#feathers and fluff

[featherpajamas]

Re-rendered! I'm working on themed stationary and journals. I really hope the aesthetic works. Any suggestions?

[raepliica]

i think they should take turns cuddling for healing purposes

[generalsdiary]

Sunday mannerisms I noticed during the 2.7 livestream

when he finds something funny or amusing but doesn't laugh out loud - his right wing twitches

when he is happy or joyous - his left wing twitches

when he is flustered, shy or laughing out loud - both wings twitch

[tubbytarchia]

maybe. I hope you guys never stop asking for ranchers

[dollarbils]

but baby, i | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your ex girlfriend, billie, can’t resist calling you a week after you’d broken up.

warnings. angst, fluff, suggestive

masterlist

‘if you go, i’m going too’

a sigh of relief was heard on the other end of the phone when you’d pressed the green button, spilling out a hesitant ‘hello’ as you held the phone up to your ear. There was no response however, lighting up a flame of irritation in you.

“Who is this?” was the next thing that fell from your lips, laced with hostility.

“baby,” it was quiet, soft and inviting. Emotions from the previous couple months all encompassed into the term of endearment.

“billie?” your voice softened at the realisation of who it was.

“deleted my number already have you?” she teased, but it didn’t make you smile, not in this moment.

“billie, what happened? are you okay?” the questions tumbled out in an attempt to comprehend the reason for her call. it had been a week since you’d broken up, and hearing her voice felt like you’d been taken back to last Friday.

“yeah no, nothing happened, i’m fine. i just..” she trailed off, gathering the courage to speak, or the bravery to do the right thing, and hang up. but she was weak, and so were you.

“yeah?” it was a plea for her to continue. a beg for her to speak the words you couldn’t.

“i miss you baby.” your eyes drifted shut, a flush rising to your cheeks.

“billie, this isn’t a good idea.” it was the truth neither of you wanted to hear.

“i don’t care.” she whined, desperation clear in her words.

“billie don’t say that.” she let out a sigh of frustration at your words.

“i know you missed me too, this week has been the shittiest week you could imagine.” and suddenly you found yourself drifting into your usual conversation, like you would’ve a week ago.

“i’m sorry bils, how can i help?” it was a stupid question and you’d realised soon enough. all of this would eventually lead you back to her.

“you know how.” it was a confession in itself, revealing what she hoped to get from this call.

“tell me. whatever you need, i’ll do it.” you couldn’t reject her, not now, not ever. she had been everything for you, and she still was.

“come over, please.” her request was simple but it meant so much.

“are you sure?” her answer would decide your future, because it was clear what would happen if you complied with her wish.

“i need you.” those three words were deadly, they represented so many things all at once. they could be interpreted as multiple meanings.

“fuck,” it was a sigh of submission, giving in to her. and everything you’d previously given up. “i’ll be there in ten.”

‘cause it was always you’

the silence that followed the knock on her door, was deafening. leaving too much space for you to fall into the pit of doubt, that was still very much prominent. when the door finally opened, she stood in front of you, her perfect eyes attaching themselves to yours. then she smiled, engulfing you in a gentle hug, holding you as if you might break.

“billie.” it pulled her out of her state of daydreaming, grounding her with the realisation that this didn’t mean the beginning of a new chapter.

“i’m so sorry.” the apology was long overdue, but when she closed the door behind you, inviting you back in, none of that mattered.

“i know, but i need your promise, that we’ll be okay this time. i can’t go through breaking up with you again. i won’t survive it this time.” your throat closed up, signalling you to stop talking before your feelings spill out of your eyes, in front of her.

“of course angel, i understand. i’ll give you whatever you need.” she held your face in her hands, confirming her words at the slight rub of her thumb, over your cheeks.

“i need your devotion, your love.”

“but baby, i..” she paused for a second, pondering on wether her next words were ones she’d later regret. but she soon brushed the doubt away, releasing herself from its constraints, confessing her truth. “i’ll love you ‘til the day that i die.”

when she brought her lips to yours they were warm, inviting. they connected and moulded together as your bodies inched closer.

‘and if i’m turning blue, please don’t save me’

the heat from her breath, warming the patches of skin tainted by her tongue, as she ran it across your naked body. her lips attached to yours nipples, and then your clit. devoting herself to your pleasure. expressing her love for your body.

‘nothing left to lose, without my baby.’

and when your mind lost itself in her affection, focusing on her tongue buried deep inside you hole, you felt connected. birds of a feather destined to reach for each other in times of difficulty. destined to end up in each others’ embrace in times of despair.

‘we should stick together.’

[splatashahowlett]

Love your writing! Would you be willing to do one where you comfort Logan from a nightmare?

birds of a feather (we should stick together)

logan howlett x reader

your eyelids felt heavy and your body benumbed but you still couldn't sleep. you were laying on your back, staring at the open window. the cold breeze coming from the latter made your body shiver, but you loved being able to hear the sounds of the night; it kind off rocked you to bed, it was your personal lullaby. you were aware of every sounds around you. it felt as if you were in a camus novel.

your head immediatly turned to look next to you when you felt the sheets shuffling on your bare legs. was logan awake? his eyes were still closed but he was slightly moving.

you knew all about logan's nightmares. it had been years now since you two had gotten together and he told you about his night crisis within the first two months; he couldn't hide it from you anyway. so you were expecting it almost everynight and you would be lying if you said it wasn't one of the reasons you couldn't really sleep. you hated the idea of him waking up after a nightmare and having no one to talk to, no one to lean on.

you delicatly placed your head on his chest, knowing the weight of it brought him a sense of comfort and security. his hand automatically went to your hair. he was so used to the gesture that he would do it while alseep. he would always reach out for you, findind a way to always make contact with your skin; he would groan unconsiouscly when you were too far away (according to him) and pull you to his chest without any words said. you would laugh and shake your head each time, amused but grateful that he could find peace in holding you.

you were slowly falling alseep, your eyes closing on their own, when logan started to move around franticly. you lifted your head, and analysed logan.

nightmare.

you started by sitting up in the bed and making sure that you were nowhere near logan's fists. you weren't scared of him or his claws, but if he were to hurt you he would never forgive himself. he mostly would never sleep next to you again and you would find yourself in the incapacity of helping him facing his nocturnal terrors.

you tried to wake him up by grabbing his head gently and stroking your thumbs against his cheeks. you were whispering sweet words, trying to get him to understand that this was all a dream. but of course it didn't work.

your voice started to get louder, you almost couldn't hear yourself over his unrelentless grunting. you were calling out his name.

"logan honey"

"logan!"

"logan, you need to wake up"

"this is all just a dream"

...

"LOGAN"

his silhouette went flying forward, his claws unleashing, piercing through some pillows. logan was breathing heavily and his stare could scare the bravest knight away. but you weren't anyone, you were his lover.

your hand went to his shoulder, trying to get him to come back to reality. he turned around. his gaze immediatly softened when he saw you. you knew talking wouldn't get you anywhere, he would still feel guilty and monstruous. so you just smiled.

you looked at each other for a little while, no words exchanged. you tugged on his shoulder, inviting him to lay back down. he resisted.

like everytime, you were about to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but he beat you to it.

"stryker" he groaned.

your other hand went to his left shoulder and travelled down to his chest. you wrapped your arms around his neck. your chest was pressed into his back and your head was hidden in his neck. you hugged him tightly, not planning on letting him go anytime soon.

he retracted his claws and his fingers enveloped around your forearms, returning the affection.

"are you hurt?" he asked, almost inaudibly. afraid of your answer.

"seeing you like this doesn't leave me impartial" you answered into his neck. he sighed and turned his head to look at you, you lifted your gaze to his eyes. the look he bore broke your heart; you wished you could take all his worries away.

"come here pretty boy" you reached out for him. he dived into your arms and wrapped his own around your waist. he almost tackled you with his enthusiasm. your chin was planted on his head, muttering reassuring promises while stroking his hair.

"there wasn't anything pretty about what just happened" he retorted after a while. you closed your eyes, pained at his words. you hated when he bathed his self-loathing so much. you let go of him and grabbed one of the pillow he pierced earlier. you raised it above your heads and looked at logan, who was visibly confused. your fingers teared down the pillow with the help of the holes logan had created. hundreds of feathers fell down. the breeze of the window made them fly around, in spirals. some would land in your hair, others on the bed or on your lap. you were grinning widely, the spectacular sight filling your heart with happiness. feathers were invading the room. when some got stuck into logan's hair you laughed wholeheartedly. this caused logan to smile in return.

"looks pretty to me" you stared into his eyes. he brushed your cheek and kissed you softly.

"none of this is your fault logan, you should never apologize for what they did to you. your wounds are legitimate and you have the right to be afraid. you are far from being the monster they wanted you to be; you are the wolverine, an x-men. you are the love of my life. don't be ashamed of being bruised"

"I could've hurt you."

"but you didn't, you never did. you've always protected me and kept me from harm's way. I am proud of you, I want you to know that." you kissed his forehead.

"I love you" he whispered.

"I love you most" you teased with a big smile. logan looked at you with a cheeky grin and lunged at you, pinning you down against the mattress.

"that's just not possible. there is no love greater than the one I have for you" he replied, tickling you feverishly. you were pretty sure the whole floor could hear you laugh.

as always, you both fell asleep in each other's arms. comforted in the idea that the both of you will never be alone again.

no matter how much pillows were to be destroyed.

[knottedhearts]

Baking with Billie: B.E

The kitchen was a delightful mess. Flour dusted the countertops, and the sweet aroma of vanilla filled the air as you and Billie worked side by side, both laughing at the organized chaos you’d created. She had flour on her cheek, just a tiny smudge, and you couldn’t resist a soft chuckle as you watched her squint at the recipe.

“Are you sure this says a cup of sugar? I feel like we’ve already put in half the bag,” Billie questioned, looking at you with mock suspicion.

You grinned, shaking your head. “You know, that’s the beauty of baking—it’s part art, part science. I say we go with our instincts.”

“Instincts, huh?” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “Alright, chef, I’ll trust you… but if we end up with rock-hard cookies, I’m blaming you.”

She shot you a teasing look, but before you could respond, she dipped her fingers into the bowl of flour and flicked some at you. A small puff of white dust landed on your shirt and cheek, catching you completely off guard.

“Oh, it’s like that?” you laughed, grabbing a pinch of flour yourself and dusting her shoulder in return. She gasped, putting on an exaggerated look of shock, and soon the two of you were in a full-on flour fight, both laughing uncontrollably.

Finally, after you both called a truce, Billie leaned back against the counter, cheeks flushed from laughter, eyes bright. “You’re a terrible influence, you know that?”

“Me?” you said, pretending to be offended. “You started it!”

She rolled her eyes playfully and handed you a spoon, already loaded with the cookie dough. “Fine, truce. Here, taste test it and tell me it was worth it.”

You took a bite, savoring the sweetness, and nodded. “Perfect. Just like you planned it,” you teased.

Billie smiled, a hint of a blush rising in her cheeks. “Yeah, well… maybe I had a little help.”

You and Billie burst into laughter.

The laughter faded entirely, and for a moment, it was just you and Billie standing there, the kitchen mess forgotten. You looked at her, and her eyes held a softness, a silent invitation that made your heart race. Slowly, you leaned down, brushing your lips against hers, testing the waters. Her lips were soft, warm, and she responded with a gentle pressure that sent a spark through you.

Billie’s hand slid up around your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. Your arms wrapped around her waist instinctively, drawing her in until there was no space left between you. The kiss deepened, slow but with an intensity that made your heart pound faster with every second. Her breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel the way she melted into you, as if she’d been waiting for this as much as you had.

Her hands moved from your neck to your shoulders, fingers tracing gentle lines that left a trail of warmth. You pressed her closer, savoring the taste of her, the way her lips fit perfectly with yours, the way her fingers felt tangled in your hair. Every movement was unhurried, yet full of a quiet urgency, like you were both trying to make up for every second you’d waited for this moment.

Your lips parted, just slightly, and she followed, deepening the kiss even more. Time felt suspended; all you could feel was her, all you could hear was the sound of her breathing mixing with yours. Her hands slipped down to your chest, resting there as if to feel the beat of your heart, grounding you both in this intimate moment that felt as fragile as it was powerful.

Eventually, the two of you broke apart, just enough to look at each other, faces close, breaths mingling. She smiled softly, her eyes still holding that spark, and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling closer to her than ever. The mess around you was forgotten, and in that quiet, shared gaze, it felt like there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[bakubonez]

Sunday or dan heng x reader plsplspls

So down bad for these men

It doesn't matter what, i just need to kiss them and worship them so bad istg

Dan Heng x GN!reader || fluff

Summary: Dan Heng isn’t a fan of Sunday seemingly taking a shine to you. Jealousy sews its propaganda into his mind, and he needs a little bit of reassurance.

A/N: sorry for the shade I throw at Sunday thru out this, I’m still mad at him for not coming home 😇 I love Dan Heng he’s my baby

Dan Heng wasn’t the type of person to get jealous. Not easily, anyway. He was quite secure in his relationship, and he trusted you wholeheartedly to not take advantage of that. So far, you hadn’t given him a reason to retract his trust in you, and you didn’t have any plans to change that any time soon.

…Though, when a new handsome bachelor joined the express, it was difficult for Dan Heng to keep the seedlings of jealousy sewn into his heart from sprouting.

No, it wasn’t Caelus—he was far too busy being stupid to really catch your eye. No, no, the mild threat that had Dan Heng’s feathers ruffled was Sunday. Pun intended.

Initially when Sunday joined the express, he hadn’t been welcomed with open arms. After everything that had taken place on Penacony, the only person that was even remotely kind to him was Pom-Pom. And Shush, but Shush was nice to everyone so he doesn’t count right now.

Despite the rough start, Sunday had started to try to weasel his way into the little family that resided on the train. Dan Heng’s main concern was Sunday’s interest in you.

He’d occasionally catch you and Sunday chatting about new entries in the data bank, or chatting over a drink in the party car. Dan Heng knew you wouldn’t cheat—you wouldn’t stoop so low. Especially not with that… that… feathered creature. Regardless, the portions of time that you spent on Sunday when you could have been spending them with Dan Heng irked him a little bit. Just a little bit.

And, while he didn’t want to bring it up, you had noticed a very minute change in Dan Heng. Not a bad one, necessarily, but a change regardless. He started to seem a bit clingier. From keeping you in bed to hold you for longer or going as far as to hug you against him around the others, especially Sunday, you had picked up on his changed demeanour. He was still as loving and level-headed as always, just a tad bit more demanding.

With him resting his head on your chest, eyes closed but not asleep quite yet, you opt to bring it up. You wouldn’t prod too hard if he didn’t want to talk about it—after all, maybe he had just subconsciously started yearning for you more. But, you’d try to figure out what was going on regardless.

“You okay?” You ask carefully, twirling his layered hair around your fingers idly.

“Mmh?” he mumbles, face still buried against your shirt.

You take his inconclusive response as an invitation to go on.

“You just seem a little bit different recently. Not-not like a bad different, just…” you trail off.

Dan Heng shifts to look up at you, striking eyes meeting your own as you speak. “I am fine,” he assures you. “I don’t like Sunday.”

“What?”

“What?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you ask, a little bit bewildered by his declaration. You weren’t Sunday’s biggest fan either, but you didn’t mind at least being polite to him.

Dan Heng mumbled to himself non-committally, a very faint red tinging his ears.

Well, now you’re both confused. You’re trying to decode his grumbling, and he’s trying to put his feelings into words without sounding like an idiot.

“I don’t… I don’t think I like how much time you spend with Sunday,” he said finally, drawing you out of your thoughts and allowing you both to return to the conversation you were trying to have before the two of you were knocked off balance by Dan Heng.

“Oh,” you say foolishly, not really sure what to say to that. “You’re jealous of Sunday? Of all people?”

“No.”

“Yeahhh, I think you might be.”

“No.”

It brings a very faint smile to your lips, finally being able to figure out the root of Dan Heng’s influx of affection. Its also nice to know that he values your time together so much. Though, it does tempt you to giggle at the fact that Dan Heng thought there was any chance that you’d favour Sunday over him.

You lean forward to press a kiss to the top of Dan Heng’s head, and he seems to automatically relax at the touch.

“It’s okay. You aren’t in any competition with him,” you say, voice soft. “My time with you takes priority. If you don’t want Sunday stealing it, that’s perfectly fine by me.”

Dan Heng makes a little contented noise, the jealousy that had been lashing about in his head finally quieting. Deep down, he did know that you’d say something like that. He knew you’d choose him over Sunday. He just wanted the little bit of reassurance.

He hoped you’d always be around to give it to him.

[bigdumbtickler03]

Thinking about teasing someone who has really ticklish palms/hands by running a soft feather over em and cooing at them like “aww what’s wrong? does it tickle?”

Watching as they blush and cover their face all while letting out lil giggles <3

[beyhr]

evil woman

[beneathashadytree]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER - SYLUS QIN X READER SERIES MASTERLIST

“To have been summoned by a man as infamous as him did nothing but spell trouble—particularly for someone whose sole purpose in life was to lay low and get the job done as inconspicuously as possible. Sylus’ sudden looming presence was at best a nuisance, at worst her early demise, and she wasn’t about to let herself get caught off-guard. What she didn’t account for was that she’d long been dancing in the palm of his hand, in a wicked game orchestrated by him. Whether one lives or dies… it all depends on how they play by the rules. And how amusing it would be, should he find himself losing against the wheels of fate he’d so carefully set in motion. No one was safe from the cruelty of the underbelly of the N109 Zone—not even him.”

A series commissioned by @onliafaze <3

Additional notes : This has been in the works for more than a month now, and I’m super proud of the direction it’s heading in. I’ve been preparing this as a surprise for you guys, since I’ve never actually written a series before! Hope you guys enjoy it🫶🏽

Leave a reply here if you’d like to be tagged in this upcoming series in particular! 🫶🏽

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Little Crow

Chapter 2: Nightjar

Chapter 3: Finch

[more chapters to be announced soon!]

Series taglist: —

Sylus-specific taglist: @mrlovesimps @snowyfragrance @malcarconia @jaysbookofnothing @kitsune25 @monohopeworld @devilinside27 @lara635kookie @xinnn6 @moonlight-inthe-sea @canyonlouist @number-1-harumi-hater @2angelbaby2 @jinnieats @blobfishbumblebee @aesmstar @klutzycora-san @inkblotgalaxies @mxrissaauuu @risaaaaaa @lilithmoonlite @wooyoungsfairygf @hyunskz @lemonsupernova @kpop-and-otome @elizabeth916 @xcalkenf @i-am-fork @vergillvrr @billie-lover8 @kandi-bath853 @musiclover2119 @rafayelsheart @loveyluv7 @foiledbug @xxaviibee @hermiona18 @estelleokami @asherengel @wimpyvamps @witch-of-the-teapot @kttriangle @ayumi-darling @colorfulotaku @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @secretmoneybearvoid @kurov1864 @doubleshoticedshakenespresso @afterdarkwithkaeya @blossomingrose @uselessnewt @sleepydang @nikkitc0703 @this-gave-pidgeon-further-shock @luna-usagi-chan @darkflowerav

[featherpajamas]

Strawberry and banana smoothies made special for you friends! 🩶💛🤍

[katsukikisses]

birds of a feather: chapter two [hawks x reader]

chapter summary: keigo invites you over for the first time and lets you check out his wing-keeping kit. in the process, you learn a few things about his world.

chapter tags: childhood friends; neighbors trope; alternating povs; taking care of keigo's wings as a love language.

cw: prejudice; socioeconomic differences?

prefer to read on ao3? here!

prev. chapter | table of contents | next chapter

“'Do not enter' is written on the door way, Why can't everyone just go away? Except you, you can stay, — Alex G, Treehouse

The first time Keigo invited you over, you were ecstatic. 

The invite in itself was long overdue: the two of you had been friends for a year and neighbors for nearly two, so the fact that you’d never once stepped foot in his house during that period seemed like an intentional oversight. You didn’t mind always hanging out at yours’ (rather, you quite liked having Keigo inside your house), but you were insatiably curious about how your hybrid friend lived. You wanted to know what color his bedsheets were, what kind of cereal lined his pantry—everything there was to know about a person, really. 

However, your parents always told you that inviting yourself over was very rude, so you never pushed. You figured there was a reason for his hesitance and eventually stopped asking “ Your place or mine? ” on the walk home from school, letting your house become the default hang-out spot. That’s why, when, on a gray, inconspicuous Tuesday, Keigo asked if you’d like to come over, you were completely caught off guard.

“Wha—?” you sputtered, suddenly having lost the ability to form sentences, “Me, over? House?”

Keigo looked pleased at the state you’d been reduced to. “Yes, you-over-house,” he mocked, “We can even us-play-video games.”

“Shut up,” you reddened. “I’m just surprised since we usually go to mine. B-but I don’t mind going to yours at all! Let’s hurry.” 

You shifted your backpack higher up on your shoulders and began speed-walking down the street, leaving Keigo behind you. You didn’t want to give him the time to change his mind. The blonde snorted, but quickened his pace to match yours. 

Soon, the two of you made it to your street. You took a brief moment to dash inside your own house and yell that you were going to Keigo’s—eliciting surprised Okays from your parents—before dashing back across the street to Keigo’s side. Laughing at your eagerness, he unlatched the front door and entered, leaving you to follow. 

Your first impression of the Takami household was that it was similar to yours: staircase left of the foyer, living room connected to the kitchen. The similarities were to be expected, given that your houses were most likely built by the same construction company—but that was where they ended. Unlike your house, which your mother kept fastidiously white and empty, Keigo’s was full of life. The walls were painted a pretty sage green, and lined with pictures of Keigo, his mother, and an older couple you assumed were his grandparents. The windowsills were also filled with all sorts of plants and herbs, adding a welcome splash of color to the room. It was a stark contrast to the sad, blank interior of your own abode—Keigo’s house had character .

“I know it’s not as nice as yours,” Keigo apologized as he watched you take in your surroundings. “My mom insists on keeping all these dumb plants and—”

“Keigo, I love your house!” you exclaimed, cutting him off. “It’s so much prettier compared to mine. I wish Mom would let us paint our walls or keep plants, but apparently Architectural Digest says that’s not Beige Chic , or whatever.”

Keigo smiled. He knew he shouldn’t have doubted your reaction. “Okay, well once you’re done admiring my pretty house, come upstairs so I can beat you at Mario Kart.”

Your eyes flashed excitedly, immediately leaving the picture you were inspecting to follow after Keigo. “Sure you will. Hey, remind me again who’s the reigning champion?”

The blonde gave you an irritated look, but before he could retort, you were pushing past him up the stairs and into his bedroom. This was what you’d been most curious about on your walk back, and you couldn’t wait any longer to see it. Ignoring Keigo’s words of protest, you opened the door.

“Wow,” you blinked at the sight. “It’s very…angry.”

You didn’t know what you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been… this . Keigo’s bedroom was practically devoid of anything except for Endeavor , his favorite superhero. The walls were plastered with posters of the flame hero, and a row of his figurines lined Keigo’s desk. Atop his twin-sized bed sat a small Endeavor stuffie, which smoldered at you menacingly from across the room. 

You spun around to face your friend. “Keigo, I didn’t you were a fanboy!”

In the doorway of his room, Keigo flushed a red that rivaled his plumage. 

“It’s not—I’m not a fanboy ,” he sputtered, “I just happen to like the show! And they always have a lot of his merch at the thrift and—you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just sit down.”

Laughing, you took a seat on the carpet and faced his XBox. “Whatever you say, fanboy .”

Keigo valiantly ignored your comment and began rifling through a box of controllers. You took this time to take in the rest of his room, which, aside from the Endeavor paraphernalia, was completely unassuming. There wasn’t much furniture other than a bed and desk, and what little else Keigo did possess was painted in dull shades of grey. The only splash of color was the green sweater he’d been wearing yesterday, now stuffed haphazardly into his drawers. Your eyes lazily followed the outline of the cabinet, until they reached the small box resting atop it.  

“What’s that?” you pointed to the box curiously.

Keigo looked up from where he’d been setting up the XBox—an ancient thing he and his mom had scored at Goodwill—and spotted what you were pointing at. “Oh, that’s my wing-keeping kit.”

“Wing-keeping?”

“Yeah,” he shifted his wings, letting them catch rays from the window. The red plumes gleamed like rubies. “You didn’t think they were naturally like this, did you? This kind of exquisiteness requires serious upkeep, YN”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. The sight of Keigo’s feathers fluttering was nothing short of mesmerizing, and, for some reason, you liked that he was showing off to you. “Can I see the tools?”

The words left your mouth before you could think about them. You watched as Keigo’s wings immediately came to a still, and you internally groaned. Here we go. 

Over the course of your year-long friendship with Keigo, you’d come to learn a lot about the blonde. You knew that he liked superhero shows (specifically Endeavor: Legend of the Flame) and that his favorite subject was History. He could run a 7-minute mile—the fastest out of all the fourth-grade boys—and was a fiend for fried chicken. You knew that, despite being relatively popular, he didn’t really like the other kids at school, and you were probably the closest thing to a best friend that he had. And most importantly, you knew to never, ever talk about hybrids around him. 

At first, you figured he was just annoyed by your questions. As the only hybrid in your class, Keigo was constantly being probed by your classmates about his wings or eye markings. He’d never ignore them, of course, always answering their queries good-naturedly—but the tight-lipped smile he wore during those interactions betrayed his agitation. As your friendship progressed and you interacted more frequently with the blonde, though, you realized it wasn’t just questions about himself that irritated Keigo—it was whenever humans talked about hybrids at all. The week your class covered Japan’s history of hybrid discrimination, Keigo had resolutely faced the window and didn’t take a single note; and whenever Endeavor fought a hybrid villain on screen, Keigo huffed and asked to skip the episode. Little incidents like those deterred you from asking any questions related to his bird appendages, and even more from inquiring about the reason behind his anger. 

Thus, you’d gone an entire year avoiding discussing anything hybrid-related with him. You figured that, as with him not inviting you in, he’d eventually get over it—you were sitting in his room right now, weren’t you? Plus, he couldn’t hate humans altogether if he was friends with you. There must be a logical reason behind his behavior, you reasoned.

Except, you’d blown any chance of that happening, now that you opened your big fat mouth and asked about his wings. And the first time he invited me over, too, you bemoaned internally. You’d at least wanted to see the kitchen before you got kicked out!

“Um, sorry,” you backtracked, “I don’t know why I asked that. It’s personal, I know—sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Keigo replied, equally hesitant. He took a deep breath as if preparing himself for a daunting task. “Um, if you really want to see, I can show you. The tools, I mean.”

Your jaw nearly fell to the ground. “Really? I can see?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” he said, sounding as though it were absolutely a big deal. He walked over to his cabinet and swiped the kit off the top. You watched, disbelieving, as he made his way back to you and deposited it unceremoniously in your lap. 

The first thing you registered about the kit was that it was heavy—heavier than it looked. It was constructed of smooth wood paneling and about the size of a book, with no indication of what resided within it save for a small feather engraved on the top, and perhaps the faint smell of essential oils emitting from it Your fingers fluttered over the ridges of the box, and, with one final seeking glance at Keigo, you lifted the lid off the top. 

As the smell suggested, the inside of the kit was lined with various vials of oil, each labeled something different. Laying next to the oils, their sharp edges cushioned by the velvet interior, was a collection of tools: shears of various sizes as well as several brushes and clippers. They glinted menacingly in the afternoon light, causing you to reign in a shudder; you couldn’t imagine using tools like that on your own body. 

Keigo watched your expression carefully. “I have to trim and condition my feathers about every two weeks,” he explained, “Or else they’ll get tangled and torn.” 

“I didn’t realize they required so much attention,” you tore your gaze away from the box and faced him. And, for the second time that day, your mouth moved before your brain. “Can you show me? How you do it?”

“…Sure,” he said after a momentary pause, looking faintly bemused. “It’s been a while since I last trimmed them, anyway.” 

He began picking out various tools and oils from the box. You leaned forward, eager to see which ones he chose. When it came to Keigo, it was like you could never know enough. 

He lined the three oils he’d grabbed—labeled “primaries”, “secondaries”, and “contour”, respectively—on the floor. “The different oils are for different parts of my wings,” he said, extending out his left wing as he spoke. “My primary feathers are these long feathers out here, and the inner ones are called secondaries. And these are my contour feathers, which make me more aerodynamic—they help me fly better, basically,” he amended, noticing your blank stare. “But before I do that, I have to trim them.”

As he finished his explanation, he removed a large tablecloth from the bottom of the kit and unfolded it on the floor. He picked up one of the shears he’d taken out earlier and began trimming off the edges of his wings. Red tufts fluttered to the floor, like autumn leaves shaken out of a tree. You stared, enthralled, before his earlier words registered in your mind. 

“Wait, fly? I thought you weren’t…allowed to,” you trailed off, realizing you were approaching dangerous territory. Hybrid Limitations were one of the most contentious topics in Japan, and you figured that Keigo, as an avian hybrid, would have his share of thoughts on it. 

Instead of becoming upset, though, he merely shook his head. “I’m not,” he confirmed. His words were punctuated by the steady snip of shears coming down around another feather. “This kit was passed down to me from my grandfather, and during his time there weren’t restrictions on winged hybrids. So it still contains flight-care stuff.”

“Oh,” you said, “Do you wish you could fly?” 

Keigo peered at you through the folds of his wing. Randomly, you were struck by the memory of the first time he came to your house; cold and wet, focused on drying off his wings while you chattered annoyingly at him. 

“Maybe,” he set down the shears and picked up one of the vials of oil. Surprised, you realized he was already done with trimming. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get to, though.”

Keigo gave his wings a firm ruffle, shaking off any lingering feather trimmings. Then, he poured a small bit of oil into his palms and began carding them gently through his longest feathers—the primaries, you recalled. You watched in silence as he worked down his wing, coating each plume in a thin layer of oil. Usually when Keigo was focused on something, he had a look of intense concentration on his face: brows pinched, eyes narrowed. Yet, now, his expression was relaxed and peaceful—this must be calming for him.

As he got closer to his inner feathers, though, he had to strain his neck to oil them properly, and his tranquil expression dissolved into a more concentrated one. “My mom usually helps me with the back,” he explained, sounding slightly frustrated, “It’s harder for me to see back there and—”

“I can help you,” you said. Keigo’s hands stilled in his wings, and you wondered a bit too late if your offer had been inappropriate. But you’d already breached all sorts of boundaries today, so what was one more? 

Keigo cleared his throat. “Um, sure. Come, uh—come closer.” 

“Okay,” you shuffled over to behind him. “Um, what do I…”

“Grab the oil labeled ‘secondaries’.”

“Okay.”

“Pour a little into your hands—yeah, that’s good. And let it heat up a bit in your palms.”

“Okay.”

“Now, you see the feathers at the bottom of my wings? The shorter ones.”

“Yeah.”

“Work the oil into them, from the root to the ends.” 

“Okay,” you gulped. Your hands, covered in a sharp-smelling oil, shook as you reached toward the feathers. I have to do this right , you thought determinedly—you couldn’t bear it if you accidentally hurt Keigo. 

Slowly, you grabbed the outermost feather and began working the oil into it. If your own hands hadn’t been shaking so badly, you might’ve noticed the way Keigo’s wings shuddered, too. 

After you got through the first few feathers without doing any damage—and leaving Keigo content, seemingly—you became more confident in your abilities. Your movements were more fluid, and your shoulders untensed—you could see why your friend found this relaxing. 

Once you finished the secondaries, you moved on to the last section: his contour feathers. You picked up the appropriately labeled oil and found that it was much fuller than the other two. Recalling what he said about not being able to fly, you sadly realized that those feathers probably didn’t get as much use as his other ones, therefore needing less maintenance. With newfound vigor, you uncapped the vial and poured a generous amount into your palms.

“I hope,” you began, “That you get a lot of use out of this oil one day.”

“I hope not,” Keigo replied, “That’s the most expensive one.”

(He knew what you meant, though.)

It was rare for Takami Toomie to see her house during the day. 

Well, it was nearing evening, technically, but sunlight was sunlight. Between her job at the restaurant, the hospital, and…the other one, she’d practically become a vampire—she couldn’t remember the last time she came home before midnight. But today all the stars had aligned perfectly: her coworker had agreed to cover her shift, the hospital hadn’t called her in, and—best of all—the fried chicken ordered from their restaurant never got picked up, leaving it up for grabs. 

Toomie recalled staring at the steaming bucket of chicken for the entire pick-up hour, and then snatching it up as soon as time was up. She’d flushed when her coworkers saw her shove the food into her bag, but their judgment would be nothing compared to the joy of seeing Keigo smile—something that happened too infrequently for Toomie’s liking. Though, it's not exactly like I encourage him to be more carefree... 

Shaking off her guilt, Tookie pushed through the front door of her home. She smiled at the sight of rays filtering in through the window and meandered over to the kitchen, where she set down the bucket. A glance at the clock told her that Keigo was already back at school, and her smile widened. They could eat together! 

She grabbed her phone from her bag and began searching for the LNs contact. She assumed Keigo was with them, considering he slept over practically every day now. It was a development she tried not to be too bothered by, as she knew it was lonely for him here. Still, she couldn’t help but be wary of the situation. YN seemed like a sweet kid, on the few occasions she’d met them, but one could never be sure…

She sighed as finally found the contact. Keigo would be a little upset at being called back early, she figured, but his disappointment would definitely disappear as soon as he saw the chicken. Plus, the two of them hadn’t had dinner together in forever. Reaffirmed in her decision, Toomie made to hit Call on the contact—but just as her finger was about to tap the screen, she heard the faintest sounds of conversation emanating from upstairs. 

Toomie paused. It sounded like two kids...did Keigo have a friend over? Curiously, she made her way to the stairwell and strained to listen, wings shifting nervously behind her. Keigo never told her that he was bringing someone over, and he wasn’t the type to sneak around behind her back, either. Immediately, terrible thoughts filled her head. What if someone had followed Keigo home and they were hurting him upstairs? Or what if someone had broken in and were robbing them? Panicked, she dropped her phone and sprinted up the stairs, wings flapping madly behind her. They ached from disuse, but she didn’t even register the pain. Her only thoughts were Keigo, Keigo, Keigo. 

She threw open his bedroom door, and the sight that greeted her was more horrible than any robbery or bullying. Keigo was sitting on the floor, wings spread out to their maximum length, while you kneeled behind him, gently carding oil through his inner-most feathers. Next to you was Keigo’s wing-keeping kit—a gift from his grandfather, her father —with various tools and vials spilling out of it. Everything was out in the open for you to see.

At the sound of the door hitting the wall, Keigo turned around. “Mom?” his eyes widened. “When did you get back?”

“Just now,” she replied, her eyes flitting between the two of you. “You didn’t tell me you were having guests over, Keigo.”

Hearing this, you sheepishly stood and bowed to her. Your hands, still covered in oil, hung awkwardly in the hair. 

“I’m sorry for coming over uninvited, Takami-san,” you apologized, “I should’ve had my parents call you.” 

At the sight of your nervousness, Toomie’s agitation subsided. “It’s alright, YN-chan,” she said, attempting a kind tone. But her day had been long and she’d worked the night shift beforehand and—she just wanted to have dinner with her son. “I’m just surprised, is all. Plus, it’s Keigo who should’ve said something.”

She turned her attention back to her son. “You need to tell me when you have hu—people over, Kei.”

She barely managed to cover her slip-up. Keigo raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. 

“Well, I didn’t know you were even going to see them, since you don’t usually get back until later. Why are you back this early anyway?”

Toomie groaned internally. Wasn’t he a little young for the rebellious stage? “I got off work early,” she said tightly, “And I thought we could have dinner toge—”

“Is that chicken?” Keigo cut her off, finally registering the mouth-watering smell wafting from the kitchen. His wings, freshly clipped and conditioned, raised excitedly. Toomie couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“Oh, well then I should probably go,” you said awkwardly, wiping your oil-covered hands off on your school uniform. Toomie wished she could’ve told you to not do that, as wing-keeping oils were notoriously difficult to get out of clothes—your skirt would permanently have greasy handprints on them now. But before she could say something, you were nimbly sliding past her in the doorway and into the hall. 

“Please enjoy your dinner!” you smiled at the two of them. 

Keigo jumped up from his spot on the floor and ran after you. “Wait, YN,” he said, “Don’t go yet.” 

He glanced briefly at his mother, asking her an unspoken question. But the woman was looking at you, still wringing your hands awkwardly in the hallway.

Toomie exhaled softly through her nose. After all those free dinners they gave Keigo, she thought miserably, Practically every day of the year…how could I even come close to repaying them? 

“Yes, YN-chan, we would love for you stay for dinner,” she lied, “Do you like fried chicken?” 

Your eyes practically sparkled as you thanked her excitedly, assuring her that, yes, you loved fried chicken. As the three of you made your way down the stairs, Keigo pulling you by the wrist, Toomie couldn’t help but mourn her lost dinner. The bucket was a share-size, yet with how much Keigo ate, he could probably put away the entire thing—it had been a stretch for the two of them to share, much less three people. Looks like you and Keigo would be enjoying an adult-free dinner, tonight. Toomie sighed, resigning herself to a trip to the konbini. She’d refrained from snacking on kitchen scraps and sent-back meals as she usually did during her shift, not wanting to spoil her appetite, and this was what she got. Honestly, with her evening plans now canceled, she might just head back to work—clearly, she could use the extra money. 

Toomie watched as Keigo tugged you into the kitchen and began pulling plates and silverware out of the drawers. She wondered how she could gracefully bow out of the dinner—kids didn’t really think too hard about those sorts of interactions, but she also didn’t want you to report back to your parents that Toomie didn’t bother spending any time with you. She was already going to be the mom who brought back a bucket of fried chicken as dinner, for God’s sake.  

Still ruminating over her dilemma, Toomie didn’t notice you seemingly lost in your own thoughts. Even as Keigo set the dinner table—for three people, the little idealist—you remained standing, simply staring at the bucket. 

“Actually, Keigo-kun, Takami-san,” you started, spinning around to face them, “I have a good idea! My parents are having yakisoba tonight, along with some other vegetables. Fried chicken goes great with yakisoba, doesn’t it? We should take it over to my house and eat together! My mom’s always asking you to come over anyways, Takami-san.”

You finished with a bright grin on your face. Toomie only blinked in response. 

(Perhaps you deserved a little more credit than she gave you.) 

“That’s really nice of you to offer, dear. I think we’ll take you up on that.” Toomie managed. From across the kitchen, Keigo gaped at her—she knew he’d expected her to decline. “You’re too kind, YN-chan.” 

You, too, seemed shocked that Toomie actually accepted—a deserved reaction, considering the amount of times she’d turned down your family’s invitations in the past. But you recovered quickly, your blinding grin overtaking your face once more.

“It’s my pleasure,” you said brightly. You picked up the bucket of chicken and started out the door, suddenly heading the whole operation. “I hope we can eat before the sun sets!” 

Keigo hurriedly shoved the plates back into the drawers and dashed after you, calling for you to wait for him. Toomie smiled at the sight, before sighing again and walking over to the fridge. She began rifling through its contents—some leftovers from work, a pack of expired beer—in hopes of dredging up a side dish. Impromptu as this dinner was, she couldn’t be so pathetic as to only show up with cold fried chicken. 

Yet, even as Toomie peered into her frighteningly empty fridge, she couldn’t help but feel content with the outcome of her evening. Absolutely nothing about it had gone to plan—but Keigo was smiling, wasn’t he?  

Maybe YN would be good for them, Toomie admitted. 

Next Chapter (

author's note: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to come out. This chapter explores more of Keigo's life since the first chapter was very reader-focused, but Toomie's also able to give us an outsider's perspective on YN. I think due to having very present and communicative parents she's become emotionally intelligent at a young age (which I see in a lot of the kids at the private school I work at lol); however, a lot of the practical application still depends on socializing with kids her age and besides Keigo she doesn't have a lot of practice with that…but we'll see more in the coming chapters 🫣🫣

Thanks for reading and I can't wait to see you guys in the next chapter!

[yuwuta]

Nanami ver of bsf upstaging bf?? ❤️

listen… i meant what i said when nanami is just as bad, if not worse when it comes to driving your boyfriend away/upstaging him... maybe his tact makes him a better man than satoru, but you could also argue that it doesn’t; you could argue that kento is is only as respectful as necessary and consciously pushes boundaries, whereas satoru just does!! he just IS!! satoru IS overbearing and knows no consequence, but kento is not and he is very aware that evert action has a consequence, but he weighs it, determines it’s worth it, or—arguably worse—determines that the threat of your boyfriend getting mad or figuring him out isn’t high enough. kento is premeditated murder, he is going to drive your boyfriend so insane, to a place where he fully believes he cannot compete where he cannot compares, and kento will not feel bad about it. so, i rest my case, vice president of the not shit club, and their children are NO better!! 

also, having been friends with kento sets a bar that your past and/or current boyfriend must quickly learn to meet, and more often than not, they don’t even come close. why go on random dating-app dates when kento sends food to your house just because he had an inkling you were sad (you texted him in a certain way that tipped him off). dates meeting you halfway at a restaurant/bar isn’t nearly as flattering when kento drives an hour in heavy rain and traffic after work to pick you up, just to make good on seeing a movie you told him you were excited about. expensive dinner dates and bar hopping becomes mundane when that’s the normal for you and kento, when he regularly takes you out to dinner, if not weekly, then at least bi-weekly, because he’s intentional about your friendship and having time to spend and catch-up with each other in between busy work days. it’s hard to be impressed with a boyfriend when your best-friend takes you on his twice-yearly vacations and pays for everything, citing that even though getting a proper vacation is hard, he loves the time spent with you, so it’s all worth it. kento doesn’t even have to wait for some guy to become your boyfriend, he puts any potential partners out of the running by the standards he’s already set for you. 

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: (folded up and hunched over with chin in hands) (brooding)

Vaggie: "Someone's got a lovely long face today."

Charlie: (sighs) "Sorry..."

Vaggie: "Don't be, sweetie." (sits and hunches over too, hands clasped) "What's got you down?"

Charlie: "You, kinda."

Vaggie: "Me?" (terrified) "What did-"

Charlie: "And all this." (waves at vaggie next to her) "Specifically."

Vaggie: (edges away) "Is it the 'sweetie' thing? 'Cause I'll stop-"

Charlie: "No. No, I like it." (sighs again) "Vaggie, in the wonderful, amazing, dream-like over a YEAR we've known each other now, have you ever, like..."

Vaggie: (edging closer again) "...have I ever...?"

Charlie: "Killed anyone?"

Vaggie: "Wh- No!"

Charlie: "Not even a little?"

Vaggie: "What would 'killed them a little' even look like..? I mean, sure I've thought about maiming people, and probably would've a few times if you hadn't been there, but-"

Charlie: "What about when I wasn't looking? No... sneaking out for some midnight murder sprees?"

Vaggie: "Charlie- I can't even get up to use the bathroom without you tearing up half the bed with your claws looking for me. We've had to get new sheets three times this month. And last time I took a midnight shower, I found you curled up on the floor just outside the door afterwards. I almost STEPPED on you!"

Charlie: (pouting) "You were gone when I woke up."

Vaggie: "I was gone maybe ten minutes."

Charlie: "And I was missing you."

Vaggie: "Yeah. I figured." (smiles) "So how the fuck am I supposed to be sneaking out to kill people, when I'm best friends with the biggest cuddle bug in all creation?"

Charlie: "I don't know!" (frustrated) "NONE of this makes any SENSE!"

Vaggie: ".... now I feel like I'm missing something."

Charlie: "You're not though! That's why-" (GROWLS) (yanks at hair)

Vaggie: "Okay, hey- Charlie?" (takes her hand) "Talk to me?"

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "...why're you still here?"

Vaggie: "Do you... want me to move out?"

Charlie: "NO! Never! I, you- I don't even know how I'd-"

Vaggie: "So that's not the problem here. What is?"

Charlie: "The PROBLEM is- I want you here, but you shouldn't BE here! You're not a bad person! Whatever you did or used to do- you haven't been for a whole YEAR, and I'm just- just being stupid and selfish wanting you to stay, but you-"

Vaggie: "You're not-"

Charlie: "-aren’t doing anything bad! So WHY-"

Vaggie: "Charlie, hold on- no- you're not stupid or selfish. You've been alone, and that's not something you did anything to deserve, okay?"

Charlie: "...."

Vaggie: "You can be sad without apologizing for it too, you know."

Charlie: (slumping) "Why are you still in hell, Vaggie?"

Vaggie: (wryly) "Not like I've got wings to flutter off with."

Charlie: "You deserve them."

Vaggie: "..... thanks for saying so, sweetie."

Charlie: "It's true."

Vaggie: “Pretty sure it’s not, since I don’t have them.”

Charlie: “You should. You should have them.”

Vaggie: “I’d rather have this.”

Vaggie: (lifts their hands)

Vaggie: “Who needs wings, when you’ve got the best cuddle bug ever. Right?”

Charlie: (holds tight) “…heaven’s probably better. Full of people you wouldn’t want to even maim. That’s where you belong, not down here in hell…”

Vaggie: “…with you?”

Charlie: “Oh I’d be fine!”

Vaggie: (lifts brow)

Charlie: “Really!” (looks away) “It’d be good. Knowing you’re up there in heaven, and, happy.”

Vaggie: “I wouldn’t be happy.”

Charlie: “Sure you would.” (miserable) “It’s heaven.”

Vaggie: “Hell’s better. It’s where you are.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “Be serious? Please?”

Vaggie: “I am. But it's not gonna work if you don’t listen to it.”

Charlie: “Fine.”

Charlie: (deep breath) (looks vaggie in the eye)

Charlie: “Vaggie. Do you want me to try getting you into heaven?”

Vaggie: “No.”

Charlie: (voice crack) “Are you SURE?”

Vaggie: “I’m not going anywhere. I’d miss you too much.”

Charlie: “...okay.”

Charlie: (laughs wetly) “Okay. I’d. Same.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Vaggie: (dabs away charlie’s tears)

Vaggie: “You’ve been feeling extra lonely haven' you, thinking about all that on your own.”

Charlie: “Maybe. A little.”

Vaggie: “…sorry I didn’t, you know. Make sure you knew sooner. ”

Charile: (laughs for real) “Don’t be. Not like I asked.”

Vaggie: (smiles) “Sorry for making you feel like you even had to ask.”

Charlie: “Um. Uh.” (clears throat) “You’re forgiven?”

Vaggie: (chuckles)

Charlie: “…and, you’ll tell me, if you change your mind? About the whole heaven thing?”

Vaggie: “I won’t change my mind, Charlie.”

Charlie: “But if you do, you’ll say so?”

Vaggie: “Mmm, kinda feels like you’re saying it like you think I will.”

Charlie: “No. I mean you can, I just… don’t wanna worry about it like this again.”

Vaggie: “Oh. Then I promise-”

Charlie: “Thank you.”

Vaggie: “-if you promise me you’ll let me know what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours.”

Charlie: “Pfft- More silly than brilliant. Didn’t wanna bother you.”

Vaggie: “Bother me? Now you're really sounding silly. You’re not the only one who’s been lonely.”

Charlie: “Huh? You? Why were you- Ohhh…”

Vaggie: “You’ve been a million miles away lately. Welcome back.”

Charlie: “Aww Vaggie! Were you missing me, even when I was right in front of you???”

Vaggie: “Don’t even.”

Charlie: “That’s so cuuuute~”

Vaggie: “Don't. You've been worse. You were impersonating a rug- You clung on so hard after I picked you up I couldn’t even get the blankets over us again.”

Charlie: “Lucky I make a good blanket!”

Vaggie: “The best. But you still gotta stop sleeping in front of the bathroom door.”

Charlie: “I can, try?”

Vaggie: “Is it really that hard to stay in a warm soft bed?”

Charlie: “It is when you’re not there!”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, please. I’ll be coming right back.”

Charlie: “…then I can wait.”

Vaggie: “Good.”

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: “Probably. I think I can probably wait.”

Vaggie: “Ugghh...”

Vaggie: (playfully bumps shoulders) (leans in as charlie hugs her instead)

[guppygiggles]

Avery couldn’t let me have all the fun… 😏 Yet another attitude adjustment for a troublemaker puppy~

@xsunnysoftx