands still cupping the plant with care. They moved as one, the plant gently nestled in the bigger pot. It looked almost pitiful, petite compared to the black paint on the outside of the planter. 

“Copia.” The voice above him said softly, and his gaze shot towards his brothers. Matching, green and white. A painted smile brightening, the younger smile lifting noticeably. “We must give ourselves room to grow, piccolino. If we are always right, how will we learn? Do you think I have always been right? That I have never made mistakes?” Yes, Copia thinks to himself. He knows this is wrong, but Primo is strong. He always knows what to do, what to say, how to dampen the heat that swells inside Copia when he thinks about his life for too long. 

“Copia.” The voice is commanding, kind. His gaze meets the others once more from where it had drifted away. 

“We all mess up. You are intelligent, and a handsome young man to boot. These are hard times, I realize this. And I know that you will grow quicker than you will know how to deal with. Do not doubt yourself.” The words are soft, and Copia tries to force away the stinging in his eyes as he feels tears hit the hot air of the greenhouse. Could Primo read him so easily? Of course he could. He sniffles, his head ducking downwards. Primo’s arms wrap around him, strong hands holding him close. Copia can smell incense, even though Primo was not wearing his papal robes. His cheek rests against the thin linen button down, soft with the passing of time. 

“Shush.” he registers Primo saying softly. A hand is close to Copia’s shoulder, a weight on him that makes him want to slink back to his bed. Back to a time when all he had to worry about was when Star Trek would come on, what he and Terzo would draw before their lessons, would his sandwiches have the crusts cut off again today? And by Satan, he knew his life would only get harder (It already had been). 

A sniffle, and a cut off sob echoes through the room. He pulls away, and Primo’s slightly calloused fingers delicately wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Do not worry.” He coos, and Copia feels the knot in his tummy begin to loosen. His eyes burn in the hazy light, and he blinks furiously. 

“Now, we have our plant in his home. What would you like to do?” Primo asks quietly, and Copia looks at him with sheepishness plainly written on his face. 

“Can we go to the cafeteria and get some treats? I am thinking that Christine wants something to snack on.” Primo laughs at that, drawing back and letting his arm rest over Copia’s shoulders in a subtle embrace. 

“We do not have to go all the way across the Abbey, would she like some raspberries? They are in season.” Copia nods, his heart quickening at the thought of teaching Christine more of her tricks. She had so far learned to go in a circle, her little whiskers twitching in excitement. 

And as they walked down the worn pathway through the foliage, Copia knew he couldn’t have cared less if he had known where Chaucer had written his poems. 

[apple-orchards-writings]

so, im a hugeeee pokemon fan, and i couldn't resist giving some LI's full teams, i'm posting them for peer review (and also i have no idea what nicknames they would give their pokemon, so uhhh help ?)

I tried to take pokemon solely from the Galarian pokedex, cause it's the UK equivalent and I thought it'd be fun :

Kylar's team:

Chandelure was a Litwick he found in his house a few days after his parents had "the accident", and it brought him some much needed warmth. The things about Litwicks, is that they leech off of people's life force, but is also said to guide lost children to the spirit world, but Kylar was too stubborn to die, so the Litwick stayed and grew up into his Chandelure.

The Absol he found when he was in middle school, he was fleeing from bullies and ducked into an alleyway, where he found an injured Absol staring intently at him. Absols are seen as doombringers because of their ability to foresee imminent disasters, so this one had been chased off and thrown rocks at, meaning it was in bad shape. Kylar took it home and nursed it back to health, and it has since refused to leave his side.

Decidueye was the offspring of his parents' pokemon, and has been his since the egg hatched, so it's very attached to its master, willing to do everything for him, it was here for the accident and remains highly protective of its master. (also owl motif hehe)

The Alolan Ninetales I have less of a reason for, but it is said to act as a guide to people when they come to its mountain, and I had this idea of Kylar coming up the snowy mountain for some reason, and the Ninetales growing fond of this tiny shivering kid, and just following him and cuddling him until he caught it. (idk i just want good things for Kylar ig sue me)

The shiny Galvantula was for me a result of Kylar trying his hand at breeding Joltiks for fun, and this one being in the first few eggs he finds. He decides to keep it, at first for bragging rights, but he really does take good care of it, so another pokemon is added to his ever growing cuddle pile.

Finally, the Crobat was probably found in the rafters of the mansion as a small Zubat, around the time Kylar only had the Litwick and Rowlet. Kylar, having leftover pokemon food, decides to just feed the little fella, and a good friendship blooms. Crobats are said to be extremely stealthy, and can drain people of their blood, so Kylar has gained himself a convenient way of scaring off rivals.

Whitney's team:

Cinderace probably came up to Whitney when he was a child as a Scorbunny, seeing him play football with his friends and wanting to play too. A fast friendship, I'd say, I think Whitney would have been a super energetic kid, and a Scorbunny is perfect for him.

The shiny Togekiss was probably a Togepi gifted by his uncle, and technically a Togekiss, which usually avoid strife, should never stay in Rapeshire, this one likes Whitney too much to leave, it wants to bring him as much joy as possible.

I mean come on, Obstagoon is THE deliquent pokemon, of course Whitney has one. Maybe gifted to him by one of his gang's members ? I think that'd be cute.

Drednaws are seen as highly aggressive so I'm thinking one might have been rampaging through "Whitney's territory", and he wrestled it into "submission", gaining its respect, not before he gets bit through a little tho. He still has the scar from the incident, and the Drednaw sometimes licks at it in apology, now that its been caught.

Alright so I have the headcanon (or maybe it was canon and I forgot) that Whitney has had a garden since he was a kid, and maybe the Roserade came from there as a little Budew ? As in, it was interested and just started staying around, and Whitney couldn't get rid of it, so he just caught it.

Lastly, Sylveon. Sylveons evolve when they have high enough friendship with their trainer (and a fairy move), and obviously Whitney has been pampering it, but I'm thinking it probably doesn't come out of the ball in public much, it's kind of his secret ? But yeah, it's still very much loved.

Robin's team:

Dubwool was found as a Wooloo by the PC when they were going around the moors, it probably escaped from a farm and PC just brought it back for Robin to take care of as a gift. Its wool is said to be bouncy, but I think it can also be a way for Robin to ground themselves if they ever panic, as in they can bury their face in the wool and just shut the world out, I think that'd be sweet.

Goodra has been with Robin since it was a little Goomy, which are considered the weakest dragon type (the pokedex says it not me). Goomys are very good at detecting danger, and can hide very easily, so, sensing little Robin's good intentions, it probably helped hide him from Bailey. Apparently, Goodras give amazing good hugs, even if they do cover their trainer in slime, but I don't think Robin would mind.

Quagsire, similarly knew Robin as a Wooper. Woopers, when walking on land to find food, develop a toxic membrane on their bodies, but this one couldn't quite manage it, and was attacked by predators when Robin was passing through. Robin chased off the predators and gave the Wooper some fruits to help it recuperate, and its been attached to them ever since. Quagsires are very carefree pokemon, and they make great pillows. Basically I'm just giving Robin a perfect team for a cuddle nest.

Victini is the only legendary on this list, and I felt it was only right to give Robin the ever cheerful Victory Pokemon. Victini probably found Robin either after they were taken to the docks, or if that hasn't happened, after they confess to PC. Robin keeps Victini secret at all costs, as it would be hunted for its ability. Having Victini around probably helps Robin regain some self-esteem, and they make a great duo.

Boltund is a dog Robin found in the park one winter day as they were selling hot chocolate, a poor cold mutt with no identifiable traits proving it was owned. Robin secretly took it home and made the split second decision to keep it, now they've got a very excitable dog that's unflinchingly loyal. Boltund acts a sort of guard dog as well, reassuring Robin when they're walking past the docks.

Whimsicott had infiltrated the orphanage, and pulled a prank on Bailey, as Whimsicotts are wont to do, covering his office in its excess cotton. Bailey was furious and looking everywhere for the mischief maker, but the little ball of trouble had hidden itself in Robin's room, and the latter decided to keep it out of trouble and continue hiding it. Ever since then it's felt indebted and stays with Robin. It also quite likes to play pranks on Bailey, and that brings a smile to Robin, so why not continue to do it?

Sydney's team

Inteleon was actually gifted to Sydney as a Sobble by Sirris, reasoning his child should have a partner pokemon, so Sydney is the only one of this list with an actual starter pokemon (in the sense that he was supposed to go on a pokemon journey but ultimately stayed home). Inteleon loves its trainer very much, even if it has to force them to take breaks every now and then. A laid back pokemon and a hardworking trainer is a good duo, they influence each other a lot.

Audino was actually the temple's pokemon at first, acting as an aide to the temple's nurse, but it liked Sydney a lot and always fussed over them much more than any other initiate, so the temple relented and allowed Sydney to keep the Audino. Audino is actually the first one to pick up on Sydney's crushes, since it can use its feelers to sense its trainer's emotions. It subtly pushes Sydney to confess every time.

Dragapult was a lonely Dreepy haunting the temple's cemetery, having been left behind by its pack, it was letting out little mourning cries, which naturally attracted the curious little Sydney, who started leaving some food out for it, since it was too flighty to be approached at first. A few more weeks of getting it used to their presence, and it let itself be caught and taken care of.

Lilligant to me, was originally Sydney's other parent's pokemon, and acted as a sort of mother to them from the start. Lilligants release a soothing aroma, and I think in a time of mourning, or when Sydney lost Kylar, it would act as an aid and smother Sydney in the fragrance to help him feel better.

Okay so work with me for Volcarona here, because in multiple pokedexes, Volcarona is said to have been revered as a sun deity, and while that isn't the case today anymore, it still is a very significant part of Volcarona's history, so finding one in the woods while on a walk someday and being followed by it to the temple, all the while acolytes and initiates are falling to their knees around you is not the thing Sydney was expecting, but still, Volcarona has chosen them, so might as well roll with it.

Finally, Dedenne was a living in the school library before Sydney found it chewing through books and decided to give it a better home, and now it lives with them. It likes to take care of the books as well, and has become the library's unofficial mascot.

so uhh yeah those were my thoughts, tell me what you think ?