#I made three versions to make up for how long I took making this

[corseque]

I honestly just wanted one single plot step that I could not predict given the 10 year wait. More behind the cut, I talk about Emet too, and I'm comparing his writing favorably to Solas' writing and why it worked better for me personally, but I am just talking about the writing skill that went into the games and not the dudes themselves, I love them both dearly of course. idk this is a mess and I am not going to edit it for clarity

For me, the game was a series of me saying

"ok I knew that. cool."

"oh yeah, I knew that. I guess it's good that the larger fandom knows about that now."

"nice, but yeah I already knew that too"

"that was something we've been talking about a lot for years"

"this thing they are acting like is a huge enormous reveal that the characters could not possibly have deduced through simply thinking about it in depth over the 10 years... the fans easily figured out by thinking about it in depth 10 years ago. So you would think his girlfriend would be able to figure it out more easily than we did. Like, why couldn't the game have been like 'oh lavellan already figured that out a while ago' it would have cost them nothing"

"this is something I've been thinking about for years, and now that it's being revealed, the companions' reactions to it are very irritating and jarring and unnecessary and I really dislike the experience I'm having right now, in this, the hour of my greatest triumph"

"this thing that is happening on my screen right now is something that I wrote an essay about 2 years ago describing how it would be a letdown if it happened without the correct setup"

"this way that they're characterizing Solas makes him less likable and less interesting than I have been finding him for all these years, and I have had people tell me 'no, he's simpler than you think' for years but I guess I was wrong, he really is simpler than I thought, so that fucking sucks. I wish I could take that information out of my brain."

"this thing is a retcon of information I have been thinking about for 10 years, and so I don't know how to follow along with this new direction, and I'm not sure if I even want to because it's not particularly interesting anyway"

"aw that was sweet"

"why is it like, so very impossible to have an honest back-and-forth with my favorite character about the dilemma that was most interesting to me about the previous game"

and then, as soon as, like, the other fans had caught up to the Solas lore that was really obvious from the other games, the game was.... over without anything surprising happening, or introducing a new element or plot point or perspective, or a real true twist (or two, or three) for those of us who have thought about it too hard for too long. It was very simple and easy, much, much, much, much easier than I was imagining. It all felt sort of like that Nicholson quote:

The thing was, the whole story was so interesting to think about because in 10 years, I couldn't figure out a good solution to it!!!!! It's why I was never able to write post-game fanfic about it. So I was stoked to find out some reveal we never knew about, some new information, in maybe a SERIES of steps of new information, that made the situation more complicated but also something that could be navigated by everyone involved. I know it was asking for a lot, but they had TEN YEARS, and they seemingly had set up the things they did in DAI on purpose, so surely they had some idea of a complex and satisfying narrative that would reconcile everyone.

The reason why I was expecting this is because FFXIV did a very similar story arc, which was started AND concluded WITHIN those 10 years (so it took the FFXIV team far less time to deliver as well). And the conclusion to the story in FFXIV did what I was expecting Dragon Age to do. So I thought, "holy shit, if this is the FFXIV version of this plot, how much more complicated is DA4 going to be!?!?" The DA devs also PLAYED FFXIV so they were completely aware, several years ago, of a satisfying story ending that was pretty darn similar.

People are probably going to think "oh, well Chelsea was disappointed because she spent too much time building it up in her head" but that's exactly it - I actually speculated and thought about FFXIV's story IN DEPTH NONSTOP for a year+ before its ending came out, and the ending absolutely blew me away. FFXIV Endwalker managed to introduce information and new story elements that I was not able to figure out in the YEAR I spent speculating on the ending of FFXIV's story. It took a complicated situation and revealed several several more facets to it that I was not able to predict, but were very interesting and thematically compelling, and took us all to surprising and climactic places that we could not have predicted.

Endwalker ("end" is in the title on purpose) too, was written to be THE ULTIMATE SATISFYING ENDING for a very long-running story in the exactly way that Veilguard SHOULD HAVE for Dragon Age, so while this complexity is being explored, FFXIV also gave catharsis to many different plot threads that have been built up through the previous expansions, until finally it ends with a bang. The story is desperately good to me, I loved it, it gave me closure for Dragon Age long before Veilguard was even revealed, and going back and looking at its story has made this whole thing far less painful for me.

So, I actually did not have a picture in my mind for how things SHOULD go. I just had the thought "I hope it's complicated and there are points of view or facts that we haven't before been exposed to, and the situation is resolved respectfully for Solas, not making him look like a fucking idiot (lol, the only thing I asked for). I don't even care what happens to Solas and Lavellan, I just need the story to be complicated and interesting to think about. Please, god, don't let it be "solas is wrong and he just needs to be convinced" because that's like the simplest story you could tell with this setup"

(btw they managed to tell Emet-Selch's story without making him seem like he's being an idiot on purpose or can never get anything right, and in fact the more the story goes on, the more you think of him as smart and capable and cool, so it is possible to write.... I wasn't asking for the entire moon)

And I played it and... yeah. Most of the story beats were more simple than I wanted them to be, a lot of them didn't make sense in my heart given the writing from Inquisition. (This is another essay, but if Solas' thematic story arc was always about him needing to let go of regrets, why was his personal quest the way it was? After that quest, doesn't he end up regretting not doing more....? Why did he never really talk about regret during Inquisition? If he was so trapped by regret, why was he able to do so many actions? It doesn't mesh well to me. The whole regret thing was very quarter-baked to me, I don't even like thinking about it.) His story never seemed like one that was as simple as being about one man's regrets, but then, I guess, it was always just about one man's regrets.

Emet-Selch's personal storyline (and the way it interacts with and affects the larger story) is very similar but much more cohesive and satisfying to me. It would be difficult to explain why without the aforementioned 5-hour essay. Emet-Selch's story IS about grief and anguish on a world-shaping scale in a similar way that Solas' was apparently always about letting go of regret, but Emet's story was also very pointedly and beautifully about that one theme for the entirety of his story from every tiny detail, from beginning to end - meanwhile, it seemed to me that they tried to introduce 'regret' as the main thrust of Solas' story only in the short story with the Regret demon onward.

From Inquisition just by itself, the closest I personally could get to a story theme for Solas was his inability to trust others hurting him and the world, but his trusting others in DA4 wasn't really addressed to my satisfaction. He is never required to trust anyone before the ending, he never opens up or makes himself vulnerable at all. People find out information about him, he never really dynamically opens himself. So the personal story I thought he had was never addressed at all, while a new one about regret was introduced that never made a ton of sense to me. And I don't think this is just because of my expectations - my reaction to FFXIV proves that I am able to meet good writing where it goes in surprising directions, as long as it's interesting and thoughtful and clear.

And I think this might be part of what people felt was off about the ending - Solas is sort of uninvolved in the revelations that are about him, and doesn't do much to be part of his own ending. Part of what I loved about Solas in Inquisition is that he is not controlled by you in any way, and so he feels like his own person with a very strong sense of character.

Anyway, Emet-Selch, in a very comparable and arguably more extreme plot position, is very involved in the revelations about himself, he always feels like a very strong character who cannot be affected by the player, and the whole situation is handled with deft emotion and care and delicacy. The story is comparatively very uninterested in litigating Emet-Selch or putting him on trial - the story allows you to simply feel the way that you feel in an organic way, and Emet's story spends that energy instead actually exploring his thematic material about grief and legacy, and the larger story theme of existentialism instead, in a way that is very refreshing and interesting. I've seen a lot of western stories tie themselves in knots over "redemption" and frankly it's almost never been interesting at all. Who cares about any of that. lol

(Now, I guess this is a matter of preference, because some people really like being able to shape a character's story, but idk I rewatched the ending of FFXIV and even though there wasn't a choice with Emet, because it isn't a branching story, his story felt more satisfying to me, maybe because there isn't a patronizing choice to be made for him. He is who he is, and he fulfills a very beautiful narrative role and purpose that no other character could in the story.)

I don't know how this could have been improved to me and still allowed players to choose Solas' ending for him, but I can actually think of a few different methods, none of which involve Rook condescendingly and patronizingly lecturing Solas as if Solas had never thought about a single aspect of this horrible situation he's in before that very moment that Rook lectures him lmfao.

All this to say... idk I'm writing this and I am not going back to edit it so it's stream-of-consciousness. But yeah

I just wanted the story to be complicated on a few more levels than I could have predicted. I genuinely don't care what happened, but I thought of a few twists like the Veil coming down and yeah, I was expecting A Single Twist or reveal to happen. In a Dragon Age game.

I wanted Solas to seem cool and capable and noble and smart, and actually feel like he was as old and experienced as he is.

I wanted a clear theme I could sink my teeth into

Like notice I didn't even say anything about Solavellan. Like I never in 100 years thought they were getting a happy ending where they were both alive in bodies, and I like that we got that, but I would honestly trade it for a more complicated story. To me, if a story is sad you can always write fanfic, but if a story isn't COMPLICATED, that's a much more urgent issue.

These 3 things DA4 didn't give me in a way that satisfied me but FFXIV did. anyway idk the way my hyperfixations work, I completely switch to a new subject so talking about Dragon Age is actually hard for me right now.

[idaten-jump]

Sho Yamato, Leader of Team Phoenix Wing and Ruler of X-city.

An Evil Sho, as requested by @sylvieserene !

I'm afraid I may not have made him look quite evil enough, but I hope the rest of the art and design can make up for it! ❤

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[endursent]

My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (2)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】

【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】

【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; made the genshin version... no reason for this to be like 19 pages 😭 】

【 word count; 8.723 | read on ao3 | hsr ver | hsr reader ver | gi reader ver 】

Alhaitham ;

Kaveh gaped at you when you brought a cat into the house, one that… looked eerily similar to a certain blockhead. “I can explain,” you say as you set the cat down on the floor, he doesn’t enter the house further than you do, instead sitting down by your feet and observing the interaction with… interest? Amusement…? 

  Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.

  For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson. 

  He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination. 

  He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all. 

  You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense. 

  He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.     Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.

  But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.

Arataki Itto ;

It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.

  You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!

  You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.

  Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”

  He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically. 

  A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.

  Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully. 

  He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night. 

  So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.

Baizhu ;

You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.

  You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.

  Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price. 

  Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.

 The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed. 

  Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do. 

  But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.

Cyno ;

You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city! 

  You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.

  You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…

  But very well, he wins this round. 

  Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either! 

  After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.

  You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range. 

  The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.

  He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!

  This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.

  And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.

Dainsleif ;

He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.

  Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.

  It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.

  You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.

  He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort. 

  Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.

  Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.

  But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.

Diluc ;

Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!

  Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—

  Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…

  He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out. 

  You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you  walk over and open the door for him to slip out of. 

  Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do  while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses. 

  It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.

  One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.

  You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.

  Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.

Kaedehara Kazuha ;

Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.

  (Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).

  There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.

  You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour. 

  Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…

  But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.

  He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.

  He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not. 

On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?

  He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.

  Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.

  You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.

Kaeya ;

Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing. 

  Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing. 

  You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human. 

  He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray. 

  His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions. 

  He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek. 

  After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.

  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 

  He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.

  But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?

Kamisato Ayato ;

Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens. 

  Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.

  Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place. 

  You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.

  His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind. 

  Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.

  You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!

  He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.

  Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does. 

  He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed. 

  You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you. 

  He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

Kaveh ;

Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.

  A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?

  Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.

  You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.

  “... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.

  Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”

  You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat? 

  Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.

  Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”

  Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible. 

  While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.

  But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.

  He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.

Neuvillette ;

You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?

  You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?

  Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.

  You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.

  He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.

  You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.

  Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.

  Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.

  He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.

  It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable. 

  Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.

Tartaglia ;

You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.

  You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.

  Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over. 

  Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.

  You set your haps on your hips. “What?”

  “Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat. 

  … fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”

  What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!

  He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.

  He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.

  Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other. 

  He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches. 

  In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds. 

Thoma ;

He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.

  But he also has a problem…

  He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself. 

  Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around. 

  Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him. 

  Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week. 

  But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work. 

  The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it. 

  He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it. 

  Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.

  His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work. 

Venti  ;

You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.

  Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes. 

  He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat. 

  Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.

  He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself. 

  Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.

  And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing. 

  You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”

  Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares. 

Wanderer ;

He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.

  And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.

  He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.

  At least, that was the plan. 

  Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.

  As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat. 

  He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it! 

  And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes. 

  He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days. 

  You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away. 

  It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!

Wriothesley ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*. 

  You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”

  He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard. 

  You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!

  It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.

  On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!

  He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.

  Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…

  You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.

  He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks. 

Xiao ;

He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach. 

  You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat. 

  He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn. 

  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.

  … after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…

  But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy. 

  He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.

  Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.

  But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill. 

  But he does. Not. Meow. 

  Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…

  Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.

  Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.

Zhongli ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.

  You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.

  After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.

  You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom. 

  Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before. 

  He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping. 

  He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do. 

  Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission??? 

  You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this. 

* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.

* wriothesley is supposed to be a maine coon type of cat, just huge and heavy. but not wild cat huge.

[levanterhaze]

gameboy ― bangchan

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] fratboy!bangchan x f!reader . unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, graphic sex details, if you don't feel comfortable, don't read! fingering (f. receiving), just pure smut.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i wrote this in one night, i think i was inspired or something. it's been a while since i've written, but i found this one interesting. i'm still thinking about doing a second part!

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡―[part 2]

The music was a bit too loud, but that's just the vibe, right?

Eunji was super focused on her school skirt she had borrowed from Sohee, working hard to recreate Britney Spears' iconic style. The theme was Y2K, and the fraternity was buzzing with Cher Horowitz, Paris Hilton, and Beyoncé energy.

You took a refreshing sip of your drink while your friends spread out to mingle. Sohee was caught up in the moment, and she and Minho, her boyfriend, shared a lovey-dovey moment. Eunji was telling someone how tired college was making her, that she barely had time to go to a spa, which, for Eunji, was total nonsense.

You were sharing a room with the two of them, which was very fortunate as they were both top-notch people. You scanned the place, looking for something or someone. It was a bad habit, you knew. Going to frat parties meant sharing the same square metre as your nemesis – or nearly so.

Your friends were aware of your mutual dislike of each other, but as you couldn't seem to avoid going to parties or socializing with your friends, you made a conscious effort to be the bigger person and not let his presence upset you. That said, it wasn't always easy.

Bangchan got what he wanted most of the time. He was arrogant and overbearing, which drove you crazy. As a woman who fought hard against all kinds of ignorance, it was gross to see him bragging around campus as if he were the last man in the world.

What was even more annoying was that all the girls fell for his bullshit.

Sohee, who was the most blunt of the three, said this was "suppressed horniness" and that the moment you and Bangchan were alone, all this animosity would turn into libido and it would all be sorted in one good fuck. But that was far from happening if it was up to you. "Now we're talking," Hyunjin appeared in your line of sight. With his long black hair slicked back, he looked like a slightly slutty version of Patrick Bateman, with fake blood on his jaw and chest. "You look good.

With your hands on your waist, you turned around to show how much effort you'd put into your costume. 

As someone deeply involved in theatre, you are always fully committed to any challenge. Whether it's a play or a fraternity party, you commit wholeheartedly. After much thought, you decided that you would be Suki. The lilac blouse was small and suited your upper body perfectly. The pink leather pants were almost identical, ending just below your bottom and with garters that went down to your thighs, exposing your skin by just a few inches. Suki is a sexy and iconic character, which is a perfect fit for you.

"You know it's not Halloween, right?" you shouted over loud music. Hyunjin gave a casual shrug and smiled, showing his teeth.

"There's always an excuse to dress up as Patrick Bateman."

There was a DJ at the party, apparently Minho's friend Jisung. He cranked up the music, and everyone gravitated towards the centre of the room, where most people were dancing. It was reggaeton and all the girls were rolling around and gettin down on the floor. Sohee was dancing with her boyfriend, whose hands were on her waist and whose face was close to hers, looking very pleased.

Eunji put her back to yours, glass in hand, and you danced together. As the alcohol took over your bodies, it was hard to hold back.

The beat was infectious and the energy was almost impossible to control. You danced together for three more songs until the alcohol had worn off and you desperately needed to find a toilet.

"Wait for me!" you shouted as you climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor access. It wasn't your first time in this dorm, but the drink had clouded your mind and all the doors simply looked the same.

You played a quick round of eenie, meenie, miney, mo, your finger landing on one of the many identical doors. Without hesitation, you turned the handle and pushed it open, expecting to find a bathroom. What you found instead stopped you dead in your tracks.

It wasn’t the bathroom. Not even close.

A girl was kneeling in the corner of the room, her blonde hair held by thick hands and enlarged veins. Your first impulse was to close the door, but for some odd reason you didn't. Standing there, eyes downcast and lips hanging open, was Bangchan.

You would never have believed it if you'd seen it.

The girl was working really hard, loudly moaning as she put it in her mouth. You stood there watching and thinking about what you saw. Bangchan had his dark hair covering his face, but then he lifted his head and you could see the thick veins on his neck.

Maybe the alcohol was having an effect. You tripped over yourself, making him look at you.

Your eyes went wide and you spun on your heels, running in the opposite direction.

"Oh no, oh shit."

At that moment, a girl came out of the bathroom, and you thanked God for finally finding a place where you could lock yourself in. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin prickled. Oh my god. That was too embarrassing. It wasn't something you should have seen, and even worse, it wasn't something you should have enjoyed witnessing.

After using the bathroom and washing your face with cold water, you went back into the living room and pretended that nothing had happened. If you drank enough, the sight of Bangchan groaning would quickly fade from your mind.

"You won't believe this," Eunji shouted, laughter spilling out with every word. "Some guy just stripped down to nothing but a cowboy hat and is now giving everyone his best Magic Mike impression."

Sure enough, there he was—a member of the basketball team, stark naked save for the cowboy hat perched jauntily on his head, gyrating in the middle of the dance floor like he was auditioning for Vegas.

"That's... dedication," you muttered, unable to tear your eyes away from the chaotic spectacle.

"That's fucking insane," Felix chimed in, suddenly materializing beside Hyunjin. He was dressed as a somewhat disheveled Romeo, complete with a feathered cap that looked suspiciously askew. His grin was as bright as the party lights.

"Is it?" Hyunjin asked dryly, eyeing the cowboy dancer like he was trying to calculate how much alcohol it would take to get someone to that point. "Seems on-brand for him."

"You know that guy?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hyunjin shrugged. "Not well enough to explain this."

Felix laughed, holding up a drink. "I don't know, kind of feels like art to me. Pure, unfiltered expression."

"Expression, my ass," Eunji snorted. "I give him five more minutes before campus security steps in."

Something caught your eye from across the room. Like a moth lured by a flame, your eyes found him. Bangchan was coming down the stairs with a girl in a Christina Aguilera costume. Her breasts barely tucked into her low-cut top, while he was now shirtless, wearing only an open sweatshirt over his abs.

Fucking ridiculous.

"Hyunjin!" you shouted, needing to get away from there as quickly as possible so that he wouldn't see you. You could picture the teasing or judgy looks he would give you. "Do you want to go with me to get a drink?" your voice came out sounding a bit desperate.

He was making his way through the crowd.

"The table's just over there, go get yourself," Hyunjin grumbled, but you rolled your eyes and took him by the hand.

"I'm asking you to come with me. Shut up and move."

The boy couldn't avoid it because you were pulling him through the crowd.

When you got to the table, you filled a cup with beer and drank it all in one go. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, shocked at how determined you were. The second time, you were about to put the beer straight to your lips, but your friend was quicker and took it out of your hands.

"Okay. I think you've had enough."

You looked at your friends, and saw that Bangchan was looking at you and Hyunjin. There was something unusual in his gaze, something you couldn't and didn't want to understand. But something was causing you to feel uneasy. Especially in your panties.

You noticed the strange movement because in a second he was nowhere to be found. In the crowd, you saw Bangchan coming towards you.

“Hyun. Kiss me.”

Hyunjin froze, his brow arching high enough to vanish beneath his dark fringe. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I need you to kiss me,” you repeated, your voice steady but your eyes darting toward the crowd. “Like, now.”

His hand stalled mid-motion, the glass he’d been holding clinking softly as he set it on the table. “What’s going on with you today?” he asked, studying you like you’d just sprouted another head. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Hyunjin, seriously,” you hissed, stepping closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Just act. I need you to do this for me. Now. Please.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback, before his gaze narrowed slightly. “This better not be a setup for something ridiculous,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching. “But fine. If it’s that important...”

The boy shrugged. He was surprised by the situation, but he would never refuse a demand for a kiss, even if it was a fake one. Hyunjin grabbed your face and pulled you into a solid kiss. There was no tongue, and there wasn't much feeling either. There was no excitement or the usual growing heat between you. But that didn't mean your friend wasn't a good kisser.

You kept going for a few seconds, until you needed to catch your breath and pushed him away by squeezing his shoulder a little. Hyunjin raised his eyebrows and shrugged. A girl walked past you, looking surprised. One of Hyunjin's friends called out to him, and then he left.

You hadn't a clue what you were doing. The idea after executing it seemed like a disaster. Kissing your friend to throw Bangchan off sounded better in your head.

"You sure love being the center of attention, don’t you?"

The voice that followed caught you off guard, smooth and laced with confidence. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you quickly shrugged it off.

"Funny, coming from you," you shot back, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. He couldn’t see your face, but the eye-roll in your voice was impossible to miss.

And to be honest with himself, he could imagine a bunch of other things, too.

Receiving a blowjob from a student in his room was nice, but what made him come was having you watching. All this mutual hate made him more excited. It was like a competition, and every day he got closer to scoring.

He couldn't ignore your figure as you walked by, the way your pants clung to the curves of your body. Seeing you there, watching, made him think about doing all sorts of things, but none of them involved those pants.

"Kissing my friends in front of me? Bold move." He laughed at the look of disgust on your face. “If you wanted to join in, sweetheart, you could’ve just said so." His voice dropped, low and smooth, as he leaned closer. You could feel the dampness of his plump lips on your skin.

Frustrated by the interaction, you spun around and averted his gaze.

"You’re so full of yourself, it’s gross" But it didn't matter. The more you talked, the more he enjoyed himself. "And you're a disgusting, perverted..."

"If I'm all that, then why didn't you close the door, hmm?" He shot back, his smirk widening.

You were at a loss for words, your mind scrambling to form a coherent thought. Bold didn’t even begin to describe him. Bangchan wiped his lips with an infuriating nonchalance, stepping closer until the air between you was practically charged.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerously smooth. “You wanted to be her, didn’t you?” Your eyes widened. "I know you did. Yeah. You watched 'cause you liked what you saw. You wanted it to be your lips wrapped around my cock.”

"You're..."

“Save it,” he interrupted with a cocky smirk, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t waste your breath. If you really want to find out, meet me there.”

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your pulse pounding in your ears. The sight of his broad shoulders and that silver chain resting against his toned abdomen only made things worse.

This was insane. Your head spun, and it wasn’t from the booze. His words, his presence, everything about him was too much—and yet, your body betrayed you.

Did you want to find out?

The whispers from theater rehearsals echoed in your mind. The girls who couldn’t stop talking about him, the things he supposedly did, the way he made them feel. Was he really that good? Was he as intoxicating as he seemed when you caught that glimpse earlier?

If none of that made sense, then why did your body tell you otherwise?

So you walked among a crowd of people. The noise of your thoughts overwhelmed the music. With each step, you found a reason to quit. Your friends were having fun, and they probably wouldn't miss you for a few minutes, right? What was wrong with you?

How could you even think about having sex with Bangchan?

Three doors were closed, but the same one was open. You closed your eyes, believing you had time to give up. But your body didn't cooperate. You had to feed the heat coursing through your body, otherwise you'd burn up — and you couldn't let that happen.

The room was dark when you pushed open the door. Your eyes scanned the darkness until you found him sitting on the edge of the bed. Bangchan's gaze conveyed surprise. It was a shot in the dark. He didn't think you would come.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a charged silence that seemed louder than words. The dim light made everything sharper—the way his chest rose and fell, the way his eyes darkened as they lingered on you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, indecision clawing at you. Turning on your heel, you made a move to leave, but before you could take a full step, Bangchan’s hand wrapped around your wrist, firm yet electrifying.

“This is a dumb decision.”

"But here you are." Bangchan hesitated. The sight of your soft, cherry-painted lips looked so tempting that he could think of only one thing: devouring you. "Fuck it."

He reached back and clicked the door shut, the sound echoing in the heavy silence. You noticed the way his forearm flexed but quickly looked away, catching something else in his eyes instead—something raw, something dangerous.

“So,” he murmured, stepping closer, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “You know what?”

You swallowed hard, retreating step by step until your back hit the desk, the cool surface grounding you against the heat of his presence.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely steady. Holding his gaze felt impossible, especially when every nerve in your body screamed at you to close the gap.

But you didn’t move—not yet. Even though all you wanted was to tear down the distance and let the fire between you consume everything.

Bangchan’s hand found your stomach, his thumb brushing over the bare skin with maddening precision, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a ripple of heat through your body that settled low in your core.

Before you knew it, you were perched on the edge of the table, legs parted just enough to let him step between them. His presence filled the space around you, his confidence suffocating in the most infuriating way.

He took his time, gently touching your skin with his knuckles, brushing them over your arms, until he leaned forward and placed his lips on your jaw. The tingling sensation of his lips on your skin was like taking an opiate. You felt nothing and everything at the same time.

His breath fanned your skin as he kissed the spot just below your ear, drawing a soft gasp from you. He paused, his lips trailing to your jawline, and his voice, low and rough, broke the silence. "I wished it was you. With your pretty little mouth around me. Thinking about you made me come. So fucking hard."

A sob escaped your lips. The words were painful for your sore body. His tongue crawled over your chin. Bangchan held your face with one hand, making you stare into his eyes. Naked and raw. "You like that, hmm? D’ya like knowing that I think ‘bout you?” You wanted to fight back. You didn't want to let him dominate you.

“You're fucking ridiculous.”

Bangchan’s lips curled into that infuriatingly cocky smile, the one that set your nerves on fire.

 That's his girl. With a clever mouth.

“Yeah, is that so?” He sucked on your lip, pulling you to him in painstaking haste.

“Yes.” You moaned copiously. You hissed, though the conviction in your voice wavered as his hand slid up your thigh, slow and measured. His knuckles brushed the soft skin there, and the ache he left in your wake was unbearable. With his other hand, he circled your inner thigh, climbing achingly up to your cunt.

“I want you to say that again when I make you cum. Mmm, what ya say?” He murmured, his lips brushing your ear as his other hand settled firmly on your hip. A low laugh rumbled in his chest as a shaky moan slipped from yours, unbidden but impossible to hold back. 

His hand inched higher, and you fought to keep your composure, though the heat pooling low in your stomach made it a losing battle.

“I fuckin' hate you.” you spat, though your breathless tone robbed it of any real venom.

“We'll see about that.”

His words were a promise, cocky and assured, and without leaving room for an answer, he devoured your mouth with devotion. Both bodies undulated against each other, desperate for friction, for warmth. Bangchan spread your thighs, pushing you backwards. It was so intense that your back was arching over, the two of you battling for control.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim. His hands moved with purpose, gripping your thigh and pulling you closer as his body pressed into yours, the heat between you like a live wire. The table groaned beneath you as he guided you back, his palm sliding up to part your legs further, making room for him to settle between them.

Your back arched against the cool surface, the contrast of heat and cold heightening every sensation. His lips left yours only to trail down your jaw, his breath hot and uneven as it ghosted over your skin. The tension in the air was suffocating, an unspoken challenge lingering between each frantic touch.

It was a fight neither of you was willing to lose, and yet, the way his hands moved, the way his lips devoured, it was clear he wasn’t about to let you win.

Your hands reached for the sweatshirt on his broad, muscular shoulders and tossed it to the floor. The gap between kisses was long enough for you to lift your own top and rip it off eagerly. You could have sworn you heard an almost beastly growl emanating from Bangchan, something completely charged with lust.

A large, calloused hand grabbed your throat, making you choke. His finger pressed against your lip, which you licked religiously, giving him a taste of what was coming. Bangchan pressed your body until you collided with the wall and your hands clung to the rim of the table. And in due time he nibbled your tit, snaking his tongue around it, savoring the tenderness of your skin.

You bit your lip down and held back a moan. Your gut rippled like the ocean waves as the intoxicating rush grew in your belly, down your legs, and scorched your toes.

You felt his hand come close to your wet core and your whole body went on alert. Bangchan bit your nipple and looked at you only to see the girl with her lips wide open, eyes bright and flushed cheeks.

This sight could kill him.

Just as he was about to come to your lips again, a knock sounded at the door. You instinctively ducked behind him, your heart hammering in your chest "Oops, sorry man!" The boy's voice echoed through the room, and with a snap, the door slammed shut.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you—not from what was happening, but the brief panic of being caught. It was ridiculous, but the sensation gripped you harder than you’d like to admit.

"Shit, I’ll lock it."

Biting your lip at the image of the man walking to the door and then to you. His lips swollen from kissing your body, the marks of nails on his chest, his messy hair, it was a perfect match.

"You know what, I'm rethinking the whole pant thing. Maybe I'll fuck you in 'em." Before he could finish, you cupped his face in both hands, stopping him in his tracks. His eyebrow quirked in interest, a silent question hanging in the air.

“I just remembered,” you said with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “A few minutes ago, you were, well... y'know. Right there.”

You both glanced toward the corner of the room, the absurdity of the situation hitting you at the same time. And, with a shared moment of clarity, laughter bubbled out of you, the tension briefly breaking.

"Right.'" He captured your mouth. Bangchan said, that familiar cocky smirk now full force. “I can fuck you anywhere,” he kissed you again, and then you lost your breath. "the backseat of my car," Again a kiss. "Any fucking place. But we can start here."

In a daze, you clung to each other like two animals. Every second you begged for air, he devoured your mouth more and more. His nimble hands fought against your pants. He wanted to touch you, to feel you.

Growling, he added. "Lift your hips for me."

You, overtaken by lust, quickly bent down on the table so that he could unbutton your pants and pull them all the way down, past your boots, which also reached down to the other side of the bedroom.

Bangchan held the back of your knees and marveled at the sight of your bare body. It was like a damn mirage. The skimpy pink panties were nothing, showing all your dampness. There was no trace of embarrassment on your face, just an unbridled urge to be taken by him.

Absorbed to your body, Bangchan held your neck with both of his hands, this time tilting your body backwards. With his own body, he splayed your legs with his free hand. Your intimacies were bare, your body bathed in the dim light streaming through the nearby window.

He captured your mouth and ran his fingers over the cloth. He squeezed his fingertips against your clit, making your clenched teeth grind together. Feeling his hand around your nape of the neck, the lack of oxygen in your lungs and the short circuit from the friction of his hand down there was electrical.

Bangchan wriggled over the fabric in slow, painful circular motions. He was excruciatingly hard inside the sweatpants. He wanted to take off and make a mess of you, but first he wanted to relish every second and push you to the limit.

"My God." Words slipped from your lips, preaching to the divine, as you felt yourself being ravished.

Bangchan stretched the fabric and stroked the core with his fingers, wetting them without caring. How he looked at you, how he looked at your tight pussy was erotic. The noises you made when he slid his fingers through your labia and then threatened to push in two fingers at the one time. It was the sensation near death. You could feel an orgasm coming gradually, in heavy, lusty waves.

If he didn't stop teasing you, you'd come too fast.

"Hang in there, baby." He brushed a finger across your lips, sliding them into your warm, wet mouth. Everything was intensified by the endearing pet name. You got proof that the rumors were true. "Spread for me... Like that." You raised your legs and placed your feet on the table, giving him a full view of your body.

You could feel the wetness everywhere. Bangchan took two fingers in your mouth and let you suck them like a piece of candy. Without taking your eyes off him for a second, you went along with it.

"Good girl."

And with the same fingers, he delved into you. His fingers in the precise curl, in the precise place that made you cry out. And if the music hadn't been deafening, everyone at the party would have heard you moaning under his fingers.

By sucking on your lower lip, he began a unique rhythm. According to the rhythm of your body snaking around him, Chan went harder and faster. Your lips opened impulsively, flowing under his. Wide-eyed, your face froze into an ethereal feature, fogged with bliss.

You took hold of his wrist, the hand in which he was thrusting into you, and forced him to go faster. You desperately wanted - needed - to reach the body-rattling orgasm. It was already becoming impossible to hide the screams that tore from your throat. He was just very skilled at doing it and left you craving more.

“Bangchan...” A pitying look on your face made him break out into a maniacal smirk. To hear his own name coming from your mouth was like a narcotic being shot into his veins. He wanted better, he wanted you to realize what you had done to him.

Letting go of your throat, which until then had been under his grasp, Bangchan got down on his knees and dived into your pussy. You groped your hand to stop yourself from bawling. Your raw nerves were on edge and any more stimulation would make you burst. But he was relentless. With his savvy tongue, he outlined movements on your clit, leaving your moistness to rub through his lips and all over your core.

“Shit, shit, shit...” You purred. Suddenly, holding onto the dark strands of the boy in front of you, bringing your body closer, provoking more friction. Bangchan took advantage of every second, kissing and suckling your vulnerable flesh, swirling around your core and tongue teasing your insides.

You were rolling on his face. Sweat trickled down your spine and temples. Incoherent utterances came from your lips as muffled moans tore from Bangchan's deep throat. That pain was building, growing in your stomach. Your body was moving in an illogical way and Bangchan had to place his palm on your lower stomach to keep you from moving.

And that's when, with his mouth still on your cunt, he pinched your clit, making you seize up. The orgasm struck you hard, spewing electric waves throughout your body, leaving you sluggish and weak. Bangchan kept hold of your body as you fell apart, an disembodied vision.

You cried out his name as you came and he made you swallow every single moan.

“Mmm, you're so fucking hot when you cum for me.”

You sat on the edge again, spreading Chan's arm muscles. Looking down, you caught yourself wondering at the sight of his hard cock framing the edge of his pants like a carving, too beautiful to just look at.

Your hands went down to the edge of the white sweatpants he was still wearing - quite unfair, given that you were only wearing a pair of panties that were now barely fit for anything. A cocky smile hung on the man's lips. He enjoyed it with his hands on the table as you took it off, gawping at the size of it. The girth. The form. It was surreal.

Bangchan was holding back. He'd dreamt of having your hands and mouth around his cock for a very long time. And now, you were there, stroking him back and forth, in a slow, excruciating rhythm. He could let you have a taste and get on your knees to him. He'd fuck your mouth so relentlessly that you'd never have another smart-ass word for him. You'd always remember that one moment.

But he was overwhelmed by the mirage of your body and the sounds it caused in you.

“Oh, fuck.” A guttural moan broke from his lips. With his mouth open, he looked at where you were fucking him, your soft hand stroking his length. It was too much. He wasn't going to last. “I need you to stop.”

“Why?”

Chan squeezed your thighs together, hating himself for not feeling your touch where he needed it most.

“As much as I want you on your knees for me, I really need to fuck you.”

You chewed your lip, sensing the heat coming back to your face and your core. "Save that pretty little mouth for next time. Yeah?"

Next time. The phrase lingered in your head, leaving you with a queasy feeling in your gut.

With one hand, he spread your legs and held your leg up high enough for him to have the reach he needed to make you come a second time. That was his trick. He knew what he was doing too well, and you loathed him for it.

“Chan...” You whimpered. He grunted and brought your bodies together. He held the shaft of his own cock and stroked it for a few seconds before brushing the tip against your slit. You gasped for air at the feeling. "Please. Chan." You pleaded, searching his eyes. It was too much of a torture and you wouldn't be able to bear it if he wasn't fast.

“Fuck, don't do it like that...” He whined, still thrusting into your hole with his own cock. “Fucking Christ.” Your wetness made him slide between the clit and the slit. Your eyes went wide, collapsing. Meanwhile, Chan was glued to the point where you connected.

Slowly, he slipped in. A moan in unison reverberated almost in praise.

He knew it wouldn't last long. Being deep inside you was driving him insane. You were making him slip, making the movements clumsy but so delicious. Bangchan pressed down on your calf, pinning it to his chest. You leaned over, holding onto his shoulder. The sight was like a fucking movie scene.

You entwined as one.

Bangchan took his time to lengthen his movements, first because he could feel every inch of your pussy swallow him up. It was so fucking good. He nibbled his lip tightly, gliding in a little more, causing you to whimper.

“Faster.” Pleas burst from your ruined lips.

“Fuuuuck.” Bangchan upped the pace, a frantic and luscious back and forth. “You're fuckin' surreal.”

He could have been saying anything, but your brain was thawing, your body morphing. Being stuffed until his balls hit your skin was opulent. Their bodies met halfway, each moving as fast as possible to get themselves there. Bangchan had to hold onto the table to avoid a hole in the wall. The furniture kept bouncing in line with your bodies.

The rapturous feeling fills you and takes you to the edge. What was left of the room was a mess of panting and skin on skin. Your hips rode the width of him. He was falling to pieces little by little, feeling his body combust.

From the way his veins seemed more prominent and thicker, his neck stiff, his sweat accentuating his smooth skin, you could tell. You rocked your body vigorously back and forth, giving him deep, dry thrusts. Bangchan then reached a point set aside to take you to heaven.

When the groans dared escape your lips, he devoured them, one by one, eating up the pleas, his name coming out of your mouth like a holy prayer that only he would hear. That was enough time for your body to succumb to the fierce orgasm and for Bangchan to pull out, thrusting with his own hand and letting go on your sweat-damp stomach.

You were still hanging on to his shoulder, trying to find your feet. Both panting and with your eyes closed, you seemed to recover some consciousness. His eyes were still clouded with desire, in a hue you had never yet witnessed.

“Well,” you said between chuckles. “I think you've just proved your point.”

Bangchan laughed and then helped you up from the desk. Your clothes were scattered around the room, your boots under a stranger's bed. You cleaned up and dressed. Make-up was intact, but your hair was a tangled mess. He watched from the corner of his eye as he put on his own underwear.

After a brief fix in the mirror, you turned around a little awkwardly, as if he hadn't just given you the best sex of your entire life.

“So, I'm going out first... Just in case... You know, anyone sees me.”

In fairness, he was quite taken aback. He hadn’t expected what had just happened to mean anything to you, but there was a part of him—just a sliver—that hoped it might shift your perspective. The realization stung his pride, but he masked it, keeping the quiet frustration buried deep inside.

"Yeah. Whatever."

You shot him a glance, your expression unreadable. "All right. Well, I guess... that’s it. I’ll see you around."

Your smile was soft, but there was an undertone of something more—a knot in your chest that wouldn’t let go. He nodded, his face as impassive as ever, his eyes giving nothing away.

With a soft exhale, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, eyes squeezed shut.

What the fuck had you just done?

[micer2012]

a reflection on MatPat's plagiarism

Hello, my name is Della, or micer2012, and 2 years ago Game Theory plagiarized three Tumblr posts of mine, making a video that now holds almost 6 million views.

My posts explaining his plagiarism made their rounds on Reddit, Tumblr and Twitter, but despite the Hermits and Pooka commenting on it (generally in support of me or saying they don’t know enough details about the situation to say either way), MatPat and his team have never owned up to anything, and no mention of my name is present on the video. The one Reddit post they made denying it (which was made before my detailed takedown, which they have never responded to (though the mods on the r/GameTheorists Reddit were kind and made sure it stayed up)) didn’t even mention me by name, just referring to me as “a tumblr user”. (Though one of the screenshotted comments in the body of the post does say my name)

This experience was baffling, but it’s overall had a positive impact on my life. r/Hermitcraft gave me a Golden Apple Award (post of the year, 2021). My inbox was filled with excited fans, wanting to ask me questions or pose their own theories, far more than the hate I got. (Though the hate I got from Game Theory fans was VERY funny. I wondered why none of them gave me shit about saying “MatPat misgendered Evil Xisuma” before realizing none of them read that far into the post.)

And getting on a more personal, and much more important note, I met most of my current online friends through this, including my partner. It helped me grow closer with my irl friends as well and gave me an entertaining story that I tell whenever I have the chance. It was one of the first things in my life that really made me feel like my talents, my autistic hyperfocusing and analyzing of things I love, could be valuable. Useful. Exploitable. It blew my mind that MatPat thought an autistic kid’s ramblings about a Minecraft Youtube joke character were good enough to steal. To put an audible sponsorship on. To get 6 million views off of.

And that’s why I’m writing this post, this update years later. As you might’ve been able to guess, Hbomberguy’s Youtube video on plagiarism reopened this wound. It was really hard for me to sit through, it took days of pausing and taking breaks, because I had experienced everything he was talking about firsthand. 

In my 10 page long takedown post, I wrote about how his rewording of my sentences made him say things that were incorrect, just like Filip did. The content farm production style that made big companies like Cinemassacre take one creator (AVGN/MatPat) and turn him and his content into a brand, a voice that reads out scripts by other people with other opinions/theories, is a history shared with Game Theory. What really hit me was Harris talking about how big creators only do this to people they think they can get away with doing it to. How they view their victims as lesser, as not deserving of their words, repackaging them as their own to give to an audience that can gain from hearing them, but deserves better than to have to listen to the original victim.

That’s the thing, I 100% think a video version of my theory to expose to a bigger community than “Evil Xisuma Fans on Tumblr” is a great idea!! Near the end of the video Harris talks about how video adaptations of things could be a great market, even an accessibility tool, and I completely feel that about my posts. I wrote them quickly assuming the reader was someone well versed on Evil Xisuma lore, after not even watching most of the CarnEvil series, and the diagrams I made to explain them are even less comprehensible. Harris makes a joke that I completely agree with, 

“I’m sure some of my videos would do very well if someone translated them into English.”

I don’t think I would’ve ever made my posts if I didn’t have autism, and a special fixation on Evil Xisuma and Hermitcraft. I made them because I felt the character was being done an injustice, and because I wanted to share with other superfans this theory that might explain it away. I do think that MatPat plagiarizing me was ableist. I used to wonder a lot if this would’ve happened if my posts were articulated better, if they had been peer reviewed, if the posts themselves had been spread to a wider audience before MatPat made his video. At one point when the discourse was fresh (before I had the time to write out my 10 page rebuttal), a bigger YouTuber (100k subs at the time) messaged me and started talking on Discord, interested in possibly making a video on the discourse, but I think my style of typing and general enthusiasm drove him away. You can tell by a single look at my blog (or my original 3 posts!) that I don’t usually type like this. This post you’re reading now has been peer reviewed and edited, and took me hours to format correctly. That video could’ve been huge, the entire outcome of this MatPat situation would probably be much different.

I also used to stress a lot about “being the one who ruined Evil Xisuma’s story”. If you didn’t know, to me S8 Evil Xisuma’s story got wrapped up pretty quickly and unsatisfying (in my personal autistic opinion). (though this might’ve been due to s8 being experimental and ending early with moon big) There was no real culmination of the plot points and arcs going on, and I don’t want to blame myself, but when Xisuma said on stream (when the MatPat thing was first going on) that he didn’t want to focus on the discourse or draw more attention to it, it makes a lot of sense to me that he just wanted to wrap it all up as quickly as possible. For a while I beat myself up about it, of ruining the story of this character I love, but it’s not my fault. If anyone’s, it’s MatPats, but I don’t think it’s useful to just blame someone else. That’s how the story ended up going, and that’s fine. This is Evil Xisuma we’re talking about, their inconsistent lore is what made them such an interesting character. And notably, Pooka made an animation with an awesome culmination of Jeff, the Dreamer, Evil Xisuma, and his own sona’s story, and it makes me so happy to watch. Whatever Pooka does is of course his own choice, but I’m glad he got to give this personal story his own ending (if it is an ending, and not just the start of a new chapter!). 

Typing this all out and getting it off my chest has made me feel a lot better. For a while I wanted to make my OWN video essay about Evil Xisuma’s lore and CarnEvil’s lore, actually going episode by episode to explain it instead of just assuming you knew as much about Evil Xisuma as I did. That idea is still not off the table, but MCYT isn’t something I’m that into right now. Maybe if something else comes out about Evil Xisuma I’ll get back on it, but for now I’m fine with letting that go. But I want to make other videos, share other theories and analysis… if I have the freetime I’d love to make YouTube videos, and if I don’t have the time I’ll continue posting to my tumblr and infodumping to my friends. Apparently my infodumping is valuable enough “content” to steal! Writing this out has made me feel a lot better though, I’m really glad I got it out.

If anyone ever wants to talk to me about the things I’m obsessed with, or reach out to me as a source in a bigger discussion about Game Theory or other channels, my inbox is more than welcome :] Thank you for reading! 

Sincerely, a tumblr user.

[eufezco]

A FRESH START 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

synopsis — after leaving wakanda, bucky starts to rediscover who he is while living with you, slowly bulding a new life. his dispair deepens and you offer him a fresh start with a simple act: cutting his hair.

angst. fluff

—you have to stop thinking that every time something good is happening to you it's because something worse is on the way. that´s not a way to live, buck —. you said softly, your voice steady but with a hint of concern.

bucky shook his head, running a hand over his face as a sign of desperation. if only he could remember what life felt like before hydra took him, before all those wasted years. after so long he was still trying to figure it out, still trying to find a version of himself that didn’t feel like a stranger. trying to get used to his new life in the city, far from the peace he had known in wakanda. all these sudden changes only made him more confused and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to adjust, it was that he didn’t know how.

it had been a almost a year since bucky had moved in with you, since you had defeated thanos and steve had left. when the dora milaje declared him ready to live a normal life, bucky stood there, unsure of what that even meant. he had no place to go. louisiana crossed his mind for a moment, sam had always extended an open invitation but the thought of intruding on sam’s family life stopped him, and steve was gone, something he chose not to think much about, so for the first time in over a century, bucky was truly on his own.

except he wasn’t. you were there.

when you found out he needed a place, you didn’t think about it twice. he resisted at first. ayo told him you were the right person to star building his new life. you trust her, you trust her more than you admit. that is where you begin. trust. she is the right person to help you build this new life, james.

and he couldn't remember what you two had shared before hydra took him, before everything fell apart but there was a pull. by the things steve told him, you three were best friends once, inseparable. he spoke of nights you spent laughing, of how he’d head home early, leaving you and bucky behind, knowing that bucky would arrive later, with a big smile on his lips. steve chuckled when he mentioned your lipstick, smeared on bucky’s mouth when he finally made it back. you never wiped it off, you wore it like a badge of honor.

bucky tried to imagine it, those moments of joy but the memories never came. but he could still feel it. he felt it that day in wakanda, when you arrived with steve and natasha to fight thanos. you smiled at him, just a brief moment in the chaos, but it stayed with him. there was something so familiar about that smile, something warm and he felt it too every time you visited him or sent him what had once been his favorite sweets, little reminders of a life he no longer remembered but somehow still carried with him.

so, he showed up at your door a few days later, a bag hung over his shoulder and a sad look in his eyes. he didn't try to argue this time. —you sure about this?

you didn’t hesitate. —absolutely.

living with bucky was easy. he was quiet, he didn't need much space. after months, he started making it his place too, little by little. he left his shoes by the door beside yours, the book he picked up from one of your shelves appeared on the coffee table, his leather jacket draped over the back of a chair.

—it's not that easy —. he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

you watched him. —i know it’s not, —you said softly, stepping closer to him. —but you don’t have to do it all at once. no one expects that from you.

he shook his head again. —feels like they do, —he said, his blue eyes looking directly into yours. you could see the sadness and the guilt of the moments he couldn’t take back. —feels like every time i mess up, it’s just proof that i don’t belong here. as if this life was not made for me —his voice was low, barely more than a murmur. —what if the only thing i'm good at is killing?

you took a deep breath. it was hard to hear him say that, to see the man you’d known before hydra, who was your best friend and the love of your life, now drowning in self-doubt and guilt. —you’re more than what they made you.

—am i? because that’s all i’ve ever done. all i know how to do.

—but it’s not who you are, it’s what they forced you to be. the fact that you’re even asking this? that you’re fighting to be someone better? that’s proof enough that that wasn't you at all.

he closed his eyes tightly and ran his hands through the long strands of his hair. for a moment, you just stood there, watching him. you wanted to pull him back from whatever dark place his thoughts had taken him, but you hesitated, ayo told you to do so, to let him space to feel this, to fight against it, even if it hurt.

—i can still feel him inside my head, i can hear his thoughts. he's not gone.

bucky’s fingers suddenly grabbed the roots of his hair with a little more force. his breathing grew faster, his hands shook and his eyes squeezed shut. you couldn't see how deep his pain was and not do anything to stop him from hurting himself.

you stepped closer. —bucky, hey… —your hands sneaked into his hair, softly pulling his grip from his scalp. his hands were trembling, and for a moment, there was resistance in him like he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of the only thing he could hold onto. but your touch was soft, familiar and something shifted, almost imperceptible, but you could feel the tension in him loosen.

—the bucky i knew isn’t gone. he’s still in there. i see him every time you fight for something good, every time you try to make amends, every time you care about the people around you, about me.

his shoulders fell, and his head hung low, he didn’t want you to see him like this, weak and broken. but you had seen him in his darkest moments as the winter soldier and you had experienced thanos taking him away from you with the blip. the years without him had been a painful, you thought you lost him forever. yet there he was, standing before you, alive, and you weren’t about to let him go again.

your hands gently moved to push the back of his head, guiding him to rest his forehead on your shoulder. he was still a bit unsure about how to handle this type of physical contact, used to years of torture, where touch always meant pain, control, or something to fear. now you held him close to your body, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

—why don’t i cut your hair?

—cut my hair?

—yeah, it´ll help you to see yourself in a different way. a fresh start.

bucky pulled back a little, he wasn’t sure if you were joking. —you think cutting my hair will fix everything?

you smiled softly, you wished it could be that easy. —no, —you admitted. —but ayo told your new life will be built on small things.

bucky sighed.

the idea of letting go parts of himself that tied him to the winter soldier felt like a whole world. first, it was his metal arm, the one with the red star, when tony ripped it off of him, bucky felt relieved, like tony was cutting one of the heads of the hydra to end the monster. in wakanda, he learned to live using only his flesh-and-blood arm until they gave him a new one which he only intended to use for good.

and now you were asking to cut his hair.

—ayo did say that, didn’t she? —he murmured, almost to himself.

—she’s a smart woman and besides, it’s just a haircut. if you hate it, it’ll grow back.

a small smile appeared in his lips. —if it ends up bad, i’m blaming you.

you took a chair from the kitchen to the bathroom and he sat down in front of the mirror. bucky stared at his reflection as he pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed. he didn't like mirrors, he avoided them as much as he could. he didn't like the person staring back at him, he didn't know who that man was and now sitting on that chair there was no escape.

there was a difference this time. next to one of the things he most hated to look at—his reflection—was one of the things he liked the most to look at—you.

his blue eyes moved from his reflection to yours. you stood behind him and ran your hands gently through his hair. he felt that familiar tickle in his stomach, the one he first felt almost a century ago and that, even after all the years, it hadn't gone away.

he felt it every morning when you entered the kitchen, hair a mess from sleep, mumbling a soft “good morning” to him. he felt it when he came home in the evenings and dinner was ready and you were sitting at the table, waiting for him. he felt it most when you would fell asleep on the couch and he had to carry you to your bed, careful not to wake you. and you'd ask him in your sleep to stay, and he'd freeze, he wanted to say yes, he wanted to stay. but he couldn’t risk it, his nightmares were still too real. so bucky would gently place you in your bed, making sure you were well tucked in, and whisper, i’ll be in my room, if you need anything.

—are you ready? —you asked him, bringing him back from his thoughts. you already had the scissors in your hand and bucky shifted in the chair at the sight of them. —it'll be okay, buck.

—feels like more than just a haircut.

you nodded, understanding. —well, that's what we wanted, isn't it?

bucky swallowed and nodded.

—why don't you close your eyes? i'll let you know when i'm done.

with a deep breath, he did as you said. your lips curved into a small smile even though he could no longer see you. you were aware of all the progress he had made. you knew he trusted you with his heart because on no other occasion he would willingly keep his eyes closed with someone standing behind him, scissors in hand and when your hands rested on his shoulders, he hadn’t flinched at the contact.

—okay, i'll start.

with his eyes closed it was much easier to feel the delicacy with which you treated him. the way your fingers combed through his scalp and then the sound of the scissors, followed by the sensation of the strands falling and taking with them the weight he had carried for so long. and you talked, about anything that crossed your mid so he did not feel that he was in danger or he had to be alert at any time.

—maybe we could get a cat, —you said. —i think it’d be nice. do you think you’d be a good cat parent?

—maybe —. he said after a pause. —i definitely prefer a cat to a dog.

you switched to the clippers, you left the hair at the top of his head a little longer, while the rest of it was cut shorter. a very chic haircut for someone born in 1917. you carefully checked that his hair was even and then you styled it with your fingers.

—okay, i'm done, you can open your eyes.

bucky hesitated for a moment, then opened his eyes. your breath caught in surprise as you watched him take in the sight of himself. it was like having the bucky you once knew staring right at you through the mirror. his features were the same, just a bit more more defined and mature.

he felt the same relief as when tony ripped off the metal arm that hydra embedded in his body, like a part of him that had once been used against him, now freed. he turned his head slowly to both sides to get a better look and to be honest, he liked his new look. physically, he could see the resemblance to the man in the photos you had shown him, the young soldier who smiled to you, in love.

—how do you feel? i think it suits you —. you asked gently.

bucky nodded. —i like it —. he caught your gaze in the mirror. the eye contact was so intense that you had to look away. you cleared your throat, hoping to ease the tension, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

—alright, come on, —you tapped his shoulder for him to stand up. — i'm going to sweep your hair off the floor.

bucky got up from the chair and turned his head to look at you, not through the mirror this time, but directly, and the sudden closeness made your breath hitch. —thank you for doing this.

—you don't need to thank me, buck. i'm glad it turned out well, it was my first time doing it.

—you sure about that? —he asked—it doesn’t feel like it was your first time.

you laughed, still avoiding his gaze. —guess we got lucky, then.

there was a silence; you were both too close, but not close enough yet. bucky’s eyes moved to your lips for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your heart race. you could both feel the tension, an invisible string pulling you toward each other, daring one of you to close the gap. you didn’t want to take the first step, you didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t ready for, the last thing you wanted was to break the fragile trust he’d built with you.

you opened your mouth to say something but he talked first.

—can i kiss you? —his voice was low, almost shy.

you were surprised because you didn't expected him to ask so directly, but consent was so important to him. he spent too many years under someone else’s control, forced into actions that weren’t his own, and now he was determined never to cross those lines. it wasn’t just about asking to kiss you, it was about making sure that you were comfortable, that you wanted this just as much as he did.

—yeah, —you whispered —you can.

bucky stepped closer, his flesh-and-blood hand reaching to cup your cheek, his fingers gently brushing against your skin. he leaned in, his movements careful, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you leaned into him instead, your lips finally meeting his.

he felt strange. he had wanted to kiss you for what felt like forever, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to do next. his mind raced, trying to remember how this was supposed to go. he forgot about kissing, forgot about the rhythm of it, the give and take. his hand slipped from your cheek to fall awkwardly at his side as he pulled away from your lips just enough just to say:

—i don't... i don't remember how to do this.

—it's okay. you're doing just fine. there’s no right or wrong way. just… follow me.

this time, when your lips met, you moved slowly, guiding him. his tension disappeared as he mirrored your movements, his right hand returned to your cheek, the other, his metal one, moved to hold your hips. it wasn’t perfect, the movements of his lips were still hesitant, but there was something honest about the way he kissed you.

as he kissed you, bucky became more aware of his body and where his hands were and realized that his metal hand was resting lightly on your waist. he pulled the hand away quickly. —i'm sorry, i didn't mean to...

you shook your head, one of your hands flew to the back of his neck to connect your lips while your other one grabbed his vibranium arm and guided his hand to where it was before. as the kiss deepened, you felt him relax, stop worrying about whether he was doing it right or wrong, about the touch of his cold hand on your skin, and he just kissed you.

you hummed before parting ways. his cheeks were flushed, his lips were a bit swollen and glossy, his breathing a little uneven and you couldn't help a little laugh from escaping your lips.

—okay, now you're just laughing at me.

—you're so cute, buck.

[dcxdpdabbles]

So an idea if you want to use it (sorry if it is long-)

I was reading a fic where Jazz, Danny, Dan and Dani(Ellie) were trasnported in Gotham but the twist? they are children

Jazz is 10

Dan and Danny are 5

And Ellie is a 1 year baby

So what if....

Jazz becames a vigilante by accident (bc she killed the Joker when he was teatening her siblings) and they decide to hide in Wayne manor. why? well bc is the only place where is "safe" also bc Danny and Dan wanted to invade an Fruitloop mansion (only Alfred and Duke knows theyre there-)

But the best part? All the Fentom sibling are children of Bruce Wayne (just think abt it-)

I think the fic you're talking about is Alfred and the Tiny Attic Squatters! I highly recommend it for those who haven't read it, especially for the interactions between Jazz and Damian. My version of this prompt isn't be as good as this fic, but I hope you enjoy it!

Wayne Manor is a large estate. It is a seven-story building with seventy rooms within the one hundred and fifty acres owned by the Waynes. It had three pools, the largest outside and the smaller indoor pools on the third and seventh floors. Two helipads were on top of the west and main wings.

They were no longer traditional wings but an interconnected section built under Master Thomas' watchful eye. He wanted the Manor to be one massive unit, discarding the social barriers previous heads of the family had wished to create with the buildings.

Although the East wing was seven floors, it was initially the servant's chambers, the West was visiting for guests that were not quite important enough to be within the inner circle of the Waynes, and the Main one, the most elegant of them all, where the Waynes lived, and occasionally hosted the most important members of high society.

Master Thomas made it a project to upgrade every inch of the Manor to ensure it had the latest modern delights. He took that opportunity to build hallways connecting the wings, making them as important as the Main.

However, the servants had been so used to describing the grounds in the old manner that Master Thomas could not stop people from referring to the wings regardless of his good intentions.

When Alfred was hired, he was one of the twenty butlers employed by Master Thomas. There were the twenty maids, the ten chiefs, and the three groundskeepers.

The large estate was never without noise or the people moving about. Someone was always there, all proud to work for the kindhearted doctor and his philanthropist wife. Alfred had only applied for the position because, at the time, he had not been handling losing his entire team well.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Their last hurra towards the war's end, but the tensions at the borders had been underreported, and Alfred had been the only solider among the seven-man team to make it back from the front lines. The guilt was so heavy that he could not join his countrymen in celebration, drowning his sorrows in whatever bottle he could find.

Alfred tried for a few years to live as a civilian again, but every night, his teammate's screams haunted him. Soon, he could not stand being in England, not even to watch the country rebuild.

He had run from Her Majesty's service, run from his duties as a father, and run from his home. Somehow, he found himself working on various boats, working to buy his next bottle as a boat hand. One of those boats Master Thomas had boarded.

Alfred had just been informed he was fired for being caught drunk on the job too many times when he stumbled by Master Thomas' room. The crew would wait till they docked in America before throwing him off the ship. He had not meant to press his ear to the man's door, but the swaying of the boat and drunken balance had ended up with him leaning on the wood to stay upright.

That's how he overhears Master Thomas' choked cries for help. Alfred had burst through the door, startling a man with wire wrapped around Master Thomas' neck.

An assassin had been sent to kill the young Wayne heir so his company would be broken up among unworthy cousins. Alfred's training had kicked in, and despite being so sloshed he was seeing doubles, the Englishman had defeated the would-be killer.

Master Thomas was so grateful that he offered him a job at the manor. Alfred had agreed since he had no other plan, figuring he would drink his way to his grave on the nobleman's coin.

Years later, no matter how often Master Thomas insisted Alfred saved his life, he knew it was the other way around. His boss had turned into a trusted friend, who pried the bottles from his hand, forced him to write to his daughter, and taught him to live once more.

Many whispered rumors of a love affair between the two, but Alfred never let it bother him. None of them knew Master Thomas as he did.

None of them understood the man loved the world with his entire heart, was so good that the idea of caring for someone just to get them into bed never crossed his mind, or that if sunshine could be personified, it would take the shape of Thomas Wayne.

Alfred was just one among the fifty-three employees, but he foolishly felt a part of the family anyway. They all did. Master Thomas could make anyone feel like a beloved cousin, and when he brought home Mistress Martha, well, the family had just gotten bigger.

The little paddle of Master Bruce's footsteps added to the noise and warmth of the manor. It was as if his birth filled a hole they had not known needed filling.

Wayne Manor was a large estate, but it never made anyone feel small within its grounds. Alfred devoted himself to ensuring everything was in top shape for his friend, becoming the head buttler when the last one retired and came to care for Master Bruce in his upbringing. The world was bright and joyful, and Alfred felt like he believed in hope once more.

Then, Master Thomas and Mistress Martha were killed.

All at once, the Wayne Manor fell silent. Master Bruce was far too young to manage his estate. His shares in the company passed to his uncle- a man Alfred detested greatly- his employee's pay cut off. Many of the servants attempted to remain for free, but it soon became apparent they could not survive without an income.

One by one, they vanished, the wings sealed shut upon their departure. Only Alfred remains loyal to the boy with Master Thomas' eyes but no longer with his spark.

Something broke inside of Master Bruce that day. Something that would lead to Batman would consume his every thought and soul. Alfred feared the boy would join his parents if he, too, left for England, leaving him to his uncle and the suddenly too-large house he once called home.

Wayne Manor was far too large for only two people. Alfred hated the way his footsteps echoed whenever he walked through the two wings because with Master Bruce remaining in the Main wing, there was no other sound except for Alfred.

He was alone. Again.

Alfred moved into the Main wing three months later, knowing he would go mad if he stayed in the East wing. The West Wing fell out of use when Master Bruce became obsessed with fighting crime and no longer allowed guests to spend the night.

Even years later, when Master Bruce used his playboy persona to hide his night activities, he never opened the two large wooded doors into the other wings. The parties were always in the Main Wing and had an end time. If a guest did stay, Alfred had a room in nearby rooms to the ballrooms ready.

When Master Dick was brought in, Alfred had put the lad on the seventh floor of the Main wing alongside Master Bruce. He then filled up the rooms downwards for all the following children. Alfred lived on the second floor of the Main wing, his room far back from the stairway, content with the thumps of the children overhead as they walked to and fro the manor.

He could not bring himself to unseal the wings. Not even when the children asked about the large double doors, always closed shut. The silence was a haunting reminder of the alley that took away the personification of sunshine.

Secretly, Alfred believed Master Bruce felt the same, so he never ordered the butler to open them. The children no doubt walk through the wings- one could not be a crime-fighting partner to Batman without breaking some unspoken rules- but there was nothing of interest.

Only furniture covered in cloth and empty rooms that held the shards of Alfred's broken heart. A part of life slowly forgotten in the wake of devastation. After a curious walk-through, the children never bothered with the two wings again.

Or at least Alfred believed them to become bored.

He was unsure why Master Damian, Master Duke, Master Tim, or Miss Cass would want to enter the East Wing after so many years. Yet here he stood, feather duster in hand, feeling shocked to see those doors again open.

Alfred had just been doing his bi-monthly dusting of the less used rooms of the Main wing when he noticed that the East wing door had been left slightly open. Someone had forgotten to close it properly, and the dust around the doorknob was noticeably thicker on one side than the other.

The lights in the hallway behind it were still shut off, dressing the other side of the door in shadows. Alfred could almost say the darkness was looming over him, taunting him with hurtful memories but calling to him all the same.

He had not crossed to the other wings since before Master Jason had been brought to the manor. Alfred had not been strong enough to survive hurtful members before, and his cowardness had led him to run from those wings.

Yet still, the darkness called.

Swallowing, the aged butler placed the feather duster down. He pulled out the smartphone Miss Steph insisted he owned to click on his flashlight. His gloved hands curl around the knob, his fingers starting to shake as he pulls.

The hinges creaked loudly, nearly downing out his shattering breath. It's noisy from the misuse, he knows, but it still feels like the Manor itself is accusing him of abandonment.

He nearly turns around right there, but he sees a slight glow at the far end of the wing. Smaller than the one on his phone, almost the stairway. It reminds him briefly of the glow-in-the-dark star stickers that Master Dick had placed in his room during the first few months of living in Gotham.

The lad had missed seeing the shine of the night sky.

Alfred's toes are right at the edge of the doorframe as he strains his eyes, trying to make out what the glow is. The shine moves around from the stairway, disappearing from sight, leaving him shining a light into the darkness of the old, empty hallway.

His feet move without much thought across the doorway as he stumbles- as silent as the night. Someone had taught Master Bruce, after all. He passes by white cloths dropped over furniture and empty walls- the painting had been moved to storage, the potted plants withered away years ago, and the vases either sold off by Master Bruce's uncle or lost in some place.

The air is musty, as Alfred had not bothered to clean or air this entire building out in years. His nose tickles from all the dust particles flying around as he swings his light carefully.

He stops just at the end of the stairway, eyes fixated on a window. A slightly open window, its glass unable to see through, but what really shocked him was the tiny handprint on the lower right panel.

It's the shape of a small child. The trail of footprints, outlined by the floors he long ago gave up on, is also that of a child's, leading towards the stairs and climbing them upwards. Alfred shuts off his light, pushing it into his pocket as he blindly uses the railing to guide him upwards.

The slight footprints do not go down hallways but keep going up and up until he's on the top floor and at the edge of the hallways where the master room of this wing is. Each floor at Wayne Manor, regardless of wing, houses three bedrooms.

The East Wing rooms are unique because they hold a sitting area, a small kitchen, and an ensuite bathroom. They were designed to make guests feel like they were staying in a luxury hotel so they would not feel snubbed for not being invited into the main wing.

They could be self-sustainable if they were not accompanied by servants.

Alfred could see the light turn on in the last room, hear various voices, and, most alarming, a blender was in use. He creeps closer, letting the noise of the machine mask his approach.

This door is slightly open as well. It was likely the same person who did not close the main entrance correctly. The crack in the wood is big enough he can peer through with one eye and not have his entire face in the open.

Alfred is stunned to find a young girl with red hair, no older than ten, standing at the counter fixing dinner. Master Bruce never shut off the wings' utilities merely because they were connected to the Main. The water, the heater, the light, and all of it were in use as the young girl let the blender stop, pouring a green drink into three cups.

She hums to herself, placing the glass into the sink. The redhead hops off the chair with an easy little twist of her feet, moving towards the wall oven and looking through the glass door.

"Pizza is almost ready!" She calls. Twin cheers pop up from Alfred's sight, but he doesn't have to wonder who released them for long before two tiny blurs rush into the kitchen.

A pair of young boys, likely twins based on their identical features, no older than five, press themselves against the oven. They have to stand on their toes to correctly see the pizza, but it does nothing to deter their excitement.

The little redhead girl pats the head of one of them on her way to the stove, pulling a milk bottle out of a pot on the stovetop. "Danny, can you bring Dani to me?"

Alfred wonders by the repeat of the name as the other little boy- the one she did not pat- steps away from the oven. He rushes out while the little girl tests the bottle's milk on her wrist. She seems satisfied with it just as the boy returns, pushing a baby stroller.

The girl reaches into the stroller, pulling out a tiny infant that could be no more than five months old. The child quickly has the baby latching on to the bottle with the ease of someone who's had practice.

"I made us some veggie drinks-" She starts, only to have both boys begin to whine. "-No buts! We need all the vegetables we can get to compensate for our small bodies. Lack of nutrition has played a severe role in us, and now that we've found a safe place to live, I'm going to feed us well."

"You sure you should be stealing from Bruce Wayne? It's not entirely safe to say he'll be understanding if we get caught," The other twin speaks up, sounding alarmingly too old for a five-year-old. Maybe they were older and were just small due to malnourishment, like the girl said?

"It's okay. We're been here a whole month, and no one even suspects. Besides, you know what Clockwork said. He is supposedly our biological father; even if he doesn't want anything to do with us, the least he can do is allow us this empty apartment."

"This is better than the car we lived in," The other child chirps "It even has a TV!"

"It's all old, but it works," The girl agrees with a smile, moving the bottle so the white liquid falls to the front. The baby is still slurping down the meal in soft gulps that can only come from hunger. "I'm grateful for the bathroom. I forgot what it felt like to be this clean. That reminds me, I will do our laundry in the tub later, so bring me all the dirty clothes you have."

Alfred retreats from the door, pressing his hand against his mouth. He needs to speak to Master Bruce. If the girl is wrong, if this Clockwork lied to them, they are still small children living in Wayne Manor for an entire month.

And none have been the wiser.

What if they are Master Bruce's children? What would Master Thomas say if he knew his grandchildren had been left to live on the streets for such prolonged malnourishment had stunned their growth?

Alfred all but runs the second he crosses the Wing doorway, mind whirling. He thinks it madness that has him bursting into Master Bruce's office because, for a second, he could have sworn the sunlight falling through Master Bruce's window was Master Thomas's smiling face.

"Alfred? What's wrong?"

"Sir, I believe we have unknown guests you should meet."

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - VERSION OF YOU

A/N: Inspired by the Deadpool and Wolverine trailer. Inaccurate things when it comes to timelines and shit. Beware, it was not edited properly. Sorry.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angsty?, attempt at being funny?

My stories are written for mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 2500+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - VERSION OF YOU

“Do you think this is gonna work?” 

“Agent Smith said it would.” 

“It’s fucking weird, you know?” 

“A lot of fucked up things happened before. This is nothing compared to what I have to deal with now. So, ladies first.”

Wade pointed at the weird-looking orange door. He didn’t want to walk through them first. That fucker shoved Y/N right into the portal before he took a step forward. Coward. 

They appeared in front of a dive bar, during a bright sunny day. Y/N looked at Wade, well, more like at his masked face. “Wasn’t this place supposed to be fucked up?” she asked. “It’s too nice outside.”

“It will become in a matter of hours. Now, here’s the plan,” he said. “We’ll go in. I’ll talk first. If I won’t move with that stubborn mountain of a man, it’s your turn. Do whatever it takes to bring him with us - smile at him, have sex with him, for all I care. And, who knows, maybe we will know whether Agent Smith was right.” 

“I call bullshit,” said Y/N, cracking her knuckles. “I don’t know him. I think it’s a fairy tale he made up so I would work with you,” she said, fixing her tactical suit. “Can’t believe I’m doing this shit with you, Wade.”

He chuckled. “Come on, you love spending time with me, kicking ass, making men suffer.” 

“I will make you suffer.”

Together, they approached the entrance door of the dive bar. Wade was the first one to walk in. During the day, there weren’t many people around. Some people gave them brief attention but quickly went back to their beers. Y/N glared at Wade. 

“Our guy is right there,” he said, pointing to the bar. 

And there he was - their target - the man they had to collect to save the universe. Was it the universe or the multiverse? Whatever it was, he was crucial for this mission. 

Y/N eyed his back - the dark jacket he wore and how bent he was over the bar. The sadness radiated from him. Something was happening inside her. As if she experienced a magnetic pull towards him.

Y/N showed Wade forward to start. She was curious to see the man’s reaction. She sat at a nearby table ready to watch the scene unfold. Of course, Wade used a beautiful opening line that would normally get his assed whipped. 

“Hi, peanut.”

Y/N bit her lower lip to stop herself from laughing. This was Wade, typical Wade Wilson. Fucking Deadpool and her best friend. How the fuck did they manage to become friends? She knew him for a long time, fought alongside him and tolerated that dipshit. 

“Look, lady, I’m not interested,” the man said gruffly. His voice was deep, husky and kind of sexy. It made Y/N tilt her head. Interesting. 

It was painful to watch the interaction. Wade tried to get him off the chair, away from the bar before he could explain anything. Such a rookie mistake. It was time to intervene before Wade overstepped and jeopardised this whole mission. 

She got off the chair and walked to the tall, well-built man. With a smile, she tapped on his shoulder. He instantly turned, his weird metal claws already out of his hands, ready to fight. When their eyes met, she showed him her bright smile and teeth. “Hi, peanut.” 

His face changed from pissed to shocked in less than a second. For a second it lost its colour. The man’s mouth opened wide. “Y/N?” he said her name gently, too gently for her liking. “Holy shit.” 

“Ha, Agent Smith was right,” Wade laughed, pointing a finger at her face. It got him three claws into his stomach. It made him grunt and fell to his knees. “Ouch. That fucking hurt.” 

“You know me?” Y/N asked, not believing the whole story she was told back in the TVA. 

That question took him aback. “What kind of dumb question is that, baby? Of course, I know ya,” and his hands reached for her face, holding her cheeks. To Y/N’s surprise, she let him. “How is this possible? How are you alive?” 

It was Y/N’s time for her eyes to widen in complete shock. “Woah,” she stepped back. 

“It’s me,” he said, frowning. “It’s Logan.” 

Wade decided to step in, waving a hand at them. “I don’t want to interrupt this romantic reunion, but we need to talk to you, big guy. It’s important.” 

“You came here with the weírd-looking sex toy?” Logan’s eyes were back on Y/N. “What the fuck is this? The the fuck is going on?”

That made her laugh. “Ha, Wade, even he thinks you look like a sex toy. With Cable, we are now three who think the same thing.” 

“Fuck you, Y/N,” he spat back. 

The man, Logan, pushed away from her, glaring. His claws were in the air, ready to strike if necessary. “Who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Deadpool and this is my annoying friend Y/N,” Wade introduced them. 

“You are an ass,” Y/N glared at Wade.

“Impossible,” Logan shook his head, bumping into a wooden stool. “You are dead,” he pointed a finger directly at Y/N’s face. “You cannot be here. You died in my fucking arms! Who the fuck are you?” he raised his voice at her. 

“I’m Y/N,” she said. 

“Don’t bullshit me!” 

There was a sound of a loading gun. All three lazily turned their gaze to the bartender who was pointing a shotgun at them. None of them was intimidated by that. “Get the fuck out of my bar! Now! Or I will shoot you all.” 

“I think this is our cue,” Wade whispered. 

Logan grabbed Wade by the red top of his suit, pushing him out of the bar like he was a ragdoll. Y/N immediately followed them out, ready to step in if necessary. She wasn’t worried about Wade. He was immortal. His body parts would grow back. She was more ready to step in intellectually. That was something Wade didn’t know how to do. 

“Everyone calm down,” she said. 

“No!” they both yelled at her, already fighting like children.

Y/N looked at herself, reading this story and made a sour face. “Men,” she sighed and turned her gaze to the two men who were about to tear each other apart. A purple-looking mist appeared in her hands and she pushed the men away from each other. 

“That’s enough, gentlemen,” she said. 

There was blood coming out of Wade’s abdomen - the marks from the claws. She had to shake her head. Wade had his gun out, pointing it directly at Logan. “Will you fucking listen, you oaf?” 

Logan’s eyes moved from him back to Y/N. She saw how his stance relaxed. It was painful to look at her, see someone he lost. His claws retraced back into his hands. His fists clenched tightly, knuckles becoming white. “How come you are alive?” he asked. 

Y/N sighed. “Because I’m not her… me… uh,” she shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“Fucking talk, woman,” he raised his voice. 

She raised her hand to calm him. “I can explain. But I need you to come with us, Logan.”

His eyes closed. When Y/N said her name, more emotions ran across his face. “How can I trust you? I can’t seem to trust my own mind.” 

Wade was ready to say something stupid, but Y/N quickly shut him up by throwing him away with her power. “Believe me, it doesn’t make any sense to me, too. I can give you an explanation if you will help us.” 

“Help with what?” he raised a brow. 

Y/N made a face, changed it to a frown. ”To save the multiverse?” she said it like a question, hesitant whether he’d believe her. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds fucking crazy. Trust me, I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around it.” 

Wade came running back. “That was rude, you know?” 

“Shut up,” she glared at him. “We need his help, so let me handle it. Just for once, Wade, I need you to zip it, okay?” 

He leaned closer to Logan. “She’s hormonal,” he whispered to him. 

This time, Y/N decided to ignore his comment. “Please,” she turned her gaze to Logan. “Will you come with us? Help us save our world, all of the worlds?” 

He scoffed. “I’m no hero, kid.” 

Y/N turned her head to Wade, then back to Logan. “None of us are heroes here,” she said. “Maybe that’s why we are meant to save everyone’s asses,” she shrugged. 

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “How come you are not a hero? You are the sweetest thing in this world. You are the definition of heroism and kindness,” he said. 

She made a face. “Come with us and we’ll talk about it all.” 

And he did. 

. . . 

Logan and Y/N sat behind an old-fashioned plastic table. He still wore his clothes while Y/N changed from her tactical suit to jeans and a simple shirt. The silence between them was awkward. The tension could be cut with a knife. His eyes scanned her from head to anywhere they were able to reach. 

There was a stack of documents and papers by her side. She grabbed them to show them to prove she was not lying. 

The door opened and Wade stepped in, out of his red suit. Logan gasped, horrified when he saw the man’s face. “What the fuck? Holy shit, that is fucking horrible. As if you were ran down by a Zamboni,” he yelled. 

“It’s disgusting, right?” Y/N nodded. But a second later a grin was on her face. 

“Ha, ha,” Wade pretended to laugh. “Can’t believe you two are laughing at a poor disabled man who happened to have his face fucked to safe his shitty life.” 

“That was your decision,” Y/N reminded him. 

Logan pretended to hurl. Y/N chuckled. “It’s hard to look at him.” 

Y/N smiled at her friend. “Could you leave us alone?” she asked. “I need to talk to him alone and, well, it takes time to get used to your face.” 

Wade pointed a finger at her. “One day, I will cut your tongue out,” he threatened. He was already on his way out. “Oh,” he threw her a little device. “If you want to show him something spicy,” he winked at her. 

Once the door shut behind him, Y/N exhaled the breath she was holding. “Now that he’s out of the picture,” she waved with a hand.

“Just start singing,” said Logan, annoyed. 

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, but I am not your Y/N. I’m from a different timeline,” she started. 

“How are you, not my Y/N? You sound the same, you look the same. You have the same mutation,” he said. “And a different timeline? What kind of bullshit is that?” 

She shrugged. “Hey, I found out about all of this today, okay?” she then glared at him. “I, myself, have trouble taking it in. It’s crazy, it’s fucked up on so many levels. It’s not easy for me too, you know?” 

Logan huffed. “Continue.”

“This is going to sound crazy, so prepare yourself.” She took a deep breath. “I was told, and showed, that somehow, we are meant to be together in almost every timeline.”

“What?” 

Y/N made a face. “It sounds like a fucking fairytale.” Her hands grabbed the first folder, looking at its name. When she opened it, there was a photo of both of them. They looked the same. Y/N pushed her chair closer to him and showed Logan the details in the document. “In this timeline, we are both normal people. We live together in the Canadian mountains.” 

Logan took the folder and read the document. His eyes went over the photo. He shook his head. “Holy shit,” was the only thing he said. 

Y/N reached for another folder. When she opened it, she chuckled. “Here, you are a notorious mob boss,” she showed him. In the picture, he had an eyepatch over his left eye. “We live in Madripoor. People know you there as Patch.” 

“What about my version in your world?” he asked.

She sighed. “There is none. I said we are meant to be together in almost every universe. In mine, you don’t exist.” She turned to the documents and took out the one from her timeline.

Logan snatched it from her, reading through the words. “You are a mercenary?” he asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” she nodded. “Wade and I have a business together. He’s the only family I have. Well, Wade and his fianceé Vanessa. In the past, the Avengers approached with the offer to be in their team. I declined. That’s not who I am.” 

“Is there a world, uh, timeline where you don’t exist?” he asked.

“They told me there used to be one, but that timeline was destroyed a long time ago,” she explained. “Don’t ask me how that happened, because I don’t have an answer for that. You should ask Agent Smith that.” 

“Why do you keep calling him that?” 

“He looks like a character from a movie,” she explained. Her hand reached for another folder. When she opened it, she laughed. “In this world, you and are enemies that secretly love each other.” 

Logan’s brow raised. He read the details of their relationship. “You are on Magneto’s side?” he gasped. “I mean, she is… This is so confusing.” 

“Uh,” she hesitated for a moment. “When did you lose me? Or the version of me. You know what I mean.” 

“Haven’t you read that?” he asked. 

“Nope,” she shook he head. “I’ve got through a couple of those folders. I was only told that we were going to your timeline and that I was dead. Plus to get you out of there and convince you to help us.” 

Logan nodded. “You died…” It was hard to talk about it. “It happened a few years ago during a war that the mutants were in,” he said. “You died in my arms,” he cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. 

“I live with that pain every day,” he continued. “And now, it is fucking harder than ever before, because here you are, sitting in front of me, but you are not… her.” 

At that point, she realised how difficult this experience was for him. Logan seemed like a tough guy. The pain that reflected in his eyes, how he avoided meeting her eyes more and more. 

“Everyone I knew is dead,” said Logan after a pause. “No one lives in my world that I care about.” 

Y/N bit her lower lip. “Logan,” she said his name softly. “We pulled you out of your timeline because it will be destroyed soon.” 

His eyes widened. “Wait, what? What’s going to happen to me?” 

“The TVA will present you with options. But if we save the multiverse, we will be rewarded. Or that’s what they told me,” she said. 

“It doesn’t matter. No one in my world is alive.” He stood up from the chair. “Let’s do this shit. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.” 

Y/N put a small smile on her face. She wanted to show him more, tell him what they told her, what she thought of it. “Yeah, let’s do this.” 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Snow Angel

Aegon's Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 600< | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, forced/arranged marriage, angst, pregnancy, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved

To this day, you could not say how you felt about your husband. Aegon was many things, a drunk, a pervert, a maniac, but it did not really matter because he was also a Targaryen, and one day, he would also be a king.

Did you hate him? Perhaps in times he took his anger out on you or when he made you lie with him when you did not want to.

Did you think him horrid? Yes. Most definitely in times where he abused his power for his entertainment. But perhaps the most horrid thing he's ever done to you is make yourself wonder if you loved him.

You did not marry him for love, gods no. Not once when you caught a glimpse of him in feasts or namedays did you ever imagine you'd be his bride, but then you were. And once you were a princess, everyday you were reminded one day you might be queen. This was why your belly was never not swollen with child, to secure babe that might one day be a king.

"A king lives in you," Helaena mutters as she played with her food.

You turn to her, rubbing your bump. You smile, "a boy?" You turn to her mother who was silently eating her dinner across you, "the queen will be pleased."

"And brother will be loathed to see himself staring back at him," Aemond says upon hearing your words.

You press your lips into a tight line, "is that how you felt when Helaena gave birth to your son?"

"I am not my brother," he turns to you, "and my son is not me."

"A chick crying for his mother," Helaena says, looking at your belly.

She does not continue. It agitates you, "where is his mother?"

She turns to her food again, shaking her head, "flew away."

"Flew away?" Aegon drunkenly repeats what his sister told you at the dinner table he'd been absent from.

Your eyes could not help but water in this moment. You rub your belly, dreading the idea of never being able to see your son.

"You would know not to-" belch "-believe everything Helaena says."

You turn to your hands and shake your head. She predicted the sex of your three daughters. She predicted the injury Aegon sustained trying to mount Sunfyre drunk. You believed her.

Aegon notices your silence and the tear that drips down your nose. He sighs and sits beside you on your shared bed. You look up at him when the mattress dips. He gracelessly takes your hand and slaps his on top of it, "all will be well."

You remain silent. Your red eyes staring back at him sober him up. He rubs your hand, "we have the best maesters in Westeros."

You lower your gaze, observing his touch grows gentler and gentler.

"Take heart. If it is a boy, then it will have been the last time you need lay with me."

His ministrations halt when you place your hand atop his. You look up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Aegon knows no matter what he says, you will not find comfort, and yet he offers still, "Sunfyre will feast if they do not preserve the mother of my children."

His somber face pinches your heart. In this moment, you did not need to wonder. You mutter, "I love you."

Aegon does not reply. He does not know what to do with the admission. He does not even know if it was true. Come the birth of his son, he realizes he did not care. He did not care if you really loved him or not, so long as you were there.

The life of his youngest came at the cost of your own however. Helaena was right, his chick cried for his mother. No one could stop him from making true the last promise he gave his wife. His dragon drank the blood of ten people the day his heir was born.

[damnfeelings09]

Style - Shadow's version

A.N: this one closes the little story, I'm not really good writting explicit content but I tried my best. Also I'm not sure if you wanted to stay human or mobian so I kinda keept it vague so you could decide.

“Midnight, you come and pick me up, no headlights.”

You got out of the shower, the steam flooding your room, creating a warm and pleasant atmosphere. Carefully, you walked to your bed where your pajamas were already laid out, while the drops of water fell on your shoulders. You loved your days off. You used to spend the whole day at home, making the most of the time with... ah... there he was again, in your thoughts. You still hadn’t decided what you would do about his message. It had been three days, and all you could do was stare at the screen, wondering what would be the most appropriate response. Maybe a “hello” or “what’s up,” or “I love you” or your personal favorite “screw you, idiot, you broke my heart.”

“This is impossible,” you said. “What am I supposed to do now? It's not like I can just... ignore him?” You knew that was the most cowardly option, but you couldn’t face the situation. You didn’t want to face it. The same day you had received the message, you talked to Dylan and let him know that you weren’t really interested in him and that you only saw him as a friend. It had been hard because you really liked him, but you weren’t in love with him. How could you be when your heart only beat for one person? You finished getting dressed, wearing a long blouse as a nightgown, and leaving your hair loose while looking for the hairdryer. You were halfway into your closet when you heard a ring—it was a new notification. Quickly, you picked up your phone, and once again, his name appeared.

Shadow: I’m outside.

Damn it! Why? What did Shadow think he was doing outside your house?

"It’s been a while since I’ve even heard from you," you thought. Carefully, you approached the living room window and peeked through. You could see his car parked right in front of your door. Another notification made you step back from the window. You quickly read the message.

Shadow: Come out.

"I should just tell you to leave 'cause I know exactly where it leads, but I..."

Slowly, you opened the door, finding Shadow leaning against the passenger door. He had his arms crossed, his inhibitory rings glowing in the moonlight, and his eyes… those red eyes, like two rubies, staring at you intensely.

"You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style"

With every step you took towards him, your heart beat even faster. If it weren't for your training as a GUN agent, you probably would’ve suffered an arrhythmia and died right then. Shadow kept his gaze fixed on you, analyzing every move you made. With each step you took, he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, that you were angry with him, and although he had promised himself not to bother you again, here he was, once more, in front of your door. But this time, he had the courage to call you. When you were close enough, Shadow stood up and opened the passenger door, nodding for you to get in.

"So it goes He can't keep his wild eyes on the road, mm"

Shadow drove in silence, while you couldn’t stop intertwining and releasing your fingers. Saying you were nervous was an understatement; there wasn’t a word in your vocabulary that could describe the avalanche of emotions you were feeling. You tried to control your breathing, not wanting him to notice, even though it was a stupid thought—there was nothing about you that the ultimate lifeform didn’t notice. You glanced at the dashboard clock. It was past midnight, and you had no idea where Shadow was taking you. You directed your gaze to the hedgehog, but when his eyes met yours, you quickly turned your gaze to the door. If it were possible, you would’ve jumped out of the car right then. Shadow slightly increased the speed, making his car roar as it sped down the tree-lined road. His eyes darted between the road and your face, noticing that you were nervous, and something more—the reddish tint on your cheeks gave you away, and he couldn’t wait to kiss every part of you.

You inhaled and, gathering your courage, broke the silence. “I heard, oh, that you've been out and about with some other girl,” you said, looking down. That was what everyone had been talking about—the new girl who had quickly gained Commander Shadow the Hedgehog’s trust. At first, you didn’t want to believe it, but then you saw the pictures, where he was next to her, a smaller hedgehog, with bright yellow eyes and white fur. You wouldn’t admit it, but that night, you had cried in the bathtub.

Shadow looked at you as he slowed down the car. You had left the city miles behind, and now, you were ridding up the hill. Hesitant, he took the steering wheel with his left hand while placing the other one on your leg, gently caressing it. “What you heard is true, but I can’t stop thinking 'bout you and I.” he said.

“I’ve been there too a few times,” you said without thinking. You didn’t expect to give that response, but Shadow always managed to bring out your true personality. Right there, in his car, with his body so close and his caresses on your skin, you could barely think straight. You looked at him. Shadow had always seemed so damn handsome to you, but seeing him under the moonlight was definitely a religious experience. The sound of the engine accompanied every turn he made with the steering wheel, but it was his gaze that truly dominated the moment. His crimson eyes, deep and mysterious, fixed on the road, while his dark quills seemed to blend with the shadowy interior of the car. If it weren't for the reddish tips, you would’ve sworn they had grown out. His hand never left your leg; instead, his thumb made small circles on your soft skin, and you swore that with that little touch, you swore you could reach the heavens.

"You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt (a tight little skirt) And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style (we never go), we never go out of style"

The ride lasted 15 more minutes until Shadow finally stopped the car at the hill’s lookout. You knew this place; it was where you had your first date, where he first said “I love you,” and where... where you both had spent your first night together. With every memory, the heat increased, and your face felt like it was going to explode.

“I’m sorry,” Shadow murmured, halting the flow of memories that your mind was traveling through. His gaze was fixed on you, his expression had changed. That cold façade he showed the world crumbled before you. “For... everything.” Shadow had never been a fan of apologies. He always tried to find a way to be right, not because he was stubborn or made many mistakes—after all, we were talking about the ultimate lifeform—but he always took responsibility when it came to you. “I know I made you suffer. You have to understand that I... I... wanted to keep you safe, and I only managed to push you away. I didn’t know how. I still don’t... And I know you don’t want me close, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I can’t... I don’t want to be without you.”

That was all it took, his confession to you was all you needed to hear. The air was charged with electricity, and every part of you was begging for his touch. You both stared at each other for a second, and without thinking any longer, you threw yourself at him. Your lips collided with intensity, as if you couldn’t wait any longer, as if time no longer existed. There, in the warmth of the car, only you two existed. Shadow took a second to react, the surprise on his face was undeniable, but it quickly turned into need as he took you by the waist, pulling you even closer, as if he was trying to fuse your body with his. Hands gripped, mouths opened, and the kiss turned into something wild, impetuous, where nothing else mattered.

"Take me home Just take me home"

You placed your hand on his chest, caressing his soft fur gaining a soft growl from the hedghog, you took a chance and pull yourself away from his hungry lips for a second. “… just take me home…” you said as you caught your breath. Shadow pressed his lips together one more time, then pulled away from you, making the engine roar. He drove quickly, the trees blurring into a smear. Throughout the drive, his hand remained intertwined with yours.

"Oh, you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like"

When you arrived to his home, your home, Shadow opened your door and took you in his arms bridal style, carrying you inside. Your clothes quickly abandoned your body, decorating the living room, the hallway, and the bedroom.

"And when we go crashing down (now we go), we come back every time"

He carefully laid you on the bed, admiring the view as he positioned himself above you, as if trying to engrave your image in his memory forever. He approached slowly, leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your lips, saying how much he loved you after each one. A silent promise was born between you both that day—never again would you be apart... never.

"Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style"

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Speaking of colleges what abt Simeon x graduating reader. She’s graduating from Yale law or smth and doesn’t have much support from her family bc of their outdated views on how women should be/ act like .So Simeon shows up to her graduation to support her? Sorry I just love fluff omg

Sorry this took so long, and this was written with moments of me being lucid, lol. I like how it turned out. Thank you for trusting me to bring this to fruition.

Pairing: Simon x Reader

Title: And you came? Just for me?

CW: None fluff

It had been a long time coming, four years plus the two year accelerated law school, and you're finally done. What should be a day filled with happiness settled in your bones as dread. Your family, while they sent you off to school, did so with the idea that you would be getting your Mrs degree. So when you ended up with a bachelor's instead of an eligible bachelor, they were dismayed. They spent a good deal of money on your sorority dues, making sure you got into the right rooms and parties and charities with handsome young men. Your sister was able to do it, and she didn't even stay long enough to complete a two year degree. Which was great for her because it's what she wanted. She wanted to be a kept wife and mother, and you were happy for her.

The night before, your mother fussed and complained that the best parts of your twenties were wasted, and thirty was fast approaching. With a career in the way, how could you get married and have children? No man wants a career oriented wife or a woman who makes as much or more than him.

They would be distraught over your boyfriend and his background and his work. You met him during one of your internships. Your focus was on international law, and your professor had recommended you to work under his brother's law firm that dealt with government law and the wonderful world of war crimes. It was an operation that accidentally became public, and your mentor was assigned to work with some fancy task force to help clean up the various crimes they committed.

He was tall, broad, brooding, and had an air of danger about him. While everyone else had made themselves friendly and approachable, he was steadfast, not wanting to talk or be bothered. He made you angry at first. He broke treatises, caused mayhem, and for what, the good of the world? So when your mentor, tired as she was, tried to get him to recount his version of events, he didn't. You blew up at him and slammed your files onto the table. Shouting that the least he could do was pretend to care about true justice and doing right by the law and that he would be no better than the terrorists he fought if he couldn't answer to a judge and try to justify his actions.

Since that outburst, the brooding man, who told you to call him Simon, had been a constant in your life. He lived his life hard and fast, mission after mission, but always finding time for you and some how a relationship blossomed. It started off with coffee outside of his and his team's barely visible court case. Then, it turned into nights at a bar quietly chatting away in the darkness of the booth towards the back. Somehow, Simon ended up wriggling into your time and days even after the court case was closed, and he and his team acquitted (which almost didn't happen but your mentor either knew people or was just that good or it was a sham case to cover up something else).

Before you knew it, Simon had said "I love you" even though the timing was off. He was getting ready for a deployment. He'd be gone for a minimum of six months, and he wasn't sure about the success rate of him coming back in one piece. Still, he said those three words to you over the video call. His honey brown eyes looked at you as if you were the center of the world. He had said that he loved that you were smart, beautiful, and had a firey passion for bringing the dark to light, and that was what you had done to him. Each smile you gave him, each stolen kiss before he had to leave your side, all of it made him feel like he was standing in the sunlight. He even admitted that he was too scared to confess to you in person.

You didn't care because you loved him too. He was a constant presence in your life. Someone who wasn't a mentor that saw you for you. He wasn't your backward and complicated family that saw you for only bettering the family line. He made you feel like you were doing the right thing, following your dreams.

That was seven months ago. He warned you that he wouldn't be able to talk while he was gone. You hoped and prayed that he was surviving whatever trials he was in. Meanwhile, you were in the middle of graduating, doing your best to ignore the hurt that your family didn't come to see your achievement. There was nobody in the crowd to shout your name at the small ceremony. No flowers or anyone to take your picture.

The speaker had called your name, and to your surprise, you hear shouts and hollers. You look over into the family and friends seating section and see Simon and his team. There's him, Price, Kyle, and Johnny. Johnny has a poster board up that has your name with atrocious writing on it. All of them are still dressed in what you assume to be their field clothes without being fully kitted up. Simon had forgone his balaclava for a black medical mask, but he still had that imposing black eye paint around his eyes. All of them looked raggered and tired, but happy to see you walk across the stage.

After the closing ceremony, you book it towards Simon. You're not even sure how he's here! He's supposed to be in a gun fight somewhere. He said sorry on the last call for not being able to make it, already planning to make up missing this milestone.

His arms stetch out, and he catches you as you throw yourself into him.

"You came!?" You pressed yourself into him. He smelled like gunpowder, and whatever else he probably hastily freshened up with. You didn't care, he was here! "You really came Simon!"

He hushed you and moved his mask so he could press his lips to your head. "It was a tight margin, but I couldn't miss the love of my life's achievements."

Extra

They had just barely touched down on friendly soil before Simon was rushing everyone into the truck. Price had managed to get their flight redirected to the nearest airport close to his Bird's college. What was supposed to be an hour and a half drive was about to be done in 45 minutes because in two hours his girl would be walking the stage. With the way the mission went, you would have thought Simon was the captain leading it instead of Price.

(Price had joked that this would be the mission that makes Simon a Captain, and then he could retire and let his boys run loose in the world.)

"Si! Are ye even goin' tha speed limit!?" Johnny shouted as the truck swerved through traffic. He was holding on to the little grab bar by the window for life.

Kyle was doing his best to write a good message on the poster board. "We should have gotten a police escort!"

"Ghost we aren't gonna make that light!" Price shouted.

Simon took it as a challenge and pressed hard on the acceleration. The four of them flew through the yellow light just as it turned red.

"She's got nobody there to watch her cross that stage Cap." He was calm on the outside, but on the inside, he was sweating. He was gonna surprise his love, come hell or high-water.

[doodledrawsthings]

you. Oh my god, you. (Positive)

listen. Before I had internet access, all I had was 1 hour of allotted browser time, bing image search, and a single dantdm play through of a hat in time that never got finished. I googled fanart and got pretty much nothing, I googled fancomics and got pretty much nothing, but you know what I did end up finding?

your art.

from ages 11-14, my goal in life, in art, was your art. I can’t tell you how much I loved finding random screenshots of your posts, because I was always just so impressed by how clean and consistent your sketches are, how the characters always stay on model, the shape language, how you could somehow sketch a character in like 20 lines when it took me 50 to draw sans in my little spiral notebook— like! Holy shit! For years I have looked up to your art! There’s still a photos folder on my dads old huge-ass 12 inch work iPad labeled “holy crap” and filled with your art. Because it inspired me so much. It’s become an undeniable part of my artstyle, now — I still have fanart I drew way back in the day of Hattie and the rest, I didn’t even know anyone’s names because I couldn’t play the game, but you’re the reason I eventually did play the game. Your coffee shop au and different versions of the prince— one of those ieterations inspired the main character of my novel! Well, novel that I tried to write, I was 13 so it was eh, but I tried!!

I’m submitting this on-anon because I don’t want to out my age on the wide internet (I like my privacy) but. Your art has really meant a lot to me. It’s the reason I played hollow knight, and it’s the reason I kept trying to develop an art style I was happy with. You’re the reason I started scribbling comics in my notebooks. Being 13-14 was pretty much the worst two years of my life, but I had Bing image search and the occasional glimpse of your signature, and I’d be so happy every time I found a new (if crusty) three-times screenshotted jpg. You literally introduced me to the concept of polyamory and nonbinary-ness with the coffee shop au. I had no other access to that in my household, and. Yeah. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway. I’m so glad I’ve finally tracked you down (in the most non-ominous way possible) and I’m so glad you’re still active— Please never stop making art. Your art is incredible, and amazing, and also you never know who’s out there on Bing image search. Thank you for creating for as long as you have. You’re pretty much the reason I’m shooting for an art degree (Wish me luck!) so just…Thank you.

(Also I had no idea you were a professional storyboarder, which is insane because that’s what I want to be when I’m through college. Hey, maybe I’ll end up storyboarding a remake of something you’ve storyboarded! hehehe)

Hi anon!

So right off the bat, I gotta tell you that this message made me start bawling when I woke up and saw it. Like I had a full-on cry session while reading your message and lying in bed for almost an hour. I am crying as I am typing this response, on my phone, still in bed. It’s 11am and i woke up at 9. So I hope it turns out coherent.

The last two years have been. weird. I say that a lot because I wanna say “rough” but that still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m almost hyper-aware that there are so many people that have it worse than me rn, so it feels hard to even acknowledge when I’m going through anything, myself, sometimes- REGARDLESS, it’s been kind of an all-time low for my mental health. There was a point within in the last year where I just HATED drawing. I struggled to bring myself to work, I struggled to bring myself to even draw for fun. It felt like I was posting just to post, trying to keep people aware of my existence and it almost felt physically painful to force myself to sit down and do it, sometimes.

I’m getting better now, I think, but. Yknow.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the “oh I can make money off this,” “oh I can get attention off this,” “oh I can prove myself a functional person in society with this,” of it all. I forget why I actually do this, sometimes, or if I even enjoy it. And then I get messages like yours, about the kid with limited internet access looking for A Hat in Time fan art on Bing image search, and I get taken back to when I was a kid scrolling Google images and deviantart for the same thing.

I don’t mean to like. Foster some kind of parasocial thing with you or any one of my followers. There’s a reason I’m saying all this, I hope it ties up in the end.

We don’t know each other. I’m not some mysterious legendary artist, or whatever. I’m a person who gets burnt out, and jealous, and insecure. I need inspiration to function, just like you, and when I don’t have it, I get art block. But I also really like to draw fictional characters kissing and hanging out. I like coming up with comics and stories and playing out dramatic and funny scenarios in my head like I’m mashing Barbies together. And when other people tell me they enjoy the stuff I put out when I do this, it makes me really, really, really happy.

I think I needed to read your message, probably. With the state of… Everything… Right now, especially recently, I feel like a lot of artists are also struggling with a sense of purpose, pride, and reason as the world makes it harder and harder to even BE an artist, these days. And when I read this message it was like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I got taken back to when I was a kid looking at my favorite artists and studying their style and striving to be better and better at it over years of my life. Not just because I wanted a job for it or cuz I wanted to be a famous Disney animator or whatever, but because it was fun and I just liked doing it.

Thank you, SO much. I say this in the most genuine and earnest way I possibly can possibly express. I wish you luck on your own path in art and art school. And if you decide that animation industry is your thing, then I wish you the best in that endeavor, as well. I think I will keep making art for a long time.

Peace and love on the planet earth ✌️✌️✌️

[ikaroux]

How are they with their pregnant partner? Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

Note: Wow, it's been so long since I've written NSFW…. I'm a bit rusty.

Then I'll have to do Aether, Neuvillette and Wriothesley, as well as diving back into rewriting the old texts in this series. I'd also like to do Freminet… Let me know if you're interested in other characters.

Since I now have an AO3 account, I decided to rewrite the first versions of this series to post them on it. I hope you'll still enjoy them.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

Part 6 Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus

"Ah?! A ba-baby!?"

Itto's reaction was surely overblown, yet the expression on his face was undoubtedly to die for. Mouth wide open, he stared at you in shock, taking a long moment before pulling himself together.

Bursting into laughter, he wrapped his muscular arms around you. "Ha ha ha! I've got to tell the Arataki gang! They'll be so happy to know that their leader will soon be a father! No, wait! I'll announce it to all of Inazuma! Let's have a big party! OYE! SHINOBU!" You hit him hard on the head, red with shame. 

"I forbid you to tell anyone until you're three months pregnant! Have I made myself clear?!" Your stern tone sent shivers up and down his spine. 

"Ah?! Why not now?" You sighed. You may have loved this man with all your being, but he was still exhausting your nerves.

"There's a high risk of miscarriage during this period, which is why I'm asking you not to talk about it... Please. Please." His expression slowly softened as his gaze dipped into yours. Again, he wrapped his arms around you more gently, tenderly kissing your forehead. 

"Understood, boss." You smiled, lovingly returning his embrace.

Itto's behavior during the pregnancy was so exemplary that the members of his gang, Shinobu first, wondered if he hadn't suddenly fallen on his face. He even went so far as to find "honest" jobs here and there to buy you maternity clothes and furniture for his future bedroom.

Your husband had the ingenious idea of consulting the high priestess Yae Miko for advice on your pregnancy... Peculiar. Itto knew of no demon in his circle who had fathered a child with a human. His instincts warned him of the risks you could run with a half-demon baby. Miko will make sure you're taken care of by a midwife who knows the oni world.

You felt terribly ill during your pregnancy. From beginning to end, your vomiting and discomfort drove Itto crazy with worry. You could see him running around looking for anything that would make you feel better. If you were vomiting, Itto would stay with you, stroking your back until it passed. If you felt dizzy, he'd lift you into his arms and sit you on his lap, rocking you gently until you felt better.

Often, you could see your companion admiring you with a blissful expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?" you'd ask him every time, knowing perfectly well his answer. You loved hearing him repeat the same passionate, loving words to you. "I just think you're beautiful. I can't take my eyes off you. Héhé." Itto always had this little blush on his face when he admired your rounded belly. Really, pregnancy made him much softer and more considerate than usual.

You didn't like people touching your belly just because you were pregnant. And it took you a long time to accept that Itto would do it without you grumbling. Yet it was his childlike smile and the stars in his eyes that gradually made you accept the situation.

Itto would often talk to his baby, telling him how his day was going or stories about the oni clans. You could only listen, rolling your eyes as he combined words with gestures. Even so, you couldn't resist stroking your companion's imposing hair, smiling tenderly as you watched him.

When your belly is rounded enough to be visible even from several meters away, Itto will make a habit of always kissing it, amused by the baby's kicks that would distort your belly. "HAHAHA this child will be big and strong, just like his father!"

It was quite amusing to see your companion preparing for the birth of your child, taking crash courses with a few women from your village. Shinobu was obviously making sure that his boss used the right gestures to calm a child's cries, change its diapers or properly hold its baby in his arms.

As expected, the delivery was difficult. Giving birth to a half-demon child demanded a strength your human body didn't possess. Blood loss made you wince and Itto thought for a moment he was going to lose you both. But you showed exemplary strength, and the support of your companion, as well as that of the high priestess, enabled you to pass this difficult ordeal. Your baby's cries echoed through the room, and Itto wept loudly, clutching your hand to his cheek. His tremors and muffled sobs made you smile tenderly, as happy as he was that all had ended well.

Itto was speechless as he took his child in his arms for the first time. Was this little crying creature his baby? The one he'd seen growing in your belly? HIS child?! He was so tiny, so cute with his little scarlet horns barely visible on the top of his skull. Not quite knowing how to soothe his crying baby, you showed him the right way to rock him and... Surprisingly, Itto was extremely good at it...

Your tender oni is said to be a very protective and cheerful father. He wants his child to always see the world in a positive light. He'll sometimes be a bit too daredevil with him, earning your wrath. Fortunately for you, Itto will calm down over the years…

NSFW Bonus

"POUAH, I'm exhausted!" Itto dropped onto the bed, arms and legs spread wide as he let his heavy eyes close. "The Arataki gang gave it their all again today. Hehe, at least we're not causing Shinobu any more trouble!" Watching him out of the corner of your eye, you smiled slyly, striding towards him with hushed steps. The oni opened his eyes abruptly when he felt you climb astride his hips, your hands sensually massaging his bare chest. You'd always appreciated the firmness of his muscles, taking pleasure in exploring each of his curves to discover the most sensitive places he hid. Leaning over him, letting your chest, slightly swollen with pregnancy hormones, rest against his, you nibbled his lower lip. His eyes, immediately filling with desire, couldn't tear themselves away from yours. You could quickly feel your lover hardening beneath you.

"Do you still have enough strength left to care for your companion in need?" You mumble erotically in his ear, teasing his nipples with your fingertips. "I want it terribly~" Itto lifts his hips to meet yours, one of his hands positioning itself on your waist to rock you onto your back.

"Do you feel that?" His hand crept under your clothes, passing the band of your underwear to caress your femininity. "Héhé~ you're already soaking wet darling~ Is it being pregnant that puts you in the mood?" Without giving you time to respond to his comment, Itto enters two fingers deep inside you, making you cry out in surprise. He knew perfectly well where all your sensitive points were, pressing slyly on them to make you moan loudly. Your body sought to escape the delicious torture he was inflicting, his fingers aggressively penetrating you. "Don't awaken the beast in me if you don't want to writhe in pleasure under my ministrations." Itto was a completely different man when he had sex with you, his usually jovial face transforming into a darker expression as his desires got the better of him.

Pregnant or not, he was never one to go out of his way. Itto knew he was big, too big for you, and foreplay was always a mandatory step before he could implant his sex inside you. "Look at you, darling, your breasts are so big with pregnancy. I want to lick them terribly!" Itto grabbed one of your breasts between his lips, adding a third finger inside you as his free hand groped his pants to pull out his excruciatingly hard member. It was too much for you, and your back arched beneath him, your hips swaying to the rhythm of his fingers. You were so close, and seeing him caress himself while he fingered you made you come hard on his hand. Itto pulled away slightly you, leaning toward the other nipple he hadn't yet teased. "Not yet... Not until you can take four inside you." Damn, that damned demon!

Itto looked thirstier than you, his eyes glowing scarlet as he watched you cum with four of his fingers inside you, just as he'd promised. Sex with him had always been sport, but now that you were pregnant, everything seemed more intense. When he finally penetrated you, that damned demon took a malicious pleasure in watching you from all his height, holding your legs close to his hips as he pounded you rigorously. His eager eyes darted between your face distorted with pleasure, your swollen breasts bouncing with each of his hip thrusts and your slightly rounded belly.

Itto was a man of stamina, far more than anything you could take. So when you begged him to stop, the oni would comply at once, fear settling in his brain. Had he hurt you? Was the baby all right? None of the above... But you were clearly close to fainting. Itto, aware that he'd been a bit hard on you, will take care of your body, immersing you with him in a warm bath, his big hands massaging your shoulders. He won't be frightened to see you asleep in his arms, so, taking advantage of your sleep, your companion will cuddle you tenderly, one hand resting on your belly, lovingly caressing it.

"I'm going to be a dad? Really?"

You smiled tenderly, taking his trembling hands in yours. Heizou's gaze flickered between your eyes and your belly. A baby? You were pregnant?! His mind blurred as a vision of you with a round belly popped into his head. All of a sudden, the word dad sounded pretty good in his head... Kneeling in front of you, Heizou encircled your thighs with his arms, placing a tender ear close to your belly, a joyful smile on his lips. "I'm going to be a daddy... I'm going to be... Daddy!" Slowly, tears rolled down the cheeks of your companion, who had suddenly gone silent. Your hands were lost in his hair, cradling Heizou against you, feeling his tears stain your clothes. You waited patiently for him to calm down before kneeling down in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your forehead resting against his as a gentle smile stretched your lips. Heizou closed his eyes, resting the palms of his hands on your cheeks, his thumbs lovingly caressing your skin. He breathed in your scent slowly, enjoying it more and more each day.

The two of you remained like this for a long moment, enjoying the tender silence that surrounded you. Images of your future life flashed through your minds. Heizou carrying your child in his arms, his gaze tenderly on him until that tenderness was directed at you...

Heizou was nothing but sweetness and tenderness to you. Even before carrying his child, this man never raised his voice at you or refused to take you in his arms. He loved to cuddle you, take care of you and listen to you. Sometimes, he would take you on his lap and listen to you affectionately talk about your future child, imagining your future life with him. You could sometimes see a dreamy smile stretch your companion's lips, as he imagined, just like you, this wonderful life.

Kazuha was a close friend of yours, so he was one of the first to be informed of your pregnancy. What a surprise when he knocked on your door, a gentle smile on his lips, holding your letter in his bandaged hand. "I've asked Beidou to make a little detour to come and see you. Congratulations, both of you." The two men weren't very tactile compared to you, who didn't hesitate to hug him in thanks. "Hehe, expect the title of Uncle Kazuha! What do you think Heizou? Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"; "Pretty good indeed." Heizou replied, a warm smile on his lips. To tell the truth, Kazuha didn't mind and, in a way, was happy to know that a family would now be waiting for him back in Inazuma.

Your companion's job was a constant source of anxiety for you. The midwife had gently admonished you for this, reminding you that stress during pregnancy could be bad for you and the child. Heizou, who accompanied you that day, bowed respectfully to her, promising to do all he could to calm your anxieties. Obviously, you were feeling terrible as you left the surgery, crying your eyes out in your companion's arms. Heizou comforted you tenderly, murmuring words filled with love. After this episode, he promised you he wouldn't take any more potentially dangerous commissions for the rest of your pregnancy…

For a few weeks, you'd been practicing cooking for your future baby. Heizou was sort of your test subject, trying to create colorful and cute bento. He enjoyed it every time, looking forward to seeing what you had prepared for him. He loved the little octopuses you made with the sausages, or the animal-shaped onigiri. His favorite was surely the pink onigiri that strongly resembled a fox. He was sure you'd tried to imitate Lady Yae Miko in her yokai form.

Heizou was sitting comfortably on your bed, one hand tenderly caressing your scalp while your head rested on his thigh. You could feel his other hand warmly covering your six-month-old belly, occasionally enjoying the little kicks his child gave through you. Heizou's fingers had always had this magical effect on you, weighing down your eyelids as sleep slowly invaded. Heizou was happy to have you in his arms, confident and at peace, pampering and cherishing you. Your breathing was a soothing sound to his ears and the movements of his child against his hand, an affectionate warmth he loved to feel.

"Heizou, promise me you'll stay with me through the birth! The closer the fateful date gets, the more I'm afraid of what's going to happen..." Your companion took you in his arms, gently caressing the small of your back. "I promise I'll be there, from the beginning, until the end." His lips kissed your forehead, moving down your nose until they settled on your lips. "Together... Even if I end up with a crushed hand, I'll stay by your side." You laughed, hitting his arm without force. "Everything will be okay, Y/N... I love you."

Your companion managed your first contractions with impressive composure. He quickly took you to the midwife's office, insisting on staying by your side all the way, as he had promised. Your companion kept your hand in his, occasionally wiping your forehead with a cool cloth. He encouraged you all the way, worrying about your cries of pain. He knew it could last several hours, and seeing you suffer helplessly gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite the context, he promised himself to remind you later of all the curses you'd shouted against him and the gods, while your mind was clouded with pain. He would surely have laughed if he hadn't seen the tears rolling down your cheeks…

Heizou remained silent for a long time, as he gazed with tear-filled eyes at his infant, comfortably ensconced in the crook of his arms. Sitting cautiously by your side, he finally dared to explore his child's chubby face, tenderly brushing his cheeks, nose and little lips. Curious, he placed a finger in the hollow of his palm, his little hand automatically tightening around it. Heizou let his tears flow, leaning gently towards his baby to kiss the top of his head, then towards you, lovingly claiming your lips.

Heizou will be a very warm and instructive father. He wants his child to be able to learn all sorts of things for himself, encouraging his curiosity and intellect. He will never be too hard or too strict with him, preferring to explain things several times rather than let him give up. He doesn't expect his child to follow in his footsteps, but he'll still be happy when he tells him he wants to become a great detective, just like him.

NSFW bonus:

You were naked, leaning over the bathtub to check that the water temperature wasn't too hot, completely oblivious to the olive eyes staring back at you with a brilliant gleam of desire. Heizou approached you, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. His hand rested on your belly as his bare chest pressed against your back. You shivered as his teeth nibbled your earlobe. "You really are gorgeous..." He murmured sensually as his hands worshipped every inch of your skin.

"Hei-Heizou, you really are insatiable! We've already made love today! Twice!" You growl without any real motivation, your lover's hands slowly kneading your chest. You hear him giggle against your ear, pressing his hips against your buttocks.

"Is that a problem? I can easily guess you want this as much as I do..." That man and his damned intuitions! You quickly gave up the fight as Heizou sensually lowered one of his hands between your thighs, teasing your femininity with his fingers. "You're so wet already~ Is it pregnancy that's got you all worked up?" Heizou pinched your nipple as one finger penetrated you with ease, making you squeal against him.

"Stop teasing me for a moment! I need you..." You begged, your fingers encircling Heizou's wrist. Your companion breathed an amused laugh, withdrawing his hand from you to guide you to the bathtub. He didn't need to fight your desires, because after all... He wanted the same thing you did.

Heizou kissed you with tender passion, his hands resting on your hips helping to lift you onto his member. And as he pulled away from your lips to better admire you, seeing you gasp, head slightly tilted back and lips parted under the influence of pleasure swelled his heart with pride. He was the one who put you in this state... Singing his name as he touched all your sweet spots... You were so sensitive with pregnancy, it made him dizzy. He couldn't help it, he needed to see your flushed face, hear your moans of pleasure. Heizou had always enjoyed sex with you, but pregnancy made you so needy that he lost control…

It was so good to feel your hands in his hair, your body pressed against his with only your hips swaying on his shaft. Heizou loved breathing in your perfume, tasting your skin, having your little round belly against his stomach and your voice so close to his ear... Unable to take it any longer, Heizou helped you speed up the pace of your back-and-forth, making you cry out his name. He wanted to feel you cum, to have your walls tight around him. Heizou licked hungrily at your neck, grunting against you as he savored the tension rising in your abdomen, indicating that you were nearing your climax. And when, at last, you freed yourself from that merciless knot, squeezing his member in sweet, pleasurable torture, Heizou released into you. His heartbeat echoed in his ears as his hand tenderly caressed your back, murmuring soft words against your neck, feverish kisses wetting your skin.

Heizou will help you wash, towel and dress, taking you back to your room to rest... Until the next round.

"I'd really like to start a family with you, Y/N."

That's what he'd said to you one night, as he cuddled you in bed after a session of passionate lovemaking. How could you refuse him? You felt ready, and so did he.

A month later, when you were suffering from persistent vomiting and exhaustion, Lyney decided to take you to see a doctor as a matter of urgency. How could he not be concerned, seeing you in this state for over a week? And why didn't Lynette seem more concerned about your condition? He didn't have time to ask himself these questions. Your health was all that mattered to him...

"Congratulations, you're pregnant." declared the doctor with a big smile. Lyney, sitting beside you, remained silent, his eyes wide with surprise, unlike yours, which had a smile stretching to your ears.

As you left the practice, you walked quietly through the streets of Fontaine, Lyney at your side. He hadn't said a word since you left the office... And that began to worry you. Did he regret it? "Lyney... ?" Whereas up until now, your gazes had fled each other, you put aside the fear knotting your stomach to confront him... And then, as you turned to face him, you saw them... His tears streaming down his cheeks... "Lyney! Why are you crying?! Don't... Don't you want this child?" Suddenly he took you in his arms, embracing you warmly as his face hid in the hollow of your shoulder. "Y/N... I promise I'll do anything to make sure our child has a wonderful life! I swear it! I'll take good care of him. Both of you. You'll never want for anything! *snif *. Thank you, Y/N. I love you, mon amour. I love you so much." It was your turn to cry, the pressure knotting your stomach disappearing with his words. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Yes, you were going to build your own home. A home filled with joy and happiness...

Lyney would be surprised to see you so clingy with him. To tell the truth, it was usually his job to be clingy. You didn't want him to leave your side or take his hand away from your skin... Pregnancy made you very emotional, and only Lyney's smell, his presence, his warmth comforted you... He never complained, and to tell you the truth, he loved it. Receiving free hugs or feeling you curl up around him like a koala when you slept always made him smile stupidly.

He'd obviously let Lynette and Freminet know, although both seemed to have already guessed your condition... He was happy to see his family accept your pregnancy with such joy. His sister and little brother were very close to you and, like Lyney before them, promised to do everything in their power to make their nephew's/niece's life a wonderful dream.

Lyney would bend over backwards to meet your needs. Pregnancy made you very greedy and your desires were sometimes... Wacky. Why were you suddenly craving a bowl of soba, a dish that was only served at Inazuma? No matter! He would learn to cook it to please you...

When you became pregnant, you and Lyney were just engaged. Seeing that your belly was getting rounder, Lyney thought you'd look gorgeous in a wedding dress. And he wasn't wrong... On your wedding day, when he first saw you in it, the harmonious curves of your belly making you even more sublime, he froze in front of your beauty. You were beautiful, as bright as the sun, as soft as spring, as gorgeous as the rainbow rose. He could hardly believe that this incredible being would not only be his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"Lyney!" Your husband gasped as he heard your angry voice calling his name. Your mood swings had been quite hazardous since your pregnancy, and your husband's slightest misstep sent you into a tizzy. "I told you not to leave your magic accessories lying around the apartment! I'm not asking you for heaven!" Lyney was quick to apologize, immediately putting his things away. After that, he always knew how to make amends, kissing every part of your face, massaging every sore spot on your shoulders, whispering words of love to you.

He loved to make you sit between his legs, tenderly caressing your belly to feel his child against his palms. He loved having you against him, your hands resting tenderly on his to guide him to the places where you felt the baby move. The first time he felt it, he marveled as children do at his magic tricks. He wondered if he knew that the hands on his mother's belly were those of his father, or if he recognized his voice... And you were sure he did, because every time Lyney spoke to him to tell stories, your baby seemed to react, bubbling in your belly. "Hey, mon petit ange, do you know how Daddy managed to seduce Mommy? No ? Then let me tell you a story~... It all started with a rainbow rose..."

Since you were pregnant, you had learned to knit. Lyney was silently raving behind the back of the sofa where you were sitting, humming a few nursery rhymes while you finished your work. Leaning back on the backrest, his chin resting on his arms, Lyney admired you with loving eyes, listening to the sound of your voice while you remained oblivious to his gaze, too focused on the little socks you were lovingly knitting. At that very moment, Lyney felt blessed by the gods... You were a true blessing in his life.

At times, Lyney was filled with doubt. His childhood had been miserable, he had never known the love of a parent, only the cruelty of Men. The hearth had given him and his sister a home and a family, but even so, Lyney hadn't had a childhood. Would he really be able to give his baby a happy childhood? Would he be able to preserve his innocence? He had promised himself to be strong, as a husband, but also as a father. He often discussed this with you, exposing his darkest fears. You were his light, always finding the right words to illuminate his darkest thoughts.

You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, and the contractions were becoming more and more present. Lyney, tormented by your suffering, stayed by your side, keeping you upright and helping you breathe deeply to ease the pain. As soon as the contractions subsided, Lyney took the time to help you sit up, then took care of your belongings. You were close to delivery and it was out of the question for you to take care of anything while he was around. The midwife was already aware of your close contractions thanks to Lynette, and Freminet kept an eye on you, occasionally refreshing your sweaty forehead. As soon as he was ready, Lyney called a carriage to take you quickly to the Fontaine maternity hospital. It had, quite literally, become a family affair...

Although the birth lasted only four short hours, Lyney was heartbroken to hear your cries of pain. The pain on your face made him lose his mind, and even though your hand was crushing his, he paid it no mind - after all, his pain was nothing compared to yours. All he wanted to do was encourage you and pray for the best... He was scared... Although Fontaine's technology ensured that pregnant women were well cared for, tragedies could still happen. Finally, when he heard the baby's first cries echoing through the room, he allowed himself to breathe. Crying his eyes out, he kissed your forehead several times, hoping to convey all the love he felt for you. "Bravo mon amour, you did it. You've done it. I'm proud of you..."

The first time Lyney saw his baby in your arms, his eyes would fill with tears, bellowing how beautiful he was and how much he looked like you... Almost hesitating to take his baby in his arms, Lyney trembled as he became aware of the reality of this being so small, so fragile... His child. Stars shone in Lyney's amethyst eyes as a happy smile stretched his lips. Gently, he placed a kiss on his baby's forehead, promising that he would always be by his side and do everything in his power to protect him.

Lyney will be an exceptional father. He will look after his child with care and tenderness, using his magic tricks to make his child's eyes shine with joy. As he promised, Lyney will do everything to make your life beautiful. He was a loving, caring, funny and magical father and husband...

Bonus NSFW:

You heard the sound of a door closing, indicating that Lyney had just returned from his magic show at the opera. Abandoning everything you were doing, you rushed to the entrance to find him... No one. The living room perhaps? You quickly made your way there, finding your companion slumped in the armchair, admiring with a gentle smile the stuffed animal he held over his face. You had knitted it for your baby, modeling it on the amethyst-eyed cat he camouflaged in his top hat... Gently, you approached Lyney, gazing at his beautiful, moonlit features. When he finally noticed you, his face lit up as he lovingly whispered your name. His hand reached out to you, inviting you to sit on his lap. Your heart palpitated, happy to accept his attention. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him all day, or maybe pregnancy and its hormones were making you feel unbearably lonely. Whatever the case, this sense of urgency led you to him at a run, your fingers curling tenderly around his.

"I've missed you, mon amour." Lyney helped you settle astride him, wrapping his arms around your waist. The warmth he radiated as he pulled you firmly back against his chest made you want more....

"I missed you too..." You whispered back to him, eager for his attention, wanting more than just a hug. You felt insatiable, on the brink. It had been weeks since you'd been thrilled by him, though the look in his eyes made it clear he wanted to claim you... Was it your belly that was stopping him? Had he built a wall between you and himself to prevent him from giving in to his deep-seated desires? Yet when he saw the need in your eyes, Lyney languorously moved one of his hands up to your hair, tracing a slow line down your back to your neck before following the path of your jaw. Once he reached your hair, he gently grabbed a tuft, bringing your face close to his, your lips brushing lightly against his. Aaaah~ You could already feel him hard against your groin…

"Y/N, if you look at me with those eyes.... I don't know if I could hold it in... But I don't know if it's wise for me to make love to you in your state, ma chérie... Tell me to stop if you don't want it to get out of hand..."

Grabbing his shirt, you closed the distance between you and his lips, kissing him with need, your hips pressing a little harder against his erection. You needed him as much as he needed you... Now!

"I asked the midwife about it... She said it was safe..." You murmur against his lips before diving back into your kiss. That man was so weak under you...

Lyney took the time to prepare you with his fingers, encouraging your hips that moved sensuously to the rhythm of his hand working you languorously. Your companion always went slowly with his foreplay, starting first with teasing caresses on your clitoris before inserting a finger then two between your walls. His thumb, which was not devoid of agility, massaged your swollen nerve, almost making you moan loudly into his neck. Lyney was never silent during your intercourse, even when he wasn't yet sheathed inside you, he felt a torturous pleasure just by hearing the sounds you produced under his ministrations... Your belly had taken on a few curves with the pregnancy, and Lyney took a malicious pleasure in caressing it with his free hand, whispering words of love to you.

"Y/N~ Seigneur... I love you, ma chérie. I love you both... When I think that you- Hm! - carrying my child... It drives me crazy! I don't know why- Ahh~ - it puts me in such a state!" His hips crushed your heart as he withdrew his fingers to unbutton his pants, freeing his painfully hard, engorged member. "If you weren't already pregnant, I'd make sure you were tonight!"

"Ly-Lyney!" You cried out in pleasure as he began to penetrate you inch by inch, making you tremble on top of him. It felt so good it made you dizzy.... Lyney clung to you, rocking your hips with his hands to help him reach the bottom. You were so tight around him that he was sometimes forced to stop to help you relax.

"Relax mon amour... I don't want to hurt you... Ah! You're tight!" When he finally reached the bottom, Lyney stroked your back limply, his face buried in the hollow of your neck. You were both panting, drenched in sweat and trembling. The clothes still on you were becoming suffocating and you had to pull away from him to get rid of your top and bra. As you did so, your eyes never left Lyney's, who mimicked your actions, throwing his own clothes away before pulling your face towards him. His tongue forced your lips open, tangling with need around yours. It was a sloppy kiss, fueled by the desire you had for each other. This simple fact made your lover far more needy, his member trembling inside you. No longer having the patience to wait, you slowly lifted your hips, leaving only the tip of his sex inside you, before moving back down to the guard... It was a languorous dance, where your breaths served as music. 

Lyney would move slowly, his member touching the deepest, most sensitive parts of your femininity. He'd manage to make you see the stars with so little effort, sometimes changing your position to sit in reverse cowgirl or simply tipping you gently over onto the living room table, legs braced on his shoulders as he sensually pounded you. Your pleas drove him mad, always asking for more... And by the seven, he loved it.

After your escapades, Lyney would make a point of carrying you to bed, cleaning you thoroughly with a warm towel and kisses lost on your skin. You quickly fell asleep under his gentle caresses, giving him the opportunity to whisper words of affection to your belly. His hands tenderly cradled your belly as he rested his head on it, feeling the slight movements of his little one.

[tofics]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write something about dean reacting to you getting your 🍒's pierced or him even finding out that they have been. Totally totally okay if not LOVE your work 🫶

Eeeek, my first request ever!!! 🤩 For that alone I'm inclined to make this as perfect as possible, but due to post-holiday brain-rot I can make no promises about the actual quality of what I'm about to produce. 🙈 I immediately had two ideas when I read this, so you're getting both.

Version 1 is just funny, whereas version 2 has a slight bit of angst to it, still a funny ending though. Hope you enjoy! 🤗

Warnings: nipple piercings, bare titties, exposing your 🍒's in front of strangers (willingly), some bleeding, canon typical violence (monster death)

POV: Dean finds out you got your nips pierced.

Version 1 "Sam, don't! He could be the shapeshifter, for all we know!" Dean pulled his brother back by the jacket. "A - a what?" The man in front of you stammered, his eyes blown wide in fear. You quickly hushed him. "It's okay, just get in there!" You were convinced this guy wasn't the shapeshifter. You knew it in your gut, but you knew that explanation wouldn't fly with Dean.

The four of you quickly pressed into the small bathroom. Dean had his gun pointed at the guy's throat, who was nervously eyeing the weapon. "It's okay", you assured him in a hushed whisper. "We'll get you out of here. Just give him the spoon, Sam." You nodded at the younger Winchester, who in turn started prodding his jacket. One pocket, another, then a quiet curse.

"I must've dropped it!"

You glanced at Sam in disbelief. Dean grunted, though he didn't take his eyes off of the stranger.

"Now what?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't have anything else silver on me. Do you?"

"I got lots of silver bullets," Dean growled, still clearly convinced that the poor soul trapped in this bathroom with you was the monster you were looking for. The man yelped quietly.

"Not helpful, Dean," you hissed, but the hunter just grunted.

"You got any better ideas?"

Silence filled the air as all three of you pondered over your current predicament. Then a lightbulb went off in your brain.

"I do, actually."

With swift movements, you handed your gun over to Sam and then began pulling your sweater off.

"Uh - what are you doing?" Sam stared at you like you had lost your mind and even Dean was glancing over at you as you began peeling your top upwards.

"My nipple piercings are made of silver," you explained casually. Sam's eyes grew wide while a vein popped out on Dean's temple. The man you were trying to save looked like he was trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. "If Dean's bullets are the only other silver thing we got, then I don't see any other way than this. I'm not blowing some guy's brain out just to be on the safe side," you continued.

Your top went over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra from the waist upwards. Sam's face had a funny color and Dean looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. His eyes briefly traveled down to your exposed cleavage, then quickly flicked back up to your face. "You can't be serious," Sam cut in.

"About my nipples being pierced or the piercings being silver?"

"About letting this guy touch you."

You brushed Sam's concern off with a tut. "Oh, hush. Don't be so prude. Now, go on," you said and undid the clasp of your bra with swift fingers.

Three loud inhales sounded as you revealed your boobs to the room. Sam's eyes immediately went towards the ceiling. The stranger briefly glanced at your tits with a pained expression before following suit with Sam, mumbling something about how surely, all of this just had to be a weird dream. Dean, however, took a good long look before a smile whisked across his lips.

"When'd you get this done?" He whispered with an appreciative tone.

"Couple of months ago," you replied, smiling back at him. "You like it?"

"Like it? Sweetheart, I-"

"Guys," Sam interrupted, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

"Right, right, sorry." You reached for the man's hand who jumped when your hand touched his. "Go on, dude. Just put a hand on it so we know you're good."

The guy made no move to do much of anything, so you gently lifted his hand to your chest until it made contact with one of your piercings. "Just a dream, just a dream," the man mumbled with his head still turned upwards and away from you. "Maybe I'm a shapeshifter too," Dean mumbled, his eyes on the man's hand pressed to your boob.

You grinned in reply. "See? He's good." The man's hand showed no signs of injury as you lifted it off of your chest again. "Now how about I get dressed again and we go find the actual son-of-a-bitch?"

Version 2 Sure, people warn against getting body alterations done under the influence of alcohol all the time. It's sort of an unwritten rule, the kind of common-sense one is just expected to have. But as booze tends to do, it prefers to link up with mischief instead. Common-sense is just so boring. Such a goody-two-shoes. The nay-sayer of all genius ideas. And clearly, that's what getting your nipples pierced is: a genius fucking idea.

At least so you thought last night while out and about with Jo. The two of you had teamed up in an effort to drink your shared sorrows away: you'd just come back from yet another hunt during which you'd felt belittled by Dean yet again, and Jo was in the midst of another heated fight with Elle about being allowed out for a hunt at all - again. Each dismissal had lit the fire of injustice within the both of you, and while your first few drinks were meant to quench the flames, they had the opposite effect, acting like fuel instead.

Soon, both you and Jo were slurring your respective rambles about your 'suppressors'.

"Just isn't fair." Jo slammed her fist down on the bar top, earning herself a quick glance from the bartender.

You shook your head woefully. "It isn't. They just don't see us. It's like we're invisible. Or babies. Invisible babies."

Jo pointed her finger at you. "Exactly! Invisible babies. But we're not! We're grown women, god dammit! Women! Would babies have boobs like that?" Her finger swayed from your face to your cleavage, followed diligently by the guy who sat two seats down from you. Your chin dropped to your chest as you glanced at your own boobs before meeting the eyes of the sleazy guy two seats over. A sluggish grin crawled over your lips. "Nice, aren't they?" A toothy grin appeared on the other patron's face. "Sure are, baby, sure are," he called back, causing you to look at Jo with triumph in your eyes. "See? He agrees too. No baby would have boobs like that."

Jo nodded, her head bobbing up and down in a wobbly fashion. "Cause he sees us. Not like my mom. Or Dean." She scowled, then downed another shot the bartender had dutifully lined up for you at your signal.

"We jus' gotta find a way to show 'em," you slurred. "Way to show how badass we are. Hmm." You nodded to yourself like you'd just said the most profound thing.

A moment of silence passed between you two girls before Jo's face suddenly lit up. "I got an idea."

As genius as it had seemed to you four shots in, the next morning, you weren't so sure anymore that piercing your nipples had been a genius move. It did look amazing (one glance in the mirror in the morning after waking up confused why your nips felt so damn sore had convinced you of that easily), but you still needed some convincing about the practicality of it as you got dressed and put on your clothes for the day. It proved as your first challenge: a bra was immediately out of the question after feeling how tight the material pressed against your sensitive and raw skin. You threw on a large, comfy t-shirt instead and paired it with an even larger sweater. Oversized clothes to the rescue.

As expected, your drinking spectacle of last night didn't go unnoticed by either of the boys. Sam's "Whoa, you look rough" got quickly followed up by a dry snort from Dean at the sight of you. "Jesus, you and Jo empty half a liquor store or something?" You only grumbled something unintelligible as a response while you fixed yourself some coffee from the small breakfast spread your motel offered.

While you nursed your coffee, Dean and Sam made a plan for the day. Their mission yesterday had been a bust - the empty factory had, in fact, not been the hiding place of the shapeshifter that the three of you were after, which left it still roaming about. You didn't partake in the planning process, partially due to your hangover, but mostly due to the fact that you were still hung up on your exclusion. For your own safety. Dean's reasoning had felt like a punch in the gut. Did he still not trust your abilities?

"Hey." You were pulled back to the present by fingers snapping in front of your face. "You with us?" Dean's eyes were searching your face as you zeroed back in on him. You grunt for a response had one of his brows raising, but he didn't comment on it, instead pulling you aside when the three of you headed out towards the parking lot.

"Are you okay?" You knew that look. Dean's scrutinizing gaze roamed over your face to look for the subtlest of clues. You'd made your protest heard loud and clear yesterday, and you read the subtext in his question with ease. Are we okay? You inhaled deeply as you stalled to answer. You were still upset with him, but you didn't have it in you to discuss his views on your involvement during hunts in your current state. Your head was pounding too much, and your nipples faintly felt like someone was holding a lighter to them. "Yeah. I'm okay," you responded with a sigh. Dean looked like he was about to object, clearly not buying your answer, but just then, Sam called out for the two of you.

Genius fucking idea. You gritted your teeth as you sprinted after the shapeshifter. Of course you'd end up in action the one day you didn't wear a bra. As if chasing supernatural beings wasn't challenging enough, you were now forced to awkwardly press your arms under your boobs for support as you ran down the damp alleyway. Because of your makeshift-bra, your gun was holstered between your hands right under your tits, aiming directly forward. It wasn't a safe way to run, nor a comfortable one, but you didn't have time to ponder either of those facts. The shapeshifter was getting away, and you couldn't let that happen.

You saw it turning a corner a couple hundred feet ahead of you and dashed after it, tits squeezed together in front of your chest like they were your main weapon and not your gun. The fabric of your shirt rubbed over your freshly pierced nips like sandpaper on wood and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself focused on the monster chase instead of the pain.

When you skid around the corner, you found the shapeshifter trapped between yourself and Dean on the other end of the back alley. It's head spun back and forth between you and him like a trapped animal and for a moment, it felt like time had frozen. Your eyes briefly flicked over to Dean, whose brows were furrowed in concentration and determination, and he shook his head at you ever so slightly.

The flush of anger inside your belly was hot and instant, yet before you had time to react, a loud shriek echoed through the alleyway and the shapeshifter launched itself your way.

It all happened so quickly that you acted more out of instinct than on rational thought. The kicks and blows to your body barely registered before a gunshot rang through the air and the monster's lifeless body dropped to the ground in front of you.

You stared at it, panting. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like fire being pumped through your body. It took you a second to register Dean's voice through the ringing in your ears.

"Hey. Hey. You okay? Are you hurt?" Hands were gripping you by the shoulders and you were spun sideways. You blinked a couple of times as Dean came into focus in front of you, concern etched into every fine line on his face. "Talk to me," he urged as his eyes feverishly scanned you up and down. You shook your head faintly, still dazed. "I'm fine." You'd taken down the shapeshifter yourself. You'd done it. You'd kicked ass.

A slow smile spread on your face as the realization set in. You had taken down a shapeshifter all by yourself. In front of Dean, no less. Now he had to see you.

"We got it, Sammy. Yeah. It's done. Uh-huh. No, she took it out." Dean glanced over at you as the two of you walked back to his car. You were still smiling smugly ear to ear. Dean looked like he'd been forced to eat a lemon whole.

"What d'you think? Of course not." He growled into the phone. You could imagine Sam's question without having heard it. You let her come? Dean had ordered you to stay in the car of course. But then you'd seen the shapeshifter run by. Who in their right mind would've stayed in their car at the sight?

"Uh-huh. Yeah. We'll meet you back at the motel." Dean hung up. Anger radiated off of him in quiet, shaky waves. Under any other circumstance, you would've been quaking in your boots right about now, wary of the storm that was about to come your way any second now. But not today. Today, you were flying high, fueled on by your win.

Dean settled into the driver's seat, but didn't start the car. Here we go, you thought. Speech incoming. Yet it didn't come. When you turned your head to look at him, you didn't find Dean staring you down, but frowning at your chest instead.

"You're bleeding."

Your own forehead crinkled up as you looked down on yourself. Two deep red spots were starting to bloom on your chest, right where... Crap.

You quickly slung an arm over your chest, covering up the two spots. "I, uh. It's fine." Though it felt anything but. You hadn't noticed it in the moment, but the monster had apparently struck you in the chest, right across your boobs. Your fresh piercings had seemingly not appreciated that move in the least. Now that you had been made aware of it, your nipples felt like they were on fire, pain striking through each boob like a spasm.

Dean's jaw tensed. In one swift move, he leaned in and plucked your arm from your chest, exposing the bloody spots on your sweater that were slowly growing in size. You could see his frown deepening as he examined your injuries. Warmth crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

"It's not fine. What did he do? I can't see puncture wounds. Why are you bleeding?"

Whatever triumph you had felt just a moment ago had ebbed away and was now being replaced by the icky sticky feeling of shame. You turned your head so he wouldn't see the embarrassment coloring you the same color as the spots on your sweater, but Dean spoke your name in a soft, yet stern voice.

You knew he wouldn't let this go.

You sighed deeply. "I got my nipples pierced." Your voice was barely above a murmur. Heat blazed from your cheeks and pain throbbed in your wounded nips.

For the first time ever since meeting Dean Winchester, he did not hit you with a quick comeback. The lack of a snarky reply was so jarring that you looked back at him, despite the embarrassment shining bright in your cheeks like Rudolph's nose.

Dean's face seemed to be frozen in a state somewhere between surprise and amusement. You stared at him for a moment before scoffing. "Just get it out." His eyes flickered from the bloody spots on your torso to your eyes and back, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Get what out?"

"The comments. Whatever you're dying to say. I know you've got some stupid shit already cooking in that brain of yours," you scoffed, and as if on cue, mischief glinted in his eyes.

"Actually," Dean started and flung a casual arm across your seat. "I think it's kind of hot."

The lack of reprimand caught you off guard so much that you could only stare at him.

"But I am gonna need details. Was it Jo's idea? Or yours?" Dean flashed a widespread grin at you and started the car. He was clearly enjoying himself.

You could only roll your eyes and groan.

"You know, I'll have to check when we're back. See how injured you are. Patch you up," he continued, the grin now stretching so wide that it almost went from ear to ear.

"Not a chance, Winchester."

Dean only snickered in return.

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[deanwinchestergf]

and why would an angel rescue me from hell? good things do happen dean. not in my experience. i'm not here to perch on your shoulder. i was getting too close to the humans in my charge. you. to everything there is a season. you made an exception for me. you're different. for what's worth, i would give anything not to have you do this. i learned my lesson while i was away, dean. i serve heaven, i don't serve men and i certainly don't serve you. but you guys aren't supposed to be there, you're not in this story. yeah, well, we're making it up as we go. i'm hunted, i rebelled and i did it all, all of it, for you. so what i'm thelma and you're louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together? i need your help because you're the only one who'll help me. that's a pretty nice timing, cas. we had an appointment. what happened to you cas? you used to be human, or at least like one. but cas, you'll call right? if you get into real trouble? this is cas, guys. he has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freaking times, don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least? it sounds so simple when you say it like that, where were you when i needed to hear it? i was there, where were you? i'm doing this for you, dean. i'm doing this because of you. but we were family once, i would've died for you, i almost did a few times. i've lost lisa, i've lost ben and now i've lost sam. don't make me lose you too. cas, you child, why didn't you listen to me. you used to fight together, bestest of friends, actually. if you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time. the very touch of you corrupts. when castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost. i'd rather have you, cursed or not. well, i'll go with you. i prayed to you cas, every night. cas, we're getting out of here, we're going home. i mean you kept saying you didn't think it would work, did you not trust me? cas, it's me. we need you, i need you. i won't hurt dean. cause you didn't trust me? you didn't trust me. please, man, i need you here. nobody wants him here more than i do. you gave us an order, castiel, and we gave you our trust. don't lose it over one man. you really believe we three will be enough? we always have been. his true weakness is revealed. you draped yourself with the flag of heaven but ultimately, it was all about saving one human. i'm glad you're here, man. how are you, dean? and then you'll kill the angel, castiel. now that one, that i suspect would hurt something awful. and when you turn, everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. everyone except me. i'm not gonna send lucifer into battle inside cas, what if he doesn't make it? it's not an it, sam. it's cas. but you're always there, you know? i could go with you. you mean too much to me, to everything. i'm gonna cure you of your human weakness, same way i cured my own. it's a gift, you keep those. you mean we? yes, dumbass, we. we lost everything and now you're gonna bring him back. we got cas back, that's a pretty damn big win. just don't get dead again. it's good to hear your voice. so this is goodbye? but i swear if he did something to her, if she's- then you're dead to me. either get on board or walk away. i don't know what's god and what isn't, and it's driving me crazy. dean, you asked what about all of this is real. we are. you used trust me, give me the benefit of the doubt, now you can barely look at me. i think it's time for me to move on. you didn't deserve that. since when do we get what we deserve? maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. i left but you didn't stop me. i should've stopped you. you're my best friend but i just let you go. and i forgive you, of course i forgive you. i'm sorry it took me so long, i'm sorry it took me til now to say it. you did it cas. okay, cas, i need to say something. you don't have to say it, i heard your prayer. well, here's to being right. you know what every other version of you did after gripping him tight and raising him from perdition? they did what they were told, but not you.