#unusual butterfly presents

[noisycowboyglitter]

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[mikkomacko]

need a sequel to the NYE nico fic ! like maybe she tells him she’s pregnant on valentines day

Well this definitely got away from me but ask and you shall receive!

Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, breeding kink

Part two of this Next part

You can hear him pacing through the door. Maybe it would have been better to just let him wait in the bathroom but you couldn’t risk ruining your surprise. Even if it meant you had to drive Nico insane for a couple days.

Besides, he seems to play better hockey when he’s frustrated anyway, something you’ve always admired. Nico doesn’t shut down and run in the face of adversity, he pushes harder and harder, grows even more stubborn than he already is.

Which is how you ended up with a daily sex schedule on a shared doc after Nico discovered that his drunken New Years Eve romp wasn’t as successful as he thought it’d be. He was determined, and you weren’t complaining. You’d take any chance to have set pillow princess time with Captain Nico.

“Please tell me it’s been 10 minutes?” He whines through the door, and you bite back a giggle at his tone. The pregnancy test you’d just taken rests on the counter in front of you, a bright and clear positive sign on it.

Butterflies swarm in your chest, your suspicions true after the past couple days of tender breasts and raging hormones. You have to swallow a couple times to clear away any happy tears, quietly stuffing the positive test in your old box of tampons.

“Like two more minutes, Nico hold on.” You call back, deciding to hide the test in your bathroom junk drawer instead. Nico has taken up the habit of checking your tampons and pads to see if you started your period lately and the last thing you need is him ruining his present.

After tucking it away, you fish out the negative one from awhile back that you saved just for this. Steeling yourself, you force the smile on your lips into a frown.

“Nico,” you say softly, your voice cracking because you do feel bad lying to him and you feel like crying over anything and everything right now.

“Yeah?” He calls back through the door and you can practically see him pressed into it on the other side. “Come out please? I need to see you.”

You flick the lock and open the door, clutching the negative test in your fist. Nico is crowded in the door way, big brown eyes already looking at you with an unusual droopiness. He doesn’t even look for the test in your hand, just takes in the tears in your eyes and the way you’re biting your lip nervously.

“Aw baby,” he mumbles, opening his arms for you. You step into his embrace, resting your cheek against his chest and wrapping your arms around him. He squeezes you tightly, large biceps caging your body to his and his fingers tangle in your hair. He nuzzles into the top of your head, and you feel his chest rise with deep breaths as he pulls himself together.

“I’m sorry Nico,” you say, sincerely knowing he’ll think you’re apologizing for not being pregnant. But you’re more apologizing for lying to him, for disappointing him one last time.

“No,” he says firmly, and you let him wordlessly walk you towards the bed. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We’ll get it, I know we will.”

And there’s that determination. You lighten up a bit at that, realizing that maybe this didn’t hurt him as much as you thought it would. Pulling back from his embrace, you look up at him to find a wetness in his eyes that wasn’t there before and your heart falls to your stomach. Instinctively, you press your palm into your belly, wincing at the way your gut twists with guilt.

Frowning, Nico takes your wrist and pulls your hand back, placing it over his heart instead. His heart thuds against the pads of your fingers, strong and steady like him.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” you whisper, looking down at your hand. He’s in the same black shirt he wore that night at the bar. You almost smile, thinking about how sweet and excited he was about starting a family.

“Not crying,” he insists “just a little water.”

You laugh gently, meeting his gaze again to find him smiling. “That is crying, for you.” You argue and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“No, you’ll see real bawling like a baby tears from me when we get our baby.” He promises. “And I don’t want hear sorry then either.”

You simply nod, heart warming at his words. Nico’s always so positive, so ready to take on anything with you. Prepared, he’s always a step ahead. You hope that this time you’ll finally catch him lagging. He’s a hard man to surprise.

“Give me a kiss and let me take you bed.” He requests, tapping the top of your head like you’re one of his teammates that’s just scored a goal. Giggling, you stretch up to seal your lips with his, sinking into the haze that is Nico in love. You don’t even pay attention to him slipping the negative test from your hand until he’s pulling back from the kiss and hiding it behind his back.

“Fresh start,” he says, stepping around you to take it to the bathroom. He tosses it in the trash, flicking off the light before joining you at the bottom of the bed.

“Thank you,” you murmur, kissing his chin before taking him by the hand to his side of the bed. Instead of climbing over to yours, you peel back the blankets and lay against his pillow. Taking a moment to fluff everything how you like, you open your legs for him and pat your thighs.

His eyes crinkle with his laugh, cheeks turning pink and you giggle when he knees way on top of you. You give him a sec to settle in, laying on his tummy between your thighs with his elbows on either side of your head.

“Night my love.” He whispers, resting his nose against yours and pecking at the corner of your mouth. You pull the blankets up over him, letting him reach over to flick off the lamp before he slides further down your body in the darkness.

Nico rests his head on your chest, one hand holding your thigh and the other sliding under the small of your back. He can’t stay like that all night but for now he’ll try.

“Night neeks,” you mumble into the top of his head, closing your eyes and stroking your fingers up and down his broad back. He adjusts his head, a curious noise coming from his mouth.

After a moment, his voice breaks the stillness.

“I thought you were pregnant,” he whispers, and you hum to let him know you’re listening. “Your boobs are bigger,” he continues and you blink your eyes open to stare at the ceiling.

Of course he’d fucking notice that.

“And you cum really fast now,” he adds as an afterthought. “Like really fast, always so wet too. I don’t even have to try anymore.”

Of course he’d notice that too. And it’d be hot, the cockiness of his words if they didn’t drip with disappointed confusion.

“Oh,” you mumble, unsure of what to say.

“Maybe we should see someone?” He prods, and his fingers nervously stroke over your thigh. You realize he’s feeling insecure about this, about not being able to get to you pregnant. He feels at fault, like he needs help somehow. Your heart almost breaks at the thought and you so badly want to tell him the truth.

When you don’t respond he continues, “I just, not that I think anything is wrong with us but I…”

You bury your other hand in his hair, scratching his scalp to soothe him.

“I want this so badly,” he confesses. “And I want it now.”

Guilty and unsure of what to do, you hold him tighter. “I know Nico. But it hasn’t been that long and maybe we just need to try more?”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly “yeah but I think I’m still gonna do research, ok?”

You smile in the darkness. Always ready to go, to do more. You’d expect nothing less of him.

“Ok baby,” you agree “now get some rest for tomorrow. That schedule of yours has us down for like 3 times.”

He giggles boyishly and you swoon like a school girl. “Not that you need it since I’m apparently easy now.”

Nico snuggles further into your chest. “Nah think I’ve just spoiled you with good dick too often now.”

You can’t deny his words so you just kiss his forehead, shushing him to sleep. Hopefully you can keep up this act for the next couple days.

~

Nico came home to a romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day. This year it was your turn to plan, so you’d made his favorite pasta dish and set the table up all nice and pretty with pink and red confetti and candles and heart balloons.

Dressed up in his favorite little red silk dress you owned, you two talked and laughed over dinner, him sipping his beer and you water as you simply caught up on everything. You’re lucky to have Nico as both your lover and best friend, it makes conversation easy and fun, and kept it away from the topic of a baby. You figured a break from it would be refreshing, especially after that damn schedule of his had almost half the day blocked away for sex.

“Extra on the day of love,” he’d explained with an innocent smile and you let him be.

You needed him happy and distracted until dessert. And he was, so happy he didn’t even notice your lack of alcohol or the way your hormones had your eyes on his lips and half unbuttoned dress shirt all night.

Finally, at dessert you sealed the deal. Perched up on the kitchen counter with your legs swinging, you dipped a mini marshmallow into the chocolate fondue he made. Popping it into your mouth, you admired him as he poured two glasses of sparkling cider, in a bottle you made look like champagne.

Nico handed you your glass, parting his lips for a bite of chocolate covered strawberry that you fed him. You caught his lips right after, enjoying the sweet taste of dessert on his tongue.

“You know,” he murmured “I think we’ve still got an hour on the calendar.”

You laughed, peeling back from him to take a drink from your glass. Nico watched you with big moony eyes, dimples in his cheeks and his free hand wandered to your hip to hold you. Catching the way his eyes fell to your cleavage, you kicked at his thigh to keep him from staring too long. The last thing you need is him noticing that your boobs have grown even bigger in the last two days.

“Drink your champagne and then maybe,” you instruct and he huffs, rolling his eyes before bringing the glass to his lips. You watch him take a drink, notice the way his eyebrows furrow and he quietly smacks his lips afterwards.

Looking at you curiously, he frowns. “Baby this isn’t alcoholic?” He takes another drink before you can answer, still smacking his lips before setting the glass down.

“What?” You play along, slinking down from the counter and moving to the other side of the island. Nico pays you no mind, grabbing the bottle off the counter and lifting it to read the back of the label.

“What kind even is this?” He mutters, ever the Swiss wine critic and you smile as you dig out the positive test from where you hid it in the kitchen drawer.

Bouncing on your toes, you return to his side just as he turns the bottle to the front. It takes him a moment to fully read it. The custom label you made that in fancy lettering reads

Baby on the way!

Congrats daddy!

2024

“What?” He mutters confused, but you can feel the excitement bubbling in his chest as the words start to click.

“This might help,” you offer, placing the test on the counter in front of him. You attach yourself to his back, arms around his waist as you bite back a smile. Nico immediately picks it up, and you feel his whole body tense.

“No fucking way,” he mumbles, bottle and test clattering to the countertop. Nico shakes your hold off, spinning around to you. “Baby w-what? Are you-what?”

He grabs your face between his palms, eyes already filled with happy tears as they bore into your own watery ones.

“We’re pregnant Nico.” You confirm, laughing wetly. It’s as if he’s unsure of what to even do with himself, going between clutching your smiling face and raking his fingers through your hair. Finally he settles for wrapping you up in his arms, spinning you around the kitchen and hopping around like a giddy child.

You paw at his neck and shoulders, needing something to hold onto because he feels like he’s going to float up to the ceiling with you in his arms.

“We’re having a baby!” He cheers through a laugh “A baby! My baby!”

By the time he’s placed you back on the ground you’re breathless and dizzy from laughing. You cling to him, happy tears rolling down your cheeks and you’re so glad you decided on no makeup tonight.

Tear tracks stain his cheeks, his smile so big you think it might fall off his face and his neck has gotten all red and splotchy from excitement. You coo at him, tracing your fingers over it as if trying to soothe him.

“How long? I mean just the other day-“

“I lied,” you admit, frowning guiltily. “The test I showed you was old but I wanted to surprise you. I know you wanted this as a birthday gift so I figured I’d just make it a Valentine’s Day gift. I’m so sorry-“

His lips cut you off, sweet and passionate as he teasingly traces his tongue over your bottom lip. Nico backs you up into the countertop, moaning softly when your chest presses into his.

“No apologies,” he insists when he pulls back, still smiling. “This is the best gift.” He kisses you again, softer and shorter this time.

“Do you know how long?”

You play with the top button of his shirt. “I haven’t gone to like a doctor or anything. I only realized it last week and I took that test two nights ago but I think I’m a little over a month.”

A shit eating grin overtakes his face. “News Year Eve I knew it!” He exclaims, kissing at your cheeks and you laugh. “Or maybe my birthday. God we were so good on my birthday.”

“We’re always good,” you argue, pressing your front into him. You can feel the bulge of his cock in his jeans against your lower stomach but you don’t comment on it, waiting for him to do so.

“Yeah,” he agrees thoughtfully, eyes raking over your face. You bat your eyes at him, smiling shyly until he chuckles.

“I’m hard,” he admits as if you didn’t know. You hum your agreement, slowly working the other buttons of his shirt undone.

“Let’s go take care of it,” you murmur into his ear, breathy when you add a sly “daddy” to the end. Nico’s knees shake, a painful groan escaping his red lips and he’s scooping you up and hurrying to the bedroom.

You whine, pointing toward the couch and kicking your feet in protest. “It was so much closer,” you complain and he grunts in disgust.

“Not fucking my pregnant girl on the couch on Valentine’s Day,” he argues, tossing you gently into the pillows. “M’gonna take good care of ya.”

Shamelessly, you watch him unbutton the rest of his shirt and strip it from his body, squeezing your thighs together as he moves onto his jeans. He drops them and his boxers in one go, eager as he crowds over you on the bed, cock red and dripping as he goes.

You almost moan at the sight of him, hungry and desperate for him despite how often he’s been between your thighs lately. Nico notices, simpering as he works your dress up your thighs and torso, revealing the white panties you wore underneath with a simple red heart on the front. You’d forgone a bra early today, knowing it would just be uncomfortable and awkward and Nico mumbles his appreciation when he gets the dress up around your neck.

His lips find the swell of your left breast, kissing gently at the swollen flesh as he blindly works your clothing over your head.

“My pretty girl,” he says more to himself than you, moving to the other breast as you toss the dress to the floor. “God I knew something was different.”

You laugh, tangling his hair in your fingers and drawing his mouth up to yours. He kisses you sloppily, hands moving to your underwear. Nico doesn’t even tease you before he’s pushing them down and you help wiggle out of them impatiently.

Your cunt throbs, wet and raw and desperate to feel him again and again. You whimper into his lips, slinging a leg around his waist to draw him closer.

“Need you now, Nico please.” You beg as his mouth moves to your neck. His hand blindly reaches down to fist himself, and he obediently obliges your begging by burying his cock in you, one swift motion.

You gasp for a breath as your toes tingle, pleasure swirling in your belly and Nico moans in your ear, voice husky and broken. He’s just as desperate as you.

“So fucking wet, Jesus,” he mutters in astonishment, lifting himself to watch you writhe beneath him. “All needy and horny for the cock that put a baby in you? Always ready for me weren’t you? Should fill you up, put another one in you right now huh?”

You slur some sort of agreement, as least something intelligible enough for Nico. His dirty mouth continues, working you tighter and tighter as he steadily ruts into you.

“Did I take care of you sweetheart?” He asks lowly, mouth hot against your ear. “Before? When I didn’t know?”

Your jumbled, sex fogged brain clicks for just a moment. He’s not just talking dirty, not trying to get you to cum. He genuinely wants to know if he fucked you good enough all those times before. When he didn’t know you were dripping into the mattress because your pregnancy brain was all hot and bothered over him 24/7. Because he was so focused on just putting a baby in you that he didn’t pay attention to the fact he already had.

“Yes!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulders. You meet his gaze, eyes glossy and wild with love. “So good Nico, every time. Felt like you knew.”

His hips slow, rocking into you softy. “Yeah?”

You nod, frantically, the slow drag of his cock against your sensitive walls driving you mad. “Didn’t even notice,” you admit to him, earnestly “but you got so soft, so strong and instinctive like…”

Like a parent, you realize. He always fucked you like he was trying to thank you for giving him something so precious while also taking care of you.

“Like I wanted to make you feel so fucking good without hurting our baby.” He fills in, because he’s realized it too. His mind may have been in the dark before, but his body wasn’t.

“Can I cum?” You ask pathetically, fighting to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. Nico coos at you, sympathetic and gentle when he slots his mouth to yours for a quick nip at your lips.

“Always, can always cum for me baby.” He promises, pressing his chest down low to yours. His knees dig into the mattress, steeling himself as he draws his cock out to the tip and then fucks into you with earnest.

You cry out, the head of him nudging into you so perfectly you could melt. Nico kisses you as best he can around your blubbering noises of pleasure, the flames of your orgasm licking at your core.

Nico’s fingers find your clit, the pads of them rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. White bursts behind close eyes, your toes curling and ears roaring as you reach your high.

“Ooh,” Nico breathes into the side of your face “yes sweetheart, come on my cock. So good, you’re so good to me.”

The rest of his needy mumbles are lost to you, your mind occupied with the wave of pleasure that sweeps over you, pulsing with each pass of Nico’s fingers and each thrust of his hips.

Foggy and hazy you hear him whimper, find enough of yourself to kiss him slowly as his cock twitches and throbs, filling you with his cum. His lips are languid and hot against yours, broken breaths and moans falling from them as you both come down.

Finally he settles into your neck, taking one last deep breath before he’s holding you tight to his body and rolling to his back. You go with him easily, falling into his chest like a rag doll and curling up. Unsure if it’s him enjoying the moment or habit by now, you sit comfortably on his softening cock with no protest, exhaustion pulling at your bones already.

“All I want to do lately is jump your bones or sleep,” you mumble to him, yawning afterwards. His chest rumbles with laughter, hands running up and down your spine in some unknown pattern.

“I can live with that,” he says, “like fucking you so good you get all sleepy afterwards. Snuggle into me so nicely.”

You smile, eyes falling shut as you curl your arms around him. The room falls silent save for the sound of you two still catching you breaths, and the rise and fall of his chest is lulling you to sleep when he speaks up.

“Thank you,” he whispers “for giving me a baby.”

You can hear the emotion in his voice, how it sticks in his throat and weighs down his words. If you look at him you don’t imagine he’d be crying, but pretty damn close you think.

“Don’t thank me until the baby is here,” you reply, and than just because you can feel him starting to slip from between your thighs you add. “Besides, this is the work of you and the pretty cock of yours.”

Nico jolts as if you’d just pinched him, hips pressing up into you and his cock twitches with interest. You giggle, amused at his predictability as he whimpers.

“You’re gonna have fun with this aren’t you?” He asks but he doesn’t sound too upset.

Tired and content, you nod. This is going to be a fucking blast.

[trulyumai]

planting chaos

pairing: Stanford Pines / Reader (+Infatuated Bill Cipher)

synopsis: Bill cypher and Ford are buddies, right? And what kind of buddy wouldn’t enter inside their pals mind and kind, of maybe, well… fall in love with their special buddies significant other!? Ha!

warnings: none!

a/n: This was a request, thank you anonymous!

Chapter One: Oh Great Eye o’ Mine!

Gravity Falls was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant sound of water flowing in the stream. In the shadows, a figure stood out—an odd triangular shape with a single eye, casually perched on a branch. Bill Cipher had found himself unusually fascinated with the mind of one Stanford Pines, the brilliant but guarded scientist. As he dug deeper into Ford’s psyche, he stumbled upon a hidden gem—a thought, a feeling, a name: you.

He had seen you around the Pines’ household, quiet and often retreating into the safety of your own thoughts. You were the type to fade into the background, unnoticed yet undeniably present. Bill couldn't resist the thrill of a challenge. With a grin, he dove into Ford's mind, the connection growing stronger as he navigated through memories and emotions.

—————————————

Your first real encounter with Bill came on a chilly evening. You were sitting alone on the porch, reading a book, when the air shimmered and twisted. Suddenly, Bill appeared before you, his form vibrant and unsettling.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said, tilting his head with a mischievous smile. "A shy little butterfly trapped in a web of words. How quaint!"

You jumped, nearly dropping your book. “What do you want?” Your voice was barely a whisper, laced with fear.

“Want? Oh, darling, I just wanted to meet the intriguing mind that’s been wandering around Ford’s thoughts!” His tone was playful, but there was an edge of something deeper—curiosity.

Days turned into weeks, and Bill began visiting you more often. At first, he was a chaotic force in your life, bringing an unpredictable energy that both frightened and fascinated you. He would often joke about your timid nature, but there was a softness in his gaze when he looked at you.

“Why do you hide in the shadows?” he asked one evening, floating beside you as you sat on the porch. “You’ve got such potential! So much to offer!”

You sighed, feeling exposed under his intense gaze. “It’s just… easier to blend in. No stresses, no expectations. People don’t see me and that’s okay.”

“But I see you,” he insisted, a genuine sincerity lacing his playful demeanor. “And I like what I see. You’ve got real spark, Kiddo!” He twirled a shadowed hand before continuing.

“So much untapped talent waiting to be broken into!”

You couldn’t help but blush at his words, a mixture of flattery and confusion swirling within you. As the days passed, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, despite the chaos he embodied.

——————————————————

As Bill became a constant presence in your life, you opened up to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You shared your dreams, your fears, and even your thoughts on Ford’s experiments. Bill, in return, revealed fragments of his own existence—his chaotic nature, his longing for connection, and, surprisingly, his loneliness.

“Even a demon needs a friend,” he said one night, his tone shifting from teasing to sincere. “And you, my dear, are the most fascinating being I’ve encountered.”

You could feel your heart race. “I’m just… me. Why would you want to be friends with someone like me?”

“Because you’re different. You see the world through a lens that’s uniquely your own. That’s rare and delightful,” he replied, floating closer, his eyes glinting with mischief yet softened by warmth.

As your connection deepened, Ford’s paranoia began to grow. He sensed something amiss with Bill’s presence around you and his mind. Late one night, Ford confronted Bill, accusing him of manipulating you.

“Stay away from her, Bill! She doesn’t understand the danger you pose!” Ford’s voice was sharp, filled with protective anger.

Bill simply laughed, unfazed. “Oh, Ford, you worry too much! She’s not just a pawn in my game. She’s special.” His eyes flickered toward you, who stood off to the side, uncertain.

Feeling cornered, Ford’s protective instincts kicked in, and he attempted to sever the connection Bill had forged with you. “You need to leave. Now.”

The tension reached a breaking point. Ford attempted to trap Bill, hoping to contain him once and for all. But in the chaos, Bill turned on Ford with a predatory grin.

“Did you really think you could control me?” he taunted, the air crackling with his energy. “You’re the one who’s been playing with fire!”

You watched in horror as Ford’s plan unraveled, but in the midst of the chaos, Bill’s gaze met yours. There was an intensity there, a desperation that tugged at your heart.

“Join me, won’t you?” he said, a wild glint in his eye. “Let’s make our own destiny! You could be my right-hand gal, and we’d be unstoppable!”

The words echoed in your mind as the battle raged on. Part of you was terrified by the implications, yet another part—one that had slowly grown fond of the chaos Bill represented—was intrigued.

“Bill, wait!” you shouted, stepping forward. “This isn’t what I wanted! You can’t just hurt him!”

Bill’s expression softened slightly, the chaos around him fading for a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you, my dear. I want to show you a world beyond the ordinary—a place where you can truly shine.”

But you were torn. Ford had been a protector, a lover… he had trusted you. “I… I can’t just abandon him,” you murmured, glancing back at Ford.

“Then you’ll always be stuck in the shadows,” Bill replied, frustration mingling with a hint of pleading in his voice. “You could be so much more with me! I can help you break free from your fears.”

In that moment, everything shifted. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your decision pressing down on you. “I won’t choose chaos over what’s right. I won’t let fear dictate my life anymore.”

Bill’s expression darkened, frustration boiling over. “You’re making a mistake! You could have everything!” His voice was laced with desperation, but you stood firm.

“I don’t want everything if it means hurting someone I care about,” you said, your heart pounding. “You may think chaos is freedom, but it’s not worth losing my humanity over.”

With that, you turned away from Bill, stepping closer to Ford. The atmosphere shifted, and you could sense the tension between the two powerful beings. Bill’s laughter echoed, but there was an edge of sorrow in it.

——-—————

The battle reached a climax, and Ford managed to contain Bill, pushing him back into the dimensional rift he had come from. As the rift closed, you felt a pang of regret. You had chosen loyalty over chaos, but the glimpse of what could have been lingered in your heart.

In the days that followed, you struggled with the aftermath. Ford recognized the toll it had taken on you. “You did well, standing up for what you believed in,” he said, his voice softened by understanding. “But it’s okay to feel conflicted about Bill.”

“I just wish he could have seen things differently,” you replied, looking up at the stars that twinkled above. “There was something in him that… wanted connection.”

Ford nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “He’s a complex being. But you chose wisely, and that’s what matters, sweetheart.

Though Bill was gone, you felt a lingering sense of connection, an echo of his chaotic spirit within you. You resolved to embrace your own uniqueness, finding strength in your individuality.

Days turned into weeks, and as the summer began to wane, you found a new purpose. Ford encouraged you to explore your own talents, and you began to step out of the shadows, slowly finding your voice.

But at night, as you lay in bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Bill was still watching. Perhaps he would always be a part of your story, a reminder of the chaos you had chosen to resist.

And somewhere in the depths of the multiverse, Bill Cipher smirked, knowing that even in defeat, he had planted a seed of chaos in your heart—one that would never truly fade away.

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOTES — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: after months of mutual pining, jess arrives at luke’s having read your favourite novel. oh, and he has some notes.

warnings: swearing, jokey sexual reference, other than that just tooth rotting fluff vibes

author’s note: thank you so much for this request, i loved it sm i had to immediately start writing!!! i hope it does jess justice — i love writing him so much. i may go back and edit some bits im not 100% happy with — but i hope you enjoy!!!

pleaaaaase let me know what you think — i love love love reading you guys’ feedback <3

———

“I finished it.”

If you were anyone else, you’d have jumped out of your skin at the sudden, and rather loud, appearance of someone beside you.

But this was you, and it was Jess, so you were more than used to your ‘peaceful’ study sessions at Luke’s being interrupted by his ever-present smirk, his flirting and his endless supply of smartarse comments.

Not that you could complain.

You’d grown used to his omnipresence over a year ago. And it had been months now since you’d realised that you no longer just tolerated his company — you enjoyed it a ridiculous amount and instead longed for it when he wasn’t around.

You eyed him quizzically, noting how proud of himself he looked for reading your favourite book, but also noticing an unusual lack of self-assurance glimmering through his expression.

“I would ask if you mean this trig stuff for Mr Elton,” you gestured down to the homework you’d been painfully poring over for the past hour, “But I know you too well to expect you to actually do your homework, so what are you talking about?”

He didn’t mention that the real reason he never studied in your trig study sessions was because he was more often than not too busy staring at you and coming up with things to say to make you laugh.

Jess raised his eyebrows, but then shook his head and cleared his throat to do a godawful impression of you, “Oh Jess, I can’t believe you’ve never read it. My favourite novel in the whole world and you’ve never read it!”

You scoffed, “If that was supposed to be me, get out of here.”

“Please, like you really want to get rid of me,” he teased, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of you, “Then you’d be miserable and heartbroken and, even worse, have to actually finish your trig homework. Besides, I enjoyed it.”

Your eyes brightened up at this, and you could tell he noticed, “Don’t look so surprised, Y/N. Your taste isn’t that bad… I mean, you hang out with me don’t you?”

“For some reason, yes,” you pretended to grumble, feigning ignorance of the butterflies in your stomach at his usual smug smile, “But you really liked it?”

He sat down in the seat opposite you now, pulling the book from his bag and slamming it down in front of you, “Well, I have notes of course.”

You rolled your eyes, at which he couldn’t help but laugh, “Hey, it wasn’t terrible. I did say I enjoyed it… Some of the notes are nice.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

“You wound me,” Jess feigned a pout, “Romance isn’t usually my genre and you know that.”

“Of course. Hemingway fanboy is too cool for my sappy romantic books, huh,” you joked, heart still racing wildly at the notion he’d even started reading it, let alone finished it.

“Pfft. Austen fangirl should be less rude and give more Hemingway a try, I say,” he quipped back, tongue in cheek.

“Hey, I like Hemingway,” you shook your head, “I just don’t go to bed and jerk off over how great I think he is like you so obviously do.”

He shook his head and pulled a face that faked shock, “And how much time in the day, on average, would you say you spend thinking about what I jerk off over, huh?”

“You are such an ass,” you tutted, swatting his arm, “Approximately none, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“Anyway, if you’re done being gross, let’s get back to the important thing here. You read my book,” You reached to pull the book towards you, only for him to snatch it back and rest his elbows on it.

You furrowed your brows at him, “What’ve you got to hide in there?”

His eyes narrowed, his lip between his teeth now as though he was thinking hard about something.

“C’mon, Mariano,” you leaned forward, “I assumed that since you brought the book with you, I’d get to see at least some of your notes.”

His fingers were picking at the edges of the book’s cloth sleeve, his toes drumming on the floor anxiously like they’d recently begun to do more often when he was around you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, “Look. I’m going to give you this, and then I’m gonna leave the diner, alright? And then, and only then, you can open this book up, and you can read what’s in there. And if you never see me again it’s ’cause I’ve died of embarrassment or something. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes, chin on your palm.

He slid the book in your direction now as you watched him swallow thickly and cocked your head to the side like a curious puppy, “Ever so cryptic, aren’t you?”

“You’ll figure it out, Miss Marple.”

With that, he rose to his feet and darted out of the diner before you could even say another word.

You briefly made eye contact with Luke behind the counter, who watched you carefully for a moment before looking down at the book now carefully clutched between your fingers.

You wasted no time then, pulling open the book and desperately skimming for whatever the hell he was talking about.

You weren’t sure what on earth you expected to find when you flicked through its pages, but it most certainly wasn’t a plethora of sticky tabs with scrawled notes on about how the protagonist reminded him of you.

You expected even less, then, to find a note in Jess’ handwriting at the very back of the book declaring that he realised halfway through — when the two love interests whose relationship bore a crazy resemblance to your own, realised that they were in fact in love — that he’d been stupid to deny that he even liked you, let alone that he’d quite obviously fallen stupidly in love with you.

Shock coursed through you, your heart racing at the uncharacteristically romantic and yet somehow still so incredibly Jess gesture.

You stood up, almost knocking over your chair as you placed the book under your arm and turned to leave, “I’ll be back—uh, soon.”

Luke nodded, “Go get him kiddo.”

You smiled, butterflies whirling in your stomach as you left the diner almost as quickly as Jess had just minutes ago.

You knew exactly where you’d find him — perched on the bridge swinging his feet and letting his mind convince him you wouldn’t in a million years feel the same.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps approaching, you saw him clench his eyes shut as if in hope that he was imagining you and that you’d soon disappear.

“You can’t confess your love for me and then run away, Jess,” you bit your lip as you teased him softly, “It’s not fair not to give me a chance to say it back properly. You do get bonus points for how much of a romance novel cliché that move is, though.”

He sighed, a deep heavy sigh of relief, and it was as though suddenly he reverted to his usual self, “Technically the book confessed my love for you, actually. And the window for reciprocating hasn’t quite closed yet. I’m all ears, pretty girl.”

You loved this.

You loved how easy things always were for you with Jess.

Everything that went unspoken still never went unsaid — sure, you’d been flirtatious friends for a while now, uncertain of quite how seriously he reciprocated your feelings, but deep down you always sort of knew.

You loved that ever since he’d come to Stars Hollow, he’d shown that he cared in his own silly little ways.

And he loved you.

And you loved him.

You sat down at his side, still clutching the book tightly as he finally looked across at you with a small smile.

“You’re such a romantic, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you,” you nudged his side teasingly, “But I— Jess I do love you, and I’ve probably loved you for a long time even though I didn’t want to let myself admit it.”

“Wow, okay Mr Darcy… Wait ‘til Luke hears that the real reason you’ve only just told me that is because you think he’s embarrassing,” he mocked, but you felt him shuffle closer, “I’ve definitely loved you for longer than I thought I had too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Much better, Miss Bennet,” you laughed, linking your arms and leaning against his shoulder as he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.

You felt Jess’ chest rise and fall as you closed your eyes and let the sound of the stream beneath you wash over you.

“So, like, I don’t know the protocol with the whole ‘best friends to lovers’ trope like you do, so you’re gonna have to help me out here,” Jess chuckled.

You sat back up to look at him whilst still keeping hold of his arm, “Hmm, I think what’s meant to happen next is you kiss me and ask to take me on a real date. Pretty sure that’s right.”

“Right, everyone’s favourite cliche moment,” Jess rolled his eyes jokingly but cupped your face with his palms, “God, what have you done to me?”

“You looove me,” your response was muffled as he pressed his lips to yours to shut you up, at first gently and then with a touch more urgency.

When you pulled away, he let go of your face and smiled softly, “So about that date?”

“You got it, Mariano,” you grinned, kissing him quickly once more as you paused, “But you’re going to have a tough time doing anything as romantic as annotating my favourite book and writing me a love note, you know.”

He scoffed, “Oh I’ve got plenty more where that came from, Y/N.”

“Is that a threat?” you giggled, leaning back into his side.

“Just you wait and see.”

———

ok so i kinda lost my way with this a bit eventually and i’m sorry it’s quite short but i had sooooo much fun writing it. i love jess so fucking much and i’m so grateful for all the jess requests i get — trying v hard to work through them asap because it’s so fun.

thanks for reading! here’s my masterlist for more <3

[luvtak]

be my valentine, hhj x reader

✧ genre/tw brain melting fluff, just a little moment of being in love with hyunjin and accidently getting covered in paint, kissing, petnames, unedited.

✧ w/c 1156

✧ a/n ginger write something other than fluff challenged: failed. i wrote this inspired by the song valentine by inhaler and the way it makes me feel as well as the fact that hyunie deserves to have a very sweet love story <3 i hope you like it!!

Looking at him was as painful as the song’s he chose: he was so bright and incandescent that even in small domestic moments like this one,  filled your life with an almost harmful glow. Like a star, he was burning fast and bright and sometimes it felt like he would burn right through you. 

He was gorgeous and funny, and he was all yours. 

It’s an interesting thought, the fact that this independent and lone star would see you and pick you out of a million souls. An unforgettable moment, the way his eyes glanced down at you when he asked to dance–sultry and cool, and unbelievably sweet. 

He looks a bit like that now; paint covering his lifted hands, sweeping over the plains of his cheek to swipe the dark hair out of his eyes. Glancing at you over his painting, a work in progress you were not allowed to see–a valentines present, he said. The look gleaming off him pressed an ache right into your tummy.

 Gazing at him always felt like a gut punch; A tornado of butterflies reaching from his outstretched hands right into your middle. 

The music playing from his phone is melancholy, a slight betrayal to the smile eclipsing his lovely face. As it plays, he sings along, following the woeful melody with that out of place grin. 

“Hyunie, why are you always listening to such sad songs?” it’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and always received a different answer, but this time he only shrugs. You know it's hard for him to respond when he’s painting–focused only on the glide of his brush and the mixing of colors. Reds, blues, greens, etc. shades ranging everywhere from chartreuse to periwinkle, mixing and matching with a wave of his hand. 

“Sad songs are only sad if you are,” he answers late. “Like this one, only the melody is sad, the rest is happy.” 

You try to listen closer, see the music from his eyes, but ultimately the ballad still feels melancholy. Lilting notes piling on top of each other and easing the words, it reminds you of him… the graceful way it speeds up and slows down ; passionate and intimate, beautiful and sad. 

Being unable to admit this to him, you smile, the kind of smile that turns Hyunjin’s knees to jelly and stomach to storms. Secretly, he loves you the most this way: cozy and undone. He has sketches piled up of these moments, you with a book/you cloud watching/laughing with your friends. He adores you, even if he can tell that you don’t like his songs, that you think they’re too sad and wilty. You’re a crescendo of a person, loud and certain, and the music you like follows that. But he can’t help but love you more for listening to him, cuddled up on that tiny chair (surely uncomfortable) just so he can have a bit of company. 

“You look so pretty over there, sweetheart.” Shocked by the shift in his tone you release a nervous giggle and you can feel yourself beginning to warm up. Not like this is unusual behavior for your boyfriend–he’s romantic and glaringly in love with you always, but something about the environment… this tiny room, this beautiful boy (hair pushed back, smile blazing) sends shivers down your spine. 

Laughing, he sets his paintbrush down and wipes his paint-stricken hands off before moving closer. Only taking four steps before he’s in front of you, hands going to your face, hovering gently over the skin of your cheekbones. He never presses down, afraid to dirty your skin with the still green paint on his palms, but the way he’s looking at you gives the illusion that he’s touching you. Raking over your features like a starving man in a desert, lifting from your lips back up to your wide eyes. 

He’s consuming you and yet he’s done nothing. 

You can feel the heat of him, warm palms heating your face almost as much as your nerves. You’ve been together so long now, spent days and months and years becoming intimately aware of his body heat, yet you still feel that familiar shyness creeping up–leading to you biting the side of cheek in hopes of lessening the nerves. 

It’s only when he sees this, you so flustered in front of him, that his hands settle over the side of your jaw. Protective and gentle in his hold, and his crescent shaped eyes smiling at you. Calloused fingers rubbing down your neck, slowly to ease your butterflies. 

“I have them too.” he whispers, and your hands come to his chest, sitting where you know his heart is; beating quicker than you thought possible. How is it that you’re both so nervous? You’ve loved and lost together, know each other more intimately than anyone before, and yet just the sight of him conjures up the nastiest case of jitters. “Gimme a kiss, my love.” He giggled. 

You kiss him once, twice, then three times–kisses that are barely there, mostly just smiles pressed together, lips slightly entwined before releasing–until his hands snake around your waist and pull you closer. Your bodies held against each other like magnets, so close and yet never close enough. He kisses you slowly this time, taking control and easing you into it, lips lingering on yours before moving. Like all things, his kiss is sweet, and he tastes like the dessert you shared earlier: sugary and tart. 

When you move away, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving, his eyes are still closed. And for one moment you can truly see what you do to him–leaving him breathless and rosy. When his eyes open, hazy and lovestruck, you can’t help but to tell him: 

“Hyunjin, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” your voice is hoarse, heart racing inside your chest and you love him. You love him so much you can’t be mad about that paint on your skin, or the uncomfortable itch of his hair scratching your cheeks. 

In response he takes your hand from his shoulder and kisses your palm, right over your love line. High and close to your pinky, you read once that meant you’d have an intense and passionate relationship… maybe it was silly, but you can’t help thinking it must be true, and what a wonderful thought that is. That from the minute you were born you were destined for him; meant to grow up and meet him, to love and be loved in the truest fashion. 

You hope it’s true. 

He kisses you again before going back to his painting, shyly laughing at the sight of you disheveled and covered in paint. He locks in again, focused on colors and shapes, and looks at you one more time, cuddled up and still reeling from the affection, and smiles brighter than any star as he tells you, 

“You’re the most beautiful too.” 

© LUVTAK

[yume-kui]

“you should start keeping a diary. it’d be a cute hobby, don’t you think?”

dan heng pauses, and the brush he’s pulling gently through your hair comes to a rather abrupt stop against your scalp. it only takes him a half-breath to come back to his bearings and continue.

“i don’t see how that’s necessary,” he responds after another moment of quiet. “everything that i could need to record is in the archives already.”

you hum. the current positions the two of you occupy are familiar: seated on the pile of blankets he calls a bed, you cross-legged in front of him, facing away so he can brush your hair. there’s a soft intimacy—domesticity, even—to it that never fails to set off butterflies in your stomach. you’ve told him so countless times. he must be sick of hearing it by now, but he never tells you to stop, so you don't.

“well, there’s a vidyadhara thing for it, isn’t there?” you pick idly at your fingernails as you talk. “that they keep journals for their reincarnations. aren’t there things in this life that you want to bring into the next one?”

dan heng is silent again, but his brushing continues. his movements are careful, deliberate as they work through the tangles and knots.

your reasons for making such a suggestion are simple. for as much as dan heng dedicates himself to recording information about the universe, he’s nearly allergic to writing down anything about himself. you wonder if it’s a deep-seated anxiety from the sins of his past life—really, the origins are none of your business, but you worry for him. you do. with how hard he’s tried in this life, he deserves to find some measure of happiness, divorced from the traumas wrought by yinyue jun and the countless aftershocks that follow him still.

you’d like for him to have some memories he deems worthy of bringing with him into the next life for a change.

on a less selfless note, dan heng always looks good with a book in his hand. even more so if he’s the one doing the writing.

“i suppose that you make a good point,” he says at last. every word is slow, deliberately enunciated in the way he does when he’s deep in thought. he slides the brush through your hair one last time and then he's lowering his arm, satisfied with his work. his hand brushes your shoulder on the way down. it makes you shiver.

“of course i do,” you reply, puffing your chest out a bit for emphasis. “plus, if you write anything about me, it’ll make it easier for us to find each other in our next lives. well, i’ll take a while, but it’d be worth it, don’t you think?”

quiet falls again.

you turn around to face dan heng. it’s not unusual for him to get a little lost in his head when discussing his lives—past, present, and future all—but something heavier has settled in the air. you hope you haven’t upset him.

when you meet his eyes, he looks… wistful, almost. there’s a soft smile curving his lips up, even as some emotion you can’t put a name to swims in his gaze. gently, so gently, he brushes a lock of hair out of your face.

“yes,” dan heng says, “it would be.”

[sjyuns]

🗒️ 、WANNA BE YOURS

brother’s best friend! heeseung x fem reader 1222 words warning kissing injuries genre fluff mikaela’s note a new fav trope arises from a single hee pic… life’s absolutely crazy

“Are you even listening to me?” Jay’s voice pierces through your train of thoughts, and you almost roll your eyes in annoyance if it wasn’t for the way Heeseung gave you a small smile which made you flush in embarrassment.

You wish Jay could shut up, because then only would you be able to admire Heeseung in peace and tranquillity. His hair dripping with sweat and basketball jersey showcasing his muscular arms that glimmered under white light — Lee Heeseung looked almost god-like and unreal.

As you continue to stare at him, who looks back at you all doe eyed and full of adoration, you wince when you notice a cut on his lips. “What happened, Hee?”

Heeseung feels goosebumps present on his skin the moment you call his name, it’s the first time you’ve ever called him with such delicacy and he almost melts.

“Right, can you get the first aid kit? Some sore loser from the other team came at him after the game,” your brother replies instead of him. And Heeseung quietly thanks Jay for being the blabber mouth that he is, because there is no way Heeseung could coherently form sentences in front of you.

He thinks you look the best today out of all days, hair messy and your brother’s extra jersey engulfing you — it makes it easier to imagine his jersey on you, his name, and a big 01 plastered behind because you were the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Eyes glued on you as you run into the bathroom, hurriedly looking for the first aid kit. “Jay,” you call, opening the cupboards only to find the kit placed unusually high up the shelves, “can you help me?”

Even from the bathroom, you can hear Jay let out a loud groan before shuffling started and footsteps grew louder as he approached the bathroom. “I can’t reach it,” you tell him, eyes focused on the kit just inches away from your reach.

“Don’t move, doll. I’ll get it for you,” and you freeze as you feel Heeseung’s chest press against your back, soft deep voice encasing your heart as he leans over you to grab the first aid kit with ease. “You’ll help me, right doll?”

You turn around, eyes towards the ground as you nod. You never once deemed yourself a shy person, but it seemed like your brother’s best friend managed to turn your stomach into a butterfly garden just by a single word and action.

Heeseung situates himself at the edge of the bathtub as he gestures you over, “don’t be shy, you weren’t when we were in the living room,” he grins with a quiet laugh, “could feel your stares from miles away.”

Heeseung, however, wasn’t really in a position to say that, because he himself felt nervous around you and he stared, he always did when you were within vicinity. Hell, he probably stared at you longer than you’ve stared at him. And you call him out just for that, “you were staring too, Hee.” You pause, a slight pout evident on your lips, “and I’m not shy.”

It’s that nickname again, the one that brings him to his knees. And he can point out every single detail that makes the way that his name rolled off your tongue different from the others. It was the gracefulness, how you made his name sound right, and it was just, you — Heeseung thinks that every word you say sounded like heaven.

“You’re too pretty not to stare at,” Heeseung says, a small smirk on his face as he watches you blush for the third time, “you think I’m too handsome not to be stared at, doll?” And you think that only Lee Heeseung could make such a narcissistic comment sound so flirty as he stares up at you with slight arrogance.

You scoff, yet the everlasting redness of your cheeks give him the answer he’d been looking for. The cotton bud in your hand steady as you stand between Heeseung’s long legs, eyes focused on the cut on his lips, trying your best not to get overly flustered by how plump and soft looking they are.

Heeseung winces slightly at the sting as the cotton bud brushes against the cut yet his eyes remain unwavering, fixed on the way your eyebrows furrowed and your nose scrunched in concentration.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you see his jaw clench and release, “I’ll be more careful, Hee.” He hums and you move in closer to analyse the cut, hands shaking slightly as you try your best not to press too hard. “There,” you whisper more so to yourself with a tinge of pride, unknowing of the small distance between your face and Heeseung’s.

Trying to calm his ragged breathing and palpitating heart, Heeseung sucks in a small breath and his eyes move from your eyes to your lips. He’s always been one who had immense self control, especially when it came to you — you were his best friend’s little sister after all, someone who was seemingly out of the question no matter what the scenario was.

And if it was almost impossible to control himself when you were metres away, it was impossible to control himself now when you’re just mere centimetres away from him. Heeseung tries to rationalise, it’s not like Jay ever gave him the sacred ‘talk’ about not doing anything to you — maybe it was because Jay trusted Heeseung, but either way, no talk meant a green light, right?

It takes you a few seconds to realise how close you were to Heeseung and you almost lose yourself at the way he looked at you. To you, it was like a fairytale come to life, especially when all you did ever since he walked into your living room three years ago was stare from afar.

But it’s real, he’s here, and you find yourself moving closer only to stop yourself. He’s Jay’s best friend, and you’d be caught dead if Jay ever saw you in this position with him, especially when he was only a few rooms away.

The small action makes Heeseung throw in the white towel, and he doesn’t think he can control himself for any longer — not when you’re right in front of him, looking like the prettiest person he’s ever seen in his life, a surreal figure from a dream.

“Can I, doll?” Hush whispers as his tongue darts across his lips, and you find yourself losing all train of thoughts in the presence of him. “Yes, Hee,” you answer and he doesn’t waste a single second to kiss you.

It’s feverish, the feeling of his lips moulded against yours. And seconds hadn’t even passed, yet you think that you’d give anything just to kiss him again. The previous swarm of butterflies have made their nest in your stomach as his hand grips your hips. You think this is what blissfulness feels like.

Even after the kiss breaks, his hands stay on your hips, thumbs caressing it as he stares at you. Heeseung thinks life’s unfair — and it is, when the only girl he’s ever been interested in is his best friend’s younger sister. And if he wasn’t certain before, Heeseung thinks he’s ready to risk it all now, even if he were to get knocked out by your brother’s punches.

© SJYUNS

[elbdot]

NOW for a VERY unusual set of Fakemon, I present you Grananty and the predatory line of Eeriedescent - based on a real butterfly species and its unusual life cycle:

The Large Blue (Phengaris arion)

It's worth reading through all the Pokedex Entries one by one for this! And then go check out this video fully illustrating the life of one of Britains rarest butterflies :D

While I fully embrace the dark undertones of the Large Blue with its carnivorous caterpillar in my Fakemon designs, it's worth noting that this is in fact one of my favorite butterfly species for requiring SO many unique factors and circumstances to succeed in its evolution and I don't mean to demonize it!

Parasitic species the like are an important factor in keeping an ecosystem balanced and stable by preventing overpopulation of certain other species, so please don't grow resentful towards the Large Blue, but rather embrace the unusual butterfly for the macabre yet fascinating role it plays in nature :D

If you want to support my work, you can check out my Patreon!

[swallowtail-lotus]

Sweet & Sour {Buddha x Kanae!Reader x Loki}

Repost

I know they don't like each other, but I thought this was funny at the time

~~~~~~~~

You ran down the huge corridors, excited to go see Buddha after he asked if you wanted to spend time with him. Of course you agreed, considering you got along with him so well. The thing that bothered you was how he said you couldn't say you were going to him. Just like the other times.

You slowed down, your brows turned to a frown and bug like eyes blinking in confusion. You nearly reached the destination he told you but felt a pair of hands on your shoulders.

"Little butterfly~" A voice cooed in your ear, a mischievous laugh following after. You yelped out and swung your arm, nearly hitting whoever was behind you.

"You missed again~!" Loki spoke playfully, his eyes meeting yours.

"Ah! Sorry for nearly hitting you! You've already felt my reflexes and didn't wake up for four days straight!" This was true. You have smacked Loki once, and he couldn't wake up for four days, which worried you to no end.

"I know, but that was centuries ago. Besides, I've learnt to move when you strike." Loki reassured, waving the distant memory off even if it did scare him a bit.

"So, is there something you need?" You asked politely, intertwining your hands behind your back. Loki stopped, getting lost in your unusual eyes. He admitted he thought your eyes were the most beautiful pair, seeing that they resembled a pair of insect eyes.

"Nothing much, just wanted to know where you're going since you ran away so quickly." He answered, leaning back with his hands behind his head. Your eyes widen at his answer, fearing how he'll react if you told him the truth. You know about the two gods not getting along at all and honestly, it was annoying to break those two up when they had arguments.

It was difficult to answer the God who can easily see through any lie, so you did the only thing you could think of...

You backed away from the levitating God. You turned around, taking off faster than Loki could even properly respond to your lack of answer.

"Hey! Get back here!" You continued to run, your haori and hair flowing through the wind. You looked back to see if Loki was close, not looking back to watch your surroundings. You collided with something hard but soft at the same time, hearing a steady heartbeat.

"Couldn't wait to see me, huh?" You felt your cheeks heat up and your heart did backflips as soon as Buddha's voice chimed in to fill the silence that only lasted a minute.

You got off the taller God, pulling him up with your hand.

"I'm sorry. I was just-"

"There you are! Little- oh..." Loki stopped his sentence when he saw the long hair god standing in front of you, his smile turning into a glare. Buddha just took one look at the floating God and put his attention on you.

Loki's eye twitched at the smirk on Buddha's face, reaching out to grab your wrist.

"What are you doing with this traitor?" Loki hissed out the question, his grip tightening. The strength of his grip was hurting you, but you sucked it up and sighed.

"We were just gonna spend some time together." You responded quietly, trying to get your wrist out of his grip. That answer didn't calm the God down at all. It just fueled his anger more. Buddha noticed the intense glare from the other God, deciding to mess with him.

"What, you jealous or somethin?"

Buddha teased, his hands on his hips, his smirk still present. Loki's grip on your wrist had loosened, his face flushed a slight red. You managed to take your wrist from his hand, rubbing it to soothe the pain.

"Strange. You've never done this before. Sure you scared off a few males, which I'm thankful for, but never this." You commented, looking at the two gods in pure confusion.

"....." Loki didn't say a word, which was starting to scare you. Buddha calmed down, his hand patting your shoulder.

"Let's leave this idiot." He said, turning around to leave. You saw the blush fade from his face, feeling relieved he didn't suddenly catch a fever. You reluctantly followed Buddha, leaving Loki in his place.

"Want one?" Buddha asked, holding out a spare lollipop to you while the other was already in his mouth. You grabbed it from him, opening it up and put it in your mouth.

It wasn't rare for the candy loving God to offer you some of his snacks when you were with him.

"Thanks." Your reply was muffled by the lollipop in your mouth. Buddha found your muffled words amusing, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips. While you were too occupied with the delicious taste of the lollipop, Buddha took the time to admire you.

Your eyes were sparkling as usual, but there was more in them now that you're happy. Your butterfly hairpins suited your perfectly, fitting for someone like you. But that wasn't what got his attention first.

It was your personality. He respects your love for the humans. If you dared to turn against the gods, he'll gladly stand by you.

While you were savouring the lollipop, you felt it get pulled out and the feeling of someone's lips on yours. Your eyes shot open, meeting none other than Loki, who seemed to have snapped out of whatever trance he was in and teleported near you.

With Loki, he was enjoying every second of it. One, because it was fun to piss off Buddha. Two, the lollipop made your lips taste sweeter.

You immediately started to push on Loki's chest and succeeded when Loki pulled away.

"What the-"

"See you later, Little Butterfly~" Loki cooed, teleporting away from the two of you. You stared into space, the lollipop now in your hands. Buddha rolled his eyes and leaned down, wiping your lips with his thumb.

"What- when-" You were at a loss for words, trying to process what happened a few seconds ago.

"That damned bastard."

Buddha mumbled, rubbing your lollipop on your lips to get the taste on them. Your face heated up from the closeness between you two.

"Guess I'm gonna try harder to steal your heart, huh?"

[cutieeva]

Snow and Rose

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 Female reader

Warnings : Murders. Violence.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

❛ 愛 ❜

He was filthy. Made to be discard and dislike and disgust hence the reason he even did not dare utter the pure words of love to the one he grew to not dislike however it all changed when he saved a woman. An peculiar one with taste of adressing herself as a snow and him, a disfigured man—rose

It was the first night of the winter. Crimson petal of rose slowly fell atop of the untainted white snow. To be honest the blush fall on the snow looked breathtaking. So beautifully vast yet together by nature almost seem like the destiny also choose in the harshest winter will bear the most adored rose to be seen.

The first time she saw them, it was unsuited together yet now if this was her last image of the world's beauty before withering away. She is thankful enough, smiling under the cold whiteness where she lay, drenched in her blood surround her and pain numb little by little. Now that her vision fading she wish to indulged the nature of destiny more. She wish to find her own rose in the snow, a lover she meant and perhaps children too. ? How odd of her to even question of her own wish to bear children when she knows no rose is there for her.

As the roses always wirther, unsuited to the snow like she thought, no one likes snow. Even those who believed to like only do for few weeks, months not years, certainly not decades.

Snow as beautiful is cold, far cold she realize after embracing in the ground, blush of her skin drying and tears gather to flow silently.

How she wished to see the sunrise for the last time. One last time before passing to void of nothing, she knew heaven and hell were only words for fear to do good despite being surround by hell. One last tear roll down as she embrace the death when a crunch of foot earned her sight.

Eyes rolling to see the demon, the culprit of her death towering surprise to feel the drop of crimson. Not one from the rose petal rather of blood along stench of someone's death coloring the sliver sword he holds. He who is not the demon her mind knows at least, however an stranger wrapped in black cloth like the void of night and white cloth wrap around his mouth with snake rest upon his neck. His eyes, Unusual she ever seen one teal and another yellow.

His gaze bore at her, laying on the snow and blood circle around her like an painting of death with petals of rose fallen near her forehead almost seem like an crown of farewell flowers. She looks utterly and hauntingly beautiful he is afraid to say the rose suit her with the snow. Even her tears of sorrow paint her beautiful. His eyes locked on those (E/C) eyes that he forgot it's close and pale hue cover her entirity.

Like a bleak of a man his knee bend down, fingers almost curl refuse to taint the body by brushing his filthy touch yet with gentle he never grace one with did he hold her, cold sweep into his warmth and her body in his hand vulnerably he embrace her clothed part more to begin walking the path of his home where many also lives.

Pain greet her awake, her sight met with the white ceiling of a house than the void of nothing she expected. The pain in her body told her the answer of her life. She is alive and the beautiful nature of rose met snow was not her last image of mother earth's beauty nor the man she viewed.

The man in question is none where to seen when the door slide open stand a beautiful woman, smiling gently. "She must like butterfly". (Y/N) judged from the hair pin of butterfly to her dress print.

"Ara, Ara, you are awake. I see". (Y/N) bow to the woman despite the pain in her stomach yet her face remain unchanged. Stoic as before. "Do not distress yourself further. I fear your present state is one of considerable pain." The woman came closer to find indeed the blood taint the white again.

(Y/N) apologize softly.

"No apologies necessary, I assure you." Her laugh was melodies that the man almost slip her mind.

"Oh. A man, with snake around his neck ?" She continue, her eyes as if reliving the time. "Have you seen him ?" The actions of that woman's hand pause and staring at those purple eyes oddly seem empty and lost.

"I do. He is one of the demon slayers". Strange words. Demon slayers and demons. Both belonged to monstrous fairytales she never liked to read and now very real to see, one was eater almost pushed her to the edge of life and another an savior, retrieve her life yet both interwoven with one another.

"Oh. Would you be so kind as to inform me of his whereabouts, that I may pay my respects ?" The woman stare at (Y/N). No human she ever seen so indifferent to the word demon. One must bear some hatred or kindness or any emotions linked. Never indifference. Perhaps the lack is what present her so different however naïve to the laws of world.

"You may, he will be found next door, precisely where the wounded gentlemen resides." Her finger point to near the door of (Y/N)'s right and she nod.

"Thank you". She stood to the woman's surprise and walk with difficulty to the next door, sliding open to find three young lads on the bed with another beautiful woman with pink hair and that man. That man's soften gaze saw her bend her body to bow and utter the words she truly felt from the core of her heart.

"Thank you for saving me" . The tone and the face remained unchanged however those eyes he notice was pure, clearance with courage Obanai swears. Courage he won't be rewarded, not with the blood in his veins.

"It was my duty". He replied, turning away from her and she left quietly. All were too suprise to intervene the tight tension darting from the unknown to the cold demon slayer. He who thought their first words exchange to be the last.

However here she is, sitting beside Tanjiro, applying herbs like the gentle caress of a mother to his wounds he receive from Obanai during their period of training. A furrow appear in his brows, why is she here ? His eyes slide to the stomach cover by her cloth and by movements of her body she appears to be healthy.

Soon he learnt after she recovered did she request to dedicate herself to nursing she was by experience and Shindou welcomed her. What a play of destiny he thought watching intently how with unchanged poise she clean one gruesome wound than previous.

"How calm". He wonders, how can a woman be so devoid of expression ? Even Shinobu plaster a smile and here she is, and was at her last breath crafted the same expression.

"I offer my sincerest gratitude, your expertise is truly remarkable." Tanjior in his cherry voice smiled large and she returned only with a nod. He narrow his eyes, was she also poise in front of the culprit of her death ? Or did she cried, begged or perhaps— .

"The gentleman is cleared to depart." Her words directly to the older demon slayer and he nod, averting gaze with someone first because of how unashamed they were. He took him alongside and wish to never view her.

What a foolish thing to pray when she is at his each sight. One time brooming with the little girls despite them playing, laughing and joining her hands to round each other she only played along unchanged as if her soul was not present while her body was.

Another time dusting and cleaning the injury manor and he was there, yet not once she glanced or tries to word with him. Not that he desired so rather finding her like an puzzle. So locked unlike Mitsuri who is like the sun, bright and bathed in pureness and free like an open book he can read. Even that butterfly demon slayer seem easier to understand than she. A lady with unfamiliar origin, name he didn't care to learn and expression never change.

Upon another occasion, a youthful trainee, gravely injured, was brought forth, his face snarl in pain and half his form scorched by the ravages of fire yet she didn't so little flinch. She beheld the charred flesh, and with unflinching resolve, set about healing the wounds. It made him wonder again would she grasp, be horrified or pity the demon slayer if she shown her the scar in his— shaking such filthy words, he walked down that time.

"(Y/N) hurry, the Serpent Hashira and the Wind Hashira needs help !" She pause in her hurried steps. Her savior was in need and the thought to return the debt come to her mind. Her feet went to the room watching the two strongest demon slayers swallowing pain as they lay on the bed. "One of the demons poisoned them so the little wounds are deadly".

Her trembling hands took the medicines and herbs, as being advised she about to touch the Serpent Hashira, he wield his sharp sword to her chin, little inches away and his snake hiss. "Don't come near me". His words tender yet the sentences chilling sharp and she can not help ponder why.

"What ? we don't have male—".

"Let me do my own". He cut the argue he finds not needed.

"However you have no knowle—". Kanao tries to change his mind for good.

"I can!" he asserted, the crimson-tinted the binding around his mouth and voice bending into whisper with his pale skin whiter. (Y/N) is afraid the poison rushing faster.

"By all means, proceed. But heed my caution: observe my movements, then replicate, lest harm ensues. Do you understood ?" Obanai who never thought her to spoke nod and took the medicines and clothes. (Y/N) note the wounds are in his arm, thigh and shoulder thus she walk beside him to another silent room—she assume his room and sat, turning face away to hear the shuffles of clothes unraveling and she begin to show on her clothed body while he remain silent, save for the occasionally groans and strainted huffs.

"Completed". She nod and he finally turn his eyes at her back, wondering why she is unmoved.

"May I see your work, that I might judge its merit ?" She hoped to have yes however deep inside the answer was spoken in silent already.

"No". No. As she expected and nod to maneuver towards his clothed self and about to stand at her feet when Obanai narrow his eyes in displease. That expression and lack of words. Always of few words, indifference and unafraid. All of the qualities he wished he had within himself. Indifference of other's eyes, unafraid of the past and courageous.

Implused by his deranged thoughts and in daze of his wound. "Would you be scared of this ?" Uncaring he rip the binding of his mouth, the cool breeze brush against the dreadful scar that is still fresh in his memory. His eyes close like the binding was a relieve of pain however he waited. For a strangling scream, disgust grasp, pity words or anything. Save for the errie silence.

Each muscle of his body tense at the feel of an soft touch at the corner of his lips and his hand shoot up holding her wrist and eyes wide to be face at her expression. And indeed it was not in vain.

Alas, the rosy flush that painted her entire visage, and the demure shimmer in those crystalline eyes, told a tale he had not expected to behold. Even her skin blushed from his touch alone.

A hatred twist his inside as he swing her hand and yelled harsh. "Get out !" She flinch and run out. His head buried in his palm, he did not intent to yell, however what could he had done if that bewitching woman's expression did not just brew a hope in his heart. A hope no one did and he himself dare not aknowledge.

"What was that ?" Bewildered he erased her image of blush.

He must have frighten her because the few days later she was none of his sight and it was unknown how he felt so he walked to his room when the moon's shine lighten on the letter slide to the gap of the door. His finger touch the paper and read. 'To the respected Serpent Hashira. From (L/N) (Y/N).'

An name he is unfamiliar could only belonged to that woman. "(Y/N)". The name roll down his flesh, sounding hauntingly pleasant. He grip the paper hard and went inside. First he sit and grab the candle near the paper he almost wish to burn, not read any words behind the paper. Still his curiosity drive him to open and unfold the smooth lines of paper.

'You might have forgetten what had occur to the day of your injury yet I do not and thus the letter was crafted, whether view it as an unworthful letter or cowardly one, it's your choice however I won't delay your time and say the words I had not courage to utter in front of you that the scar you showed me was in my view an scar of loathe, pain and sorrow of the past because the way it's craved could not be done willingly—' Obanai turn away from the paper, unwelcomed memories slit his mind and fill his vision.

"Useless". He deemed the paper and the fire of the candle so close however something, perhaps hope convince him to read further.

"My intention was not to recall your unpleasant memories however I had to because the next words I say might desire you to kill me even hate me I fear, because your wound blossoms red like the petals of rose, breathtakingly beautiful, so beautiful that I was mesmerized. I am wretched for holding dear and falling in love with the sorrow you might have, the very thing I am in love is the one you hate, so please it's not a letter of forgiveness because do not forgive me. Do not forgive me ever".

His hand fell limp as fingers still grip on the paper become tighter than ever and the candle's light illuminate his fiery blush face and the glistening rims of his eyes betrayed a depth of feeling he could hardly grasp.

"Is it not a confession ?" His other palm cover his face and brush upon the binding that for the first time did not evoke feelings of revulsion and disgust rather sentiments he had not felt for anyone, not even the love Hashira. Because the unpleasant memories dissipated the moment his scar made contact, replaced by her passion words, which floated in his vision like ethereal whispers. 

At the early rise of the sun Obanai ran to the butterfly manor to find her not Kanon who raise a eyebrow and continue her duty.

"Might I inquire as to the present location of Miss (L/N) ?" His question made her confuse before sighing.

"Good heavens! You haven't heard ? She resigned, having met my elder sister in person and left a letter for us all, though, alas, it reveals nothing of her destination." Her voice somber reflections on the departure of the benevolent lady, whom she had not had the opportunity to bid farewell, a circumstance that pained her, much like her sister.

The words save for the resigned tune out. The sounds distant and dishonest. H-how could it ? How could it be ? When she confessed her love merely yesterday ? "The letter ? May I see it ?" She hand over the paper he unfold to read and yes, it's her farewell for eternal. How cruel, she left. He almost threw the paper in fit of rage but he knew better and did not.

She is one cowardly woman he ever met.

☯

A red rose.

The first single rose appear at (Y/N)'s doorstep was few weeks later she moved from the demon slayer's corps to a small village little further from the branch and the house she stay was bearable and decent food was nearby to attend. The real reason she left was due to the passion confession her heart forced her hand to give however when she comes to realize the man she was giving and his profession was, she decide to separate herself.

Because the man would never love her back and his profession was oath to death, no sense of life was guaranteed and she swears the heartbreak of future could not stitch the patchs of broken heart.

From childhood she watched her mother obedient like a pet to her father and never replied back and his father always remained gentleman and cold. Very different than the fairytales she dislike yet reads for the sake of befriending others.

Soon growing up she realize because of the unspoken law of marriage. A wife is a doll of his husband who married for the sake of duty. They were not in love instead tied down in duty where she, the child was a bond they had to create by society's pressure and sheding her innocence to adulthood, it's her time to take the role of doll for someone else.

And at first few men did choose her, some even confess their love but after few months they left, giving the ring of their betrothed away.

"Your demeanor is as frigid as the grave. How might I be expected to harbor affection for one so seemingly devoid of vitality?"

"(Y/N), I must confess, it pains me to consider the possibility that you do not return my ardent affections. Your demeanor suggests a certain...indifference towards me."

"Miss (L/N), though I have always held your beauty in the highest esteem and affection however our spent time leads my heart yearns for a deeper connection. I confess, I covet a love that stems from genuine attachment, not mere obligation."

"If your heart truly beats for mine, then demonstrate your affection through tender compassion ! Speak words of endearment, that I might be assured of your love !"

Some were good, some were spoiled and some greedy yet what common in them was their speech of words of how cold she is and like snow she is beautifully admired—not loved. To be honest she hated all the men that left her, even if some were really good she loathe them. Why ? Because none tried to know the dept of her love for them because she did love them, each and every one of them. Yes ! not as deep as the love of Zhi Nü for Niu Lang. Still she did, what she couldn't was to express them. She simply does not know. Words were not easy to utter as she wanted and affections never surface properly.

Also their love was not worth if they left so easily leading her to become spinster and out of roof as for her family's reputation she was a staint so she left, no cries, pleads or any attachment. What prevails her is that quiet tears still roll down.

Leading her at the first night to encounter a hungry demon and that man, she for and realize after viewing his scar. He awoke a whole world inside her she was hidden from and now she can not help wonder if she had known him better could she bear courage to court him.

Red rose on top of the snow. Her sight snap to the ruby hue and turn to the vase inside the house already had seven more red rose rest. Adding this will be seven. It's strange no one comes to mind who would give her flowers like a secret admirer. Like confessing secret love to her.

With steps that softly crunched above the winter's white blanket, she approached the flower, its beauty unmarred by frost's chill grasp. Her fingers enveloped its slender stem free of thorns. The rose errierly remind her of him. His beauty of an rose and sharp gaze of thorn to protect. Perhaps thus she collect the roses.

☯

Slap !

Embracing her new role as a cleaning worker in the village proved daunting for her. As both a woman and alone seen beneath of men after all.

"Your defiance has cost us dearly. You should have layed your body at the customer's whims equals to a king's demands, were left unfulfilled. Your stubbornness has turned gold to dust. You ungrateful witch !" The pain at her cheek throb and she lowered her head, choosing silence, closing eyes to feel the next and next until the wife of the owner hold his hand.

"Oh dearie, this is a noodle shop. Not a brothel, what she had done is right because imagine rumors spreading of our humble restaurant turning into selling women. How bad is it not ?" His wife in tender voice trap him in sprouts of nonsense and he, halting and debating the words.

(Y/N) gratitude the lady in mind and caught sign of her hand twisting towards exit. "Go out". With eyes darting in secretion (Y/N) bow to her and quietly walked away from the unfair abuse and her night shift.

☯

Chirps of bird and noise of hens awake her and ignoring the ache in her cheeks she walk to the door and her eyes wide and mind in confusion.

She blink once, twice and slowly, very slowly walk on the snow to the center where a folded man's cloth is layed above blood with a rose on the side. The eighth rose. Her (E/C) eyes stare at the cloth for moments before walking to the noodle owner's house that is few walks away and not long a cry of agony rip out.

Her walk slow down and she watched the crowd form and the wife's cries in her corpse husband's body that is naked and blood sweeping from the stabs in his stomach and dried blood from the hole of his either cheeks. Pity bleed within (Y/N) for the newly widow— not the man. He deserved it and a happiness bloom thinking how length of love her secret admirer bear.

She went to her yard again and the cloth vanish and blood buried leaving the rose and a letter. "Was he here ?" A shiver ran her spine, glancing around to spot only to be failed and she read the letter.

'I am not good with words however what I am good is at welding swords and that man deserve equally as the demon heads' Demons. Holding the rose at one and letter at another, finally one man comes to her mind. The serpent demon slayer.

And she is unaware what to do and if her thought is even true.

☯

"Leave me !" (Y/N) yelled to the previous customer of the noodle shop who she was beated for and now tormenting her at night of street. "I said leave me !" She screamed attracting heads of the crowd letting the man loose his grip and her chance to escape.

Ninth rose lay beside the cloth of a man painted in blood. She walked out of her yard at the early morning and roam to find his body calmly and the crowd forming told her already. She close the gap, catching glimpse of his naked body layed to be humiliated and stabs in his stomach and holes on his palms where the man grip her by.

And as she expected when she return to her yard, the cloth was erased, blood buried and rose with letter repeating the same words.

☯

"It must be you ! You wretched woman, you got my husband killed ! After being bewitched by you, was he killed ! It must be you". The wife of the man yesterday murdered she was not even aware married came to her doorstep at midnight, screaming and throwing scornful words she does not like.

"I do not, mam". Calmly and unchanged she answered, attempt at closing the door she mistake to open and when the wife caught hint of that, (Y/N) felt a rush of coldness at her face. Numb snow cold her warm body as (Y/N) part her lips to say she was thrown more snow and more and more.

Until a wet slick sound and sudden stop of snow lead her head to turn meeting the scene of a sliver sword pierced the wife's stomach and glide back gushing blood and her body limp at once revealing Obanai, the serpent hashira standing with a blank expression and when met with (Y/N)'s, did it sparkle the beauty of emotions.

Her eyes also saw in his another hand holding the rose. Tenth rose. "At the tenth rose I decided to finally meet you". Loudly he confessed. Both to being the secret admirer and the murderer however not a hint of fear he felt not because he considerate himself powerful rather at the mercy of her love. While he thought he loved the love Hashira, (Y/N) mold the very love to him. While the love hashira was the shining sun, pure and out of his reach stem from pure respect, (Y/N) plant the seed of love from the mere words of his scar he loathe, she turn the hatred and self-disgust of the scar marred his skin into a memory of their sweet love. With the words of her and blushful image of her touched his corner lips brew him the feel of worthy to loved and love. She made him feel human.

Now at each touch of his mouth, rather than ashamed and scared did his heart skip beats at her face, at each touch of his mouth reminds him of her words. The confession of her yearning and passion he never received from one before and she graced him so deep, he could not help fall deeper, running to every village from small to huge at search of her and when found the relieve of bliss remind him once again how unable of her he has no life of his own anymore.

"Forgive me, Miss (L/N). I could not force you to my will defying yours so all I could do was remove the obstacles and wait for your return to me as I have fallen for you deeply". At each step closer to her he said each word and finishing he give her the rose, waiting to see her accepting or throwing.

Fear gripped his heart to be honest a little— no, a lot, the fear of rejection from the woman he holds dearly to his heart will crush him however he will wait, as long as needed and continue removing the filth from her life. Flith that forced his hand and deserved to be united with the demons.

Oh, how sweet. (Y/N) couldn't believe. A man who go length beyond for her and love her to the end without leaving is an heaven. Even more when it's the same man she did not even dare dream of loving her back holding rose for her and bloody sword to others.

How could she resist such love. An love scary and undeserving at other's view is her everything.

Her finger grasp the rose and lean forward to press a kiss the man above his binding who's those unusual beautiful eyes wide only to soften. Her lips parted and said. "Forgive me not I am in love with you".

"Forgiven because I am in too". He returned blooming a smile on her lips. Language of love she heard once, love that not only utter from words alone however also from actions of service for their love. Perhaps this man has that.

FIN

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐟 ◸◜𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 ◞◿

[noisycowboyglitter]

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Perfect for nature enthusiasts or anyone who treasures inspiring symbols, these thoughtful gifts make lasting impressions, embodying the beauty and magic of butterflies in every thoughtful design.

[yois2aki]

੭୧ chishiya with a reader who likes gift giving... . ۫

chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader (requested)

— warnings: fluff, ooc chishiya, beach arc, love confession, shy chishiya ohhh....

— summary: your gift giving and weird fact telling habit seemed to catch chishiya's attention. that was until it got too much to him.

— word count: 1.3k

people could tell you had a habit of collecting things that caught your interest in the most random occurrences. the motive had never been elucidated, as you wouldn't mind the others staring.

coming home from games tired and exhausted was part of your weekly routine. sometimes, you would refuse to take the car back to the beach just to breathe some air and later walk back by yourself.

it was unusual for you to come back empty-handed. during your time in the borderlands, you found out that gift giving was a pretty easy way for you to show your affection towards others. and even though sometimes you'd look at a pretty rock and mention it to kuina, or tell mira a random fact you heard about some time back in the real world, nothing compared to the surprises you'd prepare, chishiya.

you have noticed, way before even getting close to him, that he does not seem to get fazed by anything. if he complimented you, that'd be a reason for your sleep to be slightly better than the other nights.

knowing that about him, you made it your daily goal to try and steal a reaction from him. from the littlest things, like telling him all about how you learned that cheetahs don't roar but instead meow and purr. to more thoughtful stuff, like gifting him a personally handmade butterfly origami you spent an hour trying to figure out.

chishiya didn't understand the point of all this effort you took to catch him by surprise. why you were so devoted to making him seem happier. he had lost interest in life a long time ago. so why did he look forward to your every day's information?

"it's for you," you said, handing him a roughly made bouquet of red, white, and yellow flowers you plucked from a garden. "i don't have a place to keep them, and you seem like a much more responsible person for treating flowers."

chishiya knew that wasn't the real reasoning behind it, since your little presents and surprises every day had already become something he expected. he took the poorly made bouquet in his hands, which didn't really look like a bouquet, just a bunch of flowers gathered around.

he kept his eyes on them for a while, almost becoming philosophical from looking at them. he seemed to recognize this kind of plant; however, his memory betrayed him.

"these flowers are called chrysanthemus," you started, biting your lip in apprehension, in case he thought the idea of gifting him a bouquet was stupid. "or simply mums, or chrysanths."

chishiya didn't really know what to say. every single gift you had given him so far were simple things he found amusing but didn't pay much attention to. however, for some reason, being gifted a bouquet seemed to make his heart throb a little faster. he couldn't help but imagine the scenario in his head. you, contently plucking the flowers out of their natural spot and wrapping them together, thinking of him while doing so.

if he were with you at that moment, he probably wouldn't have minded it as much as he does now. instead complaining about the fact you're disturbing the eco system and urging you to leave the plants be. but he couldn't bring himself to be upset with you right now, not while you were so shyly giving him a bouquet of flowers.

"did you know these are native to east asia?" you commented, and he started listening intently. "however, the center of diversity is in china. i was quite lucky to find them."

chishiya felt like he should say something. perhaps a snarky remark on how you really gave yourself the need to study flowers well enough to recognize them, or maybe a lighter response like a simple thank you and a smile. but no coherent sentences could be formed in his mind, let alone out of his mouth.

at this point, he felt like even the flowers were judging him, given how silent the whole room felt. chishiya knew of the habit of giving others plants, obviously, but he had never even been on the giving end. how was he supposed to react to the receiving one?

it's necessary to mention that he also felt foolish. normally, it's the more serious person on both ends that gives the bouquet, as a way to show their appreciation towards the other if the physical touch or the words of affirmation are too tough. not the other way around.

"i also heard that the white variant of this species means truth, the yellow one means slighted love, and the red one means—" you suddenly stopped your words, your eyes opening like you had just seen a ghost, your line of thinking interrupting itself without your demanding.

"chishiya," you couldn't help but stand still, trying to make sure what you were seeing was true. the rosy tint present on his cheeks is getting more perceptible by the second. "are you blushing?"

he could only turn his head to the side in an attempt to avoid your attention. if he had the ability to sense others's feelings, he would be certain of the biggest smile on your face without even looking. this was definitely the largest process you had made so far, ever since you started this habit of yours. pride filled your chest as you finally realized you were the one capable of teasing him and getting revenge for all the times he made you feel like an idiot.

"why are you so shy?" you asked with a present smirk on your face. your voice alone was a sign you were smiling, not going easy on the teasing. "it's just flowers; have you never been given some?"

"shut up." chishiya managed to mumble out, seemingly not caring about whether you heard it or not.

he turned around, still with the flowers in hand, standing in an awkward position as he tried to remember who he even was and what he was doing here. he suddenly stared at an empty jar on his desk, his movements returning to usual as he seemed to have calmed down a bit, away from your gaze.

"hey!" you scurried after him, the smile unable to leave your face as your mind repeated the image of chishiya shuntaro speechless for once. "i wasn't done; don't run away!"

he ignored your protests, grabbing the handle with strength and almost kicking the bathroom door open, seemingly using anger to cope with the embarrassment he just presented you with. you could only imagine what was going on inside his mind. probably a ton of insulting words running towards him for looking like an idiot once in his life.

he filled the jar with water to a certain point, shoving the flowers inside it, and left the bathroom as he threw the item back on his desk.

"there you go," he began. back to that sharp tone of voice he normally uses, he still refused to turn around and look at you. "your plants are safe and sound."

"you still shouldn't have plucked them out of a garden." he sourly informed. you wondered if he was trying to save the littlest bit of dignity he had left on his soul; unfortunately, you were feeling quite mean that night.

"they were so pretty, though!" you whined out, your hands sitting at your hips. "oh, by the way..."

"the red variant of the chrysanths means i love you." you said with that devious voice again. the only thing that changed in chishiya's posture was the red tint of the flowers, now matching the color present on the tips of his ears.

— n/a: KANDKSJFKEJFNSJDN THIS WAS SO CUTEEEE!! i love writing shy chishiya or stupid chishiya in love he's such a loser....... (i say about a man who's 13 times smarter than me) :cc it's quite sad i have to get a bit outside his character to make it better but i still loved writing this. i hope you guys like it as much!!!

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant + Professor Kink/AU: (prompt list here)

- Steven Grant thought there was no greater joy or honour in teaching young minds about ancient Egyptian history, and then he started teaching you.

- He had seen flocks of enthusiastic young people come and go from his halls over the last few years of teaching, and sure he'd had a few favourites here and there, but nothing compared to the first time his eyes locked on yours from behind his lectern. It was embarrassing how quickly he tripped up his speech as his eyes lingered on yours, unable to look away from the unique sparkle that flickered so clearly in them. He tried to remember where he got to in his introduction, blush rushing up his cheeks as his heart sped up far more than his usual presenting nerves, and when he watched you smile at the way he fumbled through his first attempt at a joke he started to think maybe this is what love at first sight must feel like.

- When you found him after class and asked one of the most creative questions he'd ever heard from a student in his years of teaching he couldn't quite believe how exhilarating it was to talk to you, butterflies stirring up inside him as if he'd made an instant old friend. He bit back his tongue as the thought of asking you to continue this conversation over dinner crossed his mind, trying to remind himself of his position as your professor despite how easy it was to view you as his true equal.

- You had been feeling more than a little frustrated that you had to take at least one history module as part of your studies, but at least Ancient Egypt had been your favourite time period when you were learning history in school. And when you noticed your adorably handsome professor stumble over his words with a sly smile when he caught your eye, you were pretty sure you'd never miss a lecture again.

- You'd find reasons to talk to him after class or during his office hours, and he'd send you articles or podcasts he thought you'd find interesting, telling you to call him any time to discuss your thoughts. He wanted to pretend that the power imbalance wasn't any part of his blatant attraction to you, but he couldn't ignore the way his pulse raced every time you called him professor. And finally as the spring turned to summer and you started wearing your favourite short dresses to his class, watching the way your legs would float down the stairs as you found a seat about halfway back, he knew he wasn't going to be able to wait until you graduated before he finally told you how he felt.

- It wasn't unusual for him to ask you to come to his office out of hours, usually just for an academic discussion over a cup of tea that inevitably turned to the two of you sharing more and more personal stories. But on this day you were greeted by a glass of wine and a bouquet of roses, rather than an academic text. He looked almost pale as he stumbled through the sweet confession that he had never felt like this before, and even though he knew it was improper, he couldn't bring himself to wait another minute to tell you how he felt.

- As he stares at you with the most hopeful eyes, you'd lunge forwards, wrapping your arms around his neck before landing your lips on his, finally giving him the sweetest relief of knowing how it feels to kiss you. He'd be so gentlemanly that first night, insisting he takes you on a real date so he can prove this isn't just a torrid love affair to him. You'd reluctantly agree to wait a little longer to rip his clothes off, surprised by the nervous giggle he'd let out in response, grabbing his keys so he can take you somewhere far enough away that you won't see anyone else from the university.

- A discussion over drinks with your fingers intertwined would feel more natural and comfortable than any interaction sweet Steven had ever had, as when you whisper in his ear that your ready for 'his private office hours, Professor' he'd be on his feet so quickly you'd have to stop him for tumbling over himself.

- That night, and every moment after, his office becomes his favourite place to be close to you. He takes so much joy in bending you over his desk and flipping up the skirt he's spent all lecture admiring. He makes sure to sink to his knees and run his tongue over your slit until he can feel your arousal dripping down his chin, wanting to treat you the way only an older man will, a tinge of insecurity running through him when he sees you talk to any of the idiot boys your own age around campus. When he starts slamming into you from behind he'll insist you call him professor, a swift palm slapping your ass if his first name leaves your lips. Sometimes he'll have you sit straddling his lap in his expensive leather armchair, instructing you to ride his thigh until he can see a glistening trail forming across his corduroy slacks, feeling both powerful and completely under your control.

- As much as he pretends there isn't something so fucking hot about being in a position of authority over you, when you come into his office asking for extra credit, you can guarantee he won't exactly have you writing an essay for him. Instead he'll take something else he wants from you, tossing all the papers off his desk and lifting you onto it, pulling off your clothes deliberately slowly so he can graze you with a dozen teasing touches before he instructs you to lie back and stay still for him. Still fully dressed he slides open a desk drawer, pulling out a small vibrator you're pretty sure he stole from your dorm room.

"Given you're already a star pupil, you're going to have to be really good for me to get some extra credit love."

"I'll do anything you want, Professor." Your voice quivers as he runs a finger slowly up your inner thigh, watching your chest rise and fall in response.

"I'll give you ten percent on the assignment for everytime you come for me." Before you can negotiate the details his fingers are rubbing over your clit ever so gently, and your body seems more than ready to give him anything he asks for. It takes almost all night, the first two coming quickly as he works his fingers over your entrance, only slipping his fingers inside for number three when your legs start twitching and trembling with every slight change in his movement.

"You're doing so well, gorgeous, already 30% through your extra credit assignment. But we've still got a long way to go." You can see the mischievous glint in his eye and swallow hard, already starting to feel overwhelmed by the way he expertly manipulates your body. Soon his tongue is nestled between your legs while his fingertips tweak your nipples, the extra sensation quickly driving you to the 50% point, starting to feel a bit unsure of how much more of this your overstimulated body can take. As you try and catch your breath, coming down from your latest high, you suddenly hear the buzz of vibrations as Steven slides the small device over your slick entrance, even the softest setting feeling overwhelming when you're already so wet and sensitive. You feel Steven start using his considerable strength to keep your hips pressed firmly against his desk, no respite or escape as the pressure inside you starts to climb again. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you start think there's no way you can come again, and you whimper out his name so softly you almost don't think he hears you, until you feel the intensity between your legs shift up a gear, making your whole body spasm in blissful agony.

"Now now, good girls don't call their professors by their first name. You're going to have to be more careful or I'll have to start counting again from zero." You can tell from his grin that he'd do it, finding unparalleled joy in forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you and watching you struggle to hold yourself together as you leak more and more across his desk and flinch at even the gentlest touch. You bite back your tongue as he works to make you cum twice more, finally pleading with him to give you a break, to let you take 80% on the assignment.

"Come on sweetheart, you're so close to full marks, I know you can give me just a couple more. You're doing so well for me. I just want to feel how good I've made you feel." You hear him unbuckle his belt as he coos softly at you, waiting for you to tentatively nod your head before his whole body is onto top of you, keeping you exactly where he wants you as slams into you with no mercy until finally you give him everything he wants and more.

- Luckily you have a chance to get him back a couple of weeks later, when your makeout session gets cut short by another student coming in to ask a genuine question. Steven doesn't think twice about the way you hide under his desk to give him some privacy, that is until he realises his trousers are still undone and you're planning on taking full advantage of that. He keeps his eyes trained on the student in front of him as he feels your tongue lap as his tip, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair in a desperate attempt to remain composed. He manages okay as you run your tongue over the length of him, but when you give him no warning and slide him between your lips straight to the back of your throat he has to stifle an uncontrollable groan and awkwardly blame it on a stomach ache. His hips start twitching in his seat as you suck him as hard and fast as you can without making a sound, and as you start to feel his stomach muscles tense under your touch you notice Steven shooting you a startled look whenever he thinks he can. You don't pay him any notice, choking him back and running your hands over his lap and stomach until you watch his eyes clench shut and feel the taste of him spilling over your tongue, impressed by how quickly he blames his reaction on the fact that he must be coming down with something. When finally the student leaves and you two are alone once again, Steven sinks to his knees with the biggest smile on his face, telling you 'Just how brilliant you are, even if you will absolutely be the death of him.'

- With his own student days being far more tame and isolated than he would have liked, Steven feels like he's making up for lost time in the sweetest way when he sneaks into your dorm room for the night, or finds some weak excuse to attend a student party just so he can spend the night somewhere fun with you. He'll find excuses to bring you to the events in his calendar too, saying he's making a tradition of bringing his best students to events, even if it's always just you held tight by his side in a dress he genuinely forgets how to breathe around when he first sees you.

- While he may have a huge professor kink thanks to you, and gain some thrill in sneaking around with his reputation on the line, he also can't help but daydream about a time after your graduation when the two of you won't have to sneak any more and he'll be free to walk hand in hand with you everywhere to two of you want to go.

[imfoive]

Crystal Bird - Chapter 2

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, somewhat proofread WC: 6.1k A/N: Still childhood chapter (will be over soon I promise.) Based on a dream. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1

CHAPTER 2 ─────────────────── This was something entirely new for Y/N.

For the first time, The second princess wasn’t slipping away out of curiosity about a spider spinning its web or to sample a trendy new snack she heard about at some tea party. This time, she had someone to meet, a scheduled time to exchange words with another person. She was beyond elated, carefully navigating the corridors of her residence, hoping her mother was engrossed in entertaining her circle of friends or, even better, ventured out to purchase new gowns.

They arrived earlier than agreed upon, both flustered at the sight of each other, but any awkwardness quickly dissolved as they began to converse. True to his word, Chan proudly presented his favorite dessert, something exotic and unfamiliar to Y/N, even though she was accustomed to the luxuries of palace life.

The dessert, native to Nightshade, was a revelation to her palate, and she ate every bite with genuine delight. As Chan watched her savor the sweet treat, he suddenly wondered if the children of Elysium were also warned to keep away from anything associated with Nightshade. Like he had been taught to be wary of Elysium.

    “What do you think of the Bahng Clan, Princess?” Chan asked with both anxiousness and curiosity.

Y/N looks up in wonder, wiping her fingers with her handkerchief.

    “You mean the beastly people?” She asks.

The term has Chan’s heart drop, momentarily lowering his gaze, wondering how she would react if he revealed his true identity.

    “My teacher said that they love violence and bloodshed. But I’ve read in a book that the realm is sandwiched between forest and the snowy mountains? Wouldn't they be practicing intense self defense tactics?” Y/N continued, surprising Chan with her mature perspective.

The young princess, always curious but lacking someone to share her thoughts with, felt a warmth spread through her as Chan listened so intently. He stared at her in amazement, realizing that despite her young age, and her title as princess, Y/N possessed a wisdom and compassion unlike other kids her age.

    “I’m sure they have their own way of life. It’s just different from ours.” She concluded with a gentle smile.

Y/N had no idea how much relief her words brought to Chan, the Nightshade Prince. He was silently grateful that it was she who had rescued him from the river.

And so, one meeting turned into another, and another, until they began to lose count of how many times they had met. The two young royals giggled and devoured each other’s favorite snacks with gusto, forgetting all about the constraints of etiquette in their budding friendship. Each rendezvous brought them closer, sharing secrets, dreams, and aspirations. Like true friends.

While Han kicked rocks a short distance away, he couldn't help but marvel at the unusual sight before him. It was rare to see his Prince enjoying the company of another child, especially one from outside their usual social circle. Normally, Chris would scowl at the children of his father’s court and council. Children who dared to approach him with forced smiles and honey-dripping words. While the young girls of their nation were too intimidated to even make eye contact with him. Han couldn’t understand why—after all, Chris wasn’t even that scary looking.

The aspiring personal guard studied the rocky passageway they had climbed countless times now. It was a narrow path, hidden among overgrown bushes and vines, creating a natural canopy that almost concealed its existence entirely, like a cave almost. One could easily miss it if they were simply passing by. Yet here they were, sneaking past this narrow passage almost daily. Han couldn’t deny that everything about this risky routine scared him senseless. But despite his fears, he always succumbed to the Prince’s pleading gaze, dutifully preparing provisions like bread and snacks for their "walks of fresh air."

Was this what they called loyalty? As they parted ways that evening, arranging to meet again, Chris felt a sense of contentment he hadn’t known before. Whistling a happy tune, he and Han made their way back up the rocky path, the younger boy taking the now-empty sack from him.

    “The princess is much more down-to-earth than I thought.”  Han came to a conclusion after observing, they squeezed past narrow boulders and returned to their side of the forest.

    “She’s also funny.” Chris laughed, recalling the amusing stories Y/N had shared.

Han raised a brow at his master. “When do you plan on returning the necklace?”

Chris stopped in his tracks, groaning. He had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of their meeting today. They hadn’t seen each other since the day after he had presented her with the promised cake for her birthday—four days ago.

    “I’m going to replace the chain. The silver is all mangled from being in your filthy pocket.” Chris shook his head.

    “You’re the one who had it clutched in your fist for dear life!” Han retorted with a scoff, to which Chris rolled his eyes.

    “I’ll return it as soon as I get it to look brand new. He hummed, walking ahead with a bounce in his step. 

    “Now let’s hurry back before dinner.” Meanwhile, in the silence of the dining room of the West Palace in Elysium, the cold tone of Lady Katherine’s voice pierced the tense air.

    “You’ve been missing too many lessons. Let's not make it a habit.” She remarked as she meticulously cut the meat on her plate.

Y/N’s eyes froze at her dinner, her mind racing with worry. Had her mother caught her sneaking under the back wall?

    “Princess Sienna will be traveling to the Melgarde Estate this Autumn to begin prepping for her role as First Princess. I have managed to convince your father to allow you to accompany her this time.”

Y/N’s eyes shot towards her mother, her fists balling up her dress.

    “Must I go mother?” She hesitantly asked, glancing up at Katherine, who paused her knife and fork against the steak to stop working.

    “Such ridiculous questions don’t befit you, the Second Princess of this nation." Her mother replied sharply, throwing a stern glance her way.

    “I have worked very hard to get your father to look at us favorably. Do not ruin it.” The mother continued working her cutlery against her dinner.

    “Besides, you’ve known that one day or another you’d be sent to Melgarde. You too must learn of your royal duties. You are a princess after all...” 

Silence hung heavily between them once again, but Y/N’s appetite had vanished. Just a few weeks ago, she hadn’t cared where she stayed or which estate she roamed, but now, with a friend who didn’t see her as just the Second Princess of Elysium, leaving seemed unbearable. The thought of being separated from Chan, the one who had seen her for who she truly was, weighed heavily on her heart. He had celebrated her birthday with a cake and wishes meant only for her, a gesture that touched her deeply. Her eyes welled tears tears.

Autumn wasn’t even that far off. ─────────────────────── The following meeting of the secret friends had been plenty of joy like the many before. They lounged comfortably, exchanging funny anecdotes and catching up on the gossip they had been eagerly saving up during their brief separation (of just two days). Yet amidst the laughter and stories, Chan couldn’t help but notice a heaviness in Y/N’s demeanor. Her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes, and it was clear to the observant prince that something was amiss.

    “Are the stories not amusing today, or perhaps the pastries don't suit your taste?” Chan inquired gently, watching as Y/N quickly sat up to deny both concerns.

    “Neither! The pastries are delightful, and the tale of your cousin Felix putting his father in line was genuinely amusing, Chan!” She exclaimed, her attempt to brush off her subdued mood evident.

Chris smiles at the call of the name. Chan. It was a name he hadn’t heard in a long time. A name his mother had given him, a remnant of a time when life felt simpler and less burdened by secrecy and expectation. When the princess used that name, it made him feel oddly liberated—like the mischievous child he once was, running through the hall of the castle, free from the weight of royal responsibilities.

    “There just seems to be something bothering you." Chan remarked, leaning in attentively. He wanted nothing more than to lend an ear and offer comfort.

For a moment, Y/N was silent, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip as she studied Chan with eyes filled with care.

    “My mother is sending me to Melgarde by the end of this summer. I don’t want to go so far away...especially now that I have…you.” She confessed quietly, her voice tinged with melancholy as she dropped her gaze.

Chan blinks a few times, unsure of what or where Melgarde was. Watching her wrestle with her emotions, her fingers fidgeting with the grass, he felt a pang of guilt for hiding his true identity from her—especially since she considered him a close friend.

    “Why do you think your mother is sending you to Melgarde?” He asks, his eyes wandered to look at the now pink and orange sky.

    “I’m to learn about my royal duties. But she refuses to listen to what I feel.” Y/N groaned softly.

Chan had a familiarity with those feelings she was holding back. Duties, responsibilities. Things a Crown Prince must do.

    “Maybe your mother is just looking out for you. A princess like yourself must have many responsibilities in the near future. It's only right for her to do so.” Chan replied, his words betraying his own maturity beyond his years. 

She was the Princess’ mother. Of course she cared for her. Just like his own mother had, always striving for what was best. But Chan didn’t know Lady Katherine, yet he did his best to uplift Y/N’s spirits.

    “Your going away to Melgarde or wherever will not change the fact that we are friends. Will it?" He asked with a soft smile.

Inside, Chan felt a pang of sadness at the idea of Y/N leaving. His efforts to console her masked his own unease about their impending separation.

    “No. We will always be friends.” She grumbled, her fingers idly playing with her dress. “But I’m worried you’re going to forget me."

Chan chuckled softly at such a notion, partly because of Y/N's playful pout, which he couldn't resist teasing by poking her cheek with his finger. She blinked up at him, surprised by his sudden playfulness. He quickly withdrew his hand, sheepishly looking down.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle at the sight of Chan's ears turning red. He reminded her of a puppy. But despite the light moment, Chan's conscience weighed heavily on him, evident in the serious expression that replaced his smile.

    “I must confess something.” Chan's expression was tinged with worry.

Y/N tilted her head, sensing a shift in the atmosphere that left her uneasy.

    “What do you think about the Kingdom of Nightshade? Are you not afraid of its people?” His voice was low, a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

Y/N was taken aback by his sudden questions. Chan seemed unusually interested in the Bahng Clan and the Kingdom of Nightshade—this being the second time he had brought them up.

    “I’ve never met anyone from there. Have you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

Chan nodded slowly, meeting her gaze with a hint of hesitation.

    “How? We’re not allowed to cross over. Did you find a way to—” Y/N's words stopped abruptly as realization dawned on her.

Chan could almost see the pieces clicking into place in her mind. He watched as her expression shifted, brows furrowing in concentration.

    “Are you from Nightshade?” Her voice is tinged with surprise.

Chan wanted to disappear at that moment, regretting having brought up the topic at all. He could have continued the charade. The shock in her eyes was something he hadn’t anticipated.

    “I am.” He whispered finally.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Chan’s heart raced in his chest, uncertain of what her reaction would be. Would she run away, tell him to stay away? To go back and never return?

    “Are you afraid of me?” He asked tentatively, his vulnerability laid bare before her.

Y/N rested her chin on her hand, deep in thought.

    “So that’s why that dessert was so unfamiliar.” She mumbled to herself, trying to recall if there were any other dropped hints that she had missed.

    “Hmmm,”  she continued, her mind racing. “And that cape! Is it also something worn only in Nightshade?! Thank goodness I haven’t worn it out yet” She sighed, starting to ramble.

Chan blinked, slightly taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. He hadn’t realized just how curious the Second Princess could be.

    “So…I don’t scare you?” He ventured cautiously.

Furrowing her brows, Y/N looked at him as if he were being ridiculous.

    “You were moments away from being swept away by the river, and trembling like a leaf the first time we met, Chan. It was far from scary.”

A small snicker came from the bushes where Han was hiding. His voice, though loud in the otherwise quiet exchange, broke the tension.

    “See, even Han agrees.” Y/N teased lightly.

Chan shot a glare towards Han’s designated hiding bush, the younger boy immediately falling silent and attempting to sneak further away.

    “I once thought you were just some very sickly noble child not allowed to attend gatherings, only sneaking out with his servant boy for solace. But it makes sense that you’re from a whole different kingdom. Now that I think about it, some of the stories you’ve told…” Y/N trailed off, lost in thought.

    “You’re taking this very well. I was afraid for no reason.” Chan interjected, cutting off her train of thought before she could delve deeper.

He couldn't begin to express how relieved he felt.

Y/N laughed, sitting up and playfully tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.

    “Aren’t we friends?” She asked with a warm smile.

Her words made Chan smile, his ears flushing red once more. Taking a deep breath, he looked out over the expanse of the Grand Forest, the sun beginning its descent.

    “The closest of friends." He whispered watching her sweet smile.

The older boy takes in a deep breath of the spring breeze, eyes taking in the beautiful scenery of this Grand Forest.

    “Watch, there will come a day when we can meet freely. No sneaking over borders, or jumping in rivers.” His smile was hopeful, but Y/N seemed hesitant.

    “I wish it came before summer ended…” Y/N said sadly, but then shook it off, determination replacing the sorrow on her lips.

    “Let’s meet again after my return from Melgarde. It may take some time, and I’m not sure how much will change. But I promise I will not forget.”

A bittersweet feeling settled in Chan’s heart as he gently cupped her hands with his own, giving them a squeeze.

    “I won’t be able to send you letters, but let’s spend every day until you leave, together. I too promise to think of you every day until our reunion, my one and only lady friend.” He grinned, his dimples showing.

A comfortable silence fell between them as they prepared to say their farewells. Y/N then handed him a small wrapped stack of cookies

    “Let’s meet again in three days. My mother has been keeping a close eye on me lately, so I’ll have to hold back on slipping out.” She said, pushing the cookies into his arms.

    “And this is for Han. I feel sorry that he’s been playing with sticks and stones back there all this time.”

Chan begrudgingly accepted the cookies, promising to pass them along to his friend. Though their playdate had run longer than usual, the prince felt elated. The burden of secrecy was no longer weighing him down now that the truth was out there.

The sun dipped lower, casting elongated shadows across the palace grounds as Han and Chris dashed through the fading light. Han's laughter echoed in the quietening air, mingling with the rustling of leaves as they finally made their way back.

Han’s voice, light and carefree, carried the teasing remark about Chris not revealing his princely status to the princess. It was meant in jest, but Chris's reaction was anything but amused.

    “I would have but what if that’s the reason she pushes me away?” Chris's voice held a hint of uncertainty, his steps faltering as he glanced back at Han.

Han chuckled, his amusement not subsiding. “I doubt it would be, Prince Shivering Leaf.”

Chris sighed, the corners of his lips twitching as he realized Han was right—his apprehensions were likely just his overthinking. Yet before the conversation could settle, his mind tracks back to the “shivering leaf” comment, and he looks at an nonchalant Han now walking ahead. He smiled and muttered a playful command.

    “You better start running.”

The command caught Han off guard, and with a surprised yelp, he hastily stuffed the remaining cookies into his vest pocket and bolted. Chris pursued him with determination, their laughter carrying through the grounds, unaware of how quickly dusk was settling around them.

Han glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. But in that split-second distraction, he collided headlong into what felt like a pole, causing him to crumple to the ground with a sharp “oof”. Chris, caught off guard by Han's sudden fall, skidded to a halt a few steps behind, concerned.

Once he realized that it was not a pole, the younger boy scrambled to his feet, head bowed in an instinctual bow.

    “T-teacher.” He greeted tentatively, his lips tightening in an attempt to hide his shock.

Captain Elliot approached, eyes glanced towards the unexpected direction the boys emerged from before his stern gaze assessed the situation in front. 

    “I’ve been searching for the two of you.” He stated, his voice holding a note of reproach.

Chris hurriedly stepped forward, attempting to explain their escapades. 

    “We-we’re just here and there, practicing and rough-housing, Uncl-teacher.” He stammered, trying to downplay their mischief.

Sir Elliot observed them both, his gaze flickering between Chris and Han. Though aware that they had been up to something, he found solace in the fact that seemed to be getting along, and neither appeared injured or worse for wear. 

His tone softened slightly as he remarked, “As long as you’re not doing anything wrong.”

The relief was palpable as both boys straightened, the tension easing from their shoulders. Perhaps Sir Elliot had his suspicions, but for now, they were spared further scrutiny. With a paternal caution, he added, 

    “Don’t wander off too far. It’s beginning to get darker much quicker these days.”

With a nod of dismissal, Sir Elliot turned to continue on his way, leaving the boys to exhale in unison in relief. Chris reached out, gently tugging at Han's arm to rouse him from his momentarily frozen stance.

As they resumed their path towards the palace, the captain paused, his eyes catching sight of something out of place on the ground—a stray…cookie? Picking it up, he narrowed his gaze, then turned to glance back at the retreating figures of the two boys, now engaged in animated conversation as they walked away. The burly king tapped at the wood of his desk, the page of the letter he had received splayed over countless other stacks of paper. His brow furrowed as he absorbed the implications of its contents, his thoughts racing through the strategic decisions ahead.

A knock at the door broke his concentration, followed by the creak of the aged hinges as Elliot entered the room. The captain’s presence brought a sense of grounded reassurance amidst the king’s tumultuous thoughts.

    “You called for me, brother?” Sir Elliot’s gaze was steady, assessing the king’s grim expression as he approached the desk.

Without a word, the king picked up the creased letter and handed it to his younger brother. As Elliot’s eyes scanned the hastily written words, a deep sigh escaped the king’s lips, betraying the weight of his concerns.

A letter from the North.

    “The next warband for the Midnight Order has commenced their training and are ready to swear allegiance to their Master.” The king explained wearily, his voice laced with unease.

Sir Elliot absorbed the information with a furrowed brow, understanding the gravity of Commander Seo’s expectations through his letter. The Seo family’s longstanding stewardship of the kingdom’s military affairs meant that any delay in Prince Christopher’s training was not merely a matter of protocol but a strategic imperative for the nation’s defense. 

The Midnight Order of Nightshade was legendary—an elite, secretive cadre of warriors renowned for their unswerving loyalty and unmatched fighting skills. Trained rigorously under the harshest conditions, they swore allegiance solely to the kings of Nightshade. Operating covertly, as the king’s shadow, they remained unseen and silent, protectors in the dark. Their missions and actions were shrouded in secrecy, acting as the king’s eyes where his presence couldn’t extend. The moment had arrived for Chris to meet his order—his people, the next generation of warriors destined to protect the future king.

    “We have delayed sending Prince Christopher to the North for far too long.” Elliot’s voice broke the silence between the two men, resonating with the weight of responsibility. 

    “Commander Seo has shown patience due to the Prince's mourning period, but we cannot afford further delays. You know how crucial this matter is to him.”

The captain’s words were nothing but honest. He could tell that his brother, the wise and dignified king, who would never falter when it came to the best of his nation, was a weak father. Much like himself. Except Felix is not the Crown Prince. He will not take the throne and rule over as a successful king. Christopher had great responsibilities, and he needed to fulfill them. Sir Elliot understood the delicate balance between honoring the late Queen’s wishes and preparing the Prince for his future role. And The King’s decision carried implications that extended beyond familial concerns to the very stability of the kingdom.

    “The late Queen’s wishes allowed the Prince considerable freedom, against all advice.” Sir Elliot remarked gently, meeting his brother's gaze with understanding. 

    “But a year and some time of mourning has passed, and Prince Christopher must move forward. The longer we delay, the more vulnerable he becomes as Crown Prince.”

The king fell silent, his eyes fixed on the letter in Sir Elliot’s hands. He was painfully aware of what the obvious decision should be, but thinking about his only son, tugged at his heart

    “Let us delay a little further.” The King finally conceded with a sigh.         “I fear pressing him now may embitter him.”

    “Knowing the Prince, he will not go quietly.” Sir Elliot agreed with a defeated laugh. 

    “But, he has shown unexpected cooperation as of late. My only concern is his frequent ventures outside of the palace gates.” Elliot recalled the encounter earlier outside.

    “Indeed, quite worrisome.” King Bahng mused, his thoughts drifting to the unpredictable nature of his son’s recent behavior.

    “And what of his training partner?” King Bahng inquired.

    “The Prince wishes to assign him as his personal guard.” Elliot explained, a faint smile touching his lips.

The king chuckled softly at the revelation.

    “A very princely gesture indeed. But he has a long journey ahead to truly find and understand his people.”

The mention of the training partner stirred memories within the king.

    “When I saw him that day, carrying the Prince back, soaked through and on the verge of tears, I knew then that he would pledge his loyalty to the Crown Prince.” the king reminisced, a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

Sir Elliot nodded knowingly, both men contemplated the future that lay ahead for the Crown Prince and the challenges that awaited him on his path to kingship. Yet even amidst the weighty discussions of state, the recent antics of the two young boys had not escaped the King’s notice. ─────────────────────── The changing seasons brought with them a shift in the air, heralding the arrival of cooler winds from the north that swept through the shared region of the two realms. With these winds came more frequent rain showers, disrupting the almost daily reunions of the two royal friends.

    “Do you think the rain will stop tomorrow?” Chris queried, his hand extended to feel the drops falling outside the library window.

He was supposed to be concentrating on memorizing a book assigned to him, but the young prince was brimming with anticipation. He had finally repaired the necklace’s chain, and the crystal bird now hung more polished than ever. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on the princess’ face when he gave it to her.

Han sighed, observing his prince repeatedly pulling the small box out of his pocket, as if it had transformed in the ten minutes he hadn’t been staring at it.

    “I’m not sure about the rain, but you promised to meet her no matter the weather.” Han reminded him.

Chris emitted a thoughtful “hmm”, his gaze still fixed on the jewelry. The playmate slipped into the seat beside him, also inspecting the delicate piece.

    “It really is quite beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Han remarked.

    “Who does it belong to?” A third voice suddenly interjected with wonder.

    “The Princess, you already know—” Chris started to explain before catching himself, halting mid-sentence as he and Han turned to see Felix leaning in to get a closer look at the necklace.

The boys share a look, surprised by Felix’s unexpected presence. Felix glanced between the two older boys curiously.

    “Who’s the Princess?”

    “F-Felix. What are you doing here?” Chris stammered, while Han did what he does best in these situations.

He froze.

    “It’s raining, so I came to hideout here from lessons.” Felix replied matter-of-factly, then pointed at the crystal bird. 

    “Is the Princess the person who you’ve been sneaking out to see?”

Han’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he anxiously awaited Chris’s response. But the Crown Prince’s mind goes blank, unable to come up with an excuse.

    “Please don’t tell anyone…” Chris pleaded instead, quickly closing the box containing the necklace.

The smaller prince shrugged nonchalantly, taking a seat on one of the benches behind them. 

    “It’s been quite some time since I figured it out. You’re not very good at keeping secrets.” He remarked, displaying a sharpness that his father had always taken pride in.

    “Is she really a princess, or do you just call her that?” Felix inquired, genuinely curious.

The young boy had never met a princess before, their kingdom seemed to lack them. 

Chris smiled fondly, recalling his dear friend. “She is.”

Felix's eyes lit up with excitement at the confirmation.

    “Really! What's her name?" He asked eagerly, hungering for tales of foreign royalty.

Chris blinked, a realization dawning on him—he didn’t know her name.

    “You never asked!?” Han exclaimed, astonished at his friend’s oversight.

Felix sat there, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as he observed the exchange between a mortified Chris and a shocked Han. 

The young prince had always been enthusiastic about meeting his “Princess,” but now it dawned on him that he had never actually asked her name. He felt a pang of guilt and self-reproach—how!? How could he have overlooked something so basic? The princess had asked for his name, so why hadn't he reciprocated?

Han, who had lost count of how many exasperated sighs he had let out that morning because of Chris, sighed once more.

    “When you meet her again, please ask her name.” Han implored, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and concern. 

He knew how important she was to Chris and his mistake was probably going to weigh on his mind.

Chris nodded earnestly, feeling frustrated by his foolishness.

    “I will. I promise.” He replied earnestly.

And as the three boys left the library, the rain continued to patter softly against the now closed windows, a reminder of the barriers they would have to overcome to see each other again. But Chris was determined, more than ever, to learn his princess’ name and to show her the respect and friendship she deserved before she departed to Melgarde.

But as fate would have it, not everything would go according to his plan.

Chris grunted at the sight of the dark clouds gathering overhead, the sound of raindrops drumming steadily against the windowpane. He had awoken that morning with a sense of excitement, eager for his secret meeting with the princess. However, after enduring his lessons and searching the training grounds in vain for Han, who seemed to have disappeared, Chris's mood began to sour. It had been hours since he last saw his loyal friend. He had never realized just how much he relied on Han until now. Han orchestrated their excuses, ensuring their timely exits from the castle grounds, and always kept an eye out even in the forest. Without Han, Chris felt vulnerable and exposed, a sensation he hadn't experienced in their many adventures together. Han was more than just a friend at this point. He was a trusted confidant, and a guardian of their shared secrets.

Upon questioning another young trainer, Chris learned that Han was running an errand for Captain Elliot. The news added to Chris's frustration, on top of the relentless rain that threatened to ruin his plans.

Despite his best efforts to remain optimistic, Chris couldn't shake the growing anxiety as the time for his meeting with his princess approached. With a heavy sigh, Chris retrieved the box containing the polished crystal bird necklace from his bedside table. His loyal playmate had not returned from his task, and Chris was sure the princess was already waiting for him. She had always been one to arrive early.

Today, Chris decided, would be the day he ventured out alone.

A mistake on the young prince’s part.

As he approached the secret passage through the forest, his footsteps squelching on the rain-soaked ground, his heart sank at the sight before him. The entrance to the passage was completely obstructed, large boulders strategically placed to seal it shut. There was no way for him to squeeze through or move the rocks at all. Panic gripped his chest as he realized the gravity of the situation.

    “Prince Christopher.” King Bahng's voice rang out, firm and disapproving even in the downpour.

Chris froze, dread knotting in his stomach as he turned to face his father, standing with Captain Elliot and his Solar guards, the castle's elite protectors. 

Wet and shivering, Chris knew he was finally exposed, unmistakably caught. The steady drip of rain against the wooden floor of the king's study filled the chamber with a somber rhythm, punctuating the tense silence between father and son. Chris stood before his father, head bowed in shame, fully aware of the gravity of his actions. His duties as Crown Prince had been clear, yet he had failed in his responsibility to disclose the discovery of a hidden passage that posed a potential threat to Nightshade's security.

His father's loyalty to honoring peace agreements was unwavering, but could he say the same about the fickle Elysium King? Should they have discovered the crack between the two realms first…

    “You have broken my trust.” King Bahng's voice cut through the silence, cold and unforgiving, causing Chris, wet and shivering, to flinch.

Chris struggled to find words, his mouth dry with regret. He usually excelled at making excuses, but his mind raced with regret and the realization of the consequences of his actions. He had risked the stability of their kingdom.

    “Not only have you disregarded your duties as Crown Prince, but you have endangered Nightshade with your reckless adventures beyond our borders.” The king continued, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes in disappointment. 

    “There will be consequences. Firstly, your companion, your accomplice in this reckless act, will be sent away”

Chris' head snapped up at his father's words, panic and sorrow flooding his expression. He thought of Han, his friend, his loyal training partner, who had always dreamed of becoming a warrior and proving himself. And now, because of Chris, Han’s dreams were going to shatter             “Please, Father...” Chris pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. 

    “I will accept any punishment you deem fit. But Han... He was only following my lead. Punish me, but spare him.” He implored, falling to his knees, overwhelmed by guilt and desperation

King Bahng turned away, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window where the setting sun cast a melancholy glow. The sight of his son on his knees was a painful one, both as a father and as a king. But after a moment of silence, King Bahng turns slowly, seeing the sight he did not enjoy. Yet the urgency in the boy’s blood-red eyes spoke volumes. He was almost impressed at what lengths the Prince was willing to go for his people.

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.

    “You will be sent to the White Mountains of the North, kept under the strict supervision of Commander Seo.” He declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. 

    “There will be no special treatment because you are a prince. You will undergo rigorous training and learn the responsibilities that come with your position. It is time you understand the gravity of your role.”

His father's gaze softened slightly. 

    “Your companion Han, will accompany you. You have started this together, so you will receive your punishment together.” King Bahng added, acknowledging his son's plea.

King Bahng turned to the rain-streaked window once again. The cold silence returned.

    “You will leave tomorrow.” He stated firmly, his eyes fixed on the horizon .

    “Yes your Majesty.” Chris whispered, bowing his head. ─────────────────────── As summer drew to an end, the looming departure of the first princess to Melgarde Estate became inevitable, the departure date set, weighing heavily on Y/N's heart. The news had imposed a sudden deadline on her time with Chan, leaving her in tears several times as she grappled with the uncertainty of their future. She wondered if Chan would share the same sadness, if he would shed tears like she did. His comforting presence, his reassuring hand squeezes, had always been a source of solace for her. They hadn't seen each other in days, and with each passing day, her yearning for her friend intensified.

Standing at their usual meeting spot amidst the Grand Forest, Y/N tried to hold onto hope despite the relentless downpour and the roar of the river nearby. Perhaps the rain had delayed Chan? They had made a promise, and he was determined to keep it.

But as the first hour slipped by without any sign of Chan, worry crept in. Should she go look for him? Fear gripped her, imagining the dangers of venturing out alone in the eerie forest towards a direction she was not familiar with.

Another hour passed, the forest now slowly cloaking in darkness as the sky dimmed. Panic set in as realization dawned—Chan was not coming. Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes once more, mixing with the raindrops on her cheeks. The weight of their separation and the uncertainty of when, or if, they would see each other again bore down on her, casting a shadow over their unfulfilled promise.

Alone in the fading light of day, Y/N's heart ached with longing for Chan, wishing desperately for his comforting presence amid the looming departure that threatened to tear them apart. But Chan had not come as he promised.

And just like that summer came to an end. The Grand Forest underwent a noticeable transformation. Once a vibrant destination for picnics and joyful gatherings, its charm had faded following the tragic incident involving the first princess. The forest, once alive with the laughter and footsteps of visitors, now settled into a solemn quietude.

After Y/N and Chan's last secret meeting, their shared laughter and excitement seemed to disappear along with the warm breeze of the summer. The forest paths they once frequented became untouched and overgrown, as if nature itself respected the absence of their presence.

The end of that summer marked more than just a change in weather, it symbolized a shift in the forest's ambiance. A transition from bustling activity to a serene stillness tinged with melancholy.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued. ── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969, @tsunderelino, @solandiszale, @fixation-dump,

[thedelicatearcher]

finnick odair alphabet fluff

g - gifts

receiving thoughtful gestures from finnick is nothing unusual. he’s always thinking of you, finding traces of you in the smallest details around him. whether it’s the soft sunset-orange seashells that he finds as pretty as your eyes, or the necklaces with your birthstone that catch his eye in the capitol, you’re always in his mind.

when he goes to the beach, craving the quiet company of the waves rolling onto the shore, he often returns with his pockets filled with seashells. he brings a few conch shells, determined to turn them into earrings for you, along with colorful spiral shells and tiny scallops to decorate your dresser, and a large shell to use as a jewelry holder. 

after seeing how much you adored the seashells, he decided to buy a small wooden box, shaped like a treasure chest, and decorate it with seashells of all shapes and colors. finnick spent an entire morning sitting on the floor, glue in hand, tongue sticking out in deep concentration, arranging the shells in the prettiest way he could while making sure the box wouldn’t get too heavy or risk any falling off. the memory of your face lighting up, followed by  a little too tight hug after receiving the gift, still makes him giddy, butterflies in his stomach as if they might burst just from the thought of your radiant smile and crinkled eyes.

his gaze drifted over the gaudy, gold-colored walls of the capitol stores. the absurdly large and obnoxious statues of their leader standing in the middle of a lavish plaza made him want to either laugh or vomit, whichever reaction came first. he knew perfectly that you have told him countless times that he doesn’t need to bring you anything from the capitol, just his safe return, but his eyes had landed on a stunning necklace with your birthstone. suddenly, all he could think about was how the gemstone would look resting against your chest. hell, he was even tempted to get another one for himself, eager to have a piece of you with him wherever he goes. now, whenever he’s feeling anxious, his fingers absentmindedly rub the small gem, as if by touching it, he can feel your comforting presence, wondering if you do the same with yours to feel close to him.

if you were to ask finnick why he's so enthusiastic about giving you sweet presents, it’s because he loves the “reward” that comes with it. even the smallest gestures, like cutting and preparing bowls of fresh fruit for you to enjoy after a peaceful afternoon at the beach, are met with you jumping to his embrace, showering his sun-kissed cheeks with relentless pecks. as you continue your loving attack on his now rosy face, he can’t help but giggle uncontrollably, feeling flustered. despite being together for years, he still becomes bashful at your tender displays of affection. he wraps his arms around you, lifting you up and spinning you around before gently setting you down on the couch, where he traps you between his arms and kisses your neck until you’re left breathless.

on the other hand, he also loves receiving gifts from you. he has seen it all, dazzling rings from the so unawarely disturbing capitol people, poor exploited creatures paraded as exotic pets, and the fanciest food ever made by human hands. yet, despite all of this, he always prefers your handmade gifts.

the day you surprised him with a scrapbook, he couldn’t hold back the tears of joy that welled up in his eyes. the large, glitter-sprinkled brown book felt heavy in his hands, and he looked at you with a mix of excitement and curiosity, so impatient to discover why it felt so bulky. when he opened it, he was greeted with a beautiful collection of memories: leaves from the day you first met, knitted bracelets he made for you before your first dates, a drawing of his soft green eyes you did after expressing to him how mesmerizing they were, pressed flowers from bouquets he had given you throughout your relationship, and photos pulled out from wherever you could -even a district 4 newspaper cutout featuring a 16 year old finnick winning a local fishing competition, proudly holding a small wooden trophy that resembled a swordfish, with you beside him, jumping with excitement.

[ninadove]

Lukadrinette kids

Because I can. Enjoy these silly little thoughts.

📝 General notes:

Marinette, aka Maman, started out as a very successful and very stressed out fashion designer. She ends up retiring at 35 to take over the bakery and finally learn to chill (it’s going… better than expected).

Luka, aka Papa, is a guitarist with a very niche following and is perfectly happy with that. He’s very present in his kids’ lives and the easiest parent to open up to, because of course he is.

Adrien, aka Dad, is the stay-at-home parent and could not be more stoked. And scared. Someone help them

Emma and Hugo are twins, but look nothing like each other, which baffled Adrien and Felix when they were born; Adrien will never admit it, but he was a tiny bit disappointed they weren’t identical.

To help the kids connect with their heritage, their parents speak French, English and Mandarin Chinese at home. Despite it all, Louis’ first words were a full sentence in Japanese — more on that later.

It’s very common for French kids to have two “middle names” (deuxième et troisième prénoms), so I have planned accordingly. Enjoy!

🐍 Emma

Her full name is Emma Sentibug Alya Dupain-Cheng. Adrien would not have it any other way.

She’s the oldest by five minutes and she takes it very seriously. Too seriously, even.

Emma inherited Gabriel’s grey eyes, which will have no influence on her perception of herself at all, no sir.

Like Marinette, she feels responsible for protecting everyone and everything around her, which is why she was blacklisted from using the Ladybug Miraculous before she reached the tender age of five.

As luck would have it, she ended up with the Snake, which is even worse for her mental health. For maximum dramatic irony, I think I’ll call her superheroine persona Aspik.

Aroace and sad. It’s already hard enough to be aspec as it is, but given the importance romance played in her parents’ lives… you get the point.

🦋 Hugo

Aka Hugo Felix Tom Dupain-Cheng. Yes, Felix cried upon learning his name. A lot.

🎶 Bi bi bi bi BI 🎶

Inherited Mari’s talent for arts and crafts and Adrien’s dramatics. Despite being very similar to them both, he often finds it difficult to talk to them.

Uncle Felix, however, is his absolute favourite adult in the world, and regularly knocks some sense into him.

Adrien and Nino were so excited for their sons to be besties! So naturally they hate each other’s guts

They end up kissing about it, though, so it’s fine.

Butterfly holder. Very purple 💜

🐈‍⬛ Louis

Aka Louis Nino Jules (after Juleka)

Because twins were a lot to handle, Louis only came along six years later.

When he doesn’t get his way, he turns petulant and grumpy, which makes him Plagg’s absolute favourite. Luka finds it endearing and jokes that they rub off on each other. This stresses Adrien out, though, as he fears it might be an early sign of Gabriel Behaviour.

The truth is that Louis just has these huge feelings that he doesn’t know how to handle… and you know who relates to this? KAGAMI. She’s the only one who can get him to calm down once he starts crying. She will pick him up, he will cling to her jacket and suck on his thumb, and she will carry on with the conversation as if nothing happened.

Originally Very Small, he gets a HUGE growth spurt and ends up built like Tom, which is very unusual for Cat holders.

🐞 Sabine

Aka Sabine Amelie Rose

The surprise baby of the bunch. She looks just like her grandma Sabine!

A total ray of sunshine. Also very gay.

As the youngest and eventual holder of the Ladybug Miraculous, she triggers Mari’s overprotective tendencies the most. Adrien actually had to step up and get her to back off as it was starting to stir up bad memories.

Because Rose was very ill when the twins and Louis were young, she and Juleka didn’t get to watch them as much as she would have liked. They made up for it by spoiling their younger niece beyond reason.

The most musically inclined of the kids. Her love for punk rock and metal clashes hard with her cutesy vibes. Rose couldn’t be prouder. 💖