#and then changed some back to see what would keep it in. and i know for a fact that one of the sensitive words was f////t///////m | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cozycottagetarot · 1 day ago

Text

The Little Things That Drive Them Wild

Notes: I've been working on this all week, I'm depressed and on top of that burnt out and exhausted soooo sorry if I missed any mistakes!

💄 Reading Contents:

How Do You Unintentionally Captivate Them?

The Personality Traits They Find Magnetic

Your Everyday Charm

💋 Patreon Extended:

Moments When They Feel Weak for You

Their Favorite “Caught in the Act” Moments

How They Fantasize About Responding

This reading is for entertainment purposes only! Take only what resonates be it all, some or none! ✨

PILE 1

How Do You Unintentionally Captivate Them?

Cards: Page of Cups, Two of Wands, Sun,

For some reason, the first thing that comes to mind is someone caught mid-thought, their eyes kind of distant but soft, lost in a dream or musing about something exciting. There’s something so captivating about when you slip into those moments. It’s like you radiate this quiet, hopeful energy that makes your person wonder what’s going on in that mind of yours. To them, it's irresistible.

You also have this undeniable joy exuding from you. The kind that can infects others without them even noticing. When you’re fully in the moment, letting this joy pour out of you, it’s like the world around you disappears for your person. They’re completely pulled in without you even trying.

I also keep getting this image of you smiling—a genuine, effortless kind of smile—and your person being absolutely smitten. You seem to have this way of lighting up when you’re excited or happy, and it’s almost like they can’t help but feel it, too.

The Personality Traits They Find Magnetic

Cards: Knight of Swords, Death, Seven of Wands

The first thing that stands out is your ambition and drive—you don’t hesitate to charge forward when you’ve set your sights on something, and your person finds that magnetic. And it’s not just that you’re ambitious; it’s the way you act on it. You seek out transformation and change with a sense of confidence and purpose. There’s something so inspiring to your person about the way you embrace growth, even when it means taking risks or stepping into the unknown.

I also get that your fierceness is a big part of what draws them in. I feel like you don’t back down when it comes to defending what you believe in. Even in moments where you might not be 100% correct, the passion you bring when it comes to standing your ground is something your person finds strangely endearing. Part of what draws your person to you is that spitfire energy and the way you throw your whole heart into what you care about.

But you also have a softer energy that balances everything out. You’re someone who's generous and compassionate, maybe even without a second thought. You're the type of person who would stop everything to help an injured animal or lend a hand to someone in need without a second thought. It’s that blend of intensity and gentleness that makes keeps the hooked. Your person loves how multi-dimensional you are—someone who can fight for their beliefs one moment and show deep compassion the next.

Your Everyday Charm

Cards: Five of Cups, Five of Wands, Wheel of Fortune, Ace of Cups

There’s something about you that comes across as a bit mysterious... I feel like in quieter moments when you’re lost in thought or just keeping to yourself, your person may feel like they take the time to really see you. What I mean by this is the little details about you such as the way your features soften when you’re deep in your own world.

I don’t know if you’re someone who fidgets or has a habit of touching things, but it feels like they notice those small quirks. Maybe it’s the way you twirl your hair, tap your fingers, or run your hand over a textured surface— but whatever it is, it’s something they can’t help but find endearing. I'm also getting that in moments where you’re being challenged by others, you may observe before reacting. If they're with you, it’s like they can see the gears turning in your head. They love watching you process things, almost like they’re trying to understand your inner workings of your mind.

There’s also this magical quality about you, like you have this ability to make life feel filled with magic in the simplest of ways. You might not even realize it, but somehow you make them feel like they’re living in a dream. There’s a sweetness to the way you show care, whether it’s through small, everyday gestures or moments where you’re pouring into your person or your relationship. Even mundane things—like making them a cup of coffee, fixing their hair, or just sitting next to them—feel enchanted for your person.

💋 Discover what makes them weak for you, their favorite “Caught in the Act” moments, and how they fantasize about responding (not a spicy reading). Plus, unlock exclusive extended readings for all my other PACs when you join The Cozy Corner for just $1.50 USD (and up). Check it out here.✨

PILE 2

How Do You Unintentionally Captivate Them?

Cards: Five of Wands, Three of Cups, Death

The first thing that comes to mind is your ability to adapt effortlessly to different environments and social circles. It’s like you could seamlessly blend into one group today and an entirely opposite group tomorrow, without missing a beat. This could stem from a survival mechanism you developed throughout your life, but it’s become second nature—a part of who you are. Your ability to navigate these social dynamics with ease is likely something your person finds captivating.

There’s also a strong sense of resilience about you. The way you handle conflict or challenging situations seems graceful, almost effortless, even when the odds are stacked against you. Your person might be struck by how you manage to remain composed under pressure and spin difficult moments into opportunities for growth. They might admire the way you emerge from the other side of hardship renewed, stronger, and ready to embrace what’s next.

Beyond that, there’s a warm, supportive energy radiating from you. Whether you’re celebrating with others or offering comfort, you seem to have a knack for making people feel at ease. I also get a sense of enchantment from these cards, almost as if there’s a spark of magic in how you carry yourself. For some reason, Tinker Bell comes to mind—maybe it’s a reminder of your playful, whimsical side or your ability to light up a room in unexpected ways. Maybe it's a confirmation for something you've been pondering on for a bit.

The Personality Traits They Find Magnetic Cards: Seven of Cups (Reversed), Page of Pentacles, The Emperor

You give off an energy of someone who is grounded, decisive, and incredibly self-assured. You have an ability to cut through the noise (of life really). While others might get lost in daydreams or overwhelmed by choices, you’re someone who sees clearly and knows exactly what you want. Your person could likely find this decisiveness magnetic, as it exudes a quiet confidence that feels stable and dependable.

I think you also bring a unique blend of practicality and creativity to the table. You’re someone who can take even the smallest spark of an idea and nurture it into something tangible. You have the focus and drive to bring dreams to life, and that’s an inspiring quality. It’s like you’re the one people look to when they need a plan or want to see something through. You come across as someone who knows how to take charge and create stability, whether in your own life or for those around you. Your person might admire how dependable you are, someone they (and others) can rely on for solid advice or a calm presence in chaotic times. I also feel like you're someone who puts the time and effort in and that's something that just does it for your person.

Your Everyday Charm Cards: Wheel of Fortune, The World, Five of Pentacles

There’s something charming about how you carry yourself through life’s ups and downs and not just the significant moments but the little ones too. Like missing a bus, running late for work, running out of something when you need it (I hope you get the gist lol). I also feel like your person sees beauty not just in your appearance (although that's emphasized as well) but in the way you quietly navigate the dull moments and short term disappointments we experience. You have a way of picking yourself up and boosting your spirit that is endearing. On a daily level, it might be the little things you do to create beauty in your life, no matter the circumstances. Think how you decorate your spaces, plate your food, cultivate a cozy moment.

Your person really admire how you’re able to turn the simplest things into something special, creating a life that feels fulfilling and intentional even when resources are limited. You don’t need the latest trends or expensive items—you can take something as humble as a few old books or scraps and turn them into something that feels genuinely valuable.

Your person notices the way you focus on making things better, no matter the circumstances, and finds it charming and hard to ignore.

Pile 3

How You Unintentionally Captivate Them

Cards: Death, Judgement. The Emperor, The Hierophant

It’s not just one thing—it’s everything about you that pulls them in without you even realizing it. There’s this grounded, unshakeable energy you carry, but it’s wrapped in a quiet elegance that feels so effortless. It’s not about trying to stand out; you just do. The way you move through life—intentional, steady, and composed—creates a presence that people can’t help but notice. Even in chaos, you somehow stay calm, like you’re the eye of the storm.

What really gets them is how deeply you focus on what’s in front of you. It’s like the world blurs around you, and you’re completely in your element. Whether it’s the way your hands move when you’re busy, the calm in your voice when you’re speaking, or the determination in your eyes when you’re locked into something—it’s magnetic. They can’t look away.

It’s in the small, subtle things, too. The way you pay attention to details, how you seem to elevate even the simplest moments, or that quiet confidence you have without even trying. Maybe it’s the way you smile, how kind you are in little ways, or the natural grace you bring into every interaction. It feels like you make life more beautiful just by being in it.

There’s this perfect balance between your strength and your calmness that they can’t get enough of. You’re firm but approachable, confident but kind, and it’s just captivating. They admire how you move through life and how you make them feel just by being yourself.

The Personality Traits They Find Magnetic

Cards: Four of Cups, Eight of Wands, Queen of Wands, Strength

Your person is attracted to how intentional you are about what you let into your world. You don’t say “yes” just to go along with things or settle for something that doesn’t feel right. Your discerning nature makes you stand out and pulls them in.

There’s also the way you move through life with an air of purpose, momentum, and confidence. You don’t linger too long in “what ifs” or overthinking; you simply trust yourself to make the right call and go for it. It makes watching you in action thrilling for your person as you bring this bright, unstoppable energy wherever you go. You’re bold, and you own it, but it never feels forced. It’s just you, shining naturally.

I do think that what makes you really magnetic to your person is how you balance your boldness with gentleness. Beneath all you passion and creativity, there’s a softness that makes people feel safe and seen. It’s in the way you treat others with kindness and show care without making a big deal about it. Even when you’re chasing your passions, you always seem to carry this warmth and thoughtfulness.

Your Everyday Charm

Cards: Wheel of Fortune, Justice, Nine of Pentacles

Somehow, you manage to make the simplest moments feel special, like everything you touch has a hint of magic to it. Even the way you go about your routine feels intentional, like you’re crafting a life that’s all your own.

I know I keep saying it, but the balance you keep on a daily basis charms your person. You’ve got this knack for keeping things in harmony, be it work, downtime, or fun, and on top of that you make it look so natural. It’s not about chasing perfection either, you just do what works for you. I think your person admires this so much.

I think you also manage to genuinely enjoy your everyday life and your person loves that about you. You don’t wait for big moments to feel happy—you find joy in the small stuff. Whether it’s sipping your favorite tea, throwing on an outfit that makes you feel amazing, or stopping to notice something beautiful, you have this way of savoring life that’s so refreshing.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a pile reading #pick a picture #pac #tarot reading #cozycottagetarot #pick an image #cozycottagetarot readings #your person #future spouse #love tarot #free tarot reading #free reading tarot

275 notes · View notes

yazzwrites6962 · 1 day ago

Text

Trouble ♡ Silco (Arcane)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Young!Silco x Fem!Vander'sSister!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! This was not my idea! I got this idea from @truezaunite. Hopefully this turned out how you'd hoped :) Also, I am finally done with finals! So hopefully I can get back on track with practicing my writing. Although, I may be changing my major. That's some extra stress. I don't own any characters/images.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Vander's younger sister finally returns after eight years away from home. She was once a pesky little girl, following Vander and Silco everywhere they went. Now, she's grown into a bold, confident young woman. Silco finds himself drawn to her in a way he never thought would happen before.

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, intoxication, suggestive content, romantic tension, family tension, harsh expressions

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The dim lights of the Last Drop flickered casting shadows over the bar where Silco sipped at his bitter drink. Vander stood behind the counter, polishing a glass, before a sudden grin tugged at his lips. He looked up at Silco, placing the glass down on the counter.

"She'll be here any minute now." He said, in awe, as if the realization of what was about to happen finally set in. He sighed happily, throwing his rag over his shoulder as his large frame leaned against the bar.

"Your sister?" Silco muttered, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. Vander had casually mentioned your upcoming return a couple weeks ago. "The one who used to follow us around everywhere like a lost pup?"

"She's not so much of a pup anymore, Silco." Vander chuckled. "It's been, what, eight years now? She's grown into her own and doing well from what I hear in her letters."

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Vander jolted with anticipation, but Silco turned lazily. He expected to see the same, wide-eyed little girl he once knew. Instead, walked in a woman who moved with confidence, her gaze sharp as a knife. Your boots stomped against the wooden floors as you approached the men, a warm smile on your face.

"Vander!" You exclaimed, hurrying behind the bar and jumping into your brother's arms. His arms wrapped around you, squeezing you as if he feared you would slip away from him again.

"Welcome back, Y/N." He sighed, glad to finally have his precious little sister home. He pulled back, holding you by the shoulders and taking in the sight before him. "By Janna, you've gotten big! You look... well... you look like trouble!"

Silco watched from his stool as your banter with Vander continued. His usually sharp tongue was momentarily silenced. You were nothing like he had remembered. Your scrawny limbs and irritatingly squeaky voice were nowhere to be found. You were poised, witty, and beautiful.

"Still as broody as ever?" You giggle, snapping Silco from his thoughts as you waved your hand in front of his face. He gulped, attempting to hide his nervousness.

"I see you're still just as obnoxiously loud as I recall." He smirked, picking up his glass and taking a sip. His heart was pounding, and he had only hoped that his cool drink would calm his nerves. "I'm curious, what kept you away so long?"

"Traveling. Learning. Surviving. You know, the usual." You said, plainly, crossing your arms with a playful defiance. You wouldn't give him a proper answer. "Vander never let me feel too far from home, though. His letters kept me sane."

"Someone had to keep you in line." Vander chortled. "Even from across the world." You rolled your eyes, settling in the seat right beside Silco's.

"Now I'm back, so you can rest easy, Vander." You reached out, taking Silco's drink from in front of him and taking a sip. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach as your lips brushed the rim of his glass.

You continued to catch up with Vander, but Silco's eyes never left you. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself, which left him feeling uncharacteristically unsettled.

As the night wore on, the bar filled with the usual chatter of patrons. Vander grew busier and busier keeping his establishment running. You found yourself sitting alone with Silco as Vander ran back and forth, keeping the customers happy.

"I should probably get going." You said, sliding Silco's glass back over to him. "I've got a lot to unpack. Tell Vander I'll be back tomorrow, yeah?" You didn't want to interrupt your brother's work. Besides, if you tried to say goodbye, Vander would only try to keep you there all night.

"Of course." Silco smirked, his finger running along the glass. "I'm sure I can speak for both Vander and I when I say it's good to have you back home."

"it's good to be back." You chuckled, placing a finger b=beneath Silco's chin and lifting him to meet your eyes. You could see the pink dusting his cheeks as you did so. "Don't miss me too much, now. See you in the morning."

You turned away, waving to Vander as you walked out of the bar. Silco huffed, frustrated with the realization that you were definitely trouble, as Vander had previously remarked.

"Now, what're you smirking for?" Vander grumbled with suspicion, returning to the bar and setting down a tray of dishes to clean. The Last Drop had emptied slightly after you left.

"She's certainly not what I anticipated." He tried to keep his tone casual, but the waiver in his voice was undeniable. Vander raised an eyebrow.

"I swear Silco, you'd better not be planning on roping her into another one of your schemes." Vander shook his head disapprovingly at his friend.

"Relax. I'm not planning anything." He leaned back in his seat, remembering just how protective Vander always was over you. "Just reacquainting. After all, she's family."

"Yeah, well just don't go getting any slick ideas." Vander warned, not fully trusting that Silco wasn't plotting something. "She's got enough to deal with out there. She doesn't need you adding more to her plate."

"Of course not." Silco waved his hand dismissively, but his thoughts betrayed him. The memory of your teasing touch lingered, leaving him more flustered than he would like to admit. "Though... Tell me Vander... Why do I get the feeling she could hold her own against anyone or anything, even you?" Vander paused, contemplating Silco's word for a moment before a smile of pride lit his face.

"Because she can."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You had been back in your hometown for the past few months. Most of your time was spent helping in your brother's bar. The Last Drop was unusually lively tonight. People shouted over the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. Silco was in no mood for the ruckus. He sat in the corner with a half-empty bottle of his favorite drink.

"Drinking all by yourself? How sad." Your voice suddenly poked through the chatter. He turned to spot you right beside him, taking the seat to his left without asking permission.

"Maybe I prefer to be in the company of my thoughts tonight." He slurred, a scowl on his face as he grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. He sure would need it, if you were going to stick around.

"Jeez. Here I thought you were happy to see me." You raised an eyebrow, taking the bottle from his hands and pouring a glass for yourself. He shivered as your fingers brushed against his in the exchange.

"You have such a way of making things complicated." He grumbled; the alcohol having loosened his tongue. His mind was foggy, and the room spun around him.

"Complicated? Me?" You questioned, a giggle erupting from your throat. "What did I do this time?" You saw Silco hesitate, swirling the liquid in his glass. The room felt warmer than before, and his usually guarded mind betrayed him.

"You... You make me feel things. Things I shouldn't be feeling." He replied, leaning forward against the table in attempt to still his dizziness.

"What are you talking about?" Your laughter faltered, replaced by a cautious curiosity. He looked up at you, softly, his usually sharp eyes clouded by something you couldn't name.

"You." He growled. "It's always you. It's always been you. You walk in suddenly after eight years, and nothing else matters. It's distracting. It's frustrating. Infuriating."

"Are you drunk?" You question immediately, choosing not to put too much thought into his words. He's just talking nonsense. At least, that's what your initial reaction was.

"Perhaps." He leaned back in his seat, shutting his eyes. "That doesn't make it any less true." Silco was not usually the type to allow himself to be too intoxicated. You bite your lip, your cheeks burning.

On the one hand, you wanted to explore more into his words. You wanted to understand his feelings. What he meant. However, you knew you shouldn't be prying into the private matters of a drunk man. Especially not Silco. You cared for him.

"You really know how to throw a girl off her game, don't you?" You joked, taking the bottle from the table and placing it far enough that Silco wouldn't be able to reach.

"Just forget about it." He grumbled, opening his palm and sitting up, expecting you to return the bottle to him. He noticed you taking it away. He hoped you would just leave him to continue his drinking in peace.

"No." You spoke sternly. "No more drinking tonight for you, and no. I won't forget about it," Silco groaned, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes once more. "But maybe I don't want to."

His eyes shot open, flickering to meet yours. Before you could continue, Vander called your name, needing assistance with the flow of customers rushing through the door. You stood, quickly smoothing your clothes.

"We'll talk more about this later." You winked, hurrying to help your brother. Silco watched you go, his heart pounding harder than it ever had. For better or for worse, the truth was out, and there was no way of taking it back.

But maybe he didn't want to.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The storage room behind the Last Drop became a sanctuary for you and Silco. The dim lighting and cluttered shelves provided just enough privacy for your secret meetings, and tonight was no different.

Silco pressed you against the wall, lips feverish against yours. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other gripped at your waist.

"You're going to be the death of me." He murmured against your lips, his hands exploring your body. He peppered kisses along your jawline, traveling down your neck. You hummed, hands gripping at his hair and clothing, pulling him closer into you.

"What the hell is this?!" Vander's voice boomed, his large frame filling the doorway. Neither you nor Silco had heard the door open. You sighed, calmly adjusting your clothing. Silco looked as though his soul had left his body.

"It's exactly what it looks like." You said boldly, surprising both men with your fearlessness. "I know this is a shocker. You don't have to like it, but you will respect it."

Silco nervously looked between you and Vander, half expecting to be punted across the room at any moment. Vander's lips pressed into a thin line as he looked down at you. You grabbed Silco's hand, intertwining your fingers to try and sooth his anxiety. Finally, Vander let out a sigh.

"If you hurt her-" His expression softened as he realized he was glad you'd chosen Silco, not some stranger he didn't trust. You interrupted before Vander could finish his sentence.

"He won't." You smiled, feeling Silco's grip loosing as his heart calmed. Vander eyed Silco, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had just caught his best friend sucking face with his little sister.

"I won't." Silco nodded. "You have my word." Vander sighed once again, turning out of the doorway and muttering something about how he was too old to deal with this. You were alone with Silco again, and a smile played at your lips.

"You're trouble, you know that?" Silco let out a breath, wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead. You giggled, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Mhmm, but I'm your trouble now."

#reader x character #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #arcane x you #arcane x reader #young silco #silco x reader #arcane silco #silco arcane #reader x arcane #arcane x y/n #arcane x female reader #young silco x reader

180 notes · View notes

endearng · 1 day ago

Text

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid fanfic #cm fanfic #doctor spencer reid

154 notes · View notes

nsharks · 1 day ago

Note

pls give us some blurb😔 I'm so sad today😔😔😔

Here is my revised preview for the next part!

"Hold him close to your chest, or he'll jump out of your arms. Here—like this."

Blue gently cradles the rabbit against her chest, then carefully tucks him into Ari's arms, guiding his hands to scoop under Grim's fluffy rear. She can't help but find it amusing that the boy who had taken her riding on such a large animal yesterday looks so wary holding a harmless bunny. A giggle bubbles up, and she bites her lip to keep it in.

"He's so... squirmy."

Blue keeps her hand on Grim, reassuring both the rabbit and him. "He's just ready for his breakfast. Want to help me feed him?"

"Sure."

Blue leads Ari to the hutch where the other rabbits are. She explains her morning routine, showing him how to supply the rabbits with enough grass, leaves, and berries to keep them healthy and plump. Not long ago, she was explaining this to Twix—the very person she forgot to say good morning to in a rush to find Ari outside. This time around, she wonders if Ari is genuinely interested or just being polite. She finds herself stealing glances at his face, studying his expressions perhaps longer than she should. His almond-shaped eyes and dark pink lips catch her attention.

He's cute.

It's not the first time the thought has crossed her mind since these strangers appeared. Cute like the men in her magazines, though he's not quite a man. Not in the way Ghost is. But he's taller than her by a head and two years older, evident in the notch on his throat and the deeper timbre of his voice.

But it doesn't matter. They are only here for a few days.

Blue closes the hutch and rocks on the soles of her boots. "Well, that was probably boring, huh? We could, um, go hunting if you want. Or to the pond. It's fun to swim there. Or maybe—" She pauses, mentally sifting through the limited activities available, frustration creeping in as none of them seem particularly impressive.

"This wasn't boring," Ari says with a chuckle. "Now I know rabbits are just as friendly as horses."

"They are... except when Grim gets mad. Then he can be a bit of a jerk. Like if you accidentally step on his tail."

"I'd be pretty pissed if someone stepped on my tail, too."

"You don't have a tail."

"It's just a joke."

"Oh..." she fidgets with a strand of hair. "Right."

"The pond sounds good. It is fucking hot." Ari blows out a breath and swipes at the back of his neck.

"I know. So hot. Hot as balls."

Ari raises an amused brow. "Yeah, uh, hot as balls. Are you allowed to go by yourself, or do we need to ask your dad?"

"I get to do what I want," she lies easily with a shrug. "Buuuuut, we can ask Twix to go with us."

As long as Twix is with her, she suspects she can get away with not asking Ghost, who luckily is hunting with his old captain. It's not that he seems distrusting with these people as he did those first few months with Twix. Rather—she isn't thrilled about him knowing every little thing she does. She's never had anything just to herself.

Twix is sitting on the porch, looking rather deep in thought as she skins a squirrel. Her hair is long, curtaining her face. When Blue asks if she wants to go to the pond, she agrees easily, claiming she has been meaning to cut her hair anyway with the encroaching warmth of summer. Nereida joins, too.

The pond water is cool to the touch. Ari rips his shirt off and jumps in without even a second to waste. Blue usually swims in her underwear and shirt, but she hesitates with her thumb in the belt loops of her jeans. She didn't consider that he would see her in her underwear.

A soft touch to her shoulder. It's Twix. "Want me to grab you shorts real quick?"

"Um... yes. Yes please."

She changes into the shorts behind a tree. There is an odd pit in her stomach when she gets in the water. She doesn't quite know what it is, but it's similar to how she feels when she's scared sometimes. Ghost always tells her fear is a useless thing. It doesn't keep you alive. So she ignores it, shoves it down deep, and swims over to Ari with a purposeful splash that even wets Twix, who sits at the edge sharpening her knife.

"Damn. That's gonna cost you."

A splash is given in return, and then they are playing. High noon bounces shimmering light off the water as she tries to keep up with him, but at one point he sneaks up on her and she ends up with a mouthful. Nereida spends her time picking at some bunches of rosemary and Twix cuts her hair. But Blue doesn't notice any of that too much. When the water stills and they pause to catch their breath, Ari climbs onto a rock and shakes out his wet curls. She is quick to find a perch beside him. Absentmindedly, she pinches the bottom of her wet shirt to keep it from sticking to her chest.

"It's nice to have some place to swim so close by. Back at our old camp, there was lake but it was a few miles away, so my mom rarely let me go."

"I'm sorry, you know. About your mom. Mine is dead, too."

He half-smiles. "Thanks. I don't think about it too much anymore. My uncle and I have always been close so it helped to have him there." He nudges her shoulder. "You're damn lucky to have such a cool dad, huh?"

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, that guy is a beast. My uncle says they called him Ghost because no one could ever see him coming before suddenly, they were dead."

"Oh, yeah, he is super cool," she quickly agrees. "He has taught me a lot."

"Shit, really?"

Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she nods. "I know... I know how to throw knives pretty well."

"I gotta see that." His eyes flash behind her. "So what's up with his girlfriend?"

"Huh?" A divot forms between her brows before she follows his gaze, landing on Twix, whose hair is now just past her shoulders. She is wetting it, running her fingers through the newly cut strands. "Oh—Twix. That is not his girlfriend. She is my friend."

"You mean they don't sleep together?"

"Like in the same bed?"

"That's usually where people fuck, yeah."

He seems ready to laugh. She frowns, head tilting as confusion hums in her chest. "You mean like sex?"

He nods. "You know what that is, right?"

She quickly recovers. "Yeah, of course. Ghost told me all about it."

"You know they're probably doing it, right?"

"Ghost and Twix? No—no," she forces a laugh. "I mean, sometimes I catch him staring at her all weird. But I don't think—I mean, they hardly like each other and she is my friend, really, not his. He used to make me stay away from her, even. But I mean, they do spend a lot of time together now. It's usually to practice fighting and defense. Not to have...sex."

"Don't they share a room?"

"Just right now, because you guys are here."

Ari chuckles. "You really think they aren't doing it in there? She's really pretty. There's no way they aren't."

Blue looks back at Twix. She is pretty. And she has actual boobs. Blue's fingers curl into the soaked fabric of her top.

Her eyes flick back to him. "She would've told me if they were."

#ask #simon ghost riley #zombie apocolypse au #simon ghost riley x reader

130 notes · View notes

endursent · 4 hours ago

Text

My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (4)

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

【 note; im sorry. this is so long... lol. 】

【 word count; 11.150 | read on ao3 | hsr reader ver | gi his ver | hsr his ver 】

Alhaitham;

He usually wouldn’t allow pets in the house… not because he dislikes them—Alhaitham simply wouldn’t want to have to clean up the hairs that fall off you after moving between every spot you lie down in.

Nevertheless… here he is, with a brush in hand as he tries to get it out of the sheets. You sit next to him apologetically (getting more hairs into the same sheet where you’re currently sitting, of course) and watch as he scoops it into a small bag. Alhaitham sets the bag aside and picks you up easily with one hand, his large palm lifting under your tummy and plopping you back down on his lap as he turns back to brushing your hairs away.

Feeling eyes on himself, Alhaitham looks down to see your large, round cat-eyes looking up at him, tail swaying.

He put you in his lap—doesn’t that mean it’s petting time?

Where’s your damn attention?

Slightly exasperated, Alhaitham tries to multitask and pet you while he's scooping your hair—but more keeps tossing around with every upstroke of your thick fur… why did you have to turn into a hairball? Couldn’t you have been a hairless cat? He’s almost tempted to just put you in the bag.

He’s a respectable “pet owner”, but does lack in one aspect that’s quite important to you, at least… perhaps not all cats

No kisses??

You’d at least like some on your head—he doesn’t have to kiss your nose or anything. Though you shouldn’t be surprised, Alhaitham isn’t very forthcoming with his affections and most of your casual kisses are by your initiation and his response to it.

So now you have to effectively smush your furry little head into his face to communicate that you want kisses.

It takes him a few tries to understand what you need, but thankfully he got it rather easily, smart lad.

Kaveh sometimes catnaps (kidnaps) you for… cat naps. He says it’s nicer than hugging his own pillow—and you don’t particularly mind, but Alhaitham does. Once he can’t find you after a general sweep of the house he figures Kaveh took you again and like a seasoned thief, swaps you out with a pillow while the architect is asleep.

“Hmph… he should get his own cat,” Alhaitham says to himself after shutting the door quietly, holding you like a baby in his arms, your paws in the air. He looks down, grey hair tilting over his eyes as he smiles only slightly. “What? You are my cat. Perhaps I should call you kitty from now on, even after you’ve changed back.”

You tried to climb onto the back of the chain in the study when Alhaitham was doing some studies once, but quicker than you could react—even with these new cat reflexes—he grabs you by the scruff of your neck and hoists you off. “You’re scratching the furniture,” he moves you from the back of the chair and plops you down on his lap. “Do refrain from doing that.”

Hmph. You wanted to bite his hair a bit… it smells nice. But fine. Lap it is, you can settle for that.

It takes you about two and a half minutes not to be satisfied with that, and lounge over his book instead, hoping he’ll stop and pay attention to you instead. You have a feeling he would do the same if he were in your position.

Alhaitham seems annoyed for a few seconds, but he only needs to stare into your big, cute cat-eyes for a few seconds to fold. What can he do? It doesn’t take much for you already to rope him into whatever shenanigans the day brings, and especially not like this.

Arataki Itto;

You just wanted a nice, cool nap.

It’s hot as balls in Inazuma, and you found an excellent spot under a slanted roof. You got comfortable and were half asleep already when you’re suddenly dragged off the crate and raised in the air like a divine heir.

Flailing in protest, your screaming of; “PUT ME DOWN YOU OAF” isn’t translated very well into frantic meows and hisses.

And of course, Itto has no idea what you’re trying to communicate—in fact, he thinks you’re just a bit surprised yet happy to see him. He sets you on his shoulder and you hold on for dear life. He’s broad, but broad muscles are also rather round and his outfit isn’t easy to grab onto—you just thank feline evolution that you have good balance and can hold yourself somewhat steady.

He sometimes just parades you around on his head like a strange hat, he doesn’t even seem to mind the death grip you have on his scalp.

Best naps, laying out in the grass on a warm summer’s day as the bright rays of the sun shine down on you. It’s comfortably warm, your fur keeps you cool enough that you don’t get lightheaded—despite popular belief, Itto is not a snorer, but he is a hugger.

You’re caged against his broad chest and there’s little escape or ways to wake him without scratching, biting or wailing like you’re trapped under a boulder.

Itto is a seasoned pet owner, he has multiple beetles that he takes good care of and thus he’s surprisingly adept at handling you. He doesn’t toss you around (except to put you on his shoulders or head) and doesn’t lock you out of the house or forget to feed you. In fact, you’d say he’s a top-notch owner, though you might be slightly biased.

The summer days are warm in Inazuma, and sometimes one just needs to do something to keep their mind off of the heat. Even with your coat protecting you from most of it, even you are starting to get dazed by the sharp, overbearing heat of the sun. And Itto is also very good at filling empty time.

He takes you out to the beach, though it wasn’t the best idea—he thought it was genius, the ocean is cool enough, there are not many around on the eastern beaches because of the awkward positioning and further distance from the city… but he didn’t take it into account that you absolutely refuse to get in the water, and there’s no shade. So that idea gets abandoned quickly.

For some reason he loves to touch your nose; poke it, kiss it, rub it… anything. And every time he does, you have to wet it again—it almost becomes a funny game to him to touch your nose and watch as your tongue darts out to wet it again.

Being unable to communicate with you isn’t a problem, he’s a yapper and can talk enough for the two of you. You try to meow along in response to show that you’re listening, but even if there was no brain behind your eyes, he’d still talk your ears off.

He creates a makeshift cat-bed for you out of some blankets and cushions, Itto was rather proud of himself for the craft that went into making it as soft as it is…

It still always ends up with you on his chest or legs at the end of the night. Without exception.

Baizhu;

He really scratches his head over this situation, how did this happen to you? You had gone out to deliver some medicine to those who aren’t well enough or mobile to come fetch it themselves, and had stayed out far longer than usual—Baizhu had started to worry and nearly had gone to look for you… when a cat with your eyes and mannerisms stumbles into the pharmacy meowing up a storm trying to explain itself.

Distressed, confused and much smaller than you’re used to being, Baizhu quickly scoops you up into his arms to calm you down. “Do not worry, I recognise you,” he assures—he feels a little silly saying this to a cat, and has a twinge in the back of his mind that he might be wrong. But the way you’re waving your paw is strangely… human, though muddled by the restrictions of your cat-joints.

Changsheng however, finds this HILARIOUS. She unwinds a bit from Baizhu’s shoulders and nearly bumps snouts with you as she wonders whether you were even fully aware of yourself, and after some arguing—in the form of loud yowling and meowing—they concluded that yes, your mind is well.

Baizhu tries everything he can think of, but he’s never really encountered a situation like this before and he has to use a lot of his attention to theory-crafting and tests.

The only thing that made a difference, was that one concoction he crafted made your ears twice larger… but it didn’t change you back. So now you just have unnaturally large ears for a cat.

He smiles sheepishly as he examines you to make sure nothing else is affected. “Ah… apologies, my dear. I don’t mean to laugh… but the ears,” he tries his best not to smile too widely, or give a soft laugh. But it’s difficult, you look so disproportionate it’s just adorable.

Despite your grievance over your proportions, Baizhu can’t help but rub your ears and scratch behind them. He gives you some good treats as an apology. You reluctantly accept.

Unfortunately, Baizhu has a job to do and can’t just close the pharmacy off from his assistance to tend to you. He multitasks as much as he can, but there are scheduled appointments to be present for.

But he has a good idea of how to utilise you, after all, you’re the usual deliverer—customers likely won’t mind if you’re cat-sized.

Thus, he gets some help from contacts and a day later you have a fancy harness with a delivery box on your back. Baizhu sets some medicine in it and fastens it properly so it won’t slip off and you don’t feel too constrained… and sets you on your way.

You were getting bored lounging around in the pharmacy anyway, so you revel in getting to stretch your legs a bit. You make the deliveries in record time, able to get through tiny crevices you weren’t able to before and hope through shortcuts you didn’t even know about.

As you return to the pharmacy after the final run, Baizhu smiles and kneels down in front of you, removing the harness and scratching where the lines of it had pressed against your fur. The nice feeling of being pet brings a rumbling purr from your chest and your tail sways happily as he gives you some water to drink and attention.

“Good work today,” he strokes between your large ears and rubs his thumb on your cheek. “It’s almost time to close up, let’s go upstairs and continue trying to figure out how to turn you back.”

The soft ambient light of the room and the sound of Baizhu’s brush stroking against the paper of a scroll makes you much more tired than you expected. You lay curled up on the desk against the wall where he sits and writes formulas and theories, Changsheng slithers up next to you and bundles herself on your back—it’s not particularly comfortable, but you’re too lazy to move, and it’s kind of cute.

Baizhu hums to himself and looks at you, his gaze lingers for only a short time before returning to the scroll in front of him.

Cyno;

He stares at the cat in Tighnari’s hands, his eyes look up to the man holding you and then back down. “What.”

The ranger deadpans and plops you into his arms. “I’ve been scouring the library for days while you were in the desert, I don’t know what happened, but it’s just how they are right now.”

Cyno lifts you up by holding your torso under your front legs, he peers at your face as you dangle like an idiot but have no way to really wriggle away. “Blink twice if it’s really you.”

You blink twice.

“Huh,” he just makes a sound of affirmation, then tucks you under his arm. “Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”

Tighnari stares at him, unimpressed by his lack of reaction to the fact that his partner is currently a small, furry cat. “You're not going to ask where I found them, how I know it’s them or how my progress is going when it comes to turning them back?”

Cyno is silent for a beat before he speaks again. “I know it’s them, I know their eyes.”

Somehow, the duty of getting you back to normal remained on Tighnari’s back, and Cyno sets you down on the dining table in your shared home. He folds his arms over his chest and analyses you, it’s a little awkward—you’re not sure why he’s staring so intensely at you.

“This is… quite the cat-astrophe—”

Oh no.

You have no way to stop him, and though you usually let him get it out of his system once he feels the need… you could also stop him once it gets out of hand. In this form, you’re effectively defenceless and unable to protest in any meaningful ways.

Thankfully, he does stop after you dive under your bed and hide for ten minutes in hopes he won’t drag you back and perform stand-up for you for the rest of the night.

Once Cyno is assured this strange transformation isn’t dangerous nor necessarily permanent, he’s rather laid back about it. He finds it quite funny (evidently) and there’s no way around it, you’re cute like this. Not that he didn’t consider you cute before, but it’s especially unavoidable now.

There’s no real way to stop him from making jokes or puns about this situation, it’s in his soul—and though you wouldn’t trade his soul for the world, you get moments of temptation when his brain hyperfocuses on one thing to centre his jokes around.

They get a bit tired.

You follow him around everywhere, it’s not like you’ve got better places to be. He thinks it’s rather adorable to see you trotting around at his heels as he walks through the city, though he tells you to remain home when he has work to do—it can turn dangerous sometimes, depending on the day, and he recognises that your body is smaller and more fragile than it used to be.

He does always come back right away, he wraps up any follow-ups and paperwork as quickly as he can—if only for the moments of arrival. Of opening the front door and being greeted by you sitting at the entrance of your home, staring up at him with a swaying tail. Waiting excitedly.

Dainsleif;

You’ve never seen this expression on his face, in the moments after you touched a strange-looking artefact, there’s a poof—and your body shifts to that of a small cat. It wasn’t painful, nor do you feel as if you were cursed in any way.

“... meow?”

Dainsleif stares at you, lips parted slightly, he’s positioned with one foot forward as he had been in the process of rushing towards you to hopefully stop you from touching what you shouldn’t… but he was a tad late.

He straightens and takes a breath. Okay… from one mystery to another.

He approaches you and picks you up—a bit awkwardly, as if he doesn’t know how to hold a cat—and you’re too confused and disoriented as to what just happened to process you being turned back towards the round artefact. Dainsleif takes your front right paw and makes you touch the artefact again.

Nothing. No glow, no poofing.

There goes his only idea.

The following days were confusing and mildly frustrating. It’s been a while since Dainsleif traveled alone, and though he isn’t technically alone—you’re still there, it doesn’t feel the same. He’s quite struck with the confrontation that he’s become very accustomed to your presence and how much he’s come to rely on it.

He’s a bit quiet and distant from you for a few days, while it makes you sad—if anything, you should be the one who needs comforting—you do try to slowly approach, you know that he can run the danger of isolation.

After starting a flame one evening in the alcove of a cave beneath a bright starry sky, Dainsleif sits down to rest for the night. You walk over with slow steps, careful and quiet, before sitting down next to him.

Far enough that you’re not touching, not even your tail… but close enough to be present.

His eyes slide towards you, and his head follows. “... what is it?”

“Meow.”

His eyelids squint, unsure what to make of your reply. Your answers always make sense to him… but what can he decipher from your feline face? The only familiar part of you is your eyes, shining under the light from the flames. “I see.”

You doubt he deciphered any meaning from your meows, but he’s engaging with you now. Progress.

Trying your luck, you move closer. He stays as he is, watching you closely.

You move closer yet, your tail touches his coat.

Dainsleif sighs.

You stop.

He can’t particularly feel your presence, not yours—but there is a presence next to him. It is yours, despite the fact he can’t sense it… and perhaps one day, were he to outlive you as if likely, he will have to find your presence in something you’re not.

And though you are this weird-looking cat, somewhere between a sentient human being and a feline animal, you’re still you.

The same, those same eyes, the very same gaze and mind.

He reaches out and sets his palm onto your furry head. Dainsleif pets your head slowly, and you nuzzle into his hand. You sit in silence before the swaying flames.

Diluc;

He can’t help but think that you might’ve done this on purpose.

Diluc has been very busy the last weeks he’s been coming back home to the winery late, leaving early—getting up in the middle of the night and waking you up when he goes out for his Darknight hero duties—and though you rescheduled it for next week, missed a dinner in the city that had been booked in advance.

He does feel bad, Diluc wants to spend all the time he can with you, all his free time and more—but with the winter months drifting by, business in the winery booms as people stock up on wine for the holidays. Businesses buy in bulk for holiday menu changes, and such.

And now, after hurrying back home when he was contacted that “something had happened” to you… he’s standing in front of a cat.

He thought you might’ve been hurt, or sick—he had run so fast his hair was loosening from his usual tail.

And while you’re not hurt or sick, you are… different. Something definitely happened.

He sits down and you climb onto his lap, sitting down and pawing at his chest, small meows leaving your small mouth. Diluc strokes your back and ruffles your fur with both hands. “How did this happen?” he knows you can’t answer him, but he can’t help but ask anyway.

You rise up on your hind legs, front paws on his chest as you lick and wet his cheeks. Diluc’s eyes close and his face scrunches up. “H-hey, stop that,” he puts his hands around your torso and holds you away from his face, your little tongue bleping down out of your mouth.

A smile tugs on his lips at the cute expression.

He still has to attend to his job, but while he usually handles most things himself, Diluc does accept help from his staff now that you’re… like this. So now he has more time for you, which isn’t exactly how he intended to spend that free time—searching for ways to turn you back, and having you loafing on his lap and being unable to stand up and fetch his coffee.

He’s not going to move while you’re so comfortable… he wouldn’t do that even if you weren’t a cat.

Not the biggest fan of the hair you leave around you, he needs to wipe his clothes thoroughly after you’ve so much as looked in his direction.

You get so much attention around the winery it’s not even funny, every employee pets you, gives you treats and treat you like you’re more of a royal cat than just a normal person turned into one.

Diluc came home one evening to see you loafing on the sofa, a shiny bow tied around your neck and a bowl of treats next to you… in reach for whenever you wanted it.

He had a conversation with the staff about making sure you don’t eat so much that your stomach will hurt… and that maybe not make you get too comfortable like this, he wants to turn you back to normal after all.

Kaedehara Kazhua;

He thinks it’s adorable, Kazuha is a rather laid-back person overall, and he’s certain you’ll be okay—so why not have fun while you’re like this?

It started all fun and games when on land, Inazuma is filled to the brim with foods that cats would love, every shop has some form of fish or vegetables that Kazuha can share with you…

But as soon as you go out on the open ocean, it’s over.

Kazuha has never seen you so violently unhappy on the ship, every rock of it makes you yowl and dig your claws into whatever you’re standing on, be it a crate, table, bed or Kazuha’s clothes (you ruined two pants, but he doesn’t particularly mind).

You have an irrational (or very rational) fear that you might be tossed off the ship and into the ocean at the slightest dip of the deck. Kazuha does his best to calm you and comfort you, he even offers to make a harness and leash for you so that he can yoink you back if you happen to fall overboard.

You don’t find his idea as funny as Beidou does.

Thankfully, you don’t get tossed overboard you don’t spontaneously die or have any other terrible event happen to you—and you’re so thankful to touch land that you hop off the side of the ship and to the harbour the ship docked by before it can even properly be tied down by the dockworkers.

Kazuha leans over the railing of the ship and calls your name, a bit worried—he hopes you don’t get lost before he can catch up to you.

It takes a while for the ship to dock and open up for people to leave, Kazuha convinces another person on the ship to take his duties for a while as he rushes out to find you. He’s not worried you might get yourself in trouble—you’re rather good at keeping out of it, but he doesn’t want you to get lost or have to spend all day looking for you.

Even though that’s kind of what he’s starting to do right now…

Kazuha shoulders past the crowd in the busy markets of Port Ormos, it’s early noon and it’s starting to fill up. The Crux has stocked up here often before and thus the both of you are quite familiar with it, but the winding streets and large crowds filling the markets can make it disorienting for even seasoned visitors.

After looking around for longer than he cared for, Kazuha finally spots your tail disappearing behind a corner.

Kazuha picks up his pace and somehow manages to catch up to you, perhaps the soft breeze is on his side, as he swoops up next to you and scoops you up into his arms.

He smiles, ducking out of the crowds and into a small alley where some crates are stored for the market stalls. “No need to run away, you’re safe on land now,” he holds you like a baby, your paws in the air as his arm holds your back steadily. “Though you are also very safe on the ship, I won’t let you fall overboard.”

You meow gently, Kazuha isn’t sure if you’re thanking him or expressing concerns… but the way you look up at him in this position is pretty cute. “Let’s find some good food, hm?”

Kaeya;

Funniest shit he’s seen all year.

Kaeya tries not to look like he’s very happy this happened—so long as he knows it’s not dangerous or permanent—or that watching you lick yourself to clean your fur isn’t very amusing.

He brings you everywhere, lets you follow him around and even holds you and lets passersby pet you…

Kaeya is just straight-up treating you like a real cat.

At this realisation, that he was acting like you were a pet, and not his very real (though cat-like for now) partner and previous human… you got angry! you wriggled in his grasp, surprising him and causing Kaeya to almost drop you—he righted his hold and blinked at you with a confused expression. “What is it? Did I hold you wrong?”

A series of angry meows and swats of your paw later, Kaeya was none the wiser.

He tried to bait you to “forgive” him with some nicely cut fish… and it kind of worked, that was some good fish.

Kaeya sits by the table you’re on as you gobble down the fish he bought you, he leans on his fist with a smile and watches as you lick your muzzle after getting fishy-oil on it and shake yourself when you accidentally dip your whiskers into the water next to the plate.

The sun almost makes it seem like your fur shines and sparkles under it and as you sit down, belly full and satisfied, Kaeya reaches out and scratches behind your ears. “Did you take behavioural classes before this? To behave like a real cat? You’re really nailing it.”

You make a huffed sound, but reach your head further into his hand.

He tries to get you to play with toys, he buys a stick with a bundle of feathers on the end in hopes that you’ll chase it when he dangles it in front of you… but when he sat down with you on the floor of your shared home and dangled it in front of you…

You stared at him as if he had just grown three additional heads.

Kaeya pouts, he wriggles it a bit—and though you follow it around with your head, you still sit where you are and don’t move.

Not until he lowered the toy and the feathered end touched the floor.

You pounced onto it.

Kaeya pauses, blinking at you in surprise. You look up like you got caught with your hand in a cookie jar.

And then he just laughs, he wriggles the toy again and you swat at it in frustration for making you leap at it like that, you’re not a real cat!!

Kamisato Ayato;

He doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re trotting along the engawa of the estate on your way to find a nice spot to nap—and suddenly, you’re swooped up into his arms. Ayato smiles and strokes your head. “There you are, my dear. I was searching for you,” he hums and turns around to walk into the estate.

Ayato spends about half the day—and sometimes more—in his study tending to paperwork of many kinds. Unusually, you would lend a hand and help with the neverending piles on his desk, but you’re little help like this… still, he demands that you “lend your paw” and sit on his lap the entire time.

It was nice at first, he’s got a nice lap to lay or loaf on, and he would scratch you in spots you couldn’t reach yourself, or just stroke your back… but after five hours, you really want to stretch your legs. So, you squeeze out from under his arm and stretch next to him, letting out a big yawn—only to find a finger poking your tongue?!

The bastard actually stuck his finger in your mouth when you yawned. Ayato smiled, all smug and somehow innocent at the same time. You meowed in disapproval, but it went straight over his head, as if he had any idea as to what you had just said to him, insult or not.

He also keeps pinching your toe beans, sometimes making your claws stretch out and then back in—even in the middle of the night, he rubbed your paws and stuck his finger between the beans. What is wrong with this guy.

Other than messing with you and pulling your leg, he does provide the best food and treats—as usual, you have the privilege of accessing the clan kitchens and being made food by them on a daily basis and it never fails to make you nearly cry with how good it is. And even now, as you sit next to his desk and his dinner is brought to him (even though you’ve tried to ask the staff to not bring it to him, and that he has to eat outside of his study or else his ass will get stuck to the floor) you are given your own tray of dishes as well.

Gobbling down the freshly made meals tailored to you even in this form, Ayato is happy that you seem to have a good appetite. He had been concerned that this… situation might stress you out and you wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep.

Despite his endless workload, Ayato somehow finds the time to pamper and take care of you between his busy schedule. He sits down with you in the gardens and brushes your fur, rubs your cheeks and kisses your nose (and you need to wet it again every time). As if you were a little fur baby for him to take care of.

He still talks to you as if you were as you always are, though Ayaka uses a baby-voice like one would use with a cat (she tries not to, but fails), Ayato speaks to you normally. He plucks the seeds out of a small cube of watermelon before feeding it to you as he recounts his day, humming in affirmation as you meow back about your own… he doesn’t understand it, but you need to get it out as well.

Your snout is practically pink by the end of the watermelon bowl, and Ayato gives you that smile… oh no.

“It’s been a few days now, and you ran around the garden yesterday… and now you’re covered in melon juice. Why don’t I ask Thoma to warm a bath to wash your fur?” he asks innocently, and watches in amusement as you shoot out of his lap and flee into the estate. Not a chance.

Kaveh;

Kaveh gapes at you. You stare up at him. He blinks. You blink.

“H-hah???!” he scoops you up—accidentally upside down, but you just flop in his arms, still blinking at him from your angle, you know he won’t drop you. Kaveh rights you and brings you nearly nose-to-nose as he stares into your eyes. “How did this happen? You were just—I was… this…”

He holds you a few centimetres away so neither of you go cross-eyed. “... Do you understand me?”

You nod and raise your paw, pressing it onto his cheek.

Kaveh doesn’t move his face away and lets your paw just press against his skin. “Okay, you’re… uh, aware… how do I fix this?”

“Meow.”

“...” right. Maybe this was a stupid question.

Kaveh goes a bit overboard, he researches the best ways to take care of a cat, the best foods, beds, toys—everything. And suddenly, he comes home after a short day at work (he has more important things to tend to!) with… so much stuff.

You stare, dumbfounded, as Kaveh carves out a cat-space in his and Alhaitham’s house… did he get Alhaitham’s permission to do this? You somehow doubt it.

After everything is set up, he stands and sets his hands on his hips with a wide smile. “What do you think?” Kaveh asks, looking down at you sitting by his feet with a swaying tail. “I think it fits very well, the colours compliment our living room—and I tried to arrange it in a way that mostly hugs the wall and doesn’t intercept with the flow of the room—”

He’s rambling again. You don’t mind when he gets going and his interior design skills ARE good, despite it not being his expertise, it goes hand in hand with architecture.

But… did he consult the other half of this house before doing this?

You found out quickly, you had just settled in the high cat-bed that hung on the wall, giving you a good view over the living room as well as a height advantage to him (now you get why cats enjoy the high ground)... when the front door opens and a very familiar Scribe enters.

Alhaitham wasn’t even aware that you had turned into a cat, to him… he just came home to see a random cat in the living room—and that it was arranged completely differently to give you space.

Thankfully Alhaitham has a good few brain cells to rub together between his fingers, and isn’t quick to rise, so he looked to Kaveh and tilted his head towards the kitchen… where they had a lengthy discussion, where Kaveh explained everything to him and asked him if it was okay…

Which is a tad late when he’s already rearranged the entire living room and gotten you comfortable there… but fine. So long as he takes it all down and makes everything as it should be once you’re back to normal. When asked, Alhaitham said he was too busy to help turn you back and told him to consult the library.

Kaveh is a hugger in his sleep, and you’re a victim (you love his hugs). He practically wraps himself around you and holds you to himself the entire night—and don’t you dare try to leave, he’ll wake up and whine about it. He does sometimes squeeze a bit too much—you’re not as durable as you usually are, you’re just a little kitty…

He gets cuteness aggression when you do anything mildly affectionate. Rub against his legs while he’s at his desk, loaf on his lap and slow blink up at him, lick his hand when he strokes your head… Kaveh tries his best not to squeeze you or shake you like a keychain, he bit into his own hand once to refrain from biting your full cheek of food once.

He drew a full sketchbook of you over the span of two weeks, he can’t help it—you’re too adorable and he wants to keep the image of you forever.

Neuvillette;

Not chill about this, Neuvillette was immediately concerned with how to turn you back and if this curse-spell could have any permanent effects on you. He doesn’t really have many tomes to consult, nor are there many people he could ask for advice as to… how to fix this.

After some time, and you rubbing your furry cheek on his arm and leg to try and calm down his nerves, Neuvillette does slow down. He’s usually very calm in the face of the unknown or danger—but he’s never had to deal with direct danger (or not, he hasn’t figured out if it’s dangerous or not yet) when it comes to you.

Thankfully, you’re still there with him, just… a bit smaller, and furrier… and you smell a bit weird—still like you, but also with a tinge of something else. Perhaps that part of your scent has always been your humanity.

And now you’re a cat.

He’s never owned a pet before—and you’re hardly a typical pet, and thus consults the only person he can think of. Furina (though he’s unsure she’s ever owned a pet either?).

And she loves you, she already likes you well enough—but like this? You’re getting picked up, petted, smooched, pampered and loved. Neuvillette just stands a bit awkwardly as Furina gets it out of her system and you get dangerously close to being fed up with her hugging and smooching… you’re not an actual cat! You just look like one!!

After being freed from her clutches, Neuvillette holds you with more dignity for a while until you feel safe enough to walk around the ex-Archon’s home (and won’t get swooped up again). When the initial chaos is over, he sits down with Furina and they put their heads together to try and find a solution to this. They write down how it happened, what exactly changed—your mind is the same, your scent as well as your eyes. Though your fur has turned a shimmering white regardless of your head and body hair colour before.

You look like a big snowball.

There’s no real conclusion to the first session of brainstorming, but they manage to narrow down that though neither was there to see what exactly happened, it was likely a spell, or perhaps an artefact you touched (where would that even happen inside Fontaine?) or something along those lines.

Thus, Neuvillette takes you back home for the night. He’s a bit stiff around you, he doesn’t interact much with animals and though he won’t avoid them if a cat approaches him on the street (he’d mostly greet and nod at them) he hasn’t exactly had to care for one before.

He has to rely on asking you yes or no questions that you can nod or shake your head to, and makes it through the first few days like that. And while you’re… cute? (He’s not entirely sure how to describe you) Nauvillette does much more prefer you in your normal state, where he can communicate with you, hold your hand and touch your cheek without getting sniffed at by a wet nose.

Not that Neuvillette doesn’t enjoy petting your fur and scratching under your chin, it’s just not the same.

It is very amusing to watch your head move left and right as you sit on the kitchen counter and watch Neuvillette prepare dinner—mostly for himself as you don’t eat typical foods now. He offers a small piece of a carrot and watches as you crunch on it for a good thirty seconds until it’s mushed enough to swallow.

Tartaglia;

Another situation of; the funniest shit he’s ever seen.

He brings you everywhere—Childe has no concept of ‘pet-free zone’ because you’re not his pet? You’re his partner? His beloved? Why is he being shooed out, you’re on a leash and everything (half chewed apart because you refuse to wear it with dignity and do all in your power to get free, how dare he put you on a LEASH).

Of course, initially, he was confused and rather concerned. He thought you might have been attacked, or targeted and thus had been made into this… cat, maliciously.

But you honestly seem pretty undisturbed, so he is as well. Calm cat, calm Childe.

He dresses you up before taking you outside—not necessarily for fun, but rather because it’s insanely cold in Snezhnaya in these months, and he doesn’t want you to be a block of ice after a few minutes. So he goes and buys some puffy coats, socks and a warm blanket for your return. You feel like you look like an idiot (you already look like a cat…) in all these clothes, but his cooing and smooching make it less annoying—mostly because now your annoyances are focused on him.

His siblings don’t really understand that it’s you, not at the younger range—and Childe just tells them that you’re a cat he and you decided to take care of for a while and that you’re busy elsewhere. Tonia doesn’t seem as convinced when Childe keeps smooching your nose and rubbing his cheek against yours.

Embarrassing enough as it is, Childe starts to call you nicknames now—it isn’t entirely unusual, but they’ve always been normal… now he’s calling you “Combat kitten” and “Fuzzy comrade”... worst of all was “General toebeans”

You wish you could tell him to stop, but all you have are meows and hisses.

Snezhnayan homes are made to withstand cold and harsh winds, and thus have excellent central heating systems… also known as a fireplace—and a furnace elsewhere. And curling up on some soft blankets or a plush chair by the furnace as snow gathers on the windowsill and winds brush against the exterior of the house… there are few places more comfortable to take a nap.

Unfortunately, Childe’s humming and singing from the kitchen disturbs your perfect peace, but you’re just glad he’s having fun. You’ll live.

And he brings you some treats, places a small kiss on top of your furry head and sits down in the other chair, dragging the one you’re on to be next to his so that he can stroke your back and belly when you eventually flop on your back for more attention.

He’s pulled every string and contact in the Fatui to try and figure how to turn you back (except a select few who will either be last measures or just straight avoidances despite advice they might give) but hasn’t had much luck so far. Thankfully you've only been stuck like this for a week or so, and thus it hasn’t been so long to be concerning.

Perhaps it’s just a matter of waiting it out, and Childe is surprisingly patient.

Thoma;

The Housekeeper stands in surprise as a cat is suddenly plopped into his arms. “Ah… is this… a new house pet…?” the Kamisato estate doesn’t exactly have pets, there are some cats that come around and nap in the gardens every now and then and leave after a while, but this cat is staring at him as if they’ve known him their entire life.

Ayato only hums as he’s already turned to another task, rushing from one thing to another as the busy days of summer come along. He doesn’t have much time to explain—nor is there much to explain. He had borrowed you for a few minutes to help him with something, he turns around for a moment, and the next you’re a cat.

Thoma stares at him, silent for a time. He’s not entirely sure if Ayato is messing with him or not—it’s entirely possible, and par for the course for his lord—but as Ayato shakes his head and waves his hand in dismissal, he speaks again. “I already have someone looking into it, take care of them in the meantime. I’ll have someone fetch you if there is news.”

You’re actually a cat.

After leaving Ayato’s study and sitting down outside where the afternoon sun has begun sinking towards the oceans beyond the cliff the estate sits on, Thoma stares at you as if he’s not entirely sure what to do with you.

Despite the initial confusion (and the followed concern, but it’s quickly dampened somewhat, Ayato has someone on the case and he trusts him to find a solution) Thoma is a very responsible person. He makes sure you’re not uncomfortable at all despite some estate staff vehemently refusing to let you in specific places… such as the kitchen. Fair enough. But there are also certain rooms and areas that have to be kept very clean and they don’t want cat hairs to get all over the place.

Thoma brings you around, he’s got many places to be, and he’s sure you’d like to stretch your legs anyway—it’s always nice to leave the estate for a few hours and run some errands. He had to head down to a nearby village and see whether trade agreements were coming along smoothly, they produce a lot of high quality rice and are often stuck in trade deals with large towns and clans for their rice—and for a well enough reason. Recently, Ayato had struck a deal with them and everything was signed and well along its way, Thoma just had to go and make sure they had everything they needed for transport.

It was a good walk, but you kept up easily… somehow having four legs rather than two makes you less tired after walking for some hours…? Or perhaps it’s because your body is so light now, you don’t know much about cat anatomy.

The meeting went well and you didn’t linger for long.

Unfortunately, a heavy downpour began to fall on the two of you as you headed back. Thoma quickly scooped you up and tucked you into his jacket—it’s not much of a jacket, it barely reaches below his ribs, but it was just big enough for him to cover you (and lean a bit to cover you better) and pick up his pace to run back to the Kamisato estate.

After making it back inside, the rain was as if a waterfall had opened in the heavens to drop down on the roof. Thoma’s hair is wet and sticks to his cheeks as he sets you down. “Ah, that was close,” he laughs softly. “Are you dry?”

You shake yourself after being pressed against his chest for so long and sniff around your fur, then give him a nod.

“Hah, that’s good, I’ve heard cats don’t like water much,” he smiles. “I need a change of clothes, come with me?”

You let out a happy meow and follow him along further inside.

Venti;

Cooes at you and talks to you with a baby-voice, he puts both thumbs on either side of your cheeks and rubs your face like it’s dough… even though it makes his nose red and his eyes puffy—despite the cursed allergy that torments his everyday life (there’s so many cats in Mondstadt) he doesn’t let it stop him from being around you. Pestering some healers for a medicine that could help, he feels… less bad, but it doesn’t really dampen the itch in his eyes and throat well enough.

He doesn’t take this situation seriously at all, at least not nearly as much as you do—you should probably trust his reactions and instincts, as he’s far more knowledgeable than you (even though he doesn’t act like it at all) and if you were in any danger, he wouldn’t be smooching your cheeks and nuzzling you like HE’S the cat.

Thus, you try to calm down, to focus on just getting through the days and not feel embarrassed when you have to clean yourself or relieve yourself as a cat.

But Venti also doesn’t make it easy for you, he builds a “throne” for you out of books and pillows for you to have the high ground (he doesn’t want to put holes in the wall for a hanging bed) and gives you “Mondstadt’s finest tuna” that tasted very much like a normal piece of tuna, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Sometimes you really wonder if he was the one who cursed you just so he could mess with you and cuddle you without you being able to fend him off. Not that you would be particularly opposed to cuddles in the first place? He could just ask?? Besides, why would he choose the form of a cat out of every other pet considering his consistent sneezing up a storm around them.

It doesn’t add up, you discard your theory.

You can’t sleep in the same bed anymore, both because Venti moves a lot in his sleep and being a cat does not make it safe, he could crush you! (as if he’s heavy enough to do that) and because he might well and truly pass away if he had to be so close to your furry-ass for such a pronged amount of time… and thus, Venti makes a nice bed for you out of blankets and pillows next to your usual one where you can rest.

There was a time where these new cat instincts took a bit too much over, and when you were chasing a crystalfly on a walk along the roads outside the city, you had hopped onto a big rock—and after missing your chance to catch the crystalfly, you hopped onto Venti and tried to eat his braids.

He yelped in surprise, but laughed once he realised what you were doing. “My hair isn’t for eating, it’s no good for your digestion either!”

You felt embarrassed about this little incident, and he kept making fun of you for it—though not necessarily maliciously, Venti just thought it was funny that you didn’t go for his hat, but his hair instead.

Climbing to the top of the Mondstadt cathedral or the statue of himself isn’t your favourite pastime, but it’s surprisingly much easier in this form—and thus when Venti suggests you go to the top to play some songs, you had been hesitant at first.

Making it to the top, Venti sits down comfortably as if he’s done it a thousand times (you sometimes suspect he climbs it to make you feel better, because you know he can just float up with a gust of wind) and pats his lap for you to sit down.

You plop yourself onto his thighs and settle comfortably as the sun sinks below the horizon, Venti takes out his usual lyre and tests a few tunes to ensure it’s properly set. “Let me play you something nice, it’ll help you sleep.”

And it is nice, your ears flick as his fingers dance along the harp’s strings, he hums along with it but doesn’t sing full words—the vibration of the song calms you and you rest your head on your paws.

Wanderer;

“You are the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen in my life.”

He’s being dramatic, you’re not that ugly… but…

Why did you have to turn into a hairless cat?

You feel strange, and perhaps you would also feel the same way if you had a lot of hair, but every single breeze makes you feel you are especially naked—because you are!

Wanderer isn’t exactly happy to have to take care of you—he will do it, of course, but he will also complain about it. You were perfectly independent and functional as a person before you just had to go and sniff some plant in the wild that poofed you into a cat before his very eyes.

He refuses to seek help to find out how to turn you back, not because he doesn’t want anyone to know that you’re a cat, but rather because he’s certain he can handle it himself.

You whack at his arm with your paw, meowing up a storm after a few hours of not being fed the day after—he had completely forgotten that he needs to prepare something digestible for you… he’s never had to take care of a creature like you before—what can you even eat?? He clicks his tongue. “Don’t swat at me like that. You’re human, act like it…”

You’re not human right now!! Give me food!!

Eventually, he does begin to take proper care of you, even though he keeps telling you that you look like a peeled potato… you don’t have many ways of retaliation except whacking him with your paw or hissing when he lightly pinches a big patch of your skin.

Surprisingly, during one strangely cold night when you were curled on the bed and trying to stay warm—even the slightest drop in temperature was very cold to your hairless body… you feel something soft drape over you. Half-asleep and cold, you squint up and scrunch your nose as your whiskers squish against the blanket, you see Wanderer turn back around after setting it over you. Hah… he’s soft under that hard shell as always, even if he tries to act aloof.

After several days of no luck in trying to turn you back, Wanderer does begin to cave to asking for some… advice. Not help. Advice.

With you in his arms, head reaching towards the market stalls of Sumeru city (literally everything smells good and extremely edible) as he passes by, Wanderer takes you to meet with Nahida who is rather enthusiastic about this mystery. She pets you and smiles, humming as he recounts what happened and describes the particular flower you smelled.

“Hm, I have an idea, but it’ll take a while to execute… do you think it’ll be okay for them to remain like this for a few more days?” the archon taps her chin in thought, mind swirling with ideas and possible solutions.

Wanderer huffs, not exactly a scoff, and clapped his hand onto your head. “It’s fine.”

But as soon as you returned back home and he set you down on the living room table, Wanderer points at you. “You better turn back to normal soon…” he folds his arms over his chest, his expression isn’t as tight as it was before. “I don’t want to deal with this forever. Just get back soon.”

You inch closer to him on the table, reaching your paw out to tug his sleeve closer—only to rub your head into his palm. He clicks his tongue. “Whatever… don’t think this counts as an apology. You’ll have to make up for it properly when you’re you again.”

Wriothesley;

You are, quite possibly, the smallest cat he has ever seen.

He holds you in the palm of his hand, it’s adorable. Wriothesley cracks a grin and lifts you to eye-level. “Hm, you’re not nearly as scary like this, no one in this prison will listen to you like this.”

You want to whack him on his nose, but politely refrain—if only because you don’t want to get dropped. You meow at him, ferocious and upset at this situation, you have a job to tend to! Things to do!

But Wriothesley has other ideas, he sets you down on his desk and sits down. “Now, how did this happen? I assume this wasn’t intentional?” is he teasing you? Most likely. He knows you can’t just answer his questions, and you assumed he would be slightly more concerned when a guard brought you to his office…

But no, he instantly recognised you and dismissed the guard. Had it been the eyes? The fur? Is he somehow responsible for this??

All unanswered questions, and though he sends out word to some people he thinks might be able to help decipher this mystery, he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get you back to normal. He sets you in the pocket of his vest (it’s embarrassing that you actually fit) and goes on with his days as normal.

Siegwinne was initially very concerned, she seemed much more sensible in her worries that leaving you in this form for too long might be dangerous and that the Fortress isn’t exactly a good place for pets. There are a lot of crevices to get stuck in and things to get hurt on.

Though you still retain your mind, so you should be alright in that sense… so long as you don’t get overly curious.

He is undeniably very warm, and cuddling up to him at night is very comfortable—especially now that you can just lay on his chest and snooze there and not worry about being dragged back into his embrace if you move too much in your sleep. You barely move at all in this form.

Come morning, Wriothesley was already awake by the time you open your eyes, he strokes your fur and scratches behind your ears. Having a day pass by does make the initially amusing situation a bit more… real. He doesn’t want you to be struck with a permanent curse, or some kind of spell that might harm you in the long run.

“Don’t you worry,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “I’ll make sure you’re back to normal soon, just stick close by.”

And you do, mostly because you couldn’t have been blessed (cursed?) with a normal-sized cat body, but possibly the smallest there could be. You can’t even jump up onto his desk by yourself and have to yowl at him to let you up.

He does so happily, surprisingly eager to carry you around and help you with the smallest things.

Wriothesley doesn’t even change in mood from amusement when you chase the pen in his hands as it glides across paperwork he signs, you leap onto his arm and try to whack at the pet in either some strange instinctual haze, or an attempt to play—and though you whacking the pen makes it seem like he has the handwriting of a toddler, it’s just rather funny.

The Fortress doesn’t exactly have a large variety of foods, not in the sense that it can be adjusted for the diet of a cat that isn’t accounted for during inventory fills, and thus Wriothesley sends for specific ingredients that won’t be heavy on your tiny little stomach.

And he also… got some cat-related things delivered, like a bed, some string toys and treats. You never used the bed, either preferring his lap to nap on, or just slept in the strangest places he never even imagined you could reach with those stubby legs.

But he’s a very responsible caretaker, at least, that’s what he claims as he holds you down to brush your teeth and you wriggle and flail like an eel.

Xiao;

Very worried, he didn’t even realise the cat sitting in the clearing of the forest was you at first and searched for you for several minutes before seeming to realise that you had just… shrunk. Into a cat.

He stares at you for a good minute, lips parted and eyes large… before your name tentatively leaves his mouth.

You meow in affirmation, standing and shaking yourself as you try to understand the situation yourself—still a bit disoriented.

Xiao approaches you quickly and kneels down in front of you, he lifts you up to your hind legs, puts you down and inspects your ears, your tail and under your paws. You meow in curiosity as to what he is doing, and surprisingly he seems to understand your question.

“There might be traces of whatever did this on your body, it will make it easier to track or reverse,” he says and even checks inside your mouth, which you weren’t really happy with.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t find any answers, and kneels there rather awkwardly with you in front of him… what now? This situation has stumped him a bit—he’s supposed to be able to keep you safe from all manners of danger and curses like this (perhaps not exactly like this, he never prepared for this exact scenario) and now that he’s not got many leads to fix it, his mind is a bit aimless in where to search for information.

He has no idea how to care for you, and while he has vague ideas of the behaviours of animals…they mostly stem from wild animals and their reactions to foreign presences in their territories, or similar scenarios.

What does a meow mean? Is there something wrong? What does it mean when you paw at the door? Do you want to go outside? But it’s two in the morning?

He severely overestimates the portions of food you eat, giving you a full plate of something the Wangshu Inn kitchens prepared on his request (they figured out what happened and have been trying to help him, but Xiao is still trying to be subtle and secretive about the situation) and being confused when you only ate a fourth of it.

Are you sick? Was it the wrong kind of food?

He brings you along with him on his hunts, while he could leave you at the inn… how can he be sure that you won’t get into trouble? The window is high above the ground, what if you tumble out of it? What if you try to climb up on the dresser in the room and get stuck? Or fall down and hurt yourself?

No, you’re safest with him, even if he has to wield his spear with one hand and hold you with the other.

He’s surprisingly good at it too.

Desperate after a week of unsuccessful herbs and potions he tried to make, Xiao caves and contacts Liyue Harbour and the adepti that reside there for help.

It seems his message had gotten into Cloud Retainer’s hands, and instead of any actually helpful advice on how to turn you back… she had sent an entire booklet of cat behaviours, diets and how to take care of them.

Helpful, sure… but not exactly what he was asking for.

One evening as he was out on the usual hunts, he noticed that you were walking slowly by his side, yawning and rather cold so high in the mountains. He didn’t even have to think about what might be wrong or what to do, as he had already scooped you up into his arms and teleported back to the inn, where he sat down with you on the bed.

“You should tell me when you’re tired…” he grumbles and tugs one of the covers on the bed to his lap where he wraps it around you as if bundling a baby up. Xiao reaches up and scratches behind your ears as your eyes blink closed in the comfort of being back in the warm room.

He had only been petting you for s few seconds when he felt you… tremble? There was a strange rumbling sound coming from you, are you uncomfortable? He doesn’t quite understand it… but you continue to rumble as he scratches your head and ears.

Ah, was this the ‘purring’ he read about in one of the booklets Ganyu sent him? How… cute.

Zhongli;

“Ah…” Zhongli stares at you, this isn’t quite what he had imagined would happen… he had been crafting a potion in hopes it would help Ganyu sleep better, she had been overworking herself (again) more than usual and was so tired that she couldn’t sleep. It can happen.

The combination of herbs and materials required for the potion he had put together wasn’t very suitable for humans, and of course he made sure to let you know so that you wouldn’t drink it… but he hadn’t expected that only being touched by a single drop onto the back of your hand would lead to a poof, and your size being reduced and body turned to that of a cat.

You had only wanted to help by handing him ingredients so that he didn’t have to turn around so often… you didn’t anticipate this either!

He makes sure the potion won’t burn and sets a lid on the pot before turning towards you. “I… had not foreseen that this could have been a danger to you, my apologies,” he kneels down on one knee and holds his hand out for you to sniff. You do so, snout twitching towards his finger before you bump your head into his palm.

“Have you retained some sense of consciousness?” he wonders, gloved hand moving to stroke over your small head, your ears flattening under his palm. “I’m sure I can find a way to reverse this.”

He was sure, at least. But after some research and testing… he wasn’t making any progress—at least, he wasn’t making progress in finding ways to turn you to your normal self without some potential risks or aftereffects.

What he did find, was that the herb that you had been touching, and the potion he had halfway crafted was similar to another concoction that he had made before—and the effects of that had only been temporary.

It seems you will simply have to wait until the effect wears off.

Zhongli had instinctively prepared a delightful meal in the way he knows you would enjoy while you sit in the kitchen counter and watch with interest, your tail swaying happily as you watch him chop some vegetables and set them into the pot… but halfway through the process as he’s setting spices and herbs into the pot, Zhongli realises that more than half of the ingredients in the pot are unsuitable for cats to eat.

He finishes the meal and sets it aside, before fetching some fish you had purchased just yesterday that he was going to use for lunch tomorrow and cut it into nicely bite-sized pieces. You tilt your head slightly as you watch—the meal he had just been putting together doesn’t have any fish in it?? What’s it for?

And honestly, when he plated your food (in a very professional and presentable way) and set it down on the dining table, then set his own on the other side for himself… you felt a bit offended. Raw fish, some rice and a hard boiled egg… next to his delicious smelling beef stew…

If you could’ve cried, you would have. And Zhongli felt pretty bad for the rest of the day, he tried to offer you some “safe” treats or make it up to you with some pets and scritches, but you still sulked.

You had looked forward to this dinner all day…

Thankfully you got over it rather quickly and Zhongli is glad that he didn’t offend you too badly… it seems having been turned into a cat had made you quite dramatic as well, he doesn’t recall you ever having sulked like this over a meal before.

Knowing that it was simply a waiting game, Zhongli isn’t very concerned about your state, but he does ensure that you’re comfortable and not afraid—he understands that perceiving the world differently like this can be strange and even scary, but he’s glad when it seems that you’re relatively calm.

Your nightly routines are slightly out of whack now—something that Zhongli isn’t very fond of, he quite likes it that after cleaning up after dinner, the two of you settle in the living room for a while. He tends to read and it varies what you get up to, but it’s always a shared time where you sit in silence or chat about your days.

He does talk about his day to you, sitting on the comfortable seat in the living room with you on his lap, Zhongli recounts his day to you and expresses that he hopes you weren’t too bored alone in the home today, and that perhaps he can convince the director to allow him to bring you for a day. He strokes your back and smiles as a rumbling purr leaves you, he scratches under your chin and touches his forehead to yours as you seem to have fallen asleep on his lap. He reaches for his book and decides to read for a while before taking you to bed.

Despite the mishap, he’s glad you’re safe—he will endeavour to be more careful in the future and ensure you won’t be hurt or disturbed by his work.

69 notes · View notes

nightplvmes · 2 days ago

Text

*.⊹˚ ZAYNE | take a break

── ◜zayne x fem!reader — mini one shot 0.8k words ◜Zayne tries to get his girlfriend to take a break — author's note

There was a joke she constantly made and it was about how Zayne should stop working so much and take a break. It was ironic how things had changed now, she was the one who needed to take a break.

Zayne had his eyes fixed on his girlfriend who was pacing back and forth. He wasn't entirely sure if her hands were trembling because she was moving so fast but it wouldn't have surprised him. She had been drinking gallons of coffee all morning.

"Where are the papers? I'm sure I left them here." She grimaced and started walking to the kitchen. "I came to the kitchen later to make some coffee." She turned to walk back out of the kitchen and head to the small table where her laptop and hundreds of papers sat, but Zayne stood in front of her.

She bumped into her boyfriend's chest and looked up at him. She stepped aside to avoid him but Zayne blocked her path again. His cold hands wrapped around hers and brought them to his lips, feeling that she was indeed trembling.

"You need to rest, love." Zayne's lips pressed against the knuckles of one of her hands. She could see him trying to act too calm.

"I need to work." She shook her head and took a step back to try and get away from him, but Zayne's grip tightened, preventing her from retreating any further.

"Come here," Zayne's voice was soft, not wanting to stress her out any further. He guided her over to the couch, she was still too stunned to protest so she simply took a seat next to him. "You've been working too much."

"You can't blame me for that. You're a workaholic." She looked at him with a slight frown. It was true, maybe he wasn't the best example, but he had never entered an operating room without sleeping or with his hands shaking, or he would have been fired already.

"You need to rest. You can work later, I'll help you find the papers myself." Zayne leaned down to press his lips against his girlfriend's forehead, for some reason he had made her calmer.

She sighed and nodded. She wondered if Zayne was capable of tying her to the bed and forcing her to rest. She couldn't help but laugh at the thought.

Five minutes later she had her hands wrapped around a hot cup of tea 100% made by her boyfriend. His arms were around her in an attempt to make her feel comforted… or maybe he was just trying to keep me from running away and work again.

"I have a lot of things to do… my boss asked me for those papers and I…" Zayne's voice interrupted her.

"That's enough. You need to rest."

"But my job…"

Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His gaze was hard, it was what she called 'his doctor look', the same one he used when she went to her monthly checkups and Zayne talked to her about her results. "You can find another job if necessary."

He took the cup from her hands and set it on the small table in front of them. He would give her a job himself if necessary. He understood the feeling of wanting to do everything perfectly, but his girlfriend's boss was taking her to an extreme that he would not tolerate.

"Did you know that you can get seriously ill from stress and not getting enough rest?" She rolled her eyes. Was he saying this as a doctor or as a boyfriend?

"I'll be fine." She sighed. She didn't resist when Zayne wrapped his arms around her and forced her to lie on his chest, it was like a warm pillow that she loved to sleep on.

"Get some sleep," he murmured, the scent of her hair hitting his nose.

"What if my boss calls and gets mad?"

"I'll take care of that."

She felt the weeks of sleeplessness take their toll on her the second she lay down on his chest. Maybe it was the tea or maybe she just needed a break.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, she needed it so much and she would make sure to thank Zayne when she woke up for caring so much about her.

Zayne didn't mind staying in the same position for almost two hours while she was sleeping. He knew he could pick her up and carry her to the bedroom but he liked being able to have her close and be able to keep an eye on her.

He still didn't know what he would do when she woke up but he knew he wouldn't let her go back to that horrible job, no matter if he had to pay her bills himself.

60 notes · View notes

just-your-average-shiz-student · 2 days ago

Text

There’s probably a discussion to be had on how much Madame Morrible, respected as she may be, can effectively groom two young adults, but regardless, I am delighted by how the movie highlighted how manipulative she is from the moment Elphaba steps into Shiz.

I keep thinking back on that brief moment during What Is This Feeling when Glinda stops and Elphie is jumping from excitement (an openness of emotion she can scarcely express in front of other people) before Madame Morrible reaches out and holds her.

She actually trusted that woman, someone who saw her potential and believed in her from the get-go, who (at least outwardly) barely even took notice of her green skin. And all that newfound validation gave a boost to Elphaba’s confidence that was probably crucial for her sanity as a social pariah in Shiz. Madame Morrible did that for her!

Really, the only flaw in Morrible’s and the the Wizard’s evil scheme was that Elphaba’s principles and desire for justice were stronger than her need for anyone’s approval.

And that is so crazy to me, because if there’s a person who by all accounts should be subjectable to doing things in exchange for validation, it would be Elphaba. There’s so very few people in the world who have her back. Really, there’s only Glinda, Fiyero, Dulcibear, and Dr. Dillamond, who has been arrested and can’t help anyway. It’s amazing (read: depressing) how small her support system is.

And still, AND STILL, she managed to walk away from an opportunity of belonging somewhere, doing something she is good at (magic), with people who could grant her everything she ever wanted!

But as she herself said in Defying Gravity, she “can’t want it anymore”. So it’s not even a case of her not wanting that validation and acceptance anymore, it is her deliberately choosing to let that go in favour of something greater. And I know this addition was mainly about Morrible, but truth is, I’m not sure if she would be able to have the strength to refuse her and the Wizard’s offer if it wasn’t for Glinda.

Glinda, who could not have made a less favorable first impression on Elphaba. Glinda, who had the social power to make the whole student body accept Elphaba, but chose not to due to her own desire to be seen as a martyr for tolerating Elphaba’s presence (even if she seeks her out during times she really doesn’t need to for some reason). Glinda, who desperately wanted Morrible’s attention, the one thing Elphaba had that she did not.

But once their friendship blossomed, Glinda really became Elphie’s biggest defender.

She didn’t change a single thing about her appearance during Popular; when Elphaba’s invitation to go to Emerald City came, she was there right at her heels, supporting her, being proud of her, not really trying to shift the crowd’s attention to herself at all.

When the train comes, even though she is happy for her, there’s a part of her that’s morose about the prospect of being away from her best friend (“How will I manage without you?”), even if for such a short time.

While they’re going through the Wizard’s palace, Elphaba is anxious the whole time, and so is Glinda, but she is the one who pushes her forward with motivational words (“You can do anything.”).

And finally, during Defying Gravity, Glinda takes the first step back in their relationship since Ozdust, refusing to go with her. But even then, she doesn’t belittle Elphaba’s decision.

She initially resents the fact that Elphaba’s reaction “hurt her cause forever”, but once she sees what the other girl’s planning to do and that there’s no convincing her to give up, Glinda’s still supportive.

She gives Elphie a cloak so she won’t feel cold during her flight, she smiles at her even though it’s obvious she’s doing everything in her power to not fall over in a sobbing mess. Even her simple “I hope you’re happy” shows how she’ll always stand for Elphaba herself, even if she can’t stand with her cause.

And for as much as we like to make fun of how Madame Morrible clearly couldn’t stand Glinda from the very beginning and was always throwing really unnecessary jabs at her, I think deep down she saw the danger that could come from a friendship between the girls, how more difficult it would be to get Elphaba to be so reliant on her validation if she could get it from another source.

That’s why she seemed specially dissatisfied seeing that Glinda had gone with her to Emerald City, that’s why the Wizard himself felt the need to extend his offer of a permanent stay to Glinda too: because they both could see the influence she has on Elphaba.

And contrary to them, there’s no ulterior motive there. Glinda believes in Elphaba for who she is, and regardless of how strained their relationship becomes in the future, that never once stops being true.

you noticed how Glinda doesn't really let go of Elphaba basically from the Ozdust scene on and she's basically always holding Elphaba's hand or hanging onto her arm, even when its physically awkward to be doing so. and even during Defying Gravity after its clear that Glinda isn't going with Elphaba, they're still holding hands right up until the point where Glinda is grabbed by a guard and forcible pulled away from Elphaba

#Wicked: Part One (2024)#Elphaba Thropp #Glinda Upland #Madame Morrible #💚 | Like a handprint on my heart | 🩷#Meta #Analysis

732 notes · View notes

hsnlv · 3 days ago

Text

bittersweet | s.jy

synopsis: caught in a dangerous dance of passion and obsession, you’re drawn to sim jaeyun’s intoxicating pull. his love is chaotic, his touch addictive, and though it threatens to destroy you, you can’t help but fall deeper—willing to break if it means keeping him.

warning: a little suggestive at one point, a little manipulative too, reader is obsessed with jake that they would do anything for him.

wc: 2.1k

a/n: this is very much inspired by bittersuite by billie eilish! but im pretty sure i misinterpreted some of the lyrics used in this story. and just a reminder that each lyrics will bring you to a different scenario. enjoy reading!

i can’t fall in love with you

“(y/n), you know he’s no good for you!” your friend’s voice rings in your ears, louder than the music thumping in the background. their frustration is palpable as they watch you, once again, drift into thoughts about him.

sim jaeyun.

his name is a song in your head, a melody you can’t stop humming. he’s the kind of beautiful that should come with a warning, the kind of dangerous that leaves you breathless.

“you don’t get it,” you mutter, trying to shake off the words as your eyes roam the room, searching.

“no, you don’t get it!” they snap, stepping in front of you, forcing your attention back to them.

“you’re setting yourself up to get hurt, and for what? some guy who’s going to break your heart like it’s nothing?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, unwilling to admit they might be right. but it doesn’t matter. none of it matters.

because there he is.

jaeyun.

leaning against the wall like he owns the place, his sharp features softened by the dim light. your heart stumbles, skips, then races ahead, and suddenly, nothing else exists.

you don’t even realize you’ve walked away until your friend’s voice fades into the distance.

i was on my knees, outside of my body, watchin’ from above, i see the way you want me

“good girl,” he murmurs as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

his voice is silk, smooth and warm, wrapping around you like a spell. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer, steadying you as your knees threaten to give out. his fingers press just hard enough to leave you breathless.

the room fades. the smell of alcohol, the chatter of voices, the dull bass in the background—it all disappears. all that’s left is him. his touch. his scent. his voice.

you tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, you swear the world stops spinning. he looks at you like you’re something he’s been searching for, something precious.

“jaeyun,” you whisper, his name barely audible.

“yes, pretty girl?”

and that’s it. you’re gone. your resolve crumbles, your heart collapses, and you know—you know—that no matter how much this will hurt, you’ll fall every single time.

i gotta be careful, gotta watch what i say, God, i hope it all goes away

“jaeyun, i love—”

the words almost slip, a confession hanging in the air between you. but you catch yourself just in time, swallowing the rest of the sentence before it can escape.

his head tilts, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “love what, baby?”

his voice is slow, deliberate, laced with the kind of mischief that makes your chest tighten. he knows exactly what you almost said, and he’s enjoying every second of your hesitation.

you can’t answer. you won’t. because if you do, everything will change, and you’re not sure you’re ready for that. your heart beats too fast, your pulse pounding in your ears as his gaze holds you in place.

but it’s torture.

you saw the way he looked at her earlier.

you saw the way he leaned in, the way his eyes followed her.

your stomach twists at the memory, jealousy clawing its way up your throat. but you can’t bring yourself to call him out. you won’t, because if you do, you’ll have to admit how much it hurts.

and it does. God, it hurts.

because no matter how much it stings, no matter how many times you tell yourself you should walk away, you only fall harder.

he’s a drug, and you’re addicted.

“come on, baby,” he coaxes, his hand brushing against your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. “you love what?”

your walls are crumbling, brick by brick, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold them up.

you know he’s bad for you.

but…

cause i can’t fall in love with you, no matter how bad i want to

the mantra loops in your head, a desperate attempt to remind yourself of the truth.

dont. fall. in. love. with. him.

but the truth is a lie.

his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. your breathing is uneven, your body trembling as his lips graze your neck.

he sleeps soundly beside you now, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that feels too peaceful for the chaos he’s caused inside you.

"so fucking sweet," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he pounded into you, as if you were the only thing that existed to him in that moment.

"doing so good for me, hm? so good, so sweet," he whispered, his hand brushing your cheek so softly. for just a second, his eyes looked at you like he loved you. and that second was all it took to unravel you completely.

your fingers brush over the marks he left on your skin, the evidence of his touch still fresh. you close your eyes, replaying the night in vivid detail—the way he whispered your name, the way he moved, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

for a moment, you let yourself believe it.

because for a brief second, he looked like he was in love with you.

but you know better.

you know he won’t be here when you wake up.

and yet, you’d do it all again.

but if pain is the price you pay to have him like this, to feel his touch, his presence, you'll take it. again and again, until there's nothing left of you to give. because it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive.

i don’t need to breathe when you look at me, all i see is green

his eyes meet yours across the room, and the world falls away. everything else—every voice, every sound, every breath—disappears in an instant. it’s just him now.

green. deep and dangerous, like a forest that tempts you to wander too far in, knowing you’ll never make it out.

he doesn’t have to speak. doesn’t have to move. just looking at you is enough to leave you gasping for air, and somehow, you don’t care.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he says as he approaches, his tone soft but heavy with meaning.

you shrug, trying to play it cool, but your heart is pounding too loudly for you to hear your own thoughts.

“what’s on your mind?” he asks, leaning closer. his hand brushes against yours, just barely, but it sends a shiver up your spine.

you want to tell him everything. how he’s the only thing you think about. how the sound of his voice lingers long after he’s gone. how his absence feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

but you don’t.

“nothing,” you lie, though the way you look at him says otherwise.

he smirks, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “is that so?”

i think that we’re in between everything i’ve seen, in my dream

“you’re overthinking again,” he says, his voice laced with that disarming calm that always makes you second-guess yourself. His fingers graze your cheek, tipping your head just enough so you have to look at him.

“don’t,” you murmur, but the word barely escapes your lips.

“don’t what?” he counters, his tone deceptively soft, as if he’s confused. But the glint in his eyes tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Don’t remind you of what we are? Of what you keep running from?”

you shift under his gaze, but he doesn’t let you pull away. his hand is firm, grounding you, as if he’s anchoring you in place, forcing you to stay in this moment.

“why do you do this?” you ask, your voice trembling, betraying the resolve you desperately want to cling to.

his smirk is subtle, almost imperceptible, but it cuts through you all the same. “because I know you,” he says, the confidence in his tone rattling something inside you. “better than anyone else ever could.”

“you don’t—”

“i do,” he interrupts, his voice steady now, his hand sliding to your jaw. “and you hate that, don’t you? you hate how much you feel for me. you hate that no one else makes you feel this way.”

your heart races, and you know he can feel it.

“but it’s okay,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “you don’t have to admit it yet. i’m patient. i’ll wait.”

the way he says it, so sure, so certain, makes your stomach twist. because deep down, you know he’s already won.

i don’t need to breathe when you look at me, all i see is green

the tension between you simmers, unspoken but undeniable, a charged thread pulling you together even as you test the limits of its strength. his gaze is sharp, piercing, watching your every move as if he’s memorizing you in real time. you know he hates it—hates the way your attention drifts toward the edges of the room, where other figures stand, laughing, drinking, and existing in a world that doesn’t revolve around him.

but your world? it does.

you don’t need anyone else in this room. you never did. but sometimes, the only way to keep him tethered is to let the rope fray. to make him feel the sting of what it’s like to lose you, even if just for a second.

you seem so paranoid, i’m looking at the boys, i’ve never filled the void, out of spite.

you glance at the guy near the bar—just a second too long, just enough to make it noticeable.

you hear him before you feel him. the sharp inhale, the muted scoff. then his fingers are at your waist, curling around you like a warning, pulling you back against him. his touch is firm, possessive, almost bruising, but it’s the kind of pain that makes your pulse quicken.

“you’re playing a dangerous game,” he mutters, his breath hot against your ear.

“what game?” you ask, your voice dripping with feigned innocence, even as a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips.

his jaw tightens, his muscles clenching under your hand as you rest it lightly against his arm. he’s trying to stay composed, to keep the fire in check, but you’ve already struck the match.

“you’re looking at them like you want something,” he says, his voice low, smooth like honey but edged with steel. “but we both know they could never give you what i do.”

he’s right, of course. they couldn’t. but that’s not the point.

you seem so paralyzed, it’s so romanticized,

his grip softens slightly, his thumb brushing against your side, and for a moment, you forget why you started this in the first place.

when your eyes meet his, the room seems to shift. everything fades—music, voices, the low hum of conversation. it’s just the two of you, locked in this intoxicating push and pull, this endless cycle of destruction and devotion.

you hate how much you need him. you hate how easily he pulls you back every time you try to let go. but there’s something about the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters, that makes you crave the chaos.

“you like this, don’t you?” he says softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “you like making me crazy.”

you don’t answer, but he doesn’t need you to. he knows.

if this is how i die, that’s alright.

his touch is slow, deliberate, like he knows exactly how to unravel you. his fingers trace the line of your collarbone, dipping just enough to make your breath hitch. his lips hover over your ear, his voice dark and smooth, sending shivers down your spine.

"you're shaking," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "but you're not pulling away. why is that?"

you swallow hard, your throat dry, your mind clouded with the weight of his presence.

"because I-" but the words falter, caught somewhere between truth and fear.

he smirks, and it's almost cruel, the way he looks at you-like he knows the power he holds, like he knows you've already surrendered. his hands slide lower, grazing your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you.

"you can't help yourself, can you?" he says softly, his tone laced with mock sympathy. "you want this. you want me."

your breath catches, the heat of his words burning through every defense you've tried to build. you don't respond, but the silence is enough. he knows. he's always known.

his lips press to your neck, slow and searing, each kiss leaving a mark that feels like it's branding you as his. his grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who's in control.

"you let me do this to you," he whispers, his voice dripping with possession. "you let me have you, over and over, and you never stop me. why?"

you don't have an answer. maybe there isn't one. maybe it's because you've always been drawn to him, even when you knew you shouldn't be. maybe it's because he's everything you shouldn't want but can't resist.

his lips move to your ear, his voice now a low growl. "because you love me. even if it ruins you, even if it destroys everything else, you'll always love me."

and he's right. you hate how right he is. because as his hands roam your body, as his lips claim yours in a way that feels both heaven and hell, you know you're his. completely. utterly.

if this is how you lose yourself-if this is how you die-you'll let him. because being his feels like the only way you're alive.

96 notes · View notes

icarusredwings · 1 day ago

Text

Thinking about how fast logans hair grows and how naturally thick and shiny it is (lucky fuck) and while it started as something small, Wade mentioning how fluffy it is when tuffed out.

"Guess you're gonna cut it then?"

But his voice is kind of hoping he doesn't. It's not hard to tell either. Wade can't hide his adoration for Logan. He's never been able too. (And probably never will)

"Mmh.. Nah." Is all his says, but the brightness in Wade's eyes is everything.

He lets Wade take care of it. He lets him completely groom him, wash him, condition it, oil it, braid it, try different looks on him, like blowouts and curls. It makes him wonder how he knows these things. I mean, he's bald.

But he wasn't always bald, right? Duh. Vanessa mentions something about him doing her hair sometimes, helping her curl it and would help put her curlers in, etc.

It makes him wonder why he doesn't have an actual set. Why doesn't he get one glued or professionally put in. Cancer patiants got fake hair all the time, so what was the problem? It's not like they didn't have enough cash to pay for an installation.

As it gets longer, Wade is obsessed, showing it off and bragging how beautiful he is. He likes to drag his fingers through it, pull on it COUGH, pet him.

And don't get me wrong, Logan doesn't mind much, but it's getting a little too long than he likes. So much so that Gabby has started joking that Laura and him look the same. This isn't his issue, though. The problem is that it's touching his back in a way that makes him feel like someone is touching him. The curls at the ends brushing against his shoulder blades and makes his body hair raise from sensory.

Logan tilts his head, laying on the couch with Wade on his chest watching some trash tv.

".. Im gonna cut my hair later."

"What?"

"It's too long for me." He says.

"Oh... okay." Who was wade to tell him what to do with his body? Esspecially when he was engaged to a stripper. It would be hypocritical.

Before Logan leaves, Wade blows him a kiss. "Bye bye beautiful."

"Heh. Thanks."

"I was talking to those lushious locks, but you too gorgeous."

Logan rolls his eyes, scoffing softly, but stops.

"Change your mind?"

".... you were jealous of other yous hair... why don't you... you know?"

Wade blinks. "...well... wolvie.. when a daddy cancer and a mommy cancer-"

"That's not what I meant. I mean.. they have hair that you can glue on, right? Or.. does this universe not have that?"

"It does. I just... feels weird. You know? Itchy. And hurts. And.."

"You don't have to explain. So.. do you like clips or something??"

"...whyy?" He asks, becoming skeptical.

"Nothing.. just curious." Logan mumbled, leaving ".. Bye."

"See ya 'just curious'."

____

When he finally does return to the apartment, his kitty ears are clean, leaving his hair a bit thicker than when they met but not long enough to surpass his ears or chin.

From the kitchen, Wade whistles. "Well, Hello, sailor! Where's my husband? Whos this hot tom cat?"

Logan blushes, embaressed. Keeping his hand behind his back as he hugged him when glomped out of excitment. It wasn't uncommon for Wade to do this. To kiss the shit out of him when he got home, but the way he pulled at his lapels made him chuckle, pulling away.

"Okay okay, wait wait. I got something for you."

"Clip ins?" He asks, gasping softly and lit up when presented with a small box. "Oooh!! Presents! Peanut you shouldn't have!"

He shrugs. "Yeah.. well.. you liked it too much to not."

Pausing, Wade stares up at him with a sparkle in his eyes. "...You..."

Logan nods. Instantly, he begins to rip open the box, smiling widely before squealing. "Oh my god! Loagie!! Is this why you took forever? I thought you got lost on the way there or something..."

"Oh, I did, but.. that's besides the point."

"How much did these even cost to make?" He asks, looking at them fondly as he checks the quality.

"Don't worry about it. They're nice aren't they? I was actually shocked I could find someone to do it so quickly."

"Yeah! Its almost as if the writer is super lazy and didnt even research the process or how long it takes to make these! Oh- but...How am I going to wear them? You have to clip them. I can't really clip them to my scalp." Wade mutters, pouting.

Immediately, Logan frowns. "Oh shit.. I..i guess I didn't think about that. I thought you.."

Wade giggles. "I'm just kidding! Ill go clip them. I got a wig that'll look perfect with this!" He smiles, giddy as he runs away.

Logan grins, watching how excited and happy he was. Sighing, he glanced at the food Wade was starting to make, picking up where he left off.

____

"Sooo.. what do you think?"

Turning around, Logan smirks, eyes softening at the pure joy on his face. They fit perfectly into his already existing wig, making it thicker and shiny, soft and the it flowed the way real hair would.

"Ta-da!" He giggles. "And watch!!" He shakes his head around, flipping his hair and posed a few times. "I tried the halo extentions before, and they flew off! But they stay!"

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning back against the counter, so lovingly looking at the pure glitters in his excited eyes.

"Yeah!! Isn't it so cute? And its so soft!"

"And water resistant." He comments. "Soooo you like'em?"

"Yes!!! Of course I love them! And I love you." He comes to logan, hoping up as he grabs him, pulling him up to kiss him agaisnt the counter. Between kisses, giggles, groans and affectious compliments, Al crossed her arms, sitting at the table.

"Really? In front of my salad??.. nasties.."

#vanessa carlysle #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool 3

60 notes · View notes

sjsmith56 · 2 days ago

Text

A Family for Christmas

Summary: Bucky’s acts of kindness towards a single mother and her two kids leads to more.

Length: 4.7 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OCCs (one boy, one girl), Pepper Stark, Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson.

Warnings: Abandonment issues, brief mention of domestic violence, sweetness overload.

Author notes: Admit it, this is the dream scenario many of us want for Bucky Barnes. Just enjoy it.

One dark and dreary late afternoon in December

The lineup at the grocery store was long, as the Christmas season had started. Bucky glanced at what people had in their baskets, seeing mostly party food like fancy cheeses, charcuterie meats, snacks of all kinds and some things he had never heard of or seen before. Other than the lady in front of him and himself, everyone seemed to be buying for a Christmas party. The lady in front of him, with a small toddler girl in the child seat, and an older boy looking anxiously at the items she took out of the cart, kept a close eye on the tally. When it got to $95 and she saw how many necessities were still on the conveyor belt, she sighed at the boy.

"I'm sorry, honey, we won't be able to get the snack mix or the kids' cereal," she said, then looked at the cashier. "Could you remove those from the tally, please? I only have $100 to spend." The cashier frowned at her. "I'm really sorry."

"Keep it on," interrupted Bucky. "I'll pay whatever is over that amount." He looked sympathetically at the woman. "I know what it's like to not afford things."

Her lips trembled, then she swallowed, but she nodded her head and whispered. "Thank you."

After everything was put through, the amount owing was $123.45. Bucky peeled off two twenties, then said to give the change to the lady. When she started to protest, he smiled at her again.

"It's alright. You take your kids to McDonald's or something."

"Thank you again," she whispered. "You're a kind man."

He smiled at her, watching as she pushed her cart out the door. Her son kept looking at Bucky until they were outside, then he heard the boy just before the sliding doors closed.

"Mom, that was Bucky Barnes."

Smiling, he watched while the cashier rang his things through, paying cash for his bag of groceries. As he stepped outside into the chilly December air, he could hear a car being started and failing. The person tried several times, then there was the sound of crying and he walked towards it. It was the mom, sitting behind the wheel, weeping. Her son was leaning over from the back seat, trying to comfort her while the little girl looked like she was going to cry at any moment. Walking up, he knocked on her window and smiled as she lowered it.

"I could hear you trying to start your car," he said. "Would you let me take a look at it?"

"You've already done more than enough, Mr. Barnes," she began, flustered, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'll figure it out on my own."

That brought a smile to his face.

"The thing is, you don't have to," he replied. "I'm offering and it's going to cost you to get someone to have a look. It's getting dark and I don't like the idea of you and your kids sitting here in a parking lot waiting. Please, let me help."

"Okay, let me just pop the hood," she said, reaching below the dashboard for the release mechanism.

He lifted it up, pulled out his phone and activated the flashlight, looking at the engine. Then he went back to the window.

"What's your son's name?" he asked. "I'd like to borrow him to hold the light up so I can see what I'm doing."

"Liam," she answered, then she looked back at her son. "Would you help Mr. Barnes?"

He grinned at his mother, then opened the door. Bucky shook the boy's hand as if he were a grownup.

"Would you hold the phone up so that the flashlight is on where I need it?" Liam took the phone and aimed it to light up the area while Bucky began checking the wiring. "When I was a boy, it was a tough time for families. People got sick and died, some men lost their jobs and took to the road to find work, leaving their families behind. It was important for friends and neighbours to help those who needed it. I don't know how many times my mother made extra and sent me with food to a family that needed it."

"My dad left," said Liam, bluntly. He looked up at Bucky. "Said he didn't want to be a dad anymore because it was too much for him. I heard him tell my mom one night and, in the morning, he was gone."

Bucky hesitated, sickened at what he just heard. "I'm sorry. That makes you the man of the family now and that's a lot for a boy your age." He looked over at the woman. "Try it now." It still didn't catch, and he put up his hand for her to stop. "Does she have a job?"

Liam nodded. "Part-time so we don't have as much money. She cries every night after she gets home and Grandma leaves. I'd find a job but I'm too young." He wiped his eyes. "Why did he do that? Why did he stop loving us?"

"I wish I had an answer for you," said Bucky, "but I don't. I'll tell you what, Liam; I'm going to talk to some friends of mine and see if we can help you out, okay?"

He found what he thought was the problem and asked the mom to try again. This time the engine caught. Taking his phone back from Liam, he closed the hood and walked the boy back to the back seat door. Then he leaned down.

"I found a loose wire and fixed it, but it may come loose again," he said. "If you want, I can come over and do a better fix during the day. I'll give you my number and you let me know, okay? I wouldn't turn your car off before you get home, so maybe go through McDonald's Drive-Thru for dinner."

The woman swallowed and looked up at him, almost ready to cry but she nodded, and unlocked her cell phone, offering it to him. As she drove away Bucky memorized her licence plate number and made a phone call. After a short conversation he hung up and drove back to his place. He had some homework to do.

The following morning, he received a phone call from the mom, Lorraine, telling him that her car wouldn't start.

"I hate to be a bother," she said, "but I need it for work, and I can't afford to get it fixed at the garage."

"It's no problem," replied Bucky. "I offered. Give me your address and I'll come over."

Half an hour later, he arrived at her place, noticing the house had a For Sale sign on it. Lorraine met him at the door, all bundled up, then said she would open the garage door from inside. After meeting him inside the garage she retreated back into the house. The car had the hood up, as it appeared Lorraine tried to fix it herself before phoning Bucky. In the light of day, it was obvious the car was worn out. Carefully, he checked all the connections, tightening what he could. He started it up, let it run for a bit then stopped it before trying again. This time there was nothing except for a clicking sound and he sighed; it was a bad alternator. He could buy another one and install it but from what he just saw of this car there were other parts ready to fail. Taking his phone out, he phoned the number from the evening before.

"Hi, it's Bucky. I'm at the lady's house, trying to get her car started. It's worse than I thought. The car's old and worn out, and even though I can fix the immediate problem it's just a matter of time before the next part fails." He listened for several moments. "Her house is up for sale. I haven't talked to her about it yet but she's definitely in a tough position." The person on the other end of the call must have suggested something because he nodded his head. "Alright, I'll give it a try, but I would rather be the one tracking down the husband and making an example of him."

Removing the keys and lowering the hood, Bucky went to the front door and knocked on it. Lorraine arrived with her toddler on her hip, looking hopefully at him. He gave her the keys grimly.

"It's the alternator and I can fix it, but that car is already falling apart," he said, as kindly as he could. "It's only a matter of time before something else fails on it."

She swallowed, nodded her head and turned away so he wouldn't see her tears. Digging into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a clean handkerchief, offering it to her. That set her off and she walked back inside crying, leaving him at the door. Reluctantly, he entered and felt his heart break at what he saw. There was only a couch and end table with a lamp on it in the living room, no furniture in the kitchen or dining room. The couch had a sheet, blanket, and pillow on it. It was cold in the house, which explained why she and the toddler were dressed in several layers of clothes. As she sat on the couch, she wept for several minutes then gathered herself.

"It's been six weeks since my husband left us," she said, her emotions making her voice crack. "He took the car, cleaned out our savings and said he had enough of being leeched off of. Blamed us for all of his troubles, like we were the ones who got him fired for drinking on the job. I had another bank account that he didn't know about. I used that money to buy the car, as it was all I could afford. My mom looks after the kids when I have to work but she doesn't like it when I work an evening shift because it means she has to go home on the bus in the dark. I don't even get full time hours and there's no benefits. If any of us gets sick ...." She stopped, taking several long breaths to calm herself. "I've sold almost every piece of furniture in the house, except for this and the kid's beds. I sleep here on the couch. The heat is turned down to barely enough to keep us warm at night. I applied for welfare but because I co-own the house and have a job, they say I'm ineligible. I don't know what I'm going to do."

She looked up at Bucky, as he stood in front of her. He saw in her eyes something he hadn't seen since he was a boy during the Depression. It wasn't just despair; it was desperation. She was at the breaking point. He gestured to a space next to her on the couch, only sitting when she moved over for him.

"I was a boy during the Depression. I saw the worst in people, but I also saw the best, often from my own family. No matter what I went through since then I've tried to live by that since I became a free man. After I saw you last night, I gave your licence plate number to a friend, and we've already put things into motion to help you. Until we get everything in place I'll do what I can for you. One of the first things we'll do is to get you a reliable car. The one in the garage isn't it. So, we're going to pick up a rental. It will be paid for by my friend."

"Okay." Her voice was shaking. "How will I pay your friend back? My job isn't the best paying. It's a struggle to keep a roof over our heads."

"You don't," smiled Bucky. "She can afford it. As for your job, we think you should quit and focus on taking care of your kids and your personal life. She's going to hire you herself but is trying to find the right position that will allow you to have a work / life balance as she's a single mother herself. You know what she means?"

Lorraine nodded her head. "Thank you. I don't know what to say."

"There's more," he smiled. "We've put someone into finding your husband." She looked alarmed. "Not to make him come back, but to make him accountable. He cleaned out your savings account, so it's only fitting that he gives you sole title to the house. We're looking for a place for you and your kids, your mom, too, if you want. Until we get you moved into that new place, you crank up the heat here. I'll help you get some more furniture, a TV and maybe one of those game systems for Liam. He's a good kid and I can tell he wants to help you as much as he can."

"You would do that for me?" she asked, ready to cry again.

"Not just me," he smiled, then placed his arm around her shoulder and squeezed it. "My friend assigned me to be your helper. So, how do you feel about doing some furniture shopping, then I'll take you and your little miss for lunch before we pick up your rental car?"

If gratitude could be measured, Bucky was sure Lorraine was overflowing with it. Perhaps it was just knowing that someone cared enough to help, without expectation of repayment, that made her face light up in a way that made him feel good. They bought some necessary furniture, including a new bedroom set for her, and for the dining room, to be delivered first thing the following morning. They picked up a television set and game system as well. By the time lunch was finished, Bucky received a text message that the rental car was ready for pickup along with some other necessities that would be waiting. He felt like Santa Claus, after giving Lorraine a bank card with some funds already deposited that would allow her to look after herself and her kids until she started her new job. When he brought the television and game system to the house, he was met by a Stark Industries technician, who set it up for the family.

"Go pick up Liam from school, get some more groceries, and don't worry about money," he advised, before he left. "You have my phone number. Call me day or night. I'm at your disposal."

When he did receive a call, a frantic one made by Liam, two nights later, to report his father had shown up at the house, hit his mom, and broken the TV set in a fit of rage, Bucky wasted no time in getting there, quickly dressing, and asking Wong for a portal to the house. His wish to make an example of the father was granted as he entered the house, lifted the man one-handed, and held him against the wall, while instructing Lorraine to call the police.

"Pack some bags for yourself and the kids," he said, as her husband was being led away in handcuffs. "You're staying somewhere else tonight. I'll let my friend know that you need the new place sooner rather than later."

How a man could treat his wife and kids the way her husband had was beyond Bucky's comprehension. If they were his family, he would be beyond the moon to have Liam as his son, Larissa as his daughter and Lorraine for his wife. They deserved so much more than what her husband had subjected them to.

Three weeks later

After locking up the house, confirming it was all cleared and clean for the new owners, then giving the realtor the keys, Lorraine walked back to Bucky's car, not looking back at where she once lived. In the three weeks since she was at the lowest point of her life, she had learned to look forward to the future. Already set up in a new apartment, they had only stopped to meet with the realtor one last time to hand over the keys. Smiling back at Liam, her mom, and her daughter Larissa, she sat in the front seat with Bucky.

"So, where to now?" she asked of the man who had become her friend in that time.

"That's a surprise," he said. He looked back at the kids, smiling at Lorraine's mom, who still didn't quite trust him, then put his SUV into gear. "We have a company function to attend where you'll meet some of your new colleagues and their families."

"Is it a Christmas party?" asked Liam.

"It is," smiled Bucky. "I heard a certain jolly old man might be there."

"Santa." Larissa beamed at Bucky through the rear-view mirror, her toddler voice full of excitement. "I want Santa."

"We'll see when we get there, won't we?"

When they did get there, a prestigious hotel complete with valet service for the car, even Lorraine's mother was awed at the setup for the Christmas party. After checking in at the desk set up outside the banquet hall, Bucky escorted them inside to a winter wonderland, complete with people dressed as elves. It was full of the lights and sounds of Christmas. Larissa, overwhelmed a little, asked to be lifted up and carried by her mother, while Liam stuck close to Bucky, eventually grasping his hand, which pleased the big man immensely. He saw Pepper Stark in the distance and led the others towards her. Her face lit up when Bucky introduced them to each other.

"Lorraine, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," she smiled. "These must be your kids, Larissa and Liam, and Bucky said he convinced your mother to attend. Welcome all of you."

"It's you," gasped Lorraine. "You're the friend who's been helping us."

"Guilty as charged, although it was Bucky who got it going," said Pepper. "He couldn't bear the thought of what you were going through. I was in a position to help, and it was totally my pleasure. When you start in the New Year, you and I will have a good sit-down time together and we'll talk about a lot of things but today, just enjoy yourselves and eat, drink and be merry."

She squeezed Lorraine's hand, then smiled up at Bucky before greeting another attendee and their family by name.

"Come on, let's find a place to sit," said Bucky.

He saw Sam at a table with Sarah and the boys, waved to them and asked to join their table. Lorraine and the kids had already met Captain America in the few weeks since Bucky first met them, but her mother was almost dumbfounded at sitting with the famous hero. It wasn't just a Christmas party, there was also dancing, and a place for the kids to try out the latest in games. AJ and Cass invited Liam to join them in playing video games. Breathlessly asking permission of his mother, she nodded then glowed at how happy he seemed to be included by the other boys. When the band began to play The Christmas Song, Sam asked Lorraine's mother to dance, receiving a giddy acceptance. Bucky looked at Lorraine.

"What do you say? Would you like to dance?"

"We'll have to take Larissa with us," she answered. "I'm not much of a dancer."

"Not a problem," he smiled, then offered his arms to the three-year-old. "Do you want to dance with Mommy and me?"

"Pease!"

With big grins on their faces, Bucky held the toddler between them, then managed to lead Lorraine through the dance. Sarah watched, happy at how animated the super soldier seemed on the dance floor. Sam had told her about the woman's struggles and how Bucky became friends with the family after meeting them at the grocery store. She could see the beginnings of something between the couple, although he was too much of a gentleman to do anything while Lorraine's divorce petition had just been filed. As much as Lorraine and her kids deserved to have a good life, so did Bucky, and Sarah found herself hoping for the best for the tall super soldier.

One year later

The ten-year-old boy was on guard at the door of his bedroom while Bucky wrapped up two presents for Lorraine. The first present was a framed sign made by Liam with decorations by Larissa, and the second present a small box containing something special from Bucky. Liam heard his mother talking about leaving the kitchen and whispered at the dark-haired man.

"She's coming!"

"It's okay, I'm done," said the super soldier. "I'll let you put them under the tree."

Handing them off to the boy, he left the bedroom, heading towards the sound of Lorraine before she stepped out of the kitchen. Stopping in front of her, he placed his hands on her waist and maneuvered her to some mistletoe that was hanging. With an amused shake of her head, she raised her cheek to him for a kiss but was surprised by a full kiss on the lips.

"Bucky, what's got into you?"

"Collecting my mistletoe tax," he grinned. "I'm going to need several instalments."

Larissa tugged on Bucky's shirt. "Me, too?"

"You, too, little girl," he laughed, lifting her up until her head touched the mistletoe, then bringing her down so she could kiss his cheek. "Both my girls need to pay up. Your mom, too, when she gets here."

"Good luck collecting that," joked Lorraine. "She still thinks you're up to no good."

"Not anymore," he thought, recalling the special visit he made to her for her blessing.

Offering his help in the kitchen, he was soon chopping vegetables up for snacking on, as they were hosting several close friends on this Christmas Eve. While he did that Lorraine arranged cheeses and sliced meats on some platters along with crackers. It was easy to assemble and didn't require any time over a stove. With everyone ready, they both changed into something suitable for a family and friends Christmas.

The gathering was enjoyed by everyone present as Christmas songs played in the background, the kids played video and board games while the adults talked of many happy things. When it got close to Larissa's bedtime, Bucky called for everyone's attention.

"Before our little princess heads up to bed, I promised that she and her brother could give their mother a present." He pulled their special present out, handing it to Larissa to give to her mother.

"We made it together," announced Liam, as his mother unwrapped the box, then took out a framed handmade sign that puzzled her at first.

"What does "Say yes!" mean?" she asked, confused. "Is this about getting a puppy?"

"No, Mommy," laughed Larissa, then she reached under the tree for Bucky's present, and pulled him by the hand towards Lorraine. "Go ahead, ask her."

Several of the others gasped audibly, guessing what was happening. Bucky went down on one knee, then showed Lorraine the wrapped second box, holding it in front of her.

"Over a year ago, I met a wonderful lady, her son, and her daughter, on probably the worst day of their lives, but it was the beginning of something wonderful. I found someone that needed what I was ready to give, my love and my commitment. Lorraine, I can't imagine a life without you, Liam, and Larissa. Would you do me the honour of marrying me, becoming my wife, and allowing me to be a father to these incredible children?"

He handed her the box, then watched as she unwrapped it, opened it, and revealed a beautiful solitaire diamond engagement ring. With her lips trembling and her eyes glistening, Lorraine took the ring, placed it on her left ring finger and began to cry.

"Mommy, say yes," demanded Larissa, making everyone laugh.

"Yes, I'll marry you," she answered.

With a cheer from everyone, and Larissa clapping her hands excitedly, the couple kissed then Bucky pulled both kids in for a hug from him and their mother. As the others gathered around them, wishing them congratulations, Sarah Wilson sat and smiled at the happiness that radiated from Bucky's face, making him look younger than he ever did since she first met him. Sam sat next to her and nudged his sister in the side.

"You called that right," he said. "You knew a year ago it would come to this. How did you know?"

"Because they each found something they needed," she answered. "She found someone who was kind and giving. He found someone who needed him to be there for her. It was as plain as the sun shining in the sky."

"Right," he grinned. "So, you think they were meant to meet?"

She smiled at her brother, squeezing his hand. "If you meet the one you want to spend the rest of your life with then yes, you were meant to meet. You just have to open yourself up to the possibilities, Sam. You know that."

He did know that. Offering his help to Lorraine and her kids had opened Bucky's heart and now the man had a family for Christmas. It couldn't happen to a better person.

Later, after everyone had left, Bucky and Lorraine tucked Larissa into bed, then sat with Liam, as he snuggled down under his covers.

"You were surprised, weren't you Mom?" he asked. "Bucky asked me and Larissa first, then Grandma next, if he could marry you."

"You did a good job keeping that secret," she answered. "I was very surprised and I'm going to put your picture up where everyone can see it."

He grinned, then he looked at the super soldier. "Can I call you Dad?"

"If you want, I would be honoured. Liam, I want to adopt you and Larissa. Are you okay with being my son and taking my name?"

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically. "Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad."

They both kissed him on the forehead, returning the words. As the couple bustled around, cleaning up the last few things from the party, Bucky looked above Lorraine's head, noticing the mistletoe. He stopped her, taking some dishes from her hands and placing them on a counter. She looked up at him, her face glowing with the love she felt for this man who became so important to her and the kids in the past year.

"Final instalment?" she asked, looking at the mistletoe above his head.

"Nope." He shook his head. "That's a lifetime tax, payable on demand."

They chuckled, then kissed, sweetly at first then with more passion and intensity.

"With kisses like that we'll end up with another child very quickly," she murmured.

"If you want," he answered softly. "Do you know when I first envisioned having you and the kids as my family?" He breathed out noticeably. "It was the night Liam called about your ex showing up. I felt such a panic that I wasn't there. I wanted to protect you all from ever being in that position again. By the time we went to the Christmas party I wished for you and the kids to be my family some day." He caressed her hair. "Even though we started living together two months ago, today you gave me the best Christmas gift ever."

Lorraine's eyes were glassy as she listened. She placed her head on his chest while she hugged him, still not believing that this man was hers.

"I wished for the same thing," she whispered, before looking up at him. "You were kind to us from that first moment in the grocery store and it was something that had been missing from our lives. Thank you for being there when I needed someone like you the most."

"Always."

They kissed again, turned off the lights, and headed up to bed, where Lorraine's comment about the quality of Bucky's kisses proved prophetic. By the following Christmas, there was another stocking hung up on the fireplace but that is a story for another time. Needless to say, they both got their Christmas wish and more.

One Shots Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes Xmas #bucky barnes family #no smut

38 notes · View notes