#upon being turned into a cat: you know those days when you're like this might as well happen

[evilfarmin]

kitty cat time with meowmine and nyakashi :3 🐱🐱🐱😺😺🐱🐱😺

[orionremastered]

Are there another part for shapeshifter golden tiger reader :D i appreciate your writing so much! 💕

I've gotten another ask regarding a shifter!reader, so Imma just pile em up into one big AU. Send more shifter requests to have them added to the list! Even outside of gotham with other dc heroes would be cool. Like they've all got connections with other shifters online or sumin

shifter gang

?

Masterlist

Part One

Golden Pt. 2

It's been a few days since you last saw the pair, and maybe you're okay with that. Nights have been quiet yet cold, and you're getting excited about the temperature change that comes with spring.

Night patrols have been close to uneventful; save a kid or two there, maul a criminal of two here- the usual, in other words.

You're expecting the usual again tonight, just quiet patrolling and nothing extreme-

Look, you haven't been here for long, okay? Optimism, got it?

You're on the prowl for a missing girl, one that the bats no doubt have on their radar too, but you never know- you might get to her first. You went to the apartment where she lives and are confident that you could pinpoint her on her scent alone.

It's been an hour or two since you started looking and finally, you catch a whiff of the little girl's scent. You draw closer to an abandoned building, sneaking through structures to hide from the unforgiving street lights that flicker, forgotten by the city.

You jump onto a dumpster and into a broken window above it, landing quietly on the dusty floorboards. You can hear crying and the little girl's scent gets stronger.

Someone snaps at her as you draw closer, creeping up the stairs to the second floor. Thankful that the floor doesn't creak, you continue through the corridor of apartments, the number of each room fading from their painted places upon doors.

The screaming gets louder until you stop at a door, slightly ajar. You nudge it open with your nose and- you've luck- it's silent too.

"Shut the fuck up, dammit, you'll-"

The man doesn't get much more out of his mouth before you pounce, toppling both of you to the floor. Your fangs lock around his wrist, making him cry out in pain as you reach for the gun in his hand and throw it to the farthest corner of the room.

"Get-"

You snarl, pushing a set of sharp claws into the top of his spine. He yells curses that one should not around a child.

The window shatters beside you and two figures gracefully land in the room, one larger and one smaller by the sound of the thuds. You turn your head to glare, teeth bared and gleaming before you realise it's Robin and Batman- the duo one only fears if they're a criminal in the light of justice.

The man continues screaming, but not after giving one threatening snarl, deeper than any other you ever have.

"Leave the rest of this to us," Robin says calmly, and you're certain you like him more than the brooding knight in the corner near the gun.

He's allergic to those things anyway, so it's not like you're worried.

You step off the man's back and slowly approach the girl. She scrambles back and you remember you have blood still on your fangs. Still, you lower your head and attempt to look as harmless as a big cat can.

You can't grin when she reaches out to pet your head in case she sees your bloodied teeth. Once she realises you won't do her any harm, she scratches your neck and ears. Purring, you nudge her gently and lower yourself to the floor.

She's small enough to climb onto your back without it being too much of a struggle to stand and walk- she must be only five. She giggles, eyes red with tears, but she finds comfort in the warmth of your fur.

"GCPD has been called," the Bat says, glaring down at the criminal. You and Robin do the same. "Would you like us to take the girl to a hospital?"

You raise your head to look at him and flash your fangs, a solid 'no'.

"Whatever you think is best," Robin says, the Bat looking at him with a stare only a father could give to his son. "But wait, before you go-"

Robin smooths the short furs of your head and scratches underneath your ear. It takes you by surprise at first, but you don't snarl or bare your fangs at him, so he continues until he feels as though his father's glare has gone on long enough. "I told my siblings I'd pat you first. It's a bet, the only one I have participated in so far-" Batman snorts- "And I have won. As expected, I have succeeded."

You make a sound of amusement.

"Perhaps we shall work together again," the older of the two says. You huff, knowing you did all of this yourself, but nod anyway.

Perhaps it's time to make some friends -ones that aren't drowning in coffee and assignments, anyway.

Taglist: @veunho, @chevysstuffs, @carewerff, @xxrougefangxx, @yorkeylover

[novaursa]

Hi Novaursa! I just saw that you're taking request. Your writing is beyond awesome and I'm wondering if I can make a request with Gwayne Hightower and Female Reader? The two decided to marry in secret when the reader's parents arrange her for another man? Bonus point if they get to have a short happy marriage before Gwayne leaves for King's Landing (and we know what awaits him there T-T)?

I might have mentioned it before but I love your writing! ^^

A Rose in Oldtown

- Summary: Gwayne steals a rose and allows it to grow strong in Oldtown.

- Paring: tyrell!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- A/N: I had something similar laying around on my hard drive. It was not for tyrell!reader, but I've used its bones for structure and it needed pretty little rewriting. This is why this is posted so soon. And yeah, I'm manic sometimes when it comes to writing. When I have an idea I can't sleep until it's done. Or do anything else basically. If I don't respond to your ask after a few days, then I'm probably starting from scratch. @justdillydally I hope you enjoy this as you did my other works. ❤️

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 3 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

You stand at the front of the Sept, dressed in the finest gown Highgarden could offer—an emerald green masterpiece embroidered with golden roses, the petals dusted with delicate pearls that shimmer in the dim candlelight. The sleeves are long and sheer, allowing glimpses of your skin beneath, while the bodice is cinched tightly, enhancing every curve. The skirt flows like a river of green silk, the fabric whispering with every breath you take. A golden rose sits in your hair, nestled among the intricate braids that frame your face. It’s a gown fit for a queen, but today it feels more like a cage.

The air is thick with anticipation, the weight of tradition pressing down on your chest. House Lannister’s colors dominate the sept, crimson banners emblazoned with golden lions hanging from every pillar. They seem to mock you, roaring silently, a reminder of the fate being forced upon you. Your father stands beside you, his expression unreadable, yet you can feel the iron grip of his expectations.

“Remember your duty,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding.

But duty is the last thing on your mind. Your heart is hammering, but not for the man who waits for you at the altar. Jason Lannister stands there with a smug smile, eyes gleaming like a cat eyeing prey. You should feel fear—discomfort, even—but all you feel is anger and longing. 

Your gaze drifts past him, searching the shadows of the crowded sept for a pair of familiar gray eyes. You know Gwayne is near, can sense him even if you can’t yet see him. He promised you. He promised he’d come.

The sept doors creak open, and a gust of wind rushes in, carrying the salty tang of the nearby sea. For a heartbeat, the ceremony halts, heads turning toward the disturbance. There, at the threshold, stands Gwayne Hightower, clad in green leather riding armor, a stark contrast to the opulence around him. His hair is tousled from the wind, a few unruly strands falling into those piercing eyes that hold yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

“Are you truly going to allow this travesty to unfold?” His voice echoes through the sept, defiant and laced with a challenge. The guests murmur in shock, eyes wide as they shift between the Lannisters and Hightower.

“Gwayne,” you breathe, relief and something wilder, more reckless, surging in your chest.

Your father bristles, stepping forward as if to block the path between you and Gwayne. “You have no place here, Hightower! You disgrace your house with this insolence!”

But Gwayne’s gaze never wavers from you. There’s a promise in his eyes, a question. And deep down, you already know your answer.

“Disgrace?” Gwayne laughs, sharp and mocking. “The only disgrace is forcing a woman to marry a man she doesn’t love. Let her choose.” He extends a hand toward you, daring you to defy every expectation, every command that’s been drilled into you since birth.

Your breath catches in your throat. The world seems to narrow to this single moment—the choice between duty and desire, between a life of cold gold and a life of burning passion. The rose on your head suddenly feels heavy, a symbol of everything you stand to lose if you step toward him. But the thought of losing Gwayne is a pain sharper than any blade.

“Your duty is to your house,” your father snaps, gripping your arm. His fingers dig into your flesh, as if he can keep you there by force.

“Is it?” you whisper, meeting his gaze. “Or is my duty to myself?” With a sudden, fierce resolve, you tear your arm free, the embroidered fabric of your sleeve ripping in the process. The soft sound is like the tearing of bonds that have held you for too long.

The tension breaks like a thunderclap. You lift your skirts and run, the long train of your gown dragging behind you like the last vestiges of your old life. Gwayne doesn’t hesitate. He rushes forward, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a tight embrace as you reach him. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath the leather armor, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You nod, breathless. “I was ready the moment I saw you.”

With that, he pulls you toward the doors, toward freedom. The guests shout in outrage, your father’s curses mixing with the indignant roars of the Lannisters. But you don’t care. All you can think about is the wind in your hair and the warmth of Gwayne’s hand in yours as you both burst out into the sunlight.

Two horses stand waiting, saddled and ready. Without another word, Gwayne lifts you onto one, his touch gentle but urgent. He mounts his own horse in a single fluid motion and turns to you, his eyes blazing with determination. “We ride to Oldtown. There, we’ll be married by nightfall.”

Your heart swells at his words. There is no more doubt, no more hesitation. Only the thrill of running toward a future you chose for yourself. You share one last glance, and then together, you kick your horses into a gallop, racing away from the sept, from duty, from everything that sought to bind you.

The road ahead is rough, the path winding and treacherous, but with Gwayne at your side, it feels like the smoothest ride of your life. The wind whips your hair, tangling it with the remnants of your torn veil, but you laugh—a wild, unrestrained sound that echoes over the hills.

“This is madness,” you shout to him over the pounding hooves, but there’s pure joy in your voice.

“Madness is letting you go,” he replies, a grin splitting his face. He reaches over, his fingers brushing yours as you ride side by side. It’s a touch full of unspoken promises and a future yet to be written.

By the time you reach Oldtown, the sky is painted in hues of dusk, the Hightower looming over the horizon like a beacon guiding you both home. Gwayne helps you down from your horse, and you’re both breathless, flushed from the ride. He pauses, holding you close for a moment longer than necessary, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll never let anyone take you from me,” he whispers, fierce and possessive, but laced with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Good,” you reply, your voice steady and sure. “Because I won’t let you go either.”

Hand in hand, you enter the modest sept in the shadow of the Hightower. The ceremony is simple, witnessed only by a few loyal friends, but it is perfect. When Gwayne says his vows, his voice is low and rough, thick with emotion. And when you pledge yourself to him, it’s with a heart so full it feels like it might burst.

As the septon pronounces you husband and wife, Gwayne leans in to kiss you, a fierce, claiming kiss that seals your fates together. In that moment, you know that no matter what battles lie ahead, no matter who might seek to tear you apart, you have already won the greatest victory: a life lived on your own terms, with the man you chose.

Life in Oldtown is a far cry from the rigid splendor of Highgarden or the bustling grandeur of King’s Landing. The Hightower looms majestically above the city, its walls steeped in history and tradition. You’ve come to love its winding corridors, the serene gardens tucked away behind ancient stone walls, and the way the sea breeze carries the scent of salt and lavender through the open windows. It’s become your home—a place where you and Gwayne have carved out a life filled with laughter, warmth, and stolen moments of happiness.

This morning is bright and pleasant, the sun spilling golden light across the gardens where you sit with Prince Daeron. The young Targaryen, with his silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, is a delight—sharp-witted and full of curiosity, yet with the unmistakable earnestness of youth. He often seeks your company, and you’ve grown fond of the boy, finding comfort in his easy laughter and unguarded conversations. Today, the two of you are seated beneath a blossoming magnolia tree, playing a game of cyvasse, though it’s clear Daeron is far more interested in the tales you’ve been telling him about the Reach.

“And is it true,” Daeron asks, eyes alight with fascination, “that the fields near Highgarden stretch as far as the eye can see? Nothing but green and gold?”

You smile at the eagerness in his voice. “Aye, and in summer, the air is thick with the scent of roses. The orchards are heavy with fruit, and the rivers run clear and cool. It’s as close to paradise as one might find in Westeros.”

Daeron leans closer, resting his chin on his hand. “You make it sound like a dream. Perhaps one day, I’ll see it with my own eyes.”

“Perhaps,” you say, though there’s a touch of melancholy in your tone. “But Oldtown has its own beauty, Daeron. Have you grown fond of it?”

He nods, a thoughtful expression passing over his young face. “I have. But it’s different—quieter, more… ancient. The Hightower has secrets, I think, buried deep beneath its stones.”

Before you can reply, you notice Gwayne approaching from across the garden. He’s dressed in simple but well-made clothing, his sword strapped to his side as always. When he sees you with Daeron, a warm smile lights up his face, and your heart skips a beat as it always does when you see him. Even after all this time, the love between you remains as fierce and tender as it was the day he stole you away.

“Prince Daeron,” Gwayne greets the boy with a respectful nod, though his gaze lingers on you, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I hope you’ve been kind to my wife and haven’t defeated her too soundly at cyvasse.”

Daeron grins, shaking his head. “She’s a worthy opponent, Ser Gwayne. I’ve yet to best her.”

Gwayne chuckles, but then his tone softens as he turns to you. “My love, would you join me for a walk? There’s something I wish to show you.”

Your curiosity piqued, you glance at Daeron, who waves you away with a knowing smile. “Go on, my lady. I’ll study my strategy for our next match.”

You rise, smoothing the folds of your gown as Gwayne offers you his arm. As the two of you walk through the garden, you feel the familiar comfort of his presence, the way his strength grounds you, even in the quietest of moments. You follow him deeper into the garden, past the flowering hedges and beneath the shadow of the towering walls, until you reach a secluded corner where a stone bench sits nestled between climbing roses.

“Here,” Gwayne says softly, guiding you to sit. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground, and the air hums with the song of distant birds.

“What is it you wished to show me?” you ask, though your voice is gentle, already sensing that this moment is less about revealing something new and more about being together, away from the prying eyes of court and the endless duties that come with your position.

Gwayne’s smile is tender as he sits beside you, taking your hand in his. “Nothing but this—just us, here, away from everything. I’ve been wanting a moment alone with you all day.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a familiar and intimate gesture that never fails to send warmth curling through your chest. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you, the quiet rustle of leaves, and the scent of roses hanging in the air.

“You spend so much time caring for others—Daeron, the household, the people who come to us with their troubles. I sometimes wonder if you’ve time left for yourself,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “How could I want for anything when I have you? You’re all I need, Gwayne. You always have been.”

His eyes darken with affection, and he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers. “And you, my sweet rose, are more than I ever dreamed of. I often think of the day we ran away together—how reckless it was, how mad we must’ve seemed. And yet, here we are. You, the light in my life, and me, foolishly in love with you every day more than the last.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that makes your heart swell. You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. For a long while, neither of you speaks, content simply to be in each other’s presence, surrounded by the peaceful solitude of the garden.

Eventually, Gwayne shifts, turning so he can cradle your face in his hands. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he’s memorizing every line, every freckle and feature. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and there’s a rawness in his voice, a depth of feeling that makes your breath catch.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “And you are everything I never knew I needed.”

He leans in slowly, giving you time to close the distance, and when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, tender, and full of unspoken promises. The kiss deepens gradually, a slow, deliberate connection that speaks of love and trust and a desire that never quite fades. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, so close it matches your own.

“This,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, “this is all I want. A life with you, here, in our little world, where no one can touch us.”

You smile, closing your eyes and savoring the closeness, the warmth of him against you. “And you have it, Gwayne.”

The room is bathed in the soft light of dawn, the golden hues filtering through the gauzy curtains and casting a warm glow across the bed. The linens are tangled beneath you, a reminder of the night spent wrapped in each other’s embrace. Gwayne lies beside you, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve and feature. The air is thick with the scent of roses, mingled with the salt from the sea breeze wafting through the open window. 

His fingers trace idle patterns along your bare shoulder, lingering on the curve of your neck, then down to your chest before they rest on the gentle swell of your abdomen. You place your hand over his, and he looks at you with a mixture of longing and regret. It’s in his eyes, in the way his thumb absently strokes your skin as if he can’t bear the thought of leaving you.

“I wish I could stay,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep and emotion. “It kills me to think I won’t be here when our child is born.”

You close your eyes against the sting of tears, fighting the lump in your throat. “I wish you could stay too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I know you must go. Aegon’s summons cannot be ignored, and you have always been loyal to your family. I understand that.”

Gwayne leans down, brushing his lips softly against your temple before moving lower, trailing kisses down your cheek and jaw. His lips linger at the curve of your belly, reverently pressing a kiss to the slight bump that holds your child—the child he might not meet for months, perhaps longer. The touch is tender, filled with all the love and unspoken vows he cannot put into words. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he murmurs, “I’ll be back before you know it, my love. I swear it.”

You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, holding him close. “You can’t promise that,” you say, your voice trembling despite your attempt to stay strong. “King’s Landing is dangerous, especially now, with the realm so divided. What if—”

Gwayne lifts his head, cutting you off with a kiss—deep, slow, filled with a desperation that echoes the ache in your chest. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back the fear he won’t speak aloud.

“No ‘what ifs,’” he says firmly, though there’s a faint tremor in his voice. “I’ll do everything in my power to return to you and our child. This is my life—you are my life. Nothing will keep me from you.”

You nod, blinking away tears that threaten to spill. “I want to believe that.”

“Then believe it,” he whispers, cupping your face and wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Hold onto that hope. I’ll need it as much as you do while I’m away.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply hold each other, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and the bittersweet reality of this impending separation. You can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your palm, and it takes everything in you not to beg him to stay, to forsake the king’s orders and remain here, safe, with you.

But you know Gwayne, and you know his sense of duty runs as deep as his love. He would never forgive himself if he abandoned his responsibilities, even for the sake of his own happiness. And so, you do not say the words that claw at the back of your throat. Instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent—earthy and familiar, a comfort you’ll cling to in the lonely nights ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, Gwayne gently disentangles himself from your embrace, rising from the bed and beginning to dress in silence. The rustle of fabric and the soft clink of his belt buckle are the only sounds in the room. You watch him as he fastens his sword to his side, his expression distant, already steeling himself for the journey ahead.

When he’s fully dressed, he turns back to you, his eyes softening as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and kneels beside the bed, taking your hand in his. “I’ll write as soon as I reach King’s Landing. And every chance I get, I’ll send word to you. I want to know everything—how you’re feeling, how the babe is growing… Everything.”

You nod, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’ll write too. I’ll tell you of every little thing, so you don’t feel too far away from us.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in one last kiss—sweet and tender, a promise sealed between you. When he finally pulls away, it’s with a sigh that speaks of reluctance, of the struggle to let go.

“Take care of yourself and our little one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be counting the days until I’m back in your arms.”

You manage a small smile, though your heart is breaking at the thought of watching him walk out that door. “And we’ll be counting the days until we see you again. Ride swiftly, and come back to us.”

With one last lingering touch, he rises, and then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, an emptiness settling over you like a heavy cloak. You press a hand to your belly, imagining the life growing within, and whisper softly, “Your father will come back to us. He must.”

But even as you say the words, a chill runs down your spine. All you can do now is wait, and hope that the gods are merciful enough to bring him back home—where he belongs, where all of your love and dreams are waiting for him.

The morning light spills across the bed, but it feels colder now, as if the warmth of his presence has been stripped away. You lie back against the pillows, closing your eyes and letting the memories of his touch, his voice, his promises fill the emptiness, holding onto them with every fiber of your being.

You whisper a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they listen, hoping they understand that your love is worth returning.

[bl0rbohandbag]

– some vampire the masquerade x changeling the lost concepts that will not leave me alone.

"but vtm and ctl are from different settings–" shhhhhh :)

— part 2.

before i begin: i have been dabbling in vampire the masquerade and changeling the lost content for a while, i am not a fan of changeling the dreaming and vampire the requiem is unfamiliar to me. anyway! buckle up, enjoy the ride, this is kind of long.

trigger warning for abuse/unhealthy parental relationships because vamps i guess.

first of all: i recently read vtm: bloodstained love. while it focus on the more romantic and sexual aspects of kindred relationships with a lot of references to obsessive/posessive behavior and grotesque acts of love, it also made me wonder how those would translate to platonic or familial relationships. add some changeling shenanigans to that and we have some interesting concepts to play with! and with that being said...

– you're a changeling. kidnapped into arcadia and trapped there for who knows how long. in your durance, you dream of going back home, of reuniting with your friends and family, escaping your keeper to finally, finally enjoy freedom in the world you were born in.

– and one day, you do escape. back into your world, never feeling completely safe with your keeper looking to get you back and huntsmen being a very real threat, but you're ready to rebuild your life and enjoy your newfound freedom.

– there are various mentions throughout the ctl books on how unsuspecting or heedless changelings might have their freedom stolen again, this time by kindred. so, as it turns out, you'll have to deal with creatures other than the true fae who are more than willing to keep you caged!

the angst potential in a changeling reuniting with ther parent(s) only to find out they've become something inhuman, and not all that different from their keeper is unmatched.

maybe you watch them from a distance first. maybe you excitedly seek them out. maybe you just randomly bump into your parent by complete chance, after presuming them dead or deciding to abandon your old life. maybe they find you.

but the point is: they're kindred. so different from when you last saw them, as a teenager, as a child, before you were taken. as if having huntsmen and your keeper after you wasn't trying enough, a vampire parent comes (back) into your life to make it even more complicated.

a ventrue dad will make his ghouls your bodyguards, following you day and night. it makes you insanely uncomfortable, as you liken them to changelings serving true fae back in arcadia. he says it's because of his own dangerous kindred affairs that might affect you, but after an unplesant encounter with the huntsmen he might just decide you shouldn't be out and about at all.

your parent is either a neonate or an ancilla by the time your return from arcadia. your fetch is dead for whatever reason, expired, after living a life in your stead, automatically making the vampire believe their child is dead– now imagine their surprise and confusion when they see you– real you, living and breathing. and maybe you're distraught, too, seeing that they haven't aged a day or should, depeding on how long you've been gone, be most definetly dead.

(this is absolutely NOT going to send the vampire parent into a mental breakdown and spiral into obsession upon discovering the child they have lost and buried was literally a soulless copy of their real child who got kidnapped by faeries. a clone made out of twigs and a cat's eyes that stole their child's place and they never noticed. everything is just fine. it does not them affect them mentally at all :3)

(bonus points if the fetch was killed by the vampire parent's enemies after being entagled in their mess. they feel like they are getting a second chance and will absolutely not screw it up! cue you, poor changeling, being locked away or put under heavy surveillance.)

on the other hand, a kindred parent who currently has a living fetch of their child just being EXTREMELY distraught when they keep spotting someone who looks exactly like their kid at random places they definetly shouldn't be at is very funny and kind of unsettling!

(a vampire mom just feeding on mortals at the club, socializing with other kindred, perhaps dealing with some unresolved issues with her sire, etc. Then she spots you, her real kid, unbeknownst to her, just chilling, among all those dangerous vampires, when you're supposed to be in your dorm room at least a thousand miles from there. she calls the fetch's phone, expecting you to pick up and start explaining yourself. your fetch answers the phone, talks to her, sleep-drunk and confused as to why she's calling so late, but the person she's looking at has made no motion at all. they're not talking. they have not picked up the phone. but that's her kid's face, she's sure. what the fuck?)

for low-humanity ancillae/elder kindred, having their child back might bring about long-forgotten mortal feelings of genuine parental love, although they might express in the very unorthodox way kindred would. they simply do not understand why their child does not want to be around them. they just want to bond with you and keep you safe where kindred and fae can't get to you, make up for lost time. what do you mean they're "just like your keeeper"?

i think a lot of kindred parents will leave you be, mostly brujah or gangrel, knowing you'll be safer if they keep you away from their world. provided there was no fetch to replace you, they think it's amazing enough you were found alive and well after years of being a missing person. you don't like talking about what happened in your... "durance"... fine, they'll keep the investigators off your back, too. they might not even know you're no longer human. but they are going to check on you once in a while, or keep tabs on you, or even have some of their people watch you from a distance. just to make sure.

(just don't let them catch wind of all the changeling shenanigans or huntsmen attacks on your person. that might just change their mind...)

kindred parents might believe you're safer away from their world, yes, but they can just as easily bring you into the mess of kindred society without a second thought.

not very fun being a fairest when your toreador mother insists you show your mien to impress her fellow clan mates and other kindred with your overwhelming beauty. she's always been a pageant mom, so this shouldn't surprise you. there's several layers of wrongness to this, from having your changeling identity exposed to multiple vampires to further your mother's social status to this very situation bringing back so many unpleasant memories from your durance, and it's bound to end badly.

(the toreador pageant mom could very easily be a nosferatu pageant mom, a cleopatra now living vicariously through your fae-given beauty.)

(she will realize how terrible a mistake that was when vampires start really paying attention to you. or not. who knows.)

(gifts that could easily have come from a true fae lord start pouring in. letters written in excessive passion, bouquets of bloody roses, dresses made out of human skin, all delivered by equally dazed-looking ghouls. perhaps your mother will know, then, she fucked up severely. or maybe she'll just tell you to be grateful for those wonderful gifts.)

on another hand, a nosferatu parent taking one look at their fairest child's mien and deciding "oh. no kindred can see you like. ever. stay away from toreador specifically". you don't know what a toreador is, but you'll try to heed the advice.

your ancilla mother meets your motley and proceeds to show them baby pictures of you, taken in the 1870s shortly before your abduction to Faerie. they are very well preserved and you look most proper in your little sailor outfit.

you have a beast/ogre seeming and your gangrel parent thinks you're pretty rad :) you go hunting together.

your tzimisce dad has living furniture made out of human skin, but it's nothing you haven't seen in arcadia before. he's a little disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm, and very offended when you tell him your keeper had better taste in couches. trying to evade a tzimisce dad after he's been made aware of your existence is a difficult task, and you will get caught and held captive at one point (for your safety, of course!). if there is a fetch currently living your life, they will be immediately killed or horribly tortured (read: vicissitude) for the crime of decieving the tzimisce and impersonating you, regardless of you already having decided to leave said fetch alone.

(tzimisce dad thinks you should be thankful. he dealt with the imposter. shouldn't you be happy?)

(if he’s got cash and has some land within his domain to spare, he might let you build a little home not too far from his own to give you a semblance of independence to try and settle you down. might.)

(on the other hand, you have the chance to become a really good escape artist. take your time in captivity with your tzimisce dad to practice your escaping and running away skills, after all, every good changeling needs it! you also get the bonus of reliving your childhood/teenagehood with all the sneaking out.)

(quick intermission: all of these concepts might result in low-clarity for the changeling?? i'm not too sure how clarity damage works yet.

update: it absolutely might!)

your malkavian mother thinks she's plagued with visions of her missing child, glimpses of what they might look nowadays, wherever they are. this is actually you, visiting her in her dreams through oneiromancy.

(everyone thought, back then, that it was just a scare. you wandered into the forest and for ten hours people searched for you, only to find you safe and sound, without a scratch in your body or a speck of dirt in your shoes hours later. but she knew better. she knew that wasn't really you. it haunted her for the rest of her life, and it haunts her unlife even now. she never made it to the hedge.)

you can't take your tremere parent ANYWHERE. you give in after endless nagging and take them to a goblin market, but their arrogance will get them roped into terrible deals if you don't keep your eyes on them full time. you do take this as an opportunity to show off your changeling capabilities. you're in your element.

(you also drop life-altering bits of Faerie lore at random or inappropriate times. it sends them spiraling. you just hope they won't share it with anyone...)

darkling changeling just chilling with their nosferatu dad in the sewers, sharing rats.

and that's all for today, folks.

[yallemagne]

JACK YOU'RE FUCKING SCARING ME. Holy goddamn shit like dude. DUDE!!

He gave many flies to one spider and many spiders to one bird, and then wanted a cat to eat the many birds. What would have been his later steps? It would almost be worthwhile to complete the experiment. It might be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men sneered at vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day! Why not advance science in its most difficult and vital aspect—the knowledge of the brain? Had I even the secret of one such mind—did I hold the key to the fancy of even one lunatic—I might advance my own branch of science to a pitch compared with which Burdon-Sanderson's physiology or Ferrier's brain-knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a sufficient cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, congenitally? How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives? To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work! If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there—a good, unselfish cause to make me work—that would be indeed happiness.

I just gotta throw all this down here. I cannot cope with how much Jack sounds like he's having his Joker moment. You know how every adaptation of Frankenstein and J&H is like "he was a visionary that went against the board to do the impossible for glory" (which, mind you, didn't even happen in those books)... but imagine if that turn was taken here...

Jonathan Sims manages to make Jack sound like he's almost completely on board with letting Renfield manufacture his food chain up to the point he would begin consuming humans. Not only is he saying: "If there were a good cause to experimenting on Renfield, only then would I do it" he is crying to the heavens: "Oh! Let there be a good cause!" Sir, please, I can't defend you when the authorities come and arrest you for acting upon your thoughts of grandeur. Thank god he does not have a good cause.

AND THE CHILLS!! THe CHILLS WHEN HE MENTIONS LUCY. Specifically in the context of, "Well, she was my one hope. With no wife, I only have my work to attend to... Work being obsessing heavily over this old man and fantasizing about letting him eat me." His tone of voice does NOT change he continues in his maniacal tone. Sounds like a saddened "Oh Lucy... you'll be one of the ones I spare in my pursuit of world domination" rather than... normal sadness over being rejected.

In the wake of this... I kinda wanna post about an AU I thought about a while back.

[viscerax]

You asked for requests, soooooo I am going to give you two!

Jam reunion or Jay gets eeby deebied back in time after he died, you choose when

Go crazy!!!

Reunion

Tim stares out the window while his hands absent-mindedly fidget with Jay's old camera. It had been awhile since he needed to use it. Who's counting?

Tim was. It had been 457 days since Jay died. Tim never moved away. He wanted to so badly, but it turns out being a minimum wage stock clerk doesn't exactly provide him with enough funds to move out. So he's stuck in that miserable house, with those miserable memories, and that miserable feeling in his gut.

He was tempted to sell Jay's camera, get some extra cash. But he couldn't. Anytime he opened Craigslist or e-bay, he stared at the web page for a moment before closing it. He couldn't bring himself to do it. The camera was the last proof that any of it happened, its scuffed edges and cracked lens. Without it, he might as well have just been crazy. No one else believed him. He knew damn well telling his therapist would just land him in another facility and numbed up on so many meds that he probably wouldn't even be able to remember his own name. He's been through that, and he wasn't going to do it again.

He sighs, setting the camera down again. He's about to get up when he feels something rub against his leg. He flinched a bit, looking down and finding a furry face staring back up at him, his new cat, affectionately named "Jay". He reached down, scratching her chin and earning a satisfied purr. It wasn't much, it certainly wasn't a replacement for Jay, but it was better than nothing.

He pulls his hand away, earning a needy chirp from the feline. Tim sighs, standing up with a grunt. "I know, i know. You're hungry, I get it." Tim makes his way to his kitchen, reaching up to the top cabinet and grabbing a bag of kibble for the feline.

He's standing on his tiptoes, and curses himself for putting the bag so out of reach. Normally he'd keep it on the floor, but he learned very quickly that wasn't an option with Jay, lest he wishes that she tear the bag open and feast upon it's contents in a single night.

He has the bag just barely pinched in his fingers and dragging it over the edge, when a sudden barrage of knocking at his front door catches him off guard, and the bag comes falling down, spilling open over his head.

"God damnit!" He shouts, allowing the now half-empty bag to fall to the floor. He turns to his cat, eyeing the pile with a look that could only be described as gluttony. "Jay, don't you fucking dare." He mutters to the cat, before picking the bits of cat food from his hair and off the front of his shirt.

"Just a moment!" He shouts to whoever is knocking at the door as he does his best to shake the kibble from the inside of his shirt.

"Tim?"

Tim freezes at the voice. He thinks its got to be another auditory hallucination. After all, there was no way it was him. He saw Jay's dead body. He buried him himself in the woods, mainly because no one else even knew who "Jay" was. His parents said they only had a daughter, not a son named Jay.

Except, it can't be a hallucination, because it catches his cat's attention too.

Tim takes a shaking breath. Maybe he just heard it wrong. Maybe it was just the mail man. Or a neighbor. Or one of those missionaries. Yes, that must be it.

Still, he trudged towards the door, hand shaking as he reaches for the knob. What if it's the Operator, back again. Playing tricks on him?

Tim slowly unlocks the door, slowly turning the door knob. He squeezes his eyes shut, not worrying about how he might look crazy to whoever is on the other side.

"Tim? Timothy?" The voice is there again. Tim can't take it anymore. He opens his eyes. He sees both his best dream and worst nightmare.

Jay Merrick standing at his doorstep.

He wants to speak, move, but he can't. He doesn't know what to do. Jay, Really Jay, is standing there, staring at Tim like he was the walking corpse.

"Tim, oh my god." Jay breaks the silence, and Tim can't stop the choked sob that spills past his lips. He almost falls forward, but catches himself on the doorframe. Jay flinched back a bit, and he can't tell if Tim is still angry or not. Not like he would blame him.

"Tim I didn't- im sorry- I don't know what I was doing and-" Jay starts rambling, tripping over his words and fidgeting with his trembling hands.

Jay almost topples over when suddenly a very heavy weight is crashing against him. But he doesn't fall. Instead, he's enveloped in warm, trembling arms. Tim is hugging him, and Jay is practically stunned.

"I know, Jay. I... I saw the entry. I-" his words are choked off by another sob as squeezes Jay again. "Y-you're here. Y-you can't be. You're not real." Tim is trembling, face buried in Jay's neck. Jay doesn't know what to do, so he just follows Tim's actions, wrapping his own lanky arms around Tim and trying to comfort him.

"I'm... yeah. I'm here. I'm real. I promise." Jay mumbles, a hand tentatively reaching up and petting Tim's hair.

"Jay... I... I buried you, though. I- how are you- I don't get it." Tim rambles as he reluctantly pulls away, partly worried that he'd crush the man if he squeezed him for any longer.

"I don't... I don't know. And for once I don't think I want to find out." Jay lets out an awkward chuckle, and the statement earns a snort from Tim.

"Well thats a first." He takes a step to the side, allowing Jay in. He tries to catch his breath, trying to wipe away his tears but they just keep coming and he can't stop them. This had been the most he cried in... ever. Even during the whole Operator fiasco, he never really shed any tears. He felt emotionally blocked up, and now they were all flowing out of him like a broken dam.

"Tim... I... I missed you- I'm sorry for... coming back and drudging this all up again but I- I couldn't- i didn't know who else to go to and-"

Tim practically slaps a hand over his mouth. "Stop apologizing. I- I want you here, I-" he takes a deep breath, and more tears are spilling again. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again. "For years, I couldn't even shed a tear. And then you showed up. All these emotions that I haven't had a chance to experience or didn't realize I had all came out at once because of you." Tim takes a deep breath, swallowing and hoping it will make speech easier, but it doesn't. His voice still trembles. "I can't stop crying, I'm sorry." He lets out a sarcastic laugh, to which Jay just reaches a hand up and wiped away the tears before cupping Tim's stubbley face in his hands.

Tim had been so numb since Jay's death. He'd been... sad, sure. But he had been doing so good at shoving it all down, focusing on other things and eventually drowning out the world-shattering sadness that was currently flowing out of him like a river. He couldnt stop it now. He couldn't drown it out or focus on anything else because Jay was right there, staring down at him with those big sad eyes, and speaking to him with those cracked lips that Tim sometimes wished would just shut up and kiss him.

"Tim... I... I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd- I don't want you to cry. I'm sorry... shit, I-" his words are interrupted by Tim's lips crashing into his with a kind of ferocity he could only expect from the man.

Tim wasn't thinking straight. So many emotions and chemicals swimming around in his brain is what caused him to do this. He's about to pull away and profusely apologize him for his irrational activity, but Jay is kissing him back and holy shit, Tim doesn't think he could pull away if he wanted to with the way Jay is practically clawing to hold onto him. They're both trying to prove to themselves that this is real, and that this is really happening and that it's not just some dream.

Reluctantly, they pull away, damn the need for air. They stay in silence for a moment before Tim finally breaks it.

"Please... please stay. Just for a while." Tim hates how desperate he sounds but he can't bring himself to change it because he is. He's so desperate for Jay to stay that he can't bring himself to be angry at him in any way.

"I will never leave you behind again, if you'll have me." Its a promise, a promise that means so much to the both of them. Tim is so used to people running once they see all of him. Once they get past his bitchy exterior, once they see the sad man that he is. But Jay's seen it all. He knows so much more about Tim then most. And yet he's staying.

Tim answers him with another kiss, albeit shorter than the last. He pulls away and just holds Jay, hands roaming over his back, to his waist, and up and down his arms, still trying to lock in the fact that Jay us really there.

"Mrowww?" The two men are broken apart as their attention falls to a very needy feline.

Tim sighs and picks the cat up, holding her gently and allowing Jay to pet her.

"What's her name?" Jay looks back to Tim, still scratching behind the ears of the purring feline.

Tim panics. Surely it's not... normal to name your cat after your dead "best friend." But, Tim can't think of any creative lie in the moment, so with a defeated sigh, he mumbles his confession.

"I named her... Jay. After you. It was uhm, a recommendation from my therapist. She was supposed to be a therapy pet, but really she mostly just takes up most of my money and attention." He complains about the cat, although its clear from his tone that he doesn't really mean it. The cat means a lot to him, even if he's too stubborn to admit it.

"That's... cute." Jay chuckles, and Tim would give anything he had to make sure he hears that laugh again, even if it's at the expense of his own embarrassment.

"Yeah, whatever." Tim mutters, which only earns another chuckle from Jay. Tim thinks he's going to die from embarrassment, and very quickly sets the cat down, deciding to change the subject. "I have to uhm, clean up a mess, that she made earlier. Before she eats all of it."

Jay is a bit confused, until he looks over Tim's shoulder and sees cat food spilled all over the floor. He giggles and follows behind Tim, helping him clean it up, despite the others protest.

They're both so tired by the time they're done cleaning. It's not like it was a very difficult task, but Tim's pretty sure he's just worn out from the emotional Rollercoaster. He barely makes it to the bed, and tries to opt for passing out on the couch, but Jay practically drags him away to his bedroom, forcing him to lay down.

Jay is about to turn and take refuge on the couch, but Tim grabs his wrist.

"Don't leave. Please. Just for tonight. We can get you a bed tommorow." Tim groggily requests, and who is Jy to deny him, especially when he's looking up at him with those wide eyes that Jay adores.

Jay kicks off his shoes and crawls in next to Tim, relishing in the way he's practically enveloped in warmth.

"I love you. Welcome home, Jaybird." Tim sleepily mumbles into his neck.

Home. Jay hadn't had a home in so long, and he thinks he wouldn't mind if his home was Tim.

[carpexdiemm05]

Never After (SGE x Reader) - Chapter 1

Also read on Wattpad!

Foreword

Just a quick A/N before you get started:

1. This story is NOT edited as of January 2023

2. I don't own SGE plot or characters

3. Some lore is used from Lost Boy by Christina Henry

4. Description is taken straight from Soman Chainani's work

5. Will be based on SGE books 1-6

6. Characters are aged up to 18+

Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tonight, the children of Gavaldon writhed in their beds. Each knew that if the School Master took them, they'd never return. Never lead a full life. Never see their family again. Tonight, the children of Gavaldon dreamed of a red-eyed thief with the body of a beast, come to rip them from their sheets and stifle their screams.

Not that I cared. I was indifferent to the whole thing. In my eyes, it was simple—those taken had the ability to transform their lives into ones worthy of the fairy tales we readers devour here in Gavaldon. And if they didn't, well, that was on them. The School for Good and Evil was just another opportunity for some. Fate was what you made it.

I inhaled deeply. From my position on the roof, I could feel the morning breeze much clearer than had I been sitting on the ground instead. I always liked being in high places. It made me feel relaxed. Detached from the rest of the world. Free, even.

My nose scrunched when aromas of rose and cucumber curled beneath it. A glance at the cemetery gates revealed Sophie, dressed in pink like always, pushing them open. She made her way across the dark tombstones and decaying branches that decorated Graves Hill until she reached the porch steps.

It was then that I slid off the roof, landing right in front of the girl.

She screamed and stumbled backwards. Upon hearing my laugh, however, she regained her composure and scowled. "Y/n."

I shrugged, grinning. "Sorry."

She sighed and brushed imaginary dirt from the front of her dress with one hand, the other clutching a basket. "Is Aggie home?"

"Yes, Agatha is inside," I said pointedly.

Reaper chose this moment to slink across the front porch, stopping right at the doormat. Sophie shrank back.

I rolled my eyes and lightly kicked him along. "Move, cat. You're in our way." After I had a clear path, I rapped on the door.

"Go away," came a gruff voice.

"Agatha, it's me."

"Oh. Sorry. I thought it was Sophie coming by for another visit." The door swung open, revealing a girl with a dome of black hair in a hulking black dress. Her bulging ladybug eyes narrowed when she spotted the blonde behind me.

"And you would be correct," I said, smiling bitterly.

I never really. . .liked Sophie. I didn't dislike her, really, either. She was just rather annoying sometimes. When I was in her company, more often than not I found myself subject to complaints of anything and everything.

Some might call me insane, but I preferred being around Agatha. She didn't talk of shallow things and, when you got to know her, you'd find her to be quite funny.

Besides, I was around her all day, what with me being her adoptive sister and all. I didn't really know much about myself besides what Callis told me—I was left on her doorstep as a baby with a note telling her my name and nothing else.

The click of Sophie's heels dragged me back to the present. "I thought we'd all go for a walk," she said.

Agatha leaned against the door. "I'm still trying to figure out why you're friends with us."

"Because you're both sweet and funny."

"My mother says Y/n's bitter and I'm grumpy," said Agatha, "So one of you is lying."

She reached into Sophie's basket and pulled back the napkin to reveal dry, butterless bran biscuits. Agatha gave Sophie a withering stare and retreated into the house.

"So we can't take a walk?" Sophie asked.

Agatha started to close the door but then paused. I could see the gears turning in her head.

Eventually she sighed. "A short one." Agatha trudged past us both. "But if you say anything smug or stuck-up or shallow, I'll have Reaper follow you home."

Sophie ran after her. "But then I can't talk!"

After four years, the dreaded eleventh night of the eleventh month had arrived. In the late-day sun, the square had become a hive of preparation for the School Master's arrival. The men sharpened swords, set traps, and plotted the night's guard, while the women lined up the children and went to work. Handsome ones had their hair lopped off, teeth blackened, and clothes shredded to rags; homely ones were scrubbed, swathed in bright colors, and fitted with veils. Mothers begged the best-behaved children to curse or kick their sisters, the worst were bribed to pray in the church, while the rest in line were led in choruses of the village anthem: "Blessed Are the Ordinary."

Fear swelled into a contagious fog. In a dim alley, the butcher and blacksmith traded storybooks for clues to save their sons. Beneath the crooked clock tower, two sisters listed fairy-tale villain names to hunt for patterns. A group of boys chained their bodies together, a few girls hid on the school roof, and a masked child jumped from bushes to spook his mother, earning a spanking on the spot. Even the homeless hag got into the act, hopping before a meager fire, croaking, "Burn the storybooks! Burn them all!" But no one listened and no books were burned.

Agatha gawped at all this in disbelief. "How can a whole town believe in fairy tales?"

"Because they're real," Sophie said.

Agatha stopped walking. "You can't actually believe the legend is true."

"Of course I do," said Sophie.

"That a School Master kidnaps two children, takes them to a school where one learns Good, one learns Evil, and they graduate into fairy tales?"

"Sounds about right."

"Tell me if you see an oven."

"Why?"

"I want to put my head in it. And what, pray tell, do they teach at this school exactly?"

"Well, in the School for Good, they teach boys and girls like me how to become heroes and princesses, how to rule kingdoms justly, how to find Happily Ever After," Sophie said. "In the School for Evil, they teach you how to become wicked witches and humpbacked trolls, how to lay curses and cast evil spells."

"Evil spells?" Agatha cackled. "Who came up with this? A four-year-old?"

"Well, the faces of the missing Gavaldon children illustrated in the storybooks is evidence enough for me," I chimed in.

"I don't see anything, because I don't read dumb storybooks."

"Then why is there a stack by your bed?" I asked.

Agatha scowled. "Look, who's to say the books are even real? Maybe it's the bookseller's prank. Maybe it's the Elders' way to keep children out of the woods. Whatever the explanation, it isn't a School Master and it isn't evil spells."

"So who's kidnapping the children?" Sophie asked.

"No one. Every four years, two idiots sneak into the woods, hoping to scare their parents, only to get lost or eaten by wolves, and there you have it, the legend continues."

"That's the stupidest explanation I've ever heard."

"I don't think I'm the stupid one here," Agatha said.

Sophie clenched her fists. "You're just scared."

"Right," Agatha laughed. "And why would I be scared?"

"Because you know you're coming with me."

Agatha stopped laughing.

"Either you or Y/n."

My gaze moved past Sophie into the square. The villagers were staring at us like the solution to a mystery. Good in pink, Evil in black. The School Master's perfect pair.

But who knew which of the witches were to be left behind.

"No," I said, shaking my head, aiming for nonchalance. "We're not close enough to either of the two extremes to be taken."

"Let's go," said Agatha.

I turned. Her eyes were locked on the mob.

"Where?"

"Away from people."

***

As the sun weakened to a red orb, three girls, one beautiful, one ugly, and one in between, sat side by side on the shore of a lake. Sophie packed cucumbers in a silk pouch, while I flicked lit matches into the water.

Sophie threw me a look.

"What? It relaxes me," I said.

Sophie shook her head and tried to make room for the last cucumber. "Why would anyone want to stay here? Who would choose this over a fairy tale?"

"And who would choose to leave their family forever?" Agatha snorted.

"Except me, you mean," said Sophie.

We fell silent.

"Do you ever wonder where your father went?" Sophie asked.

"I told you," Agatha said. "He left after I was born."

"But where would he go? We're surrounded by woods! To suddenly disappear like that . . ." Sophie spun. "Maybe he found a way into the stories! Maybe he found a magic portal! Maybe he's waiting for you on the other side!"

"Or maybe he went back to his wife and pretended I never happened."

I chuckled. "And maybe he's with my dad, warning him never to go back to Gavaldon unless he wants to reclaim the bitter child he abandoned here."

Sophie bit her lip and went back to cucumbers. "Callis is never at home when I visit."

"She goes into town now," said Agatha. "Not enough patients at the house. Probably the location."

"I'm sure that's it," Sophie said. "I don't think a graveyard makes people all that comfortable."

"Graveyards have their benefits," Agatha said. "No nosy neighbors. No dropin salesmen. No fishy 'friends' bearing face masks and diet cookies, telling you you're going to Evil School in Magic Fairy Land." She flicked a match with relish.

Sophie put down her cucumber. "So I'm fishy now."

"Who asked you to show up? Y/n and I were perfectly fine alone."

"You always let me in."

"Because you always seem so lonely," said Agatha. "And I feel sorry for you."

"Sorry for me?" Sophie's eyes flashed. "You're lucky that someone would come see you when no one else will. You're lucky that someone like me would be your friend. You're lucky that someone like me is such a good person."

"I knew it!" Agatha flared. "We're your Good Deeds! Just pawns in your stupid fantasy!"

Sophie didn't say anything for a long time.

"Maybe I became your friend to impress the School Master," she confessed finally. "But there's more to it now."

"Because I found you out," Agatha grumbled.

"Because I like you guys."

I flicked another match.

"No one understands me here," Sophie said, looking at her hands. "But you two do. You see who I am. That's why I kept coming back. You're not my good deed anymore, Agatha. Y/n." Sophie gazed up at us. "You're my friends."

I cocked my head at her declaration, pleasantly surprised.

Agatha's neck flushed red.

"What's wrong?" Sophie frowned.

Agatha hunched into her dress. "It's just, um . . . I—I'm, uh . . . not used to friends."

Sophie smiled and took her hand. "Well, now we'll all be friends at our new school."

Agatha groaned and pulled away. "Say I sink to your intelligence level and pretend to believe all this. Why is either Y/n or I going to villain school? Why has everyone elected us the Mistresses of Evil?"

"No one says you're evil, Agatha," Sophie sighed. "You're just different."

Agatha narrowed her eyes. "Different how?"

"Well, for starters, you two only wear black."

"Because it doesn't get dirty."

"You don't ever leave your house."

"People don't look at me there."

"For the Create-a-Tale Competition, Y/n's story ended with Snow White eaten by vultures and Cinderella drowning herself in a tub."

"I thought it was a better ending," I defended.

"Agatha gave me a dead frog for my birthday!"

"To remind you we all die and end up rotting underground eaten by maggots so we should enjoy our birthdays while we have them. I found it thoughtful."

"Agatha, you dressed as a bride for Halloween."

"Weddings are scary."

Sophie gaped at her.

"Fine. So I'm a little different," Agatha glared. "So what?"

Sophie hesitated. "Well, it's just that in fairy tales, different usually turns out, um . . . evil."

"You're different, too, Sophie," I said. "You dress like the fair maiden in a fairytale. You spend hours grooming yourself. You act as if you're already the princess of some faraway kingdom even though the closest you've gotten to going anywhere else outside this village is tasting the berries collected from the forest."

Sophie didn't say anything for a long time. My gaze softened. "Why is it you want to leave here so badly? That you'd believe in stories you know aren't true?"

Sophie met my gaze.

"Because I can't live here," Sophie said, voice catching. "I can't live an ordinary life."

The tenor-tolled clock sang darkly in the valley.

I stared at the blonde for a moment longer. Then I stood, dusted off my pants, and headed home, wanting to get this night over with.

[missmaybe-not]

Dating Apps: Swiping Insanity Before the Fun

Hey Maybe Nots and Maybe Yeses! Welcome back to the wild world of online dating, where the journey to finding "the one" is often a hilarious, frustrating, and sometimes disconcerting adventure. 

Today, we're taking a break from date mishaps and diving headfirst into the messy jungle of online profiles before the actual dates even happen.

Let's be honest, dating apps are like catalogues – a never-ending parade of faces and bios with a healthy dose of "buyer beware." 

You craft your profile – a carefully curated selection of your best angles (the ones with your best features and that make you look flawless even though we all know that we're hiding that wrinkle or piece of fat that insists on popping up on our clothes no matter what) and hobbies. Some apps will also have fancy personality tests (a definite plus in my book!), and bam! You're ready to unleash yourself on the dating pool... or should I say, the dating swamp?

Because let me tell you, you'll find everything and anything in this virtual melange. Exes from your high school days resurfacing with questionable selfies? Check. Married people testing the waters? Definitely check. Then there are the profile ghosts – those elusive beings with zero photos or bios relying solely on the power of… faith? Look, I get it. Married folks might not want their significant others to stumble upon their profiles (maybe avoid being there all together and set things straight at home). But seriously, how do all the others expect to attract matches based solely on blind trust in the online dating gods?

Alright, let's move on to the profile pic enthusiasts (the ones who actually include pictures of themselves, bless their hearts!). Girls, we're notorious for mastering the art of the flattering filters (not that I used them, because I actually avoid filters!). But guys? It's a different story. Sometimes, it feels like they take selfies with a potato in dim lighting. Pro tip, fellas: take some time, experiment with angles, and trust me, the natural look is always a win. Nobody's perfect, but let's aim for "approachable" rather than "make-me-run-screaming."

So, you've swiped right (or left, depending on your fancy), and the magical match appears. Now comes the real gamble: who breaks the ice first? More often than not, the pressure lands on you, lovely ladies. And guess what? If you don't take the initiative, Mr. Match might ghost you faster than a free donut at a police station. Some other times the conversations fizzle out faster than a damp firework, leaving you wondering if you even sparked anything at all. But fear not, love warriors! Every now and then, a diamond in the rough emerges. Someone who can banter, hold a conversation that goes beyond basic small talk, and actually makes you laugh. Then comes the date-planning hurdle – aligning schedules, finding the perfect spot… it's like trying to herd a bunch of cats (have you tried doing that? Yeah.). When the stars finally align and you get to meet, a lot can happen (I mean, have you read my past blog entries?). 

Speaking of possibilities and complications, a potential new connection is simmering on the back burner, with an added twist – a different country is involved! Will this lead to a hilarious first date mishap or a blossoming romance across borders? Stay tuned in a week or two to find out!

So, onto those burning questions: would you swipe right for a profile with no picture or generic scenery shots? And if your date doesn't quite live up to their profile's expectations (photos or personality), would you give them a chance or call it quits on the spot? 

Let's hear it in the comments, friends! Spill the tea on your dating app adventures, mishaps, and maybe-nots-turned-maybe-yeses! Until next time, keep swiping, keep hoping, and may the odds be ever in your favour!

Photo by Nik on Unsplash

[anvoo]

Little reminders for An

As I thought, I was super sad this morning.

It's hard to describe the feeling, but I know that there's at least one other person that's going through the same thing. People say feelings emotions and thoughts make you human and alive; part of me agrees, takes it in, and cherishes it, but another part of me wishes that other part would just go jump off a bridge, along with all its precious "feelings, emotions, thoughts, and insecurities".

It felt like a loss, not being able to talk to Cat right now. My mind kept going in circles, cycling from memory to memory, conversation to conversation,... I reached out for my phone and browsed TikTok for the longest time since weeks, months even.

What used to be my go-to method to pass hours upon hours before, now I could barely scroll for more than 30 minutes without having my mind invaded by thoughts or something else; either I'm getting old, or something's changed how I feel- and go about it.

Eventually, I pulled myself up, got dressed, albeit slowly, and hauled my ass outta the house.

"It'll maybe be nice to go outside and get some fresh air and sunlight. It's ok if you don't think it'll help, or it's annoying or whatever; 5 minutes, and if you really think it's a waste of time, you can go back", I told myself.

And hey, both not to, and to my surprise, it helped. Taking in nature, no music or distracting phone-stuff, being in the moment, brings a certain sense of peace and calm. I managed to re-read what I wrote yesterday, let it process, sink in, and made some peace with it.

Self-love and care aren't self-indulgence, but it's rejecting self-neglect, and doing what you believe is right and good. It's accepting and trusting yourself and the process, that what you believe will lead to a better future is true, and continually guiding yourself towards that end.

"It pains me to see you sad. It hurts me when you spend all your days inside, wasting your time away on mindless distractions. I want you to go outside in the sun right now because I love you and care about you, and because I want the best for you." The things I say to those who I care about, I'll practice saying it more to myself.

"I love you too much to let you drown in your sorrows", so I went out to the park, and basked in the sun today. "I love you too much to let you feel bad in your own skin", so I went to the gym, for the first time since forever. "I love you too much to let you suffer, and worry about your academics and future", so I'm making plans and focusing on that. "I love you so much, that it hurts me deeply to see you sad", I still cry during the moments when I could tell myself, and have me listen that I don't need to be strong enough to do everything, or that I'm good enough, or that I care about me to not want to see me sad.

Taking a step back, I think it will be ok, and it's not as bad as my mind makes it out to be sometimes. I love being dramatic, tragic romances, ups and downs, and grand stories and giant loops and turns, so much so that I even subject myself to thoughts and feelings, just to entertain that little side of me.

It's not a loss, that me and Cat are choosing to give each other and ourselves some time apart. She's still just a text message, a phone call, or roughly 7 hours by train away. We're doing what we believe is best in the long run and also short run for us, for me, and for her. For us both to be always anxious, and empty, with only each other's company as the cure, is just not very nice, and that's not love.

Yeah, you're right. I'm not doing this just because I think it might be good for me in the future, but also because of the not-so-great effects it has on me right now.

Sitting there, feeling super anxious, just waiting, distracting myself. Wrestling with my own thoughts, mind, and feelings, the mental energy I needed for that left me exhausted and demotivated to do anything else. Still, I think to myself, "If I could get my things in check, and "just" be better, and "just" change my mindset, I could handle everything, and stay in contact." But that's not realistic, and that's not a kind thing to think and expect from myself. I'm not perfect, and I shouldn't expect myself to be. The unhealthy thoughts and habits I have, are mainly products of many of my insecurities and struggles, and they're not going anywhere unless I tackle the roots of them. Sitting around and coping, spending all my time and energy to deal with the symptoms, is no way to live, and no way would it last.

Nothing would change if I just keep that way, forcing and expecting me to pretty much be a different person, while constantly mentally exhausting myself. I'll be the same anxious, miserable guy, barely holding onto some outside validation, telling himself that it'll get better.

I want to be happier, and that requires changes!

I made a promise to myself before, to try my best and prove to me and others that I can do the things I set my mind on, and I will keep it. I'm in control, and my choices, from insignificant to significant, shape and determine my days and life. I want to realize my potential, to tackle my struggles at their roots and take control of my mind and mental, to be happier.

Part of me wants Cat to be dependent on me; part of me feels validated that she feels sad and empty without me, and that I am akin to a drug to her. But on the other hand, that part is also emotionally dependent on her; that part sees her as the cure, the solution to all my struggles and problems (which are completely unrelated, and logically I know well where they lie, and how to start working on them); that part craves for validation itself, and its insatiable hunger for that just grows and grows. I accept that it is a part of me, and I will not beat myself up over it, but I do know that it is a part of me that I do not want to, and will not keep feeding. I care about Cat, so I want her to be happy. I want her to be able to enjoy her life and handle things ok, and not have to be exhausted, empty, or sad. I'm doing this and suffering a little in this way right now (instead of suffering a lot in another way haha) not just for me, but for her too. It's anxiety for me, and it's the emptiness without for her. Our really heartbreaking talk last night really showed me how much I was struggling, and how much she's struggling too. I want our relationship and connection, now and in the future, to not be tainted and made so difficult and sad by our own struggles and insecurities. I don't want this to be the case, both for me and for her. I wouldn't want her to miss out on having the great "Me" in her life haha. I want also my future relationships, both platonic and romantic, to not be so dictated and affected by my own inner struggles and insecurities. I want to be happier, stronger, and more in control so that I could be around, and have a positive impact on the lives of those important to me.

Yep. It's not just for you right now and a little bit for Cat, but also for your future girlfriend/wife! You'll bring great things to her life, and think of all the stories you'll have to tell. Goldmine, I'm telling you.

Haha, yeah you're right xD It's for my future girlfriend/wife also. Here's to me, for choosing self-love, for choosing my happiness and future. We're doing this so that we have the focus, the distance, and the time we need to settle in with our lives, to add colors to them, for us both to gain a sense of self and learn to navigate through tough times so that me and her both could come out stronger and happier than before. I want to be able to pull focus on myself, and my future. I was stuck running away from my problems, finding refuge and comfort in other things and other people; not anymore. I care about myself too much to keep doing that. All of my decisions, and all that I'm doing, is for me, and I'm proud of myself. I love myself too much to have it any other way.

[owtono]

life

I find it amusing to write things down anywhere that implies a slight possibility someone might find them, yet it's still very unlikely. You know, like a falling cherry blossom petal, your thought is, in a way, unique and irreplaceable, but you're not the only one out there. Everyone's message is as unique as yours, there are many of them. Same as falling petals, the sight is endearing, but what are the chances of some individual noticing that one petal that is you? Hilariously small. But isn't it the beauty of it? Even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes, there are millions of good people (at least it's something one wishes to believe) and those people are equally beautiful. In the end, we're nothing but our insides, not anatomical insides (although I can't say it's a wrong interpretation), rather a soul. And whatever you may believe, there is certainly a spark in every human being. And that spark is what truly matters in life. As strange as it is to point out, all of the people you don't know that you see anywhere in public, they all have lives. I think it's fascinating.

I'm glad to see how I've changed. Opposed to what my younger self could have thought, there are always people who will understand you, there are always places you can seek help in. It might be difficult to find those people and places, or it might not be. What if everything turns out better than you expected? If such a thing ever happened, why wouldn't it happen again? Good things come to those who await them, or at least that's what I think.

Life is beautiful, isn't it? If you stop for a minute and just look in the sky. It may be cloudy right now, or raining cats and dogs, but eventually you'll have bright blue sky over your head. Or I'm thinking about snow - a terribly cold thing if you ask me! Yet when I look at it I find myself longing to touch it. As cold as snow may be, and how inconvenient it could seem to an unfamiliar person, children have great fun with it. I think it's good to let go of a serious exterior from time to time, after all what are we if not big children? Sometimes you just got to have fun with the snow. Enjoy your favorite snack while watching a good show on TV. Sing along to that catchy song that pops up in your head from time to time, even if it's weird, even if nobody else remembers it. Any other imaginable thing that brings you joy and doesn't harm others - you should do it.

Eventually everything will fall into places it belongs in.

Curiosity eats me alive, I'm full of wonder if some might find my thoughts entertaining, but further I go.

I love how I am, love my life, love my cat that is sitting on a bag I carelessly threw on the floor, love my... Honestly struggling to find a word for them hah, muse would be a strong one counting how I am in no way a writer, a poet, an artist or anything of sorts. But on the other hand, who said only artists may have inspiration? Everyone should have inspiration. It can be your dream, your family, your pet, your lover, your friend, and if none of the above - be it yourself. That is to say, be your own inpiration. Every action should have a goal, even if not a deep one. So just do it for them, or for youself.

Words cannot express the way I feel about my Muse. Love is a concept, and at that not the most certain one. People fall out of love these days, so love is not the word I'm looking for. My Muse is.. my final destination. The place where my soul belongs to. The person that I'd go through Hell and back for if the need arises. The person I will treat with utmost respect and cherishment for as long as I'm living on this Earth and after I cease to exist.

Although this text has no target audience, I'm afraid I will bore any reader that stumbles upon me if I continue any further. That is not to say that I will be surprised if none come around, I shall not be astonished.

Farewell, a person that, or rather if, happens to be reading that. I hope your soul guides you to a place you long for.

[viatrixtravels-a]

Surprising no one, a knock greets Lumine's door. Upon opening, there laid a letter and an interesting... Creature in front of her.

Opening it, it reads...

Hello, traveler! I've been told that you know Albedo, so I decided to leave him under your care.

If you're curious on why he got turned to... Well, what you see now— please ask him when he returns to normal. I simply can't comprehend on why he would use himself as a guinea pig with a rough draft of a "recipe".

Thankfully, he'll be like this for... 5 days at most. Or a week, if you're unlucky. Being turned to an edible little thing can be troublesome, and archon forbid I leave him alone on his camp. I asked Katheryne and the others, and they informed me that you and your companion, Paimon, are adept at taking care of animals.

If you can keep him from getting into too much trouble, that'd be appreciated.

— Alice

The cat right in front of her raised its— er, his— head. The "casing" wasn't doing him any good as he blinked at the blonde traveler.

"Mmmrow...?"

(ooc from Alice/Navi: surprise! I wanted to send you a drawing/art of mochi Lumine, but I'm going to be busy for the next few days, so I decided to send you Albedo instead. I hope you enjoy seeing him like this for a few days lol)

"..."

Lumine read through the note once - then twice - exchanging glances with her little flying companion before both of them looked down at the unique creature in front of them. It definitely had some obvious cat-like features such as the fluffy tail and the sounds it makes. However, he was also encased in some kind of hard shell and gave off a vaguely sweet aroma? It reminded her of those fancy cheesecakes she tried in Fontaine.

"Well...I guess we have another pet for the next week or so. We can't leave him alone like this."

"Hm...Paimon thinks that two cats is already plenty butーー"

The Pixie's eyes began to sparkle, her mouth watering as she approached the Alchemist. "This cat smells kind of yummy..."

"P-Paimon...!? Wait! I know he might smell like dessert, but this is Albedo, remember!? You can't eat him...!"

[oneyearapart]

i've changed so much in ways i did not think were possible for me. it's been a long, long time now since i've done a lot of mourning, healing, soul-searching, and rediscovering myself. i altered myself in ways that i shouldn't have, to keep a relationship going that wasn't good for neither of us. we should have ended it sooner, but we were both young and naive, and filled with endless hope.

you probably still hate me, which i hope you do, so that it's easier to live your life without thinking of me. my heart shattered when you said all those hateful things about me, and that message being the last thing you ever said to me. i'm sorry i couldn't mourn over my childhood pet faster, but i think it might have been a blessing in disguise. we both grew up, were in different paths in life, and it was no longer something we could do together. we both knew we were growing apart and the distance wasn't helping. i was finally freed, although it hurt like a fresh wound being doused in alcohol. i might not think of you often now, unless i'm being triggered, but i still care for you and hope you are doing well. i'm sorry i couldn't keep our lifelong promises and make you happy, but it seems i wasn't meant to be your soulmate.

i found someone who cares about me in a way that's different than the way you loved me. it's healthier for me, and she's always doing her best for us. she's motivated me to chase my own dreams that i didn't know i had, and we're together in los angeles. we both have a ragdoll cat, i just got mine last week after finally deciding it was time to have a new companion at my place. she is the sweetest kitten ever, and i know she will teach me a lot about love as well. we go on really nice dates, and i'm finally able to hold hands in public without feeling terrified. i feel so safe and cared for with this person, and i hope you feel the same because it feels so wonderful to be this happy and successful, it's a dream.

you never allowed me to have closure because you said never to speak to you again, you told me all these hateful things about me, totally crushing my soul, and the things you told me from your point of view, i had no idea about because you never spoke to me about it. i acted as the bigger person and left it at that, even though i had a lot to say as well. i didn't want to hurt your feelings the way you did to me, because i felt it was too cruel for any human to feel. i broke down reading it, because you never told me any of those things, you were never truly honest with me, and it made me feel so guilty that i felt like i turned you into an insecure person.

i am writing this for my own closure, whether you stumble upon it one day or not, this will be out in the open so that one day you may. i finally feel like i have healed enough from this relationship enough to finally write a goodbye letter to you who may never see this in this lifetime. i hope you're as successful as you dreamed to be, and with someone who takes care of you and your family well, the way i dreamed of doing once upon a time. thank you for everything, and take care!

[unwantedshivering]

NEW SURVIVOR

HEADCANONS of DANNY JOHNSON with a new survivor he finds attractive

WARNINGS: creepy stalking, typical danny stuff, perverse & sadistic thoughts, obsession

FOR: Ghostface ft. Dwight :]

Oh?

You suddenly dropped in one day during his trial, might he add, as though you were made for him. Disoriented, quivering and on unstable legs. It's Danny's instinct to prowl, hunt and observe, and he absolutely loves when there's new survivors — it's a new opportunity for him to see what your insides look like.

Are you terrified yet? You seem to be a bit too calm in the moment, but it was probably just setting in. Of course Dwight takes it upon himself to explain the generators to you, blah blah blah. Danny's attention is nothing more than a simple curiosity, that of a cat lazily pawing at a mouse. If you're lucky, he'll lose his curiosity quickly and your first death will be (almost) painless.

Unfortunately, you're not lucky at all. You blow a fuse on a generator, quickly disrupting the unnerving and almost faint caws of those ominous crows that seem to follow you everywhere. Dwight quickly hushes your surprised yelp, urging you to move quickly, but Danny's already behind you. His interest has been piqued, you're quite pretty when you're frightened.

To be fair, he had been behind you for quite some time. Ohh, you're easy to spook, aren't you? You're a quick learner, your fingers move diligently, but the pressure of being dropped in a game of life has you fumbling. He thinks you'd look good smeared in blood, a sweet rouge dotting your face as he watches those eyes go big and doe-like. Thinking about it gives him a small rush, and he idly twirls his knife as he stealthily slinks after you.

Dwight grabs your shoulder to make you crouch and you flinch, a sharp breath escaping your lips. Danny's own breathing falters.

He likes watching. He likes figuring out everything about the survivors, which killer they fear the most, how good they are in tough situations, how easy of prey they might be. The quiet whimpers of pain he inflicts upon them, the groans and limping, he could end it quick — but he doesn't choose to, he revels in their misery, prolongs it. All survivors have hope to escape, that's why The Entity chose them.

He loves breaking it. Of course, they'll occasionally escape through that damned gate or hatch, but when they don't it's almost artistic. He broke them down. He crushed their hopes, their small semblance of faith in leaving the hellhole they're eternally trapped in, even if it was for a single round. If he finds it particularly poetic, he'll even snap a quick photo. Danny's always been quite the romantic.

He's snapped many photos of you in the short time that he's known you. Your side profile, your smile at the awkward quip Dwight makes to ease your nervousness, all of it. Your hesitant movements and the changes in your face is something he finds charming. It's the way you're adapting even though he could practically smell the absolute horror radiating off of you, you're so fucking scared it's driving him crazy.

Danny plays with you. He wants you to be paranoid with every flash and click, every branch snapping you hear. It's amusing when you turn to his direction only to see nothing, no, he doesn't want you to see him yet. He has to get rid of that parasite sticking by your side first.

He decides then he wants you for last, like a sweet reward for his excellent trial. Yeah, he wants to see your hair disheveled and your limbs sprawled against the dirt. The Ghostface doesn't speak, none of the killers generally do, but he would whisper a description on how he'd gut you and see the realization of your predicament seep in. He wants it so badly. He wants — needs photos to commemorate the experience.

Deep down, Danny knows this is just an obsession formed over a baseless fascination. He wants to see what makes you squirm, but also you're attractive to him, so it works out for him perfectly. It also doesn't help that he believes you to be photogenic, and only The Entity knows how many survivors he would sacrifice just to see you covered in blood.

It's the pure notion of such a thing that would set him off. Are you a cryer or would you attempt to hold it in? How's your pain tolerance? Have you ever experienced such brutality and cruelness before him? Danny would love if the shimmer of your tears appeared in the photo as well as your contorted expression. These thoughts cross his mind as he hooks Jake and Feng.

Fuck.

It's getting harder to rein himself back in, but Danny is smart to know patience is a virtue. It bears fruit, beautiful fruit such as being the first killer in this endless loop to sink a knife into your side with a sick slick sound.

There was something watching you.

You felt it throughout the whole time you were in this weird dimension, your hair bristling as though there were eyes were locked onto your frame's every movement. You recounted the feeling hesitantly to Dwight as you were headed to another spot, and he pursed his lips before saying that it was most likely The Ghostface. You persisted for more answers, but he provided you none, stating most trials felt that way.

Dwight was nice, sticking by you and looking out for you as you tripped and messed up time and time again. "It's alright," he whispered, fixing up a generator skillfully. "It's your first trial, I was even worse when I got here."

It was sudden when you lost him, another blown generator and the building dread of something approaching. You ran away. You shouldn't have, Dwight even shouting after you, but you did anyway. It was too overwhelming, the fear had overtaken and your natural instinct was flight.

It had receded naturally as you left, but then the guilt had taken over. A piercing scream ripped through the air and you whipped your head around. It was him — Dwight. You should've just stayed put.

It was the moment you decided to step toward the sound to fix your mistake that an aggressive shove halted your movements, your body sent tumbling to the strangely wet soil. It was cold, dirt sticking to your hair and body, and a soft scream forced its way out of your mouth. You quickly turned over to attempt to stand, but then a dark, impeding mass of black seated itself right on your hips.

His name — you know how he got his name. The Ghostface and his startling white mask, forever in a petrified scream, your eyes were blown wide. It was one thing to hear about him and feel him, but his actual presence made your stomach churn. You thrashed and wriggled violently in hopes of forcing your way out from below him, but he kept his weight heavy upon your body, purposefully pushing his legs against your torso to cage you in.

As if to issue a warning, the Ghostface cut a slice into your thigh, and you released a silenced whimper. Stunning. You were stunning, he could analyze and study your every expression forever, maybe pry noises out of you no one else could.

Dwight's blood curdling cries worsened as the Ghostface wiped the knife he used to slash him down, head tilted and chest heaving. The exhilaration of hunting the other survivors was nothing in comparison to seeing you below him. There were clumps of filth across your face and hair, clothes ripped by the strangely sharp branches of the dead trees, your heartbeat spiking.

He could feel it. If he wanted to, he could reach down with his own two fingers and press against your thumping pulse in an oddly intimate fashion. Would you be bewildered? He wanted a picture for every face you could ever make — confused, angry, whatever.

"Has anyone done this to you before?" he asked before he could help himself, freakish mask leaning in closer to see every twitch on your visage.

Your eyebrows knitted together, he saw it. Something like that shouldn't have fascinated him as much as it did. With a shuddered breath, you spoke in a rasp. "I—I don't understand..."

Your alert eyes flickered toward his knife, and the Ghostface hummed. He smelt of cheap cologne.

"Dwight was babying you," he stated lowly, mockingly cocking his head to the side. The martyr. He bit off more than he could chew. "The nerd took it upon himself to try and save you, have your first trial be one where you survive. Isn't that fucking ironic?"

It was rhetorical, you knew it was, yet you answered anyway. "I know," you spat bitterly, turning away. It felt bad to have your own mistake be said so bluntly by a murderer of all people.

Weakly, you writhed underneath him for a chance to move, but his hold was too suffocating. Tears sprung up in your eyes. Why was this creep just watching? He didn't do much with his weapon, just kept staring with his hooded lids and breathing in your face as you struggled.

It seemed like the rise and fall of his chest quickened when that light glaze of frustration and fear appeared upon your face. He sucked in a hiss, craving to see those bewitching, translucent pearls stream down your features.

"Oh, you're a fucking cryer," he cooed. His hunting knife pressed against your cheek, the cold blade forcefully turning your head back to face his eery mask. "Look here, I need a good shot of those eyes before and after I sink my knife into that stomach of yours."

[acey-wacey]

Hello! Im saw you're open some request, i was wondering what would the boys (Malleus, Riddle, Jamil, Leona and Idia) react when their crush/MC has been in sleeping curse and what would they also react when MC woke up when he kissed them and realized that he's their true love?

I have been WAITING to do something like this, thank you!!

I made some drabbles because this deserves more than headcanons. Actually I might use this idea for more enemies to lovers.

I didn’t do Idia because I just don’t know how to write him for this.

...

True Love's Kiss

...

"Where are they?"

He rushed into the infirmary, startling the nurses as well as Grim and Crowley, who sat at your bedside. Crowley stood up and gestured to your sleeping form.

He kneeled next to you, his eyes searching for signs of life on your face.

"Don't worry, they're still alive," Crowley laughed, making the boy scowl. "They've been cursed to sleep. We're looking for an antidote but for now, there's no known cure."

The boy's expression fell as he looked at your sleeping face. You were so peaceful but he couldn't help from worrying about your well-being.

"Isn't there something about a true love's kiss in all those fairy tales?" Grim interrupted. He stood up on his chair with his tiny hands on his hips and stared the boy down. "Hey, why don't you try kissing them?"

...

🐲 Malleus Draconia 🐲

(for some reason I made this one longer than the rest but i know you ain't complaining)

Malleus's eyes widened slightly at Grim's sudden suggestion.

"Me?" He cocked his head and searched for any hint that Grim was joking. "You're not serious?"

"Course I am!" Grim pouted and stomped his foot. "It's my henchman on the line here!"

"You have an interesting theory," Malleus mused, turning back to your sleeping form. "What makes you think I'm their true love?"

Grim scoffed and put his hands on his hips.

"You're here, aren't you?" Grim nearly yelled, making Crowley chuckle. "Sure, everyone else is worried about the prefect but you're the only person who would ditch class to make sure their okay."

Malleus furrowed his eyebrows as he considered Grim's accusation. As soon as he heard you were in the infirmary, he had rushed to find you with no hesitation. Was that really something he would do for just a friend?

Now that he thought about it, he acted out of character a lot when it came to you. Upon seeing him, most people would turn the other way or try not to make eye contact, but you always walked up to him and smiled. It was an affection unknown to Malleus and he could feel himself falling deeper every time you skipped to match his step.

You listened to him too. Whenever he would take evening walks to appreciate the gargoyles, you were right there with him, eager to hear him talk about his passion. In all his life, he had never known someone so patient and compassionate as you. Without even realizing it, he had fallen for you. Hard.

"But what if they don't love me that way?" Malleus fiddled with his jacket buttons in uncharacteristic anxiety. Grim groaned and stared Malleus down.

"Then they won't wake up and we'll find some other way to cure them. You've got nothing to lose, lover boy!" Grim was getting frustrated with the draconic fae. He had been forced to listen to your lovesick rambling after your walks with Malleus. He knew every yucky-blucky feeling you had for the fae and he was sick of watching the two of you dance circles around each other. "Hurry up, would you? We don't have all day!"

Malleus raised his eyebrow at Grim's impatience, causing the cat to gulp in fear. He took a deep breath and moved closer to your sleeping form.

Your closed eyes were lifeless but Malleus was comforted by the steady rise and fall of your chest. As he got closer, he could feel your warm breath tickling his cheeks. A hair was stuck between your lips and he brushed it aside, taking the time to stroke your cheek. Finally, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to yours gently.

When he pulled away, he watched and waited for you to wake. He was about to give up when your eyelashes fluttered, snapping his gaze back to your face. You slowly blinked your eyes open, your pupils dilating as they adjust to the light. You turned to Malleus with a confused expression on your face.

"What," you stuttered, still feeling the effects of the curse. Malleus instinctively put a hand on your arm to comfort you. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You were cursed by some faerie, blah, blah, blah," Grim, very helpfully, filled you in. You rolled your eyes, already missing being asleep. "But anyway, Tsunotaro here woke you up with true love's kiss."

Your eyes widened, the realization knocking any remaining exhaustion out of you.

"Malleus is..." You slowly turned to look at him for confirmation. "My true love?"

"You guys can talk about that," Grim groaned, knowing you were just going to be more sappy. "I'm outta here. I wouldn't stick around, Headmaster, unless you wanna chaperone their smooch session."

You yelled various admonishments at Grim as he scampered out of the room with Crowley close behind him. With everyone gone but you and Malleus, the atmosphere suddenly changed to awkward.

"So," you broke the silence, startling Malleus. "True love."

He nodded, not wanting to speak in fear of saying something foolish. You giggled at his bashful reaction.

"That's good to know," you clicked your tongue, looking around the infirmary to avoid looking Malleus in the eye. "Do you... I mean, would it be presumptuous of my to assume this meant you also love me?"

"Also?" Malleus coughed out, keeping his gaze firmly trained on the floor. "Did you misspeak?"

You laughed, probably louder than necessary and brought your other hand to rest on Malleus'.

"No, I did not misspeak." You had a hard time keeping a straight face while taking into account Malleus' cluelessness. "Malleus Draconia, I am in love with you. And if I consider the whole true love's kiss thing, I might even start thinking that you also love me."

Malleus smiled at you gently and ran his thumb over your knuckles.

"Then your assumptions would be correct."

...

🌹 Riddle Rosehearts 🌹

Riddle's face turned the same shade as his hair.

"That would be highly improper!" he stuttered, trying not to acknowledge the knowing smirk on Grim's face. "To- to kiss them while they're asleep?! That is a complete violation of their privacy!” 

“While that may be true, if it saves them from the curse, it’s worth trying,” Crowley tapped his finger on his cheek as he considered the possibility. “And you are quite close with the prefect, are you not?” 

“That’s...!” Riddle struggled to form words while thinking about kissing you. Of course he would like too, but he assumed that you didn’t love him the way he did you. If you didn’t wake up, then he would have just selfishly taken advantage of you while you were asleep! It simply wasn’t honorable. “I couldn’t bring myself to do that to them.” 

“You wanna know a secret, tomato-head?” Riddle raised an eyebrow at Grim, considering collaring him for the nickname but wanting to know what he was going to say. “I don’t know much about true love, but I do know that the prefect wants to kiss you. They’ve said. So. Many. Times.” 

While Grim rolled his eyes recalling your lovesick antics, Riddle malfunctioned. You wanted to kiss him? But if you only saw him as a friend, why would you ever think about something like that? 

“I am begging you,” Grim groaned, turning onto his stomach in a dramatic fake death. “If my henchman doesn’t wake up and feed me, I’m going to die.” 

Riddle cleared his throat, ushering Grim away from where you laid. He lowered his head to be parallel with yours. The closer your face became to his, the redder his face was. 

“If this fails, then, Y/N, please forgive me,” Riddle whispered as he closed the gap. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and pulled back, biting his lip in anticipation. 

He waited and waited. Disappointment welled inside him the longer he sat there. Grim whistled awkwardly and scampered out of the infirmary, not wanting to sit in the tense atmosphere. Riddle sighed and got up, turning around to leave. 

“You know, you’re not half bad at kissing, true love.” 

He spun around, surprise and relief visible on his expression as he saw you sitting up in your bed. He hit you playfully on the arm. 

“Don’t scare me like that again!” 

“If I did, would I get another kiss?” 

“You could just say please.” 

“Well then, dorm leader Rosehearts,” you teased him, making him roll his eyes in exasperation and fondness as you batted your eyelashes. “Please?” 

...

🐍 Jamil Viper 🐍

“You’re not serious?”  

Jamil stared at Grim in disbelief. 

“I want my henchman back,” Grim shrugged under Jamil’s piercing gaze. “Seven knows you love them enough.” 

“Where the underworld did you hear that?” Jamil snapped at Grim, heat rising on his face. Grim smirked at Jamil’s defensive reaction. 

“Oh, just, you know, the grapevine,” Grim smiled awkwardly as he maintained eye contact with Jamil. “My point is that I know you’re in love with Y/N, so don’t pretend. If you don’t kiss them and wake them up, then you’re gonna have to deal with me.” 

Jamil tried to shrug off Grim’s accusations but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that his crush had developed into something more. He loved everything about you, the furrow in your brow when you worked through a math problem, the way you laughed breathlessly with him after racing to the Ramshackle dorm, the late nights you spent sitting on the counter talking with him as he made Kalim’s lunch for the next day. Everything about you left him blushing and you weren’t just a friend anymore. 

“I...” Jamil struggled to form a sentence with his sudden realization. Grim sighed, exasperated, not wanting to be around Jamil’s identity crisis anymore. “I love them?” 

“Yes! Now kiss them before I snap!” 

Jamil felt his face heat up with the thought of kissing you. Of course he had thought about it before but it wasn’t usually an actual option. 

“If it will really fix the curse...” Jamil wavered, hesitantly bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. He pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning his forehead against yours. 

It wasn’t long before the pace of your breathing quickened and your eyelids fluttered open. You stared at Jamil's serene expression before smiling and pressing a kiss to his nose. His eyes snapped open and widened as he pulled back in surprise.

"You're..." Jamil coughed in embarrassment as he averted his eyes to hide his heating face. "You're awake."

"I am."

"After I..."

"Kissed me?"

Jamil bit his lip as he felt himself become more flustered. You couldn't help from giggling as his emotions became more visible on his face.

"Might I humbly request, as your true love, to return the favor?"

...

🦁 Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Leona looked at Grim incredulously. Grim puffed up against Leona's confusion.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Grim protested loudly, causing Leona to roll his eyes.

"True love? Everyone knows that's just in fairy tales," Leona scoffed, turning away from Grim. He tried not to stare at your peaceful sleeping face, opting to look out the window instead.

"Not when you're as down bad as you are," Grim muttered under his breath, loud enough for Leona to hear. If Leona weren't so worried about you, he would've had the right mind to throw that stupid cat out in the dirt.

"I'm not kissing that nasty herbivore and that's final," Leona huffed, sending one last glance your way before standing up to leave.

"Stop being so stubborn and admit that you're in love with my henchman!" Leona gritted his teeth at Grim's exclamation. "If you don't, they might never wake up!"

Leona froze in place. He hadn't thought about that. Even in the few hours that you had been gone, he had noticed your absence. He had never payed much mind to any of the students around him, not caring about their perception of him, until you. You stuck with him despite how many times he had brushed you off or insulted you. He had wanted you to leave him alone at first but now his quips held no malice, often even sparking a retort from you that even, on occasion, made him laugh. No one ever made him laugh.

The more he thought about your relationship, the more he realized how you had worked your way into his daily routine. When you were sick, he immediately noticed that you didn't look for him in between classes or meet up with him in the botanical gardens during lunch. You were a part of him now, whether you liked it or not.

Leona sighed and turned back around. Grim stood with his hands on his hips in a triumphant pose. One snarl from Leona and he was running for the door with his tail between his legs.

Leona sat next to you and allowed himself a hint of a smile as he watched your body shift with your breaths. He scoffed as if to scold himself and pressed a quick peck to your lips. Despite how short the kiss was, he couldn't help himself from wanting more. Of course he wasn't about to take it while you were asleep.

"That's all I get?"

"Well, yeah, I'm not about to..."

Leona freezed as he realized you were speaking. He looked to your face where you were smirking with droopy eyes. He tried to contain his excitement but his upright tail indicated his happiness.

"Not about to what?"

"I'm not gonna make out with you while you're asleep, herbivore. That's predator behavior. And not the good kind of predator either!"

"How about now that I'm awake?"

Leona raised an eyebrow at your insinuation.

"Would you make out with me now?"

He smirked and leaned his arm against your pillow.

"Maybe if you ask nicely."

"Oh, just shut up!"

You rolled your eyes before grabbing his chin and bringing his lips to yours in a gentle but passionate kiss.

[jaynahh]

I AM IN DESPERATE NEED OF MORE OLDER SIBLING XIAO, KAZUHA, AND SCARA CONTENT.

ur writing is literally so good im in love......

anyway UHHH older sibling xiao, kazuha, and scara with a stupid younger (technically adopted) sibling!!! turns out theres a reason for their stupidity

(y/n was basically sheltered and isolated by their 'parents' which is why they're so dumb in anything they do)

Xiao + Kazuha + Scara with a Little Sibling!Reader

Hmhm thank you. Sorry it's late.

Part two here.

Strictly platonic. Slight mention of tics. Spoilers for Scara's real name.

Xiao:

Xiao is not the most knowledgeable of mortal life, and he understands that.

But you, only a child that does not know literally anything about the outside world? It reminds him of an animal that was born sheltered, not knowing of how much potential they could've had outside.

Xiao feels bad he doesn't know how to help. In fact, both of you need help. But still, Xiao has taken on the role of a caring older brother, so he just has to help in some way.

He doesn't lose hope, though. He knows more than you, obviously. Xiao's lived thousands of years.

Your big brother may not be that big of a help in social situations. If you accidentally use the wrong tone towards someone in a conversation, and that person gets angry with you... Xiao will not hesitate to defend you.

He's a little too intimidating. Xiao has learned that a simple glare would get those mortals to shut up, so he does just that.

He tries to comfort you. You're confused with recieving comfort aswell.

At first, Xiao is embarrassed that you get all confused when he tries to make you feel better about yourself. Then, he thinks of how aweful your parents must've been.

At first, he wants to stop embarrassing himself. Yet Xiao thinks, who else will teach you, care for you? Soon, Xiao will completey drop his tsundere act, and openly show love to you as your big brother.

His love language is quality time, preferebly in silence, just knowing that you're alive and next to him.

During this time, Xiao likes to take you on nature walks, away from the harbour and inn. He finds places to sit, watch leaves and bushes sway in the wind, and possibly pet some wild animals.

But he knows that you should learn normal human life. So on some days, your big brother decides to take you around the harbour.

On your little walks around Liyue harbour, you're not the only one learning about mortal life.

Your bond is so strong. Sometimes, you find yourself getting trapped in one of his hugs. Actually, this has happened so many times, you understand completely what Xiao wants to say, to communicate, to let you know.

He might even give you gentle, hesitant, slow headpats.

Everyday, you are reminded how your big brother is trying so hard. Xiao wants you to have a happy life, and he's doing everything he can to achieve it. But, if you being "happy" means staying with him, then he'll gladly take you in his arms.

He loves you, he hopes you know that. He wants to tell you how proud he is of you, of all your progress getting over your isolated past.

Kazuha:

Kazuha thinks you're cute.

He feels scared, maybe paranoid when he has to leave you alone. But he shouldn't worry too much, he always feels a sense of urgency in the wind whenever you're in danger.

When Kazuha finds out about your parents and what they did to you, he feels upset. It almost angers him. You should've been allowed to go outside and explore the world, especially in the early stages of life.

So, he takes it upon himself, as your big brother, to show you all he knows.

Sometimes, when you do something stupid, like actually befriending a hilichurl... Kazuha would cheer you on. He knows what it's like to feel embarrassed, and he definitely does not want to be the cause of your embarrassment. Plus, you're just too cute.

He buys clothes you say look cute, and gift them to you. If you like sweets, Kazuha's going to give you little cat shaped sweets. At first you thought you were supposed to feed them to cats... But Kazuha thought you looked cute, so he took a little picture with his Kamera.

One time you accidentally said something rude to a person. Kazuha apoligized, which led you to apoligize aswell, but the person was still mad.

The next day, you and Kazuha were walking around in the city when you saw that same person, with backup. And they looked furious. One of them even said, "Get them!"

Kazuha reacted quickly before they could catch you. "Now isn't this going too far?" He questioned while grabbing your hand, using his anemo vision to blow a strong gust of wind to stop the group, and running away with you. With an innocent smile.

Kazuha knows since you've been pretty sheltered, you don't know much slang or big confusing words. So, around you Kazuha speaks easy, almost bad English.

But often when you two cuddle or hang out alone, your big brother tells you how much he loves you with poems, haikus, confusing words, old English, all that. It's like your big brother's speaking another language– Yet you somewhat understand after seeing that smile on his face.

Kazuha smiles so much around you, you probably developed a smiling tic, where your eyes close and you smile. Whenever you two greet each other, Kazuha's welcomed with that little close eyed smile of yours.

He thinks it's so adorable, your big brother always cups your face in his hands before giving you a little hug.

Will blow wind towards you, blowing your hair back, to see you smile.

One goal of his is to make you completely forget about your past, and your biological family. Another goal is to hug you everyday, another goal is to see you smile everyday, another goal is to tell you he loves you everyday, another goal—

You don't know a lot of things, and Kazuha helps you with that. But if you know that he is your big brother, and he loves you unconditionally, Kazuha will feel content and happy with you, which he already is.

Scaramouche:

At first, he thought you were so annoying. Did he really have to teach you how to do everything?

Occasionally he has yelled at you. But he always feels a weird sense of guilt he never felt before.

Scaramouche somehow finds out you've been sheltered by your biological family, that's why you acted so stupid.

He doesn't know how to feel about it. The next time Scaramouche sees you, he instantly feels regret. Now he's the one feeling stupid.

His face always softens around you. He's made a secret promise to himself that he'll never yell at you again.

Scara will take your hand to get you close to him, under his huge hat. He says it's so you don't get lost, but it's actually to protect you and for people to not mess with you.

Your big brother buys steals you kimonos, if you like those. Same with dango milk, and everything else.

Scaramouche will drop everything for you. You're way more important than what he was just doing.

"Well, look who it is." Scaramouche had his arms crossed. He was in a domain filled with electro.

He turned around. "Delighted to meet you again, traveler." The blonde switched to a fighting stance. "Hm. You already look like you want me dead."

The traveler sensed another presence enter the room, but had no time to pay attention to it, since the Balladeer could attack when the opponent was not focused.

"You've grown weak." "Big brother?" Scaramouche jolted.

He uncrossed his arms and looked to the side, seeing you approach him. Your big brother was hesitant to turn his attention to you, giving the traveler a side glare. Well, the traveler couldn't be stupid enough to attack him, right infront of his innocent little sibling, right?

Scaramouche kneeled down to your height. "Y/n, I told you not to come here, it's dangerous." His face relaxed, but still confused, asking for an explanation. In the corner of his eye, he could see the traveler's stance ease up and hide their sword.

"But I missed you." Scara tipped his hat backwards to see you better. He sighed after a moment.

"Alright, alright. I'll come visit you when I'm done, okay?" Your big brother gave you a quick hug. "Just go back for now."

You nodded. After giving the traveler a curious look, you came back from where you were.

Scaramouche stood up, crossing his arms again. "Th-The Balladeer? A little sibling!?" A squeaky Paimon voice shouted. The traveler has a ready stance again.

The harbinger scoffed. "Everyone has a family at some point in our lives, whether we like it or not." The traveler has more of an understanding of Scaramouche now.

If you're having trouble speaking for yourself, Scaramouche will gladly help you.

He desperately tries to keep you away from Childe. If you meet that ginger, you'll think he's a better big brother than Scara. He's scared you'll leave him. He doesn't want that happening.

Scaramouche doesn't want you calling him by his fatui name. He doesn't want you to call him someone that has multiple crimes to his name. Instead, he tells you his name is Kunikuzushi.

He's not used to being called by Kunikuzushi anymore, so it always warms his heart whenever you call him that.

[takamikeiigos]

• though keigo tends to be loud, seemingly carefree, and outgoing, he's convinced himself that hero work is his #1 priority and he has zero time to be getting all up in a tizzy about feelings

• this man probably doesn't even know what a long, meaningful hug feels like. but what does it matter because he's a hero, he doesn't have time to be mulling over that kinda stuff

• now don't get me wrong, keigo has all of the basic human wants and needs for love, affection, companionship, etc. but has managed to tuck those thoughts away deep in the back of his mind

• so he spends his free time alone watching movies by himself while eating takeout, or finding somewhere high on the skyline to perch upon while the breeze caresses him and gives him comfort while he's deep in his thoughts

• when it comes to his avian characteristics and needs, he knows many people don't understand so he tends to them himself

• long tiresome processes of preening his own wings, often getting aggravated when he can't reach a spot or can't get certain feathers to lay flat

• or when it's that time of the season and he continuously chooses to go through his ruts alone because he hasn't allowed himself time to slow down and properly take care of it, because he grew up too fast and exploring his own wants and needs was never an option

• let's talk about keigo nesting during a rut bc of pure instinct but suddenly coming to the harsh reality that he has no one to share it with

• ouch

• imagine the first time he meets you

• you think he's probably the most loud and obnoxious motherfucker you've ever met but he grows on you over time

• its only after spending a bit of time by his side that you realize little things about him that kinda break your heart

• he smiles and jokes around a lot, but when you catch him deep in thought or slipping you notice the vacant stares that make him seem far, far away

• or the fact that he doesn't touch people unless they prompt first, whether it's a high five or a pat on the shoulder, but his hands mostly remain in his pockets or by his sides otherwise

• so it breaks your heart even more when you go to give him a quick hug before checking out for the day and he completely tenses up, clearly not sure how to react

• it occupies most of your thoughts that night, before it finally dawns on you that keigo didn't reciprocate because he didn't know how to (not literally, of course)

• from then on you touch him more often - like gently putting your hand on his shoulder when you're reaching over him, or placing your hand on the small of his back when moving around him

• over-all you're in his space more, always standing a few inches closer so your shoulders touch or your hands brush

• but let's talk about that one time you both go on a mission together and keigo gets knocked around a lil bit

• you're finally able to catch up to him and the idiot is standing there covered in bruises, feathers missing and his hero outfit almost torn to shreds, and he has the audacity to smile at you like he didn't just get knocked into next week

• he tenses again when you run up to him and pull him into a frantic hug, worry ebbing from your entire being but grateful that he's still standing and alive

• but the exhaustion finally catches up to him and its then that his wall comes crashing down, his arms wrapping around you like he's clinging to you for dear life, and his head is resting on your shoulder, coming free of all those heavy thoughts he's been carrying with him

• things slowly change after that

• months later you two end up together, like two pieces of a puzzle that were lost but finally found, a relief of a perfect fit

• he texts you constantly - whether it's of things that remind him of you, or a picture of a cat he saw while on patrols, or even just to let you know you mean the world to him

• when you’re both together he almost always ends up being the one to initiate physical contact now, staying close in your space and his hand always rest against you

• on nights after a long day of patrolling, he'll come over and you'll put a movie on, cuddling close together on the couch while eating the most unhealthy junk food you could find to take the edge off

• you catch him smiling to himself one of those times, and when you look at him curiously, he shakes his head and laughs quietly

• "'s nothing baby bird, just nice to finally have someone to do this with"

• on another tiresome evening of patrolling, he flies through your bedroom window (you always leave it unlocked and open for him) and perches on your windowsill

• you can instantly tell something is bothering him by the way he's holding himself, his wings twitching and his body tense

• so you beckon him to come sit on your bed with you, thinking maybe a back rub will ease the tension. but when he finally sits down in front of you, the disarray of tangled feathers is the answer to your unasked questions

• you tell him to relax and he does, but when you hesitantly run your fingers against his feathers he nearly jumps out of his skin

• you pull your hand away as if it was burned and when you ask if you accidentally hurt him, he flushes and avoids eye contact

• "no! no, you didn't hurt me. they're just.. sensitive. 'm just not used to people touching them like that. but it.. it feels good"

• so you continue running your fingers through his feathers gently, making sure they're all in place and pulling the loose ones from his wings

• he’s all breathy sighs underneath your hands and you swear you hear him cooing every once in a while and your heart melts at the amount of intimacy and trust

• it turns into a ritual after rough days, and neither of you mind it

《《 NSFW 》》

• so look, i’m not saying keigo is a virgin but we're gonna keep going with this little needy & touch starved trend we got going. to each their own

• keigo loves being touched, but he also loves touching you

• i’m talking always pressing up against you when you’re both alone, face nuzzled in your neck while biting and licking, hands on your hips and squeezing

• clinging to you when you’re about to get out of bed, or sneaking into the shower with you bc he misses your warmth and is craving some skin on skin contact, his head nuzzled into your shoulder and his arms wrapped around you from behind

• tbh he’s probably still half asleep as he does this, too. you basically have him completely limp in your arms when you turn to start scrubbing his hair

• i’m getting a little off topic, huh?

• he’s always trying to get your attention, especially when he knows you’re busy

• he’s almost always breathless when things get hot and heavy, nearly falling apart over a make-out session

• but when you finally get him out of his clothes and on the bed where you want him, the experience is one you want to relive forever

• he’s got this wonton facial expression, chest flushed and wings puffed out, lips parted with unspoken pleas as you touch him

• the first time you even touch his dick he nearly loses it, head tossed back and fingers gripping the sheets

• "fuck.. fuck that feels so good dove, please don't stop"

• he’s so sensitive, his skin feels like it might burst into flames because of how worked-up he's getting

• the sight of him falling apart from a simple hand job is a sight to see, something you weren't expecting to get you going but it is

• you stroke him slow, your grip just loose enough where he ends up having to work for it, all the while you're gauging his expressions

• keigo is a talker, loud and completely unashamed of the filth pouring from his lips as he fucks up into your fist, his jaw slack and his brown pinched in pleasure and concentration

• "please baby, right there. god, you feel so fucking good, please don't stop. fuuuuck"

• when you decide to touch his wings out of sheer curiosity, you weren't expecting to his reaction to turn you on as much as it did

• keigo arching off the bed with a broken "f-fuck!", yanking you forward into a harsh kiss as he moans broken please and appraisals into your mouth, whining

• he finally comes in thick spurts over your hand, his hips stuttering as he thrusts upward to milk the final drops of his come, chest heaving and breathy pants falling against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair

• touch starved, needy, and sensitive

don't get me started on my man's going into a rut. whoo, good stuff.

sorry this is so long!! i got very carried away once i got into it.

if anyone wants to request anything, please do?? i would love that, especially since I'm trying to learn more about this beautiful bird-boy. nonetheless i hope y'all enjoyed!!

♡ ky