#short Anon

[oldmanenjoyer]

Hi old man enjoyer I stumbled into your page read all the Peppino x reader ficlets and they were all so sweeties so cute so cute you're doing the lord's work. Idk if you're taking any requests but if you are is it possible for you to do one where the reader is short and huffy about not being able to steal kisses whenever bc they cannot reach? I would explode (extremely positive) if you did. Thank you.

-short anon

Peppino is not extremely tall himself. But he's got a good head on you, so he's happy as can be. The difference helps make him feel manly, able to protect you, not that he needs to (especially since the entire Pizza Tower saw how deadly you both could be when properly pissed off). It's a nice feeling nonetheless, one he enjoys when his stress starts to wane into a warm happiness with you.

You tug on his sleeve, and there's a moment when Peppino expects a smothering of kisses to the face, but none come. Instead, he glances over to see you on your tiptoes, scowling as you yank on his arm, forcing him to bend down to your level.

Peppino has to laugh as you kiss his cheek. "Tesorino."

"Peppino." You hum, satisfied now.

"You can ask." He says, straightening back up. "I will-a bend down for you."

"Where's the fun in that?" You ask, glancing off in a weak attempt to appear nonchalant. Peppino can only smile. "Takes away the surprise if I ask."

"You failing to-a kiss me on the first-a go does too." Peppino points out, laughing when you slug his arm. "Oh! Sono ferito. Sto morendo. Un topolino mi sta attaccando!"

"HEY!" You shout, well enough versed in Italian to know he's teasing you.

Yes. Even as you knock your fists against his back, Peppino is extremely happy to be taller than you. After all, it's not often he gets to be the one teasing others.

[cottoncandylesbo]

why's it called the mouth of a river if that's where all the water comes out?

would you prefer it to be called the anus instead?

[zosanbrainrot]

Current thought is just… Zoro, covered in blood, holding his child Chopper

always here for a blood covered Zoro!!

[princessbrunette]

while we're on the topic, you know that stereotype where firefighters rescue kittens from trees? what if Kitty gets stuck in a tree one day and jj's a firefighter and has to come get her out and that's how they meet 👀

≽^• ⩊ •^≼ ₊˚⊹♡

you don’t remember climbing as high as you did. all you knew, was that you’d lost track of all the branches, looked down, and froze. you were way higher than you intended on climbing.

it had been atleast two hours now. you were getting cold, thirsty, the branch you sat on was digging into places it shouldn’t — which is why when the small company firefighter car rolls up, you feel like you’ve seen an angel. when a cute blonde boy that you can barely make out from up there steps out, the feeling intensifies.

it’s not long before you’re staring at eachother face to face, the stranger leaning casually on his ladder telling you that the height didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“so uh, yeah — usually i’m rescuing cats from trees but… hey.” he speaks casually, probably to keep you calm and collected. you furrow your brows, letting out an uncomfortable whimper as you look down at the drop, realising he’s probably gonna have to move you. “hey hey hey, keep it cool we’re allll good. jus’ look at me, atta girl.” he waves a hand and redraws your attention, mainly due to the fact that despite being stuck at the top of a tree — you’d still preen at praise.

you suck in some shaky breaths, digging your nails into the bark and he blinks at you, observing your body language. “alright, look… me n’you are just gonna stay here as long as you need ‘til you feel like you’re ready to come down with me. uh’kay? no rush.” something about his words calm you and you nod, keeping your eyes trained on him. “nice, nice— good. so… y’wanna start by telling me your name?”

≽^• ⩊ •^≼ ₊˚⊹♡

[meulinn]

may we see a nice trezzy in these trying times?

Old terepy

[captainjamster]

breeding/pregnancy kink, incest, thoughts of kidnapping, daddy kink, controlling behaviour // reader is written with female anatomy and wears makeup but isn't gendered

Price knows that his relationship with you is complicated, to say the least.

There's no room for acceptance of your relationship - no one understands the festering need clawing underneath his skin, the way his hands itch for you. Any normal person would be horrified by the way he feels about you, the things he does to you - but years of service have shown John just how far from normal he is.

Sometimes he longs to show you off - present you to the world, take you out on dinners and dates, bring you to functions without questions about why you hold him so close, or why his arm always wraps dangerously low around your waist. It gets considerably worse when he entertains that barely dorment desire to fight his thick cock between your thighs and breed you again and again. The miracle of contraceptives have provided him with an outlet; he can fuck you raw and stick to secretly hope it somehow takes, despite the odds. But it only tampers the wishful thinking that has him pinching your nipples and wishing they'd leak, running his hands over the fat of your stomach, longing to feel that little bump of seed grow and grow.

He knows there's one solution to all this - to escaping the judgement of others keeping him from consuming you whole. Not a day passes where he doesn't consider taking you off-grid entirely - he knows Nik has a house somewhere in the mountains he could inhabit. Just you and him, a small cabin and some livestock.

But it's not realistic (-yet-). He couldn't leave you all alone, no help or company around, during the long periods of his deployment. So he sticks for ravishing you in private, desperately trying to convey the need he feels with each thrust, like he could imprint the depths of his depraved love if his fingers grip your hips just a bit tighter. He never leaves you unsatisfied, and it's not over until you're blurry-eyed with exhaustion, dripping his cum onto the sheets already damp with your slick, mumbling nothing but love and appreciation for your Daddy as he scoops you up against his chest.

There are other small pleasures, too. Hearing you splutter on video calls when your friends make teasing quips about the marks you can't even begin to cover with clothes or makeup, avoiding questions and alluding to some vague hookup. Watching you get ready to go out for a night, just to force you down to your knees and wrap those pretty coloured lips around his cock. You complain every time he tuts at the short cut of your outfits (even when they're appropriate, but he'll never admit that), chastising you for lacking modesty, but your pussy is always wet when he pushes you back to the bedroom for a lesson.

Eventually, John will work something out. A man like him always does. But for now, he relishes the shadows that he keeps you in - his hidden prize, kept safely up on the shelf. But a prize is made to be appreciated, no? Good thing John can think of a few boys with an eye for a pretty toy.

[yi3248]

they are playing sudoku (ghost is trying his best to not backseat sudoku)

[oraclekleins]

hello hello!! i discovered you a few hours ago and LOVE your content<3

could i request a joost klein x gn!reader where the reader is also competing in eurovision, representing {readers country} and basically they are already dating and joost kind of gets jealous because readers new make up artist got a little TOO touchy.. once they get back to their shared hotel room he expresses that jealousy by getting a bit more clingy?

when reader tried to ask about whats wrong he just kisses them or brushes it off as not important :3

thank you if you accept my request and have a great day <3

ill be 🩵anon if that’s okay!

Hii! Thanks for being so sweet, nonnie! Hope this is up to your liking. 💙 I changed the prompt a little iiif that's alright, so here's kind of an aftermath of that. ^^ I love any feedback.

You're Overcomplicating Things . . -> Jealous!Joost Klein x Reader

The buzzing of Joost's phone wakes him with a start. 

His head turns a bit to the side, slowed from exhaustion. Joost's vision is still catching up with him, the living room gauzed in a radial blur; he feels like he’s wading through quicksand — dragging himself to sit up, before his arm catches another body. You're curled onto the left side of the bed, unmoving —  the pillow your arm was wrapped around having ended up on the floor. There’s a spot of drool on your hoodie, plush lips tugged along the bold Eurovision logo of your sleeve. 

“Morning,” Joost mumbles, patting the cushions for his phone. His voice is groggy, scratched dry from the shitty beers you two had downed the night before. He grimaces at the spit webbed on the top of his mouth, flicks at it with his tip of tongue in disgust. He moves to gently push at your leg; it’s hot, too hot for you to lounge this close; there’s a pool of sweat sinking into the crook of his chest — he feels gross, sticky, uncomfortable. There's a heavy silence in the air. It feels like you did something wrong, but you can't place your finger on it. You stir in response, a whine of annoyance rumbling from your throat. You blink over to see what Joost's all worked up about, who’s grabbing his phone from the nightstand, pinching at his forehead.

"Good morning — what's wrong?" You're still waking up, clearing the spit from your throat. Biting back a cough, you manage to sit up, pressing on the wrinkles from your shirt.

Joost offers you a tired smile, moving to kiss your forehead. "Long day ahead, right? Hop to it." A bit of enthusiasm pokes out of his voice as the words die out, his lips trailing to your jaw, pressing into it. It feels like he's hiding from you, even when he's slotted into your side like a puzzle piece, lazily tracing his fingers against your hip.

He's sulking, the boy-shape trying to disappear into your skin, upset and loathing.

Your fingers find his curls, gently raking your nails across his scalp. He makes a noise of satisfaction, face nestling closer to your collarbone.

You would know his envious touches through death. There were small, red marks around your waist where he had been pressing into it, marking you, yet.. gentle. Apologetically, he rubbed his thumb over them, turning his face from you.

"Joost," you sigh, "you think it's stupid," he perks up. "Right? That's why you won't tell me."

His bottom lip is caught between his teeth. "Your makeup, it looked good yesterday. The new artist. Good." Joost fixates on the blanket under you both, looking anywhere but at you. "Good connection."

"Good connection?" He's already kissing the words from your mouth, stealing them from you. If he took them, then he wouldn't have to hear you say them. Listen to you accuse him — be disappointed. "Joost, let me," you're tired of this game already, and he's holding you like he can't get enough, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. You can feel the tense of panic in him, cold throughout his veins, a tremble to his grip.

You're prying his fingers away — careful, soft, not like a punishment. A warning. "You need to talk to me."

Joost is quiet for a minute. He's thinking. His uncomfortable grin is full of teeth, ones that graze on your irritability, biting into you like a peach. He doesn’t wipe the juice from his mouth —  instead lets it dry on his chin, picking at the stain. A rash of his own, festering nerves.

He sits up. Joost's tank hugs his figure. His hair is coiffed into loose, blonde strands of fray, kissing the back of his neck — bouncing when he tilts his head. He frowns. You wrap your arm around his shoulder, keeping him afloat.

"You do not rehearse today, yes?" Joost asks after a bit. You want to make a remark about how you have his schedule memorized, everything written down on your phones, laid out for him — it's a little mean. He doesn't need it right now.

Swinging your legs to the side of his bed, you nod. "Not today, yeah. You want me to come hang out with you?"

Joost nods, a little too fast.

You kiss the side of his head, pulling him back into your chest. "You need to tell me when you're upset. Even if you think I'm gonna get mad, or, I don't know — weirded out."

"I love you." You hum into shoulder. You're ghosting the pad of your thumb against his cheekbone. He looks satisfied, curling back into you.

Joost tangles your fingers. You know how this goes.

"I love you too."

Thanks for reading!

[yrsonpurpose]

Henry’s beside him, holding his hand, and he’s holding Henry’s hand back, so at least that’s something.

[quick-rotting]

BIOS! kinda just threw almost ever bio (+ some new ones) that i have ever put together in this post so they are easily accessible ;)

ཊ 🐹🌎𓈒ིུ #𝓗erfi͟l͟e͟ 📁-> 2OO5 🌺 ཻུ۪۪͎ ▞ြ░

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𖡄̽ ཽ🈖⃨🦊 Half pasted 12 🥗✹🔮🗽̸ཻུ۪۪۪۫ ۪ܺ 𝓝ew York

̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ ིུ͠*: NYU 🏒🀢͟ ͟#Double0 🚧 ON THE iCE ؄ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘

◍*⃝̥🌺👔 B͟l͟o͟o͟d͟ of 𝒜ncients ◌◍🍱 ❤︎𝄢۫.ࣨ. ݁

⒆ 🥗✹📮◌❘❙ ⃨̃ ᭂ📝 Next Up! ⇨ 🦴 𝒱𝒾llage

⃨ ☕️🍀 𝄡ㅤallad of 𖦞’#⃞2O͟O͟5 📁👚 ⟡˙˖ ıl 🧉

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̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ ིུ͠*: ⚽️#1͟1͟ 🎒❝ℋe’s A Global S͟ℯn͟s͟a͟t͟i͟o͟n͟❞ ⇨ ⒆ ᯤ̸ཻུ۪۪۪۫ 🌎

(✱✱✱) 🍃⚽️ # 2͟6͟ on the field ! 🏮🌺 ▭▬

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❝ campus it girl ❞ 🪷🧱🍳 🈖⃨ ⃨̃🏁 ❙⬮⃨۪̃۟⬤

🧇⃝͜͡🚞 형 🍢 ⒆ 🆙ZøNE . .ㅤ🍮 ?? ̼ 🗯️𓊍ㅤׂㅤ͡⊹

🍒 #⃝d͟e͟a͟d͟b͟o͟y͟c͟l͟u͟b͟ 🫀🎍𝒪n My Way! ⇨ London

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𖡄̽ᭂ 👔 it-B☆Y Class #⃞20͟0͟5.. 𒁍🧉🥬

𖥟𓈃 THECURE.05.COM 🎸🌃 ⃟͚̊▞

🥃ༀ🪲 n͟o͟⅄͟ǝ͟ʌ͟o͟ꓶ͟s͟ʎ͟ɐ͟ʍ͟ʅ͟Ɐ͟ʅ͟ʅ͟ᴉ͟M͟I͟ ⃪꫶͜ᩘ◍

⒆ 🆙ZøNE ㅤ?? ̼ 🗯️ i̲N̲T̲H̲e̲D̲A̲R̲K̲ 🚧🔮

ཊ 🐹🌺𓈒ིུ & ON THE L⬤⬮SE 🪣🪷⭐️

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Imagine melusine creator slowly starting to open up to other characters from Fontaine, Since i believe they didnt care for the whole impostor hunt thing

I shall now leave it to your imagination:3..

*pulls you really close* Arlecchino (and the House of the Hearth)

naturally, being Childe's coworker, she's noticed his increased absences over the past several months- only giving updates during mandatory meetings, who does he think he's fooling. evidently everyone but her, since none of the other Harbingers seem to really care enough or notice. she corners him one afternoon, crossing her arms and bluntly asking exactly what he's been up to. Childe stumbles over his words, attempting to weave together several half-baked excuses as her eyes narrow, before he finally sighs, hands falling to his sides

"...I found the Creator."

Arlecchino blinks, once, her gaze marred with astonishment and doubt and suspicion, and Childe huffs, gesturing for her to follow

he doesn't take her all the way to Merusea, only to the edge of the caverns before telling her to wait, venturing deeper himself. the Melusine all know him, giving him cheerful greetings and leading the Harbinger to you, painting with Mamere. your antennae wiggle when you see him, giving him a warm hug as Childe grins, gently saying that he has someone to introduce you to. there's a flash of fear in your eyes, the months spent with your new siblings and friends calming but not erasing the memories of the people who swarmed and slaughtered you, all because you were impersonating yourself, but Childe gives you a reassuring pat on your shoulder. you trust Foul Legacy, and you trust him- although, he's not so keen on being Foul Legacy in front of Arlecchino. you can still hear his purr in the hum of Childe's voice as he leads you towards his colleague, her legs crossed neatly as she waits. she stands when she hears two sets of footsteps, and you shiver as she turns her cold, scrutinizing gaze over to you, examining your Melusine self silently

just as your siblings taught you, you lean out slightly and wave your mittened hand, hoping to gain her approval

Arlecchino's stare slowly trace over the shimmering markings on your body, in the same place she saw grievous wounds on a corpse, and her eyes widen a fraction

the Fourth Harbinger lowers her head and bows deeply to you, and Childe breathes a sigh of relief

[markscherz]

Mr Frog guy, what is the different between a frog & a toad?

This is probably the second most common question I receive, after "what's your favourite frog".

There is no difference, because this is a false dichotomy. It is not a comparison of equal categories. Toads are one of the ~55 frog families. Toads unequivocally are frogs.

If you want to know the difference between toads and some other family or clade of frogs, you would either have to be more specific, or identify features that are unique to toads—synapomorphies of Bufonidae. These are the differences between toads and all other frogs.

Synapomorphies of Bufonidae include the parotoid glands (but not present in all toads), some funky muscular arrangements, a weird bone in the skull, and the Bidder's organ, which is basically a backup ovary in male toads that allows them to become reproductively active females if their testes are damaged or removed surgically.

[spacechannel6]

New Spring haircut new Spring fit

[ryllen]

to be tall

[tojisun]

OMG. the helmet!!:!!:!: this might be biker simon https://pin.it/3aqBTs5

holy fuck the details on that??? AND THE MUSSY HAIR????

THIS MIGHT BE BIKER!SIMON FR

…ok but it def terrified you when you first saw his helmet 😭

you’ve been hearing johnny joke about simon being in his emo phase, talking about a skull helmet and teasingly call it cringe so you had… low expectations about what it could look like. you’ve seen graphic art on helmets before so you ascribed those to simon’s – a helmet you haven’t seen yet given that simon kept picking you up with his car instead so you never got the chance to glance at the art.

one night, simon messaged you saying that he’d crash at your place for the time being. the meet dragged on, apparently it’s because many members were preparing for the upcoming rally, and you replied to him, saying that he give you a call so you can unlock the door for him.

it’s two in the morning when simon calls, his muffled voice ragged from exhaustion as he tells you he’s outside. you mumble sleepily to him, dismissing his murmured apologies as you amble towards your door.

you peer through the peephole, fear dousing your previous exhaustion because what the fuck is that on the other side of your door.

“sweetheart?” simon’s voice crackles from your phone and you jolt, air rushing back into your lungs. you quietly turn, speeding away from your door to lock yourself in your bathroom, panicked breaths rasping from your dry lips.

“si,” you whisper, your voice broken from a building sob. “there’s someone outside my apartment.”

“what?!” simon replies, his own exhaustion morphing into concern. “do you see them from your room? are you safe?”

“yes,” you murmur, afraid to speak any louder. “i-i don’t know where you are right now but i saw them from my peephole and- si, i’m scared.”

there is an unusual pause on the other line, something you don’t expect from simon, before hearing him breathe in deeply and exhale with a trembling laugh.

“shit, baby,” he says, his voice racked with mirth. “fuck, this is on me but, uh, that’s me that you saw.”

…what?

“what?” you repeat out loud.

“what you might’ve seen is my helmet. remember how i customized it with a skull design?” he clarifies, still sounding so fond before a muffled thumping echoes from his line. then, “i removed my helmet so if you want to check again, you’d see it’s me.”

you nibble on your bottom lip, feeling your heart begin to calm down. “y’promise?”

“on my life, baby.”

that’s all you needed before tiptoeing back to your door, hearing the way simon is still murmuring soft assurances of your safety, and peering through the peephole. you see simon – mussed up hair and exhausted eyes, but that’s simon alright.

you fling your door open, forgetting that you were in a call with him, and instantly dive into his arms. simon catches you with a quiet oof before fixing his arms around you properly.

“shh,” simon whispers, pressing kisses on the top of your head. “i’m home now. y’r safe.”

“m’sorry,” you sniff, embarrassment filling you up now as the panic completely bleeds away.

simon chuckles before pinching your chin to make you look at him. he smiles at you softly when you finally meet his eyes. “nothin’ to be sorry for, baby. i’m proud of you for going to safety and telling me right away.” he kisses your forehead. “you did good, sweetheart.”

he cuddles you as you two sleep and tomorrow morning, he shows you his helmet.

he pulls you to his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder as he points at the engraving, telling you about the multiple trial-and-error helmets he’s gone through until he’s finally found the one that he truly liked.

“mm, it’s pretty,” you say, pretending last night didn’t happen

simon kisses your neck. “i’m glad y’like it.”

your lips wobble at the realization that simon is also down to pretend with you.

you shift on his lap and pepper his face with kisses, humming in delight when warm palms cup your ass to push you closer towards him.

(simon doesn’t tell johnny but johnny knows anyway. he drops beside you with a crooked grin, his shoulder bumping yours.

“so you finally saw the helmet?” he asks.

you nod, ignoring the sudden warmth of embarrassment that fills your cheeks. johnny laughs.

“scary, huh?”

“yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’.

he hums, shaking his head. “made me almost piss my pants, lass. y’r not alone.”

that punches a laughter out of you.)

i live for johnny n reader friendship <333

also ignore how long-ish this turned out again 😭 my fingers truly slipped

[chilschuck]

Not sure how to put this into words (again) but... Chilchuck with a very affectionate reader, one that's always wanting to hug him and hold his hand. Hopeless romantic falls in love with divorced man in his midlife???

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAHHH ANOTHER ADORABLE REQUEST FROM YOU ANON!!! i hope i did it justice!! i wrote this cozy in bed half asleep so it may be more sappy than usual…. Hshkshsjshksj. i hope you enjoy!! <333

— INTERTWINED: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, fluffy + sfw!!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 988. short but sweet!

✦ decided to give you a drabble instead of hcs this time, hope that’s okay!! this was super fun and i would love to elaborate more on the idea, hehe. <333

Physical touch was your love language, that much was clear. With the other party members, you found yourself patting their shoulder or back as you passed. Maybe even offering a hug here and there when you felt it was needed. Yet, with Chilchuck, you discovered your love language really stood out.

When he offered a hand to you to help with your balance, you would take it, giving it a light squeeze in return. Even when you were fine on your feet again, you still didn’t want to let go. You craved his touch so much that even in darker parts of the dungeon, you intertwined your fingers with his. The first time you did it, you could practically hear the sound of his head turning to give you a look. If he was uncomfortable with your touch, he didn’t verbalize it. Instead, he understood what you were seeking, and helped to give you a bit of that comfort.

Hand holding was easy to hide your true intent with, but you began craving even more. Your bravery would shine through when you’d feel his hand in yours long enough, and pretty soon you were setting up your bedroll beside his.

Chilchuck blinked, looking up from situating under his blanket to raise a brow towards you. “What are you doing?”

Biting back a laugh at his oblivious question, you decided to give a light grin instead. “Wanted to sleep beside you tonight. Heard you were warm.” That caused his face to heat up, as he fussed and grumbled about Izutsumi under his breath. Not able to hold back that laugh any longer, you giggled at his behavior before getting cozy in your own covers.

“Goodnight, Chilchuck.” You spoke softly, reaching out a hand to rub his back for a moment. Your touch was soft, cautious, and full of a need to feel him under your palms. Instead of complaining about your affections, you noticed his eyes begin to grow heavy. Stifling a yawn, he ran his fingers through his hair before saying your name. “‘Night.”

You’d willingly call yourself a hopeless romantic. Enjoying the time you spent by his side and the small touches you managed to give, of course you’d begin to crave more. It was no longer enough just to give his hand an occasional squeeze or a reassuring pat on his shoulder. You noticed you’d often daydream about what it’d be like to hold him, and soon enough, you couldn’t take it anymore.

One night, the half-foot seemed to be lost in thought. He stared at his hands in his lap, tuning out any voices chatting around him. Except, of course, your own.

“Chilchuck?” You called in that sweet tune that always made an appearance when it came to him. “You okay? You seem preoccupied.”

Sitting beside him, you waited until he gave a reply in that tired tone you had grown used to. “Just thinking.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped an arm around him, pulling him gently to you. The hug was brief, but enough to knock him out of his stupor and widen his eyes. When you let him go, you made sure that every little detail of his chest pressed against yours would remain in your memory.

“You looked like you needed a hug.”

And he did. He always did when it came to you. It was strange, but he began waiting for your touches, your hands intertwining with his, your gentle caresses when he struggled to sleep. Chilchuck cleared his throat, trying once again to ignore the slight feeling of pink rising in his cheeks. “…Thanks.”

It was strange just how much you were doing to him. It was obvious what your intentions were, yet he couldn’t seem to make himself turn you down. He wondered, with a small smile, just what you’d pull him into next.

“You seem to let them do anything, huh?” Marcille questioned him one day, the two of them walking ahead of the rest of the party. Chilchuck gave a light scoff in response, his hands resting behind his head as they usually did. At least, when they weren’t intertwined with yours.

“That’s not true and you know it.” It was Marcille’s turn to make a sound, a huff of unconvinced laughter leaving her lips. Rolling her eyes, she thought about all she could throw in his face to tell him otherwise.

The constant hand holding, the sleeping next to each other, the soft hugs you would give him anytime you could. You’d even offer to rub his back for him to help him get sleepy again, something he was growing more and more tempted to accept. Counting on her fingers as she listed all the offenses, Chilchuck grew increasingly more embarrassed. He managed to somehow hide into his neckwarmer, before barking out, “Ok, ok, enough! Alright, I get it. No need to be a smartass.”

Marcille was definitely proud of herself, wondering just how much of this would end up like one of her romance novels. Maybe what he needed was someone much more romantic then he was, a foil to his cynical character.

She felt herself grin.

Chilchuck could deny it, but many things about you made him soft. Your smile, the way it crinkled your eyes, the way it lit up a room like some sort of magic. It was almost too much to bear, yet like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards it.

Maybe your hopeless romanticism was beginning to rub off on him or something. Especially, as he finally tucked himself in for the night next to you, he still longed for your affection. You had somehow managed to captivate a man who felt he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, seek love again. You proved him wrong on countless occasions, and even as he felt his eyes begin to succumb to sleep, your voice called him home.

“Goodnight, Chilchuck.”

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <33