#too tired to care about inconsistencies

[camerobn]

my pd designs ref lala

[eomayas]

crawling back to you • ljh

pairing: producer!woozi x f!reader, exes2l

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! angst & fluff

synopsis: reader sees her ex boyfriend for the first time after avoiding him for months, and they realize just how much they miss each other

warnings: p in v, fingering, unprotected s*x (reader takes BC), praise, dirty talk, groveling, drinking, they’re at a club

a/n: eeeek sorry i’ve been MIA! i hope u like this. unedited. excuse any plot inconsistencies i started this weeks ago. will be finishing up reqs soon!!

music blares through the club speakers and bodies fill up what feels like every square inch of space available. your drink sloshes in your cup when a club-goer collides with your shoulder, a drunken “sorry” thrown your way as they stagger off. luckily, nothing spills on you and you got an apology.

walking up the stairs to the section your friends got, doubt and anxiety creep around the corners of your brain, the cage of butterflies in your stomach ready to be released. here’s the thing: your ex is up in this section, here because this night is partially about him and partially because your friends guilt tripped him into coming. otherwise, you know he wouldn’t be here. you also wouldn’t be here, if not for being tired of skipping out of fun activities just to avoid him. it’s tiring making up excuses as to why you can’t go to something whenever you catch wind of him being invited as well.

that’s really the problem with your breakup; you shared a group of friends. they all vowed to not get involved, staying true to their word on being impartial, though sometimes you wish they’d show favoritism and not invite him to things, just for your sake.

tonight, you’re here because you’re tired of being tired, tired of being afraid of running into him. you even stopped frequenting the places you used to go together because of the mere threat of possibly running into him. you’re tired of it.

also, you came because you knew he’d be here. not that that matters, or anything.

stepping into the section, you take a sip of your drink to calm yourself, before you’re spotted by soonyoung who waves at you enthusiastically. “y/n! you came!” he cries, jumping up from the couch and nearly tackling you in a hug. he hugs you around the shoulders and squeezes you tightly, and you can smell the alcohol wafting from his breath. “i’m so happy you’re here!” he slurs, and you wonder how many drinks he’s had.

when he releases you, you can’t help but return the toothy smile he gives you. “me too,” you say, though you’re not really sure yet. placing a hand on his cheek, you gently pat him. “youre drunk.” you declare, giggling when he smiles proudly.

out of all of the friends you shared with jihoon, you got the closest to soonyoung. probably because he was always around, but his personality is infectious and he’s just overall a good time. it sucked when you and jihoon broke up because you saw less of him until he reached out a few weeks after to reassure you that he wasn’t ‘picking sides’, but was trying to be there for his friend. you understood, but you needed a friend too.

you and soonyoung release each other, and he grabs your hand and begins to drag you over to where he’s sitting. knowing how close him and jihoon are, you relent and try to pull yourself back. “no, hosh, i don’t think it’s a good idea,” you start to panic, eyes frantically scanning the section for any sign of him.

“nooo, he’s not even sitting with me!” he pouts, rolling his eyes. you furrow your eyebrows at him, and he sighs, gnawing on his lip like you’re goin to hate what he’s about to say. clearing his throat, he says, “he’s made a friend.”

you ignore the pang in your chest and swallow down the lump in your throat. everything in you stops you from whipping your head around in search of him and this new found friend of his. shrugging your shoulders, you attempt to act nonchalant and like you don’t care, but soonyoung sees right through your facade. “good for him,” you say, but it comes out like fuck you.

“let’s drink.”

tipsy, not drunk. that’s your goal for tonight, and you’re dangerously on the verge of approaching drunk, the shot glass in front of you tempting. jeonghan raises his eyebrows at you from across the table, his shot glass hovering in the air. you eye the cup full of liquor, stomach roiling at the thought of taking even a sip. with resignation, you shake your head at last and lean back against the couch, a collective groan and pleading coming from your friends.

“cmonnnnnnn!” they say in unison, making you cover your face and shrink against the cushion.

“this is peer pressure, you know,” you say, pulling your hands from your face and looking at the shot glass. it’s practically calling your name (or maybe it’s seungcheol complaining at you), waiting for you to drink it. “nah, guys, i’m tapping out.” you declare.

“i’ll drink it,” wonwoo says, reaching across the table and grabbing your shot. he clinks both of the drinks in his hands against everybody else’s before downing one after the other. you watch in astonishment, feeling slightly nauseous for him, and a drink is placed in front of you on the table.

“water,” soonyoung says before you can question him, and sets a few more glasses down. somehow, despite his drunken state earlier, he’s managed to sober up as you drank more and more, despite it being his idea to keep on drinking.

you thank him and immediately grab the glass and begin chugging, not realizing how dehydrated you are.

“can i cut in?” you freeze, nearly choking on your water, and pray to the heavens that that voice doesn’t belong to who you are 101% sure it belongs to. you’ll never not know that voice, never not hear it ringing through your head when you watch a tv show you both liked or walk by your favorite restaurants. all the blood in your body rushes to your face, cheeks and neck burning red.

sliding your eyes from the table in front of you and up to the voice, it’s like your brain is wiped of every thought in your head and your senses are working over time. suddenly the music feels too loud, and the lights too bright, and your dress too tight. jihoon is looking down at you, chewing on his bottom lip nervously—a habit he’d never been able to shake.

you realize much too late that he’s waiting for an answer from you, being under his gaze after so long of even seeing him making your brain work extra hard to process anything. jihoon stands above you, looking sexier than ever in all black with hair pulled back, a few loose strands framing his face. you nod choppily, hands clutching your water glass so hard that it might break from the pressure.

everyone at the table magically disappears after that, soonyoung vanishing from your side the moment you tipped your chin up. the only sign of anyone else having been sat around you are the empty glasses littered across the table.

jihoon takes a seat next to you on the couch, not so subtly wiping his palms on his pants. “are you gonna throw that at me?” he says as a greeting, nodding down at the glass in your hands.

at that, your grip loosens and you set the drink on the table, wiping the condensation from the glass on your dress. “no,” you reply, meeting his eyes. jihoons face softens when you look at him, and you wish you didn’t notice it because you feel your heart break in your chest.

“hi,” he says.

“hi.”

there’s a gap of space between the two of you, wide enough for another person to sit. you want to scoot closer and simultaneously scoot away from him, but stay planted where you’re at. “how’ve you been? it’s good to see you, y/n,” his voice is sincere, and it makes you feel confused, and like you miss him. because you do—it’s why you’re here.

you nod, nervously sliding your hands underneath your legs. “good. it’s nice to see you too,” you reply, and you wonder if this is how the night is going to go; you agreeing with and repeating whatever he says. “how are you?”

jihoon mirrors your anxious over-nodding. “good! just been working.”

“sounds like you,” you offer, earning a smile from him that shoots straight to your chest, followed by a ripple of sadness. work. the one thing you couldn’t compete with, so you never tried. and because you never tried, you were always second. second to the music, second to the studio, second to everything you let him put above you.

sensing your discomfort at the mention of the thing that drove a wedge between the two of you, jihoon scrambles to change the subject. work is his fault, but music is something he could never give up. music is his passion, it’s his calling and his purpose in this life. he blames the hours, not the thing. “i’ve been meaning to call you, but i was trying to give you space,” he says.

you nearly scoff in his face because if anything, space was the last thing you needed or wanted from him. you wanted time, but certainly not space. he gave you enough of that while you were together. space is what you got when you allowed yourself to be second. you can only hum at his words, a proper response lost on you.

“i miss you.”

those three words echo through your skull and bounce around the corners before they land squarely in the front. i miss you. somebody had to say it first.

“you don’t show it,” you murmur, looking down at the floor. you’re acutely aware of how much space is between you when the gap lessens, his thighs centimeters from your own in an instant.

“hm? i couldn’t hear you,” his mouth is very near your ear, leaving you no space if you were to turn your head to look at him. you go to lean back against the couch to put some distance between the two of you, but collide with his arm that is strewn over the back of it.

a surge of nerves runs through your body. finding a new sense of boldness, you scoot away from him and turn towards him, looking him square in the eye. “i said, you don’t show it,” jihoon blinks at you, mulling over your words.

“i don’t show it?” he asks, leaning in. you shake your head, your eyes never leaving his. jihoon brings a hand up to rub his bottom lip. those lips. your eyes drag down to rest upon the soft, pink lips that adorn his face. you fight the urge to trace his bottom lip with your thumb, grateful for the darkness of the club because your face is on fire. “well, it’s true though. i miss you.”

in place of a response, you pick up your water glass and chug the rest. you can feel him watching you, his eyes burning right through you. it’s bad enough that you’ve been craving his presence ever since you called things off with him, but having him this close so soon wasn’t exactly as easy as you dreamed it to be. you’re hot under his gaze, and the water is doing nothing to cool you down.

“you don’t act like it. you didn’t even call,” and maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or you’re simply feeling extra bold but you can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth.

jihoon works his jaw and pushes a few strands of hair out of his face. “i didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

“i’ll always want to hear from you.”

at your admission, jihoon leans back against the couch cushion, teeth running over his bottom lip. your gaze lingers on his lips for a brief moment, long enough for jihoon to catch. he shifts against the couch, and you let your thoughts get the best of you and rake your eyes over his figure, shamelessly eyeing his lap. his legs are outstretched in front of him, slightly bent at the knee and fallen open wide.

it’s been months since you’ve had sex, jihoon being your last. you’ve managed to take care of yourself, though you miss feeling full. jihoon watches you drink him in, hand curling around the back of the couch. “are you seeing anyone?” he asks, leaning forward slightly. you shake your head, looking at him pointedly. you don’t have the strength to ask him back, brain taking you back to what soonyoung said earlier. a friend. clearly, there’s something there.

he’s watching you again, and this time you don’t have anything to preoccupy yourself with under his gaze. “congratulations, by the way,” you blurt embarrassingly, trying to find something else to talk about. jihoon blinks a few times, like he’s trying to figure out why you’re congratulating him for anything. “on your music. tonight is for you, isn’t it?”

“oh. thanks. and no, it’s not for me. they just needed an excuse to go out,” he says, brushing the stray strand of hair out of his eyes. you follow the movement and let out a small sigh, hands holding onto your knees.

jihoon leans forward and rests his elbows atop his knees. his face is close to yours, mere inches away. if you leaned in towards him, your lips would brush, and you hate how aware of it you are. you should hate him, shouldn’t want to see him, and certainly shouldn’t be imagining kissing him right now. you left him. but he marked the end of your relationship.

a zing of heat spreads through your chest as you look him in the eye. the club feels too dark, too hot, too loud, and jihoon too close to you. “i need some air,” you rush, standing up on wobbly knees. you pull the hem of your dress down, making the mistake of looking down at jihoon. he stares up at you, his eyes wide as they drag up your legs. when his gaze settles on your face, his lips part and his to the darts out to lick the corner of his mouth.

you swallow the newly formed lump in your mouth and make your way towards the stairs and hobble down, hand gripping tightly to the railing. you manage to make it down the flight of stairs without embarrassing yourself and push past people to get to the exit, outside calling your name like a siren. “y/n!” or maybe it’s literally your ex calling out to you.

jihoon is right on your heels, looking a little stressed as you round the corner around the side of the club. you suck in some air and look over at him, a breeze blowing his hair out of place again. “what?”

he holds his arms out to the side for a brief moment before dropping them at his sides. “i don’t know. i don’t know what to say, i just…” he trails off with a light shake of his head, wiping around his mouth. you just stare at him, bottom lip tucked under your top lip. “i just want to talk to you, i guess. i don’t know. i miss you.” he says for the third time tonight.

you only hum, looking up at the inky black sky. you hear his shoes scuff against the pavement, and then he’s right at your side, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking onto his heels. “i’d do it differently, if i could, you know? i fucked it all up.”

“what would you have done differently, jihoon? quit your job? stopped making music? i wasn’t going to have you resent me, jihoon,” tonight doesn’t feel like the night for this conversation, but maybe it is. maybe that’s why you came here knowingly, hoping that you’d run into him to make sense of the end of your relationship. “there’s nothing to really change, jihoon. you came home. you checked in. you did it all.” you don’t know why you’re trying to spare his feelings still, but something in you won’t let you dunk on him to his face like you did behind his back.

jihoon is listening, he hears you. but the only thing he can focus on is the way you keep saying his name, and just how much he really misses hearing you say it. blowing out a breath, he shrugs his shoulders up to his ears and drops them, eyes flicking up to you at you. your bottom lip is tucked underneath the top, your eyes already on him. your arms are crossed over your midsection, and a breeze blows a few strands of hair out of their place and jihoon has the urge to put them back, but he stops himself.

“so now what?” you ask, peering down at him. jihoon stares back at you with parted lips, eyes dropping to the ground before flicking back up to you.

“i don’t know. i just miss you, y/n,” he flicks his bangs out of his face and you purse your lips. it’s not like you don’t miss—you do, way too much, in your opinion—you just don’t necessarily know what to do with what he’s saying to you. is he expecting you to magically forget everything and take him back? should you take him back? should you even be talking to him? “you look really nice tonight.”

and he looks too good right now, too approachable, too take-back-able. he looks good enough to do something you might regret in the morning.

jihoon takes a half a step closer to you, the toe of his shoe touching your heel. you turn, interweaving your legs and pressing your abdomen against his and putting a hand on his shoulder. he swallows and ignores the thump thump thump of his heart, nerves skyrocketing the longer you look at him with your hand on him.

in an instant, you’re ducking down and pressing your lips to his. jihoon kisses you back urgently, one hand resting on your hip and the other cradling the side of your face. it’s rushed, messy, and feverish in seconds, jihoon trying his damndest to pull you impossibly closer.

he grows hard below you and the slightest brush of his erection on your leg makes you shiver and part your lips against his, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. jihoon drops his hand from your cheek and places it over your ass, pulling your crotch against his own. “i drove here,” he pants against your lips when he gets a moment to pull away.

that’s all you need to hear to let him lead you to his car, your heels echoing off the pavement. jihoon helps you into the back and climbs in immediately after, pulling the door closed and caging you against the backseat and the side of the door.

jihoon settles one knee on the floor of the car and the other on the seat, hands bunching your dress up around your hips as he kisses you fervently. your hands work the buttons of his shirt open, mouths pulling apart for a brief moment when you get to the end of his shirt and fumble with the last button for too long. his shirt falls open and you push it off his shoulders, and wet your lips at the sight of his bare torso.

the air in the car is thick as he sits above you, chest heaving as you drink him in. you rake your nails over the toned body that you once used to get to touch just like this. jihoon nudges your nose with his own, gently pressing his lips to yours once you angle towards him. he holds onto the headrest to brace himself, quietly groaning when you start to work his belt open.

“i need you,” you whine when his belt is pulled free, already rushing to unbutton his pants.

“lemme stretch you out first. you can’t take me yet,” and he’s not trying to be cocky (he definitely is), but he doesn’t need to know if you’ve been fucking other people to know that you definitely aren’t ready for him.

you whine at the thought of having him inside of you, your core aching with need. he’s 100% right, but you want him so bad and feel like you can’t wait.

jihoon is already working his fingers inside of you, pulling your panties down to your knees and dragging his fingers up your folds to collect your slick. he doesn’t tease you like he otherwise would if you were still together, rather he dips two fingers into your sopping, warm hole and curls them upwards. you gasp and he bites his bottom lip, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

arching against the seat, you whimper when he presses against your clit with his thumb as he works his fingers inside of you, reaching that spongy part that makes your vision spot and harsh pants leave your lips. jihoon leans down and kisses on your neck, lips dragging under your jawbone and nearing your collarbones. “i missed this,” he groans into your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the soft skin there. you only buck your hips in response and bury a hand in his hair. “missed you and this perfect pussy.”

a soft grunt escapes you when he slips in a third finger. “you take my fingers so well, baby,” he adds, pulling back from your neck to look down at where you mold around his three fingers. you suck him in greedily, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“hoon, i want you,” you whimper, tugging on his hair. his eyes fall closed as he lets you pull on his hair, head falling back as you do it. “i can take it.” you add, pussy clenching around his fingers. you bring your other hand over to pull down his zipper, eagerly pushing at the waistband.

“you sure?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, fingers still moving inside of you. you nod and lean up from the seat and press your chest into his, turning your head to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss.

jihoon pulls his fingers out of you and pull away from you to shove his pants down to his ankles, haphazardly wiping his hand on the fabric of his boxers. jihoon throws himself onto the seat next to you and tugs you onto his lap, one hand making use of unzipping the back of your dress and helping you out of it, followed by your bra and panties.

you’re left in just your heels and him in just his open shirt, his hard cock flat against his stomach. jihoon palms your breasts, letting out a breath when you rock against his lap. “fuck, i need you so bad,” you say, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his neck. reaching between the two of you, you take his thick shaft in your hand and slowly start pumping him, reveling in how he pants into your ear and grips onto your ass tightly.

“i wanna feel you, baby. ride me,” he rasps, biting his lip to hold in a whimper when you swipe your thumb over his tip. you raise your hips and position him at your entrance before slowly sinking down on him, gasping when the head of his cock presses into your hole and stretches you out. “fuckkkk.” he drawls, leaning his head back against the seat.

you hold onto his shoulders for support as you move lower and lower onto him, breathing quickening with each inch you take. his cock fills you up in a way that is so familiar yet so foreign after months of going without. it would be overwhelming if not for the way he rubs your lower back and kisses across your chest, mumbling at you to take your time. “you feel that?” jihoon groans, hands squeezing your hips.

you only whine pathetically and draw your bottom lip in between your teeth. you sink lower, finally bottoming out and shuddering at being stuffed. jihoon lets you sit on his lap and adjust, his ego swelling knowing that you even need the time. “shit,” you whisper, running a hand through your hair and tilting your head back. the stretch is bordering on painful, but you’re not about to quit now, not when your cunt has its own pulse that’s in sync with your heart.

a heavy hand falls on your neck and jihoon pulls you down to his lips, instantly slipping his tongue into your mouth. you moan against him and rock your hips back and forth, sucking in a breath each time you move forwards. you falter in the kiss, simply pressing against his mouth as you grind against him. “you’re so tight,” jihoon grunts, dropping his hand from your neck to toy with your clit. you clench around him and his breath hitches. “i missed this pussy, fuck. i’ve been thinking about you every night.” he admits, earning a whimper in response.

moving up onto your knees, you work up the strength to fuck yourself onto him and place a hand on the roof of the car to steady yourself. “f-fuck, jihoon,” you hiccup, mouth falling open.

“do you miss me too?” he rasps, pinching your clit , hips bucking when you let out a whimper that goes straight to his cock. “you think of me fucking you like this?”

“yes!” you cry out, a response to both of his questions. your thighs burn but you keep bouncing up and down, a familiar tightness forming at the base of your stomach. “missed this so much.” you squeak, dropping onto his lap and rolling your hips.

“yeah?” he pants out, lips ghosting over your neck. “cum for me and show me.” and you look down at him and swear you see a demon for a second, jaw falling to your chest when he rubs his thumb across your bundle of nerves.

putting both of his hands on your ass, he surprises you when he hoists you up before slamming you back down on his cock, careful to avoid knocking your head against the top of the car. you moan and encircle your arms around his neck and hunch down into him, crying out his name as he manually moves you up and down. “j-jihoon!” the air gets pushed from your lungs each time he pulls you down onto his cock, vision blurring.

your cunt clenches around him in a vice grip, making him stutter as he lets out a string of curses mixed with praise. “s-shit, feels so f-fucking g-good,” jihoon manages. he can feel his release creeping up on him, but he’s determined to have you cum first. he still knows all of your tells: heavy breathing, lack of talking back, the tight grip you have on him. “are you gonna cum for me?”

it only takes him fucking you onto his cock a few more times before youre sputtering out his name and your cunt is spasming around his cock. you gush onto his lap and shake against him, nails digging into his shoulder blades. feeling you against him spurs his own orgasm, and ropes of his cum shoot up into you. you want to blame the alcohol for your lack of concern for a condom, but you’re too far gone (and take birth control pills) to take up an issue with letting him fuck you raw.

you settle in his lap and tuck your face into his neck. jihoon rubs your back soothingly and makes no move to get you off of him, or to move. for a few minutes of you sitting on top of him, he lets himself pretend like you’re still together, and softly peppers kisses into your neck, all while his finger tips gently stroke up your spine. you love and hate the intimacy, wishing it were real and yours to hold onto. wishing that it meant something.

“jihoon,” you’re the first to break away after what feels like forever. you sit up and peel yourself off of him, involuntarily moaning when he slips out of you. you roll onto the seat next to him and shyly try your best to cover yourself. “did you really mean it?” you ask.

“mean what?”

“mean it when you said you’d do it all over again?”

he places a hand on your bare leg and looks over at you. “i did. i’d do anything, really, to get you back,” he admits. he doesn’t care if he sounds pathetic, he just wants you back.

you only hum. his bluntness puts butterflies in your stomach, and has you wondering if a second chance would really be that bad? or maybe it’s the fact that you can feel his cum leaking out of you and onto the seats.

“it’s not going to be this easy, jihoon,” you say, playing with the ends of your hair. his hand slides higher as he scoots closer to you, seemingly pulling you back into his lap. you wrap an arm around his neck and toy with his hair. “you’ve really got to try. show me that you care.” you add softly.

jihoon peers up at you with big, pleading eyes, and you feel yourself soften against him. he kisses the center of your chest and you let out a sigh, curling into his body. “i can do that. i just want you back, baby.”

and if he keeps calling you baby, it really might just be that easy.

[kryscent]

mehndi?

pairings: diluc, xiao, childe, neuvillette x gn!reader (separate)

content briefing: fluff, kissing, lowk jealous!xiao lol, cw//allusions to cheating in childe's (nothing happens lmao reader is just being a little silly), suggestive in childe's part, lovesick genshin men :( (neuvi omg)

a/n: idk why i got so carried away for childe... the melusines are sick and tired lmao. lowkey desi/arab coded reader but applies to any and all if you're open to the concept!

synopsis: as a sumerian diplomat to your partner's nation, times come where you have to return to your homeland when certain duties call. this time, the akademiya scribe and acting grand master (and more importantly your former classmate and good friend), had sent you a short letter requesting your presence in the city. al haitham, ever so meticulous, had noticed some inconsistencies in the liyue-sumeru trade reports and needed your assistance to rectify the issue.

your most recent visit was two months ago, when you returned with an auburn flower painted into the palm of your hand (courtesy of nilou), fascinating your boyfriend greatly. you'd forgotten about the scene, especially in your rush to pack…

so when he shyly asks if you’ll get it again…

if there’s anyone who understands the saying, “duty calls”, it's DILUC. 

that being said, it doesn’t mean he’ll miss you any less… 

his ears colour scarlet, looking away as he asks, ‘do you think you’d have time to do your mehendi this time?’

you grin, eyes crinkling fondly at the conscious effort he made to pronounce it correctly. ‘we’ll see, ‘luc.’ And that was enough consolation of your absence for him, because he’d do anything to see the enchanting art on your hands again. A compensation of sorts, he thinks to himself, miffed. Despite never having seen something like it before, it was so inexplicably you, a simple, dainty extension of your heritage that made him fall for you even more, if that was even possible. 

you open your palms to him, every space that could possibly be painted on is covered in intricate designs of mehndi. ‘there’s a surprise for you in there, if you can find it.’ he pulls off his right glove, tilting his head at you curiously. 

he holds your hands in his, with the care of handling handcrafted terracotta, and searches through the patterns, his index finger tracing along. ‘that tickles,’ you mutter, squirming as an involuntary smile pulls at your lips at his determined expression. he tightens his hold just a tad at your words. ‘is that better?’ he hums, smiling faintly as he continues in his ministrations. 

he stops in his tracks, his breath hitching, and if his cheeks burned anymore he was sure he’d burst into flames, rivalling his vision. there it is, his surprise, along the side of your left ring finger – his name, in beguiling cursive. you’re struck with the urge to kiss him, when he beams so brightly you’d think wedding bells are tinkling, and he buries his face in your palms, bashful. 

‘i love you,’ he says softly, voice muffled by your skin. your smile widens, endeared, leaning down to try and meet his eyes as he avoids you, pulling your hands further towards him. ‘i love you too, ‘luc.’ 

‘how long will you be gone?’ XIAO turns to look at you from his perch on the balcony, watching you pack after you’d denied his help, before dismally turning back to the moonlight. you stifle a giggle at his sulking demeanour – if he had cat ears, they’d be flat against the top of his head; wallowing in his melancholy. 

‘a week, maybe less. al haitham and i work efficiently well together so the work might be done quicker than i’m thinking,’ you answer with a small smile, absentmindedly rolling up your socks. he makes a face – a small scowl that you don’t see with his back turned to you – at the mention of the scribe. ‘why can he work with you but i can’t come with you?’ he mutters petulantly. 

‘you know how much i’d love your company, xiao,’ you tilt your head kindly, reasoning with your adorably envious boyfriend. ‘but you’re not my protector alone, you have the people of liyue to keep safe, dear adeptus.’ he huffs quietly at your point, before turning to face you again, shifting his body to sit against the rails. 

‘then…will you do something for me?’ ‘anything,’ you roll a tunic, glancing at him fondly.  

‘you know, the designs you returned with last time?’ he begins, eyes trained on your palm. ‘you mean mehndi, right? want me to get it done again?’ he nods quickly, neck turned to look away from you as it slowly flushes crimson, his ears burning. 

you return in less than a week, as promised, spending a day in leisure after your work was done to participate in recent festivities. 

‘xiao,’ you say his name, summoning him as you settle onto the edge of your shared bed at wangshu inn. he appears comically fast, looking dishevelled. ‘you’re back,’ he breathes, his smile small. 

you open your arms, and he falls into them easily, sitting beside you. ‘although, i did stay over a day longer,’ you tell him, apologetic. ‘but for good reason! different communities in sumeru celebrate their own kind of festival of lights at different times of the year. like the lantern rite in liyue.’ he perks up from the crook of your neck, curious as you continue. 

‘they were celebrating deepavali in gandharva ville, and tighnari invited me to come join them,’ you show him your hands, smiling at him. ‘as promised,’ you say gently.

his lips part, eyes trailing over every crevice of your palms and wrists, hesitantly reaching out a hand to touch, like they’d wipe away any moment. he looks up at you, wide-eyed, when he sees his name across your inner forearm, at the top of your wrist. 

‘so my protector could join me,’ you tease, grinning, before he sways forward, pressing his lips to yours before you can see his ruddy cheeks.

so when he seems so oddly happy to see you leave…

is he cheating on you?!

‘so when do you get back, milaya?’ CHILDE questions, following you around your apartment as you pack your things for your travels and stay - to him, this was normal behaviour; to you, it was his tenth question in the last three minutes. 

despite your annoyance because you're stressed, and he isn't really helping aside from tailing you like a shadow and probing you with his quizzing, your breath catches slightly at the nickname. (you could be dating for years and he'd still have that effect on you, but never to let him know because he'd never live it down.)

when you'd told childe about your sudden business trip, promising that it wouldn't take very long, you'd expected his usual lamenting and sorrow, not…him grinning at you in anticipation. does he want me to take long, you think to yourself in dismay, your inner conscience pulling a horrified face. 

‘be sure not to rush so you can take time to, you know, hang out with your friends! you must miss them – especially that girl you mentioned last time, the artist – ni-something? nilly?’ 

‘nilou.’

childe’s mind is elsewhere, for once not noting your slowly darkening mood (usually he has the countenance of a spy, mostly when it comes to your upset). the second you mentioned visiting sumeru, he remembers the last time you went, and returned with the prettiest little tattoo on your palm, refusing to let go of hour hand for hours as he traced the design.

‘is it permanent? the henna?’ he sounds adorably curious, occupied with pressing gentle kisses to the tips of your fingers. you fight back a smile, warming at the sight of his cerulean eyes on you. ‘temporary, unfortunately. i’m not that good at doing it on myself,’ and you let out the laugh you’d been holding back when he frowns, drooping visibly, before perking up when you comb your free hand through his hair, expression fond, and he flushes. 

‘maybe i could learn?’

he doesn’t know why he’s so captivated by it, but something about you being adorned in your culture was alluring. he’s going to miss you terribly, he knows, weeping and throwing himself over the chaise and wasting away his days despondently until you return, but it is a soothing comfort to wait knowing that you’ll come back with a gift, seen as such despite being adorned on you (which makes it all the more a present), so he kisses you goodbye as he sees you off at the harbour, trying not to be as dejected.

you worry your bottom lip between your teeth on the way back, a few days earlier than you’d told your boyfriend you’d return. your mind returns to how he didn’t even shed a tear at the pier – you’d expected your dramatic boyfriend to almost flood the port like last time (he really has a knack for raising your standards).

his few letters had mostly probed about your days in detail, asking what you were doing, who you met, but talking about his own few and far between, and your suspicion had only grown. you know your boyfriend is easy on the eyes, and his flirtation comes so effortlessly to him in a way that has the people of liyue swooning (he doesn’t even realise it with how engrossed he is with you). it would cause him no struggle to find someone…else – someone better?

when he meets you at the harbour to pick you up, he presses his lips to yours as fervently as he can without the millelith escorting him away for excessive pda, his hand at your nape. ‘missed you, milaya,’ he whispers into your mouth, ‘–so much.’ 

he pulls away, grinning at you, before flipping your palms in his hand, sulking when he finds them blank. he looks up to complain before his words stop in his throat, eyes falling to the nilotpala lotuses on your collarbone, extending its stems and leaves outward and down the collar of your shirt, and his gaze darkens. his hand wraps around your wrist (gentle, always so gentle), pulling you in the direction of your apartment as his free hand lifts your bags easily. 

he pulls you into your shared apartment, dropping your luggage as he locks the door, before caging you against the wall between his arms. he leans down to meet your wide eyes, and you back away a little as your stomach flips. 

he ghosts his lips over yours, peppering up your cheek before dragging down your neck, humming when he reaches your collar, tugging it down just a tad, the mehndi lotus petals curving into the dip of your skin. ‘did your friend do this one too?’ he asks absentmindedly, kissing the spot before nipping it lightly, soothing over it with a teasing grin when you tug at his hair in warning, your breathing shallow. ‘’ts pretty,’ he looks up at you, eyes hardened to cobalt and half-lidded, his lips pulled into a lazy half-smile. 

you exhale sharply – he wasn’t asking if you’d stay longer so he could meet with his paramour; he just wanted you to have time so he could see the art on you again! (he’s so obsessed with you it’s actually stupid that you’d think he could even look at anyone but you). your heart stutters at the realisation as you push his smirking face away timidly, before your mind clears. 

‘you asshole if that bruises–’

so when you get a letter from his subjects…

as the iudex of fontaine, NEUVILLETTE is a busy man, and sometimes (most of the time) the work cut out for him rises to arduous levels. the only thing that made the wearying paperwork bearable was you. you, who would quietly bring a chair and organise his papers the way he likes it, sometimes filling it yourself methodically, perfectly, if it was within your scope of knowledge. you, who would bring him macarons and pastries at random, and pull him out of his office at meal times to eat together. 

you, who would brew tea to enjoy together at moments like this, when his head throbs from a headache as he presses his forehead to his desk, and he misses you terribly. 

the bushes outside the palais mermonia have grown ears, one would think. they’ve become the commonplace meeting spot for the melusines, the small creatures clustered together in shrubbery as they secretly discuss their worry, staring up at the heavy grey clouds, threatening downpour that had been continuous for the past two days.

that brings them to today, gathered once more as they draft a letter to you. 

‘dear partner of father,

we thought it would be fit to let you know that his state is very bleak and desolate, and he is concerningly not leaving his office very often. this is not meant to worry or rush you, but do you think you could return…as soon as possible? do you know how much longer your duties will take to complete?

p.s. we know father would never expect a present from you, but from our side we humbly ask of you to return with a treat, since we know how much he loves gifts from you. 

regards and sincerely,

the fontaine melusines’

you sigh heavily, ghosting your fingertips over the patterned paper, worrying your lip in concern for your boyfriend. 

reading the letter over your shoulder (nosy), al haitham huffs, a rare smile on his face. ‘we’re on the last report, i can finish it on my own,’ he turns to face the files once more, monotone voice taking on a teasing lilt as you narrow your eyes at him. ‘are you sure?’ 

‘go ahead early, so you can get that treat of yours.’ ‘haitham!’

two days later, a knock on the door brings neuvillette’s head up from where it is surrounded by piles of files, articles and reports. ‘come in,’ he calls, weary, expecting another melusine urging him to eat. 

instead of the small, long-eared souls he’d expected to see, the door opens to you. he stands abruptly, the stacks sliding to the floor and scattering loose leafs of paper onto the floorboards. 

‘mon cœur?’ he stares at you, wide-eyed in surprise, the tips of his pointed years carmine. if it were anyone else, you’d think they weren’t happy to see you. but this is your neuvillette, and the immediate stop of rainfall as the clouds give way to clear blue out the window, and the subsequent chirping of the birds on the sills speak volumes. 

he makes haste, meeting you in the middle of his office before hesitating, and you nod gently at him. he gathers you in his arms, soft and warm against the firm planes of his hold. he cups your face in his palms, kissing you deeply, a clear message of i missed you passed into your breath and into your heart. it beats rapidly against your sternum, swelling with promise to take good care and spoil your sweet, tenderhearted boyfriend. he parts from you reluctantly, breathing your scent in and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. ‘did you have a safe journey?’ 

‘i did, i apologise for taking so long–,’ he shakes his head quickly, and you laugh lightly. ‘and since you liked it so much last time,’ you push up your sleeves, showing him your forearms. he gasps quietly, azure gaze following the tawny trail of lumidouce bells, rainbow roses and romaritime flowers drawn into the skin of your forearms and the back of your hands with artful precision, vines connecting and curling around them beautifully. his heart warms at the thoughtful gift - sumerian culture imbued with his in mind.

a rainbow spreads through the sky outside, the melusines letting out a sigh of relief, patting each other on the back for a job well done. 

kryscent '24 do not repost, translate or crosspost

animated dividers are by @cafekitsune (ilovethem sm omg, its a blessing, tysm for making them)

[literaila]

how do u think satoru would react to reader in a depressive episode, especially what do u think the kids would do

obviously, they’ve all noticed.

the past couple of weeks have not been lived through ignorantly. and you have not been acting normal.

the differences are just that, at first. tiny inconsistencies in your otherwise normal personality, your routine.

and then it becomes more than just a… change.

it starts off simple; megumi’s brows furrowing when you ask him a question—something about his teacher, or what kind of drink he wants in his lunch that day—and then forget what you’ve just said as soon as he answers.

tsumiki watching, smiling along idly, as you rub your temples, sighing with every other sentence and squeezing your eyes tight like you’ll be able to wake up if you try hard enough.

and satoru noticing when you linger in your room a bit longer, as the days pass. staring when you freeze looking at the wall in the morning, zoning out so hard that he has to shake you back to life.

just an accumulation of things that might indicate that something is up.

but as these moments—moments when you’re lost in your head, trying to conceal your entire being from all of them, and pretending that it’s all normal—increase, the three of them learn a little something about observing.

and lying to themselves, of course.

eventually, though, when megumi or tsumiki inevitably say something—usually when you’re not in the room, off hiding somewhere—satoru just shrugs.

(he’s going to lie his way through this, just like everything else, thank you).

“it’s a bad day,” he’ll say, like the two children will comprehend that. like they don’t know what a bad day means. “she’s just tired.”

he could make a million excuses for you. oh, you didn’t get enough sleep last night. oh, you’ve only had one cup of coffee today. oh, the world is a truly terrible place and it’s only natural that it runs you down.

but he leaves them with the simplest of explanations, instead. maybe it’s his subtle way of denying that there’s anything wrong. that you could be upset about something. it doesn’t matter, anyway.

and tsumiki, ever so trusting of all of you, listens to him. if satoru says that you’re okay, then so does she. she’ll draw you a picture at school or try to help you make their lunches in the morning, but you’re fine. her questions end with an answer.

megumi, on the other hand, has never believed a word that satoru has said.

so when the older man swears that you’re okay, that they don’t need to worry, megumi only begins to worry harder.

he sees that look on your face when you walk in the room, and megumi knows. maybe it’s because he’s the most attuned to you, out of everyone, in particular. maybe it’s because he’s observant, or too worrisome for his age (as you tell him).

but he knows.

and if satoru says one thing, megumi’s going to believe the other.

(plus the two of you have always had a symbiotic relationship. you worry about him, and he worries about you. you laugh at him, and he gives a little lip twitch in return).

so satoru is not surprised when megumi brings it up for the fourth time in a week.

“you want me to what, exactly?”

“you can talk to them, can’t you?” he repeats, giving satoru a bland look. something like ‘are you serious.’ “they know you.”

satoru snorts. “i don’t think my bosses will appreciate me telling them what they can or can’t do.”

megumi gives him another look.

and yeah, so satoru already does that. they still don’t appreciate it.

he sighs, smiling at the boy. anything to mess with him, really. he ruffles megumi’s hair. “kid, she’s fine. i can’t just tell them to give her a couple of weeks off. there has to be a reason. and,” he adds, cheerfully. “i’ve been told it’s impolite to speak on someone’s behalf without their input.”

“you don’t care about being polite,” megumi argues, crossing his arms.

satoru groans internally. he’s really not going to let this go.

it’s not that satoru necessarily disagrees, but anything he does to help you is going to be refuted with a “butt out,” or “leave me alone, satoru.”

“true,” he says, grinning as he mocks the boys stance. “but i do care about being yelled at. particularly by your mother.”

“she needs a break.”

satoru rolls his eyes. “she’s getting one. the next couple of days are free, and she’s taking a nap right now.”

megumi frowns, even deeper than usual, and stares satoru down until he breaks.

“megumi,” the man groans, childishly, pushing the boy out of the room. “you don’t need to worry about her. chill out. just go back to reading about rocks or whatever you were doing.”

“it’s geology.”

satoru waves a hand, indifferent.

(secretly trying to come up with a way to get you to talk to him. he can’t ask because you’ll just ignore him. he can’t force it out of you because that would get the two of you nowhere.

what other options are left, really? you’ve put satoru in a terrible position).

“then can we get something, instead?” megumi asks, almost pleading. “flowers, or… whatever girls like.”

“y/n already has flowers. i bought them.”

“buy something else.”

“who taught you to be this stubborn?”

megumi only scowls at him.

satoru sighs, scratching his head. he knows he should do something—but he’s so used to sitting around and waiting for you to fix everything.

yes, he does recognize that it’s a terrible habit, and completely unfair. he also recognizes that he is the worst person in the world.

eventually he sighs. “okay. how about i order dinner?” he asks, almost wincing. it’s the most natural response—everything can be fixed with food, in satoru’s sophisticated opinion. “that’ll be easy. want to go ask mom what she wants?”

megumi practically runs to your room, leaving satoru with no time to remind him that you’re probably asleep, knocking just briefly—from what satoru can hear—before going in.

he tip-toes up to the door, also wanting to check in.

satoru is nothing if not nosy.

and he might as well let megumi do all of the dirty work.

“um, i don’t care,” he hears you saying. “whatever you guys want.”

“it’s for you.”

there’s a pause. then, “really, megs, i’m not very hungry, so…”

megumi is frowning down at you when satoru steps in.

“good nap?” he asks, smiling and sitting at the edge of your bed.

“you don’t need to get dinner. it’s my turn.”

he waves a hand. “i feel like takeout.”

you frown, about to argue when megumi speaks up, glancing between the two of you with an almost furious expression.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft but mad. like usual. satoru realizes that he’s been tricked into contributing to this.

“what?”

“why are you upset?”

“upset?” you repeat, eyes widening. “i’m not upset, megu—“

“are you sick?”

“no,” you say, immediately. “i’m just a little tired but it’s—“

“megumi,” satoru interrupts, trying to ignore the almost hurt look on your face—the glance you send his way, pleading and worried. he knows you hate this the most. “let’s let mom sleep some more, okay? tsumiki and you can decide what you want—“

“no.”

and neither of you can argue, or console the confused boy, before he’s climbing into your bed with a determined look on his face.

satoru tried to grab on to him, but megumi is having none of that, shaking him off before he can get a good grip. you’re looking at satoru anxiously, and this is the worst.

if satoru knows anything about you, it’s that you don’t want to be coddled. you don’t want to accept any help, even if it’s from your sweet, concerned son.

“megumi—“ you say, though, satoru notes, don’t make any attempts to move him when he struggles to get under the covers with you, or when he just sits by your side, barely touching you.

“i’m staying here.”

“really, bud, i’m okay. you don’t need to worry about me.”

“you’re sad.”

“i’m not.”

megumi looks at you, and satoru watches as you both share a glance. an internal conversation he’ll never get to be apart of.

for once in his life he’s not even jealous about it.

“it’s…” you say, but the two boys watch as your shoulders slack and your face drops. all at once, you lose color, life, and just sit there. “it’s fine.”

you say it to them, but it sounds more like a reminder to yourself.

satoru’s face falls. he has no idea what to say, what to do to help you—he’s spent so much time denying that there was anything wrong, that he could do anything to help, and now he’s got no answers.

he feels like an idiot, sitting there. megumi shouldn’t be taking more initiative, he should be the one worrying about you, the one to go to—

megumi doesn’t say anything though. he only moves closer to you, not complaining when your arm wraps around his shoulder and you hold him to you.

like a life vest. a support in all of the vastness.

he doesn’t need to say ‘it’s okay,’ or ‘i’m here for you,’ for the words to ring out across the the air.

and, satoru realizes, quickly, he’s only doing what you do for them. what you do best.

climbing in beside them and making sure they know that they’re not alone. being that support, no matter how unwanted.

megumi’s learned from the best.

“sorry,” you mutter to him. “i know im gross.”

megumi shakes his head and settles into you even further. and the boy doesn’t cuddle—or, at least, without being forced—but your face softens as he leans against you, allowing this kind of intimacy.

and, maybe, satoru thinks, that’s the problem with all of you.

no one knows quite what to say. what to do to help someone with something that they can’t understand. neither he or megumi is sure how to dig you out of this hole.

none of you are very good with words.

but, at least, satoru knows how to be good at this.

he sets his glasses on your bedside table, and he moves you both over with ease, smiling when you both grunt at his intrusion.

and then you’re a tower of people, all leaning against one another. building blocks stacked on top of each other.

you relax into satoru almost instantly and he kisses the top of your head, feeling some sort of pride—just at the fact that you’ll let him be here, with you.

maybe that’s the thing with families, he thinks. no one needs to say anything for it to be okay.

and the uneasiness sits there with all of you. the past couple of weeks—the distancing and disassociating—linger there.

there’s nothing he can say to make everything all better. he could destroy the entire world right now, save for your house, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

but this is nice. a hug might not fix everything, but it won’t make anything worse

and after a minute or two, you say: “where’s tsumiki?”

and she peeks her head out from your door, smiling at all three of you. it takes her three seconds to jump on the bed, having been waiting there the whole time, the final piece to your messed up puzzle.

[unearthly-doting]

Heyyyy could you possibly do

Finding their soulmate: creepypasta edition

any creepypasta characters you want (including Jeff the killer & Homicidal Liu pls 🙏)

finding their soulmate: creepypasta edition.

notes: crying i miss my colored text :( i got another two soulmate posts coming ur way soon guys bc that's in high demand it seems so!! also im on my tablet writing all of this and tumblr mobile sucks so if there's any mistakes blame them not me. anyways send requests for things if u want. love u all !

includes: jeff the killer, homicidal liu, eyeless jack, nina the killer, the bloody painter, and ticci toby.

warnings: not proofread and written while i was super tired so, yandere content, mdni, inconsistent length, reader injury in jeff and toby's parts, stalking, mild poly content in liu's part bc he and sully r a package deal here, kidnapping, breaking and entering, murder, this is all actually pretty tame, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, overprotective behavior. i think that's all??

JEFF THE KILLER — didn't have a soulmate. He didn't have any soulmark, there was no name on his wrist or a string around his finger. The universe had destined him to be alone, it seems. When he was younger, this had been crushing. Why did his brother get to have a soulmate but he didn't? What was so different about him that he didn't deserve a destined love?

Though, after he became the man he is today, Jeff found that he didn't care about soulmates. He probably would've killed his soulmate, if he had one. If anything, he found himself developing a burning hatred at the very concept of soulmates.

Everyone had always played it out to be something wonderful, something people were lucky to have. But he's seen otherwise. He's killed soulmates who have turned on each other just to try and save their own life. It's all a bunch of romanticized bullshit.

And he thinks you're a dumbass for believing that your soulmate would be a good person. Jeff doesn't understand why he hasn't killed you yet, you're just some nobody that he for some reason enjoyed the company of. Maybe it's because you never try changing him. Or maybe it's boredom, who knows.

But he hates when you talk about your soulmate that you've yet to meet. You speak as if you're already in love, and it leaves this suffocating feeling in his chest each time. It didn't feel like anger or annoyance, but he was too prideful to label it as jealousy. Why would he be jealous?

Why do you want to meet your soulmate so badly anyway? You have him. He may not be your soulmate, but does it really matter? You better really hope this man never realizes he's in love with you because you're actually fucked if he does, like…

The moment he comes to terms with his feelings for you, you're never meeting your soulmate. He's crossing out their name on your wrist with his knife and replacing it with his own. You wanted to meet your soulmate so badly, so there. Now he's your soulmate. His name is forever carved on your skin, after all.

He may even force you to carve your name into his arm as well to further solidify the whole ‘soulmate’ thing you so desperately craved. You're stuck with him now, like it or not. No amount of screaming and crying will change what's happened.

Jeff doesn't understand why you're so upset. You wanted this. You were practically begging him for it, always telling him your dream life with the one you're destined with. Seriously, you should've expected this from him.

But it's okay, he'll be the soulmate that you've always wanted.

He'll stay by your side. He'll kill anyone who dares to even think about you. You said so yourself, you don't need anyone so long as you have your soulmate.

Really, he's just giving you what you want. Though he won't lie, he can't help but feel a sick and twisted pleasure at having you depend on him. He likes having you around, even if it's with your mouth taped shut to keep you quiet.

Maybe this soulmate thing isn't as bad as he thought it was.

HOMICIDAL LIU — had always dreamed of meeting his soulmate when he was younger. Something about soulmates always fascinated him, and he absolutely loved hearing stories of soulmates meeting and falling in love.

He learned from a pretty young age that whoever his soulmate was, he shared scars with them. This was something he discovered when he felt a stinging sensation on his arm one day and he could see the scar manifest on his skin. He had been so fascinated by it, and even excitedly showed it off to his parents and Jeff as if it were some sort of reward.

Though, after nearly dying at the hand of his little brother, Liu had become… terrified at the thought of meeting his soulmate. He knew that you shared his scars now. You probably got weird looks from people on the street because of them, right?

And it must've been a horrific experience, waking up in the middle of the night to blinding pain all over your face and neck and arms, unable to stop the scars from forming, not knowing what was happening. You probably hated him. He wouldn't blame you if he did.

But when Liu met you, there was no way he'd be able to let you go. At first, he had just seen you in passing, He knew you were his soulmate the moment he laid eyes on you because you weren't even trying to hide the scars you had. You wore them proudly. He had followed you home that night, just to make sure you were safe.

He felt bad about it, but he couldn't help but come back the next day. His mother must be yelling at him from her grave, scolding him for stalking his soulmate instead of just talking to them like a normal person. A simple mistake on his end (aka Sully literally forced the man in front of you) led to the two of you actually meeting.

You had been so concerned, asking him if he were okay. It had been years since he sustained these injuries, but you still asked. You had always wanted to ask, ever since that night. Your pain was dull in comparison to what he must've gone through, and Liu nearly cried experiencing your kindness because he simply did not deserve it.

Liu tries really hard to have a normal relationship with you, he really does, but he's so utterly paranoid about your safety almost constantly when he's away from you. It makes him sick to his stomach imagining the danger you could potentially find yourself in without him around to keep you safe.

It didn't help that Sully only amplified these thoughts and good lord, how would you react to meeting Sully? Liu had always been very careful making sure that he never fronted when you were around, but Sully was starting to become ansty, eager to meet you.

When Liu wasn't hunting Jeff, he was with you. Sometimes you knew, but most of the time, you didn't. Stalking you was second nature at this point, and he doubts it's something he'll ever stop doing. Besides, it's not like he's hurting anyone by stalking the person he loves. Is it completely wrong and a violation of privacy and respect? Yes. Does he feel guilty? Absolutely. Will he stop? No chance. This is for your safety, after all.

Sully thinks he's a fucking fool behaving this way all for one person just because you're his soulmate (which he also thinks is dumb, by the way.) but then he actually meets you for the first time. You had immediately clocked in on the fact that he wasn't Liu, even though Sully prides himself on mimicking the man fairly well. Looks like you have two soulmates now! Yay!

Unfortunately for you, Sully is a lot more direct than Liu. Liu keeps his possessive thoughts to himself whilst Sully makes it very clear that you belonged to them. Liu's affection was hesitant, scared that he may hurt you if he's too eager. Sully's affection was almost suffocating, the way he'd cling to you and refuse to let go.

And if you ever decide that being with them is too much, trust me when I say they will go to great lengths to keep you with them. Liu isn't above locking you away somewhere if it means keeping you safe, and Sully won't hesitate to kill someone just to keep you in check.

Liu just wants to keep you safe. You can't protect yourself, so let him do it for you.

EYELESS JACK — was confused by the blackened, withered string connected to his pinkie. He knew what soulmates were, though he's not sure why the remnant of one was still tied to him. After his… changes… he shouldn't have a soulmate at all, not even the remnants of one.

Even the smallest string around his finger meant the bond was still there. It made no sense, it defied nature itself just by existing. He didn't understand, but he couldn't deny that he was curious. Whoever was on the other side of this string was destined to be with him, how could he not be curious?

It took time, but Jack had plenty to spare. He followed the string as best he could. The poor thing was so fragile, the smallest tug could tear the bond apart. He's not sure what he'll do when he finds the one he has a fragile bond with, to be honest. Soulmates aren't really… useful, to him. His only driving force is survival. Food. Nothing else is important.

Yet this was, oddly enough. There was just something deep inside of him telling him that he needed to find his soulmate.

And when he found the end of his string, it was connected to you. Now, Jack has no memory of who he was before becoming a flesh-eating demon. He was human once, he thinks, so maybe that's why there's something so familiar about you. A long forgotten part of himself was craving you.

And you? You were utterly horrified to find someone that resembles your missing best friend in your home one night. This was Jack, and yet… he wasn't. You didn't know this man. You didn't want to know this man. But he didn't care. Jack was dead set on having you.

He wouldn't leave you alone. He showed up every single night just to watch you. It was unnerving. To you, it felt like he was waiting for the right time to strike. You were waiting for him to kill you, to devour your soul or whatever.

To him, he was protecting you.

You were his mate. That's what he recognized you as. And as your mate, it was his duty to protect you. He didn't see his behavior as odd. To him, he was just providing for you. He saw no harm in breaking into your home every night to make sure you were safe.

Jack may not understand fully why he's attached to you like this, but he can make an educated guess. It's clear that you knew him. Or, you did, at least. You look at him as if you're looking at a ghost. Clearly, you were someone he's always been attached to. Though, it seems his demonic traits have amplified that attachment.

He won't hesitate to hunt you down if you try running away.

There's nowhere you can go where he won't find you. He'll follow you to the ends of the earth, if he must.

Jack doesn't need you to love him back. Hell, he doesn't need you to like him. He just needs you, in any way he can have you. His entire being aches when he's not with you.

So here you are, stuck with the creature. You're haunted by him, really. And, to be honest, you're not sure if you wanted him to leave.

NINA THE KILLER — wrote literal fanfic on how she wanted her first meeting with her soulmate to go. All she ever wanted was for someone to love her, so when she learned that the inner voice that all of her thoughts was in belonged to her soulmate, she was utterly ecstatic!

This was the only thing in life that mattered to her. Nothing else was important. Everyone in her life thought she was strange, how obsessed she was over someone she hasn't even met.

But if they could hear your voice, they'd understand. Whenever she needed comfort, she would just think random thoughts so she could hear your voice.

And when she finally meets you, it's like something out of a fairytale. To her, at least. She had just broken into your home to kill you, but when you begged for your life, it was like everything clicked.

She looked at you as if you were everything she could ever need, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.

Nina had no plans of letting you go now that she finally had you. One moment, you're in your home, and then the next, you're waking up in a cabin deep in the forest, decorated to seem like a cozy home.

She acted as if she hadn't kidnapped you. In her mind, you two were pretty much married already. You're her soulmate, after all! That's better than marriage in her eyes. And if you don't play along with her, she won't hesitate to remind you just exactly what she could do to you.

Not that she would ever actually hurt you!

No, Nina could never do that. You're the only thing that has kept her sane all these years. Your voice is the only thing that keeps her going these days.

You just gotta understand that Nina can't live without you. She'd never hurt you, but she's not above scaring you into compliance if it means you'll play along with her fantasies.

But if you ignore the fact that she kidnapped you and is holding you hostage in a cabin so deep in the woods that your chance of escape is slim to none, she's actually probably the best soulmate you could ever ask for. When you actually play along with her, that is.

She doesn't force too much affection on you. If she wants to cuddle you, she will, like it or not. But she never takes it any further than that. She respects your boundaries in her own sick and twisted way.

There's no escaping her love now that she finally has you. She'll drown you in it until it's all you'll want.

THE BLOODY PAINTER — had no real interest in meeting his soulmate, even if it meant his world lacked color. The lack of color in his world didn't deter from his passion for art, and he didn't need to see color to create a masterpiece. If anything, the black and white world he lived in seemed to fit him perfectly.

Sure, he had a few passing thoughts on what his soulmate might be like, but it's nothing he ever really entertained. And if he ever met his soulmate, he sincerely doubts he'd want any real connection with them. Rather, he doubts they'd want anything to with him.

So imagine his surprise when he bumps into you one day and color suddenly bursts into his world. It's dizzying, for the both of you, but all Helen can focus on is the red you were wearing.

Red is a beautiful color on you.

It's an awkward start to your relationship, mostly because it was so sudden. Neither of you really knew what to do, and in the beginning, it honestly seemed as if you two just weren't meant to be. But somehow, it seemed to work out.

Helen really didn't want you finding out about his whole serial killer thing. He wanted a normal relationship with you. Something that would separate him from the whole ‘Bloody Painter’ title the media had given him.

He could spend hours just drawing you. You invade his every thought most days, and he can draw you from memory. He has numerous sketchbooks just filled to the brim with drawings of you. And almost all of them feature the color red in some way.

Art was his main way of expressing his love to you. His expression was always apathetic and his words never felt like enough to him, so what better way to show his love than by painting you masterpieces? Almost every piece of art he made these days were dedicated to you. Even his murders.

It was only a matter of time before you learned about his side hobby, unfortunately. You were smart, something he loved very dearly about you. He's not sure when you started to suspect him of being a killer, but he knew you were starting to become wary of him. Whenever the news talked about a recent murder, he could always feel the way your gaze drifted over to him, even if for a moment.

To be honest, he didn't see any reason to confirm nor deny your suspensions. He was curious to see whether you'd stay with him or if you'd try to leave the longer you suspected him. Not that he'd let you, of course. Helen couldn't lose you, you were his muse. If he lost you, how could he ever create art?

Helen would only do something if you tried telling someone about your suspicions. Maybe your friend or family member was a detective, but whoever you try telling is going to end up a bloodied corpse in front of you, your boyfriend standing over their corpse with a look of mild disgust.

Their blood smearing onto your skin when Helen gently cups your cheeks, telling you how careless you had been, how you left him with no choice but to kill that person. You were freaked out by the entire situation, but Helen wouldn't let you go.

Red truly is a beautiful color on you.

TICCI TOBY — genuinely had no idea he had a soulmate, simply because he couldn't feel pain. Truth be told, he didn't even know what soulmates were until he was already a proxy. Kate had been kind enough to explain it to him, when he questioned the mark on her neck.

It was a concept that he found interesting because the idea of meeting someone who would finally understand him was too good to pass up. At the same time, he couldn't help but think it to be bullshit. Toby had always been disillusioned to love, even if he couldn't quite remember why. It just seemed too good to be true.

He wasn't even sure if he had a soulmate, truth be told. He didn't have any marks on him as far as he could tell, and there were no words or names or anything like that. He just assumed he was one of the rare few that didn't have a soulmate.

But then he met you.

You, the newest proxy. Fresh meat, dazed and confused and in need of training. He was like you once, years ago. He trained himself, too stubborn to listen to anyone else. Because of that, Slender always made him train any new proxy it brought. It annoyed him beyond belief, but he didn't have much of a choice.

There was something strange about you. He's not quite sure what it was, but he found it strangely difficult to look away from you for too long. There was just… something drawing him to you. He only understood why when he cut himself on his hand when he retrieved one of his hatchets he had you throwing.

You had gasped. It was a pained one, so of course he had to check you for injuries. When he found the cut on your hand, you had pointed out the fact that he had a similar one on his own. It was… weird, truthfully. And maybe he was being dumb, or whatever, but Toby couldn't help but wonder if… were you his soulmate?

The very thought was enough to drag his hatchet across his arm, watching as the very same cut he had given himself tore into your skin as well. It had left him speechless, to say the least. He felt conflicted in so many ways, and to be honest, he avoided you in the beginning. He had nobody for the longest time, and now he suddenly has a soulmate? It was just a bit much for him, and he needed the space.

But trust that once he's accepted that he has someone in his life now, you're stuck with him. Toby isn't a physical person, so you don't have to worry about him actually sticking to you, but he always seems to be keeping an eye on you. For Toby, he's always been hyper aware of his surroundings because if he's not, he could get hurt without realizing it and then bleed out and die, so sad. But now he has to make sure you don't get hurt as well, already becoming increasingly protective over you.

Any missions tasked to you, Toby will always join you. Doesn't matter how simple the mission is, or if you or Slender try to argue with him, he's going.

He's so protective over you that it borders on possessive. He hates when you get close to anyone, and the moment you leave his line of sight, he's hunting you down. Friend or foe, Toby doesn't want you near them. You have to understand that everyone has bad intentions. Hell, Toby himself acknowledges his behavior to be bad as well, he's well aware of that fact. But to him, it's for your own good. You can trust him, but you can't trust anyone else.

And there's literally no chance that you'll be able to leave him if you tried. As a proxy of Slenderman, you're stuck with him. Slender doesn't care about your comfort, it only cares about you completing the missions it gives to you. Sure, it finds Toby's behavior strange and mildly annoying, but it's not causing you any physical harm, so it simply doesn't care.

But Toby would never, under any circumstances, hurt you. That's something he will vehemently refuse to do no matter what, so you could use that against him if need be.

Just… just let him have this. Let him have you.

[thatsdemko]

ruin that friendship - l.norris

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

warnings: playful banter + playful teasing + goes from 0 to 100 towards the end

a/n: thank u to @userlando’s anons and thank u to my love cay( @oconso ) for helping me with the plot 🫶

the mattress shifts, you can feel the dip beside you. a groan escapes your lips knowing what time it is. morning had come far too early, and whoever was making themselves comfortable in your bed had no right to do so.

“get out.” you grumble, the grogginess takes over your voice, it strains your vocals making you sound faint and tired—which you were.

he chuckles, whoever it was, sounded awfully familiar to your ears, but not enough to recognize with your eyes closed. your face is pushed further into your pillow to block out the light that comes from the hallway.

“you’re not going to get up and greet me?” he asks, and the mattress shifts once more, his body is closer to yours. you can smell his cologne, the scent fills your lungs and you instantly remove your face from the pillow due to familiarity.

your eyes flutter open, despite the crusties that refuse to let your lashes lift up. there he, lando, is sitting in your bed, “get your shoes off my comforter!” you launch your body at his lower half, pushing his clean air Jordan’s off the white linen.

“god you’re still annoying.” he gets up off your bed in content of officially waking you up, “also, I want that shirt back, I never said you could keep it.” he adds before closing the door behind him on the way out of your bedroom.

the silence allows you to get comfortable against the mattress again. you feel sleep sink into your body, eyes just beginning to fall heavy, “hey! I found your notecards on the kitchen table, did you want to study?”

you take a pillow beside you and throw it in the direction of his voice, “get out!” you sit upright pointing your index finger towards your bedroom door that’s open once again, allowing the light in.

he chuckles, settling himself back against your mattress, he begins to flip through your note cards, “cognitive dissonance? what the hell is that?” he asks, half expecting you to respond, “it’s called get out of my room, asshole.” your voice is muffled against the pillow, middle finger shoved into the air to show him how you feel.

he laughs once more grabbing a hold of your hand, pushing the finger back into your palm with the rest of them, “come on, I’m bored max left to get bagels like twenty minutes ago.” he whines, you can feel him kicking his legs against your mattress making you turn your head in his direction.

“are your shoes off?”

“why do you care about if I have shoes on?” he retorts back, the slight attitude that you’ve always hated since you were kids. since max met the asshole who pushed your buttons like no tomorrow.

you sit up again, facing him, due to the way you were previously laying, “because this is white linen sheets. unlike you, I cannot afford to buy another comforter.” you hiss, having enough of him for the morning, you get up out of your bed.

“you still haven’t answered my question,” he says, arms crossed against his chest watching you turn on your heel, “what’s cognitive dissonance?”

you chew the inside of your lip before a long sighs leaves your lips knowing he won’t give it up, “it’s when a persons beliefs and attitudes are inconsistent with their value.”

“can you give me an example?”

“can you shut the fuck up?”

—

the cool pool water drips onto your warm legs. the cool droplets against your body send a screech out your lips, as you pull your legs into your chest and fling open your eyes, “god, first you wake me up this morning now this?!”

he laughs, it echoes across the openness, you never realized how loud he could be— at least not until he was in front of you laughing, screaming, or talking. all things that irritated your middle school and teenage mind that seemed to carry on into later life. lando was all your brother had for years, and it seems evident the two never parted ways despite the ending of Max’s driving career.

“you don’t want to jump in?” he shakes his wet curls out with a towel, sitting down in the chair beside you. he takes the chance to notice the freckles on your nose, the pinky color to your cheeks, “you could use some sunscreen.” he notes, tossing you the bottle that’s in his chair.

you let the can hit you in the leg. his comment wasn’t much of a demand or question, rather a statement at the red and pink across your body, and you take the time to apply the white cream all across the parts exposed to the sun.

he sits in the chair, scrolling through his film and taking the chance to share what he’s captured with you. lando’s love for photography was not something you ever expected out of him, it was very sudden. one minute he didn’t have a camera, the next he’s taking photographs of your parents at dinner.

“did you finish studying?” he asks, attention shifting to you, you watch him move in his seat to face you, “didn’t I do a good job as a tutor?”

you scoff, it’s something you couldn’t control when he said it. despite the egocentric comment, he was a patient tutor. unlike max, who grew angry each time you got a question wrong, lando was kind enough to read hints off the notecards for help.

“you were something that’s for sure.” you turn back to the pool, watching your brother and his girlfriend race each other around. you find yourself turning to lando once again, reaching for the sunglasses he’s now sporting, “thanks for helping me.”

he nods, allowing you to carefully remove his expensive ray-bans and place them on the bridge of your nose, “you’re a good friend.” you say, turning away towards the pool.

while you turn away, you can’t see the lump he swallows in his throat, the eye roll he gives you, and the tiny nod, “that’s what friends are for, right?” he asks, standing up from the chair to remove his glasses from your face. his chain hovers just above your eyes, and he leans a little bit forward, lips nearly inches apart, “cause what we have? I don’t think that’s a friendship, babe.”

you can feel the leftover droplets of water in his hair hit your face, some across your bare stomach too. he’s about to pull away when you reach upward, lips desperately pressing against his.

“help a friend out, I think I forgot how to have sex?” your eyes flicker from his beautiful blue ones, down to his lips, his sweet soft plump pink lips that you desperately want running all over your hot body.

he exhales an excited but breathy chuckle, “it’s my pleasure, darling. you’re lucky you’ve got the best tutor in town.”

[theshadowsingersraven]

I don't understand why people are so adamant about the idea that SJM would/could change her entire writing style, love for fated mates, and patterns for Elain and Elain only.

Like, why? Why does everyone suddenly care about the "ethics" of a mating bond or the "wants of the character" just when it comes to Elain? Why do people suddenly stop loving fated mates, forced proximity, strangers to lovers, etc. when it comes to Elain? Why do people suddenly believe that her love story with her mate could overshadow her own growth and development when that didn't happen with Feyre or Nesta?

I don't understand why people in this fanbase treat Elain with this random ""autonomy"" that was never given to Feyre or Nesta. It's giving such infantilization for a character that these people swear up and down is underestimated (true) and yet they do the exact same thing the Inner Circle does, but in real life.

"Elain doesn't like Lucien!"

1. We don't know that. We don't have her POV, and she's only ever said that she doesn't want a mate, not that she has an issue with Lucien. We need her POV to know for certain how she feels. If you don't think we need that and her "body language" or "observable reactions" are enough, respectfully, nothing you say about Elain is going to be worth my time. If you can't acknowledge that a character can have more complex internal feelings that don't match her external expressions, especially considering how Nesta and Feyre behaved with their mates prior, then I don't want to hear any of your analysis. It seems surface-level at best, and I'm not interested in starting and ending character analysis at their surface-level, external behaviors.

2. Okay, say for instance that she doesn't like Lucien.

And?

Did we not all read Feyre going through not one but two enemies to lovers, forced proximity dynamics with both Tamlin and then Rhysand?

Feyre quite literally referred to Tamlin as her captor, and built traps in her room because she didn't feel safe in his manor.

Did any one of those same people give nearly as much of a shit that she didn't like either of them or wring their hands about it to this degree?

I can tell you one thing: I shipped Feylin during ACOTAR and then Feysand during ACOMAF, as I'm sure plenty of people did, too. And a majority of these people adore Feysand.

What about Nessian during ACOFAS and ACOSF?

Did any one of them give a shit that Nesta didn't have a "choice" either when SJM wrote a forced proximity love story for her character? When Nesta kept pushing away Cassian and told him to leave her alone? And Cassian believed that she wanted nothing to do with him? Shouldn't that greatly upset those people?

It didn't upset me because I like enemies to lovers and forced proximity tropes. I didn't question the morals of ethics of the tropes or the mating bond during their book. And if those same people didn't either, then I raise them all, as well as generally most of the fanbase this question:

Who cares if Elain doesn't like Lucien? Elain is a fictional character written by a fated mates and enemies-to-lovers author.

Like...what do you guys think you're reading? Do you not expect her character to change and evolve and thus feel differently about things?

I'm tired of these lukewarm, inconsistent takes that only prove that people just don't want her to be with Lucien because he isn't "as hot" (when everyone in the series remarks on how handsome Lucien is) or broody like Azriel is. I'm tired of people projecting themselves onto Elain and claim that they want what "she wants" when not a single one of us know for sure what she wants, and it's just an excuse for people to feel "correct" or "just" in their preference.

Everyone wants something for Elain if you have skin in the game for her endgame ship. Because you have to. Elain will never be able to choose her endgame for herself because she is a character, and SJM or fanfic authors writing her decide for her.

That is just how writing works. Love to break it to you.

Yes, she wanted Azriel at one point. But he rejected her by calling their almost-kiss a mistake, and then she gave back the necklace. There are no interactions between them on page after this.

We no longer know for certain what Elain "wants". We only have the last time SJM put on page what Elain currently feels toward Azriel and Lucien from other character's point of view.

Elain's character deserves better than the infantilizing stans that treat her as if she's somehow so beleaguered and victimized. She's not. She's a character with trauma, just like her sisters. She's a character that people will villianize or adore, just like her sisters. She's a character that gets both warranted and unfair criticism, just like her sisters. She's just a character.

Everyone's love or appreciation or disdain for her is real, but Elain herself will never be real. And some people really, really need to internalize this.

[calcifiedunderland]

Pride and Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

The Keeper of the Underworld: I. Shroud

Introduction, or Pick another route!

Idia x GN Reader (they/them)

Warnings: P&P-level angst and miscommunication, some cringe dialogue, parties, possibly ooc Idia, I wrote this before playing Book 6 so I apologize if there’s any inconsistencies

Notes: The level of overthinking I put into these fics is unreal 💀 First and foremost, thank you all for your patience!! Idia was hard to write, but I hope you enjoy, shrimpies~

———

Well this is certainly something, you thought. Of all the things you’d witnessed at NRC, (even overblots), you didn’t think you’d ever see Idia Shroud at one of Kalim’s parties.

You sipped on your drink when a shock of bright blue flames came in the corner of your eye, contrasting the orange-red of Scarabia. Kalim lead Idia into the dorm, bright and sunny, compared to the look on Idia’s face. Poor guy couldn’t even escape, because Cater and Rook ambled in behind him, chatting happily.

It was like the beginning of a joke: A sultan, a card soldier, a huntsman, and a blue flame-headed gamer walk into a room.

Kalim spotted you and grinned, grabbing Idia’s hoodie sleeve and dragging him over too. “Hey (name)! I’m glad you could make it!”

You smiled at the Scarabia Housewarden, “Thanks Kalim! I-“ At that moment, Jamil reached him to drag him away, mumbling exasperatedly to Kalim about being careful. Kalim laughed Jamil off, “sorry (name)! I’ll see you later, okay?” “Alright then…” you trailed off and turned to Idia, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“So…” you rocked on your heels. To be honest, you didn’t know how to approach him sometimes. Sure, you’d gamed with him a few times (with heavy insistence from Ortho) and you weren’t on his ‘avoid at all costs’ ranking list, but Idia did have his odd moments. Some days, you two would get along like a house on fire. Other times, it was like Idia hated you - avoiding you even in tablet-mode, and ghosting your chats.

You’d like to think that your more friendly moments were the ones that Idia counted, but sometimes it was hard to get a read on the guy.

“I didn’t know that you’d be at Kalim’s party today. I thought Ortho said there was an event in… um…?” You finished, cringing at your vagueness. You might not have known much about the game he played, even though he’d made you play it when you came over to Ignihyde, but you knew he probably didn’t want to be here of all places.

Idia’s hair flared a bit, and he looked resigned and moody. He pulled out his tablet. Ya, the event dropped today but I got mobbed by kalim + the extroverts. “That sucks,” you said, “I got dragged here by Ace. Still, it’s nice to see you.” In the oil lamp lighting, you could’ve sworn Idia’s hair turned a bit pink.

You were both silent, and you opened your mouth to speak when Lilia yelled out from the front, “let’s get this party started!” Kalim started drumming wildly, and then electric guitar swelled. Lilia began screaming heavy-metal-style into the mic. Around you, everyone started dancing, and even you found yourself moving to the rhythm.

You glanced at Idia every now and again, but he looked vaguely annoyed and tired despite the liveliness. He looks so over it, you thought. Probably since Kalim maybe dragged him here. You looked around, biting your lip when you noticed your friends having a grand old time on the dance floor, and kind of wanted to go too. Still, it wasn’t every day you saw Idia, and you wanted to do something with him. Especially since he was… well, here.

“So, Idia…” Idia’s eyes snapped to yours, dull. You rocked back on your feet, “do you dance?” Idia rolled his eyes, and you felt your heart sink, for some reason. Obvi not, id probs distract everyone anyway. And also id just rather not if I can help it. Your smile wavered, “c’mon Idia, anyone can dance, even if it’s not good!” Idia typed rapidly into the tablet, i mean ur not wrong. Like literally anyone can dance but ppl only do it bc its wat normies do.

You opened your mouth, then squared your shoulders, words failing you. Idia shoved a hand into his pockets and opened an app on the tablet, scrolling. You swayed for a bit, feeling awkward while Idia kept his eyes glued to the screen, a frown creasing his brows. Finally you shrugged your shoulders, trying to shake that sinking-feeling off.

You stepped into the crowd of dancing people, swaying to the music and trying not to look over at the blue flames swaying in the corner. Unknowing to you, Idia glanced up from his tablet every few minutes, trying to catch a glimpse of you, before trudging back to the cold chrome of Ignihyde, back to his dorm.

———

Ugh, could this get any worse?

Idia flopped onto his bed, shoving his headphones on and opening the mobile game on his phone. Not only did he get a late start on the game event, but he flubbed a chance to talk to you. Even if you did want to dance like all the other non-introverts at Scarabia. Thank Sevens Ortho didn’t know he missed his chance, otherwise the little robot would’ve torn Idia apart.

Idia shut his eyes and went over the details. Doing this IRL was trash-tier. Why couldn’t this just be a good-old-fashioned otome game, or romance anime? First you meet the love interest, then you find things they’re into, then you talk to them more. Then finally you confess, and cue the outro. He’d watched countless shojo and romance anime’s, and that was the basic outline. Eventually, the ethereal, gorgeous, smart, kind protagonist (aka you) would fall in love with their love interest (aka him) and it would all work out. Boom. Happily ever after.

Ah, yes. He could see it now.

Cherry blossom petals rained around both of you. Where are they coming from, this campus doesn’t grow cherry blossoms? Whatever, don’t question it. Anyway, the petals fluttered past your beautiful, sparkling eyes as you stared up at Idia with adoration and love. Idia stared down at you with full-rizz, kabedoning you against the wall.

“Oh, Idia-senpai!” You’d cry, eyes turning into hearts as sparkles and pink flower petals surround you both. “You’re so cool and not cringe at all! I could never want one of those normies! You’re the only one for me! Please date me!” And then Ortho would set off the heart-shaped fireworks and you two would finally kiss-kiss-fall-in-love, just like the popular anime Our High School Has A Host Club And The Leader Falls In Love With Me?!

“Whee hee hee…” Idia stared off into the distance, giggling ominously to himself and hair turning pink at the ends. His character on the screen went into idle mode, and he didn’t even hear when Ortho floated into the room. “Big brother?” Ortho gently tapped him on the shoulder, yanking him from his shojo daydream. Idia jumped, hair flaring. “AAAIIIIEEEE-“ Ortho jumped back, eyes wide but not detecting any signs of injury on Idia.

Idia breathed heavily, wide-eyed. “Ortho! Wh-when did-? I wasn’t-!” Ortho analyzed his heart beat, noting that Idia had traces of blush on his cheeks and his erratic behavior pointed to- “Were you thinking about (name) (last name)?” Ortho asked innocently, his theory proven when Idia flushed and went pinker. The younger boy suddenly got an idea.

“You know, (Name)’s heart rate goes up when they interact with you,” Ortho watched his brother’s eyes widen, “even when you’re not there, when you’re mentioned, their heart rate increases by 45% and they are more likely to be in a positive mood. 82% of the time, they regard you in a positive way.” His eyes lit up happily with realization, “If my calculations are correct, they have feelings for you!”

Idia sat there, thinking. What were the odds you would like him back? Sure, you made him happy, and more importantly made Ortho happy. And it was actually nice talking to you. And he never felt exhausted after interacting with you. And maybe you did enjoy the artificial light of Ignihyde to the spring sun above, and maybe you would like being with dreary, nerdy him.

Ortho could see his brother lost in thought, noting that Idia’s heart rate spiked when he mentioned you. “I also overheard them telling Grim about finding a partner,” he said casually, omitting that you’d been wanting a partner in Alchemy, and not necessarily a romantic partner.

That seemed to fire Idia up. Ortho could see the metaphorical cogs in Idia’s brain turning, an entire blueprint of a plan being made in his mind. At last, a wide cunning grin spread on his face, and he opened his arms, “well, who else but a genius could be partners with the MC?” He said arrogantly, “it’s not like just anybody can woo the protagonist!”

Ortho beamed, cheering, “all you need to do now is confess!” Idia immediately began sweating, freezing up. “H-huh?!”

——

You frowned at your textbook, rubbing your temples as you read through the alchemy procedure. Ugh, this couldn’t get any more confusing.

As you turned to begin writing, the door burst open. You flinched and immediately locked eyes with a frazzled Idia. His golden eyes were wide, and he was panting - he even looked sweaty. Somehow his blue fire hair seemed just as frazzled as him, looking pale-blue in shock. Could flames somehow look poofy?

“Prefect!” He squeaked. “Idia?” You questioned, what’s he doing here? It was odd that he’d be out of his room at six in the afternoon, not to mention he looked afraid of you. It wasn’t like you were a stranger, even though as of late, he treated you like one.

He stared at you from the door for an uncomfortable amount of time, then sped-walked to stand in front of you. You looked up at him from your seat, tapping your fingers. You awkwardly asked “do you wanna sit down?” He shook his head quickly, the ends of his hair were turning pink. You frowned, “…dude, are you okay?”

Idia flinched. He pivoted on his heel, “no, no, can’t do it, not today-“ he scuttled out of the room and slammed the door, screeching to himself and pulling his hood over his head. You stared at the door, vaguely hearing Idia freaking out to… was that Ortho? You heard the little robot boy’s voice through the door, probably calming Idia down, along with an odd spraying sound.

It went quiet and you assumed they’d left. Whatever, weirder things have happened at NRC. As you went back to writing, the door slammed open again. You jumped, heart beating wildly. Idia stormed over to you, hair blazing a trail behind him. He slammed his hands down on the desk, and your eyes watered with the scent of overpowering cologne bodyspray.

“Prefect! I need to tell you something!” Idia’s eyes steeled in determination, and he looked you dead in the eye. He was breathing heavily, and his flamed hair blazed and curled more than usual, turning deep pinkish-red near the ends. The last time you saw his hair similar to that, was when he was rage-playing during one of your gaming sessions. How pissed is he? You felt your heart leap into your throat.

“Idia,” you began, freaked out, “I think you should sit down-“ Idia blazed on, “this is honestly a horrible decision for you and definitely for me. I don’t even want to think about what Mother and Father would say, not to mention how this’d affect Styx.” He was tunnel visioning now. “Plus you don’t even have magic and this might not even work out anyway ‘cause I don’t see us working out TBH…” Slowly his hair began fizzling out, voice getting quieter and quieter as he mumbled to himself.

This was a terrible idea, Idia realized. After everything that had happened with Styx, not to mention everything you had to deal with personally, it wouldn’t be good to get involved with him. You could be in danger, especially as a non-magic user. No, it would be selfish of him to ask you to be with him. Why would you, anyway? There were other guys at NRC, not to mention the entire Sage’s Island, who would be a better fit for not. Especially ones who didn’t kidnap your friends and Grim. Especially someone like Idia.

No, he concluded. He shouldn’t have come.

You frowned deeply. “Idia, what…?” Your alchemy work definitely wasn’t done yet and Idia was making zero sense. He sighed, as if tired all of a sudden. “Nope, no… this isn’t going to work.” He stood abruptly and sped-walked out the door, brushing past Ortho. You overheard the boy try to get his brother to come back, but Idia didn’t stop. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. So that’s what this is about? Idia didn’t want to be friends with you anymore? All because you weren’t… what? A tech whiz? Good at gaming? Magical? Your heart dropped. Because you were just too different from him? So you weren’t good enough to be even friends with him?

Your eyes stung at the thought. Fine. If Idia wanted to be that way, then fine. You shoved your books into you bag and headed back to Ramshackle. You doubted you’d be able to focus, anyway.

———

Poor Ortho was confused.

After running simulation after simulation, scouring the Internet for any clues, and piecing together what Idia said after running out of the classroom, he just couldn’t understand what happened. That was a first, considering it was Ortho.

Idia had ran out of the room in a hurry, mumbling incoherently. “Brother! What’s happening?” Ortho flew to him, scanning his vitals. Idia seemed to be ok, but his brother seemed… strangely melancholic. “Ortho, it won’t work out,” he said dejectedly, not wanting to talk about it.

Ortho called after him, trailing behind “What did (name) (last name) say? There was a high probability they’d accept your-” Idia sighed in exasperation, shaking his head. “It won’t work. I should’ve never left the dorm…” As Idia trudged back to Ignihyde, Ortho was left with more questions.

He hovered for a moment, before heading back to the alchemy room for you, only to not find you there. Ortho thought hard, thinking back to what Idia said. ‘It won’t work out,’ was what he said - not a flat-out rejection from you. So that meant…

He began floating back to Ignihyde, determined. I can still save this!

———

You were taking overthinking to a new level.

You bit your lip, staring at the game’s chatbox in front of you. Idia was online, and probably didn’t realize you were too. You leaned against the Heartslabyul common room couch (curse Ramshackle’s lack of internet!), and hit send.

Hey is everything ok??

You watched Idia’s game icon immediately switch to “online less than 1 minute ago,” and groaned.

Cater exited the kitchens, leaning over the couch back. “Hey~ what’s got my fave frosh so worked up?” He chirped, looking at your phone. “Ohh, isn’t that the popular game that’s been trending? Wait, didn’t you say Idia got you into it?” Cater immediately had his phone in hand, “that’s supes adorable, playing with friends is so fun-“

You cut him off, throwing your hands up, “that’s it! Idia just doesn’t want to talk to me! He- he just-!” You grabbed a throw pillow and smashed your face into it, groaning. Cater patted your shoulder sympathetically, “well, we’re playing at another one of Kalim’s parties tonight, you want in?” You sniffed dramatically, thinking. “Well, I guess. Sure, why not?”

Later that evening, you stepped into the Scarabia mirror. You and Cater made your way to the food table. As you both munched on Jamil’s cooking (damn, the guy made a good curry), you watched everyone dancing. “Y’know, it was weird seeing Idia at a party,” you commented, while Cater nodded. “Yeah! We decided to bring him along that day, it was fun seeing him.”

You sighed, “yeah, it was, but… it’s not really often that we can hang out in person. I kinda wanted to dance with him last time, but he sort of… blew me off? I guess maybe it wasn’t the best idea.” You winced, while Cater’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t tell me that. So, he did that and also told you he didn’t want to be friends?” You nodded, frustration flooding back, “Yeah! And I just don’t understand how he can be so conceited about him being so high and smart, and not like me because I don’t-“

“Prefect,” Cater cleared his throat. You looked up mid-rant, meeting Ortho’s eyes, and jumped. He just snuck up on you both like it was nothing. Did he hear you? Hopefully he wouldn’t be mad. In your mind, Idia started it.

“Hello (name) (last name)!” Ortho said pleasantly, so you assumed he hadn’t heard you. Great. “I didn’t know you’d be here! What a coincidence!” That was a lie, Ortho overheard you and Cater talking about the party when you were walking to Scarabia. He absolutely knew. And he dragged Idia here because of it.

“Yep,” you smiled at Ortho, “it’s nice to see you.” Ortho mentally readied himself and remembered every bit of acting advice Vil gave him. “I almost forgot!” His eyes widened, while your eyes narrowed. Ortho was a robot. He didn’t forget shit. “Big brother is here, and he wanted to ask you to dance!” What? Your neck snapped around, looking for Idia’s bright blue hair. Cater elbowed you, bringing you back to reality.

“I-well, I- had not-“ you stammered, fumbling for an excuse. Ortho’s eyes shone at you like puppy eyes, and your anger at Idia cracked. “…yeah, sure,” you watched Ortho rise a bit in the air happily, “Yippee! I’ll go get him!” He zipped off, and you rubbed your temples. Cater twisted a strand of his hair, eyes wide. “Yikes…” “tell me about it,” you groaned.

A few minutes later, you both looked up when Kalim tapped the mic. You didn’t miss Ortho hovering a ways behind Kalim. “Hey everyone! Thanks for coming!” When the cheering died down, Kalim continued, “We’re gonna try something different! Everyone, find a partner and join the dance floor!”

Cater glanced at you, mischievous. “Welp, I can’t leave them hanging~ TTYL, Prefect!” And he left faster than you could say ‘Magicam.’ Sweet.

You hesitantly stepped to the dance floor, half expecting Ortho to float up to you and sheepishly tell you Idia left. Your mind drifted back to that day in the alchemy room. I guess it wouldn’t work, anyway.

To your surprise, a finger tapped your shoulder. You turned, seeing Idia with a with a flushed expression, wearing a casual-but-chic blazer. His hair looked a bit tamer than normal, and cascaded down his back in a low ponytail, bangs flickering over his forehead. Undoubtedly, this was the work of Ortho, who definitely got pointers from Vil.

You both stared at each other, unmoving, until slow music began playing. You averted your eyes. Idia gulped, eyes widening until waving caught his eye. Ortho was flying upwards a little ways away from the slowly-crowding dance floor, gesturing wildly at you. As if that wasn’t enough, he projected words above his head: DANCE WITH THEM!

Idia was lucky that everyone else was more interested in dancing with their partner than Ortho. His eyes snapped back to you, “s-so I guess you wanna-“ he swallowed thickly, eyes shifting to the dance floor. You shrugged, feigning nonchalance and looked ahead. Idia looked back at Ortho, who was pointing wildly at the words. He thought to himself, this is fine. It’s just the mandatory side quest. It’s not fighting the boss. It’s…

It’s charming the love interest. It’s solidifying your route!

Idia steeled himself and forced your hand into his. Your eyes shot to his in surprise, and he walked stiffly to the dance floor. Your hand clasped his, and you both swayed gently to the soft rock from the stage. Your brows furrowed, but Idia locked his gaze onto you, focusing only on you.

Yes, he thought. This is just the player’s pov on the screen, and he was only focusing on the love interest. The other waltzers didn’t exist. The party didn’t exist. It was just you and him.

Meanwhile, you were at a loss for words. While Idia seemed taciturn, you glanced up at the stage. Cater, Kalim, and Lilia were in their own little bubble jamming out, so that wasn’t a lifeline. After a little while of swaying with Idia, you hummed, “I haven’t seen you in a while. Since that day.” Idia’s hands felt clammy, and in the dimmed lights you saw a small pink dusting Idia’s cheeks. You saw him swallow heavily, but he didn’t say a word.

The tension grew between you two, and despite feeling hurt, you felt a little bad. Still, you wanted some answers out of Idia, after the incident in the alchemy room. “Y’know, you never used to be this… odd around me.” Was it the crowd that made him quiet, or… You felt a lump in your throat. Was it you?

Idia’s eyebrows shot up, thinking fast on what to say. Why can't conversations irl have ready-made dialogue?! “I… we c-can talk about wh-whatever you want? I guess?” He tried, kicking himself internally for leaving his tablet with Ortho. You bit the inside of your cheek as you stepped with him, that’ll do for now. “Scarabia parties are a little much, but they’re more pleasant than the Pomefiore mock balls,” you tried “wouldn’t you say?” After an uncomfortable pause, expecting a reply, you mumbled to yourself, “I guess we can stop talking now.”

“...is it like a rule for normies to chat while dancing? Isn’t the act of moving enough?” Idia mumbled in exasperation, hand tightening a little on your own. You bit your lip, your eyes burning. “No, I prefer to not talk to my friends at all and tell them we can’t be friends. It’s so much fun, right?” Idia’s eyes widened, and he scrambled for words, “I- I didn’t mean…” You stopped swaying abruptly, both of your clasped hands in the air. “Why are you here, Idia?”

A chill went through Idia. “T-To be honest, I didn’t even want to come to this stupid IRL dance,” he rushed out, “TBH Ortho had to make me come ‘cause he told me you’d be here-“ “You didn’t want…?” You cut Idia off, heart dropping. The other dancing couples swirled around you, but all the commotion around you felt like nothing more than idle chatter. Hurt flashed in your eyes, and Idia seemed shocked, which made you angry.

“I guess you wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who’s magicless, especially since you have STYX right?”

Idia’s eyes were wider than the Heartslabyul tea saucers. For once, he didn’t have a smart-ass reply. “Um, what? Obvi, I’m kind of stuck with STYX-” You let go of his hand and took a step back, almost bumping into a waltzing couple. “Yeah, wouldn’t want me to mess things up. Make any bad decisions and all that, right?” You felt your eyes water, despite yourself.

Furiously balling a fist and wiping your eyes, “Since you said we wouldnt work out n’stuff.” Idia suddenly remembered everything he’d muttered to himself, from the moment he’d stormed into the room to when he’d left dejectedly. When he’d made his choice and left before you could even get your word in.

Like a coward.

Idia’s heart pounded but shakingly, he reached a hand out to you. “P-prefect, I-I-!” You dodged the crowd, and ran out of Scarabia. You didn’t look back until you crashed through Ramshackle’s door, raced up the stairs, and fell onto your bed, Grim yelping in surprise as you tried your darndest to forget everything that just happened.

Back in Scarabia, Idia somehow stumbled off the dance floor, staggering to a table and breathing heavily. Mentally he replayed everything that just happened. Ortho floated over to him, “Brother? I don’t understand, why would (name) (last name) not accept your feelings?” Ortho went over the footage when he was observing you both dancing, and frowned.

“My senses indicate that based on their body language, they were upset with you. What happened?” Idia swallowed heavily, “I-I said it wouldn’t work out between us c-cuz they don’t have magic,” he stammered, eyes wide, “a-and STYX and-...” Ortho’s eyes widened, then narrowed, “That shouldn’t be a problem! You know that!”

“I meant for them, Ortho.” Idia sighed heavily, sinking into the chair. “I don’t want them to get hurt. Not when…” his mind wandered to Ortho, before NRC. He fell into deep thought. “In the end, I couldn’t even tell them...” He frowned deeply.

Ortho fell quiet, computing. Idia stared at the table, dejected, until Ortho spoke. “You know (Name) (lastname) doesn’t back down easily from a challenge.” That’s true. From playing games with Idia to taking down overblots, you weren’t someone who ran away when it mattered. Maybe that’s why Idia liked you - you were like the protagonists in animes, who found a way to make the world their own.

“You shouldn’t make (name) (last name)’s decision for them.” Idia looked up at his brother. Ortho continued, head angling to the side, Idia shook his head dejectedly, “it won’t work-”

“Your lil’ bro is right, y’know,” Cater walked over, shaking his hair out with his guitar slung over his shoulder. “Sry, I overheard you two,” Cater could piece together what happened. He did see you blow up at Idia (although he couldn’t hear you), and after spamming your phone with no reply after you ran out, now he had an idea of what was going on. “Y’know, if you didn’t tell them how you felt, then how could you know you were making the right choice?”

Idia looked down. Ortho piped up, “Cater Diamond is right.” Idia shut his eyes, then stood up, hands tightening into fists. Cater jumped back as Idia’s hair flared up bright blue, and the Ignihyde housewarden headed straight to the exit. Ortho called out, “thank you, Cater Diamond!” and floated after Idia, “Brother! Wait!”

“Lets go, Ortho,” Idia’s golden eyes steeled in determination, “I can fix this.”

—----

A knock on the door jolted you from your reading of Prejudice and Pride.

It was early morning. Somehow, even though it was the weekend and you’d stayed up all night, you still woke up at an ungodly early hour. After being unable to fall asleep (totally not because of Grim’s snoring and sleep-munching) you decided to go to your living room and read. You were sure that you didn’t have a guest coming, so why would…?

You got up and opened the door, expecting Ace or Deuce or something. The annoyed look on your face turned to shock when you saw Idia standing on your porch. In one hand, he held a bouquet of pomegranate-red roses and some flowers you recognized to be asphodel.

You both stared at each other, unwilling to move. “Idia,” you breathed, “why are you here?” Idia shuffled awkwardly, “I wanted to see you.” You crossed your arms, looking around. “Where’s Ortho?” You were sure the little robot boy made his brother come. Otherwise, why would Idia be here? Idia rubbed the back of his neck, “Ortho isn’t here. I… I wanted to see you,” he repeated.

Wordlessly, he thrust the flowers into your arms, and you wrapped your arm around it instinctively. “I- um,” you looked everywhere but Idia, who was staring at the Ramshackle doorway. “Idia,” you cleared your throat, “about what happened-” “Prefect, I… I wanted to apologize.” Your eyes widened, but Idia continued.

“I… I didn’t mean what I said that day.” Idia looked bashful, face turning pink and the ends of his hair turning a deep blush. He kept talking, rambling on and fighting he urge to grab his tablet and let the device speak for him. “I… really like being friends with you.” The words came out quietly from him, and even though he looked like he wanted to sink into his hoodie, Idia didn’t shirk away.

A lump rose in your throat as you didn’t make eye contact with him, instead playing with the flower bouquet, “I like being friends with you too,” you bit your lip, rubbing an asphodel petal, “I like you, Idia.”

Idia’s eyes widened and went rigid. Both his face and his hair went deep pink. Your own eyes widened at the color, and you felt your face grow hot. So that’s what it meant…? Not anger…?Wordlessly, without thinking, you dropped the bouquet. Your body moved on its own, and you flung yourself at Idia, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut.

Idia staggered back from the momentum with a squeak, but wrapped his arms around your torso with an iron grip. You gripped his hoodie tightly, finally understanding what had gone on for so long. Your cheek was pressed against his, and despite the early morning chill, you both felt warm.

High above, Ortho hovered in the distance over the tree canopies from afar. He zoomed in on you and Idia, and behind his face mask, he beamed. In midair, he did a heart-shaped loop-de-loop in happiness, and hovered back to Ignihyde.

After a few minutes, you leaned back in Idia’s arms, the both of you chuckling in happy disbelief. You looked up and saw a little blue streak leaving a smoke trail of a heart, and laughed to yourself. Idia turned around, seeing his brother above, a soft reminiscent look on his face.

“…guess Ortho was right.”

~END

——-

Fun fact: the beginning is inspired by idia’s school uniform vignette!!!

Me, while writing this: wow Idia and Cater’s dialogue are unique, they’d be hard to write

Also me: *puts both of them in this fic and suffers*

Writing Idia was SO HARD but I hope I managed to get him right-ish. Trying to balance his reactions with the dialogue was hard 😭

anyway thanks for reading~ please leave a comment/reblog!! <3

Taglist: @cerisescherries, @eclecticprincecollector, @ars-tral, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps, @casperandcats, @ttokkisbee, @mitsuriswaifu, @parad-ice-lostandfound, @sad-sie, @moyo5653

(If your user is in bold, I wasn’t able to tag you properly)

[fortunateisle]

is it so hard to find somewhere where i can be l o v e d? 🖤

someone to take my hand and actually mean it when they smile at me. like someone who wouldn’t rather be anywhere else in that moment and something about the way their eyes crease as they smile makes me so sure of that like it’s some kind of truth buried in the dirt stuck in the soles of my converse.

i promise i’ll care about you that same way in return. or i’ll try my best.

maybe what i need is r e b i r t h. maybe i’m not the life destined for a blissful eternity. like maybe if i hadn’t come in here i’d be giving another version of myself a better shot at heaven.

it’s not like i’ve done anything to deserve it HERE. 💒

i guess i just thought with all the bad happening to me something g o o d had to be at the end of the tunnel, you know?

but i don’t think so.

baby birds fall out of their nests and get eaten and run over and stuff all the time. and i don’t think they deserve that, if they’ve only been alive for a few days or something. sometimes the world is just s h i t 💔

or maybe there’s just something about me something wrong like, i’m not stupid. i know i wasn’t, like, popular in school. but it was fine. i wasn’t bullied either. just kinda ignored, i guess.

but i had friends online. even if they were, like, a bit inconsistent. they got tired of me too, after a while. but by the time they did, i would’ve already found the next one.

you don’t really run out of people when you’re online. and you control what they see, from the moment you meet them. 🖤

like i don’t really know what my classmates in real life saw like maybe i had really bad b.o. or never closed my mouth when i chewed or talked way too loud in class or something

but i don’t know. i’ll never know.

i guess i do know i was annoying in other ways to my online friends annoying in ways that were harder to hide like when you fill up something glass with something too hot too fast and it just shatters

but online you can always try to change, right? you can always try to improve yourself for the next person. you can always mold your reality. and if you heard that kind of h e a v e n could be your f o r e v e r, wouldn’t you come in too?

spoilers: it’s not all that. and you can’t change yourself from the trash you are.

l m a o.

sorry.

[snorky]

Hi how are you?

I was hoping you could write something with Vince? Angst and fluffy ending? Please ❤️

Hold Me Close, And Never Let Go

Hey y’all, and hi to the lovely person who requested this Vince Dunn angst and fluff story. I'm doing well, and I hope you all are too. The pronouns for the reader in this story are they/them (so if you want it changed, let me know *directed at the lovely requester*). I’ve been busy recently, and so I apologize for this request coming out a little later than I wanted. I hope you also all enjoy this fic, and take care of yourself!

Pairing: Vince Dunn x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst, Stressed reader

—

—

Heavy storms raged outside their Seattle apartment, the rain pitter-pattering against the windows as they tried to focus on their work. Thunder snapped now and then, and the wind seemed to whistle in the air as a warning.

The paper in front of them was taunting them, a blank page with no answer. All the numbers, letters, formulas, instructions, whatever it was, just didn’t make sense. It was all an incoherent mess to their tired eyes.

Deadlines were chasing them, yelling, screaming at them as if the time ticking down like sand slipping away through their fingers.

The pen in their hands seemed to be ticking them off at every moment. Ink flowed inconsistently, slipping on the paper in the wrong direction, scribbles and scrawls seeming to be the only thing that marked up their page.

A knock came from their door as they were lost in thought. 

“Baby? I miss you.” He called out from behind the door. “Can we cuddle together?”

It had been so long since they heard Vince’s voice, gentle compared to his figure. As badly as they wanted to cuddle with him, they had work to catch up on and do.

They just wished he could hold them, telling them that ‘it’s alright’ and ‘you’re doing lovely,’ to calm the storm of stress in their mind. The storm seemed to mirror the outside weather that was rampant, windy, and rainy.

Instead, they sighed, almost in irritation. “Can’t. I’m working.” Even though they mumbled, their voice still cracked, amplifying their exhaustion.

“Please.” The door creaked open as he came in, his steps careful as he walked towards them. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” he said quietly. “It’s been so long since I’ve even heard your voice.”

The storm continued outside, a flash of lightning followed by thunder disrupting the silence in the room.

Taking a deep breath in, it felt uneven, irritating them further. “Vince, I need to get this done,” they groaned. “Leave me alone for a bit.” Their voice came out much sharper than they had intended, and it was evident when a look of hurt appeared on his face.

He stood there in the middle of the room in silence, looking at them, arms crossed over his chest. They turned their head and looked at him for a brief moment, noticing how sad and disappointed he looked when they said that, and a pang of guilt struck them as they turned back to their work.

“Why.” He sounded hurt, his words came out so emotionally and yet empty and hollow all at once. “Why can’t you just rest with me for a moment?”

They thought about it in silence for a bit. The deadlines seemed so sudden, and the pressure to keep the expectations high was suffocating. Their body felt worn out, tense, and exhausted.

Turning to look at him, tears welled up in their eyes, blurring their vision. “I don’t know,” they croaked. “There’s just so much—”

Vince walked over to them, crouching down to be lower than eye level, and rested his hand on their shoulder. “You need a break.” He pleaded. “Okay?” His voice was always gentle with them, even when they both were upset or hurt. He never spoke louder than he had to, ever.

They finally let out a sob, exhaustion catching up to them, tears streaming down their face as they leaned into his arms. His hands braced them, holding them close as he carefully moved them off of the chair and onto the ground in his lap.

Their breaths were rough and ragged, uneven and unsteady.  “I’m sorry,” they mumbled, sniffling slightly. “I’m sorry for getting upset at you.”

“It’s okay, you’re alright. I know you weren’t feeling the best and that you weren’t in the right state of mind.” His words were genuine, smile sweet as ever.

Vince being this kind to them, even when they were upset, made them cry more at how sweet he was. The tears continued to fall, running down their cheeks, their nose now stuffy and irritated as they cried.

 “Shh, it’s going to be alright,” he soothed. His thumb rubbed small circles into their back, their face hidden in the crook of his neck. “Stay here with me, just for a bit.”

They both remained like this for a while, on the floor together in each other’s embrace, the storm calming down outside to a gentle rainfall. His deep breaths steadied them, a solid rock in the ocean that never seemed to move in the most hectic storms. Despite the tears continuing to run down their face, they remained silent for the most part, taking breaths in every now and then.

He hummed softly into their hair, pulling them closer to his body as he did so. “Let’s move to the bed, alright?” Pressing his lips to their forehead gently, he spoke, “We just need a quick nap, that’s all.”

Tears welling up in their eyes again, the kindness and patience he showed never failed to disappoint them. He never once upset them or made them feel bad about themselves. He was always caring and sweet, he was always perfect in their heart.

“What’s bothering you, sweetheart?” His hand went up to their face, cupping it gently in his palms as his thumb wiped a tear away.

They shook their head, choosing to remain in silence in fear that if they tried to speak, their tears would start to fall again, unending.

“It’s okay, we can always talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he spoke softly.

Keeping his arms wrapped tightly around them, he got up and walked to their shared bed. Setting them down gently on the bed, he then got in bed and lay down beside them. He then pulled the covers over both of them, encasing them in the soft, thick blanket.

“Cozy, baby?”

They nodded in response, scooting closer toward Vince under the blanket. He wrapped his arms around them, holding them warmly as one of his hands held the back of their head as they rested it on his chest, the stress slowly crumbling away.

It was just the both of them, just him in their world at the moment. The deadlines faltering away somewhere else, the stress melting away as he held them close.

“I love you,” they mumbled quietly.

He gave them a gentle peck on the top of their head and smiled sweetly at them. “I love you too,” he said. “And I’ll never stop loving you, baby.”

They smiled at his words, and before they could start tearing up again, he peppered soft kisses all over their face, making them let out a small laugh. “That’s what I like to hear,” he hummed.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for disrupting a teacher's religion lesson?

I (currently a senior) have been made to go to a before school church class every morning (6am-6:50am) from freshman year to senior year of high school. (my family is Mormon if that matters) I have really bad insomnia and have been struggling in school a lot from lack of sleep. Granted, I'm still a A and B student so it is not seen as struggling.

I am not religious at all and am really uncomfortable with being made to go as this class features a lot of required sharing of your opinions on the doctrine. I have talked to both parents (divorced my entire life) and my dad agreed that I could do online along with my mom (primary placement) in the past, around the start of my junior year. However, when the class started back up for the school year, I was still made to go. Both of my parents know I am not religious, but they do not care. (my mom scolds me for "attacking" her religion if I point out the inconsistencies in what is being taught, then says I need to respect it, but when I ask her to respect my beliefs by not making me go, she ignores me)

This year, the teacher for the class switched. As mentioned before, I am not comfortable in this class as a lot of the doctrine taught sounds very much like it is indoctrination to me. The first 3 years I was in the class, I would parrot the answers they wanted, with only the occasional mention of a contradiction (especially with the church's history with polygamy and pedophilia) but this year I have been too fed up with being made to go to this class so I have been a bit more sassy in my responses, sometimes saying things like "I can't answer this because I don't believe it"

The specific instance in which I may be TA happened a few days ago. I was more tired than usual that day, my mom and I had had a particularity bad fight as I was leaving the house, so when the teacher asked me to analyze a scripture and say what I found meaningful about it, I told her in front of the class that I did not find anything about the religion meaningful, which I realized may have been a little harsh

Extra info:

the teacher's response was to tell me to "fake it till you make it" and continue making me do it

she called on me after this and asked me what I found meaningful to which I said I simply had nothing to add

This teacher often talks about her life specially the 1 1/2 years she spent teaching about this as a 19 year old in another country and especially talks about how her mistreatment made her really love the church which makes me very uncomfortable as my sister was the same way before leaving this church so I am definitely biased against her

I tend to spend a lot of the lessons in this class on my phone, obviously ignoring the lessons, which is definitely rude, but I feel I'm justified in not wanting to pay attention

What are these acronyms?

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Accent

Jaskier has a Northern accent that he works really hard to hide. He learned early on that most people, especially among the nobility, considered Northerners to be lower than peasants. A Northern accent was a black mark on the person, labeling them as bumpkins or hill folk.

Jaskier saw how anyone with an accent even remotely close to Northern was ridiculed and bullied both inside and outside of Court. So he spent a lot of time practicing speaking in a Court accent until he perfected it.

By the time he went off to study in Oxenfurt, he had become comfortable with the new accent, and it sounded completely natural. He didn't have to worry about being looked down on, or ridiculed, and he discovered that a lot of people found a Court accent attractive.

But there was always that fear that he was going to slip and some one would find out about his Northern accent. He was terrifed when he started following Geralt, and when he met Yennefer.

Geralt never said anything, but he could hear that Jaskier's accent wasn't natural. There were slight differences in inflection, and pronunciation, and tiny inconsistencies that normal humans would never notice but a Witcher's sensitive ears easily picked up on. Whatever the reason was for the affectation was none of Geralt's business.

The more time Geralt spent with Jaskier, the more he noticed the little slips in this Court accent. He figured out the reason for the fake accent when he started hearing his real accent come through.

Geralt remembered the first time Jaskier's accent had slipped out.

The had made camp after a long day of entertaining at the town festival. Jaskier had been very tired, and he was upset about a few things Valdo Marx had said to him. He'd laughed it off, turning the insults and insinuations into an improv song that had the crowd laughing and cheering him boistrously before sweeping him away to the closest inn for a round of drinks while Valdo stood fuming impotently.

But now that they were alone, he'd allowed himself to feel the hurt, and his accent had taken on a sing-songy quality, and he'd gone hard on his T's for a second when he referred to Valdo Marx as "that b**tart!"

Oh, f**k!

Jaskier internally panicked the second he realized he'd dropped his affected accent. Ok, calm down! Maybe he didn't hear. You know he tunes you out most of the time. Act natural, pretend like everything is normal!

Jaskier continued rummaging through his pack, sneaking a quick glance at Geralt while continuing to insult Valdo as he shook out his bedroll, flapping the blanket aggresssively before laying it out. Geralt seemed oblivious, his attention on gathering deadfall for the fire and digging out the fire pit.

Jaskier allowed himself to breathe a silent sigh of relief. The Witcher hadn't noticed. Thank all the gods!

Geralt was scraping out a little pit for the fire when he heard Jaskier drop his accent for just a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bard freeze for a split second, and Geralt calmly continued with his task as if he hadn't noticed. All the while he was thinking "He has a Northern accent! No wonder he sounds off sometimes!"

From then on, Geralt started really listening, intrigued and wanting to hear more of his real voice. He caught little snatches of it here and there, mostly when Jaskier was drunk, tired, upset, or excited. Or when he thought he was alone, and was composing a song or poem.

Geralt was always careful to never let on that he noticed when that lovely, sing-songy accent slipped out. It was hard, forcing himself to keep that big stupid smile off his face that threatened to come out whenever he heard Jaskier 'go Northern'.

When Yennefer came into the picture, Jaskier was on edge, constantly on guard to keep his Northern accent hidden. She was the last person he wanted to find out about it.

She already hates me. No reason to make her think I'm stupid, too!

He did an excellent job of hiding it, not wanting to give the witch any ammunition in their perpetual war of words. He finally bonded with her, saw her as family like he did Geralt, and he doubled down on keeping his accent a secret.

He could talk to her about anything, show her every side of him, like he could with Geralt, but the accent was one thing he did not want to share. He was terrified that she would look at him differently. That both of them would. He didn't think his heart would survive that.

Yennefer had been fighting for her life the first time she heard Jaskier's Northern accent come out.

Jaskier had caught a fever while performing in one of the towns. He was delirious, and Yennefer had been getting him to drink a potion and he'd just completely dropped his affected accent as he started talking random nonsense to her.

She had paused as she was tucking him back in, staring at him in disbelief as he chattered on.

Yennefer had squealed in lowercase.

"Oh! My! Gods! He's, he's got a-!"

"Northern accent. I know. He's been faking a Court accent-!"

"I know what it is, and it's f***ing cute!"

"Gods you sound like a giddy little maid!"

"Like you can say anything, Geralt, when you're standing there grinning like a boy who's just gotten his first peek at a pair of tits!"

Yennefer and Geralt never let on that they knew, and it bothered them that Jaskier didn't seem to feel like he could trust them. They understood why he was hiding it, though, so they satisfied themselves with enjoying the rare times when it slipped out.

It was not heavy, like many Northerners' accents were. Jaskier's accent was lighter, more delicate, but it did tend to get heavier when he was in an emotional state.

They did their best to pretend they didn't notice the little lapses, but they couldn't help but smile when it happened. And Jaskier eventually figured out that they both knew--had known for a while.

Yennefer had run into them in town, and they were having dinner in their room at the inn. Jaskier had been chattering on about how one of his sets had gone, and he'd gotten a little too excited. Yennefer's eyes had gone soft and...and sparkly, and she'd glanced at Geralt, whose face was lit up with the sunniest smile which he was desperately trying to hide behind his tankard of ale.

OhHhH f**K, tHeY'd hEaRd iT!!!! He froze, going stock still. Any minute now, they were going to start lauging at him.

Geralt just smiled and took another drink while Yennefer just kept looking at him with that, that adoring look. That was when he knew.

"When?" Jaskier had asked, mortified after he realized.

Geralt had swallowed his ale with a thoughtful 'Hm' and replied. "A few days after you started following me around. Your accent sounded off, but I wasn't sure why. Figured it out after you started b*tching about Valdo Marx one night."

Jaskier mentally kicked himself. Of course a Witcher would have been able to tell!

"And you?", he asked Yennefer

"That time you had that bad fever. You babbled on in the most intriguing accent about everything under the heavens. We got to listen to it for two whole days!"

Jaskier hid his face in his hands, dinner forgotten as he slid down in his chair with an embarrassed groan.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because we knew why you were hiding it, Lark", Yennefer said, "I've been in Court. I know how the nobility are."

"You don't have to hide it anymore. Not around us," Geralt said.

"You...you don't think I sound...stupid?"

Yennefer tapped him on the head with her empty plate as she walked by, "No, you little b*llend! It's sing-songy and cute, and you sound adorable!"

It took him some time, but he was finally able to let himself relax and stop using the adopted accent with Yennefer and Geralt.

He would forget sometimes, because he was a performer, and an act could be hard to put aside. Especially if it had helped you survive for so many years.

It would sometimes take an hour or two after a long day of performing for the public for Geralt and Yennefer's 'Sing-Songy Twit' to relax enought to drop the Court accent and be himself. And when he did, one of them would always say warmly "There you are, Jaskier!"

[hanzidanzi]

Draw whoever you think fits perfectly in the rolls!!!!

(If you want. No pressure!)

Hello Val, hope you’re doing good💕 I’m assuming you mean to the boys!

These are my placements!^^ (click for better quality)

Just the placements I thought worked best considering the boys and their s/o, I go into detail below:

1. Red and Dust;

Red being the flirtatious jackass he is, flirts with everyone and is known to do so... Sooo! When he finally gets a crush, the person he flirts with finds it difficult to take him serious. You might find he has changed his flirting slightly however, making less "dirty" jokes towards you and he might try more romantic advances...

Dust is so far removed from anything and everything, being caught in a circle of kill or be killed has really fucked with him sadly. It's been such a long time since someone flirted with him too... He definitely wouldn't take the hint if you did.

2. Blue and Classic;

Blue is such a sweetheart! He is definitely your biggest fan if you let him, if not he'll be your biggest fan in secret... He'll support whatever you like, whatever sort of hobby you have... and generally he'll be your number one cheerleader whenever he can!

Classic is a huge nerd, which is really no secret! He can ramble on on about anything in particular, can you blame him? He doesn't feel comfortable with just anyone, so when he meets someone like you?? He just can't help himself from gushing with all the exciting new information he just learnt.

3. Black and Edge;

Black loves a challenge!! Please, please challenge him! He won't admit how much he likes that you are better than him in certain areas, but he sure will admire you from afar. And the way you snap at him when he's being a jackass towards you? It lights something in him, what can I say!

Edge is a tsundere! Really he is! He takes some time to warm up to/takes a while for him to warm up to you. But he admires your passion and spirit! The way you don't take shit, the way you talk back. In his world it means you can survive without him being too worried about you, and that is a HUGE pluss for him! This man seriously worries 24/7.

4. Buns and Cream;

Buns my baby!!!;; On a serious note, don't mess with him. He is baby, but he'll fuck you up if he has to! Sadly your little Bun has been through hell and back and knows how to protect you if he has to. But please, he is so so tired of all the violence and inconsistencies! All he wants is a calm and safe life with you, where he doesn't have to worry about food and enemies.

Cream is tough! Like tough tough. Sure he hasn't been through hell necessarily, but he has been through tons of hard training to become a royal guard! Don't think Undyne goes easy on him, only because she has a soft spot for him. He also has such positive energy, whatever you go through he'll have your back! And he'll make sure you get through it unscratched!

5. Mutt and Stretch

Mutt is chaotic... but like in a chill way? He'll bring you along on the stranges of adventures: bring you with him to his shop, to the lab, to the store and so on. And pretty much each and every time you come out of it with the strangest of stories? Like you were going to the store and now you're in a completely different AU saving the world? He can't help it either, like these huge changes happens to his plans and he just goes with it?

Stretch is such a meme, man doesn't take anything seriously. He had to be a grown up from a really young age, so he could properly take care of Blue. Honestly, he's just so tired and he want to makeup for all the time he lost. It has taken a toll on him, so he's basically making it his life mission to just mess around with everything and everyone! Beware you'll be his number one target you know...

6. Dust!Paps and Axe;

Dust!Paps is really just a little coward, now it is a little difficult to place him! Since he is basically made up by Dusts imagination and insane guilt for killing his brother. But if we were to say he was his own body and soul for a second, this man is spiteful af. Tired of being killed because of Dusts complete obsession to kill the human and gain LOVE. So he is spiteful, but still the sweet and kind Papyrus deep inside. Something you will get to see if you're patient enough with him.

Axe is a dom daddy for sure... He probably wouldn't say it like that, but this man has literally no shame. And I'm not just talking with sexual encounters, but in general! He is the boss and he will let you know. Taking care of you the way you should, making sure you've eaten, gotten enough water, gotten enough sleep. Did I mention he is basically just pure instinct? Like sure, he is just a funny more morbid version of Classic. But at the end of the day, this man is also the most animalistic out of the bunch.

Now I'm so so late answering this!! I've been busy with college and barely gotten to draw for several months, but thats life. I'm happy I've gotten to this one at last💕

[a-bit-too-silly]

Would you maybe do a drabble about regressed Logan being fussy about having to take a bath, maybe with CG Wade?

of course! I decided to have a bit of an inconsistent narrator cus Wade talks right to the reader sometimes. Hope this is alright! :]

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

If there's one thing Logan *isn't* known for, it's his cleanliness. He takes care of himself most of the time. He's half good at that don't get this twisted, dear reader. But.. well, he's not particularly neat. We'll put it that way.

When he's big he's always getting covered in sweat, grime, blood, ash, he's really the type to roll around in mud like a dog if he thinks it'll make him feel better. 'Feral' is a good word to describe him, even when he's not gone into one of his berserker rages. But when he's little, it's.. yeah, it's the same story. Maybe a bit less blood and no ash since I wouldn't- ehh... *nobody* would let that little guy smoke anything. Not even his beloved cigars. Thankfully he's found some other ways to satiate that oral fixation of his, even if it does mean the occasional bite on the arm every now and then.

Regardless of what he decides to sink those little chompers into, he still manages to get himself coated in just about everything he comes across.

Mud? Oh-ho, definitely. No use in putting him in his raincoat and boots since he'd prefer to stomp around in every puddle barefoot anyway.

Food? You know it. You could be feeding him as neatly as possible only to turn your back for a moment and find some mashed avocado in his eyebrow.

Dust from the floor? Yep. Paint? Sure. Crayons? Somehow, yeah. Blue fur from Kurt? Mhm. Don't get me started on the jam incident. That sweet honey badger found his way into the cabinets.. the evidence of that massacre still stains those poor porous countertops.

I'll hand it to him, he's talented.

Unfortunately... bath time is his worst enemy. Maybe it has something to do with the experimentation, that'd make the most sense. Maybe it's his tendency to sink. Maybe he just prefers to be a stinky little gremlin. It's not exactly my place to ask. He's often too little or too tired to stay standing long enough for a shower, and sponge baths aren't really an option.

With background info out of the way, let's get back to the problem at hand.

-

"Cmon peanut, I made sure to put in the bubbles you like! They're yellow!" Wade says with a small gesture towards the tub. "Al! Tell him they're yellow!"

"You really think I'd be more convincing than you?" She calls from the other room almost incredulously. - oh, right. *Blind* Al.. yeah.. maybe not the best at identifying colors. - Wade looks out the door of the bathroom in the general direction of where Al is seated, minding her business.

"See? Al likes how yellow they are." He says in spite of everything, "Do you want to get in the tub now, munchkin?"

"no. No bat-time." Logan, as little as he is right now, scowls. It doesn't have the intended effect, but Wade lets out a dramatic groan anyway. Toddlers.. can't be reasoned with.

"Unfortunately not how this works, kiddo." Wade says, crouching down next to the tub where Logan has firmly planted himself against the tile. He's no longer wearing his top, seeing as it was an unfortunate bystander to some sticky pancakes and cubed meats. All chopped up nice and small so Logan wouldn't choke but big enough that he could chew on em a decent bit.

"Don' need ta." The adamantium boned toddler huffs in response, "'m not dirty."

"no, but you are sticky, kiddo. And you were playing outside with Storm earlier so I bet you got a bit icky there too." This only makes Logan's scowl firmer. The once little pout growing in such a way that makes Wade's heart ache. If it weren't for the fact that Al would definitely nag him about Logan's sticky fingers, face, chest, shoulders... Logan's general *stickiness*, he doubts he'd ever manage to get the rascal to ever bathe.

"Papa get in first." He said firmly, pointing to the tub like he's the one calling the shots. Which he is. Wade is a weak weak man for his grumpy little guy. "'n no dunking."

'Dunking' in this case stands for dipping the little guy's head under water. Wade would never, but it gets mentioned at least once per bath time. Upon hearing the statement, Wade throws up his hand in a solemn oath.

"Scouts honor." Now, Wade has never been a boy scout, but he's also never been one for hurting kids so the promise still stands. With that, he slips out of his slippers and rolls his sweatpants up to his knees so he hopefully won't get too soaked, and he sits down on the edge of the tub. The water in the tub isn't too deep, only reaching up to around the middle of Wade's calf, with another few inches on top of thick yellowy foam from the bath bomb Logan relished in watching dissolve.

Still reluctant, Logan watches as Wade sits on the edge of the tub for a while. And Wade lets him. It's a slow process, always is, but after a few minutes of pouty glaring Logan tugs off the last of his clothes then clambers up into the tub with a bit of help from Wade. Just to ensure he doesn't slip. The water is still nicely warm despite the slow process, maintained by frequent touchups of hot water and lifting up the plug to let out the cold.

"Good job, peanut." Wade says softly as he grabs an old cup, bright red in color and decorated with a variety of stickers, and starts to ladle water over Logan's shoulders. He's learned the hard way that Logan has the 'if my head gets wet in a dry room I will shake until it's dry' reflex, so hair washing stays until the end.

Logan is quiet and stiff, letting out the occasional whine despite himself. Seems he's on the silent treatment side of the spectrum rather than the 'giving a cat a bath' side. It's almost worse, but Wade knows he'll perk back up once things are done.

So he starts to gently scrub the sticky syrup and dirt from Logan's hands, meeting his eye as best he can. His little one is sulking, lip still pouted out, eyes downcast and sad.

"Bath time is no fun, I know, my sour faced friend." Wade sighs, "anything that could make it better, bubbie?"

Logan stays quiet for a while, only moving when Wade needs to reach somewhere to clean. "No."

"mmm." Wade mumbles, taking the removable showerhead off of its holder so he can quickly rinse off Logan, getting his hair and rinsing off the soap. "Just a moment.."

"done?"

"Yep. All done, honeybun." He says as he stands up to grab a towel from the shelf, that earns him some grabby hands and a desperate search for 'uppies'. Which he gladly satisfies after bundling him up in a towel. Yeah, I can pick him up. Adamantium skeletoned 300+ pound toddler? No biggie. "Let's get you in some jammies and maybe you can convince Nana Al to let you put on a movie. That sound good, bubsicle?"

Logan nestles his head into the crook of Wade's neck and nods a little, his limbs clinging to Wade like a koala clings to a tree. He's really not used to being picked up, regardless of how much he asks for it.

"And then Papa pool is gonna make some chicken nuggets and fries and we're gonna forget all about that icky horrible bath." Wade continues as he carries Logan to the bedroom, patting his back occasionally.

"Dino shapes?" Logan asks quietly.

"Oh, definitely. That makes em more nutritious." Wade scoffs, pulling out a pair of comfortable flannel pants and a T-shirt that still manages to be baggy even on Logan's broad frame. The faded pattern still clearly reads 'Bambi' with the titular character looking up at a butterfly while sitting in a bed of flowers. It's a favorite of his, and maybe Wade has been messing with continuity to make sure it never wears out. Maybe. Come on, every one needs their recognizable outfits!

Logan dresses himself with only a touch of help with the socks. Then he does that silly toddler walk, the one where its more stomps than normal footfalls, off towards Al with Wade following close behind.

[imthepunchlord]

Honestly? At this point Miraculous seems like a pick and choose kind of fandom??? Like when the storyline and author of something become too much of a mess for the fans to care much for canon anymore so they just choose what the want to write fanfics about. It happens in stuff like DC where they can't have all the different characterizations of the characters together without contradiction. Death of the author situation I think???

It was already happening with fan artists so very intrigued by the PV. And then as new characters and powers were introduced people started omitting some characters n episodes.

Now, with the absolute nothing having done for the character arcs for most of the characters (Adrian, Chole, even Alya) people are just tired.

Understandably so. We have almost a decade of bad writing, inconsistency on characters, clashing set up and characters, upsetting/huge choices that don't have any real consequences to them or not the right response, and honestly at the core, nothing changing all that much. S6 is going to have LB and Chat still not know each other's identities, and are still going to face a villainous Butterfly user.

Only difference is that there's now a total of 17 heroes in Paris, but given that LB and Chat are the center piece, I don't know how much we'll really see them. Oh, and Adrien and Marinette are dating, though I wouldn't be surprised if s6 just had them broken up or immediately broke them up. They did it before. And this pair is supposed to chase each other eternally... maybe they'll stay dating s6 and onwards but idk, it seems like no one likes writing couples together, which is a shame as that can be a whole other can of worms and not always happy, as you're taking that partnership further, you're going to learn more of who your SO is, and there's going to be fights, there's going to be learning communication, there's going to be learning compromise. There's a lot to explore with couples together that's not always sunshine and rainbows, and hardly any show wants to really explore it. Maybe they will s6 but I'm not really anticipating the possibility.

Either way, yeah, ML is that medium where, because of the inconsistency, you can pick and choose what you think fits the character. Given the lack of consistency, it can be up for debate of what's even in character for this character.

Like, I remember when Collector first came out, and Chloe is sobbing about Adrien being pulled from school and I was so surprised by the choice. The Chloe that was presented in s1 would not be sobbing. She was be mad. She would go demand and threaten Gabriel to give Adrien back. Probably one of the few people she genuinely cared for, and this is a girl who knows that she has a lot of political power and can get her way easily. She would not be crying over this, she'd be marching her way to the Agreste manor, ready to give Gabriel a bad day for the audacity of pulling her friend out of school when she waited so long for him to join her in school.

And that's just one of many moments where something can feel out of character, at least for me. Depending on how you view Chloe, that could very much be in character. And that's the nice and frustrating thing with Miraculous, no consistency, anything is up for your interpretation.

Even more so when you have characters that have a clear route of progress to follow.

Like, take Felix, who got cut because he didn't work with what Astruc wanted to do, which yeah, he doesn't. Which he wanted to do a status quo story, which means little to no progressing forward, no major changes to that initial set up. Felix though is a character that needs progress. He starts out selfish, not wanting to be a hero, and his set up arc is learning to care. Learning to truly become a hero, learning to make friends and working with others, coming to genuinely fall for his partner and being genuine with her.

Felix would've been fine with a story progressing forward.

He had a clear path to take.

Chloe, given all the build up to be Queen Bee, had two clear paths to take, be it redemption and rising to becoming a hero, or embracing a role of full villainy.

Alya had a clear path to take, with her eagerness to expose the heroes publicly, she needs to learn the value and security of secrecy, and the reality that her trying to expose them put them at risk; that she needs to reevaluate her priorities and how she should go about things.

There's also the issue of lore, which ML has really bad lore. Which can leave us to be more creative with it, make changes so it makes sense. And this can extend to powers too, as I don't think a majority genuinely like all powers presented, I don't know anyone who really likes time traveling Rabbit or really knows how Rooster works. So it is really nice that people are pretty open to seeing Miraculous power changed or expanded upon.

And of course, there's the lack of consistency in what they set up.

Ladybug and Cat are supposed to be THE most powerful, the big two! But they don't feel like. Butterfly feels like the most OP given it can give any power and can make superior versions of preexisting Miraculous. Peafowl can do the same, and make actual life apparently, that you can fully control and terminate whenever you want. Rabbit can freaking time travel. Rooster it seems can give you any power you want, I know they tried to explain that Rooster can't do what other Miraculous do, but that's a clashing statement as Ladybug and Goat both generate items, and the Paris Special reveals that a Ladybug CAN control what items they gets, and you got Butterfly and Peafowl able to function the same, and in the Paris Special, Butterfly can make a champion that can go to different realities, and Rooster can give the ability to go to different realities, so I guess we'll just go with Rooster can give you any power you want?

Yeah, Miraculous over all is a huge frustrating mess. Even more so that it's still going on despite how sloppy it is.

And for me at least, I create content for it as I can SEE the potential it has for the concept. It's such a brilliant idea for a superhero/magical girl show.

Doing animal themed heroes, with their powers working off the animal symbolism, themes, folklore, and mythology? Yeah, that is great. That can give you SO MUCH to work with and do. Even more so, most animals have the same themes across different cultures, like everyone agrees that foxes are tricky, horses are about heroism and traversal, bees are the peak example of community, ect..

And then there's these little beings that are based on those animals, that have lived through a long history alongside humanity? Easily could've been the most fascinating part of the show, especially if they work off animal archetypes. That gives you a preset personality to build upon, and can shape each kwami's view, moral, and guidance.

Like Pollen as a Bee should have values of having a role to play in the great hive of the world, you might need help finding your purpose, and to believe that humans should communicate, work with others, work hard, be kind but take no bull. Live a life of integrity and responsibility.

Trixx as a Fox though should be a trickster. One that's ultimately for the greater good, but she's going to be chaotic about it. Maybe a little selfish, maybe a little mischievous, and maybe a little risky. She's going to urge a value of cleverness and perception in her humans, but she's also going to let them act for themselves as she wants to see how things play out for curiosity and fun. And in the grand scheme of things, everything will work out as Trixx intends, with her having various predictions on how things will probably go, but my goodness, anyone caught up in her gambling game is going to be in for a wild ride.

And with these two very drastic animal archetypes, it sets up Pollen and Trixx to clash on how they handle things, expanding upon kwamis having unique dynamics, some as friendships while others are rivalries.

Then of course, there's the intrigue of what humans they could get paired with, especially if you go a route of foils that could open the way for growth.

Like Bee was set up as Chloe's ultimate foil, being the opposite of who she was: being mean and petty, lashing out, being lazy, egotistical, selfish, doesn't work with others unless she values them. All of that is the opposite of what bees represent. And all of that is what Chloe needed to grow and improve, but no, we can't make progress, she has to stay who she is, so the Bee is catered to her lashing out.

So yeah, it's a big shame as I freaking love this concept, especially as I like animals, I like reading up on their mythology and symbolism and such. But it's so horrendously done. And that's the biggest shame as I think it could've been one of the great cartoons to recommend. But not how it is now.

[somberjoon]

SYZYGY [1]

✩ pairing: alpha namjoon x chubby fem!omega reader

✩ genre: wonderous , soulmates , strangers to "friends" to lovers , fluff , romance🔞 , life lessons , slice-of-life , brief angsty situations , happy ending

✩ word count: 6.4k

✩ chapter warnings: cussing , cover art does not depict fmc features, drinking / mention of bar hopping , Namjoon is drunk upon meeting FMC but there is nothing that happens! , lots of inside feelies and thought processes

✩ summary: Namjoon would say that he truly lives the normal life. As an alpha, he works the job he wants, he goes out when he has time, and he has never received a single late-fee on payments. He's living the mundane life- until an unknown omega literally drops into his life. Where did she come from? Why him?

✩ cover: me

ch.1 , ch.2 ...

“It is your time, precious one.” 

“What if- what if I’m scared?” 

“You have no reason to be fearful.” 

“I was born to do this- he is just a man, an alpha that I know nothing of- what if we are not compatible like you say we will be?” 

“Do you find me inconsistent in the success of my pairings, precious one?”

“No, I am just afraid I will not live up to your expectations now that I am to be on my own.” 

“Oh, my dear, that is the reason you were matched.” 

“What?”

“Please, trust me once more and trust yourself always from now on.”

“Of course.”

“It is she that loves all thy flaws.”

“It is she that loves all thy flaws.”

Namjoon

It’s another small bar that plays shitty remixes. The only good things about these places are the owners with their intimate service and the perfectly made drinks. 

“What song is this?” Namjoon just about screams into Jimin’s ear. Another remix plays, probably by a newer pop star that he has yet to familiarize himself with. 

“I don’t know or care! It’s your turn!” Jimin points at the messy stack of cards in the middle of the small table. Namjoon gives a lazy eye roll and intently looks at the cards in his hands once again. 

“Do you have a five?” He turns to Seokjin to scream into his ear. 

“Hah! Go fish, bitch.” Namjoon begrudgingly pulled another card from the only neat stack on the table. 

“Can we pick something else?” Namjoon yells between the two, hoping to God that they heard him and will take pity on him. 

This is the one night in a whole month that he has had time to go out and forget about his job. The first shitty bar was just what he needed. Drinks were made with alcohol that was poured with a heavy hand and the music was chosen perfectly. You always have to start with the loud, dance club settings when you bar hop. Then, by the end of the night, you’re sitting at a chill bar that provides board games for its patrons and puts the correct amount of alcohol into drinks. Plus, if you have the right vibes, you can score some free samples. By now, the owners have given them a few too many and all three of them should definitely leave soon. 

“I have a better idea!” Jimin yells. Instead of the others responding, they just wait for Jimin to say what’s next on the agenda. He’s basically been running the whole night, deciding where they go next and what the feel is after each one. He’s the pro. 

“Let’s go home.” 

“Thank god.” Namjoon mumbles to himself. Immediately starting to put their cards away in a mess of backwards and upside down stacks. It was Seokjin’s turn to pay for the tab, so he’s up and heading for the main bartender in a hurry. Apparently they’ve all had enough for the night. By now it’s not just fun noiseless thinking and laughing about ‘the good old days’, it’s tired mumbling and sighing at the hit of cool air that greets them outside of the bar. 

“Ugh, Joon, you should just let us crash at your place. I really can’t imagine the price of a cab right now.” 

“I don’t care, I just wan' be horizontal as soon as possible.” Namjoon mumbles at them, already leading the way to his studio apartment. 

"You're such a fuckin' nerd." Seokjin giggles to himself, making Jimin join in."

"Because I use 'horizontal'? Ya'll can fight over the fuckin' couch cuz' you're not sleepin' withme in my big, sof' bed." 

That just eggs them on more, leaving Namjoon to lead the way as they stumble along behind him.

-

“Uh…Namjoon?”

Seokjin’s unsure voice asks behind Namjoon as he clicks his apartment door’s locks into place. His limbs seem to lag as he tries to peel his shoes and jacket off. 

“What?”

“I thought you said you didn’t go out last night.”

“Bro, I didn’t.” Namjoon adds a whiny ending in his answer. Both Seokjin and Jimin have been asking if he went out without them- the whole night he’s had to convince them he stayed in on a Friday night to work.

“Then, why is there an omega in your living room?”

“There’s not an ‘mega in my liv-” Namjoon finally pries his shoes off and turns to find a female standing just next to his couch. Her scent hits him like a bag of bricks- it’s fucking everywhere, like she scented ever piece of fabric in the house and pushed out some more just for extra measure. 

“Alpha!” Her bright eyes land on his still adjusting eyes. He’s trying his best to piece together why the fuck this is happening. He must be really fucking drunk. They must all be. There wouldn’t be a random omega in his home. He hasn’t touched another person in months thanks to the workload he has. 

“Namjoon? She’s talking to you.” Jimin pipes up, trying to cover his nose with his jacket sleeve. He can’t think the smell is bad can he? Namjoon thinks her scent is nice, really good, perfect even- but as his eyes turn to Jimin and Seokjin he can see their discomfort. 

“You’re talking to me?” Namjoon asks stupidly. He can’t, for the life of him, get ahold of a single thought. There’s no reason for her to be here talking to him. 

“Yes. I’ve been waiting for you.” She says surely. “She sent me to you.” She ends with a giddy smile. 

“Namjoon if you’ve got some weird roleplay going on please let us leave.” Seokjin says finally, pushing Namjoon into his apartment more to dispel the situation and- apparently- leave the stunned, drunk alpha alone with this unknown omega. 

“Who are you?” He asks, studying her to try and figure out if this was an omega he forgot he had a thing with before. Namjoon can’t imagine her as anyone he’s been with before- he’d surely remember a face like her’s, a scent so perfect. 

“Y/N. I’m your gift!” She says with certainty, never letting her smile leave as she waits for him to react to her. Instead, he just feels extremely light headed. With a few slowed-blinks, Namjoon collapses to the ground with a few thuds. 

-

"Please don't die. Please, please don't have drunk too much and die before I could do anything."

Namjoon wakes to a pounding in his head that seems to be speaking to him as well. A foreign voice worries around him. It isn't until a touch to his forehead that has him bolting up from a lying position to come face to face with a woman that he definitely thought he dreamt up.

"Oh, thank The Goddess! I thought you drank too much." Namjoon tries to push himself away from the woman, going as far back to his headboard as he can get. 

"I definitely drank too much, 'cuz who the fuck are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you'd remember." He watches confused as she seems to straighten the hoodie she has on- a hoodie he realizes is definitely his- and prepares herself for an introduction. 

"I'm Y/N, your personal omega match." She gives him a grinning greeting that shows her confidence and content in a situation he sure as hell isn't familiar with.

"What- what does that mean?" Namjoon tries to rub the hangover from his eyes, an ache being soothed only when a constant pressure is held to his temples. He listens to her as he continues his ministrations.

"The Goddess raises us, teaches us how to be perfect for our matches. No matter the combination, no matter the gender identity- there's always a match for someone. But, the chosen match only goes through if the one we are matched to deserves it. Our safety is her number one priority."

He takes in this headache of an explanation, trying his best to piece together why the hell he was chosen. He's trying to figure out if this is really happening to him- if this is real, despite him knowing of those that had been 'gifted' an alpha, beta, or omega. 

"I can help you with the pain, I was taught how to alleviate hangover symptoms."

"No, no it's fine, don't touch me." Her face falls at what he says upon opening his eyes. The look of devastation on her face worries him, itching to figure out why what he said had made her so unsettled.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Why?"

"I have been touching you. I brought you to the bed and made sure you didn't sleep with your jeans on. And I've been switching out the cool rags all night to check if you were still sweating. I definitely should have asked."

The scent he was so used to he forgot about it, is now mixed with a burnt equivalent. 

“It’s alright. I was- yeah I don’t remember much. So, thank you for helping me.” 

“Of course! I love helping, I could make you soup if you’d like. I- I don’t know what you like yet but if you let me know what you need right now I can figure it out.” 

Namjoon gives pause at the sheer want that’s on her face, the softness in her scent now. He’s never had another person in his home making him things and wanting to take care of him besides Seokjin and Jimin. Those two will try to help him out whenever he even voices a discomfort, but this stranger is sat kneeling on his bed, tending to him as if he means something to her. He doesn’t know how this works exactly, where she comes from and why she’s so comfortable with him without knowing anything about him. He can’t just take advantage of her either. He’ll learn. 

-

Even as Namjoon prepares a soup he would most definitely not have put the effort into making any other time he was drunk, Y/N is looking over his shoulder and watching what he does every step of the way. Just as his dog at his parents house used to do, she’s right on his heels, trying to memorize the steps. Even worse, her scent is giddy-ingly releasing as if she’s not in control of it. Luckily, he finishes it without spilling or burning himself, setting the bowls on his only place to properly eat in his apartment- a small peninsula in his kitchen that extends to fit four people. He sits to find one Y/N having already gotten him water and found acetaminophen to set next to his bowl. 

“So, you were busy while you were waiting for me, huh?” Namjoon quips more than anything. He gestures to the air around them, the scent. His dry humor doesn’t seem to hit the spot, though.

“I’m sorry about that as well. I was so excited to see a home, your home, and your space. And- I know it’s important to not interfere but it just- came out.” She cringes at herself, her eyes finally leaving him to focus on her bowl of food. Namjoon finds himself hiding his smile in his bite of food, savoring the flavor that he hasn’t had in a while. His amusement doesn’t last long with his overthinking. The first bite of her soup is at her lips before he asks. 

“Did it smell bad? Is my scent not- ya’ know? Not good?” 

“No! Not at all. Your scent is- well- really good to put it simply. At first I was just so excited my own scent was pushing out, but then- I smelled you. It was addicting, and I found I was just curious about what our scents are like together. I’m sorry I disturbed your space.”

“It’s okay-”

“You don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.” She states. 

“I’m not. You’ll come to learn I’m very verbal about my wants and disinterests- so I’m telling the truth when I say that your scent is ‘really good’ as well.” Namjoon makes a point to jab at her earlier description, finally bringing another smile to her face. 

“Okay, I’ll remember that. And I’m glad you like it.” She shyly admits. 

“Now that we know that, though, let’s just try not to push it out as much until we get to know each other better- just so we don’t act on instincts too haphazardly.” Namjoon politely suggests. He’d never put someone’s scent over consent and their verbal wants and needs- but if they are truly matched by The Goddess, then he knows that an interest will develop and then scents cloud instincts and will make them both do things they may regret. 

Looking at Y/N now, he can imagine it. He can imagine her being the omega he’d do anything for. Right now, his imagination is only based on what The Goddess has given him, though. That’s the problem. He needs to know her inside and out, not just her sweet, warm scent. The softness of her hair- long, warm brown curls that cascade down to her hips- needs to be a feeling that he could recall into his fingers at any moment. He would need to be able to lick his lips and taste her on them. She’d need to be ingrained into him, just as much as he makes sure he’s the same for her. They are the only two that will know each other as intimately as he wishes. Until then, he will care for her as he’s supposed to, and they will get to know each other- as friends. 

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And I’m guessing you had no clothes?” 

“I didn’t know they’d drop me here naked, I just grabbed the first things I found comfortable.” Again, she seems to be more embarrassed of herself in that realization, but she pushes on. “I can get a job. The Goddess taught me how to have good communication and hard work.” 

He didn’t think of that. Should she work? Does she want to work?

“For now, let’s just see how things workout, and if you wish to work, I’ll help you with the process. If you enjoy being here without one, or find out you hate it, then no big deal- I earn enough. Let’s get you some clothes today, though, some things that are better suited for your skin, yeah?” Her eyes light up immediately, her eyes never leaving Namjoon in the dark about how she feels. He likes that already. 

“I can go outside today?” 

“Y/N, you can go outside whenever you want-” He catches her ready to interrupt but he can already guess what she’ll ask. “We’ll talk about scenting another time. But, I am not going to tell you what you can and can’t do. I’m assuming you want to stay here-” A few satisfied nods from her is the answer. “Then we’ll have some basic rules. We tell each other where we’re going, or if we want to go out and do something- just so we know and just so we’re both as safe as possible. We don’t invade each other’s privacy ever- when doors are shut we always knock and when we’re curious about something we ask. We tell each other how we feel if we are having issues or when one wishes to communicate a change in the rules. We are two separate people who have our own needs, and we both need to respect that. I think those are most important, but- do you want to add or change anything?” 

“I appreciate how thorough you are, but where do I sleep?” 

-

"How about this? It's soft and similar to the one you're wearing." 

"Hmmm, I don't know if this is what I want to wear daily, though." 

"How about we just get some basics you immediately like and then we'll get more later on when you figure out what you like in broader areas."

The main issue with shopping for a once-celestial-being is that clothing was never a unique-based choice for them. Everything was uniform and based only on what that person chose to cover. 

"I like simple things, but I just want some more color." 

Namjoon scans the racks of the clothing, but only the sections with more colors. Even then, all of the clothing in the women's section is different. Cuts and flares are different or nonexistent. He finally just looks up to ask a question, but finds Y/N with two arms full of choices. 

"There's just so much and I've never tried them before…can I just try stuff on?" 

-

Namjoon waits an odd amount of time to see the first outfit that Y/N shows him. It's not a crowded store, nor are the stores around them busy. But, when she walks out with a tight forest green crop top that obviously shows she has no bra on he immediately feels like every eye is on them. He's not one that cares about it, he's definitely a 'free the nipple' kinda' guy. But the very brief sight has him standing up immediately from the waiting chairs and blocking her from the small entrance that people could see through. 

"This one is so soft and I love this color. The skirt is a little weird, though. Does it look okay?" 

Namjoon pulls his glued gaze from her face to travel down her body. A body that he is now seeing in a new light. The clothes fit as if they were made for her- even a small pudge of her stomach sticks out between the top and the skirt to pull his gaze in. The skirt isn't weird, it's a creme colored, long cargo skirt that is probably a new style he's a little unaware of. If anything, it's perfect and is as lovely as she sounds. It matches her, unlike his hoodies and matching sweats- though he has to stop himself from wishing she’d just wear his clothing all the time. He gets to her feet, his oversized socks and the smaller pair of slippers that Jimin usually wears in his apartment are on her feet. It's so cute and so soft that he has to completely ignore it to give her an honest sounding answer.

"It looks really good." He says it with a heady voice, already obsessed with how everything looks on her. "Is it comfortable?" He changes the topic to not have to say more than he needs to.

"Yes! I tried on some jeans but the baggier stuff and skirts are more comfortable right now. I can try those later on. I like the sweats and softer stuff, this one was just one I wanted your opinion on." 

"Okay, grab whatever you'd like and then we can get shoes and bedding." Namjoon turns before she answers, hoping he isn't stinking up the damn shop.

Now that they’ve left the clothing shop, Namjoon feels like he can breathe. Despite Y/N having already chosen what she’d found comfortable, she wanted his opinion on a few more options just so she didn’t get ‘too much’. He really didn’t mind buying everything she liked, but she was insistent on living with only necessities- just as she did before she was ‘dropped’. That’s how she describes it, so he will as well. All her clothing is plain and is like her clothing before, as she described. Tight, simple bands and flowy fabrics that were different shades of and between white and black. Now, she just wants to add color and, apparently, his opinion. 

“Why do I need extra bedding? Is there an omega version of most personal items? It was always pretty equal before- everything was perfect.”

“I think that’s the point of being directly raised by The Goddess, it’s all catered to you. You don’t think that a blanket could be two different things to one person there? Like, perfectly soft and fuzzy to you but silky and cool for another.”

“Oh, I never thought about it that way. We just got necessities there and, to be honest, there wasn’t a need to share.”

“It’s just easier for those here to have their own stores or versions of preferred necessities because of your skin. Clothing and bedding is softer in certain stores, products can be found in a large variety based on needs and wants as well, and depending on your second gender there are just other needs you have- you know that though.” Namjoon really hopes that this won’t be a conversation he has to have when they barely know each other. He couldn’t imagine The Goddess making things as important as heats and ruts to be something unnecessary in Her ‘magical land above’. 

“Yes, I know. I’m already recognizing that face you make. Please don’t be shy with me- I kind of lied about sharing things back then- we shared heats and ruts with each other if we wished. It wasn’t sacred there like it is here- it was just a means for survival and The Goddess knew it was something that was our choice. Here, though, it’s far more special and we are taught that- I’m only yours, and if you'd like, you’ll be mine.” 

She says these things with such confidence and assurance. He can’t just let her be this open without him giving that energy back, but he’s more so just not ready. This time to get to know her is crucial and keeping their personal information separate if wanted is important to him. He also can’t blame her, she just told him that their bodies were shared if wanted based on survival, and they were watched over all the time and provided for without having much of a say. It’s all just another thing to learn- he’ll learn to get used to her nonchalance. 

“When it comes up we’ll talk about that then and figure it out together.” Namjoon assures her, hoping he sounds as reassuring as possible. 

“Okay. Ooh, these are nice!” Y/N points at a specific type of blanket in one section. She touches the samples of comforters that line the wall under each different type on the shelf. He likes these comforters as well, the airy, padded blankets provide warmth but don’t make you sweat in the hotter months. 

“These ones are good during the hotter seasons as well- I think they’d be good.”

“Can I get two? For nesting.” 

This part doesn’t take long at all. Namjoon suggests some things and lets her pick out whatever her heart desires as this is all stuff he’ll be less helpful in. By the end, Namjoon is carrying the two clothing bags, and two regular pillows while Y/N’s usual giddy face doesn’t struggle at all to carry the two comforters and two plushies she thought ‘looked like him’. He tried denying the panda, but the koala wasn’t an awful comparison. (He folded immediately). 

“What’s next?” She asks with excitement on her face.

“We plan dinner and then go to bed.” 

“Oh..okay!” The excitement leaves her, but only for a second. 

She never thinks long about what it is she’s taking in. She’d definitely not one to take things lightly, as she said she’d been memorizing his fucking expressions, so it’s probably just content. She’s content to be here and do whatever he suggests because that’s all she knows. 

“How about we go out to dinner? Is there anything you like?” He watches her think for another slow couple of seconds, and then she’s excited again to talk to him. 

“Whatever is your favorite. I’d like to just try something new.”

“You’re going to be sorely disappointed.” Namjoon gives her a mischievous smile that’s more fond-looking when it’s directed at her. 

-

It’s a seedy pizza spot that is honestly not actually all seedy. Namjoon was never one to judge a place or person on how they look- so, when he stumbled upon this place that seemed to be the only thing open after a late-night recording session, he gave it a shot. It’s shitty on the outside with a dirty, worn down awning that could just be black on purpose and a sign that you can barely read. The inside is far better, luckily. It’s as clean as you could probably get the place without gutting it, and the owner is the one making the pizzas. It’s not very seedy because of that and the fact that the owner won’t share his real name. He named it ‘Mario’s’ only because he likes the games and wanted people to think he knew what the fuck he was doing. So, Namjoon isn’t sure- but the pizza’s fucking amazing. 

Y/N doesn’t look like she should be walking into the establishment. She’s bright-eyed and wanting to take in the world as it is her first time seeing it, technically. He doesn’t know how exactly she lived or what she has seen, but it really seems as if she’s appreciative of even the dust lining the crevices of the flooring. 

“Hey, music man. The usual?” 

“Yeah, but double it, please.” 

“Ooh, pretty lady here.” Despite Namjoon never having a jealous moment in his life before this, he immediately tenses up at the attention he gives her.

“Hi! I’m Y/N.”

“Very sweet, well I’ve seen you in here by yourself too many times- so, I’ll charge you for one order today, ey? Nice date, nice price.” 

“Thanks, man.” Namjoon tries to get the conversation over with, looking over to Y/N to see that she doesn’t mind one bit.

“Is this a date?” She suddenly asks, bouncing off the idea that the owner obviously put into her head.

“Just dinner as friends right now. I’d let you know if it was a date, I’m really possessive.” Namjoon says it a little louder than necessary as he leads her to a booth seat that conceals her from the counter’s view. “Let me pay, I’ll be right back.” 

Namjoon misses the giddy smile that Y/N has at the new information she now holds in getting to know her alpha. They aren’t each other’s yet, but he’s all she knows right now and he’s treating her so well. It seems bound to happen that he’ll become closer to her- her's, in all senses that she finds meaningful. It’ll mean she’s doing well, and that she won’t disappoint The Goddess or Namjoon. 

The wait isn’t long, Namjoon’s favorite part besides the perfect slices of pizza. 

“One pepperoni slice and one cheese. I’m a simple man.” 

“I like simple.” Is all she tells him with a shrug before she greedily eats the cheese slice. She talks as she eats, not caring for the food in her mouth. “Wow, there was nothing like this! We didn’t need to eat, but there were cravings in our time of heat. I usually craved something sweet, and with only the necessities being our priority it was usually fruit. We learned to cook basic things as well- breads, soups, and different kinds of rice.” 

Namjoon feels comfortable talking with a half-full mouth now as well, becoming more and more comfortable with a stranger that he just acquainted himself with this morning. 

“You’re in luck, besides music, I’m a professional take-out order-er.” 

“Mmm,” it seems she takes that information and is already imagining the good food that she doesn’t know exists yet. “I didn’t know you made music- that’s your job?” 

“Yeah, I produce music but I’m mostly at home doing it. Sometimes I’ll go in to help with a recording, but that’s not often. I just get paid to make the beats or change lyrics whenever they need help with that.” 

“That’s really cool. Could I hear something sometime?” She looks so interested, so enthralled by him that he almost chokes up at the attention she’s giving him. He doesn’t feel worthy as an alpha to be someone she’s interested in. He’s never had someone look at him like he has all the answers and can provide for her without a second thought. He knows this is a learning process for them both, but he’s thinking that she’s already set on whatever it is she was made for- while he’s just a man that is still figuring out everything himself. A stable job and a home that he can provide isn’t enough. He isn’t enough yet. 

“You’ll probably hear it all the time when I’m working during the week.” 

“Yay.” She gives him that same smile, now with her lips sealed because of the food in her mouth. Grease stains her lips and he has to push down the want to wipe it from her. Her lips, now that he’s looking, are plump and the pink of them is hiding under a layer of orange grease. Despite that, they’re still kissable, memorable, probably soft and pliant in times of need-

“Here’s a napkin.” 

“Thank you!” She takes it and immediately uses it. 

He has to stop doing that.

-

It’s only once they’re home and have hauled everything up to the apartment that Namjoon realizes it was a horrible idea to share the bed. He wants to be a gentleman and he doesn’t want to just push her away. She’s here for an obvious reason, they were matched- supposedly perfect for each other- and he only feels like a dick pushing her away to sleep on his uncomfortable couch. 

He shows her how to use the washing machine, and as they wait it’s far more awkward than he means for it to be. 

“Have you tried the TV yet?” Namjoon asks as she goes through her bag of clothes to show Namjoon the contents. He mentally smacks himself, he really didn’t have to ask, he could just turn it on and put a random show on to end the night. 

“No, I didn’t want to touch anything I wasn’t familiar with.” She’s nonchalant about it, why can’t he be nonchalant about it?

“Okay, I got these to sleep in, they didn’t have that many options so I hope I can borrow a shirt to sleep in if that’s okay?” She holds up a pair of sleep shorts that has far too little fabric. It’s her choice to wear them- he’s not a fucking teenager, he’ll be fine. 

“And I know it’s most decent, so I did find these to wear…” she has to find the tag and read them. “Sports bras.” She holds up the three-pack proudly to show him. Despite her being the one to show him, he feels invasive, immediately turning away after a quick smiling nod to turn on the TV.

“And then this skirt as well as this smaller one, and a more flowy one. The fabrics are nice- I like how different they are here.” 

“Very pretty.” He says, hoping it was normal enough. 

“Thank you! And then just a few more of those shirts like the green one and a couple hoodies and sweats like yours. We’ll match! Plus these shoes and socks will go with everything I got.” She excitedly looks over her things again and again. She’s so happy with just those, so happy with the simple things and the shitty restaurant that he’d never even think about taking a woman to unless they were much more comfortable together. 

In his thinking, he doesn’t notice Y/N standing in front of him until she’s holding up that pair of sleep shorts for him. He takes them without thinking, looking up from the couch to give her a questioning look. 

“You said we could talk about scenting later. Is scenting my clothes off-limits?” She looks down at him with worry in her eyes and a peak of worry slips through to make him weak in the- everything, really. 

“No, uh, no that’s okay.” It’s a possessive thing he feels when he scents the shorts, looking up at her as he gives them a good rub against his neck and even going the extra measure to make sure his scent is thick and potent. 

“There.” He hands them back, the soft fabric going straight to her nose to take in a whiff. He wants so badly to know how much she enjoys it, if she enjoys it as much as he enjoys her’s. She takes her time, then points to the pile of clothes. 

“Can you do the rest once those are clean?”

“Yeah.” It’s a breathy response, hanging onto the hope that he’ll be able to scent her at some point. Having his scent on her things, on her body, it truly finalizes the fact that she’s here for him. She was made to bless someone- all pretty omega, inside and out, and soft features with a soft body. She was made to bless him, he realizes. Though he doesn’t know if it was meant to be him from the beginning, she was still curated in a way that led them together. He doesn’t deserve it. Not when he’s clunky and unconfident in his abilities to be her alpha. His instincts are kicking in without the confidence to even put them to use. 

“Let’s get the bed ready, however you like it we can change it, yeah?” He’s suddenly antsy in his need to make his room presentable and safe. He’s grabbing both blankets and pillows and is in the bedroom before Y/N even makes it there, still becoming more and more tired after her adventures today. 

“Are you tired?” He asks, noticing her tired eyes and the shorts still lifted to her nose. He gets a nodding answer. Perfectly, maybe by fate even, the dryer chimes its finish, indicating that now both of her new blankets are clean and warm.

While he is just about freaking out over never having made a nest before, Y/N is at his side and pulling one thing at a time from his arms. She places the blankets haphazardly in his eyes, just making a small dip for her to cuddle into. Even in her fog of scent and growing tiredness, she is able to do what she needs for her comfortable nest. He even lingers on the fact that she’s making it on the correct side, probably having already noticed where his scent lingers the most. 

“Okay, we sleep.” she almost gets into the bed before Namjoon is tugging at her (his) hoodie, pulling her back. 

“No outside clothes. You need to be comfortable and clean.” She immediately obeys, pulling her (his) sweats down as he looks up at the ceiling to admire the texture. He remembers she needs one of his shirts so he uses that as an actual excuse, plucking a random one from the hangers to hand to her. He completely turns around for that part, waiting only until he hears her settle into the bed before he turns back to her. He catches her arm sticking out, patting the large space next to her, before disappearing again. 

She’s going to be the death of him, really. A pretty omega nesting in his bed. 

He’s a rod next to her. Stiff and trying to take up as little room as possible. He has work tomorrow and a new responsibility he has to navigate- he can’t just stay up all night and be useless in both ways. 

“Namjoon.” Despite how tired she was, she whispers to him with a lucid voice. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m just- I don’t know- tense? Could I…sleep with your hand?” 

This is more intimate than he thought it’d be. To have her in his bed, wanting his wrist to scent freely and maybe even scent herself. He’s not one to take scenting lightly. To him, it’s special, and should be sacred to the one he is to be with for the rest of his life. He was fine with the clothes, he maybe even thought about it a few times since their shopping trip- but is this too much too fast?

“Nevermind, I’m sorry, I know we didn’t talk about that yet.” She whispers again. 

“Y/N.” It’s silent for a few long seconds. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m not sure if I want to scent right now, but could I- could we just try this once and I can let you know how I feel?” 

“Are you sure? I know I just came to you so abruptly, I don’t want my presence to change your previous boundaries. I’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He really thinks about it, about how he’s felt before with others he’s been interested in. Even with Seokjin and Jimin, he’s never thought about scenting them or even needing to push out his own scent in situations that needed his ‘dominance’ for assistance. It was never something he prioritized, or had a reason for. So, the fact that it’s now wanted and needed, it feels intimate. But, maybe wanting to give this to her is what’s right. If not, and he’s reading this wrong, he’ll let her know. His own rule was to be open and to voice their concerns. 

“It’s okay, here.” He sticks out his arm before he can overthink it more. She takes his hand as if it were a precious jewel, her skin is just as soft as he imagined. Maybe it was even better- but he can’t explain it. All he knows is that his own skin seems to call out for her, yearning for a touch he has just met. A touch that he only knew of a second ago. He grasps onto her hand, rubbing his thumb into the back of it as she directs him to her nose. The brush of her nose is like static, a shock to his system that he’s never felt before. His sensitive scent gland there is immediately releasing his scent in wafts that she only snuggles closer to. 

“It’s so good. Is this okay?” She mumbles, clearly trying to keep a clear head as well. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, but really he’s just trying to keep cool. “Do you feel better?” 

“Yes, it’s safe and warm. Thank you, Namjoon.” 

With her nose and upper lip pressed to his wrist- with a mumble of his name whispered into his own skin- he lets out a ragged breath, and he himself tries his best to drift to sleep. It isn’t long before he’s actually tiring down, her sweet, warm scenting pushing out to meet him. She could probably scent the nerves. He doesn’t mind how it happens, nor how they’ll wake up at this point. Now, he can rest, knowing a sweet omega is safe in his home.