#my gf was protected

[yuridovewing]

btw for those who don’t follow my main, im in the uk right now with my wifey (non wc fan) and we were out for my bday today and he’s always said that he never really saw the series in bookstores, and we went to waterstones and i tried to find the wc collection and it was. SO small. like it had most of the first arc and then some scattered throughout the series. no SEs or comics or novella collections either. why is the cat series set in the uk not a thing in the uk

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol.I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend

4 in 1 blurbs

vol. II

warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods

Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.

He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.

And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.

With other people though, he has…different methods.

You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.

You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.

His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.

“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.

A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.

Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.

Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.

Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.

“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.

Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.

“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.

The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.

“Jay?”

His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”

You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.

“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.

He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.

You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.

His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.

You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.

Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.

He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.

Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.

“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.

Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”

“Thank God.”

Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.

His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.

“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”

Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).

You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.

Fuck he loves you.

Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.

He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.

You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.

You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.

“Hey there.”

You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.

"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."

Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.

"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"

"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.

Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.

With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.

"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”

You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.

Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.

Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.

But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.

"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."

“She—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”

The guy hesitates.

“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.

That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”

Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.

He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.

“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.

“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.

You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”

He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.

“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”

He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.

“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.

You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.

“Jaybird!”

Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.

You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.

So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.

You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”

"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.

He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.

You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.

Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.

You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.

You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.

"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.

Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.

“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.

He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.

He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.

You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.

So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.

vol. II

[synodicsoma]

My old werewolf hyperfixation mauled Stanley so now this AU is rotting my brain.

[saturnsconstellation]

Barty Crouch Jr would be the uncle that would rant to 6 year old Luna about his issues with Evan while she paints his nails pink and puts hello kitty hair clips to hold his hair back, and then he would 100% follow her advice.

He’d be THAT bitch and that’s why he’s Luna’s favorite. (I’m kidding) (or am I)

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Karasuno's woman lovers

[essektheylyss]

It really is so fun that Essek started mentioning "my partner" like every three lines because he probably doesn't actually get the chance to talk about it that often.

I think there can often be an impulse when you really care about someone to want to shout from the rooftops all the great things you feel and notice about them, and Essek isn't really in a position to do that. The people who he can talk freely to already know him and Caleb, and the people who don't know them likely aren't safe to tell real personal details to. It's one thing to fabricate a parental relationship knowing that there isn't someone to trace that to, but it's an entirely different thing to tell someone honestly about the people you love when any small detail might put them in danger if it fell into the wrong hands.

The Hells are safe to say that kind of thing to—perhaps mostly on a meta level, in that the DM is aware that they are the protagonists—and they also characteristically tend to offer a listening ear to anyone they meet, and I think it's delightful that Essek actually recognized and responded to that.

[thesupernaturalhouse]

So we've seen how protective Vaggie is of Charlie and how she will threaten anyone who tries to hurt charlie.....we hacnt see Charlie being this protective though and iw ant to see it

I want somebody to write a fic diversion au thing where Val says "Yeah, leave and go back you your whore" after Angle tells her to go

And charlie absolutely goes APESHIT, because you can insult her. You can insult her dreams. But if you insult Vaggie she WILL kill you and have 0 regrets about it

I want her to grab him by the collar and say that exact thing and end woth 'if you say soemthing like that about her again I will destroy your soul infrotn of everyone here.' And then throw him into a wall before leaving the studio-

I think she doesn't do it to angle cause she knows it's just banter and he doesn't eman any of it and Vaggie doesn't care all that much- but Val?? Val 100% means what he says.

[typing-catastrophe]

You see me? - part one (stanford pines x hallucination!reader)

masterlist 1k words | warnings: none --------------------------------------------------

'This is new', he thought, looking straight ahead at something that he was sure he shouldn't be able to look at.

"Can you see me?", a beat of silence, "You can, can't you?" there was caution in your voice, almost as if you wouldn't let yourself believe it. "Please say something"

Ford kept quiet.

"Say something."

Nothing.

"SAY SOMETHING!"

Ford sighed, took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. The long hours and relentless work were starting to get to him. He put his glasses back on and turned back to his desk.

"No, no! Please!" you begged, panic rising in your voice.

'Perhaps not entirely new, but certainly concerning.' He couldn't recall if Bill ever did actively made him hallucinate when he was lucid, or if everything he experienced was already in the mindscape, but either way - what was happening in this very moment felt a bit too realistic for his liking.

What was happening, broken down to its very basics, was that a stranger stood in his study. And they simply had no way to be there. Apart from the fact that it was the middle of the night and the shack was closed, the way to his study was hidden and he did not hear the elevator move or open its doors. No one except for him should and could be here. No one was here when he came down here hours ago. There was no place they could've hidden. There was no possible scenario in which the situation at hand could've taken place. So the only option left, in his blurry mind, was that the last 30 to 40 years finally caught up to him and he was going insane.

At that moment he didn't even consider a paranormal explanation. Maybe because he believed the shack was sufficiently secured against all kinds of anomalies and supernatural occurrences. Or maybe because in the back of his mind, he always did ask himself when the time would finally come when his mind simply... snapped.

Years and years of stress, mind fuckery, all kinds of injuries and multiverse jumps must've left their mark on his psyche in some way after all.

But what did surprise him was the... well, normality of it. It was just a person. It would've made more sense to see Bill or any of the other things he saw in his frequent nightmares. Maybe the more severe ones would come later?

He propped open the new journal he had started recently and poured his thoughts onto the paper.

-

You could only watch in confusion and hurt when the man turned away and got back to whatever the hell it was he was doing all the time.

What had just happened? When he looked up from his work, his eyes landed on you. He didn't look through you like every other time and everyone else. This time was different! But why did he act like it wasn't? What was he doing? Why was he ignoring you?

Your newfound hope left you as abrupt as it had appeared. You felt so impossibly lonely again. Empty, distant, cold. Ever so cold with no source for the freezing feeling that seeped deep into your bones.

He could see you. You knew it.

This wasn't like the times when you were screaming and crying and pleading for him - for anyone - to hear you.

He. could. see. you.

And you knew it.

-

For a good minute, Ford stared straight ahead at the blank page. He desperately tried to form a coherent thought he could write down, but when he tried to get a hold of them, it felt like his metaphorical hands moved through fog, swirling eerie patterns into it, but never grasping anything solid.

The urge to let his head sink onto the table got stronger by the second, yet he resisted. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep inhale and straightened his back. He got this. He didn't need to sleep, not yet.

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, stifling a yawn while doing so.

"Why are you ignoring me?" You had sat down on the floor a respectful distance away from him, legs pulled close to your chest, arms hugged tightly around them. Now you looked up at him with genuine hurt in your eyes.

You didn't know this man, and he didn't know you. The only circumstance that justified the sharp pang in your chest was the fact that he was the only one around actually being able to perceive you, yet for a reason unbeknownst to you, acted like he wasn't.

'Still there, hm?' he thought. He had hoped shifting his focus onto something else would help, but apparently, it did not. The figure was still present, still talking to him. He would like to take a proper look at it, but he was afraid that engaging with it would make the whole thing worse. You were not doing anything at the moment, and he'd rather keep it that way.

He yawned again, cursing himself for indulging in the weakness of his own body. It felt like it was betraying him, lulling him in and tempting him to lay down. But he knew what would inevitably follow. The pain, the torture, the guilt. He could not let that happen. Bill would not claim any more of his time and thought than absolutely necessary. He would not willingly leap into the open arms of whatever terror was already waiting for him.

"You should go to sleep. It's late. And you look tired." Ford almost scoffed at that.

All he needed was some good old, reliable coffee and he was as good as new. So he went upstairs, grabbed a new mug to set down next to all the other mugs on his desk and workbench, filled it to the brim with the dark, hot liquid and made his way underground again.

He was relieved to see that his hallucination apparently showed no interest in following him upstairs, but he was just as disappointed to see that it was still sitting in the same spot when he returned. He sat the mug down and with a defeated sigh lowered himself onto his chair.

It was going to be a long night.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated masterlist a/n: holy shit i did it! i found the time, energy and motivation yaayy @cynamon-ancymon thought this might interest you ^^ if not just let me know and i remove the tag

[raayllum]

Callum, who can fly, being so pissed at the Celestial elves for the drop thing, whereas Rayla, who can't fly, not being pissed at all... I love them so much

[iovqiris]

the stand off kept together serious gf and her goofy silly happy gf that just exists reminders her of warmth love and vulnerability will forever win in my heart

[slimslamflimflam]

Wait if all the journal 3 pages were restored after Weirdmageddon why does Bill’s book insist there were still missing pages that just conveniently happened to pertain to his incredibly sad backstory and concepts brought up earlier in that same book

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Well instead of the cancelled date, my new regular friend (that I met through a friend of a friend) swung by to hang out for a few hours instead. And honestly? Just as good if not better of a time. It's been so dang long since I made a new friend! We just sat and smoked and talked and it felt so wonderfully at ease. I didn't even feel obligated to wear a bra lol

Also she had never heard of Bill and Ted?? So I loaned her my copies of the first two movies, and showed her my small collection of B&T art and memorabilia, while feeling like a bit of a huge dork.

[mccleans]

this is where i blog from

[fuwahua]

Day 17 - Raspberries

✮⋆˙ TKTober Day 17 - Raspberries

✮⋆˙ Tags: Yelan/Yanfei (Established relationship), bullying your gf cutely, tummy, raspberries, fluff!

“I love your stomach window.”

“Hm?”

Yelan turns to Yanfei with a raised brow, the fabric of her tunic stretching as she does. The thin black fabric over her stomach creases and straightens, subtly shiny under the sun, and Yanfei sighs. “It’s so sexy when you stretch like that.”

“That’s the point.”

“I love your uniform. I love your job. I love you. Can you hire me?”

Yelan snorts, coming around the breakfast table. She plucks the half-drunken cup of black tea from Yanfei’s hands with ease. “Teyvat to Yanfei—are you awake yet? I told you to get some sleep last night.”

Archons, she knows. It’s not that Yanfei doesn’t want to sleep but rather that she literally can’t these days: after accepting a domestic case that appeared absurdly simple for the client’s proposed payment, she found herself unfolding Pandora’s box. Both sides of the divorce case wanted to claim ownership of an old property they’d inherited from the wife’s side but only after extensive research in the Qixing’s folders had they discovered the house was built on Adepti reserved non-residential land. Then, to add to the complexity, it was never officially claimed by said Adepti, so right now the entire case (and her paycheck!) is on hold until they can determine who it belongs to, if it legally can be claimed by any party.

A nightmare. An honest and true nightmare made worse by the fact that they can’t make any breakthroughs until the Qixing return with official word from the adepti (apparently Yanfei doesn’t count due to conflict of interest) so she was going to get some actual shut eye yesterday, only to get jump scared by her girlfriend sliding in from the bedroom window and occupying her all night instead.

Hey, wait a second.

“You’re the reason I didn’t get any!”

Yelan whistles. Yanfei groans, face falling between her arms on the table. She’s so tired.

“Please tell me the qixing has responded.”

“You’d be the first to know if they did.” Another groan. Her only solace is Yelan’s hand ruffling her hair, stroking the area she likes between her horns before drifting down to pat her back. “Hey, up. It’s breakfast time.”

“Not hungry.”

“Aw, poor baby.” Yelan’s voice is teasing, near. Her arms encircle Yanfei in a half-hug, tugging. “Come on, up. Eat.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“You sure?”

Yanfei yelps as the hands around her waist pinch her without warning, eyes shooting open in alert as sleep leaves her at once. Yelan’s lips meet her ear, the sound of her kiss loud before she purrs. “Because if you don’t eat, you’ll starve. And if you starve, your sexy tummy I love is going to disappear.”

“Hehehey! Yelahahan, stop!”

“Don’t wanna,” Yelan mocks. Yanfei gasps, scrunching up her shoulders as Yelan traps her against the table, tapping along her sides. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of her hands on her scales, oversensitive and exposed under Yelan’s knowing fingers. Her knees jump and bang against it, causing the cutlery to jitter, when Yelan’s nails scratch her hips. “Careful, babe. Don’t want to spill the breakfast I worked so hard on.”

She squeaks as Yanfei’s hands spider up to her underarms before diving further low, sliding under her skirt and scratching her thighs. It’s terrible, maddening, made worse so by the memory of Yelan doing the exact same thing yesterday with very, very different intentions. Yanfei squirms, legs kicking in protest, but Yelan’s weight keeps her rooted to the chair. “AHAHALL YOU DID WHAHAS BUY YOUTIAO!”

“Mm, from your favorite vendor.”

“Leheheht gohoaha—wAH!”

She’d call her the worst if it wasn’t for the shriek she emits as Yanfei’s hands hook under her thighs and pulls her straight out of the seat; her head swings back only to be caught by a gentle hand before she hits the table. Yanfei pants, hair splayed around the countertop, eyes stuck on her ceiling (did she always have that crack there? Was that water damage?) before looking down to Yelan hovering above her hips. She shivers, scotting away, but Yelan’s hands rooted to her hips keeps her from absconding.

“Hehehe… come on,” Yanfei bargains, swallowing as Yelan’s nails tap on her stomach. “Let’s have the youtiao before it gets cold.”

“You can heat it back up again, can’t you?” Yelan coos, nuzzling her stomach. Her blue hair drags along the surface as she moves, spiraling the scales along Yanfei’s ribs and she giggles. “I just want to have a quick snack first.”

“S-snack? No, YelAHAHAHAHAN PLEAHAHAHASE!”

Her horns do bang against the table, the sound loud but no louder than the screech of her laughter as Yelan holds her down, lips vibrating as she blows raspberry after raspberry against her navel. Yanfei shouts, squirming, screaming, her legs kicking wildly in the air as incoherent pleas escape her with every shockwave running through her body, but the mischief glistening in Yelan’s eyes promises no quarter. It tickles so much, a vibration down to her core, and when she tries to beg for a break it dissipates into wild giggles until—

Clang!

Yanfei gasps, jolting, as Yelan’s body flanks her entirely. She’s flush between her body and the table, shivering with residual giggles, as Yelan’s shoulders blanket both sides of her head. A moment passes, then another, and it’s only when it’s clear that no intruder is in the house that Yelan relents with a sigh and pecks her cheek.

“You okay?”

“Yehehe,” she chuckles, leaning up and kissing Yelan on the lips. Her girlfriend smiles into it, the slant of her lips inviting, and she kisses her again. “What was that?”

Yelan snorts. “See for yourself.”

That’s never good. Yelan climbs off her with an outstretched hand before hauling Yanfei upwards against her chest. She points to a metal bowl on the floor, bag of youtiao fallen out of it, and teases. “You knocked that off with your squirming.”

Oops. Did she? Yanfei flushes, trying to picture herself laughing on the table, desperate to escape Yelan’s evil tickly mouth. Yeah, okay, she probably did it. Wait. “Hey! Who’s the reason for my squirming, hm?”

“Guilty as charged,” Yelan says. She bends down to deliver another kiss to Yanfei’s temple, then once more on her horn. Yanfei shifts, pleased, when Yelan pulls her up and delivers another on her lips. If this was the reward for catching guilty criminals, Yanfei would never retire. “Come on, I want breakfast. Someone kept me up all night and now I’m starving.”

Yanfei’s eyes narrow. “What happened to your snack?”

“Wasn’t enough,” Yelan says. “Unless it wants some more?”

She squeaks, ducking away to grab the metal bowl. “Nope! Get the soymilk, will you?”

Yelan’s chuckle echoes in the room, fond, as her hand graces Yanfei’s horns with a gentle tap. Pyro gathers along her fingers and it’s only a minute until the youtiao are crispy once more; she sets them on the table, rearranging the chairs, only to pause at the sound of a hum. She looks up, staring now, as Yelan traverses her kitchen with ease: she could arrange it with her eyes closed by now, familiar, the pop of her cabinets opening matched with the clatter of cups and cutlery, glass seasoning boxes and bamboo mats. Yelan’s hum is low, comfortable, and as she gets on her tip toes to reach the top shelf, her tunic flutters over her stomach.

Yanfei sighs.

“I love your stomach window.”

Yelan laughs. The soymilk spills slightly over the glass cup, and she cleans it with a smile. “I love yours too.”

[kindtim3]

idk how to draw a braid……