#it was always much more difficult than he made it look

[callmeizukunotdeku]

In his time with the League, Damian learned to live with a lot but love very little.

He was surrounded by opulence--that was a power play, a demonstration, more than anything. It was Ra's' way of showing that he had power.

The problem, of course, was how easily power can breed envy and just how much can be taken away by someone with nothing to lose.

From a very young age, his mother taught him to think--to look inside and establish what he cared for--what he would fight for and what he was willing to give up.

Growing up in the League meant that he could love very little and know it was all safe. In case of emergency, whether that be a coup, assassination attempt, what have you, he could take very little with him.

Growing up, Damian loved his mother, her stories, and his sketchbook.

He never strayed too far from either so that, should worst come to worst, he wouldn't have to leave either behind.

Richard had done all he could to unteach that lesson along with many others he learned with the League.

That, of course, had made it all that much harder to leave.

He had to close himself off, teach himself, again, to think--what did he really care about?

What was he willing to leave behind?

He got distracted with thoughts of when did Richard become someone I could leave? and ended up leaving with less than he should have.

The first few days at Tim's were spent in space. Tim didn't neglect him--the two of them ate together, lived together, but Tim still had his classes and Damian's admission to a local school hadn't gone through yet, so, while he spent nights patrolling with Tim, he spent his days alone.

Either he slept or he drew. Sleep, though the easier option to chose, did not come as easy as it used to. Drawing was an outlet to him, a way to filter his emotions into something tangible--prove to himself that they were real--but he didn't want to see the emotions he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hide them or hide from them, but his thoughts were not welcome guests in his head, which, of course, made sleeping all the more difficult.

He'd close his eyes, take a deep breath, and drift.

He'd drift and he'd think about how, in moving in with Tim, he learned the difference between living near someone and living with someone.

He learned the difference between patrolling next to someone and patrolling with someone.

It helped him see himself more clearly, but it also helped him see Tim.

He'd always known Tim was a unique fighter. When they were still enemies, it was his unpredictability that made him hard to defeat. Damian could see, now, how that unpredictability was the result of estrangement. Tim was not close enough to Bruce to be trained by him.

He had patrolled once, against orders, and then been sent to be trained by a foreign hand.

Damian could see a part of himself in the way Tim fought. Their styles were dissimilar, but muscle memory was hard to unlearn and it was clear to any educated watcher that the two of them did not fight like Bats.

Still, as Damian patrolled more and more with Tim, they learned to fight together. They did not use the same styles, but then, having different styles meant that they had different strengths and weaknesses, all the better for covering each other's blind spots.

Damian grew to understand Tim in a way he hadn't fully let himself before. As he understood, he began to relax--let himself expand into his room, finish unpacking.

Now, Richard and Tim both had different rules, but one thing the two of them agreed upon was that no one was to enter Damian's room without his permission.

It seemed silly to him--the idea that the space he took up was his even when he had no formal claim to it. What was more, however, was the fact that, once he had finished decorating, he had to sacrifice a bit of his pride.

He wanted Tim to see his new room--truly, he did--and if Tim entered and exited when he pleased, he could just...come in and Damian could mention that the room was fully decorated and see how Tim reacted.

Instead, he had to invite Tim--invite his judgment. It left him more vulnerable than he would have preferred, but he trusted Tim, so, before patrol, one night, he asked, "Timothy? Can I show you something?"

"Of course, Dami. What is it?"

"My room. I finished decorating."

Tim smiled, "Lead the way."

He did, showing Tim the little things he'd added to make his room his--a declaration of his intent to stay, as much for Tim as it was for himself.

Tim followed Damian around the room, adding small complements here and there before stopping. "You kept this?"

He was holding the photo.

"Of course," Damian said, "It was a good day."

Tim smiled at the photo before putting it down.

Damian furrowed his brow, "I...forget--why weren't you in the photograph?"

Tim gave him a curious look, "Because I was the one taking the photo."

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[chuuqqi]

♡ྀི ₊ borrowed

️️️⠀ ⠀️️️ ⤷ roronoa zoro ❤︎

꒰ summary: wearing a piece of clothing owned by the swordsman was not a sight he'd ever imagined enjoying as much as he did. ꒱

꒰ contents: fluff fluff fluff! reader is shy & a little flirty. zoro is head over heels for reader. very soft & flustered zoro <3 ꒱

꒰ notes: i have really been craving some soft zoro content and this popped in my head and i HAD to write it out ^_^ ꒱

♡ + ⤿ are very much appreciated ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა !

zoro had always admired you from afar.

you were beautiful, kind, and merry. you moved so gently, as if all would shatter if you didn't do so. you spoke in such a sweet and melodious voice that every time he heard you, his heart would involuntarily skip a beat. you treated everyone on the crew so lovingly that there were many a times he wished he had even a sliver of the goodness that you had.

despite his stoic demeanour, it crumbled every time you were around. he couldn't help the pink that painted his cheeks, his heart that felt like it would thump out of his chest, his mouth that stumbled on his words. you turned him into pile of mush with your presence alone and it was maddening to him.

though secretly, he revelled in this newfound feeling — if it was with you he got to explore it with.

he didn't think there were any more ways for you to make his heart flutter and stomach churn with reverence. that was, until he saw you wear one of his t-shirts.

he did not own many so he wondered how you'd got a hold of it in the first place. he wondered why you chose his t-shirt out of all the others. had you chosen his on purpose? the thoughts clouding his mind were driving him insane.

seeing you engulfed in his top made his entire body turn to goo. it hung on your frame, clinging onto your divine curves. your chest was more exposed than usual which resulted in a blush to tinge his face when he realised he'd been staring for a bit too long.

he couldn't exactly understand why it was so endearing to him that you were wearing his clothes — it could be that he felt a sense of pride wash over him, making him feel as if you were branded his now. he'd give you every top he owned and relish in the sight.

you were sat on the swing with a book on your lap as you swayed mindlessly. the sunlight bore down on you, illuminating your features in a manner that made you prettier than ever. he had just taken note that the t-shirt's length was long enough to cover the shorts you wore underneath. that allowed him to admire your plush thighs as they squeezed together to keep the book in place.

zoro just stared from the rails. he wanted to come sit by you and ask you why you were wearing his t-shirt. it was a simple question. it was not a difficult task. he had done so much worse before and he had never floundered.

so why did he feel so nervous in this moment?

he felt foolish that out of everything he was capable of doing, this is what rendered him hopeless. "i am so lame", he thought, mentally giving himself a face palm at his idiocy.

"zoro!", he heard your voice call him from the swing. "come here." he didn't think twice as he sauntered over to you and plopped himself in front of you.

"what's up?", he asked, combing through with his hair. only after he had sat down had he realised how close he actually was. if he bent forward just enough, he could rest his head on your thighs. that image alone turned his face into an even darker pink than it was before.

"nothing," you hummed whilst placing your book aside. "you kept looking here so i called you over."

he wanted to dig himself a hole. the fact that you had noticed him leering at you made him feel so abashed. he thought he was being discreet, stealing glances at you when you weren't looking. but wait... did that mean you had been staring back at him? that would be the only explanation, right? he did not want to get his hopes up but just thinking about that possibility made it nearly impossible for him to hold back the small smile that tugged at his lips.

zoro could sense that the silence that had fallen between you both was about to turn awkward so before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "why are you wearing my t-shirt?". it came out harsher than he had expected and that earned him a second mental face palm.

he saw your cheeks redden as you softly bunched up the end of the t-shirt in your hands. "how cute," he thought. your gaze averted his as you said, "well, it was laundry day for me and i didn't have any comfy clothes to wear so i just picked up a top i found that was clean."

and it was his.

"i hope you don't mind," you murmured. your hands now rested on either side of your legs and you pushed yourself forward, your faces now a few inches apart. the distance made his heart race and he swore if you were any closer you'd be able to hear it hammering. he could smell your dulcet scent wafting in the breeze, intoxicating his senses.

he cleared his throat as he croaked out, "no. it's fine. you can wear my stuff."

you smiled and brought your hand near his body. it hovered for a moment before your finger slipped into the collar of the t-shirt he was wearing. he felt your finger graze over his skin as you slowly ran it along the collar. his body tensed up under your touch, his mind turning hazy at your actions. "even this one?", you asked in a tone so sickeningly sweet, he had to restrain himself from pressing his lips onto yours.

he cleared his throat once more before replying, "yeah, wear whatever you like."

you let out a little giggle, removing your finger from his collar. you still hadn't moved back, your faces seemingly even closer than it had been several moments ago. he could feel your breath on his lips and the heat radiating from your body. if his eyes were not deceiving him, the blush that tinted your face had darkened.

"do you like when i wear your clothes?", you asked shyly. it was rather baffling to him that one second you seemed so brazen with your behaviour and the next you seemed so coy. it was admittedly one of his favourite things about you.

he had to reel himself back in from his thoughts that had begun conjuring up various romantic scenarios of the two of you. he peered at you with a docility that he reserved only for you. your entire face was glowing under the sun and he truly believed there wasn't anyone who could compare to you.

his voice came out quieter than he wanted but thankfully you had heard him, "yeah. because it's you."

had it not been for the proximity, he wouldn't have heard the tiny squeal that you let out. the amore he had for you had grown tenfold in that very moment. you slapped your hand over your mouth and shut your eyes, clearly embarrassed by your own reaction. he didn't know if you had meant to but you placed your forehead atop his, letting out a muffled groan.

zoro's eyes were the size of saucers. he was completely frozen, unaware of what to do. your eyes were still closed and your mouth still covered as you continued to grumble to yourself. it felt like you were saying something but he couldn't think of anything except for the fact that you were so close to him that everything around him had blurred. he did not move a muscle, fearing if he did then the moment would be torn away from him.

it was just you and him right now.

he did not know how he had managed to muster up the guts to do this or what compelled him to do so — he lifted his hand up to your face and gently pulled your hands down. your eyelids flickered open and your mouth was slightly agape. his gaze fell to your rosy lips, dreaming about how soft they looked and how kissable they looked. the things he would do to even get a peck from you. he imagined you'd taste heavenly.

your hands had found its way back to his t-shirt, this time scrunching it up in your grasp. zoro wanted nothing more than to pull you into his embrace. it took a great amount of constraint not to do so though since he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or get upset with him. instead, his index finger carefully brushed over yours, tracing careless circles. it wasn't a grand gesture but he heard you hum at his actions, which suggested that you weren't averse to his advances. that sent him over the moon.

you had pulled yourself back, your face now in front of him. gingerly, you intertwined your fingers with his — his calloused, rough hands were such a stark contrast to your delicate, tender ones. he held onto them as if they were the most precious jewels the world had to offer, unintentionally drawing hearts all over.

he truly could stay like this forever...

"guys! it's time for lunch!", sanji yelled from the kitchen.

the sudden noise caused you both to jump, nearly making you fall off the swing. you stood up, grabbing your book and raced to the stairs. before you scurried up, you turned back to zoro, face completely flushed as you said nervously, "i'll return your t-shirt tonight!". then you dashed to the kitchen, slamming the door behind you.

zoro buried his head in his hands, letting out a miffed moan. "stupid love cook," he grumbled.

[mashtatosworld]

everything i wanted

a happy one

summary: in which the timing is never quite right... but when is it ever?

The news had been weighing on you for days now.

It settled in your bones, in the space between your ribs, heavy and unmoving - something both miraculous and terrifying. You carried it alone, waking with it in the quiet hours before dawn, feeling the enormity of it press against your lungs.

You had always told yourself you would wait until the time was right.

And now, of all times, the universe had decided for you.

Jiyong’s voice filters in from across the apartment, muffled by the sound of rain tapping against the windows. He’s on the phone, pacing, his tone light - excited. You don’t have to ask what it’s about.

"It’s happening." He had told you just last night, eyes shining with something electric. "The world tour, the comeback - the label is ready to announce it tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

By this time tomorrow, he would be standing in front of the cameras, smiling that dazzling, untouchable smile, telling the world he was finally coming back. His dream - the thing he had bled for, sacrificed for - was finally within reach.

And you...

You were about to change everything.

Your fingers gently ran over soft grey fur, petting the purring cat lying contently on your stomach.

"Do you already know?" You asked the furry creature with a bemused smile. She'd been more clingy in recent weeks, always sitting on you instead of her usual perch on Jiyong. "Can you tell him for me?"

"Tell me what?"

He walks into the room, still scrolling through his phone. Even in the dim light, he looks radiant - sharp jawline, delicate features, his presence effortlessly magnetic.

His life has always been so big. So much bigger than this quiet apartment, bigger than this moment.

"Are you feeding her treats without me?" He reached over you to pick Zoa up and hold her like a baby. "Or do you just not like Appa anymore? Hmm?" He asked the calm feline.

You stared at him as he cooed and fussed over your shared pet. He'd always made it clear he wanted children, even before you had started dating.

His fame had made it difficult for him to achieve that, and then after, when he settled down and met you, you weren't ready to give up your career yet - a decision your partner was happy to support. But now he'd chosen to return to the spotlight once again...

"Jagi?" His voice is soft when he looks up at you. Then, his brows furrow slightly. He settles Zoa on the back of the sofa and she runs off, as if sensing her parents need a private moment. Traitor.

"You okay?"

No.

You are standing at the edge of something irreversible.

But there is no right time. There never was.

So you force yourself to inhale, to steady your voice.

"Ji..."

Something in your tone makes him stop completely. His fingers are white as they grip the back of the expensive couch - a low, white wall between you.

"What is it?"

Your throat closes. The words sit heavy on your tongue, too large to force out all at once.

"I'm - " You exhale shakily. "I'm pregnant."

A breath.

A pause.

For a moment, the world outside goes silent - the rain, the distant hum of the city, the weight of time itself.

Jiyong doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His eyes, dark and unreadable, remain locked onto yours.

You brace for anything. A frown, a sigh, the subtle shift of disappointment in his face.

But instead - he just breathes.

"Say it again." His voice is quiet. Unsteady.

You swallow. Your fingers press into your palms, grounding yourself.

"I'm pregnant."

This time, you hear his breath catch. His chest rises - slow, deep, as if trying to take in the moment all at once.

Then, finally, he moves.

Not toward you, but away.

He exhales sharply, turning, running a hand through his freshly dyed hair. You watch his back, your heart tightening with every second that passes.

This was a mistake.

The timing is wrong. You should have waited. Should have given him more time, let him have this moment before burdening him with -

Then, just as the thought grips you, he turns back.

And there, on his face -

Not frustration. Not hesitation.

But something so raw, so unfiltered, that it steals the breath from your lungs.

His eyes shine with something you cannot name.

And when he speaks, his voice is hoarse.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

The word barely leaves your lips before he’s walking around the sofa, reaching for you, hands framing your face so gently, so reverently, as if he’s afraid you might break beneath his touch.

He laughs - a quiet, disbelieving sound, shaking his head. But his eyes betray him, glistening in the dim light, pupils blown wide with something uncontainable.

"Jagi...we're going to have a baby,"

The way he says it - so tenderly - sends something sharp through you.

You nod, pressing your lips together to keep them from trembling. "I know the timing is terrible -"

"Don’t." His hands tighten slightly, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Don’t say that."

Your lashes flutter. "Jiyong - "

"Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?" His voice wavers. "How long I’ve - " He exhales shakily, closing his eyes for a moment, as if trying to steady himself.

Then, his arms are wrapping around you, pulling you against him, holding you as if you might slip away.

"This is everything I’ve ever wanted."

And just like that, the weight in your chest finally lifts.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

i have a sad version of this title in the works 🌝

[andcars]

[ 𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝗧𝗢𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ] Mondays in Monaco

premise. prince of monaco is your boyfriend, congrats! however, trying to be his girlfriend is much more difficult than you expect. struggling what to wear, it's decidedly charles' job to make sure that you're perfect just the way you are.

tags #ㅤlight angst, insecurities, hurt/comfort, praise kink, cunnilingus, no specific use of body shaming but could be implied eitherway wc #ㅤ 1.7k

ㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS OR REQUESTS !

| MASTERLIST⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀MONDAYS IN MONACO

The silk slip dress pools on Charles’ bedroom floor. It's an image of wine red and you're tugging around the waist, seeing how it frames your waist and your thighs. The dress was bought long ago and you haven't even tried it once. Tonight could be the night—or not. 

You eye it critically, tilting your head. Too much? Not enough?  You picture the flashbulbs, the online articles dissecting every thread, every curve.  Monaco is a place without a single privacy. Before you can even leave his apartment, there would be three TikTok accounts on how a woman is seen leaving with Charles. It's going to be on the front page of everything. 

The Prince of Monaco with a commoner.

As the clock signals the next hour, you start to undress. The dress is laid onto the bed as you scour the closet for more clothes—and you never ran out of clothes. Charles has a separate closet just for you, and abundance of clothes you can barely wear. It's something for him than you, he said once. You believe that when there’s unfamiliar fabric inside, all of them were brought here without your knowledge.

A pair of tailored trousers and a cream blouse instead is worn. Then, you discard them just as quickly.  The trousers feel too business-like, the blouse too…plain. Tonight is a special appearance. Wearing pants makes it seem like you're just another woman in Charles’ life. Your head tries its best not to wander on those who came before you.

The glamour. The tanned skin. There’s the jewellery, elegant movements, and the kisses on the cheeks. Everything that you have yet to even give Charles.  You’re not used to this. lifestyle. He is.  He’s used to the red carpets, the flashing lights, the constant hum of attention.  You, on the other hand, feel a strange flutter in your chest, a mix of excitement and something akin to dread. It's the excitement of staking claim and the dread of public opinion.

You tug at the hem of a simple black dress, the one you always feel safe in.  It’s comfortable, and familiar.  But is it enough?  You want to look…effortless.  Like you belong by his side, like you're not trying too hard.  But the effort is monumental. You’ve already spent hours agonising over this, scrolling through endless images of his past lovers, trying to tell what made them look good.  It's not working. Your closet doesn't have any of their outfits, you don't know how they chose their palettes either.

“Fuck!” You sigh, the first words you've muttered since you've debated what to wear. You're at a loss with the straps of the dress loosely hanging around your shoulders. 

It's a knee-length dress, the skirt flowy and the waist tight. You can remember the first time you wore it with Charles—a cold night in Singapore as you watched his race from the hotel. You overlook his performance, always watching. It never mattered how he placed, he looked beautiful when he won and lost. When he came to your side, you were wearing the dress with a smile.

That was simple. There were no cameras inside of the hotel room (you wish so, anyway) and there were no expectations. Tonight, Charles has booked a restaurant for the two of you to have your public date in. For a year and a half, both of you have exchanged secret kisses in the dark. Your schedules almost never aligned and you were just another face who lived in Charles’ building. This was the night that changed. Your dress feels tighter than ever.

“Hey.”

Charles leans against the frame. With an easy grin, he's dressed in an all-white outfit. The style of it casual but with a formal feel with the turtleneck covering his neck. His watch adores his wrist paired with the bracelet you gave him—and your scrunchie. It's placed by his wrist. His heartbeat. Suddenly, you feel silly sitting there just in your underwear. The black dress was just recently taken off.

He approaches, “You can’t be going like this,” he says with a teasing tone, “I don't think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Very funny, Charles,” you reply. “I can't pick what to wear.”

Only then does Charles eye the abundance of clothes on the bed. “They all look great,” he says, sitting beside you “but if you do decide to go out naked, I'm afraid I'll have to just keep you here for myself.”

“Charles,” you didn't mean to bite, his expression falters because of it. “It's just… I don’t know. I just don't know what to fucking wear.”

Silence stirs a little. It sits at your heart and it's eating alive the perfectly nice dinner that both of you could be having right now. The guilt suddenly joins in. Before anything could linger more, Charles tucks a strand of hair behind your ears.

“I remember when we first met,” he mumbles, caressing your cheeks with his thumb, “you were very cute. Asking for my autograph for another fan. It made me think how nice you would be to rely on.

“And then you came back to my life, and again, and again, and again,” he laughs. Charles moves from his seat to go in front of you. Suddenly, he's kneeling in front of you with both your hands in his own. “I love you, I absolutely love you. I don't think that what you look like will change that.”

You know that. “I know that, Charles,” you hiss out, “but you're not the only one seeing me tonight.”

“And?” he laughs. “Baby, I don't care if they see me with a walking trash bag tonight. As long as you are that walking trash bag, then I don't care!”

You're not quite sure how that was supposed to help you. You tell him exactly that and he laughs at that too. “What I mean is,” he kisses your fingers, “I don't care what you look like. What the media sees you as. You are going to be my partner when we go outside and that's enough.”

Maybe it's not enough now. There's still the cold hugging your tired body. When he presses his lips on yours, you have nothing else but to think that this is enough.

Charles' lips move against yours, taking his time. There's the taste of affection, pride, and endearment. You can't imagine how else to interpret the feeling of his mouth on yours. It's like a part of yourself feels fulfilled. You're just hoping that Charles feels just the same as you. With his hands going down, tugging at your underwear, you think that he might be feeling just a little more.

He pulls away, you chase him instinctively. “So pretty,” he tells you, gesturing your hips up as he pulls your panties away. “You're so pretty. No one else can appreciate how beautiful you look just like this—suffocating with my kisses.”

“You're biased,” you gasp after your words, feeling him thumbing at your clit. 

“Am I?” he asks, smiling as he goes down. Fuck.

You feel Charles's strong, slightly calloused hands gripping your thighs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he parts your legs wider. His breath is hot against your sensitive skin, making you shiver with anticipation. "This is all mine,” he sighs before placing his tongue along your slit in a long, slow lick. He savours your flavour, his eyes fluttering closed in bliss. 

A moan escapes you as you feel the wet warm tongue invade your insides. Your legs are pulled apart to give him the access he needs. Just like this, he's on his knees with his mouth worshipping you with more than words. His hands slide up to your ass, kneading the globes and pulling you tighter against his eager mouth. Charles's tongue delves deeper, probing your entrance and fucking into you with a fervour that takes your breath away. Each thrust of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Charles slides a hand up your body to cup your breast, tweaking and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The sudden stimulation has your body jerking. He hums, the vibration sending up towards you. He mutters something unintelligent and you shiver. His tongue continues to explore your inside while his hand expertly works your breasts.

Your clit throbs in time with his licks. It's being rubbed against his nose as he tries to put his face deeper. Below you, the only thing you can hear is his panting and the sloppy noises his mouth makes as he kisses you open. It's dizzying. Your hips move in tandem as you start to chase an orgasm. Charles, knowing you, doesn't change his pace at all.

Two fingers plunge into your channel as his tongue moves in on your clit, suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves. The combined assault has your climax building rapidly, the coil of tension in your belly pulling tighter and tighter. You grind against him, chasing it with moans spilling your mouth uncontrollably. Your fingers tangle with his hair as you clench with your orgasm washing over you.

His fingers pump harder, faster, curling to rub against that secret spot deep inside you. Charles's tongue lashes your entrance, making sure to take all of your spend in his mouth. His pace slows down and you're left with the throbbing feeling of your pussy. The ghost feeling of his mouth on you sticks with arousal. Still, your legs feel too much like jelly to move.

Charles moves up, smiling with his lower face covered in your juices. You blush, “Jesus… your face.”

Your partner still looks like he's a cat who got the cream—horrible comparison, really. “I think I quite like it like this,” Charles pokes his tongue up, chasing the taste of you that's on the edge of his lips. He receives a kick to the chest for the tease. Laugh echoes through the room as the reservation has gone cold, come with it a pizza delivery enjoyed with some Netflix. Maybe this is enough for now.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @bicchaan @fallingforpvris @rtorresblog @Tribbisweetdear @Jamie2305 @yourmommyagone22 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── some slightly more angsty charles fic !!! hope it's still nice because he does eat you out after. i don't need to remind all of ya'll that you all are perfect how you are 🥳 love urself first <3

[octuscle]

Welcome to Red Hook

Leander and Frederick were sure they had reached their destination. Leander had inherited some money and here in Red Hook in Dutchess County they seemed to have found what they were looking for. A small-town idyll, not unreachably far from Manhattan, but still in another world. The old hardware store was perfect for their plans. They could turn the store into a café and the workshop behind it into a Pilates studio. The two of them would bring a bit of civilization to the wasteland. And they could turn Leander's great-uncle's house into a piece of jewelry. Much nicer and bigger than anything they could have afforded in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

The first evening on the veranda was wonderful. Tomorrow they would start clearing out the hardware store and workshop and then they could start renovating. They were full of energy! Frederick came back early in the morning from his run. He had picked up some bread rolls and told them about the gym he had discovered. Until they had their own Pilates studio, there was definitely an alternative way to stay in shape. And if they searched a little more, they would also find a store selling good bitter orange marmalade and decent sparkling mineral water. After all, they weren't in the wilderness. And if need be, there was always the internet.

After breakfast, they went to the hardware store. They wanted to start clearing out. Some of the shelves were already quite thin. But the store was basically still operational. A little dusty, perhaps. But somehow, as if someone had simply closed up shop yesterday and locked up. The doorbell rang. “Hey man, are you open again? I need two rolls of barbed wire.” Leander said he had no idea, but the man knew exactly where to find what he was looking for. Leander looked questioningly when the man wanted to pay. He found a price list. The next customer came into the store. Frederick and Leander had their hands full. But they gained an overview faster and faster. The till wasn't that complicated. Fortunately, the warehouse was tidy. They would just have to order new goods soon if sales continued like this. When Leander finally had a quiet minute, he looked around for Frederick. He was standing at the back of the store talking to a customer who was obviously interested in a chainsaw. And Frederick, who hadn't even been able to hold a hammer properly before, was talking shop as if he had never done anything else before. Frederick chimed in with the customer and the two of them headed towards the till. “So, Steve, what are Kate and the kids doing?” asked Frederick. Leander couldn't believe his ears. Did they know each other? And where from?

The day had been exhausting. But they had made good sales. Frederick swept out the store, Leander checked what needed to be reordered. The two of them were hungry. Shopping and cooking was definitely too strenuous for them now. They hadn't eaten here yet. There was the Brigitte Bistro, but that seemed too fancy for them. They were dirty and sweaty and didn't feel like changing. The diner seemed more suitable. And they would find something vegetarian there.

In fact, it was more difficult than he had thought. Leander ordered a Greek salad with a glass of Pino Grigio. With a slightly pained smile, he looked at Frederick and wondered what he would choose. He ordered the Red Hook Burger with a portion of fries and a Budweiser. Leander no longer understood the world. Not yet. He changed his mind. Also a beer, not a white wine. The beer was delicious. The second one too. Buck and Hunter sat down with them. Frederick talked to them about football as if he'd never done anything else. And even though he had no idea why he was doing it, at some point Leander asked if they wanted a smoke outside. Frederick grinned, took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and said that he had been worried that he would never ask again.

The alarm clock rang at 05:00. Frederick was already awake. Probably running. Leander looked in the fridge. Thank God there were still enough eggs and bacon. He made breakfast and had just finished when Leander pulled into the driveway with the pickup. His sweaty tank top was tucked into the back of his sweat shorts. His upper body was still sweaty from training. He hugged Leander tightly and gave him a deep French kiss. Frederick stank of sweat and Leander got hard. And before they could even eat their scrambled eggs, Frederick fucked Leander on the kitchen table.

Frederick left straight after breakfast, still chewing. Leander tidied up and only then made his way to the store in his van. It was 7 a.m. when he set the neon sign to “we are open”. He could already hear the radio and metal banging from the back of the workshop. Frederick was obviously already at work. Even though they rarely saw each other during the day, it was good to know that the other was always just a few steps away. And when it was quiet for a few minutes, the two of them could smoke a cigarette together. And if the two of them were very ratty, the “Be right back” sign had to be put in the window.

Before they went to the diner to eat and watch football, Lee made Fred at least wash himself with a washcloth. He hadn't showered for two or three days now and was covered in oil from work. Very cool, Lee thought, but a little civilization was a must. And he would be able to use the time to have his beard trimmed. The barber store was about to close, but Pete would make an exception for his fiery red beard.

"Yo, can you believe livin' in the city?" Fred stared at the street, all deep and whatnot. It was a nice, warm summer night. Lee took a swig of beer and burped loud, like a champ. "Not a chance, man!" he shot back. "What the hell for?" "Damn, sometimes I think I should be doin' more than just twistin' my Harleys." "You ain't wrong, but why would you drag me into the city?" The two laughed boomingly. Yes, as the gay couple, they were a bit exotic in Red Hook. But apart from that, they just fit in here. Just a perfect match!

[seokmn]

✎ᝰDEAR DIARY .ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

pairing: jaehyun x gn!reader wc: 1.2k words warnings: mention of reader wearing heels and having period cramps

“you melt me down”

Jaehyun has been your best friend since kindergarten, and your friendship has always been strong.

You never saw Jaehyun as more than a friend, you didn’t even consider him a man. To you he was just… Jaehyun. You kept thinking like that until his older brother’s wedding ceremony and party.

All those boring and annoying jokes about how you two would be such a cute couple made by his family members made something change a little bit in your mind. Followed by how good he looked, how he stole one of the countless pairs of slippers that the guests were supposed to take home way earlier just because your feet were hurting from the heels and how it was a romantic night, you couldn’t help but start to see Jaehyun as something more, as an actual guy. An actual guy that wasn’t that bad, in fact he wasn’t bad at all.

Since that day, you started to look at Jaehyun with other eyes. Your heart would beat faster with any of his caring or gentle attitude towards you that you would usually not even care or think too much about.

No one knew about your new feelings towards Jaehyun. No one but your diary.

Ever since his brother’s wedding, you’d been writing about Jaehyun every night. If it was a person, it would roll its eyes as soon as you wrote down the letter J.

“Y/N, I thought you were already ready! The movie starts at 5PM!” Jaehyun barged into your bedroom – definitely not an unusual action – and looked at you as if you committed a crime. “What are you still doing in your pajamas? Go get dressed!”

You groaned and got up from your bed, leaving the book you were reading open on your bed. “Fine! I’ll go get dressed,” you walked towards your closet, took a pair of jeans, a shirt and a leather jacket, and showed them to him, waiting for his approval. Jaehyun gave you thumbs up and you walked out of the bedroom, heading to the bathroom to change your clothes and fix your hair.

Jaehyun stayed in your room, waiting for you. He took the open book in his hands and took a look at the cover and read the page you were reading before. “Another romance story,” Jaehyun sighed and shook his head. “Poor Y/N, will become a hopeless romantic person. Why are they making it more difficult for me?”

Jaehyun started to look around for a bookmark, but as he was searching for one, he found another book open resting on your study table. However, it wasn’t any book, the word’s font looked a bit strange to Jaehyun, until he noticed that it was your diary.

He wasn’t going to read it, he didn’t even want to touch it, but he read a name and the word “love” written with a red glittery pen and a few hearts around the name and that caught his attention. It was his name.

Did I see it right?

He leaned forward and read it again, feeling bad and guilty for doing that, but the curiosity was stronger than any bad feeling. It really was his name.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jaehyun said, but there was a hint of a smile forming in his lips.

He knew it wasn’t right to read your diary, the object that you put your heart and soul in it. An object that's only yours.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled before starting to read your last entry.

January, 27th.

Dear diary,

I almost screw everything up.

I had pretty bad period cramps during class and even silently cried. No one but Jaehyun noticed, fortunately, the last thing I would want was getting all my classmates’ and teacher’s attention.

Jaehyun gave me his sweater so I could get warmer and lessen the pain. Didn’t help, but it was the best thing he could’ve done at the moment.

What seemed to lessen the pain (I know it’s not physically possible, give me a break, okay?!) was the sight of him secretly texting his brother’s wife asking her what he could do to help me out with the period cramps.

During lunch break he disappeared for minutes, and then came back with some of my favorite snacks, a heating pad and painkillers. I was impressed. I got even more impressed by the way he was treating me. He never treated me poorly, but I never saw him so worried.

I kept asking him where did all of that come from and he said he asked help from his brother’s wife, she gave him some tips and he asked her to bring those things to me. That’s when I almost screwed up.

I almost told Jaehyun that I love him! I started saying “I…” then I stopped, stared at him and said that I think he’s the best.

My heart was beating so fast I thought I was going to throw it up. That was too much for me.

I wish he was my boyfriend. I’ve always heard my friends telling some awful things her boyfriends said or did to them, but if Jaehyun was my boyfriend I know that I wouldn’t have any problems with that.

People always talk about how love and relationships are so difficult, but loving him isn’t hard at all. It’s quite the opposite, it’s easier than breathing, it’s safer than a bunker.

I guess I’m lucky to be in love with my best friend and not with some random guy who I know almost nothing about. I know basically every Jaehyun’s secrets, I know everything he likes and dislikes, I even know how he’s going to react about something that didn’t even happen. That’s how much I know about Jaehyun, and I know he knows about me that much as well.

I hope one day I have the courage to tell him about my feelings without the fear of ruining our friendship. It sucks to not know what he feels towards me, but I wish he has at least a little crush on me.

Tomorrow we will watch a movie and go to a pizzeria after his band practice. I hope everything goes smoothly and we have a great time. I also hope he wears that grey hoodie, he looks good on it.

Wish me luck, Diary.

Jaehyun didn’t know if he should gasp, smile, jump around your room or shout from happiness, but at the end all he did was sit back on your bed and pretend to be reading the earlier book because he heard your footsteps approaching the bedroom.

“I’m ready, and what are you doing with my book?”

Jaehyun clicked his tongue, folded the corner of the page and closed the book before standing up and looking at you, trying his best to not smile at your cute face and at the thought of you liking him in secret. “These books will be the death of you. Did you know there are many other book genres to read?”

“Shut up, I like romance.”

He placed his arm around your shoulder and started to walk with you towards the front door of your house, the closeness between you two made your eyes widen and you swallow hard. “One day, someone will love you and treat you better than any of those little characters love and treat the protagonist. Maybe sooner than you expect.”

“What?! What are you talking about?”

“Shhh. Let’s go, the movie waits for us.”

[pussyydestroyer]

“The echo of the past”

Pairing: Ghostface Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Warning: +18, masturbation, fingering, oral, scissoring, stranger, fear, rudeness, Sam doesn't care, they are both horny

Word count: 6k+

The day had been extremely exhausting for you. Your boss, as always, sent you to do things that were not your responsibility at work. He took advantage of you for being young and inexperienced.

You went to college in the morning and in the afternoons you worked to earn a mediocre salary. An exhausting routine, but you brought it on yourself because you wanted to become independent so young and want to leave your city as soon as possible.

But you were finally in your small house that your aunt had rented to you at an accessible price some time ago.

It was a reasonable size. Cozy and had just the right amount of space for your daily needs as a young adult.

You had a lot of stress built up from having to put up with your asshole boss giving you orders incessantly, along with your teachers who talked constantly without stopping.

And there was no better way to get it off than with your own hands.

Slide the zipper of your pants so you could take them off a few seconds later. The cold air on the thighs made your skin crawl.

You closed the eyes so you could think of something that would help you warm up and move on.

You didn't like watching porn, you found it disgusting and totally fake, which is why it didn't turn you on.

All your mind kept wandering and thinking, making your body get hotter. And as if by magic, your hand slowly moved from the chest and down to your abdomen.

Felt the beginning of your underwear and without thinking about it any longer, you dipped your hand underneath it.

The wetness between your legs was evident as your thoughts acted wildly.

You shivered slightly as your finger brushed down your swollen clit.

The coldness of the room seemed to fade from your senses as the fingers ran up and down your already wet folds.

Your thoughts and memories of today disappear from your mind as the hips rose in response to your finger sliding inside you, causing a shaky exhale.

You could feel the thoughts becoming more vivid as your hand found the right rhythm, making you gasp.

The thumb rose slightly, finding its way to your clit, while your free hand grabbed your shirt and brought it to your mouth, exposing your breasts.

It was already customary for you to always take off your bra as soon as you stepped into the entrance of your house. Having it on all day was a bit uncomfortable and suffocating.

Your hand ran over your body with delicate movements, making you arch your back while your other hand worked wonders on your crotch.

You would occasionally massage or squeeze your breasts, and together with your mouth that muffled the moans from biting the shirt, it made it difficult to pay attention to anything other than your need to satisfy yourself.

The thumb circling your clit, your fingers entering and exiting you in a determined manner.

All of this was being very satisfying until the sound of something hitting the window made you stop abruptly.

You opened the eyes and looked towards the window next to you, feeling somewhat bewildered and disoriented.

You didn't give it much thought since the branches of the trees were always hitting it constantly or the baby pigeon that is learning to fly crashed roughly.

So you settled down to could continue fingering until the phone started to ring.

With frustration you grabbed your phone that was on the table next to you and saw who it was, an unknown number.

You huffed roughly before hanging up without thinking twice.

Most likely it was phone lines calling for you to hire them or it was the university charging for overdue tuition.

But before you could put the phone back on the table, it rang again.

It was the same number.

You muttered several insults and then cleared your throat and answered,

“Hello?” Your lack of motivation and disinterest in speaking was noticeable as you wiped your hand that was on your crotch earlier against the sheets.

There was a brief silence before the person on the other line answered “Congratulations, you have been selected as one of the winners in this prize wheel!”

Silence filled the room for a long moment, bewildered by how stupid this call was. “What?”

His voice could be described as that of a very high-pitched young man, possibly just coming out of puberty which irritated you even more.

“As you heard! You just have to answer a few questions to be able to access your prize!”

The positivity and joy of that kiddo was exhausting and frustrating to listen to.

If the day couldn’t get any worse, this clearly ruined it. The last thing you wanted to know was that you had won in a clear scam.

A normal person would have hung up immediately, but since you were stubborn, you didn’t. “Questions? What kind of shitty questions?” You said reluctantly and angrily.

But before you could finish speaking, the other person interrupted you. “What is your favorite scary movie?”

The voice abruptly changes to a deeper, more serious one with a slight distortion, but you ignore it, thinking it was your lousy internet’s fault.

“I don’t know. 500 days of summer?” You reply with frustrated sarcasm, bringing your fingers to your temple.

“That’s not a horror movie…” His voice was piercing and thicker as you paid more attention to it as it transformed into a more menacing one. “I’ll give you one last chance. What is your favorite scary movie, Y/n?”

Swallow heavily as your eyes widen in shock and disbelief before answering. How did this guy know your name?

You think of all the possibilities he could have gotten away with. He probably knows your address too.

“This has to be a fucking bad joke. I have better things to do than to be wasting my time on this shit. Bye.”

You didn’t even have time to take the phone away from your ear when he interrupts again.

“Don’t you dare hang up or I’ll slit your throat right now!” his voice rises higher.

All of your arrogant facade disappeared as you heard him yell. You were scared shitless now.

The person on the other end chuckles making you shiver “are you going out somewhere or are you still going to play yourself like a guitar?” He continues with his voice full of venom.

The phone bounced off the bed as you let go of it to sit up properly. Your pulse was racing at the revelation that he was clearly spying on you.

Looking around as the silence in the house was deafening making you even more scared.

Neither of you broke it. You trying to stay calm and process this. The other just enjoying watching you lose your composure.

“Don’t play with me like that you fucking pervert. Where are you?!” You tried to regain your courage, though your voice was shaking as you scanned every part of your room.

He chuckle again in his thick voice, making you shiver and sigh. “You want to know where I am? Well then. Come find me.”

The beep that sounded after he hung up made you break out in a cold sweat. Your body was frozen and you refused to move.

You wanted to keep holding on to the idea that it was a prank call, until you gasped when you heard footsteps in the distance.

The floors were made of wood, so anything that fell or someone stepped too hard, made them squeak.

You could feel your heartbeat pounding through your ears. You wanted to stay where you were, but you knew that if you stayed there for too long, something serious would happen to you.

With slow and clumsy movements, you sat on the edge of the bed while you held your phone tightly in your hand.

You looked around before letting out a heavy sigh and standing up so you could put on your pajama shorts. Something in you told you that you should play their little game, even though you knew that one way or another you would die.

You take short, delicate steps so as not to make any sound until you reach the entrance to your room.

The door was already open since you always left it that way, but seeing the darkness on the other side was like living in a horror movie, but one with a very low budget.

You look around with subtle movement, making sure there was nothing in sight so you could call the police.

The light switch was a few steps away from you, but you were too scared to go there and turn on the lights. So, you shine the light of your cell phone around the place, making sure everything was clear before making a call.

But before you could press the first digit, a message from the same number pops up in your notifications.

‘If you continue, consider yourself dead. ’

His voice echoed in your mind, leaving you completely paralyzed and shaking with fear.

You see that message for a short time that seemed like hours until it disappears from your sight. You didn't want to open his chat, you just wanted to get out of there and go somewhere else, but you knew perfectly well that you had nowhere to go.

It never crossed your mind that becoming independent in a place far away from all the people you knew since you were born would lead you to be stranded with a murderer in your own house without knowing what to do.

The chances of this happening were few, but never zero.

With a shaky sigh, you squeeze your phone in your hand and start walking, crossing the hallway to get to the stairs.

You try to control your breathing because you feel that it is too fast and it sounds too loud, but it is inevitable to hold it when you know that you are risking your life.

When you reach the stairs you hold on to the railing as if it were your life support, you put a foot on the first step and you curse yourself internally, pressing your lips together when it creaks.

Your eyes were firmly closed as you began to descend. Each step you went down creaked louder and in a different tone, causing a small gasp from you when you noticed it.

You weren’t even halfway up the stairs when the phone rang again, biting your bottom lip to stifle your sobs.

The movements were clumsy and shaky as you looked back at the phone. You didn’t want to answer it, but your life was at risk right now.

You slid it before hesitantly placing it against your ear, biting the inside of your cheek to keep any sound of surrender from escaping.

“Cold.” His voice filled with menace and mockery penetrated your ears making it hard for you to breathe.

A lump formed in the throat, feeling like you couldn’t speak, but you managed to do so anyway. “What?”

The shaky and vulnerable voice made the other person laugh causing you to sob in panic.

“You’re not even close…” you could feel the sick mania in his entire being “but I can see you”

Shallow breaths came out as you tried to maintain the little composure you had left, while blinking to keep from shedding any tears.

You took a moment to clear your adrenaline-fueled thoughts before taking another step down.

The switch was at the beginning of the stairs on the first floor, which meant you were a few steps away from reaching it so you could better see your car keys and be able to leave the place as soon as possible.

The call was still online while you heard his laughter as you continued down.

The worst of all was that, although the house was somewhat small, you couldn’t hear the distortion that phones produce when they are very close to each other, which meant you couldn’t have an idea of where he would be.

You take the final step, managing to reach the first floor completely, and you run your hand along the wall until you feel something bulging.

“That’s it. You're warm now" his praising voice makes a shiver run down your spine.

You freeze, not wanting to know what was coming next, but your hands betray you by moving to press the switch.

The lights turn on, illuminating the living room with warm tones. The atmosphere could be cozy as it normally was, just for the small detail that you catch a black presence out of the corner of your eye.

Slowly turning your head to get a better look at the other being in the other corner of the room, you quickly examine him and see that he is wearing a black robe and an elongated white mask, which makes your mind click.

It was the ghostface.

You had heard a few years ago the news about killers who dressed like that to kill, but it was irrelevant to you since your friends always dressed like that for Halloween with the purpose of scaring other people.

It wasn't a big deal to you back then, though you were very attracted to some of those killers that were shown in the news reports, but saying that you found a serial killer attractive was socially frowned upon. So you kept it to yourself.

But having him in front of you now, even if it was just a few steps away, was fucking terrifying and it didn't compare to anything your friends had used before or your teenage thoughts.

Your eyes didn't leave the other's movements as the masked one grabbed a device you didn't know about and raised it until it was close to his mouth. "hot"

Swallowed hard as you saw him tilt his head before he turned off the lights again, losing sight of him instantly.

You cursed yourself in a shaky, pleading whisper at the fact that he had found the other switch.

The curtains were closed, which meant that there was no trace of light into the house and that made things more difficult.

You knew perfectly well that he wanted you to follow him, to find him so that you both would be as close as possible and he would end your life. But you weren't going to give him that pleasure.

Taking a deep breath trying to stabilize yourself, but it was impossible to do so if you heard silent creaks approaching you.

Your body trembled and sweated as you took steps forward. You wanted to avoid him at all costs.

If you continued straight you could reach the front door and escape, but first you would have to go around some armchairs to grab the car keys.

You took some time to mentally prepare yourself for how risky your next moves could be, but there was no other way.

Continued with the slow and determined steps as you headed to the side of the couch. You knew he was on the other side and could see and feel your movements, but you had to pick up the keys that were on the table a few inches from you.

“You are so hot right now”

This was a trap. You bite your lip to stifle your sobs as you look around desperately to recognize where the saturated voice was coming from.

In an act of desperation and stress, you hang up the phone and throw it against the couch, making it bounce before you can grab the car keys that were right next to you.

But you should never declare victory too soon.

“Surprise” his voice is heard so close to you as you turn to see him when he turns on the other lamp that is next to the other personal chair in front of you.

Your blood immediately runs cold as soon as you see him with his knife in his hand. You drove yourself to your own death.

He tightens his grip on his knife as he heads towards you with slow, firm steps.

You stand tense, completely paralyzed without knowing what to do. If you moved, he would quicken his pace and kill you faster, but if you stayed still, he would do that too. So many options and they all led to the same destination.

The sighs and sobs coming from you were the only thing that could be heard in the room. You keep the eyes tightly closed so you don't see how close he is to you.

You groan as you back away and stumble into the chair he forced you to sit on when you hear the footsteps closer to you.

Sweat runs down your forehead and you shiver as you feel a rough hand touch your chin, forcing you to lift your head.

You don't protest. The terror running through your veins was too much to contradict him, so you lift it with a weak, shaky movement as you open your eyes.

You give him a quick glance and notice that he doesn't have the knife or the circular device in his free hand, which makes you frown slightly in doubt.

He tilts his head and chuckles again, enjoying the way you gasp and shake when he does.

Your fear mixes with curiosity when you hear him laugh and notice that his real voice is a little higher than you expected.

Gently, he removes his hand from your chin to take off the leather glove with the other and then holds your chin up again.

It was a thin hand with long, thin fingers. His touch was soft and warm, leaving you totally with doubt by the delicate way he touched you.

A few minutes ago he was threatening to take your life, and now he was being silky with you. It was all very strange, but you weren't going to complain now that you had him literally in front of you.

His thumb began to trace circles on your cheekbone, making you tremble.

You didn't know if your involuntary reactions were due to fear or because you were enjoying feeling his delicate touch against your skin.

He seemed to enjoy it in the way he let out a quick exhale.

His finger moved down, just below your bottom lip.

You were trying to figure out what his purpose was if he wasn't going to kill you, until he started to draw a slow, straight line across it.

You could feel his piercing gaze through that mask. Even though it scared you, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

As if the other person was asking for it, you licked your lips before opening your mouth a little more and leaning forward to catch his thumb.

The tremble you caused him to feel was hard to miss.

You looked down at his arm to then see the mask. You tried to see who could be behind those black eyes, but it was impossible to notice anyone there.

You curled your tongue around his finger, and your wetness made him shiver.

Flattening your tongue, you moved up from below to the tip of his thumb as you hummed on purpose.

His breathing was heavy, as if he was holding back his gasps.

Your eyes never left his mask as you took him back into your mouth.

You noticed he was enjoying it in the way his fingers dug into your jaw as he tensed up.

Sucked on him so hard that your cheeks sank, eliciting a soft, low whimper from him.

Notice his sounds are delicate and sharp again, and you look at him with a frown, having a slight suspicion that the person behind the mask was not a man but a woman.

The other person tilts the head in doubt at the way you look at them.

You lower your gaze, even with their finger in your mouth, to look at they crotch. But there's nothing there.

They evil robotic laugh snaps you out of your thoughts, but you still keep looking at they crotch trying to see a bulge or something, but nothing. “There’s nothing there that you like.”

Through all that deep, distorted laughter you can hear a female voice behind it all, which makes your heart skip a beat.

She pulled her thumb out of your mouth when she noticed you were more excited and determined about what was to come.

Her thumb moved tracing a line from your lip to the chin, then finding your neck and grabbing it, pushing you back so you were completely against the couch.

You let out a moan at the sudden act, and found yourself grabbing her hip in a way to hold on to something.

Your breathing was labored and you felt yourself getting hotter and hotter from the way she held you. Her pressure wasn’t painful, but it was still strong.

Without taking your eyes off her, you run your hand down her waist, but she doesn’t seem to complain, until you reach her crotch applying a slight force which makes her gasp and move her hips against you.

“See? “Nothing,” she whimpers as her grip tightens on your neck, making you moan.

Her breathless voice was the last thing that made you give in to whatever she wanted from this moment on, completely forgetting the fact that you were on the verge of crying or panicking a moment ago.

Despite all that distortion and depth in that fictional voice, the female voice still echoed in your head. You swore you heard it somewhere else, but you were too determined to get into lust to think of where you could have heard it from before.

With an impatient movement, you lean forward and lift her tunic to reveal her waist. Your eyes quickly find the belt and your free hand unbuckles it with ease, almost as if you were experienced.

The sound of leather hitting metal abruptly was deafening and overwhelming.

You assume her gaze is fixed on your movements as you pull down the zipper. You put your thumb inside the edge of her pants to begin to pull them down little by little, while your other hand continues to hold the tunic by her stomach so as not to interfere with your movements.

With her pants already around her ankles, you notice that her underwear is already quite wet, which makes you wonder how long she had been like this.

You swallow, leaving those thoughts behind.

Briefly raise your gaze to look at her, while your hand reaches her crotch, putting pressure on it, managing to get a moan out of her as her grip on your hair tightens.

Hadn't noticed that she had placed her hand on you, causing you to gasp at the sudden contact.

You felt the wetness immediately on your hand, biting the inside of your cheek, not wanting to let out another sound.

Her hips jerk against your hand. She wanted more friction and you knew it perfectly.

Not think twice and pull her underwear down completely exposing her pussy.

She gasps again feeling you so close to her skin now.

You run two fingers through her folds causing her to drop her head back down with a sharp, shaky exhale.

You press your lips together realizing that her sounds are affecting you the same way your movements are affecting her.

You continue to rub her folds, feeling that she is shaking more than usual.

She needs you in every way possible.

She grabs your hair tightly and pulls it back. You moan at the grip that forced you to look at her.

You nodded frantically, understanding her need.

Your fingers trail up her folds one last time before going back down, applying a little more pressure until you reach her wet slit.

With a low growl, she leans forward, holding on to the couch firmly with one hand, sensing you about to enter.

You move your fingers up, entering her with ease thanks to her growing wetness, drawing a groan from her along with a tight grip on your already messy hair.

Your fingers continue to enter deeper, and her breathing become more frantic hitting the mask.

Her voice was so beautiful that it resonated in your mind despite not having heard it verbally.

When your fingers no longer seemed to be visible to the naked eye, your thumb pressed against her clit, briefly moving it up, managing to make you shudder at the way she moaned that you will continue.

A shaky “yeah” escaped your lips as your fingers began to pull out and push deeper inside her.

Her moans grew louder with each thrust you gave, and you were completely lost in the way her unfiltered voice sounded.

Your own wetness began to seep through the thin fabric of your shorts as your thumb matched the steady rhythm of your other fingers.

You couldn’t stand just listening to her. You wanted to see her, to feel her deeper.

You abruptly pulled your fingers out of her, leaving her stunned and reeling. But before she could complain or yank on your hair, your fingers dug into her bare waist as you looked at her with a sly smile.

“Maybe there’s something I like after all,” your hot breath against her skin made her shiver before you moved in completely and licked at her clit.

An intangible curse escaped her lips with this light contact. Her hips rock against your face and you try to hold on tight so you can continue.

You flatten your tongue to explore more of her sensitivity. But she always wanted more.

With a quick movement, she lifts her leg and flexes it on the couch, right next to you, opening herself more to you.

A gasp catches in your throat at the sudden movement. You look at her for a few seconds once you return to continue licking her.

Now having more accessibility to her, your tongue moves frantically through her folds.

Her moans are getting louder as she holds your head to not let you go.

Gasps leave your lips against her pussy with each lick you give. Closing your eyes slowly so you can concentrate on your movements as you get closer to her entrance.

The movements of your head were determined and little by little her voice was clearer, more tangible to you.

She continues to tremble and moves against you. His grip is strong, almost painful, but you loved it.

Those moans, that unique and beautiful voice you could recognize from somewhere else, though you didn't know where. But that ragged gasp, like he was losing his breath made you realize who it was.

“Sam?!” Your voice of genuine surprise crashes against her skin as you raise your head again, suddenly stopping all the pleasurable movements.

Of all the people who could be behind the mask, Sam was one of your last options of who it could be.

You hadn’t seen her since… over a year ago? You didn’t remember exactly, but her calling you threatening to kill you in a very stupid voice so that you could end up having sex, is a very strange and unexpected reunion.

Her body, as well as yours, was equally agitated by the abrupt change of contact.

Your eyes met, and the only thing that broke the silence was the heavy breathing.

You tried to figure out what was going through her mind, since neither of you dared to break the silence. You were pretty sure it was Sam.

As if it were the blink of an eye, she grabs her knife tied to her hip and stabs it into the back of the chair, very close to your head.

You didn’t have time to react, just your nails digging into her hips.

She grabs your jaw and pushes you back, lifting you roughly so you look directly at her.

“Don’t say that again, you hear me?” She hisses, her voice mixed with venom and desire.

You nod frantically as you swallow hard at her demanding tone. “Alright. I won’t.”

“Good.”

The low, husky way she said it made your need grow along with the wetness between your legs.

She quickly puts her hands on your thighs and squeezes them hard, making you moan before she roughly grabs you and pushes you to the side, sliding you down the couch so you’re now completely lying on it.

You just stare at her as she completely takes off her pants.

When you wanted to leave your parents' house behind, you were traveling from city to city to experience new things and get out of the routine you had before. That's where you met Sam in Modesto.

She worked at the gas station across from the restaurant you work at as a waitress.

While you were taking the order of one of the many diners, you saw her enter with slow steps. She seemed very tired that day.

She was heading to the front desk, but there was no one there to serve her. Luckily for you, you had just finished taking the table's orders, so you headed to the front desk to see what is offered to her, even though that wasn't your specialty.

You cordially introduced yourself and she did the same.

Both of you talked for a few minutes until she finally said she was coming to get a takeout order. You went to the kitchen and quickly came back with a paper bag in your hands.

She asked you where you were from, since she had lived in the city for some time and had never seen you. You told her your reasons and she seemed to understand the situation.

Both continued talking for a while until she had to leave. Without first telling you that she worked right across the street.

Your first impression of her pleased you, she seemed like someone kind and fun.

As the days went by, you started talking more and more, although she was still reserved about some topics.

Sometimes in your free time, you would stop by the gas station just to waste time and talk to her. Sam did the same when he didn't have many customers to serve.

A few months passed and you started having feelings for her, and somehow you became very close.

Everything about her seemed charming and attractive to you. The way her hair moved against the wind, her smile, her voice, her hands, everything.

Until, at the worst of times, you found out that she had a boyfriend.

You didn't like him. He was lazy when it came to his work and ridiculously clumsy and conceited.

But if that was Sam's taste in men, you weren't one to judge him publicly.

You started to become more distant with her because of that. You didn't want to get hurt because of your feelings.

It wasn't romantic attraction, it was simply admiration, or that's what you tried to convince yourself.

As usual, things were boring again around you. Being with Sam of course wasn't, but you didn't feel the excitement of working every day anymore. So one day you left without saying goodbye or leaving a trace.

You never heard from her again since you never shared numbers or social media. That was the fun of being with her, not having to harass each other with daily messages or stalking each other. Just spending the day talking about whatever, even if it was just a few hours, was great.

Over time, your attraction to her was fading. You weren't constantly thinking about her anymore. In fact, you hadn't thought about her in a long time.

Until now.

She grabs the sides of your shorts pulling them down hungrily, exposing your delicate, wet cunt.

You were both agitated and eager for more, so just letting her do everything.

She grabs your knees and pushes them to the ends of the couch, causing one of them to rub against the newly stuck knife.

You can't hold back the shaky gasps once you see her get on top of you, followed by a moan as you feel her full weight against your body.

The sensation of cunt against cunt was deliciously stimulating once their hips collided, causing both of you to gasp.

Feeling her wet pussy against yours was driving you crazy, but you somehow managed to lift one leg and place it on top of her bent leg next to your hip.

Her grunt along with your moan was a noticeable clue about your dripping slits hitting each other, but still neither of both moved yet.

She adjusted herself by put her other leg across your hip, on top of your outstretched leg.

Maybe the version of Sam you knew a year ago wasn't the real one. Whatever it was, you liked either one.

She grabs your thigh, digging her nails into you, making you groan.

Your nails automatically dug into her own thigh and waist as you grabbed her to hold on.

The gasps of both of you mix in the air as you feel each other.

Raising your gaze, you look at her with pleading, dark eyes, not knowing what features she could have at this moment.

As if she were reading your mind, she begins to rock on your hips slowly and painfully.

You grab her waist tighter, trying to pull her towards you. The little friction was killing you.

“Sam, please,” Your own voice showing how needy you were. You raise your hand, wanting to remove that hideous mask from her face that somehow managed to turn you on.

Sam being faster, grabs your wrist when you barely manage to touch the resistant plastic. “What did I just say to you?”

She sounded so firm, so drowned in the same desire as you that you just stayed quiet and looked away.

With just that act of vulnerability, she began to move her hips again, guiding your hand to her shoulder.

You held on tightly every time she slid her pussy against yours.

Instantly the moans and labored breathing resumed their course. Both of you firmly holding on to each other.

You saw how her body moved up and down, which meant that her pussy slipped more easily.

Your whole body was on fire, and hearing her moans stimulated you even more.

You grabbed her hips with both hands, helping her increase the speed.

She didn't scold you for that, she simply let you guide her.

Your hands and her hips moved simultaneously causing your back to arch against her.

The movements became faster and more erratic that splashes could be heard.

She was practically hugging your leg, turning her moans into mumbled curses.

Her cum was dripping everywhere, dripping down your ass, becoming excitingly sticky.

She braced herself with her free hand on your chest, not wanting to show weakness to you

Between all those moans and gasps your head fell back, feeling the heat build up in your belly, but you didn't want her to stop.

You both moved your hips in sync against each other, generating more of that exquisite friction that increased that pressure.

Your clitorises rubbed together easily. The sweat mixing between your legs made it easier to move, which generated more pleasure along with the heat of your bodies.

“I'm so close Sam”

Sam's hand slides down your neck, forcing her to lean in closer to you. “Shut up”

The aggressiveness of her words that came out as muffled moans brought you closer to the edge of your climax.

She kept panting and you could feel her body tense up.

“Fuck” she moans before bringing a hand to her mask and taking it off to throw it somewhere in the room.

Her totally messy hair along with the sweat on her reddened face was extremely exciting.

You wanted to keep looking at her face, but she gave one last thrust with her pussy that managed to make you come.

Arching your back and throwing your head back, away from her face to receive the climax.

Even though you had finished, she kept rubbing her cunt against yours. She was so close to her own climax that she didn't waste any moment of your weakness.

Her moans became higher pitched and her grip on your neck was strong.

You kept guiding her hips, wanting her to be just as satisfied as you.

Feeling her clit rubbed in a rough and desperate way was the only thing missing for her to came with a groaning groan.

Her whole body tensed up giving that final push.

You gasp happily at the feel of all her cum in your pussy when she finally finishes.

Her breathing was fast and erratic as her face was so close to yours.

It took her a few seconds to compose herself. You watched as a satisfied smile formed on her lips as she untangled her legs and sat comfortably on the couch.

You were still lying down with your breathing slowly returning to normal.

She leaned her head back against the backrest as she let out a final sigh.

You continued to watch her silently, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the place, but you felt forced to do so. “What the hell was that all about?”

She chuckle without looking at you yet and playfully hits your leg. “Yeah. I missed you too.”

I thought I was going to do less but I got carried away

[spinji]

to me Bakugo always seemed like one of those genius kids that were constantly praised for this one thing he excelled at(his quirk) that he didn't really have anything else besides that. It gave him an inferiority complex. And when he went to ua, it's like when those gifted kids go go to a school where they're are tons of lifted kids just like him all starting at same place. He realizes he's not the best anymore. In fact he starts to fall a little behind(which is normal) and that hits him hard because who else is he if he's not the best.

With no exaggeration that is exactly it.

That is the entire basis for his early character development before it becomes even more ridiculously intertwined with Izuku. His entire beef with Todoroki comes from feeling upstaged by him and then never getting an opportunity to properly one-up him because Shoto pulled his punch at the sports festival. It's why he was so SO fucking upset at the award ceremony even though he got first place.

And the thing is; he keeps losing these personal goals for himself time and again until the exact moment he stops treating his classmates as people to compete against rather than people to collaborate with. You take away all the Izuku-specific issues and his struggle with the death of his ego and trying to ward of imposter syndrome is extremely relatable, especially if you were one of those high performing kids who now cringes at how much they used to flaunt their own skills or intelligence.

Personally, I think Izuku has the other end of the gifted child problems spectrum. He wasn't openly praised to the point of swelling his ego but he's clearly very smart. I like to think he was a very independent worker when he was young which only made him not learn how to ask for help when things are difficult.

It's not a point of pride, he just genuinely doesn't consider outside help as a factor because he hasn't needed it yet (he did and his grades suffered a bit as a result and maybe that got tied up in his self esteem a little but hey he's still passing). It's a bit of personal projection but I think the contradiction between the emphasis on his intelligence from a character perspective and how actually middling/inconsistent his grades are when you actually look at what the narrative says makes sense in that context.

Whenever they show him studying he always looks like he's struggling to some degree, his expression very tense and hunched over his desk for hours to make sure he understands what he's doing. He was smart enough to guesstimate his entrance exam score but his estimate was that he barely passed. That one innocuous scene of him very confidently answering a math question wrong. Combine that with the fact that learning to ask for support in other areas is a major part of his character growth and idk the vibe just really fits.

[lilyofporcelain]

DWC - 09 Feb - Day 1 - Hypnotic / Star

In the quiet of the Grim and Tonic apothecary, she carefully peered around the various potions, elixirs, tinctures, and other concoctions that Saith so masterfully made. He labelled everything, of course, which didn’t surprise her in the least. How many of these things had been made for others, and how many had he made for personal projects? Rows and rows of bottles and vials sat before her, each in its own perfect little setting. One wrong idle move from her or Toasty having a sudden case of the zoomies, and she could just envision the domino effect of shattered glass and hissing liquids on wooden floor.

A smile hooked its way into half of her mouth as sher head tipped, hair not quite violet curling over her collar. And she’d worried about taking too much of his time away from his work. Or that he would grow bored and listless with her companionship. It was good to see that he kept himself busy. Saith’s background as an informant had controlled so much of him. Belidrae still worried that suddenly trying to acclimate to a life where he no longer had to do that would too much for him. She’d tried to be supportive of him and ultimately, the story was always the same. She only wanted him to be happy. To feel like he was significant. To know that he mattered and that he was important. For things other than his body or dust or thistle.

Are you happy, Saith, with the way things are? This relationship with me. Is it what you really want? Our engagement? I’d be all right if you changed your mind.

Would she, though? Belidrae didn’t think so in entirety. But if things went topsy turvy, which was entirely possible, she knew she’d find a way through it. She always had. In the end, all that really mattered to her was that he found what he was looking for. What he felt like he needed. She knew very well it just wasn’t healthy if he was using her as a form of escapism. She hoped it wasn’t that. If it was, the conversation would be a difficult one to have.

She could hear the soft, raspy ‘miaow’ that came from the siamese kitten who nonchalantly wandered in. Straightening herself up, Belidrae turned her attention onto… Well. She still didn’t know if Toasty was a boy or a girl. Trix had not told her when he gave the kitten to Belidrae on a chilly Winterveil day. Sweeping the kitten up carefully into her arms, she lifted a hand and gently prodded the curious kitten on the nose. “Aren’t you a curious thing,” she greeted her feline friend, a wide smile pulling at her face. “Wanted to come see what Mom was up to, hm? I don’t think your dad would want you in here, but we’ll keep it our little secret.”

Turning her attention back to the rows and rows and rows of Saith’s creations, Belidrae slowly moved down along the shelf and then she paused. There was one he’d been working on specifically for her. More than one, actually. She didn’t know where he’d even gotten the idea for it, but suspected it had something to do with the shade of her skin, something he’d always described as dusky. When he’d first told her about it, he’d described it as a concoction that when ingested would make it look as though constellations spread across her skin.

Belidrae had always liked a starry night sky. Plenty of them she’d spent her time under, even. Did he know she liked them? Had it just been a guess on his part? Leaning closer in to the bottle on display, its label in Saith’s rather picturesque handwriting, she smiled.

“You know, Toasty, you didn’t get to see this, but he made one for me before.”

Her expression was fond. On the night they’d met when he was certain she was divining tea leaves in her coffee, he’d taken her to a beautiful overgrown area with a waterfall and crumbling stone. And there, they’d spoken the entire night. And he’d been convinced that she was an agent of SI:7, something that continued to regularly amuse her. She’d not known it at the time, but his reasoning had been sound. She really was like an informant in her own way. Connections with people, believing those connections were important. Except she’d never been in it for the information. Sure, she’d heard things that otherwise loose lips wouldn’t have freed, but…

Shaking her head, Belidrae freed a sigh, gently squeezing Toasty to her. Saith had taken her back up there. Or rather, she’d taken him.

“It’s where I go when I need a moment’s peace.” She’d told him. “It’s where I go when I need time to think.” And it was as much one of her favourite places to be as the lamppost outside of the city or the river where they had washed Woogle’s clothes together beneath a moonlit sky.

The night she took him up there again, he’d finally completed his constellation potion. Or, rather, what was likely the first version of it. Warned her it tasted horrible. Said it wouldn’t be immediate. She’d grimaced like a child taking medicine that would surely do more good than the taste it left on the tongue. They whittled the time and got lost in conversation. A home in Suramar. His home in Hillsbrad. Futuristic talks of where they saw one another. A seductive dance of words. And she had finished something she started long before then in the Wetlands.

And then she’d glowed just like a night sky glittered with diamonds. Belidrae remembered it all so clearly. In the same way all of her memories of Saith were vivid. Moments in time that were suspended for her occasional perusal. Lightly scratching behind Toasty’s ear, she found herself taken back to those moments that she revisited with frequency. She’d asked him if he could make her something permanent that did the same thing. That she might already have constellations etched into her skin. He’d said it was possible, but as with all of his alchemical things, it was a process.

“How far have you gotten, thas’dorah?”

Looking down to Toasty, she offered a sly smile. “We should probably stop poking around his things, hm?” Although he’d known she was going to. In the city’s tavern, she’d asked him if she could. Her newest garment collection would incorporate all of the different things he’d made. She’d wanted to bring as much attention to his works as she could bring a similar attention to her own.

Making way back for the doorway, she closed it after herself and only after she’d set a rather befuddled Toasty on the ground, Belidrae rested her back to the door. How was she going to emulate the constellations? Imbued cloth, maybe. She’d been able to do it with the fabric that shuddered in light during her testing. But a constellation replica was going to be so much more difficult. Saith wouldn’t have an answer either. He’d admitted rather easily that he knew nothing about her tailoring work or what really went into it.

Rubbing her hands together, her gaze turned sharp and keen. “Well, Toasty, we don’t know until we try, right? Maybe I should make you something to wear. I bet you’d just love that.” Although she doubted the kitten could understand a single thing she said, the fact that she was met by her kitten’s back as they wandered off entirely disinterested in Belidrae’s conversation aloud, she couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be into it. Back to the drawing board, eh?”

She’d figure it out. She always did.

— @daily-writing-challenge

[fuck1ng-queen]

Something Else

Jolly Karlsson x Reader

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: hidden feelings

Author comments: hiiiii! time for the second one shot to celebrate valentine's with bad omens! thank you so much for the love on yesterday's fic, i hope you all like this one too and i'll see you tomorrow! <3

Joakim was sitting in the quietest corner of the café, with an open book in front of him. However, his eyes wandered to the window, as if he were somewhere far away. The dim light of the golden hour lit up his features in an almost cinematic way, highlighting his face and long hair. You watched him from a little distance, feeling that weird new sensation, a warmth in your chest that lately had become each day more common - and hard to ignore - every time you saw him. There was something about his presence, something that made you impossible to look away, as if the world around him disappeared every time he was near.

You hesitated before approaching. You were friends; why was it so hard lately just to pop up and say hi? Your heart raced every time you thought about it, as if something important was about to happen anytime. Taking a deep breath, you took the coffee cup you had just taken from the balcony, almost working as a shield, and started walking in his direction.

When you finally got closer, he lifted his eyes. The tenderness in his gaze when he met you made your heart jump inside your chest. It was as if he was always waiting for you, as if your presence was what was missing for him.

“I thought you weren’t coming anymore,” he said, closing the book calmly and leaving it aside. His voice was a mix of calmness and provocation that always made you smile.

“I got stuck at work,” you replied, trying to sound as casual as you could, even though you felt your voice was trembling.

Joakim stood up and, with that unpretentious way so characteristic of him, pulled the chair for you. It was a simple thing, but there was so much kindness in that gesture, and you knew that each time was more difficult to find. However, it was there, and you couldn’t help but smile one more time. You sat down, thanking him while he returned to his place, his movements flowing with an almost natural grace.

The conversation between you started as always, with fluidity, lightness, and fun, with some jokes here and there that made you laugh sincerely. He spoke about the books he was reading, about new compositions, about plans for the weekend, all with a contagious passion that made you want to spend hours hearing what he had to say. But there was something different that afternoon. There was a heavy silence between some phrases, as if the both of you knew things weren’t as they always were anymore, but none of you knew exactly how to deal with it.

It was when you realized then: that he was going through his jacket pocket too much. It was something small, almost imperceptible, but you knew him too well, you knew his mannerisms by heart. He was nervous, and that only increased your tension.

“What was it?” you asked, leaning yourself a little in his direction. Your voice sounded a little lower than you expected, full of an almost worried curiosity.

“Nothing” he answered way too quickly, looking away. After, he let out a nervous laugh, stretching the back of his head. “It's just that… It’s complicated.”

You arched one eyebrow, challenging him in silence. He knew you wouldn’t give up so soon, which made him smile sideways, in a mix of nervousness and admiration.

“Okay, you won” he gave in, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture you knew he always did when he was trying to organize his thoughts. “Do you promise me you’re not gonna start laughing?”

“Won’t promise you anything” you answer already laughing, with a teasing smile, trying to set the mood lighter. 

He took a deep sigh and put his hand in the pocket one more time. When he pulled something out, you saw a little black velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat, and before he could say anything, you blurted out, trying to hide your tension with a playful tone: 

“Is this a ring box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

The expression on his face was priceless. At first, he got surprised, then he tried to hold back his laughter and ended up laughing. The sound of his laughter, full of life and unconcerned, filled the café and warmed your heart. You couldn’t avoid laughing with him, which made people at the other tables look at you, but none of you actually caring about it.

“You never make things easy, don’t you?” he said, still laughing, but his eyes had a warm sparkle that made your heart skip a beat. There was something else in there, something that words weren't saying.

“What is it, then?” you asked, pointing to the box, a little bit more serious now, but still smiling.

He stayed in silence for a moment, looking at the object in his hands as if he was building up courage. His breath seemed heavy, and you could see the sutil movement of his throat while he swallowed dry. 

“It's not what you’re thinking” he finally answered, opening the box. Inside, there was a little heart-shaped keychain, with a discrete sparkle. The edges were carved in detail. “I saw this in a store and I thought of you. I know it’s kinda silly, but I thought you might like it.”

You stayed in silence for a second, surprised by the simplicity and the meaning behind his gesture. When you lifted your gaze to him, you realized he was waiting anxiously for a reaction of yours, his eyes frozen on you as if that moment for him meant a lot.

“I loved it,” you said, smiling, while taking the keychain carefully, feeling the symbolic weight of it in your hands. “Thank you, Jolly.”

He got visually more relaxed by hearing you, letting out a sigh not even he himself knew he was holding. The light mood had come back, but something inside you knew that that afternoon had been a turning point in your story. Something had changed and, this time, it seemed to be something that none of you wanted to avoid. You kept your gift in your pocket, but the heat it had brought seemed to spread all over your chest.

While you kept speaking with each other, now in a more laid-back way, you couldn’t help but think about how Joakim always seemed to know exactly what to do to make little moments in something special. And, for the first time, you had permitted yourself to imagine what could happen if that weird and overwhelming feeling was more than a friendship.

.

Masterlist | Valentine's One Shots

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[harocat]

I'm by no means an Ilia hater. He's a fantastic athlete. I'm not big on his programs this year specifically (short is a bit boring and the free feels more like an exhibition), but I've enjoyed the ones he had the past two seasons before (Succession and Malagueña were particularly strong).

But, and I will not deny this at this point, damn does watching him make me miss Nathan so much.

[mariocki]

Peter Wyngarde sprawls around being louche as a self-styled modern day Caesar, Tiberio Magadino, in The Saint: The Man Who Liked Lions (5.8, ITC, 1966)

[fish-and-forbear]

I think I am doing okay, here.

I wish so many things could have been different. My heart aches for it. But I wouldn't have found my voice, otherwise, nor would I have met so many wonderful people and creatures.

I wish the other one would worry less. It's very silly to realize he thought I was the panicked one... now I've organized my mind and honed my edge, and he's the one who keeps feeling down...

I don't entirely understand why... life is very good. Everyone is getting a little better. It aches because I can feel it like a physical creature clawing in the skull, and whispering all of the misery in this world, the atrocities, the tragedies, the possibilities of so many things ending, or of getting hurt or worse for who he is. And being afraid for the people he cares about...

But that doesn't help us sleep right now. It doesn't change that tomorrow morning the sun will rise and we don't have work and we could do anything, within reason of course.

I'm not sure. Maybe I am the stupid one for being so positive. But one of us has to be, now.

Maybe it's just my instincts waking up again. It's so easy to throw my aching heart and memories away when someone I care about needs me. And right now, once more, we just need to rest.

Nothing bad is even happening! We had a nice day. We talked to friends, we played a game and lost track of time because it was so much fun. I liked that game and the name is appropriate, Loop Hero. Ironic but fitting! We helped a friend feel better after a nightmare. And now it's OUR turn to rest.

Nothing is wrong. Everything is alright. Many big steps forward this coming week. I feel his worry creeping into my heart too, but there's no need for it. We were brave and confident before, we can be that way again. :)

- Grist

[endursent]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alhaitham ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arataki Itto ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baizhu ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cyno ;

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

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

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

  But very well, he wins this round. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dainsleif ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diluc ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaedehara Kazuha ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaeya ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 

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

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

Kamisato Ayato ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaveh ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neuvillette ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tartaglia ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thoma ;

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

  But he also has a problem…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Venti  ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanderer ;

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

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

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

  At least, that was the plan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wriothesley ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xiao ;

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

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

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

  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.

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

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

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

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

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

  But he does. Not. Meow. 

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

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

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

Zhongli ;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Great Great Grandmother

Dpxdc Prompt #3

In the Wayne household it was well-known that Alfred Pennyworth's word was law. It was much less well-known the circumstances that their beloved butler had grown up it. Alfred was raised by his paternal grandmother, Danielle "Elle" Pennyworth, née Fenton.

While Danny's obsession with protection led him to stay in Amity Park until every tie he had to the place joined him in the Ghost Zone, Dani's obsession with freedom led her to do anything but stay in the same place.

She moved all over Earth, then to space, then to the realms, and finally to other dimensions. When Dani found herself stuck in a dimension very similar to her own, except a couple hundred years in the past, she knew Clockwork had something to do with it. She wanted to curse him out, her obsession was freedom and Dani did not do well caged.

It turned out to not matter too much because after a year or so trapped in the dimension Dani found herself going by the name Elle Pennyworth with a baby boy on the way.

Time flew by fast and her husband had died, content enough with his life that he didn't leave behind a ghost. Elle was heartbroken, but knew a peaceful death was what he wanted.

Her son had a son himself, Alfred was his name. Elle promised herself she would be the best grandmother she could be. That turned out to be a promise she had to fulfill sooner rather than later.

Her son and his wife had died only a couple of years after baby Alfred was born, disease apparently. It didn't take her long to notice that little Freddie had taken after her more ghostly half.

He was always appearing in places he wasn't supposed to and he was far more empathetic than most any human she had ever met. Elle taught him to control his more inhuman aspects and made sure that he would never forget etiquette.

"Being able to know how people are feeling is easy for those like us," she would tell him, "but knowing how to help those that aren't feeling well whether it be physical, mental, or emotional that's difficult."

"Why do we help them then?" Little Freddie would ask, before he knew the words she had spoken by heart and the answer to his own question was carved into his soul.

"Because difficult means there's something you're fighting for, and helping means that you care."

Alfred would repeat those same words to little Brucie when he was little and to all of his many many children. He would give a small smile as he said it, Granny Elle would love to know how much her great great grandchildren took after her brother.

He couldn't wait for Granny Elle and Great Uncle Danny to meet his many grandchildren. It would be a bit awkward to explain how they both still looked like they were in their teens though. Alfred only kept up the illusion of aging because he hadn't found a good time to tell his family he wasn't as human as they thought.