#i simply. adore him and would fo anything for him

[bookwyrminspiration]

i just think that Fitz <3

[shmpxx]

THE TERRIBLE EGOIST — i.y

⛤ isagi yoichi x fem! reader

The popular football player rejected you and didn’t expect you to get over him so easily. If you liked him before he can get you to like him again.

cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampie(s). oral (f. receiving). jerk isagi. dub-con. rough sex. pet names (baby, pretty, princess). finger sucking. marking. overstimulation. multiple orgasms + mention of multiple rounds. pussy drunk isagi. college au. intoxication. mentions of alcohol. +18!

wc: 2.9k

Isagi yoichi was the biggest egoist of them all. His popularity of being the best football player on the team at a university he attends and of course his good looks that kept his reputation up and the girls in line. He couldn’t simply ruin that with having girlfriend or anything that had to do with dating. He had only one thing to be stressed about and that was football. Though it sure wasn’t a problem if he just had his fun.

He was use to it, rejecting girls because he wants to focus on his upcoming games and he had no time for relationships. That didn’t stop them from at least trying again once or twice, maybe more than that. No one could get over him, that’d be impossible in his egotistic mind. Even people are to be warned not to be messed with him because he would easily tell you he doesn’t do that kind of “stuff” after just him making out with you 30 seconds ago.

He’s not mean about it though, he wouldn’t tell you to straight up thats he’s just not interested in you instead he says it sincerely even though he knows what he’s doing and how to do it, letting them down easy he knows they always come back anyways. Isagi loathes in the feeling of being adored, if he could get it from his fans he can get it from somewhere else and a different audience. How else could he keep himself entertained with the ladies?

“I really do like you Isagi” Then there was a long pause when you waited for him to answer, he rubs the back of his neck and stares at the ground before he could give you the bad news.

“‘M sorry I don’t really do relationships, I just want to focus on my career and I don’t want ‘dating’ to get in the way of that..we can always be friends though?”

You were confused, you don’t get it? He was flirting and teasing you for weeks. You were hanging out a lot, people would’ve been convinced you both were dating. You never kissed or held hands but surely it had to be obvious. Your friends convinced you that he liked you back, no guy would act that way towards a girl he doesn’t like or wouldn’t want to take things further with? Was he just leading you on?

“Uh..yeah i understand...” you really didn’t, you wanted to ask him why but he would probably repeat what he just said.

Isagi sighs like he has not gone through many let downs and watch the disappointment of his victim. “No hard feelings?”

“Yeah..none”

Then it’s been a week since he hasn’t seen you. Usually they come back in a day or two in his book so why haven’t you? It shouldn’t stress him out about it, it��s just longer than he expected it to be. His stupid ego got the best of him and his way of thinking that he could have every girl begging on their knees for him.

Jealousy bites him in the back when he’s sees you talking to other guys especially the ones on his team, he shouldn’t be jealous? He doesn’t even like you, he’s the one who rejected you so why does it eat at him? He wasn’t focused on anyone but you not paying him no mind, he’ll walk by you expecting to connect eye contact but you’ll be chatting up with your friends like he doesn’t exist. Maybe he could try to get you to like him again to fill his ego, yeah that’s probably it. You guys never made out or had sex, that was maybe the problem and he just had to do that.

You slowly became irritated when he kept trying to talk to you though they were just failed conversations. You didn’t know why he was trying to talk to you and you were trying to avoid him, how else could you move on from him?

He invites you to a party for tonight as a start of a friendship he wanted to build with you hoping you weren’t still upset with him, your friends really wanted to go since his teammates would be there and you agreed taking a chance with Isagi. You had a gut feeling but you didn’t know whether it was good or bad, you just knew something was to come as he grins to himself when you said yes. A scheme he has planned behind his soft smile.

Isagi being an athlete, he wasn’t a drinker though he offered you one, another one, also two more. Honestly you stopped counting after the second. Perhaps it was the alcohol but you started to feel glad that you and Isagi come to an agreement to be friends. Maybe you were too harsh, maybe he genuinely wanted to be friends as you were trying to ignore him this whole time.

The way your hands started to feel clammy because he kept staring at you, you felt as if his gaze your burning into your skin, you felt nervous, rubbing your hands on your dress. Why are you feeling nervous? You don’t like him, well you used to. You tried to push the thoughts away that he is cute, no he was and isn’t still you don’t really like him? You wonder if it was just your drunken mind playing tricks on you or the feelings were coming back again and he can read you good.

“Don’t do that..” he tilts his head at you as if he were oblivious however he knows all too well. “Don’t do what?”

“You’re looking at me like...” you didn’t want to assume or flat out say it, you shrug because you didn’t know what to add on or decide not to jump to conclusions, Isagi laughs to himself.

He’s a good guy with no rude intentions, yet he’s leading you by the hand upstairs in a unoccupied room.

“Why are we in here?” You sat on the edge of the bed watching him shut the door behind him “it’s quieter for us” he sat right next to you, he didn’t leave space between you both he was so close his figure was towering over you and you can feel his body warmth emit on your arm. You don’t know why you didn’t ask him another question about you both here alone when the party is clearly downstairs.

His hand is rubbing your inner thigh, his fingers are carefully slipping up your dress and his lips softly brushes against yours so it wasn’t fully a kiss, you didn’t know if you should so you mutter “I thought we were friends now Isagi”

“We are..unless you like me now..?”

“I-i don’t know…” you rubbed your knees together

“We’ll see” he kisses you roughly, honestly he’s trying to at least bruise your lips. You try to take in as much breaths but he doesn’t allow you to, his tongue blocking your airway in your mouth and your breathing heavily through your nose.

As he’s basically consuming you, his hand that was placed in your inner thigh moved towards to your covered pussy. Your hands grasp his arm to stop his fingers massaging your folds through your underwear. When his lips began attacking your neck you whine out his name when you start to feel the heat increase throughout your body, you felt you were gonna melt.

You smelt good as he placed wet kisses on your neck, sucking lightly on your skin leaving colored hues and moved onto another blank space of your skin he could mark. Isagi never thought it’d be easy to get you here, he might’ve thought wrong that you’d be difficult to get you where he needed you to be and he’s only kissing your neck and playing with your pussy behind your panties.

He presses lightly on it and you let out a shattered breath “Right here?” And he starts to rub your clit in circular motion. If you were sober without an drop of alcohol you probably wouldn’t let Isagi have his way with you, but you’re moaning under your breath, your jutting your hips against his hand, your eyes fluttered when he reaches under you rubbing the outside of your cunt.

Your mind getting slightly fuzzy you decided to fall onto your back on the soft bed when you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. “Come on baby you can’t give up on me now” he takes off your shoes before he climbed onto the bed to spread your legs open.

“I can’t” you shake your head though you’re not kicking back to stop, you let him feel up your sides because his touch is warm and made you feel good, it had to be the alcohol lingering in your system or your feelings for Isagi are starting to come back even though you were helping yourself get over him before you came to this party “I just want you to like me princess” sounding sincere when he places a quick kiss on your lips, he lifts up your dress over your stomach to pull your panties down your hips and off your legs.

He’s caressing your thighs, riling you up and pampering kisses between your inner legs his face drawing dangerously close to your bare pussy. His hands push your thighs nearly to your stomach, giving you a peck on your cunt and the warm wet muscle ghost over your cunt making your breathing harder than it should be.

It was like he was making out with your pussy, his lips and tongue burying deep in your pussylips, his arms were locked around your thighs so you couldn’t pull away, you could only move your lower legs and you writhed on the bed in bliss and constantly moaned his name. “Ah! Isagi!..hah!” You could be as loud as you wanted because the music was loud enough to hide your pathetic whines.

Your hands grip the sheets underneath you until his tongue flicked your clit, sucking on it slow your hand reaches for his dark hair, your fingers tangling through his locks at the top of his head. “Oh-my g-ah!…” you sputtered, he’s still eating you out like a hungry man.

He’s lost into licking and sucking on your sweet pussy, your fingers tugging on his hair and moaning his name is making his dick hard, he’s growing amusement of his licks that are long and slow, dragging up on your clit and his lips wrap around it. Your hips are moving up and down, grinding on his face. If he could have you sit on his face he would but he needed you to cum, cum on his lips.

You started to become more squirmy when you feel your cunt twitch and your clit burning to cum when he sucks harder. Your hand through his hair tightening and your moans were becoming high pitched.

You rolled your head back moaning his name when you feel yourself cum on his mouth, his lips wouldn’t detach from your fluttering pussy and continued to use his mouth until he was ready to be done. After a bit though he didn’t want to work you up on another orgasm so he halted himself from eating you further more.

“You taste so good princess y’know that?” He comes up on top of you and to offer you a sloppy kiss whilst he’s unbuttoning his pants to pull out his hardened cock. You brought your hands behind his neck to keep kissing you more, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue. you were already defeated when you first came into this room and you let him feel you up, you wanted to beat yourself up for it but you’re too dazed out of your mind to care, kissing Isagi now when you never got to before, you just wanted him in the moment.

Isagi gave himself a couple strokes, he opens your legs for more entry and with no warning your tight walls are being pushed aside by his cock when he slowly sheaved himself in, you gasp loudly by the disturbance of his dick intruding your pussy. Your breathing was shaky and Isagi hisses when you grip him tight and didn’t bother giving you a chance to process his dick inside you when he starts his hungry thrusts.

“Isagi-”

“Sorry princess..i gotta fuck you now” he was so harsh and fast, he was bullying you. The egoists cock was rubbing so relentlessly in your pussy, you’re moaning so much and each time he makes sure he slams his cock deep. He squeezes your tits and he wasn’t soft with them either, he was kneading them in his hand like hard dough.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you and here I thought you didn’t like me anymore..do you like me now? I know you do” you didn’t have to say yes, he already answered for you, you were too overwhelmed to speak though you could whine with your fingers slightly over your mouth so you could breathe.

He moves your hand out of your face as his thumb slips between your lips into your mouth, the pad of his thumb pressing down on your tongue. “That’s it baby suck on it” your lips wrap around his thumb just like how he had demanded.

You hummed with his thumb in your mouth, batting your pretty eyelashes at him and he grits his teeth with his stamina rising even more from the way you look at him, like you were purposely doing it to get him to fuck you even harder like as he was pounding into you anyways. He couldn’t let you get to him, it had to be the other way around.

“Looking at me like that pretty?-ah!” His cock jerked inside, knowing he was about to release his cum the more he constantly pushed his dick in and out of you. His jaw hung open, panting and moaning when he feels his nerves on fire. As you were about to touch yourself he rubbed your clit with his wet thumb that was settling in your mouth so you both can cum together.

“‘m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum Isagi!” Isagi is so rough with you, him adding onto more to build your orgasm intensively circling your sweet bud.

Shock takes over his face when your legs wrap around his waist and you pleaded him “please cum inside me! Please Isa-!” Did you just beg him to? He was going to anyway though he didn’t expect you to practically be desperate for it that your legs are secured around his waist. Fuck, why did his heart just sink?

“Y-yeah, I’ll cum right in you, just for you princess” he growled, his last thrust he sunk deep into your spasming walls and his pushed down on your clit. Your eyelids twitched feeling his cum empties in your womb, your body quivered, it felt like stars were floating everywhere around you. “‘ts feels good..f-feels ‘s good” you whined.

Isagi bit his bottom lip gazing at your pretty tired face, This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he couldn’t keep up his ego anymore. He grew hard again and the only thoughts running through his head was wanting to fuck you again.

How long has it been? Two, four rounds, more? Both your bodies would completely stripped off of clothes, sweat mixing together that his hair was slightly damp. The music still booming loud as ever outside meaning people were still here which you both had completely forgotten since you were both gone into drowning in pleasure. Isagi is still in between your legs, pounding into your swollen pussy that had a brimful of his cum because he came so many times like he was still a starving caveman needing more.

Isagi is so deep into your pussy he forgot what was his motive the whole time, you’re mewling for him to stop but damn you look so pretty, why did he reject you again? He couldn’t even remember anything before he got into this room with you because of the delight of your hot cunt had him hooked. His arms beside your head as he watched you cry from the sensitivity of your previous orgasms he drew out of you. His heart fluttering in his chest when you wrap your arms around his neck and whimper his name.

You both couldn’t think correctly but just thinking about how much it feels like heaven and the need to cum again.

“‘m about to cum again Isagi!” You repeated again before, He nodded while he was also cum again and damn he was so out of energy of pulling orgasm after orgasm, his breaths were shattered, his thrusts were sloppy. His tongue hanging from his mouth like he had fight to finish. “‘m cumming too-fuck!” Another addictive feeling washing over you both at the same time, once again he gives you another bundle of his cum.

Isagi finally caught his breath and noticed your leg’s couldn’t stop trembling. “F-fuck Isagi, I’m shaking…” you murmured. His stomach was in knots and not because he had just came but he was going against his own rules he made up the beginning. His evil scheme had failed when he came down to kiss you again but it was softer, didn’t bother pulling out, he rose back up with straight up determination in his eyes.

“Be my girlfriend..”

[dxstopiaa]

Hello! Your an amazing writer lol, but could I request anemo boys with a reader who's really anxious about people and just about everyone in general. The reader can be female or gn ^^

characters: xiao, kazuha, heizou, scaramouche x fem/gn! reader

warnings: themes of social anxiety, fluff! [thank you anon! this is so so late i’m sorry. this is a cute idea as someone with anxiety around others <3]

xiao

୨୧ Xiao admires your withdrawn personality— he didn’t think of your anxiety around others as a dire issue, especially as he was always there to protect you. Though his thoughts changed as it became worrying at one point.

୨୧ You wouldn’t leave the house at all if your boyfriend wasn’t with you, wether it was to get groceries or to simply get a breath of fresh air. He hated himself for it, thinking he’d probably caused it to worsen and he spent every minute with you to pacify your mind.

୨୧ He saw him within yourself— avoiding other people and interactions so avidly for the sake of your own comfort. With an abundance of reassurance and understanding, he had gotten to a point where he was semi-confident to appear in the streets of Liyue. All because of your words, those that you didn’t follow yourself.

୨୧ Xiao didnt know where to start, should he discuss it with you or should he remain subtle? He watched you closely, you weren’t as shy with him, if at all. Always so keen to share anything you had found while in the isolated forests, be it a flowering bamboo shoot or a photograph.

୨୧ Yet the second you entered the harbour, all your personality seemed to be drained from within you. He felt your shaky hand grasp his own whenever anyone came towards you, your heart was beating at a near unhealthy rate from the mere thought of engaging in conversation.

୨୧ It pained him to see such a lovely person like yourself feel like you didn’t fit in anywhere. Except from in between his arms, albeit inexperienced with embracing you, it was comforting nonetheless.

“Dear, if you ever need me, just call out my name.”

kazuha

୨୧ It wasn’t exactly unfamiliar for him at all, if anything, Kazuha slightly understood your apprehension towards others. When he had asked you why— out of curiosity, you couldn’t put it into words. Hence why such a poetic lover could do it for you.

୨୧ You’d shield yourself under his arms, hiding from something. Perhaps the lingering gaze of common folk, yet wouldn’t that prove how beautiful you truly are? Had he interpreted the message wrongfully? It seems so.

୨୧ “Like the breeze which flows across these lands, carrying all sorts of leaves, each different from the rest, some poisonous to the touch, others blank and rarely those with beauty in the howl they sing in passing.” Kazuha had described it, a suitable analogy according to your praise.

୨୧ He has never pushed you from where you were comfortable— insisting you take your time on the journey of expression. Need something from the market but you feel to anxious to go? Absolutely fine, your lover brings photographs and all you desire to familiarise the place to you. After all, nothing good is formed in rushed writing.

୨୧ On days where your perturbation reached worrying levels, Kazuha would sit beside you through it, offering to discuss your feelings. A compassionate man such as he listened to every tense word that stammered past your lips with only patience.

“Darling, I promise these turbulent emotions will pass, for now, please remember how much you mean to me and those who adore you.”

heizou

୨୧ It’s only natural for the renowned detective of the Tenryou Commission himself to notice your hesitation around people— you’d soon come to realise you weren’t as discreet as you thought you were.

୨୧ Simple gestures, like fumbling and fidgeting with your fingers or an object, even hiding your face from others behind your frail hands (which he found unusual, you’re beautiful, why would you hide yourself away?) to complete states of panic, where you would shut the world out for hours at a time.

୨୧ It wasn’t easy at all for you, he knew that best. He recalls how when he first started dating you, how quiet and tense you were. Now you’ve warmed up to him enough to tell him about your worries. Heizou would take your hands in his own, massaging them and observing your brittle nails from biting them so often.

୨୧ You’ve insisted multiple times that your boyfriend must of found you irritating or annoying yet he feels his heart break every time those accusations fall from your lips. How he hated the self-deprecating words you degrade yourself with. Heizou would do anything to make you realise the truth.

୨୧ He loves you— the detective would leave meetings and parties just to stay by your side, if you didn’t feel comfortable around a person he’d instantly leave and go with you instead. Nothing matters more than the apple of his eye, no matter how anxious you are.

“Sweetheart, i adore you for who you are, everyone else comes second to you.”

scaramouche

୨୧ When he met you at first, Scaramouche couldn’t understand your fear of other humans, why would your arms shake whenever someone merely approached you? Why wasn’t it the same with him— is it because he’s not human?

୨୧ A puppet, one too emotional to function as intended and one too unfamiliar with social norms. That’s all he was, and you were drawn into him for it. Now that you’re both closer than ever, he’s realised he’s not meant to decipher you, but rather to accept and protect.

୨୧ If anyone got too close to you, he’d shield you with his body in a heartbeat, deterring them away. Those cold, indigo eyes softened by your trembling hands. Such a delicate being, he’s handle everyone else like meaningless stones, yet you’ll be upheld and guarded like priceless pottery, as if you’d crack with the raise of his voice.

୨୧ He knows how it feels to be dismissed and ignored, and Scaramouche would do anything to abolish such a cruel act against you. His empty chest filled with warmth, all of your love and reliance into a loving pulse of affection. A makeshift heart.

୨୧ A couple of limited words, but so rich in actions the outside eye couldn’t see. You cherish what you have, and so does he.

“I’ll admit, when i’m with you, i don’t feel so inhuman anymore, i’m given a purpose that i’ve been searching for.”

[honeycollectswhump]

prompt:

you think i actually care about you? cute.

with pet whumpee who started to truly love whumper and believed whumper loved them too

Love and Worship

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, cigarette burns

There is a certain kind of satisfaction linked to spending one’s evening alone in the big hall, surrounded by nothing but gold and jewels, resting on only the softest cushions while occasionally being fed grapes by servants with shaking hands. Others may call it a dream; Mireille calls it a well-deserved daily life.

Everything is beautiful, just as it is supposed to be. The furniture is spotless, having been meticulously cleaned the second Mireille leaves the room, each gem is polished like the morning sun. The servants –about a dozen– wear only the finest clothes, which are almost as expensive and certainly prettier than anything they deserve. 

But what they deserve doesn’t matter, and who cares about the message trying to be sent, when the domestics look like they were taken from the streets? 

This, the big hall, the rooms, every single floor is art. They are a stage for only the finest performers, and sometimes that means having to clothe simple actors in garments more expensive than their life is worth.

It’s a price Mireille is more than willing to pay. Money is never an issue and of course, they don’t outshine her.

Mireille leans back, letting her long black hair drape over the backrest, and takes a drag from the cigarette held loosely in her hand. She looks like a painting, like the pride and joy of a knowledgeable collector. Every single movement is deliberately elegant in a way that has been taught to her since childhood. A woman like her is worth her weight in gold.

Smoking is just another habit she picked up along the way. It’s part of a perfectly curated image, the mysterious lady, the untouchable femme fatale. A calculated show, one that Mireille cannot go without and the thought of abandoning it makes her hands shake, even though she’d rather die than admit it.

Decidedly, she stops that train of thought before any conclusions could be drawn that would be unbecoming for a lady of her calibre. 

Mireille draws in a deep breath through her cigarette and blows the smoke in the air, watching it drift lazily through the hall. Right next to her, her ashtray kneels on the floor, waiting patiently. 

Out of all of her purchases, he’s her favourite. He is undoubtedly beautiful, about as fine as a diamond, with golden hair and shining blue eyes. But then again, Mireille paid good money for his looks. His beauty is not a compliment, it’s the majority of his worth. She would not be satisfied with anything less than perfection.

Her adoration for her companion-decor goes further than his beauty and the entertainment he brings into her life though. There is something about this particular item that her other servants lack, whose fondness for her doesn’t go beyond an innate, natural sense of loyalty.

Her ashtray worships her. Mireille doesn’t need to hear him say it (and it’s not like he was made to speak in the first place). She can simply tell by the way he looks at her with nothing but pure reverence in his eyes. He offers himself up with eagerness and wears the burns like compliments on his skin. 

It’s intoxicating. 

All of her life, men and women alike have adored her, but this is a different, addicting kind of love. Without a doubt, she is the centre of his universe and Mireille would not have it any other way.

The cigarette is nearly burned to the end. After one last drag, she turns her attention towards her ashtray, pondering how she is going to leave a mark this time. There is so much to choose from, although the little round scars are beginning to pile up. It’s a game for her and a blessing for him. 

“Give me your tongue, won’t you?” Mireille purrs and the ashtray complies immediately, of course. He straightens, eager to have received a command –both mindless puppet and loyal mutt–, and holds out his tongue for her. The thought of disobeying her order would never even cross his mind. 

Something about the way he offers up such a vulnerable part of himself without hesitation gives Mireille a rush every single time. She presses the still-glowing cigarette end into the soft but marred flesh. It should cause a visceral reaction, even after the scar tissue must have numbed the nerve ends.

Her servants would whimper and cry in his place. They wouldn’t know what to do with themselves, shaking in anticipation and fear of the pain. Instead, her ashtray barely shudders and keeps his body rigid and still until she is done.

Only then does he lift his eyes to her face, searching for her satisfaction. Just being allowed to look at her is reward enough for her ashtray, and his eyes shimmer with devotion. When she graces him with a smile, he vibrates with excitement and joy. 

She lifts her hand to his head and pets him and the ashtray all but presses into her touch, content with a job well done. That’s the difference between her servants and her ashtray. He is looking forward to getting burned by her, there is nothing in the whole wide world that he’d rather do.

“You really are enjoying this, huh? Do you actually think I care about you? That’s so cute.” Mireille smiles.

And her stupid little ashtray just melts under a touch he thinks speaks of mutual affection.

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0 let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

[randomwriteronline]

@fraymotiif fo yo fren

At first, the twins alternated between following him everywhere like Duckletts that accidentally imprinted on a Seadra and skittishly disappearing behind walls or corners the moment he tried to turn towards them.

Figuring out the steps of the dance they were tentatively leading around him was proving to be a bit of a careful balancing act, one he wasn’t quite used to - at least not to this degree. Marshal had been awfully frightened by him when he’d first met him too, after all, but he was three years old; the boys were fifteen, almost sixteen by now, and yet they still behaved like toddlers interacting with someone they know only vaguely.

Touch was far from a problem, that was certain: as soon as they’d figured out they could lean onto him whenever they wanted they had no trouble holding onto his arms or bumping into him so that he’d ruffle their hair.

The trouble seemed to start from their room.

They were horribly nervous about anything and everything that could have been inside of it - although he knew it couldn’t be much, let alone anything to be embarassed or secretive about, since most of their belongings he’d already seen when they’d emptied their backpacks and they’d really been barely more than the bare necessities.

Drayden knew better than to snoop around in a Dragon’s den uninvited, so he would let them sit there for hours on their own, doing who knew what.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. But he couldn’t really just ask them.

He’d tried!

The answer had been a couple uncoordinated shrugs and a quick ‘nothing’ meant to distance him.

In the end, he supposed the only way to find that out would have been for them to decide to make him participant to whatever they did back in there and simply tell him upfront by themselves.

“You can’t!”

“Why not? What’s so wrong about it?”

“You can’t! You can’t!”

Or for them to argue loud enough, that too.

“If you just repeat that I can’t understand what the wrong part is!” this was Ingo.

“You can’t!” and this was Emmet. “It messes it up! Messes everything up!”

“What does it mess up?”

“Eelektrik!”

Ah - that explained why he was so upset; he loved that levitating lamprey almost as much as his brother, or trains. He adored parading it over his shoulders like a sentient scarf, and once or twice Drayden had even seen him fearlessly hold that terrible mouth close to his face as he slept, without a single worry.

“Oh, well, of course it messes him up. That’s the point.”

“You can’t do that!”

It seemed weird that Ingo would want to hurt his younger twin’s ace, though.

Unless it was a matter of battling, in which case he would have definitely run that poor thing over without hesitation or second thoughts.

“Yes I can!”

“You can’t! You can’t!”

“Yes I can! It’s a strategy like any other!”

“It’s not! It’s not! This one it’s not!”

“You just say that because it's really powerful and it neutralizes your favorite!”

“Yes!”

Drayden’s citrine eyes fell through the crack of the slightly opened door: he caught a glimpse of the heavily scribbled page of a notebook, red and green ink all over the paper, upon a stark white black-lined background between folded legs that were clearly getting more and more agitated as the squabble went on.

“Something the matter, boys?” he asked as he knocked gently.

The door slid open a little bit at that. He barely had the time to peek through that the notebook was gone, spirited away with a slight of hand that maybe wasn’t particularly graceful but certainly honed by practice.

Both twins, sitting half hunched and crosslegged on the beds they’d pushed together as they often did, turned to him with near matching innocent expressions, honestly surprised by his appearance but feigning ignorance. They raised their chins at him in tandem in a silent candid question.

“Thought I’d heard you arguing,” Drayden explained.

Emmet shrugged - a fluid motion that shook his arms outwards.

“We were just reading,” Ingo replied, straining his voice into sounding calm as he patted a large book of their on the history of trains in Sinnoh.

Hm. They probably used that as a desk.

The man shook his head lightly, playing a little into their pantomime: “Then I must be getting old and hearing things. You sounded like you were discussing battle strategies,” and before they could startle he changed his tone to reassure them of whatever they were worried about: “If that were the case, I would have been happy to help you figure them out.”

He looked at the twins a little longer, waiting as it dawned on them that he was, indeed, a Gym Leader, and asking him for help on the topic would have, indeed, made sense, while hiding it away from him very much did not.

They retreated a little sheepish into their own shoulders.

Finally the eldest shyly pulled out the battered notebook from beneath himself and presented it to their uncle, who carefully entered their domain to take a seat by them in the way one tiptoes their uninvited way through the den of a very disgruntled mothering Hydreigon.

“We were, uhm... We were planning our teams,” the boy showed him, pointing at his narrow red calligraphy and his twin’s blockier green handwriting.

Two mirrored columns divided in six rows were compiled with a few Pokémon names, other spaces instead left blank; two more had a label above them which read ‘type’, followed by another couple labeled as ‘ability’, then another pair bearing the sign of ‘item’, and finally much larger two meant to house the party member’s moveset. It was an incredibly meticulous job, Drayden noted with his fair share of marvel.

“You’re real thorough,” he nodded thoughtfully.

Emmet smiled, very much proud of their work; Ingo cleared his throat, adjusting his seat a little to try and not let his fluster show: “And we - and we got to, to this point here - see? This slot here. I was - I thought, I wanted to get - uhm...”

“Earthquake,” Drayden read aloud: “A powerful move.”

Embarassed by his stuttering, Ingo just nodded.

“Paired with... Mold Breaker? For an ability?” his uncle continued with an encouraging tone: “That’s a very good combination.”

“He can’t use it,” Emmet instantly butted in, very piqued.

His brother snapped out of his mortification to glare daggers at him: “Yes I can,” he rebutted.

“No!” and he threw a pen at the elder.

Drayden caught it inn midair without thinking, handing it back over to Emmet: “And why can’t he?”

“Because he can’t!”

“He’s just mad that it would put Eelektrik on the ground to get quaked.”

"Eelektrik has no weaknesses! I want him to keep having no weaknesses!”

“An opponent with Gastro Acid could do the same thing,” their uncle noted.

“But they’d waste a turn!” the younger whined: “Maybe they wouldn’t have Ground moves. Or Eelektrik could paralyze them. Or K.O. them. Mold Breaker is instant! It’s not fair.”

“It’s plenty fair!” Ingo argued.

“It’s cheap!”

“No it’s not, it’s a good strategy!”

“Cheap!”

“Boys.”

They both immediately fell quiet.

He ruffled their hair to reassure them he was not mad at them; they leaned against his palms.

“There’s surely plenty of ways to counter that, or at least minimize the damage,” Drayden said, watching Emmet pout and huff as he validated the fairness of Ingo’s plan. “I should have a Fraxure around your partners’ level who’s just the gal for this. We can try out some counters with her right now, how’s that sound?”

“Oh!” the eldest startled a little. He searched for his brother’s matching surprised eyes: “Right - right now?”

“I mean, if you have time.”

“No, it’s--”

“We need to plan,” the youngest explained.

Their uncle furrowed his brows, puzzled: “Plan what?”

“Counters!”

“We can’t battle if we - if we don’t figure out how to do something first.”

“We need to plan.”

“Otherwise we’ll end up failing and losing, and we’d have to start over again.”

“Yup.”

“It’s to save time.”

“Yup.”

Save time... Save time...

Drayden tilted his head: “Save time for what?”

“For battling.” Emmet repeated.

Ingo twisted the pen in his hand: “We don’t get many occasions.”

Well... As open-minded as he might have been, that sounded a little silly.

It really wasn’t the hardest thing in the world, trying to find someone to train with. There were plenty of over-enthusiastic juvenile trainers running about cities and routes, anxious for any chance at a good battle against anybody who happened to meet their impatient eyes - as a matter of fact, he was fairly certain that if they’d taken a stroll down the park instead of staying cooped up in their room it wouldn’t have taken long at all for them to find an opponent each. Hell, if they spent just thirty minutes there they would probably get their schedules all filled out with battledates from other eager kids.

Were they scared of something? Or were they just particularly sore losers? The younger might have, with how fussy about Eelektrik he was. He could understand not wanting to see a favorite defeated, but acting like that wasn’t going to do him any favours if he was looking to become a gym leader.

Why would he want to be a gym leader. He never mentioned anything about wanting to be a gym leader. Why did he think that. This wasn’t the time to think about successors. Stop that. Bad Drayden. Bad.

“So you two haven’t found a moment to practice at all till now?” he asked.

The twins held his gaze for a moment as their heads timidly retreated into their shoulders like those of Tirtougas before their eyes fell on the bedsheets.

It took him another moment for it to click.

Ah.

His sister had always been fairly irritable when it came to battling, after all.

Of course she’d dictate whether or not they’d be allowed to best her.

Or even at least try to.

And he didn’t really know what that hack of her husband was like, but certainly he wasn’t a shining example of fairness either.

He clapped his wide hands gently, quietly, just to get the boys’ attention back on himself: “Well,” he commented in a jovial tone, “I reckon you should have all the time you might need to do what you want nowadays, wouldn’t you say?”

He looked at the words being processed in real time on the twins’ faces.

A moment more...

Oh.

Oh! Yes.

Yes, they did.

They could practice, now.

Whenever they wanted. Or almost, at least - there would be times when they wouldn’t, due to force majeure, like homework or meals or sleeping or other things, but - they could practice. They could train.

Whenever they wanted.

“You should get some exercise yourselves too,” Drayden noted, “You’re all skin and bones, poor knuckerlings. But nothing some wrassling and good food can’t fix. I can help with that too, don’t worry.”

“Too?” Ingo repeated. “As- as in you - we can, we could train our Pokémon with you? Too?”

“Wrassle?” echoes instead Emmet. “We wrassle?”

“Yes one and yes two.”

If they’d been a little meatier, they would have tackled him right off the bed and into a possible concussion on the floor with that hug. So on one hand, good; on the other, since he barely even budged, he needed to start scheduling regular sessions for them as soon as possible. With the first one today, hopefully.

He picked them both up effortlessly, their langly legs dangling a few inches from the floor: “So! You wanna try out some of those counters now?”

His ears rung for a hot second from their response.

“And then we wrassle you?” the younger insisted.

“Sweet Dragons, not me! I’d knock you clean out!” their uncle replied, hoisting them up on his shoulders like sacks of flour so he could fetch their notebook and Pokéballs while they dangled up there safe from danger: “Fraxure’s gonna show you the basics!”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” the eldest argued.

“If it were, I don’t think the Lophiris family would’ve survived as long as we did!”

[alwritey-aphrodite]

A Confession of Sorts

Chapter 12 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I feel like they’ve been yearning for years… maybe a little while longer

You spend the next morning as an anxious mess.

After confirming to meet Poe around lunchtime, you immediately shut off your phone and went to bed, even though you spent what felt like hours tossing and turning and begging for sleep. Eventually, you drift off, your dreams full of rejection and eternal loneliness.

You know it’s silly to be nervous, but your hands still shake as you get ready, even as you’re tugging on your coat and beginning your freezing walk to the bakery Poe wanted to meet at.

Despite the cold and the fluttering snowflakes, you enjoy your walk. It gives you time to distract yourself with softer thoughts, like planning gifts for your friends and decorations for your apartment, like wondering if the snow will stick or melt. Even though Thanksgiving just passed and it’s still technically autumn, you’ve decided that it’s winter.

You’ve just about fully planned your winter apartment decor when you make it to the bakery and see Poe seated at a small table, and his eyes light up when he sees you walk through the door after looking up at the sound of the bell. He’s wearing a beanie and a chunky sweater and you just about lose your mind because how is it far that he can look so adorable while you’re an anxious mess?

If only you knew he was thinking the same thing about you and your hand-knit scarf and thick coat, snowflakes sticking to your hair.

“Hi,” you say as you approach him, keeping your voice down in the intimate shop, couples and groups crowded at nearby tables.

“Hi,” he repeats, and soon you’re both just standing there, unsure of what comes next and who moves first.

“You want something to drink, your usual?” He asks, already taking a step towards the counter.

“Yeah, that… that would be perfect.” You sink into your seat, a bit stunned that he knows what you order, your heart an absolute riot in your chest.

Poe returns a few minutes later, your drink in hand, brushing off both your thanks and your attempts to pay him back. For a few minutes, everything is peaceful, the two of you simply sitting together, chatting idly while the snow falls outside.

“Are you upset with me?” Poe finally asks the question that’s been weighing him down for weeks, too nervous for an answer to ask it before. You sputter and almost choke on your drink in surprise.

“Of course not,” you reassure him, reaching across the small table to squeeze his hand, “I promise.”

“Ok,” he nods and smiles, a relieved smile, “it just seemed like you were avoiding me for a bit, that’s all.”

“Well… I was, but not because of anything you did, I promise!” You hold your hands up in a strange attempt to keep him calm when his eyes drop, a frown forming on his lips.

“Why?”

“Because I kissed you? And that was weird of me to do?”

“Oh… right.” He responds, as if that event wasn’t nearly as earth shattering for him as it had been for you. “I mean, it was an accident. No harm done.” And then he smiles that brilliant smile of his, and you’re knocked off your feet.

He’s right, once you stop to think about it; it was a complete accident, a silly mistake that you could have laughed about if you hadn’t freaked out and run for the hills. Still, you’re glad that everything is cleared up now, and you no longer have to worry about Poe secretly hating you.

“Good,” you smile, feeling lighter than you have in weeks, because everything really is ok. It’s still snowing when you’ve finished your drinks, the flakes falling fat and steady, swirling around before meeting the ground and sticking to it. It’s picture perfect winter weather, if you remain inside.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Poe asks, already standing from his chair and wrapping a thick scarf around his throat.

“In this?” You respond, glancing out the large windows, even though you’re following suit and standing from your chair, tugging your hat back on your head.

“Mh-hm.” He nods with a smile, so once you’ve both bundled up, he leads you from the cafe and out into the snow.

When you step outside, it’s like stepping into a snow globe. Your quaint little city has been transformed into the set of a Hallmark movie, complete with twinkly lights and swirling snow. It all seems a little too perfect, but you want to enjoy the snow while you can, before it turns to slush and the world turns grey and leaving your house becomes a chore.

Poe grabs you by the hand, leading you down the snowy streets. You aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but you’d follow him anywhere.

Even so, after a few minutes of aimlessly walking, after your nose has started to feel like it’s going to fall off, you ask, “Where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Poe shrugs, squeezing your hand gently, “just wanted to walk with you.”

Suddenly, you’re warm all over, you can barely even feel the chill of the air, can barely feel the freezing cold snowflakes landing on your eyelashes. For a moment, you think about pausing and pulling Poe into a hug, to feel more of that warmth, but instead you settle for squeezing his hand in return.

After wandering through the falling snow for a few minutes longer, Poe pulls you to a stop near a park bench, brushing off the seat to keep your clothes from becoming cold and wet. You sit close to him, telling yourself it’s just because you’re cold.

“You know about our holiday traditions, right?” Poe asks you after a few minutes of enjoying the picturesque scenery in comfortable silence.

“I’ve heard bits and pieces from Rose over the last year,” you tell him, turning your attention fully to him.

The way he looks with his cheeks ruddy from the cold and snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes takes your breath away.

“Well, a couple’a days before Christmas, we all get together - you’re coming this year?” He pauses, waits for you to nod before continuing, “we get together, probably at Rose’s place, and we do the whole gift exchange, big dinner, holiday movies type of thing.”

“And we always do it early because Rose takes Rey to spend the real holiday with her sister’s family. And Finn always comes over to my place Christmas Eve, and my dad comes up, and it’s really a causal thing, but it’d mean a lot to me if you’d want to stop by for an hour or two.”

Poe’s rambling, spilling any word that appears in his brain because he can’t stand the idea of silence right now, can’t possibly entertain the idea that you’d turn him down after how long it took him to gather the courage to ask you. Really, he knows that it would be alright for you to politely decline his invitation, but his heart might just break a little.

“That sounds great,” you tell him, stopping his babbling with a grin and the gentle way you set your hand on top of his. Really, you want to get up and scream with joy, but that would only make you seem crazy, not only to Poe but to the people hurrying past. So instead, you settle for what you deem the more appropriate response.

“Perfect,” Poe grins in return, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a prettier sight. “You ready to walk back? My hands are starting to freeze,” he chuckles, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

“Let’s go,” you stand from the bench, holding your hand out for Poe to grab on to. It takes him a moment of simply staring at your outstretched hand before he takes it, and the two of you begin your walk back to the cafe.

As you walk, you and Poe talk about nothing and everything. You talk about work, about your favorite parts of the holidays, about Finn and his good natured meddling. It’s wonderful to finally catch up with him after all of the time you’ve spent anxiously wondering whether Poe hates you or not. It’s nice to have a definite answer, to quiet your brain and just enjoy the moment.

The snow has slowed down, drifting gently towards the Earth in dramatic swirls and flourishes. The snow, and Poe by your side, almost make the cold worth it. Still, you’re thankful when you finally reach the warm glow of the cafe again, and you’re even more thankful when Poe offers to give you a ride back to your apartment.

That familiar peacefulness of Poe’s car overtakes you, and it’s better than you’d remember to simply sit and bask in the comfortable silence, the gentle sounds of the radio and the snowflakes falling against the windshield. You and Poe are mostly silent, but you’re just happy to be near him, to share the same space with him again.

When you exit, he plants a kiss on your forehead, pulling away with a cheeky smile and a “To avoid any mishaps.” Your mouth drops open in shock, but then he’s giggling, and Poe’s laughter is the most infectious noise on the planet, so soon the two of you are sitting in his parked car in front of your apartment building, doubled over with laughter.

After a few minutes, you pull it together enough to say one last goodbye before exiting the car, rushing into the building against the cold. Once you're safely inside and feel the warm air rushing over you, you turn to wave at Poe, who’s already waving back. With one last grin, you turn away and head up to your apartment.

Your own apartment feels brighter, feels warmer, upon your return, almost as if the imaginary weight Poe had lifted from your shoulders has made your whole life lighter. Changing into comfortable clothes, you turn on some festive music and set about making your apartment holiday ready.

Lights and garland get strung around, and you add deep red and forest green throw pillows onto your couch, throwing some thick blankets on the back of it for good measure. You don’t stop until your whole apartment has been transformed, making sure even your bathroom and studio get some festive decor.

Now, with everything all decorated, you finally feel ready for the season, ready to soak up time with your loved ones in warm living rooms, in front of fireplaces, and crowded in kitchens. You’re sure some sort kf outdoor adventure awaits you as well, feeling certain that Rose will drag you ice skating at least once.

Once you’re confident that you apartment has gotten a full dose of holiday cheer, you turn off the festive music you’d been playing and settle onto your couch to watch whatever cheesy, made-for-TV holiday movie that’s currently playing. Glancing down at your phone, you notice a text from Rose, sent to the groupchat.

Our little extravaganza will be Dec 20 at my place! No Secret Santa or White Elephant because some of us are too immature for that - so just bring something small for everyone if you feel so inclined!! And some snacks because I don’t feel like doing all the cooking :)

You send a thumbs up, and mentally set about planning for everyone’s gifts while you let the movie play, tuning in and out of the storyline.

It’s not my fault not everyone can appreciate my gifts

It’s Finn who replies, after everyone’s confirmed Rose’s plan, and you’re not even a little bit surprised that Finn’s the one who ended the secret gift exchanges. He’s full to the brim with youngest sibling energy, an agent of unending love and chaos. You’re beyond lucky to call him your friend, even as you sit shaking your head at the playful argument he’s started.

It doesn’t take you very long to decide on gifts for Rey and Rose, and you know that Finn would be happy with absolutely anything you gave him. Poe, however, causes you some trouble.

You want to get him something meaningful, something he’ll truly love, but you don’t want to come on too strong. It’s a struggle to determine what would be too revealing of a gift to get, because you’re not ready to have all of your cards on the table yet, but you still want to show him how much you care about him.

It takes you a few more hours and two more cringey Christmas movies, until you’re snug in your bed and trying to drift off, to think of the perfect gift for Poe. Quickly, you jot your idea down on your phone so you don’t forget it as you sleep, and you feel more relaxed than you have in weeks.

Tags: @disabledameron @andromeda-dear @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @aellynera @creatively-analytical @tiquinntheghost @luckynachos @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22 @poopirate @loonymagizoologist @stvnnie @campingwiththecharmings @outmodead @welcometostayingawake

[vasito-de-leche]

Ngl I adore the way you write Dj subatomic

Would you be down to do hcs of him as a dad?

;NSR DJSS - Parent Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis about DJ Subatomic Supernova as a father and dealing with parenthood.

glad you like it! I'm still working veeeeery slowly on the other love languages posts, but I lost steam halfway thru, so I'm procrastinating those by answering this one lolol

i'll leave the details as to how he becomes a father up to y'all, since i dont rlly care abt those specifics - adoption, biological kids, etc, up to yall!

DJSS never really considered starting a family nor having children.

As someone who priotizes his work first and foremost, having a family - let alone children who require attention 24/7 - just isn't a possibility in his book, DJSS considers it a setback rather than an ideal lifestyle. So fatherhood is something that's thrown at him and catches him by surprise, if that makes sense. I can only see him accepting such responsibility if it's the only option available, if there's absolutely no one and nowhere else the child can go to.

Once again, he's an outlier when compared to the other Megastars. They have themes of unity, bonding with others and different types of families, not just the nuclear family example: the Sayu Gang have each other, Yinu's parents are a huge an important part of her life, 1010 act as a unit and, whether you see Neon J as their parental figure or not, he's still responsible for them in a way. Eve connects with like-minded artists and her fans, Tatiana connects with the megastars, Vinyl City as a whole and Eve herself. Even DK West is here by virtue of being Zuke's brother. DJSS is just there, all alone.

I like to think that the time he spent working as a teacher had a big impact on him, growing disillusioned overtime with not only his passions but the concept of community - the current DJSS doesn't really see a point in nurturing any sort of relationship that isn't transactional nor profitable.

Some characters worry about being good parents and influences, some worry about their economic situations not being enough to support a child, and so on and so forth. DJSS simply doesn't care about any of that, he's got a stable life and is confident in his skills (at the very least, confident in his ability to learn how to care for a child pretty quickly). He just... never considered the idea of being a father.

Whether the kid is a boy or a girl or anything else, he doesn't care. He has no preference. The only opinion he has relates to the amount of kids he'll allow - which is one. The less kids running around, the better.

Treats parenthood like a job, basically. DJSS appears to be a neglectful parent on the outside, but is very attentive to his kid's needs.

There is always a sense of distance and a layer of feigned indifference when it comes to his very scarce relationships, this is no different.

During the first years, DJSS makes a point to treat his role as a father like a job - it's how he tackles things, seeing them as tasks to solve. His approach can be easily read as him being uninterested, maybe even neglectful - at least to outsiders. DJSS has cultivated quite the reputation, being a polarizing figure to the public and all, so the fact that he has a child certainly doesn't sit well with those who exclusively see him for being arrogant and irresponsible.

He's very private about this aspect of his life, ignoring any questions about his child or his struggles as a parent. It's easy to assume he just doesn't care at all.

Those who DO know DJSS are fully aware of his dedication, his work ethics might be unorthodox and only make sense to him but damn if he doesn't get the job done. The reason he can act so casual is because of the work he puts in behind the scenes, multitasking a hundred different things to ensure the kid is fully cared for. After all, the happier this kid is, the less troublesome they'll be.

I imagine that during the first years, he provides for the child without getting himself directly involved. If they show interest in something in particular, like dinosaurs for example, DJSS won't take them to any exhibits but he will buy them encyclopedias and leave documentaries on for them to watch. If they need interaction and friends, he'll set up weekly playdates with Yinu (if she's not too old) - maybe even let the other Megastars babysit his kid. They've all probably pestered him about bringing his kid to work just so they can meet them, finding babysitters isn't a problem.

Once again, distance. DJSS doesn't want his career to end so suddenly just because he has to take care of a human life. Until he finds his footing and comes to term with being a father, DJSS resorts to finding people who are properly equipped to care for the kid when needed, all while he ensures that all of their needs are met without directly stepping in.

He becomes very perceptive to his kid and any changes in their behaviour, being able to tell if they've had a bad day or if they're hiding something from him just from a few glances. DJSS makes sure to be informed about his kid's friends, their passions and hobbies, likes and dislikes... All so he can nudge them in the right direction or give them advice in his own subtle way.

I want to insist that this isn't a case of an unloving father who purposefully ignores his child. It's more so an issue of properly connecting and bonding with each other. DJSS knows them like the back of his hand, but only the things he's been able to gleam and observe - and his child? They wouldn't be able to tell you HIS favorite color. And yet they both care about each other in their own way. It's a very one-sided, complex family dynamic.

Contrary to popular belief, DJSS would not want to be his kid's teacher. But their education is still very important to him.

Does he have a lot of things to say about the current education system? Yes. Does he think he could do a better job than every single teacher in Vinyl City? Absolutely, his ego is big enough for that.

But when it comes to his kid's education, DJSS understands that he's been a little out of touch with the basics. He didn't get a degree to be an elementary or highschool teacher, after all.

While he can't pick them up from school or attend every single parent-teacher meeting, DJSS makes a point of meeting all of his kid's teachers to ensure they're taking their jobs seriously and also keeps up with the curriculum - just in case his kid has any trouble with homework. Part of him does want them to have great grades, as otherwise would reflect poorly on him, but at the end of the day, DJSS would want them to do their best, to learn out of a genuine sense of curiosity.

I can see DJSS and his kid having study sessions, in which he casually complains about all the new things that he "should know about" like the old man he is, but feeling a surge of pride whenever his kid corrects him - something about seeing himself in them and whatnot. If they end up becoming interested in his own field of work, he'll be SO smug and happy about it.

Let's be honest, his kid is bound to have at least some interest in something space-adjacent given... Well, their father being a literal black hole and astrophysicist. It would be suuuuper funny to me if his kid became interested in astrology instead during their rebellious teens, just to spite him. Either way, if they choose something else entirely, he'll support them (after some nagging like "are you SURE that's what you want?" etc).

Maybe this is the way he could properly bond with his kid, while also rekindling his love for teaching and letting go of some bitter old habits and views.

DJSS is the type of parent who really starts to connect with his kid once they grow up, when the passage of time hits him all at once and he worries about them not being close.

Somehow, it's easier to DJSS to deal with a rebellious teenager or a struggling young adult than dealing with a child or toddler.

Probably one of the very few characters who can stand having a sassy kid who talks back or drops the most devastating comebacks ever - he can't complain there, they picked up that attitude directly from HIM, he can tell. They've absolutely heard him talk down to NSR staff and anyone who pisses him off.

I get the feeling he and his kid would banter a lot, growing closer while struggling to find ways of being vulnerable around each other - because another thing that his kid gets from him is that lingering distance. They're probably used to independence, to doing things on their own and not ask for help unless strictly necessary because that's exactly DJSS' own modus operandi.

So it's all awkward, baby steps towards progress. But the second DJSS and his kid become besties, it's absolutely OVER for everyone else. Everyone in NSR knows better than to try and out-sass them when they're together.

Expect a lot of debates, just a lot of them about anything and everything. Either for shits and giggles, to discuss theories or really in-depth stuff. People often assume they're arguments because of how seriously he and his kid seem to take it, but it's all in good fun.

Personally, as combative and defensive DJSS can be when it comes to subjects he's passionate about (or because of his pettiness), I don't see him being the type to ever argue with his kid. At this point, he's fully come to terms with his role as their dad. If there's anyone worth listening to on this side of the universe is his kid. Had it been anyone else, he would've just walked out the door and ignored them, but that's his kid. Their opinion is important to him.

And here's a random assortment of headcanons I don't have enough to expand on!

DJSS is absolutely the type of parent who gloats and brags about anything his kid achieves to every single other parents in the vicinity. He might have a hard time being verbally and physically affectionate with his kid, but damn if he doesn't love talking everyone's ears off about their achievements.

He doesn't take many photos nor have any dedicated albums to them as a family, but he 100% saves all of their tests and essays and homework and drawings.

Has a lot of small tapes recorded throughout the years for his kid. These range from sneaky recordings of them as a kid babbling about silly things, him reading bedtime stories to them when they were young, heartfelt apologies or speeches that he never got the courage to say outloud, retellings of specific events like their first failed exam, their first broken bone, their first trip somewhere... Or very domestic things like grocery shopping lists, etc etc. He's dramatic and extra like that.

Least likely to threaten his kid's romantic partner to treat them right or else. DJSS trusts their judgement. However, expect to be blacklisted from any NSR-owned facility and store within Cast Tech should you break his kid's heart.

I like to think that his kid calls Eve "Auntie" and that she's the only one within NSR to get that special treatment, since I HC DJSS and Eve as besties <3. She's also the one to save them from DJSS' fashion sense cause he thinks it's perfectly fine to wear shorts in the middle of winter.

DJSS is entirely indifferent about their preference for EDM or Rock, that's their business. But he would love to be involved when/if his kid starts to dabble in music.

DJSS does have space-themed nicknames for his kid, but he's worried about being cringe so he only uses them whenever his kid isn't within earshot. He couldn't care less about random people hearing him use these nicknames and whatnot, but as much as he denies it, he wants his kid to think he's cool.

[stray-kids-react]

Shy s/o doesn't think they deserve them

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° He loved your shy personality, he just wanted to cuddle and praise you all day long. Even though you are a naturally soft person, that also comes with a lot of insecurities.

° Your boyfriend is a hot aussie leader with a heart of gold who fans call daddy, you can't but feel that you don't deserve such a God like boyfriend. And he can see it bothers you.

° Chan is a sweet heart who will check in on you as often as he can even with his busy schedule, he knows having an idol boyfriend can be stressful and he wants to comfort you.

° Felix was baking brownies, which you usually helped him out with even if it is just to cheer him on as he does his thing. But both of the aussies noticed your missing presence.

° Chan waltzed up to his studio, where you often hung around when you were at the dorms. Once he walked inside he noticed your figure curled up in a chair.

° You were scrolling through some messages that were sent to you via Instagram. None of the messages were pleasant, and Chan's heart broke as he read the truly gruesome ones.

"Maybe they are right. Maybe I don't deserve you." you sighed, slumping back.

"Don't say that, you are a beautiful person inside and out who I couldn't survive without." He reassured, taking your phone away as he cuddled into you.

Lee Know

° Minho always liked you since you first met during the shoot of hellevator. He was pretty obvious with his fondness of you, but you never believed that he could like you.

° Later on once you began dating, he soon realized how low your self confidence truly was. So he made a promise to himself to try and increase it as much as he can.

° Many fans would threaten you for 'taking Minho away', but Minho would shred the letters before you could see how many there truly were. He knew it would hurt you.

° Minho is very affectionate towards you and likes to show you his love through touch. Whenever you seem down, he will cover your face in small pecks until you begin to smile.

° Has seen how come fans and staff treat you, pushing you around and telling you that you aren't worth his time. Minho took it into his own hands and protected you from them.

° He doesn't like seeing you upset or feel like a burden to him, especially since you are so special to him. Minho asked Chan and JYP if he could take at least a week off, they said yes.

"You didn't have to take a week off just for me, I am okay with your schedule." You explained, ruffling his hair.

"I know you're okay with it, but I needed to get away just for a while. And I miss you everytime you're not with me." He replied, gently placing a kiss to your head.

Changbin

° Will do anything to make you see for at least a second how important you truly are to him, he usually sends you hearts and does an adorable aegyo voice when talking to you.

° When you first began to hang out, you were very distant and almost never said a word. Changbin wanted to get to know you, so he constantly made efforts to befriend you.

° Once you opened up you Changbin, he noticed how self conscious and self critical you were of yourself. His confusion as to why you hate yourself only grew stronger.

° Every morning when you both get out of the shower, he will stand you in front of the mirror and poke every feature on your body saying that it is gorgeous and perfect.

° Likes knowing that you feel comfortable around him and that you have him to go to when you are feeling down. He wants to always be there for you and support you.

° Won't admit it to you, but he once teared up while you were asleep because he picked up a hate letter that was directed at you and he was worried that you read it.

"Your eyes, stunning. Your tummy, adorable. Your ears, cute. Your lips, kiss able. Your butt, squishy. Your shoulders, gorgeous..."

"Binnie you have five minutes before dance practice, you should really get going now."

Hyunjin

° Hyunjin is known to be a visual God in all of kpop, even though he is also VERY talented. Many people have a crush on Hyunjin, and you happened to be one of the many.

° His personality was addictive to be around, his looks were God like, and his talent was insane. Thus making it harder and harder for you to see how much he truly adored you.

° You saw yourself on totally different levels, you alwere at a ten while he was in the thousands. Your thoughts always doubting a scenario where you two would date.

° Assuming Hyunjin was just being nice to you, it became very hard for Hyunjin to clue you into that fact that he liked you. Everyone knew this except for you it seemed.

° Jisung, being a close friend to both Hyunjin and yourself. Took it upon himself to try and arrange a way for you to not be so self critical and completely oblivious.

° The next afternoon, you walked into the dance practice room which was now turned into a full on romantic dining area. Shocked as you saw Hyunjin with a rose in his hand.

"Is this for me? It can't be... There must be some sort of mistake or-"

"No mistakes, I've liked you for a while and thought I was being obvious enough. But Jisung told me that I should simply confess."

Han

° You and Jisung have been dating for a while, and you watched proudly as Stray Kids gained more and more popularity as they deserved, since they are talented kings.

° The hate comments sent towards you, and the jealous fans or occasionally staff members and idols. Those never used to bother you, but they became more frequent.

° This slowly picked away at your already small amount of confidence, over thinking everything you do or ever did. And Jisung began to notice your distressed state.

° After a performance he went up to you back stage and leaned in for a kiss, when you barely responded to it and looked around the room nervously, his heart twisted sadly.

° Jisung took you to an unoccupied dressing room, and locked the door behind you. He cupped your cheeks gently as he rested his head against yours. A small sigh escaping him.

° You felt all of the built up sadness and anger rise out of you, as tears slowly sprinkled down your cheeks. Your hands clinging onto his back as he embraced you.

"Shh shh shh, it's okay. Just let it all out, it'll be okay. I'm here for you, you know that."

"I'm sorry, I just felt like I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have been so distant, their words just really hurt."

Felix

° Felix knew it was going to be a bumpy ride seeing as he is under a huge company and his band is very popular, but he was willing to go through all of that with you.

° You and Felix were best friends before you started dating, he knew you were shy and quite distant when it came to people. He started to find it cute after a couple years.

° JYP himself has criticised you for interfering with his idols's lives. Even though you didn't interfere and honestly helped Felix calm down throughout the schedules.

° Felix was disappointed by some fo the fan's toxic behavior towards you, knowing that those types of comments will stick with you for quite sometime. You made him happy and he wished others would see that.

° The other members and artists under JYP saw you as part of the big jyp family, but even their support couldn't stop the sadness that brewed as more hate letters were sent.

° You didn't want to stress your already overworked boyfriend, so you tried to find a quiet spot to cry in. But Felix knew you too well, and knew where you would hide.

"I'm okay Lix, I don't want to stress you out since your already on a hectic schedule today. I'll be fine I swear."

"I won't leave until I know for a fact that you are okay, the practice can wait. You need me right now and I'm going to be here for you."

Seungmin

(He looks so cute! I couldn't help myself lol)

° You were also a beloved idol, and many eoopel actually found your relationship with Seungmin quite adorable. You felt lucky that there wasn't so much hate directed at you.

° Even though you both seemed to have it easy compared to other idol couples, you couldn't help but feel insecure when Seungmin treated you like a queen/king.

° Many fans of yours knew that off stage you are an adorable shy bean, but no one except for Seungmin knew why you would become so shy and distant towards others.

° Your shyness came from extreme anxiety and self image issues. You never had much confidence, and Seungmin made many goals to try and bring your confidence up.

° One day after a hard performance, you sat in front of your dressing room mirror and let your tears slide down your cheeks silently. Letting your anxiety take over everything.

° Seungmin walked in with a box of celebration cupcakes, only to have hsi smile fade once he saw the tears rushing down your features. He felt his heart sink.

"I'm sorry Seungmin. It's stupid really, but I just don't feel like I deserve you."

"Y/n, we are perfect for each other. I spoil you with love and affection because you always make me feel special and loved."

Jeongin

° You knew how beloved Jeongin was, by fans, members, idols, netizens, family... Everyone. This sent a large amount of pressure towards you once you began dating.

°Jeongin loved your quiet and calm personality, it was a nice break from the loud JYP building and Stray Kids dorms. Your shyness is what attracted him to you.

° He liked cuddling with you in your apartment, talking about nothing and everything as a random movie played in the background. It was his favorite place to be.

° You both were open with anything that was bothering you and never let something stir inside of you for too long. He wanted to be your safe haven for when you need one.

° One weekend when he was staying at your place, he noticed you seemed more quiet than usual and asked you what was bothering you. Since something clearly was.

° You snuggled into his chest as you clung onto him tighter, sighing in defeat knowing you will have to admit your feelings even though you think they seem silly.

" I feel like I don't deserve you. I mean, you are Yang Jeongin a literal angel."

"You deserve the universe and everything in it, I love you and only you. Don't put yourself down, remember how much I care about you."

[bloody-bee-tea]

Low

Inspired by this art on Twitter, even though it has nothing to do with Mingcheng.

When Jiang Cheng opens the door and comes face to face with Nie Mingjue—and only Nie Mingjue—he fights the urge to slam the door in his face.

“Where’s Huaisang?” is the first thing out of Jiang Cheng’s mouth and he scolds himself for it, for being rude like this, but Nie Mingjue just renders him stupid whenever he sees him and usually it’s Nie Huaisang’s job to make sure Jiang Cheng maintains a sliver of his sanity.

But Nie Huaisang is not here and so Jiang Cheng’s sanity flew out the window the second he laid eyes on Nie Mingjue.

It’s a problem, Jiang Cheng will admit.

“He’ll be late, but he didn’t want me to wait for him,” Nie Mingjue says with a slight grimace. “I can—wait outside?” he asks as if Jiang Cheng would honestly kick him out.

“Don’t be stupid,” Jiang Cheng grumbles and steps aside to let Nie Mingjue in. “As if I would let you just wait outside.”

He might get increasingly stupid when he’s around Nie Mingjue, which more often than not leads to him being rude, but he’s not that rude. And besides. Just because Jiang Cheng can’t form a coherent sentence when he’s around Nie Mingjue doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to look at him.

“Thanks,” Nie Mingjue awkwardly says as he steps inside and Jiang Cheng realizes that for all that he knows Nie Mingjue just as long as Nie Huaisang, he can’t say they are friends.

They know each other and they have spent an insane amount of time together but Jiang Cheng wouldn’t call them friends.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t have friends that make his heart beat wildly away in his chest and that make his stomach swoop with just the hint of a smile and that shut his higher brain function off with just a look.

“You want something to drink?” Jiang Cheng asks, walking away towards the kitchen, where he gets back to preparing the food for that evening.

They’ve been doing these movie nights for years by now, always rotating between their places, and today it’s Jiang Cheng’s turn, so he has to provide dinner while Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue bring snacks and drinks.

It’s a tested method.

“I brought drinks,” Nie Mingjue says and lifts the bag he carries in his hand. “I’m good.”

“Alright,” Jiang Cheng shrugs and tries to pretend that he didn’t just got hot under the collar watching Nie Mingjue’s biceps move like that.

He sharply turns away, but he still hears Nie Mingjue open a can and Jiang Cheng does his best to ignore the fact that Nie Mingjue is probably watching him.

That thought is not doing anything good for his heart after all.

It works for about five seconds, until Nie Mingjue decides to pull out one of the chairs from the kitchen table and sits down and then Jiang Cheng is hyper-aware of his every movement.

“You’re just going to watch me cook?” Jiang Cheng snaps, because it’s what he does when Nie Mingjue makes him nervous like this and he can see Nie Mingjue shrug from the corner of his eye.

“I doubt you’re going to let me help,” Nie Mingjue replies and Jiang Cheng sighs.

He’s right. If it’s Jiang Cheng’s turn to cook, then it’s Jiang Cheng’s turn to cook and he doesn’t actually like it if people interfere with his work.

He knows what he’s doing in the kitchen and he doesn’t need any more hands ruining his carefully set out plan.

Instead of giving Nie Mingjue a verbal answer, he simply huffs, which causes Nie Mingjue to chuckle and Jiang Cheng to die on the spot.

Someone as tall and broad and buff as Nie Mingjue has absolutely no business being this adorable too, and Jiang Cheng curses every god he knows for making Nie Mingjue this perfect.

And unattainable for him.

“Well, you’re right with that,” Jiang Cheng finally says, because he fears that otherwise he’s going to choke on all of his feelings and he tries to concentrate on the food in front of him.

He is done with most of the preparations, but Nie Mingjue is a little bit early and so Jiang Cheng didn’t actually yet get to the cooking part of dinner.

“You mind if I stay here?” Nie Mingjue asks him suddenly, as if he didn’t already sit down anyway and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“Bit late to ask that now, huh?” he gives back but then he shrugs. “I’m not actually going to ban you to the living-room and make you sit alone until I’m done or Huaisang shows up,” he then tells Nie Mingjue. 

Nie Mingjue settles a little bit more firmly into the chair, clearly absolutely ready to watch Jiang Cheng get to work on the frying and stirring part of dinner and Jiang Cheng is surprised to find that his hands are shaking.

He can’t remember the last time Nie Mingjue was watching him this intently, without any distractions around and Jiang Cheng is not dealing too well with it, it seems.

So instead of getting started immediately, Jiang Cheng takes his time to get his apron out. There’s a split second where he thinks that Nie Mingjue will make fun of him for it, and Jiang Cheng is not actually sure if he could take that, but then he shakes that off. 

The apron was a gift from his sister and there are little puppies on it and Jiang Cheng always wears it when he’s cooking. He’s not going to change that for Nie Mingjue, incoming teasing or not.

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders are already tense when he puts on the apron, but to his surprise, Nie Mingjue stays quiet. 

He dares to dart a look over his shoulder, and Jiang Cheng is surprised to see that while Nie Mingjue is still watching him, he’s also clenching his jaw and keeping quite the tight grip on his can.

Jiang Cheng frowns but he can’t bring himself to ask, doesn’t want to find out if there’s something in what he’s doing that’s upsetting to Nie Mingjue and so instead of opening his mouth, he ties his hair up.

He likes it tied up and out of his face when he actually cooks and it’s a practiced enough move that it barely takes him a few seconds to be done with it.

There’s a beat of silence when Jiang Cheng takes a breath to center himself and to sort out all the steps he has to do now in his head but then suddenly Nie Mingjue speaks up.

“I swear I’m gonna marry you some day,” he whispers, just low enough for his voice to still carry over to Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng is pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear this, but he did.

And it freezes him right up, even as he goes hot all over.

Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that his brain is shut off because he can’t form a coherent thought, but something else takes over. He turns around, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms in front of his chest, as he eyes Nie Mingjue, clearly looking much more composed than he actually feels.

Nie Mingjue’s face is white and his eyes are big and Jiang Cheng realizes that maybe he didn’t mean to say that at all.

But it’s out there now, and Jiang Cheng is actually going to roll with it.

No matter how nervous he is, and how fast his heart is beating or how sweaty his hands are and how much he’s screaming inside his own head.

“Excuse me? Don’t you think you’d have to ask me out first?” Jiang Cheng asks him and he congratulates himself on how put together he sounds.

Even though he feels like he’s going to vibrate right out of his skin with excitement.

Nie Mingjue’s eyes go even bigger at that question but he keeps quiet for a worryingly long time. Long enough that Jiang Cheng starts to shuffle his feet and he wonders if it’s too late to cite an emergency and simply run out on Nie Mingjue.

Before Jiang Cheng can decide to do that though, Nie Mingjue moves.

He slides off the chair and before Jiang Cheng can panic that maybe he isn’t doing well and this is a medical emergency, Nie Mingjue goes down on one knee.

Then, Jiang Cheng panics for entirely different reasons.

“Mingjue,” he gets out, his voice now definitely coloured with panic but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“Wanyin,” he says, and Jiang Cheng breathes just a little bit easier when he hears the slight tremor in Nie Mingjue’s voice. “Will you go out on a date with me?” Nie Mingjue asks him and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to realize that it’s not actually the marriage question, like he feared.

But it seems to be a moment too long.

“What the fuck is happening here?” Nie Huaisang suddenly says from the doorway and Jiang Cheng jerks at hearing his voice.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t fare much better, because he shoots upright fast enough to nearly topple over his chair.

“I leave you alone for five minutes, to give you time to figure out your shit and you propose?!” Nie Huaisang screeches and this whole scene is ridiculous enough that Jiang Cheng starts to laugh.

It seems to dissipate the tension entirely, because even Nie Mingjue chuckles, while Nie Huaisang continues to look scandalised.

“No one proposed, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue finally says, but he can’t quite seem to bring himself to look away from Jiang Cheng. 

“You were down on one knee!”

“It was situational,” Nie Mingjue tries again, still looking at Jiang Cheng, who is slowly blushing with having Nie Mingjue’s attention for so long. “I was actually asking him out.”

“And what did he say?” Nie Huaisang asks and he sounds so eager that Jiang Cheng has to laugh.

“I didn’t say anything, cause then my boyfriend’s annoying younger brother ruined the moment,” he says, keeping his eyes on Nie Mingjue, too, and so he sees the moment the words register with him.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Nie Mingjue asks and it only takes him two steps to cross the room and put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s waist.

“Boyfriend,” Jiang Cheng nods, trying to sound much more firm than he feels, because his heart is definitely trying to beat right out of his chest at the moment and he feels jittery with happiness.

“I like how that sounds,” Nie Mingjue lowly says and he leans down, brushing his lips over Jiang Cheng’s cheek.

“You better,” Jiang Cheng gives back, angling his head to give Nie Mingjue better access. “Because there’s no getting rid of me now.”

“As if I would ever want to,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and then finally, finally claims Jiang Cheng’s lips in a kiss.

“Is this what I get for plotting this?” Nie Huaisang asks from somewhere behind them and he sounds so thoroughly scandalized that Jiang Cheng has to break the kiss to laugh against Nie Mingjue’s lips.

“Your brother is a little pest,” he conspiringly tells him and Nie Mingjue only nods, too busy peppering Jiang Cheng’s face with kisses.

“You’re both so rude,” Nie Huaisang complains and Jiang Cheng can’t be sure, because he can’t bring himself to look away from Nie Mingjue but he thinks Nie Huaisang just stomped his foot. “Still, if one of you goes ring-shopping, I want to be asked to come along.”

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself,” Jiang Cheng tells him over Nie Mingjue’s shoulder, his hands gripping Nie Mingjue’s waist hard when he lightly nibbles on his jaw and Jiang Cheng has to admit that his knees might just give out at any moment now.

“Mh, I don’t think he is,” Nie Mingjue says into his skin. “I’m definitely going to marry you some day.”

“Mingjue!” Jiang Cheng can’t believe what he’s hearing, but he can’t deny that a tiny part of himself already wants to say yes.

He hopes the day is not too far off in the future.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[crimson-kisses]

Here is a request. Since it's Canada's birthday, can I please get Yandere Gods 1p and 2p Canada; and Yandere Goddesses Nyo 1p and 2p Canada. They're crushing on either a little nature nymph darling or a really short human darling. You can choose if you want it to be a poly-relationship or a separate one. The darling is also really shy, a mute, and semi-innocent.

I am going to go with a short human darling since I can't really write a nymph darling- Sorry for being late, love. Was sort of busy.

This is awful and so short i am sorry

Warning: Yandere themes, ignore if such content bothers or triggers you.

Canada: Matthew Williams / 2pCanada: James Williams / NyoCanada: Celementine Williams / 2pNyoCanada: Heather Williams.

Clutching the basket tightly, you walked through the trees to reach your destination quicker. A sense of dread danced on your skin although you tried to ignore it.

The feeling of dread has been following you for months by now. As if someone was watching and spying on you, which was rather confusing since you were just a mere human, a simple villager living a simple life.

A withdrawn lady who was too shy to meet up with people, a mute who didn't bother to communicate with others. Short stature which was hidden behind other's figure.

Maybe you shouldn't have withdrawn yourself much, atleast someone could help you or try to advice you to do something. To get this feeling off your chest, someone who could listen and help you.

You were nauseous and constantly looking over your shoulder, it was so exhausting to say the least. To always be on guard and never get proper rest because of your paranoia, tossing under your covers and staring out of the window.

Little did you know, things were about to change soon. The news quickly spread around that the shy, mute girl who mostly kept to herself was missing.

If anything, these four would adore you. They would find you to be utterly adorable and always fuss over you, basically being overwhelming and very protective. Most of them are obsessive in general and clingy- except for Heather, she is more on the possessive side and won’t let you out of her sight and take advantage of your shyness (as would others, although Madeline would be hesitant, as she wants you to love her willingly)

James would prefer a darling with a backbone, of course he wouldn't underestimate you because of your stature. Get ready for a lot of good hearted teasing and him trying to get you out of your shell, he would try to make you more opinionated. Because he would want your needs to be met meanwhile Matthew is selfish and won’t give you your needed space, basically suffocating you with his clingy presence. These two often get into petty arguments, as they both want different traits in their darling

“You sure you don’t want it?”, Your figure stiffened as James asked you the question with a stern expression on his face, showing his irritation about you refusing to eat the desert on the table. It was the third time he had asked that and all the time you refused, not having the appetite to eat anything. James sighed at your answer and simply shrugged, taking a bite of the chocolate cake. “You know”, the cake was shoved towards you as James said one thing or another,”you are a terrible liar”.

“James! Don’t feed her too much cake, it can be bad for her!”, you winced at Matthew’s screeching tone as he got shoved by his brother. “Shut the fuck up, let her eat if she wants to damn it...”, James murmured but his eyes narrowed in warning then he looked towards you, still clutching Matthew by his shoulder. “Go ahead, I will take care of this mother hen until then”.

“Oh my god, can you both ever get along?, how is our little maple syrup doing?”, you internally cringed at the nickname, if Matthew could be overbearing, James a bit troublesome then Heather would never shut up with her cheesy and absurd nicknames. Her raspy tone stopped the both from fighting as they glared at each other and she sneered in response. Following her was Madeline, the only one who was somewhat bearable as she gave you your space although she could be very paranoid. “Please stop fighting eh?”, and was apparently the sweetheart of the group until you came in ofc!!

Madeline and Heather would get along well tbh. Unlike Matthew, Madeline is more understanding and can control her clingy nature, she would opt to stare at you intensely instead meanwhile Heather would want you in her presence and just do her own thing, as long as you are in her sight, you would be free to do what you want- except escaping. These both could care less about molding you into their type.

There are several arguments involving you, mostly involving your mental health. Being a mortal, you could easily get hurt by them hence why they would wait until luring you in their domain and mostly manipulating you.

As I said, Matthew is selfish. He would rejoice having a darling who is so shy and mute, he would exploit these characteristics and would prefer if you are always bounded to all of them, never letting you have a moment to yourself and basically ignoring your mental health on the brink of breaking. He would explode of you keep on refusing him faster than the others, who are far more patient than him.

James is more chill and often gets annoyed at Matthew’s bitch ass unwanted paranoia, dude could use a weed and shut the hell up for once. Ofc he is protective as well but not to an extreme extent, he doesn’t want a doll who doesn’t have their own desires. (Matthew would like that tho).

Madeline is more akin to an older sister, she doesn’t fret over too much although she can be creepy with her stalker-ish tendencies and would be paranoid about her own insecurities. But would allow you to be productive and give you your space, after all she can’t have you hating her! She holds you dear to herself, she would be devastated. Would also be the first to learn sign language for you! Also the calmest one of the bunch.

Heather, could simply not give a damn about anything and is pretty chill. She gives you more freedom and actually stands up for you (as would James, although he would prefer you standing up for yourself), she lets you do whatever as long as you are within her sight. Would quickly catch up on your semi-innocence thing too, she is observant when it comes to reading your emotions.

Honestly, nothing much would change even if you weren’t a human, only they wouldn’t be so lenient with you and would enforce some rules in place. They are an interesting bunch but somewhat tame if you compare them to others, they get well with each other and can confront each other if needed.

A/N: Not to be rude or anything but I suck at writing for Canada for some reason, I am not that much invested in his character in particular. Anyhoo hope you like this, I wanted to write a story but couldn’t.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Sleeping Vampire ー Mukami Azusa

Source: Diabolik Lovers Vandead Carnival

Seiyuu: Kishio Daisuke

Audio: Here

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

“...Aah...You finally came. I’ve been waiting for you...this whole time. I felt lonely...All by myself...”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Come on...Scoot over...Okay? Eve...Join me...”

*Rustle rustle*

“....? Why do you...seem so startled? I curled up underneath the blankets...hoping to surprise you...Is that weird...perhaps? Like this...It almost felt as if you were...holding me tightly. Do you...hate that side of me? Is that why...you looked so shocked...?”

You shake your head.

“Aah, thank god...For a second, I thought I had upset you. Right. You are kind after all...You are even willing to join me in bed like this...”

*Rustle*

“Fufu...Say, move a little closer...?”

*Rustle rustle*

“I want to feel you more...Is that too much to ask? No, you don’t mind, do you? Come on...Closer.”

You scoot closer.

“I like you...I love you. Eve...When you’re close to me like this...I feel extremely peaceful...Say, how about you....? Do you feel at ease...when I’m with you? Do you...?”

You nod.

“...Fufu, I’m happy...The two of us...really are two of the same kind...Aren’t we? That’s why we can be this comfortable...and feel warm inside...just by being together like this...This is ‘love’, isn’t it? ...Something precious I was taught by you. Say, come even closer... I’ll hold you...firmly in my arms. Strongly, tightly...Since you...love the pain...”

You close your eyes.

“Haah...Eve, you truly smell wonderful. Is it because you took a bath? No, that’s not it...This is your natural scent...This smell...For some reason, it feels very nostalgic...Say? Let me take in more of your scent...No? You won’t say...no, right?”

Azusa continues to take in your scent.

“Haah...Say, Eve...? How come you smell this lovely...? Like some sort of flower...A sweet fragrance...”

*Rustle rustle*

“I’m sorry...I’m just so happy to be together with you again, I couldn’t help myself...Did it tickle? Fufu...”

You note that he smells good too.

“...Eh? I smell good too? That’s the first time someone had said that to me...No, I’m happy. ...Very much so. Since I’ve never really...paid attention to my own scent...Since it smells nice...That means you like it...Right?”

You nod.

“Fufu...I see. While you have the chance...Go ahead and get a better whiff?”

You take in his scent.

“...And? Is it difficult to tell from the wrist...?”

*Rustle*

“Then, from the nape...Make sure you take in my scent completely, okay...? Engraving it...deep inside your mind...So you won’t forget about me...Even while we’re apart...”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Huh? You’re done already?”

You tell him you got a little embarrassed. 

“Fufu...You really are easily flustered...aren’t you? I think that side of you...is very adorable as well. Speaking of which...The other day, Kou told me that finding someone’s scent pleasant...is a sign that the two fo you are highly compatible...If he was speaking the truth...that would mean...we’re a great match, right...? Will you...believe this story?”

You agree.

“Fufu...Thank you. I want to believe it’s true too...After all, if we subconsciously feel attracted to one another...I can somewhat believe that I was born...for the reason of one day meeting you.”

*Dingー Dongー*

“...Aah, it’s already this late. It’s time for bed...”

*Creaaak*

“But...When we’re sharing the bed like this...I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep...I want to gaze at you forever and ever...Staying up the whole night...You see? I want to know...what kind of expression you make as you doze off...I want to hear the things you whisper in your sleep...Aah...I’d even love to join together...and have the same dream. Do you understand? ...To become one, and see the same dream...Laughing together underneath the clear, blue skies...or watching the same scenery, sharing the same feelings...and eating the same foods...I get excited just from imagining it...Don’t you feel...the same? You do, don’t you...? You are...my Eve after all...”

*Rustle*

“Say, what should I do....? How can I...become one with you...? Tell me...Eve, do you know how...?”

You ask for his hand.

“Eh? What...? My hand?”

You hold his hand.

“Oh...Why are you holding my hand? If I...squeeze back like this...I see...Now it makes sense. Eve, you truly are lovely...You found such a perfect solution...Say, hold my hand tigheter. Squeeze down...stronger...”

You squeeze his hand.

“Aah, I hope the two of us...will become connected like this...If we do that...No, actually...Even without doing this...It’ll be okay...I can feel it. That’s what...your warmth is telling me. Aah, but...if we fall asleep like this...we might just let go...What should we do? Aah, right...I just had a great idea too.”

*Rustle*

“ ーー If we wrap the blanket around it...Like this... 

You intervene.

“Eh? Why do you stop me...Eve? We can simply...tie our hands together like this...No? Tightly...So it definitely come loose...Do you perhaps...not like the idea of being connected like this...?”

You shake your head.

“...Then why...!? You...actually dislike me...Is that it...? ...I’m sad...Uu...”

You explain.

“Our hearts? Why do you mean by...our hearts being connected...?”

You try and explain it to him.

“That’s complicated, Eve...Say, what should I do...to understand? I want actual proof...Eve, tell me...Show me...proof of that connection. If you do...this sadness might fade away too...”

You grab hold of his hand.

“What’s wrong? Eve...Where are you...guiding my hand...”

You press his hand against your chest.

“Eh...? ...You’re right...Your heart’s racing...Beating so very quickly...Aah, I see...So this is...your love...It’s connected to my own feelings for you, isn’t it...? I’m glad...When I assumed you hated me...I suddenly started aching inside...As if my heart was thorn to pieces...But, I’m fine now...Because our feelings are connected. Haah..Shame on me...How could I be so doubtful towards you...i can’t help...but grow anxious...Because you’re Eve ー and loved by everyone. Perhaps the fact that I’m with you like this...is actuallyーー”

You stop him.

“ーー ...!? Eve...?”

You insist that Azusa is the only one for you.

“Really? Do you...promise? That you’ll be with me forever...That you will never leave me...”

You promise.

“Aah, I’m so happy...I must be extremely blessed...”

You admit to feeling happy too.

“Fufu, I’m glad...”

You yawn.

“What’s wrong? You yawned...Aah, oh no...We had to go to bed...But I enjoyed spending time with you so much, I completely forgot. Yeah, it’s very fun...Sorry. Say...Do you want to sleep already? I’d like to stay up a little longer and talk to you...”

You nod in agreement.

“...That’s okay? Thank you. You’re always so kind...I love chatting with you like this...Fufu...Aah, sorry. I just lost myself in my own happiness. Did I suprirse you? I see, I’m glad then...Say, we’re actually all alone for once...so let’s use the opportunity to talk lots more. There’s a bunch of things I want to ask you...I want to know your everything. And...I also want you to know my everything...I wonder what we should talk about...? Say, how did you spend today?”

You start explaining.

“Fufu...School? Aah, makes sense. I...attended classes today as well. But...School is boring. I mean...We can’t be together during that time...On top of that...I get scolded by Ruki for ‘having my mind somewhere else’... He nearly hit my hands with a whip...But then he stopped right there...”

You lift a brow.

“...If I wanted him to hit me, you ask? ...Wellーー No... Eve, because you told me...that you don’t want me to inflict harm upon myself...I decided to stop...thinking that way...After all, when you are sad...It hurts me too...Besides...If I try my best and refrain from hurting myself...I feel as if...you’ll stay by my side...I guess you could...it’s like a lucky charm? Say...What did you do? Tell me...”

You start telling him about your day at school.

“Fufu...I see. Girls sure...love their sweets, don’t they? I like spicy food...How about you? Do you...like spice?”

You tilt your head to the side.

“...To a certain degree...? How spicy would that be? ...It’s hard to tell.”

You elaborate.

“You can handle spicy curry? Then...I guess about one bottle of red chili pepper would be fine...?”

You start to panic.

“Eh? No? I see...So, you want more then?”

You shake your head.

“Less...huh? I really like red chili powder...So I figured you would enjoy it too...”

You frown.

“This sort of stuff is kind of...tricky, huh? I don’t think it’s spicy at all, but everyone keeps on saying me it’s way too hot...I don’t know...what ‘normal’ is...Say, you know, don’t you...? What normal is...”

You try and explain.

“I see...What is considered ‘normal’ is something very complex? ...I see, hearing you say that somehow puts me at ease. Because I often...get told that I’m strange...So I started to worry that perhaps...I really am the odd one for not knowing what is normal. I honestly...don’t mind being considered weird. But...What scares me is...being distinctively different from you. ...Right...When I look at it like that...I’m terrified...Since I won’t be able...to continue viewing us as two of the same kind...However...I’m glad. You really...are similar to me. Aren’t you?”

You smile.

“Come on, talk to me more...Tell me all sorts of things...I love both you...and your voice. All of your stories too...So...”

You seem a little surprised.

“Yeah. I enjoy your voice. I feel very cozy when listening to it. ...Like shivers running up my spine...Of course...That’s not the only part of you I like...I love you as a whole...So rest assured.”

You blush.

“...Fufu, you’re so cute, Eve. I can touch you more, right...?”

*Rustle*

“For some reason...Your body feels even warmer than before...I guess you’re actually...starting to get sleepy...?”

You ask if he is tired too.

“...I’m still fine...I want to keep on watching you forever after all...Because it is fun to observe you...”

“...I’m glad. But, when you get tired, you can sleep whenever you want, okay...? You truly are kind...for willing to keep on talking to me, Eve.”

*Rustle*

“...Hm? The wound on my finger...? ...Aah, I cut myself on the edge of a page of my textbook, that’s all...You shouldn’t worry about it, okay? It might have stung a little...but it’s fine...It’s a very light injury. If anything...I wish it would have left a deeper cut...”

You frown.

“...I’m sorry. I will never have any thoughts that would upset you. So...please don’t hate me...? Besides...I didn’t hurt myself on purpose this time...I swear, it was an accident...!”

You nod in agreement.

“...You understand? Thank god...Thank you. I don’t think I’d be able to bear...having you dislike me...I don’t want you...to leave me.”

You look at his finger again.

“...What’s wrong, Eve? Are you worried about my cut?”

You brush across the paper cut.

“Fufu, when you brush your fingertips across...It tickles a little.”

You tell him you’ll help him out.

“...A spell? ‘Pain, pain, go away...’ (1) Heeh...Those words will help the cut heal quicker, huh...?”

You seem surprised that he does not know it.

“Mmh...It’s my first time hearing it. ...You must be very knowledgeable...”

Azusa closes his eyes.

“A spell, huh? I enjoy the pain, so I don’t think you need to cast a spe...No, stop. I shouldn’t...waste your consideration towards me...should I? ...Fufu, I’m sure this cut...will heal in no time.”

You offer to cast the lucky charm together.

“...Good idea, let’s do that. Together...At the same time...Fufu...This counts as a group effort, doesn’t it...? I hope it’ll be twice as effective...But I wonder if it actually will be...? Pain, pain...go away.”

*Smooch*

“Sorry...Watching your beautiful fingers, I couldn’t help...but want to kiss them...This is my way...of thanking you...for taking away my pain. ...Did you not like it?”

You shake your head.

“Fufu...I’m glad...Besides...I wonder if the spell worked? The wound already no longer hurts...Say? ...Can I kiss you just a little more? I can’t? No...I can, right? You want to kiss me too...Don’t you?”

He leans in.

*Smooch*

“...I kissed your cheek this time...Fufu, the place I kissed...is gradually turning more red...”

You close your eyes.

“Huh...? You’re closing your eyes...? Aah, I see. You want me...to kiss you on the lips, don’t you? Don’t worry...No need to be ashamed...Nn...”

*Smooch*

“Haah...Your lips...They’re sweet...The taste of the...candy you ate at school? No, this is...different...It’s your taste, Eve...Haah...Nn...”

*Smooch*

“Fufu...Eve, you’ve got that dreamy look in your eyes...Did it...feel good? It felt...amazing for me too...I’d love...to do much more...other things too, but...Right now, I want to continue chatting with you lots more...Will you...feel the same?”

You nod.

“I’m glad...I thought that maybe you would prefer something a little more painful, however...We are one, so...I can tell what you’re thinking. I wonder if it’s okay for me to be this happen? Eh? ...Yeah, very much so...Perhaps the most blessed I’ve ever felt. ...I mean.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Without realizing, the whole blanket has started smelling like you. This sweet smell...which brings me happiness...It’s almost as if you’re holding me gently...I want to take a deep breath, and inhale all of your scent.”

*Rustle*

“Ah...Don’t move. After all...If you do that, your scent...will escape...I don’t want to let go...of even a single whiff (2). It’s all mine...”

You ask if it isn’t suffocating for him.

“Me? Honestly...I prefer wrapping the blanket this tightly...If anything, if it were even more suffocating...Aah, oh no...I can’t help but...yearn for things which bring pain or suffering...Please forgive me, Eve...”

You forgive him.

“You’ll let it slide...? I see...Thank god...I can’t help but think those things out of pure habit, you see? I’m so glad...you’re a kind-hearted person...”

Azusa yawns.

“Haah, for some reason...I’ve started getting sleepy...”

You yawn too.

“You too? Right...I mean, the two of us...are alike after all...Hmー ...But I’d still like to watch you sleep...Will you fall asleep first...? To grant...my wish.”

You nod.

“Thank god. ...Yeah, I’ll be watching. ...Until you fall into a deep slumber, the whole time...”

You frown.

“It’s embarrassing...? How so...? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re cute after all...Oh? That’s not it...?”

You try and explain.

“Girls find that sort of stuff embarrassing...? ...Is that so? That’s a little difficult for me to grasp....I wonder why...? Your sleeping expression...is very beautiful after all. Besides...It’s something I can only witness...when I’m sleeping next to you like this. In this manor, I’m the only one...who gets to see it. Right...?”

You agree.

“That’s exactly...Why I want to see it.”

You ask if he’ll rest with you.

“If I’ll...sleep with you as well? But then, I won’t be able to watch you sleep...However...If that’s what you want...I will...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Come on, I’m going to sleep too...So, Eve...Close your eyes as well?”

You close your eyes.

“Let’s...hold hands again...Come on...”

You grab hold of his hand.

“Your hand...is very soft, isn’t it? Drowning in the sensation of you amidst the darkness like this...feels wonderful...I feel as if...we’ve grown even closer...As if all walls between us have crumbled...and we’ve become one...Don’t you...feel the same way? Eve...? Hey...?”

You don’t respond.

“She fell asleep...huh? I guess...I rambled on for a bit too long...Such a cute sleeping face...Eve, I love you...Aah...If only, I could keep you here forever...However, I can’t do that, can I...? You are...the one and only Eve...and I’m just...Still, I love how you chose me regardless...

Goodnight, Eve... Sweet dreamsー...”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) 痛いの痛いの飛んでいけ or ‘itaino, itaino, tonde-ike’ is a common phrase said to Japanese children to comfort them after they’ve hurt themselves. It literally means ‘pain, pain, fly away!’. 

(2) Literally he says a single ‘piece’ or ‘shard’, but since they’re talking about scent, the term ‘whiff’ seemed more appropriate in English. 

[haifengg]

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Lucas can’t really go without affection. He needs a smooch at least before he leaves the house or when he says goodbye on dates. He wants to be reminded that their S/O loves him and that he loves them. It’s as easy as this.

B = Before (What were they like when they had a crush?) Dude would try to impress. With bad jokes. With flexing his guns. He would always ask his crush if they want to come with him and the guys to do whatever. And if they agree he wouldn’t really be able to hide his excitement. It would light a spark of pure joy in his eyes. It would be very obvious really.

C = Confession (What was their confession like?) Regardless of his looks and height Lucas still is a very childish man and he’s not that old either. I would honestly go that far and say that during his life he wasn’t the one confessing often. He usually got confessed to. So when it is actually his turn he would probably get all shy around his crush and he maybe asked Kun for advice as well on how to tell them and what to say since he is not the very best with words.

D = Date (What was the first official date they went on?) I am guessing something cheesy. Lucas may or may not be a romantic person but being all nervous about fulfilling expectations and doing a solid job he would take their S/O out to go an amusement park. He is a child really and his sometimes subtle playfulness is probably what attracts his S/O to him as well.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) Please don’t come for me on this one but I recon he would choose a text. As I mentioned in section C = Confession I imagine him being this popular kid in school everyone had a crush on at least once a week. (We’ve all seen the pics he’s adorable.) That being said he maybe got too used to dumping people interested in him. I won’t say it is the same with his S/O as it was with high school sweethearts but he might just fall back into old patterns due to convenience. Breaking up would still hurt him and still be difficult.

F = Fights (What would fights look like? What are things that upset them?) Honestly: Fights with Lucas would be a pain mainly because he doesn’t see where he’s wrong or what the issue exactly is. He is a very loyal person once fully committed but maybe not the most understanding one.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) His emotional way is very gentle. His physical way in terms of hugs and holding hands is too. Simple mind - Simple showings off affection other things we don’t discuss here it is SWF, please

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Just like Johnny his arms are insanely long and wrapping them tightly around his S/O is just way to nice to not do it constantly.

I = Intimacy (What is their favorite form of intimacy? Do they have problems with it?) He knows why he’s in SM. He got casted off the streets for his looks. He also really radiates the vibes of only being there for the fun and the people only. Lucas is very confident in the way he looks and he is aware of how many thousand people find him insanely attractive. I am pretty sure there are close to no problems when it comes to intimacy but that is something very personal because we know that everyone has at least one issue with themselves which we sometimes could never tell.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) He gets jealous. Not much but he does in general. I am not sure how exactly that would display or how he would show it but overall: Yes he does.

K = Kisses (Are they a good kisser? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) I hope he is. Okay no honestly, hear me out lmao. Lucas ... is either very excellent at kissing or he isn’t. I just look at him and I really hope he is because that would be so grate and elevate him one step closer to being the complete package. He meets the height requirements. He has the hands to hold his S/O. He surely has the lips as well. Which is also where they like to kiss/be kissed the most.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Lucas is the perfect personality type for getting along well with kids. He is goofy enough to play around with them and fun and fool but he is also calm enough to not out-child them and keep an eye on them. He is guiding their playfulness in a way only a few people can.

M = Messages (How often do they text his S/O?) He texts them A LOT when he’s bored. During practice or some random meeting he would get distracted by his phone and text them about how bored he is. Also he would often take pictures or snaps of stupid little things he wants to show them but they’re not around. Speaking of SnapChat: Filters.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Nights out in clubs are hot and fun. Nights out in bars (if they are dates) are hot. Nights out in movie theatre would be so much fun. He would totally get this slushies that turn your tongue in different Colors but would also hold his S/O during scary parts of the movie even though he’s scared himself. Acting all tough

O = Opinion (Would they ask for their S/O’s opinion a lot? How important is it in terms of decisions?) He would ask for their opinion but mainly because he thinks he has to or that they would want to be ask. If it’s about his personal matters. When it comes to mutual decisions it’s different because well of course he asks for his S/O opinion. What they say matters to him and he wants both of them to be comfortable. So when they say that sofa is ugly - it’s ugly.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Getting on his nerves is quite hard I assume. He probably would be the one getting on his S/O’s nerves (most of the time by accident tho.) If it’s something about them that actually bothers him he will be patient and ask them to maybe change that behaviour for a long time before actually admitting how much it is bothering him and eventually raising his voice.

Q = Quizzes (How does a bar trivia night teamed up with them look like?) A complete mess. Lucas once admitted he is not the smartest one and I adore people who are aware of that and own it in their own way. He would still try his best to not let his S/O and maybe other teammates down. BUT he is still an important part of the team: The one who chugs everything for the sake of the cause. IDK I just see him being able to drink a lot. He radiates this frat boy energy help

R = Remember (How much do they remember about their S/O or their relaitonship in general?) Lucas does his best but he is forgetting a lot. He writes it down in his phone. For example there could be a list for his S/O's family member’s birthdays and all their important anniversaries. He may still forget them tho. When it comes to memory Lucas knows it’s not his forté but he is trying hard.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) He is maybe one of the most protective boyfriends you will find in whole NCT. He shields his S/O from wind or rain, he corners them in crowded subways. He flags and gets in cabs first. He will shove between his S/O and other guys dancing at clubs casually so they don’t notice. He will tell people to fo k off if they are obviously bothering his S/O. He does it all.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) He might be sloppy with everyday chores but he will rather often take his S/O on spontaneous coffee dates or bring home take out aka steal something from the dorm Kun cooked.

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a S/O?) What makes Lucas unique as a S/O is definitely his awareness of his ... stupidity? Now I can see people coming for me for saying this but he once said he is not very smart and he is probably correct about that. His abilities lay more in the practical and emotional/empathic area. So what makes him special is is ability to pull his S/O’s guard down. If they come home from work super stressed he will put their mind at ease by simply talking to them about not so heavy or challenging topic. He will be their save heaven. A place where they don’t need to pretend or to impress. Lucas loves his S/O 190% for their character or quirks and maybe even for their intellect as well but he doesn’t compete with it and is real about himself.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) SO. MUHC. He has sloppy days tho but they will mostly never catch him with greasy hair or anything. And also he is in shape and plans to stay that way.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their S/O?) He would. If he is not with them for a long time he can feel how he is losing his inner center or balance. Lucas would be fine on his own but honestly exactly just fine.

X = X-Ray (How transparent are they?) Lucas is an open book. He can’t hide anything and he is so easy to fool on like April 1st or some prank they want to play on him. If he’s feeling down they’ll see it. If he’s happy they’ll know it. if he truly loves them it will be on the local news.

Y = Yuck (Everyone has flaws. What is theirs?) Bruh okay. Well. He leaves his underwear everywhere. Or his socks. and he leaves the toilet seat up.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Being asleep he grabs everything and pulls it in close. There is no escape. And I feel like he will wander towards the mid of the bed so if their S/O is avoiding being hold custody they will have no where to go but the sofa or wake him up.

Gif is not mine

Taglist

@jeonghanmoon @kpopsnowball @pocky-otp @himitsu-luna @soleilsuhh @dundun-baby

Masterlist

[suntrastar]

sink or swim

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

summary: you first meet ransom when meg drags you along to a party. everything somehow spirals from there.

warnings: swearing, smut (but like very vague smut, nothing super explicit), ransom’s general assholery

word count: 9.3k

author’s note: i hate ransom drysdale! he is a shit character! if he existed irl i would whoop his ass with NO hesitation. but i still wrote this fic because ... a bitch gets thirsty okay?? okay. and ik this is very long BUT a lot of it is dialogue so it should flow pretty fast!!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!! ily now enjoy!!! you can also read this on ao3 :)

There’s something fun about being somewhere where no one wants you, and then something shameful. 

Meg isn’t touching you, but as she drags you around her famous grandfather’s mansion in search of people to bother, it feels like she has you on an invisible leash, fastened tight over your neck. To keep you tethered to her- like a fucking dog. 

The leash hurts like it is not made of plastic or metal but instead two hands squeezing tight, wringing you dry, choking you harder and harder and bruising you purple with no remorse.

Now, she’s debating political theory with her douchebag fuck of an uncle, who almost hits you once- almost hits you twice with his cane while waving it around as he quotes Fox News-

Their voices rise. You’re the only one that flinches.

Standing awkwardly on the edge, you wonder why you are the only guest at this terrible party that looks so lost. Meg gives you a covert this-is-total-bullshit glance, and a small, pained, rehearsed smile, both of which you have to return- that’s the real reason you’re here, after all- and her uncle rants on, wholly oblivious.

You look past them both, to where one man stands by himself.

He’s leaning against the far wall, and while Meg retaliates with some of her favorite words, including audacity and bigoted and problematic, you take a sudden, intense interest in the wallpaper pattern, sweeping your eyes over the span of it, looking over the man just once.

He is staring right back at you.

All it takes is his eyes- he’s just staring, but you’re absolutely embarrassed. 

He looks rich, with too much product in his hair and a coat that looks like it cost more than your rent, with loafers that expose an uncomfortable amount of ankle and an expression that morphs into something wolfish as he starts towards you-

Before you can think, he’s joined your little circle- Meg prefers standing, so of course, everyone stands- and smiles when she glares at him. 

He isn’t looking at you anymore.

“So,” he interrupts, and his voice is so dark, “what riveting political topic are we debating tonight?”

You should call an Uber. Why did you accept Meg’s offer of a ride?

“Ransom,” Meg says sweetly, “could you just, like, fucking not?”

This is supposed to be a Christmas party, but none of these people seem to be in the Christmas spirit. Including her uncle, with his stuffy sweater set and clunky-as-hell shoes. He sputters something about young people and their profanity, and then hastily leaves. 

Without thinking, you breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. 

The man smiles wider. Unfortunately, it makes him look very handsome.

”Ouch,” he says lightly, to Meg, and turns to you.

A shiver runs down your spine. 

You hate him immediately. 

“Who are you?” he asks.

For whatever reason, the question makes Meg scoff. She shakes her head at you- a warning. Her hair flounces with the movement.

Because she doesn’t want you to, you give him your name. And then add, because your name alone seems like a title too stripped down, “I’m Meg’s friend.”

It’s hard to convince yourself to be polite, when you don’t like how he’s been looking at you- with his eyes narrowed and brown furrowed and lips parted. He gives an insufferable nod.

“Right,” he says. “The one she’s been showing off all evening.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Ransom-” Meg starts, and suddenly you are so angry, at this man for confirming what you thought was all in your head, at Meg for suddenly swooping in to save you, like she’s been waiting for it-

“I guess,” you say, and smile a little, and regret everything.

“That’s pathetic,” he says, and looks at you kindly.

 Apparently, Meg is the only one allowed to be self-righteous in her annoyance, or anger, or any other mildly passionate emotion. She doesn’t return your covert this-is-total-bullshit glance. 

So you fend for yourself.

“Well, so is this fucking party, so-”

He interrupts you with a laugh. 

It’s loud and arrogant and mirthless, and you’ll climb out of a window, find a way to walk through the walls, if it means that you’ll escape it.

“I’m just joking,” he says, pursing his lips, and the hands on your neck, ever-present, nearly crush the breath out of you. “Don’t get your panties all in a twist.”

“So funny I forgot to laugh,” you say, and instead of replying, he just looks at you.

He looks at you slowly, like he has nothing better to do, like he has time to waste. You can smell him- some cologne that’s spicy, and expensive, and Meg is staring at you in shock, like you’ve committed a crime. 

But she’s quiet.

“I’m Ransom,” he says, and raises his hands to make little air quotes, which is weirdly adorable in a way that you hate, “Meg’s ‘asshole cousin’”

“Weird name,” you say. 

You’ve changed your mind- you’re not even going to attempt to be nice.

For a second, he looks furious.

It’s attractive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Anyways, I’m about to ditch. Do you want a ride?”

How does he know you came here with Meg?

He was staring at you from the wall-

From his butterscotch-colored coat with its awful, ostensible lapels, he pulls out his car keys. The BMW logo flashes silver and blue, clashing against the gold of his pinky ring, clinking against the metal as he twirls the key ring around his finger-

For a second, you think that he’s about to toss the keys across the room and command you to fetch.

“Um,” you say, uncertainly, irritated with your own restraint, “Thanks, but Meg will-”

“Meg will what?”

He’s mocking you, and there is no one to come to your rescue. 

Hesitantly, like she has to think twice about it, Meg opens her mouth to say something. What is her problem? What is your problem? Why are you treating her like she is your saving grace? 

You talk before she gets the chance. “Okay, yeah. A ride would be great.”

***

Ransom offers because he likes your face.

You’re better-looking than the girls that Meg usually brings along to these parties, or maybe his standards have fallen- he isn't sure. Does it really matter? Even though he’s been looking at you all night, even though he’s positively thrilled to have you in his car, he’s not going to try anything.

There’s something desperate in your eyes that compels him against it.

You inhale sharply when he turns left. 

“You forgot your turn signal,” you say, and he kind of likes how you chastise him, not angrily or even upset, but just exasperated-

How is someone like you friends with someone like Meg?

“Don’t worry about it,” he says lightly, and the tired glare you give him is enough to make his entire week.

Now that he thinks about it, his mother is always on his case about things like this- compassion and civility and basic human decency, and how he lacks it all, but what about now? He’s taking a miserable girl to her home, simply from the goodness of his own heart, with no strings attached. 

This is such a good deed- this is like charity.

His mother is also always telling him that he’s severely, almost clinically narcissistic.

He definitely is, but again, does it matter?

“So, what do you think about my family?” he asks, making a big, dramatic show of using his turn signal before swerving right, feeling too pleased when you smile. 

He steals a glance at your knees and somehow feels guilty.

He’ll have to do something about that.

“They’re pretty... lively,” you say hesitantly, and he’s suddenly hating the dark, this stupid fucking night- he’d like to see you better.

“Lively,” he repeats, and barks out a laugh. “They’re fucking crazy.”

You laugh, too, a real one- off-kilter, and too loud- none of that artificial shit he heard at the party. Nothing meant to please.

“I was definitely thinking that,” you say. He catches you looking at his hands, but boldly, you don’t look away. “I just didn’t want to be rude.”

“Now you’re worried about being rude?”

“I’m in a car with a strange guy I’ve never met before, so yeah.”

You’re smiling but look uncomfortable, and then afraid.

All bark and no bite- you’ve been talking all this talk, when really, he realizes, you’re so washed-out, so faint, like the bare sliver of moon out in the sky, the same weak moon he’s been cursing out. The same stars, too- you are just as scattered.

You look pretty.

“Are you scared?”

He keeps his eyes on the road because he thinks you’ll snap at him if he doesn’t. Not like anyone drives out here anyway- not like he can’t pay off a ticket or two or five-

“Should I be?”

There is something so delicious about this moment, with you starting to worry- he can’t look at the road anymore, not when he can watch your throat bob as you swallow instead, and it still feels so violating, but so good. 

“Nope,” he says, and you startle when you hear him say it, and he has to bite his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “No need.”

“Great,” you say, and go quiet. 

When he pulls up to your apartment complex, not too far from where he lives, he holds his mouth in check. He could say so many things right now, but for you, he restrains himself.

You have your bag in hand, seatbelt off. From the streetlight, the planes of your face look waxy yellow.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say. 

Your hand is on the door handle, nails glittering. He can’t make out the color of the polish.

While looking at it, a sudden urge overcomes him.

And he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he wants to, so bad. It’s borderline frantic, the desire- it’s necessary and all-important and crucial, for him and his basic peace of mind, and maybe for you, too-

Who is he to deny himself?

“Wait,” he says, even though the door is open and you have half of yourself out the door. 

The cold is slowly seeping in, bone-chilling.

You wait.

“Let me just,” he says, and can’t bring himself to say anything else.

He reaches out for your waxen face with one hand and presses it firmly against your cheek.

Under his touch, you shiver. He fans out his fingers to hold you better. 

Your eyes are wide. He thinks you look a bit horrified- horrified with yourself for not resisting, maybe.

But he closes his eyes as he leans in, so it doesn’t matter.

He turns your head for you, a bit forcefully. You don’t protest.

He kisses your cheek.

When he pulls back and opens his eyes, you’re staring at him with your mouth in a perfect circle.

“Uh,” you say, and suddenly look away and out into the night, and it makes him angry, even though it should be flattering, “Merry Christmas.”

*** 

You don’t think about Ransom as much as he probably would have wanted- life picks up too fast.

In the last days of the year, Meg calls you and texts you and even goes so far as to send a few emails, but finally, you seem to have found the self-respect to not respond- consider that ridiculously wealthy bridge burned. 

In January, your brother leaves to study for a semester abroad. All the walls in your small apartment are suddenly looming, standing high over you, standing empty. You try to shove off the loneliness by studying harder, by staying distracted.

In February, you have the same dream nearly every night- you’re sitting outside on a porch in the sun and for some reason there’s a bird on your head, and in your lap there’s a clock whose hands don’t work, and you’re wearing a heavy necklace made of gold links that jingle, and you’re so happy. 

Does the bird count as company?

In early March, while you’re watering your plants, your phone rings with an unknown number. 

You shouldn’t pick up unknown numbers.

You pick up.

“Hello?”

“Remember me?” 

His voice nearly gives you whiplash.

It’s dark and harsh, faceless and yet as arrogant as ever. 

“Hi, Ransom,” you say, and think of the night in the car for the first time since, think of how he gripped your face so hard that his ring left an imprint. “How the hell do you have my number?”

“Meg gave it to me,” he says smugly. “She says hi.”

You wonder what Meg thinks you did to her. It’s obviously something bad, something terrible, if she so willingly gave your number to this pretty-faced, pretty-voiced, ugly-coat-wearing asshole-

“Awesome,” you say plainly. You don’t want to talk about her. “Do you, like, need something, or-”

“I want to take you out,” he says.

You laugh and your grip on your pitcher slips, sloshing water over the edge.

“You’re joking.”

He is, right? 

He takes an impatient breath that, for some reason, sounds inappropriate. “I’m serious.”

“Ransom,” you say, slowly, “I don’t even know you.”

“Then get to know me,” he says testily, and you can perfectly picture him, sitting in some colossal brownstone his parents bought him, while a butler daintily dabs the sweat from his brow with an embroidered handkerchief. “Tonight.”

You’ve overwatered your marigolds. 

Has his voice really swept you this far away?

“No,” you say, and shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “You have anything better to do?”

You don’t, but you take a deep breath and prepare yourself to lie-

“I’ll treat you good,” he suddenly says, and his voice is low and sticky-sweet, dripping with honey. “I promise.”

He says it in a way that makes your knees weak.

You physically have to sit down- he knows how to get what he wants.

Could you actually do this?

Could you go out on a date with a crude, pretentious, trust-fund piece of trash, who probably thinks you’re easy, who’s only calling you because he’s bored, who has already subtly insulted you twice in this conversation alone-

-who got your number from his cousin that you both decidedly dislike, who kissed your cheek like you were pretty in the dark of the night, in his cold car?

“Fine,” you say. “Take me out.”

***

He doesn’t tell you that you look nice- he just stares.

There is something predatory in his eyes.

You’re out on a Wednesday night with a bad man, wasting your time, trying to get something out of nothing, smiling a fake smile when he orders you a drink you don’t like, already irritated with him, and trying too hard to stop looking at his face.

How are you actually interested?

You tell him that you’re in medical school.

“Really,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you. “You don’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

Underneath the table, you clench your hands for some sense of control, but still feel like you’re spinning. “What kind of girl?”

“Smart,” he says, and picks up his drink. The glass sweats beads of condensation, wetting the tips of his fingers. “I didn’t know you were smart.”

You shouldn’t dignify his flimsy insult with a response- he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, trying to make you roll your eyes or scowl or shiver. He wants you unsettled. 

But the moral high ground is, unfortunately, too high.

“And I didn’t know that you’re such a terrible date.”

His teeth gleam white when he smiles. He knows.

He knows that he can say whatever the hell he wants, because he has money, and those eyes, and that insufferably nice rich-boy hair, and that sweater with its charmingly frayed hems, and that voice- he has everything, and then some, and he’s about to have you, too, if he keeps on looking at you like he already does.

“You’re so sweet,” he says. 

“Fuck off.”

He winks and you could cry, you’re so fucking bothered-

You’re not usually this uptight, but he has you so drastically wound up that every little thing he does, even how he’s sitting- body sprawled, manspreading- is fire licking up on your skin, scorching-hot and ruining you with no remorse, like you have done something to deserve it.

When his eyes trail down, from your eyes to your mouth to your neck to below, you are so acutely aware of wanting him that you feel guilty. Like it’s a crime.

***

You don’t seem like the type of girl to fuck on the first date. 

So, of course, Ransom tries to fuck on the first date.

As you stand outside the restaurant, in your dress and strappy sandals, you look so tense that he wants to laugh.

 He can’t help it, because this whole thing you have going on- this weariness you approach everything with, this attitude- is so funny. Maybe, in any other situation, it would be irritating, but he’s been so bored lately that it’s stirring.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” he asks, quietly, taking a step closer to you so that at this very moment, under the waning sun, you should be able to just lean up and kiss him-

You blink slowly and keep your silence.

This is fucking tedious.

This should be so easy- all he has to do is settle his hands somewhere soft and let time pass, and then before he knows it you’re there and under and begging. But he can’t bring himself to touch you just yet, not when his head is calling you pathetic, and his heart calls you-

His heart just calls you.

You start to answer, and then hesitate. All five stages of grief flicker over your face at once- denial to acceptance in the same breath. 

“Sure,” you say, unevenly, desperately-

When you step inside his house, your eyes go wide. As you take it in- the decor, the windows, the excess, he locks the door behind him and takes you in.

You step further inside, and he thinks of where it would be best, but then your eyes crease as you smile- it’s impossible to wait when your smile looks like that- and so he backs you right into the closest wall, cups your face with both of his hands and kisses you.

He kisses you and you curl your hands over his shoulders and immediately kiss back, and he is taken aback and delighted. 

And he knew- the entire time at dinner when you were making eyes at him like you couldn’t believe that you were actually sitting there, present in that moment- he knew that secretly, you’re a freak. He knew it- he knows it.

He hopes it.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispers, right into your mouth, when your heart has been beating right into his for a while, “Let me fuck you right here.”

You bite his lip.

He takes a hand away from your face and reaches under your dress fast, rucking it all the way up your thighs, trailing up to touch you-

“Fuck,” you gasp, and arch your back up against the wall, and he grips you a little tighter-

He presses a finger into you- pushing aside your underwear and, good grief, you’re already wet- harshly, and pulls away from your mouth, so he can watch your face. 

The lines creasing your forehead look like poetry.

He thinks he likes you. It’s a shame he had to meet you through Meg- it would be nice if he had met you somewhere else, on his own. 

That way, he’d be able to waltz in one day, to another insipid family gathering, with you tucked under his arm. You, with your promise of a medical degree and your strappy sandals, and your iron grip on his shoulders and your drawn out breath of a moan-

The looks on their faces would be priceless.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, and he’s a little irritated at how cracked his voice sounds, but it’s the right thing to say- you swear again and he picks up his pace, pressing hard on your clit. “If you’ll be good to me.”

“I’ll-” you say, and you’re actually stuttering, and breaking out into a lovely sweat, still forced back into the wall with his hand and body. He leans closer, so he can’t tell where you and him and the wall start and end. “I’ll be- fuck, Ransom-”

You still have your arms wrapped around him, like an embrace. He keeps one hand between your thighs, your dress pooling over his arm like water, and uses his other to work at his belt buckle.

This is also funny- you stay exactly how you are, even though at that moment, there is nothing holding you back.

***

The world is begging for you to consider your actions.

But you don’t. You know that when he offers, you’ll meet him again.

It should be too late. You’re exhausted, from a day full of lectures and an evening spent in a lab, working as a professor’s research assistant, and then studying for a few hours in the library- all you really want to do is sleep. 

But then he calls.

The night is suddenly brimming with possibility, and you’ve never been more awake.

On a whim, Ransom suggests ice cream, and because you can’t bring yourself to deny him, you end up at a place that you would never go for- where everything is handmade and served in thick paper cups with multicolored plastic spoons, but he pays, because of his stupid ego or fragile masculinity or whatever the hell, so you don’t care.

He stands next to you as you order, and his shoulder keeps on brushing into yours. You can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. In the glass shield that the tubs of ice cream sit behind, you’re both reflected, your body warped and tall, his body warped and taller. In the glass, his eyes meet yours.

The tension is strong- it’s only a matter of time.

Your heart flutters.

When you sit, he bumps his knees against yours- you’re sure it’s on purpose, now, but you don’t say anything. What even is there to say? 

That you like it? 

When he digs into his ice cream, the plastic spoon- a green one- snaps in his hand.

 And because you’re so caught up in your own ridiculous thoughts, before he can go back up to get another, you pull your own from your mouth- a pink one- and offer it to him.

The proposition makes him smile.

Why does he smile like that? Each movement, each twitch of muscle is so perfectly detached and coordinated- it’s violent. 

But he still takes the spoon from you gently, with a soft hand. 

He’s too pretty to be mean, you think, but against any type of judgement- not just the better kind- you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You let yourself laugh and he scowls. 

“This place sucks,” he says, like he isn’t the one who chose it.

He adjusts the womens’ scarf he’s always wearing, carefully arranging it over himself so it looks like it was carelessly thrown on. The blue in the paisley print brings out his eyes- it makes him look so stupidly hot that you start to get angry.

You just shrug. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

He puts your spoon in his mouth and looks at you.

Again, the night ends at his place- this time on an actual bed, because you ask for it, and you think he likes how you look when you ask for things in the current state state you’re in-

He fucks you in the dark, and swears into your ear, and is not kind or soft in any way, but after he finishes, he takes the time to kiss the spot in between your breasts, and you think that maybe he isn’t entirely horrible. The bedsheets are cool against your skin, and his mouth is always hot.

You leave without a word.

***

He takes you out this time, in a real, urgent show of wealth- he picks you up in his fancy car, takes you to a fancy restaurant where the numbers next to the fancy menu items are all appalling, where he spends the whole time making these awful, unfunny innuendos that still manage to rile you up, because they’re coming from his mouth-

On the way back, while waiting at a stoplight, you take a deep breath and brace yourself before looking at him.

He really is gorgeous- all lazy grace and harsh angles. The light colors his face red, red in his eyes and in the plane of his cheekbone and in the slope of his mouth- like a beautiful warning sign. His hands are carelessly draped over the steering wheel and, despite the warning, you reach out and trace a finger over his knuckles. 

His whole body jerks.

You quickly draw your hand back.

“What?” he asks sharply. He’s staring at you like you’re crazy.

You don’t know why this is suddenly so fucking embarrassing, all you did was touch him- but you suddenly feel terrible, and-

“Nothing,” you say, with the same tone, and whip your head away from him to the window, where you smolder in the dark and furiously stare at nothing.

The light turns green. He takes his foot off the break and all but slams it on the gas pedal, driving as atrociously as ever, looking over at you for a split second when you don’t protest. The blood rushing in your ears is too loud for you to think- you can’t form any words.

Once it subsides, marginally, you add, “Sorry.”

His jaw tenses.

You look back over at him, at his ring, and imagine it pressing into your neck.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” he suddenly asks- suddenly demands, with a blazing authority that makes your stomach do flips.

You don’t know what answer he wants. “Um, one time I snuck out of-“

“Let’s do something crazier.”

On an abandoned road, he pulls over, and then you’re under him in the backseat- doing something crazier. 

You might have some type of psychic tendencies, because his ring presses heavy into your neck as he pushes himself inside you, starting at a bruising pace, and then he says your name in the dark, and he looks so beautifully flushed, startling when you grab his hair, laughing when your hand accidentally skims his thigh, smiling when you come-

You wish you had the resolve to put an end to this.

You wish you could stay when it’s over.

***

You don’t like his house.

It’s not the brownstone you imagined, but rather a huge, minimalistic box, with too many windows and spotless paint and modern wood fixtures. Ransom has all of these customary rich-person things, including stately furniture and eclectic art pieces and tall shelves stuffed with books, but owning any actual personality has escaped him.

Standing in his house feels like standing in an empty room- it’s all so apathetic.

Still, you show up when he calls.

You haven’t done anything this bad before. 

But there’s a first time for everything, right? First time for enjoying bruises and biting and an unwavering grip on your neck or hips or waist or thighs, first time leaving something so intense so awkwardly.

Each time is worse than the last, with the awkwardness spiraling, accruing beyond reason, and each time you struggle with what to say- even now, you just do your best to stay quiet as you start to get up, reaching for your clothes-

Ransom drapes a heavy arm over you before you have the chance.

“You can stay,” he says flippantly, and then shifts to pull you close to him, so that you are suddenly lying bare-backed against his chest, so that his sweat-slick body and heartbeat imprints itself on your skin.

Is he asking?

You crane your head over your shoulder to get a look at him.

He returns your stare like he’s been waiting for it. 

His face is still flushed pink and a lock of hair hangs low over his forehead, and if you were any braver, you would comb a hand through it, gently, with no real intentions. He’s breathtaking. Even the new, foreign purple under his eyes is a sight- pretty like something you would want to kiss.

“You want me to stay?”

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head back. You would lick the sweat from the divots of his neck, if he asked you to.

“Or leave, if you want. I could care less.”

He cares

You know it because his grip is unwavering, because the terseness in his eyes is enough to make you look away.

Eventually, you settle a hand over his arm and try your best not to tremble. Ransom mumbles something under your breath- you can’t make any of it out, but you don’t ask him to repeat it, for the fear that it’ll upset this fragile bedroom balance you’ve so painstakingly built yourself into-

He wants you to stay. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, because you don’t think he is.

He inhales. You feel his chest against you; it’s shaky. You wonder, for a second, about who he might actually be, underneath the arrogance and egotism and constant need to be an asshole- is he someone you could like without feeling bad about it?

“Yeah,” he says, and throws his other arm over you, so that he is holding you. “Why?”

There isn’t a genuine bone in this man’s body, but he genuinely sounds confused.

It’s possible that you’re the one who isn’t okay.

“Because,” you say, and take a great leap of faith- holding your bare heart in your hands, you turn to face him.

You’re fully exposed and subjected to his gaze- it’s nearly eviscerating. His eyes dip down to your chest and something like insecurity flares in your chest. It’s awful and terrible and you urgently want to kiss him on the lips.

He always kisses you first. You don’t know if you have it in you to kiss him yet. 

You wouldn’t ever try, in case you don’t.

“You look kind of tired,” you say, and his eyes bore into you with a sinking weight, threatening to drown. One of his hands finds a blooming bruise on your skin and lightly presses. He doesn’t react when you wince. The action is still kind- almost tender.

He sighs, and it is such a delicate breath, fanning hot over your skin. 

“I’m not tired,” he says, almost childishly.

You might be overstepping. But you don’t even know where the lines have been drawn. 

“Okay,” you say, and because you would not dare kiss his lips, you lean close and kiss his jaw instead.

He startles and then gives you a crooked, lazy smile. He is everything good, you think- for this one moment. Pretty and soft-handed and made of glass and honey and all other lovely things.

You tuck your head in the crook of his neck and wrap an arm over his, tight, so he knows you are there, and hope for the best.

***

In your spare moments, you’re always thinking.

Ransom knows this because of how you look when you do it- your brow furrows and your eyes go glassy, and you frown with an intensity that he has never seen on anyone else.

It happens when you finish a sentence, when you have no response for him, when he is still talking but you’ve stopped listening. When you think it’s quiet.

It never happens during sex- is it pathetic to take pride in that?

As he stands in your apartment for the first time ever, you look like you’re in near-despair, like your thoughts are wreaking havoc on your mind, destructive and distressing. You wear basketball shorts and a college sweatshirt and glasses.

He didn’t know you wore glasses, and that you looked like this in them- he’s been missing out.

“Hi,” you say, and stare at him with troubled eyes.

Your apartment is so small. He almost feels claustrophobic, standing in here. When was the last time he willingly stood somewhere so small?

The lengths he’ll go to, for… 

For you, he supposes.

“Hi,” he says, and wonders, also for the first time ever, what it is that you’re always thinking. “Why do you have so many plants?”

On the windowsill, with even spacing in between, sits an entire row of glass jars housing plants- all singular flower stems, some budding, some in bloom. The petals of a marigold brush against the window, orange against the grey outside. It’s cute, he absently thinks, in a struggling, shabby type of way.

“It’s just something I do for fun,” you say, sounding irritated. “Like, a hobby.” 

Infringing on the living room space is a small table, cluttered with textbooks and pens and an open laptop with its screen dark.

It still baffles him that you’re smart.

“So,” you start, and cross your arms over your chest. He feels kind of offended, because he’s just realized that he really only knows a handful of things about you, and even that handful is sparse, slipping through his fingers. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He called on impulse. 

He’s just- he’s in what someone could call a mood, where he hates everything and has the intense desire to ruin something, and while he was thinking of how to fix it- beyond just getting wasted- he thought of you.

And when he called, you were sounding so tired and so he even said he could just meet you here, so you wouldn’t have to drive, so you could squeeze in a few more minutes of studying before he inevitably invades your mind-

Easily, he deflects. Nearby, there’s a hallway with two doors, one of which is tightly closed shut.

“What’s in there?” he asks, and points towards it.

You relax, slightly.

He wants to gather you up in his arms, but he doesn’t know for whose sake- his or yours?

“That’s my brother’s room,” you say, and your shoulders slump, and he resists the urge to pull you upright, and the urge to gawk. Brother? “He lives with me. But he’s studying abroad this semester.”

“Where?”

“Prague.”

He nods. This is a stiff, perfect, shocking distraction. “Nice city.”

You nod distantly and head back to the table to put your things away.

“Yeah,” you say, after too long of a pause, as you start to cap pens and set them aside. You look at him as you do it, and so you miss a few times, accidentally drawing dark lines of ink all over your fingers. “I’m glad he got to go. When we were kids, he was obsessed with wanting to travel- he had this entire map in our room, and he would draw stars over every country he wanted to visit, and there were, like, a hundred of them, and he could list every single one, in the exact order he wanted to visit, and he could even list the capitals- I’m sorry. You probably don’t care about any of this.”

He doesn’t.

Or, he shouldn’t, but your eyes are clearer, and as you neatly stack your textbooks in an order only known to you, he is almost intrigued.

He’s longing for you- when you are right there.

He feels like a person outside of himself, when you look at him and smile tiredly.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

There’s a cheesy ‘90s horror movie you find after a few minutes of channel surfing, complete with terrible special effects and edited-out profanity. The days are longer, now, and to stop the sun from casting a glare over the screen, you close all the blinds. It adds to the atmosphere, you say lightly, fully phased out of whatever just possessed you, and his hands are so itchy- itching to do something.

He sits. Patience is a virtue, but he is not virtuous, and so when you sit next to him and bring your knees to your chest, making yourself small, he goes to-

Something in his stomach stops him. 

It’s butterflies- is he actually nervous?

This is so fucking infuriating.

You’ve got him trapped in some type of pain-and-power-play, some type of unassuming purgatory, and all he can bring himself to do is lightly brush a hand against your shoulder. You smile at his touch and his heart fucking breaks.

As the second boy in the friend group gets murdered onscreen, you close your eyes and duck your head into your knees.

“Tell me when it’s over,” you say, voice muffled.

“Scaredy-cat,” he says, even though this is no time for jokes. 

You crack one eye open, looking only at him, and give him the finger.

Come here, he almost demands. The butterflies protest- he holds his tongue.

The dance continues. When the sun sets, everything darkens, settling into a dim blue. You look like something out of a painting. Faintly sad, unusually serene. The skin around your eyes has smoothened- you’ve stopped thinking so hard and he can suddenly breathe easier because of it-

And then there’s a jumpscare, and he shouts, “Jesus!”

The murderer has broken down a door, and all of the remaining characters are screaming, and you burst out laughing.

He’s in the middle of a crisis, and you’re laughing.

You lean into him as you laugh, with your head turned away from the screen and your eyes open, looking at him so fondly that he suddenly feels violated, and you let your shoulder brush against his.

“Scaredy-cat” you tease, and it’s absolutely now or never-

You’re making him weak- it takes too much time and effort for him to draw an arm over you.

You don’t flinch, but he is sure that you can hear his heart beating dangerously fast, without abandon, like it's trying to break free of his ribcage. He almost gasps when you come even closer and lightly kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around him, and his head is just saying yes yes yes-

Your mouth goes over his ear, lips ghosting over skin. He waits, more scared than he’s ever been in his entire life, for what you have to say. 

***

So this is Ransom’s deep, dark, ugly secret.

He likes to be cuddled.

If it were anyone else, you would laugh.

But it’s Ransom, and so you just take it in stride, as part of his extremely fucked-up psyche that is probably a result of a hundred things he’ll never tell you- childhood trauma and neglect and the consequences that come with having more money than you need or deserve.

He’s always talking, always talking shit, always talking over you and over everyone else, and you realize, one day, that he really only is treading water- he’s only focused on staying afloat, speaking whatever he wants, but never actually saying anything.

He’s responsible for his faults, of course. But still, when he smiles in low light or curls his hands over yours so viciously, you don’t know if you should leave, or if you should just stay and pity him quietly.

You’re starting to like him too much to even care.

He starts coming around more. And he actually stays, and starts leaving pieces of himself behind. He has a toothbrush next to yours and a phone charger on his side of the bed and imported, undoubtedly expensive snacks in the kitchen.

He leaves clothes, too- you wash them with yours and keep them, neatly folded, in your closet.

On a warm day in May, he meets you at a cafe.

He does most of the talking, like always. It’s been months, already, but you still find it difficult to start conversations.

You still have trouble telling him certain things without feeling like you have to defend yourself, and he still rarely deviates from being a total dick, even when you hold him or have his head in your lap, when you make him laugh or when you kiss him.

Or when you put your hands in the sleeves of his sweaters and rub your palms against his forearms, because he’s always running warm and your hands are always cold. 

He always acts like it annoys him, jumps when your hands meet his skin- but you know he secretly likes it, because whenever you’re done he pulls the hems all the way over his hands and looks at you with something amazed in his eyes.

With the weather warming up, he’s ditched the sweaters and taken to wearing these awful fucking short-sleeved button-downs, all unnecessarily tight and showing way too much collarbone. He’s making you sweat.

“You’re staring,” he says, and smiles, self-satisfied.

You bring your straw to your lips and shake your head. “I’m not.”

He knows that you can’t help it- he is always so gorgeous. He’s infuriatingly pretty.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, and nudges your foot under the table, voice suddenly low, and it’s like, holy shit-

You bring your drink down and lean over the table, careful to avoid knocking anything over, and kiss him quickly.

He tastes like bitter coffee.

You’re sad, all of a sudden.

When you settle back in your seat, you clear your throat like nothing happened. You want to lean in again and button up the rest of his shirt, and kiss him again. You want to come so close that your noses touch, and then yell at him, just for being him.

He looks appalled

“What was that for?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever done this.

“No reason,” you say. “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like it,” he repeats, and it’s like the same reaction from the night at the stoplight, and you realize-

He’s dumbstruck.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. He sets his jaw like he’s about to get up and leave. You try not to scowl, even though you feel like you’re drifting, tide carrying you away, sand clean and smooth on where your body once was-

It gets to you.

“Can I not just kiss you?” you snap harshly, glaring at him with a ferocity you don’t think he’s ever seen.

It’s inevitable- the result of months of frustration. You can only suppress yourself for so long. Why, you want to ask, why are you not entitled to him the way he is to you and everything else? Can you not ask for him so wholly?

He flinches.

Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire, flinches.

It brings a small sliver of satisfaction with it. There’s some nerve you’ve struck, and the discontent on his face is steadily growing- 

You pay it no mind, drinking the rest of your iced coffee in calm silence. 

Outside, the day is vaguely summery, where the sun is out and strong, but still too cold in the shade. You stare past his head, towards the door. How quickly can you leave?

“You can,” he says quietly, when you’re rising to throw your cup in the trash. “Whenever you want.”

His eyelashes are so long- they command a moment of attention all on their own when he blinks- soft and slow and gazing at you from underneath them. You wonder if he is doing this for the same reason you are. If he’s lonely, too.

When was the last time you had the dream with the bird?

You smirk. “Whenever?”

He is forlorn. 

You like him better in the spring.

“Whenever.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, and make your voice low, since two can play at that game.

He considerably perks up. 

*** 

When you wake up, he’s still in your bed.

Lately, he’s been spending more time at your place than his. You think that all those windows are finally starting to get to him.

Ransom always holds you fiercely in his sleep. You break free as gently as you can and take him in for a brief moment- you like how he looks when he’s asleep. Unconcerned, chest rising slow with each breath, hair splayed over the pillow in nearly every direction. He almost looks innocent.

You get up quietly, even though there’s no chance he’ll stir- he sleeps like the dead.

Daylight filters through the blinds in white-yellow streams, dappling him golden. 

You almost take a picture, but regretfully leave the room for other tasks- you stretch and water your plants and check your email, and then sit down at the table to Skype your brother.

He picks up fast.

“Hey!” you say, and at once feel so much relief, to see his grainy, smiling face on your laptop screen.

Europe has done him good- he’s grown out his hair, and his skin is glowing, and he looks so happy.

He tells you about what he’s been doing lately, studying architecture. It makes you so proud, this fact alone- that unlike you, he can do whatever he wants and doesn’t have the looming promises of debt and academic burnout and crushing, ever-present stress hovering over his shoulders. It is so good to see him, and you are so grateful that he can be who he wants to be, do what he wants to do-

“Holy shit, who is that?”

He’s looking past you. You turn around and almost jump- 

Ransom stands in the kitchen, shirtless and rummaging through the cupboards. He waves at you.

You would think that someone like Ransom would exclusively sleep in, like, silk pajama sets, or something, but at least he’s in sweatpants- however low-rise they might be, however loosely knotted the drawstring is. It’s better than nothing, at least- what if he had walked out in nothing?

When you turn back to the screen, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your camera feed- you look absolutely mortified.

You are absolutely mortified. This is the start of what can only be a nightmare.

“Are you dating that guy?” your brother asks incredulously. He’s still staring at Ransom with his jaw hanging loose. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” you say forcefully, without thinking. “That’s, um... “

Hopelessly, you gesture back towards him, trying to come up with the words. Nothing feels right in your mouth- every title you can come up with is too consequential, too heavy.

“...That’s Ransom.”

“Weird name,” your brother says, and grins.

You take a breath that feels more like a gasp. “I know.”

“Hey,” Ransom says, from the back, and continues to loudly open and close the cupboards- what the fuck is he even looking for? You don’t keep enough shit in there to warrant this much noise- he’s doing this for theatrics.

“I think I’m going to go,” you say loudly. “Love you.”

“Bye,” your brother says, and he’s grinning stupidly, like a madman.

You disconnect and feel like you might faint.

Not your boyfriend, right?

“Was that your brother?” Ransom asks, casually, finally finding what he was looking for- two mugs. There is no way that he didn’t come across them earlier. 

“Yeah- yes,” you say shakily. It feels like someone has filled your brain with fizzy water.

There’s a few boys your brother has met over the years, but you’ve always been careful. Because an introduction is like making a statement- it’s like saying that this person you’re with is important enough to you that they’re going to overlap, exist in more than just one part of your life.

But Ransom is a catastrophe of a person- you can barely handle him as he is. How could you ever have him as anything more?

He goes through the cupboards, again, and finds a box of teabags. “The one studying abroad?”

“I only have one brother,” you snap.

“Okay,” he says, totally unbothered, surprising you. He’s not a morning person in the slightest- why is he being so cordial? “Where do you keep your kettle?”

“Second cupboard on the right,” you say, and bury your head in your hands.

He looks at you. He is so many things, but never kind, until now. His hair, in its adorable bedhead, flops over his eyes. Before, it was only almost, but now, you think, he looks completely innocent, like the type of guy you could give kisses without feeling nervous, the type of guy you wouldn’t deny as your boyfriend.

What is wrong with him?

What is wrong with you?

At the end of the day, he’s always there- you’re exclusive, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough to deserve a title?

He finds the kettle, and then sifts through the box. He sorts through different flavors with a gentle precision you’ve never seen before- is this really him? Is he the type of person that is gentle and precise?

The uneven smattering of blue-black bruises on your thighs say no.

You’re so confused that your head hurts.

“None of these flavors are any good,” Ransom says, and shakes his head. His hair shines in the morning light. “Earl Grey- who the hell drinks Earl Grey?”

“Don’t insult my tea like that,” you say, and he looks back at you and gives you a brilliant flash of a smile.

If he’s bothered at all by your denial, he never brings it up.

*** He’s too far gone.

He’s in freefall, feeling weak- he’s fucking succumbed.

To you. To your comebacks and the world-weary gaze you have of everything, to your nonsensical collection of plants and your painfully unattractive basketball shorts, to the way you laugh too loud and too little, to the way you say his name, where he can never tell if you’re happy with him or exasperated-

It’s wrong. 

But, he thinks, so are all of these other things, like drugs and alcohol and blowing money on shit he doesn’t need- and you make him feel better than any of those things ever have, so why should anybody have a problem with it? A week goes by after you tell your brother that he isn’t your boyfriend- and it doesn’t bother him, because he’s never wanted that title in the first place, never has- but it obviously bothers you. 

You’re disappointed in yourself, because you think you’re supposed to be better than him, because you’re so smart and he is so terrible.

He hopes that that’s not how you actually think. It hurts him to0 much to even consider it, and so he doesn’t, and so he thinks of how to keep his hold on you, and then he thinks of why he even wants to-

The truth is too apparent to deny.

After a week, he calls.

***

He’s very slow.

Not tired- just consumed with the sudden need to savor things. When you let yourself into his arms, Ransom treats you like you’re fragile.

“What’s up with you?” you ask, and as he stares, your voice reduces to something small. You go timid when his eyes are on yours, he realizes, and the thought sends a thrill through his body- he slowly rocks you, to calm himself.

Your shirt is off and you wear a bra with a small lace trim- not racy, but very cute- and he just keeps on staring.  

Wow, he thinks. He fucked up good.

“Nothing,” he says, and moves one hand from your waist- he has you in his lap, straddling him- up to the top of your neck. He trails down and over to your collarbone, hooking a finger into your bra strap.

You laugh, breathy and indecent.

He lifts it, subtly, and you whine, and he bites back his own.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, and kisses your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Ransom,” you gasp, with your hands splayed over his back. He slowly skims his hand over, to your back, feeling every little thing, dip and contour and curve, everything- and then unhooks it, and you are bared to him and he is breathless.

He takes you by the shoulders and twists, to bring you down, to pin you against the bed. Your comforter is dark blue, like ocean water.

Your eyes are endless, like ocean water.

“Are you upset about something?” 

Your chest rises and falls and he almost reaches for the waistband of your underwear, but stops himself. He presses a wet kiss to one of your breasts, and you arch into his mouth. He feels like you know every single secret of his, when he has told you none.

You know by accident that he’s ticklish. That’s it.

“I’m not,” he says. “I promise.”

He bends low to kiss down the length of your body, repositions his hands to hold your waist. He thinks that this is more intense- it is just his mouth and your skin and the sound of your breath hitching.

He still has it put together, remarkably well- unfathomably well.

“I feel like there’s something you’re- ah- not telling me, honey.”

That does it.

He grips your waist harder, in the way he knows you always like, so that tomorrow he will be able to retrace his steps, follow the blue-

“Say that again,” he says, and presses a soft kiss over you- even through your underwear, with its delicate lace trim, he can feel how wet and wanting and ready you are for him.

“Say- fuck- say what?”

Your hand flails, for a second, before you thread it through his hair, and yank. It hurts, pleasantly.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and shimmies it down your thighs, and you instinctively spread your legs. He puts his mouth to your slit, slicker than he imagined, and the heady arousal rushing through his mind- and everywhere else- is nearly enough to make him forget what you even said-

He is quite possibly drunk off of you alone, and he wants to slap himself, and, like, press you so close into him that you forget your way out.

With the spare glow of one lamp, you look like you’re made of gold.

He breaks away from you for a terrible moment to strip, and with one hand he teases your clit, and with the other he pumps himself, hard, once, twice, three times in anticipation-

“Don’t make me ask again,” he says, and comes back up to cup your face once more, and slips his hand back down into you at the same time, with his cock hard against your thigh- this is all quite slippery- the game you’re playing at and the risk he’s trying to take-

“Honey,” you say, and you’re smiling deliriously, but shakily. “Honey honey honey.”

“You’re killing me,” he says, and his voice, in a moment of terrible, vulnerable, unspeakable betrayal, cracks. 

“Good,” you say, but your voice is all wobbly as he lines himself up and roughly pushes into you, holding you a little tighter to keep you steady. “You deserve it.”

He kisses you openmouthed, with his teeth scraping- it’s rough and jarring, the way you always take it. Against his mouth, you swear incoherently, stringing together a litany of curses with his name thrown in between, and goddamn him- it makes him smile.

He wastes no time- he can’t be patient any longer, not when he has you under him like this, and so he goes fast, snapping into you at a bruising pace and keeping his mouth close, and rubbing at your clit, to overstimulate you and make everything faster, harsher, more immediate-

When you come you always say his name, thickly with gravel in your voice, and gasp like the breath has been stolen from your lungs. This time, when you are so far gone that he thinks you’re beyond the realms of sound, and sight, too, with your eyes tightly screwed shut, he says it, for the sake of himself.

“I think I love you-”

[dandelionflower]

Felinette Month Day 27

In between

Alya stared, blank-faced at the pair in front of her.

Marinette and Adrien had always had chemistry, but this was unbearable. They were just standing at the doorway of the classroom, each one offering to let the other go in first.

“You go ahead.”

“No, you, I insist.”

“Please, just-“

“Excuse me.” Felix walked in between the two without a second thought or a third word. He headed to his desk and sat down, flipping open a book and reading diligently.

Felix Culpa. The destroyer of her OTP. He was terrible, almost always introducing himself at the worst moment, never seeming to purposely do anything, but it always ruined whatever was happening between the other two.

Marinette seemed to hate him just as much, always tracking him with her eyes whenever he entered the room. Adrien was his usual oblivious self, giving Felix a grin whenever he saw him. He seemed to be making more of an effort to connect with Felix, since he and Marinette started their awkwardness. Weird.

Still, Alya was certain something had changed since last week. Marinette and Adrien had somehow become closer and more awkward simultaneously, but she expected that the two would be dating within the week.

Speaking of, the two walked in together, whispering and shooting furtive glances at the back of the room, where Felix sat. Clearly they had noticed his tendency to ruin their moments.

They slid into the front desk, Marinette shooting Alya an apologetic glance that she waved off with a knowing smile. If the lovebirds wanted to spend more time with each other, who was she to stop them?

—

Felix was avoiding her. She just knew it.

Ever since Team Builder, she and her two partners had been out of it. She and Adrien were getting to know each other anew, but Felix seemed insistent on never looking at them directly again.

Team Builder was the coach of a failing baseball team. She wanted the all teams to be honest with each other and share deep secrets to become a closer team. Her first target was her baseball team.

Her second was the group of three heroes.

After working through the trust-building obstacle course with ease, they reached the truth telling stage.

Some of the questions weren’t so bad, even things they’d talked about before.

“What is your greatest fear?”

“Who on the team do you trust most?”

“What is your greatest pet peeve?”

Easy answers, with little opportunity to hurt anyone, even the question about trust. Both of the boys said they trusted her most, and she begrudgingly revealed that she trusted Chat Noir more. Apidae faux pouted for a moment, but admitted that he expected that would be the case.

It was around “who is your crush?” that things started going downhill.

Chat Noir opened his mouth, probably to proclaim his “undying adoration” for her yet again, but choked.

“What’s wrong?” She had teased. “Cat got your tongue?”

“My L- M- Mi. Kagami Tsurugi.” The words sounded normal, albeit strangled, but his face showed that he did not intend for them to come out.

Apidae was next. He stepped forward, breathed in deep, and said without a waver in his tone.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. What could she say?

On her turn, she walked up, ready to spill her guts on her crush on Adrien, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“A- Adri- Apidae.” No. That wasn’t it. What was happening? Was this how Chat Noir felt?

Apidae coughed as the doors opened to the next level. Neither of them looked at each other as Chat Noir bounded ahead of them to what looked like the final stage.

“Welcome! You have proven yourselves to be a secure and trusting team. With this final push you will become the perfect team!”

Apidae snorted. “What? No, let me guess. You’re going to take our miraculouses and force us to reveal our identities to each other, so our final walls are down.”

“You’re close!” She waved her hand and chains appeared on their wrists. “I’m not giving Hawkmoth anything until he proves he can be a team player with his blue belle. But I’m also not giving you the chance to fight me until you prove yourselves. So here’s your final question; what is your true identity?”

Chat Noir grunted, shifting against the chains. “I’m not saying a- Adrien Agreste.”

“Chat! You’re Adrien? All this tim- Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Apidae made a startled sound. “We don’t have time for this. We need to stop her. Now.”

“How aren’t you saying it?” Ladybug glanced at him as Chat- Adrien used his cataclysm to destroy their chains.

“I’m not using the initial sound in my name.” He said simply, though it was clear that he was struggling with his words.

It was a difficult fight, with Apidae unable to communicate to the best of his ability, Chat and Marinette awkward and embarrassed, and Team Builders ability to manipulate their environment.

Apidae tried to use his venom, but it was blocked, and they were left with less than five minutes before she would be fighting alone.

And soon she was. Chat Noir detransformed to reveal Adrien, who, while athletic, did not have miraculous armor to protect him from the blow. He was knocked prone against a wall, and stayed crumpled there.

A minute later, Apidae detransformed too, revealing the crush she didn’t even know she had until then to be Felix Culpa. Felix still stood, weaving around every attack, using one of the still-intact chains to hold her.

“Ladybug. Lucky Charm. Now.” He struggled for hold her, only barely containing Team Builder.

“Right. Lucky Charm!” She threw her yo-yo and was met with a baseball bat. She knew what had to be done. She gave Felix a look and he nodded.

Team Builder broke free of his hold and knocked him aside, not hard enough to knock him unconscious.

Marinette distracted her by asking about her batting form as he got back up and crept behind her.

Like a well-oiled machine, she tossed the baseball bat to him as he leapt up, he caught it and swung it into Team Builder’s head, just barely fracturing her helmet. A fracture was all that was needed for the akuma to crawl out and get purified.

She tossed her miraculous cure, and waved for Felix and Adrien to scramble away as she knelt by the dazed coach.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“Yes, I think so, but I can’t remember anything.” She looked up at her with horrified eyes. “Was I akumatized?”

“I’m afraid so, but you didn’t do much harm.” Her miraculous beeped and she waved a goodbye before swinging away, catching Felix’s eye as she left.

They hadn’t talked since then. She and Adrien had taken every opportunity to talk to him and he made every excuse not to.

“Enough is enough.” She hissed at Adrien, during quiet reading time. “We need to talk to him now.”

“So you two can talk about your crush?” He teased with a grin.

“Not just that!” She felt her ears turning red.

“But mostly that.” He gave her a kind look. “Just let me handle it. You go stand by your locker after class.”

“Okay.” The rest of the class was spent on trivial topics, jokes, and planning fo make it easier to slip away during akuma fights.

She left to go to her locker after class, Adrien shooting her a wink as he walked purposefully towards Felix.

A few minutes later and she was at her locker, in the crowded room, staring at the doors waiting for Felix (and Adrien too, of course).

Suddenly, the doors slammed open to reveal Adrien, carrying a struggling Felix over his shoulder.

“Adrien, I swear to-“

“Yeah, yeah. We need to have a conversation, and you have to deal with it.” He commented with an east smile.

He set Felix down in front of her, restraining him in a hug.

“I do want to talk, but in front of so many people?” She glanced at Adrien, then the room.

It was deserted. In the few minutes she had been distracted, Alya has shuttled everyone out of the room, shooting her a wink and a thumbs up before exiting herself.

“Never mind then.”

“Sir please.” A squeak came from Felix’s bag. “I’d like to see Tikki and Plagg. Just for a moment?” An adorable yellow head gave him puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine.” She squealed and flew out, hugging his cheek and dive bombing Adrien’s bag. “But I want it clear that I’m doing this for Pollen.”

“Noted.” Adrien cautiously released Felix.

“So, what needs to be said? I feel that there’s nothing to be resolved.”

“I beg to differ.” Marinette took a step forwards, fully aware of how close her face was to his. “I think we have quite a lot to talk about. Like your crush on me.”

“You mean our mutual crush on each other.” His eyes bore into hers and she stepped back, rubbing her neck.

“Y-yeah. So...”

Adrien waved his hand. “I’m gonna step out and let you two handle this.”

Once he was gone, Marinette sat down, putting her head in her hands.

“I have a crush on you. You had a crush on me.” She murmured. “What else for you want me to say?”

“Well, ‘yes’ would be a nice start.” His feet shifted.

“Huh?” She peered up at him. His face was absolutely crimson.

He coughed a pulled out a crumbled sheet of paper. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he glanced at her, “when I first saw you, I thought you were immature, and preppy.

Then I actually had a conversation with you and I was proven exactly right.”

She made a little sound of dissent.

“But accompanying your immaturity and preppiness, was a deep compassion, and an impeccable fashion sense. I fell for you and kept falling with every day I spent in your presence. So, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, will you go on a date with me?”

She stared at him.

“This is why I made the request that you say yes.” He whispered.

“Oh!” She straightened. “Right.”

“So...”

“Of course.” She beamed and lunged for him, hugging him as tight as she could.

“Finally!” Adrien shouted from the hallway.

“Finally.” Felix whispered into her hair.

@felinettenovember

[gwennavierre]

Doki doki

Adrien realizes something about his everyday ladybug.

Ladybug realizes something about her kitty.

-----

Marinette was a busy person. School, crushes, liars, bullies, akumas, friendship drama... those were things most teens in Paris dealt with, but Marinette was also Ladybug, the Guardian of the Miracle Box, and a budding fashion designer.

While others ran to hide from akumas, Marinette transformed into Ladybug to fight and defeat them with the help of Chat Noir and the occasional temporary miraculous holder.

While her classmates got to go to bed at a reasonable time after doing homework, Marinette stayed up for hours getting to know the kwamis and work out who would best be suited to be a temporary holder for them when needed.

And while other teens practiced their passions in waking hours, Marinette worked tirelessly through the nights and over weekends to finish commissions. Her non lucrative hobbies tended to get pushed aside, which was frustrating since they helped her relax...

She decided she could kill two birds with one stone (so to speak... Orikko wasn't a fan of that phrase..) by sharing her own interests with the kwamis while working on her current fashion projects.

A few of the kwamis had taken a shine to the anime shows and manga collection Marinette had. Some preferred reading the Japanese comics out loud to their Guardian as she stitched or crocheted. They delighted in making different voices for the characters or taking turns reading, emphasizing the sound effects and even acting out the fight scenes (Tikki especially liked acting out the romantic scenes solo and making Marinette giggle uncontrollably as she passionately kissed the air space in front of her own tiny face).

Marinette hadn't realized just how much more time she was spending watching anime and reading (or at least listening to) manga until a normal morning of class was about to start.

She had gotten there early for a change! Not planned, Tikki had simply set her phone alarm for earlier while she slept in an attempt to get her holder to class on time for a change. It worked, though Marinette realized what had happened the moment she burst through the classroom door. She had been scowling at her purse every few moments while idly sketching at her desk since then.

Her anger at her clever kwami dissipated however, when a certain blond boy waltzed into the room with the grace and energy of a gazelle. She couldn't help the love sick sigh that escaped her as he made his way to his desk, a small smile on his lips growing into a full grin as his eyes met hers.

"Good morning, Marinette!" His voice was sunbeams and she wanted to curl up in it and take a cat nap.

"G-good morning Daydreaming. I mean Adrien. Sorry.. I was daydreaming. Not that you're not a daydream because you are! Not, I mean. You're just a regular dream. I mean person. I... what I meant was... um..." Marinette wished more than anything else in that moment that the desk would turn into a black hole and suck her I to it.

Until she heard Adrien laughing softly. Until she saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Until she heard his next words to her...

"I'm sorry for laughing, Marinette. I promise I'm not laughing at you, though. Not exactly anyway... it's just... you tend to get flustered like this sometimes and while I usually just pretend I don't notice so you don't get embarrassed, I... I honestly think it's adorable. Like... utterly ridiculously freaking cute and I had to tell you. I... I hope you don't mind me saying that." His voice had gotten quieter towards the end, his eyes glued to the sketchbook on Marinette's desk, his right hand rubbing the back of his neck, and his cheeks lightly flushed with pink.

Marinette had noticed all of this, somehow, and was staring at him in mild shock, eyes wide and unable to close her jaw for a moment.

When she came back to her senses (debatable), the first thing she did was clutch her chest dramatically and whisper just loudly enough for Adrien to hear: "doki doki"

...

...

Shocked green eyes snapped to mortified blue ones.

Marinette slapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

Adrien grinned like a kid who was given free reign in a candy shop.

Before he could stop her, however, Marinette stood up and shot to the classroom door, nearly colliding with a few classmates making their way in. She didn't return until the bell rang and steadfastly avoided Adrien's gaze whenever he turned around in his seat.

____

Shortly before class was supposed to get out, there was a muffled commotion from down the road.

Great. Akuma. Marinette made a quick request to use the bathroom, leaping out of her seat before the teacher could respond. She didn't notice Adrien leaving the classroom shortly after.

____

"Good job!" The superhero duo bumped fists after the miraculous ladybugs had cleaned up the mess made by the akuma. It had thankfully been a quick one. Ladybug had seemed a bit preoccupied during the battle. Chat didn't seem to mind, though. In fact... he looked quite pleased with himself. Ladybug raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're in a good mood today, kitty." She smiled at the smirk on his face, happy to have something else to think about other than her embarrassing blunder in the classroom earlier...

"Is it that obvious? Heh. I guess I am." Chat Noir searched Ladybug's face, wanting to tell her what happened but only if she genuinely wanted to hear about it. She tilted her face towards him and smiled expectantly. Good enough for him!

"So, uh... today, um. Do you read manga?"

Ladybug frowned in confusion. "Yeah? But... what does that have to do wi-"

Chat waved his hands in a mildly impatient gesture. "Getting there, just... context will help. So! I got to class and there was one person there already. This girl... I... I've been kinda crushing on her for a while..."

Ladybug felt something tighten in her chest at that, but dutifully chose to ignore it. She was happy he had finally started moving on. She was proud of him. This girl in his class was probably no where near as cool as her anyway. Wait, what? Ladybug shook her head to rid the intrusive thoughts and paid attention to her partner again.

"... she's always been like that around me but I thought it was because she hated me at first, or just felt uncomfortable because I'm fam- er... familiar or uh... something." Chat cleared his throat awkwardly. Ladybug gave him a look that seemed to be encouraging him to continue though her smile seemed a bit... off.

"Anyway. So today I say good morning to her and she starts fumbling over her words. They seemed so... I dunno... She kept accidentally calling me a dream, a daydream actually... and I just... I started laughing because it was sooooo cuuuute!" Chat had brought his closed fists to rest under his chin and his eyes glazed over at the memory of Marinette's earlier word salad.

Ladybug's brain was buzzing. It was driving her nuts. She knew what it was but it couldn't be... so that meant it wasn't. Right? Isn't that how things work? Oh, he's still talking. About that girl. Who just so happens to have done the same thing she did this morning. Funny thing, coincidences.

"... she ACTUALLY SAID 'doki doki'!! Can you believe it? Like... her eyes could have literally had hearts in them. There's no way I misinterpreted that, right? She likes me, right?? I mean... it makes sense, all the times she got flustered. It wasn't because she doesn't like me after all!!"

Chat had started pacing in a circle around what apparently was a lifelike statue of Ladybug, seemingly unaware of the switch.

"She ran out of the room right after and then left right before the akuma so I haven't had a chance to talk to her since, but I think, no wait, I KNOW she likes me and I want to ask her out and now I won't feel awkward asking to marathon an anime or something because she obviously likes that kind of thing too and I can't believe I didn't know that about her before but now I DO know and that means I can... um.... Ladybug?"

He stopped and stood directly in front of Ladybug, a look of concern and mild embarrassment on his features. Ladybug's eyes that had appeared to be staring into a void snapped to his. Her mouth clicked shut. Her face blossomed into a deep blush and she took two giant steps back from Chat, stumbling slightly. It was Chat's turn to frown in confusion.

"Ladybug, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing. I have to fo gome. Go home.

Chat's eyes narrowed. "Your school is already out for the day?"

"Yes" she lied. "Shirt day today."

"Um... okay? You mean short?"

"That's what I said."

Chat scratched the top of his head between the cat ears. Ladybug was acting really strange... it's almost like she's... no. It can't be. Can it?

"Ladybug... are you...."

"Chat..." It was a warning. But Chat Noir had to know....

"Are you jealous?!"

__________

Shall I continue this or leave it as a one shot?

[dstrt1xn]

Have a blessed Easter

Another prompt from the lovely @ivebeenonthissitetoolong.

TW // Gore, body horror, child death.

Everyone loves the Easter Bunny, right? They all want him to come visit, bring eggs, spread cheer. But those of us who know, know that the Easter Bunny isn't the adorable, treat-wielding, fluffy cutie he appears to be. You see, those of us who know aren't putting up Easter decorations to celebrate anything. Oh no. Everyone thinks Samhain – Halloween – is the most dangerous and cursed holiday, but, in fact, the Easter Bunny is the last thing you ever want to see. He brings eggs, sure, but you'd be mad to eat one. Not if you care at all about your life and the lives of those around you. Eating his eggs is how he gets you. Eating a single egg means certain, prolonged and agonising death. 

The first recorded case was back during the time of the Celtics, when the English countryside had not yet been tamed and overrun with the 'civilised'. A mother had warned her child to remain inside the church until Easter had passed, locked in with all the townsfolk. The child had never seen the Easter Bunny, but by the stories this child had determined the Bunny to be lonely and in need of companionship. The child had been convinced that the bunny only brought his eggs as offerings of friendship and unity, and that the reason he terrorised the town so over Easter is because no one ever went outside to engage with him – no one wanted to be his friend. The child decided to break this sick cycle of loneliness and fear mongering. When the child's mother had been occupied with feeding the old and incapable among them, the child had snuck out of the church.

The Easter Bunny is an awesome creature: impossibly big, fluffy and quite unthreatening. People will exaggerate in an attempt to scare you, but, in truth, the Bunny is merely an Angora rabbit with oddly humanoid eyes. When the Bunny had spotted the child, he had hopped a bit further away, so as not to startle the first human he had seen out and about in so long. In his wake, he had left an egg, opalescent and faintly glowing. The child had never seen something so beautiful. The egg had to be theirs. They picked it up and put it in their pocket before attempting to communicate with the Easter Bunny.

"I am so sorry about my people. They are all brainwashed by archaic tradition and fear. I bet they don't even know how pretty and soft you look. I bet none of them has ever even seen your beautiful eggs. Thank you for leaving me one!"

The Easter Bunny's upright and prominent ears had drooped down then, as though he no longer felt any apprehension towards the child. He came hopping back, slowly and carefully, until he was so close that the child needed only reach out and touch him – and they had!

Oh, the child had never felt anything so exquisite! The softest, warmest fur on the gentlest and prettiest head. They wanted to ask the Bunny to stay forever, but knew that he probably had hordes of other towns to visit and bring eggs to.

Before leaving, the Bunny had nudged at the child's pocket, at the egg tucked away there. When the child had taken the egg back out, the Bunny had nosed it close to the child's mouth, as if urging them to eat it. Not wanting to offend whom they now considered a new friend, the child had eaten the Easter Bunny's egg, savouring the sweet and delectable taste running down their throat and leaking onto their tongue from between their teeth.

The Bunny pressed his nose to child's hand and, with a parting nudge, hopped away to disappear among the foliage that ringed the town.

The next night, the bunny had returned, just as the child's mother predicted he would. However, this time, the Bunny was met with the entire town's people. All save for the child and their mother.

As the story goes, the child had fallen ill. All day they had spent coughing up blood and what looked like globs of tissue and hair. Nothing the town's healers had been able to do had helped, and everyone had simply prayed for the child to be delivered from the hell the Easter Bunny's egg had no doubt put them in.

Upon the Bunny's return, he did not seem to care for the people with their weapons and fire and rage. He had come for his friend – for their brave sacrifice.

For when the child had finally succumbed to the effects of the egg and breathed out their last breath, their stomach – which had been slowly swelling since the previous night – had burst open with a wet and sickly pop. At first, their mother had believed her child to be possessed of some kind of parasite, eating away at their innards and making their organs writhe and squirm in an attempt to ward off the invasive illness. Soon, however, it had become clear that the child's organs had not been moving about at all, but had transformed.

Where the child's heart and lungs and liver and kidneys and even stomach and guts had once been, now were tiny creatures with glistening pink noses and little, elongated ears. These creatures had eyes that appeared human and bodies covered in masses of soft, blood-soaked fur. They did not gnaw on the child's body, nor did they pay the mother any mind. They all seemed to be singularly focused on the doors of the church, which swung open as though a mighty weight had borne down on them. On the threshold, illuminated by the light of the waning moon, stood the Easter Bunny. He'd waited patiently for his offspring as they'd found their feet in that new life. They had not taken long to learn; soon having found their way to their waiting father. Going to stand close enough that the Easter Bunny's fur had fallen over them in what had appeared to be a protective shroud, they'd let the larger bunny lead them out into the night.

The townsfolk, now too stunned to do much more than stare, had watched as the rabbits retreated from their home. No one had dared attack the creatures, having known in their hearts it wouldn't have done them any good. So, those of us who know... we don't hang our Easter decorations or buy our chocolate eggs in celebration. We do it as an offering, an appeasement. For, no one wants to be visited by the Easter Bunny. No one who doesn't wish to meet a terrible and torturous end.

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Some pertinent info:

the shells of his eggs

the ea(mon)ster bunny

his children