#what i would give for just a tiny crumb of this man

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price - Green Hell (1940)

[deus-ex-mona]

scrolled a little too far back on mogetwt and found pure gold:

[utahimeow]

cw — reader and gojo have a daughter, established marriage, gojo is sad but reader comforts him

satoru gojo is not a man of many fears. heights, spiders, needles, death—fearing these is alien to a man who’s looked death itself in the eye and refused to let it touch him. however the words that his five-almost-six year-old daughter just uttered send shivers down his spine.

he’s frozen, eyes wide, face pale. he thinks his lungs stop working and his heart stops beating.

big, blue eyes round as a bug’s stare up at him, oblivious to the implications of it all.

the sentence echoes in his head like a taunt. he thinks he’ll hear it in his nightmares tonight.

then, her little hand as she tugs on his pant leg yanks him back to reality.

“daddy, i said my tooth fell out!”

satoru gulps, gaze falling to the crumb of bone in her hand, then to the tiny gap that’s now in the front of her mouth.

he didn’t think it would happen so soon.

you’re home from work not long later and the girl rushes to greet you at the door, screeching with delight to announce the loss of her tooth to you.

you’re gasping dramatically, gathering her up in your arms as she gives you a gummy smile so wide her eyes scrunch shut. staring at her is like looking in a mirror, a perpetually perfect reflection of you and your love combined into one small being.

“it didn’t hurt, did it?” you ask her.

“nope! i didn’t even cry,” she tells you, beaming with pride.

“oh, how brave you are,” you tell her, kissing her soft cheeks, grinning as her giggles bubble throughout the entire foyer.

she wriggles out of your grasp and then she’s off again, bounding back upstairs to her room to the pile of plushies upon her bed so she can continue to brew up tales and backstories for each of them. now that both her mother and father have heard her big news, she’s satisfied enough for it to no longer need to be on her mind.

you’re not surprised to find satoru in the kitchen, rummaging through the snack cupboard. you are surprised at the fact that he doesn’t turn to greet you like he always does. with a pout, you stride over to his towering frame and snake your arms around his slender waist, pressing yourself flush to him.

“hi, lover,” you hum.

in your embrace, satoru becomes lighter. the tension in his hard muscles lifts, his shoulders dropping, his back shedding the weight of the world.

“hi, pretty,” he replies, uncharacteristically quiet, yet somehow his voice still drips with affection for you.

“what’s the matter?” you ask him. you’re well aware of your husband’s melodramatic nature, and it’s because of that that you don’t find yourself worrying over his state of despair. still, you’re rather filled with a curiosity—what minuscule nonsensical issue has him down today? did they discontinue his favourite kitkat flavour?

hands migrating up his torso and finding his chest, you squeeze your fingers into the fat of his pectorals. in the blink of an eye, satoru is facing you and his cold hands have grabbed hold of your wrists. he grins down at you softly, amused by your antics as always, but you blink again and his face drops, growing almost grave.

“talk to me,” you urge, prying. his soft grasp leaves your wrists, moving to envelop your hands which drown in his. he brings them to his lips, kissing at your fingertips, making your heart beat in your ears and your face grow hot. it’s strange to think he once shrivelled away from your affection, convinced he was not worthy of it.

“how was work?” he asks.

“fine. good. same as always,” you tell him. “but you’re avoiding my question. and your feelings.”

he shakes his head, a child through and through. “tell me about your day.”

“satoru,” you say, stern, and it feels like you’re scolding your daughter for not listening to you. “i hate it when you’re… off like this.”

his eyes pierce through yours then, filled with unspoken apology. then, he exhales, long and hard, a sigh that’s heavy with weariness. for you, he’s learned to surrender.

“our daughter losing her tooth today made me realise that she’s getting older and i can’t stop it,” he admits.

you sigh along with him, half relieved that your conscience had been right in believing that it wasn’t anything serious. well, in the sense that no one had died. the rest of you knows he’s not being irrational. since becoming a father, and even before that, when having children was just a distant fantasy for him, an anxiety had lived inside of him. an anxiety of fucking up, of being inherently unsuited to fatherhood, of the idea that she may suffer the consequences of him being her father.

and now, a new anxiety sprouts.

“true, but we get to watch her grow, satoru. don’t you think that’s amazing?”

he stays silent, mouth forming an absentminded pout.

“i just keep thinking about when she was a baby… how tiny she was, how she would waddle around, and drool on my chest. soon she won’t be my little girl anymore, you know?”

“satoru,” you say firmly. your hands curl around the back of his neck, scratching at the snowy hairs of his undercut. “she’ll always be your little girl. i know that because she’s your whole world, and you’re hers. she may never be that little baby again, but she’ll never be as little as she is now either, so love and cherish her now instead of moping about the inevitable passage of time.”

satoru smiles a dopey smile at you, the same one his daughter has.

“i’m so glad i married you,” he says. his hands are warm now as they settle on your lower back, dipping down, down, down.

you roll your eyes at him, opening your mouth to reply with something witty, but he beats you to it.

“i’m being serious now, baby. you always know what to say when i’m being stupid.”

“when you’re being overdramatic, you mean,” you say, grinning playfully.

“hey, it just shows that i care, doesn’t it?”

you pull him down to your face by his neck and kiss him, moulding your lips against his, tender and warm and home. it’s not just his thoughts that melt away when he kisses you, it’s his entire head, until all that’s left is a man with nothing but his wife on his mind, heart beating for no reason other than to keep him alive so that he can keep thinking about you.

briefly, you pull away, in spite of how he chases your lips with his, because he could kiss you until the end of time and you could do the very same, but there’s something weighing on your mind suddenly.

“if you want a second baby i can make that happen, by the way,” you tell him, your hips pressing against his.

“oh, now you want another one? but every time i ask for one i get an earful? heh,” he says, quirking a brow, but unfortunately for him he’s hard in his pants in an instant.

“yeah, but now i feel bad for you.”

“babe, i don’t want a kid out of pity!”

[glassbxttless]

Maybe I want to see Sam being petulant. Just for funsies.

Like as soon as you sit down on the couch he’s saying he wants a snack. Or maybe could you get him a beer? Just this once please, his leg, you see, it really hurts today. Oh and the topical cream, makes his hands tingly and he can’t get up to wash them after, so…. Do you mind?

I just think it could be fun.

Counter-Offer

sam o’brien (warfare) x fem!reader

word count: 1k+

summary: You’re exhausted, but Sam’s having a bad leg day.

warnings: sam’s just a bit of an ass lmao. there’s some alcohol consumption and mentions of pain medicine. some swearing.

notes: i really do enjoy writing sam! all requests are written in my little sam universe unless otherwise explicitly stated. This one was fun, a little hard to write but fun nonetheless. thank you to @getaapologist for the request and for reading this baby over. and thank you to @peachyproserpina for editing! means the world!

It’s been a long day, between running late this morning on account of Sam’s whispers of “just come back to bed,” and hazy morning kisses, and the mountain of paperwork at your desk as soon as you stepped over the threshold of your office, and you wanted nothing more than to just come in and relax. Sam’s on the couch when you step inside. The remote resting against his chest and his leg and head are propped up on  pillows. You kick your shoes off and toss your bag and jacket into a heap on the floor to deal with later. You make your way to the recliner and you’ve barely just sat down— you didn’t get that end-of-day, full-body collapse kind of sit into your favorite spot that would swallow you whole if you let it. No, as soon as your ass brushes the cushion, Sam’s twisting his head around on the pillow to give you the most pleading eyes he could muster.

“Babe,” his voice is real soft when he speaks, like he knows that if he starts gentle, everything will work out in his favor. “You think maybe you could grab me a snack?”

You look over, your bones feeling weary as you want nothing more than the softness of the recliner to swallow you up. “You’ve been home all day. You had snacks when we were on the phone… twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah,” his voice is still quiet, like he’s ten and being scolded. “But I ate them.”

Your eyes narrow. “You ate that entire thing?”

Sam shrugs, guiltily proud. “In my defense, you bought the good pretzels. The honey mustard ones.”

You stare at him for a few moments. He stares right back. The silence stretches between you. You’re in a weird half down, half up, sit. He blinks first. “Okay, okay, sweetheart, counter-offer?” he smiles a bit, wriggling his foot. “Just a beer. One beer. Yeah? I deserve one. My leg is killing me today.”

You raise a brow. “Is it?”

“Yes,” he says immediately, like he wasn’t being a petulant child. 

“You take your pain medicine?” You ask softly, if he has gotten himself into hurting as bad as he says; he can deal with it. 

“Yeah, of course I did,” he’s quick to answer. “With breakfast. A Jimmy Dean sausage sandwich.”

You sigh and stand up, making your way to the kitchen. You do indeed find his painkillers on the counter, a sausage biscuit wrapper right next to it, and an empty beer bottle already in the garbage. Sam grins, victorious. You can feel his smugness like heat from a fire. He’s basking in it. You sigh, placing the pill bottle back into the cabinet where all of the other medicines are. And then you’re brushing the wrapper into the garbage, along with the crumbs, grumbling to yourself about cleaning up after a grown man. You grab a beer from the fridge and make your way back to the living room. You hand him the beer and go to sit down again, but his voice stops you— again— right before you make contact with your seat.

“Oh, uh, babe? One more tiny thing, please? The topical cream.”

Your eyes close and you let a breath out your nose— calming, soothing, you can’t kill him right now. “The what now?”

He holds up his hands, in a mock surrender. “The one for my leg, you know the one? The one that makes my hands all tingly. I can’t— like, if I touch anything, I might ruin the couch. And I can’t get up to wash them after, so… do you mind?”

You glare at him from where you had finally given in and sat down. But he gives you those eyes. The big brown ones you had fallen in love with so many years ago. The ones that say, I’m annoying but adorable and you love me anyway. And damn it, he’s not wrong. You push yourself up and walk off to the bathroom for the cream, muttering under your breath about how this is exactly how divorces happen. Sam calls after you, “You’re a hero, babe, you know that? Gonna marry you one day!”

When you return, you step over Whiskey who had parked it right in front of the couch. And you carefully lift both of his legs, sliding in beneath them. He winces dramatically and says, “Ouch. My leg, baby. Show some compassion.”

You roll your eyes, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” You mumble as you roll the bottom of his shorts up to expose more of his skin. You uncap the tube and gently start to work the cream into his skin, even if he winces every now and again. Your fingers work diligently, quietly, eyes fixated on the scarred skin beneath your touch. You know it has to hurt, even if Sam has been playing it up more than he needs to. But you also know Sam tries his best to hide it away from anyone, even you, on his really bad days. You catch a glimpse of him, his eyes on the tv. Each time your fingers come close to a particularly tender spot— his jaw twitches, his eyes shut for just a moment, and he lets out a breath you know he’s trying to make soundless.

But now you’re finally sitting down. Actually sitting. Maybe not relaxing all the way, but you’re sitting. He cracks open the beer and clinks it against your arm like it’s a toast. “To you. The love of my life. My nurse, my bartender, my emotional support human.”

“You’re a fuck, you know that?” you mutter, moving your hand down to squeeze his shin lovingly anyway. 

He smiles, takes a long sip from the beer, and hums before he turns away from the tv, his eyes on yours. “God, I love you. We should get married.”

“After 10 years and you almost dying, this is what finally gets me a proposal?” You roll your eyes, still working the cream into his skin. You can feel the tension starting to melt away, he’s starting to relax finally. 

Sam just brings the bottle to his lips for a drink before holding it out to you, smiling. You take it and bring it to your own, letting your eyes close for just a moment as you drink. “I would’ve married you 10 years ago, sweetheart.”

tags ;; @getaapologist

[httpsdana]

hey!

love your work! i was wondering if you could do one about pau cubarsi and they get a pet and she pays all her attention to the pet and pau gets jealous or smthg?

thank you sm 💕

Puppy Love~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

From the moment y/n and Pau brought home their new puppy, Mochi, it was pure love. They'd both been so excited, planning out every little detail: his bed, his toys, the cutest little collar, and spending way too long debating whether “Mochi” or “Tofu” was the perfect name. Eventually, Mochi won out, and now here he was, a fluffy little ball of mischief that they both adored like their own child.

Pau was obsessed from the start. He would cradle Mochi in his arms, cooing, “Mi amor, look at him! He’s already the most handsome boy in the world. Right, Mochi? You’re perfect.”

She'd laugh at his cuteness, running her fingers through Mochi’s soft fur. “Wow, I think I have some competition now.”

Pau smirked, giving her a wink. “Sorry, cariño. Mochi and I? Unstoppable duo. He’s basically my mini-me.”

“Oh, so he’s already dramatic about mealtimes and leaving crumbs everywhere?” she teased with a smile

Pau gasped, clutching his chest. “Excuse me, I am not dramatic, and I clean up my crumbs… sometimes.”

The early days with Mochi were filled with laughter and cuddles, both of them cooing over every little thing he did. The two of them doted on him together, taking turns waking up in the middle of the night when he’d whimper or need to go outside, racing each other to see who could make it to Mochi first when he called for attention.

But soon, Pau’s schedule got a bit busier. He was away more for practices and games, and y/n found herself spending more and more time with Mochi. While Pau was out, she'd have little “puppy and me” dates, complete with treats, belly rubs, and mini photoshoots where she would send the funniest pictures to Pau, captioned with things like, Look at your competition or Mochi says he’s the new man of the house.

Pau would text back immediately. No way. Mochi can’t be half as charming as me. But then he’d send three heart emojis and demand more photos.

One evening, after a long day, Pau came home, eager for some quality time. He walked in to see y/n sprawled on the couch with Mochi stretched out across her chest, his tiny head resting comfortably as she scratched his belly.

Pau stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms and giving her both an exaggerated pout. “I’m gone for a few hours, and this is what I come back to?”

She looked up, stifling a laugh at the face he was making. “Jealous of Mochi, are we?”

He put a hand to his chest, looking utterly wounded. “Me? Jealous? Absolutely. This used to be my spot, you know,” he grumbled, nodding at the spot on her chest where Mochi was curled up. “I used to get those head scratches, too.”

“Oh, bebé, come here,” she cooed, setting Mochi down gently before opening her arms. Pau took his chance, practically launching himself onto the couch to snuggle up to her.

“Finally,” he sighed dramatically, burying his face in her neck. “About time you give me some attention.” His tone was teasing, but he looked so adorable that she couldn’t help but laugh.

y/n wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Aww, you poor thing. Mochi just missed you. I missed you, too,” she said, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Oh, good. Because I was about to start howling for attention myself,” he joked, causing her to burst out laughing.

“Maybe Mochi has been teaching you a thing or two,” she teased, ruffling Pau’s hair just like she did with Mochi.

Pau grinned, snuggling closer. “So, you’re saying I need to be more puppy-like? Alright then.” He scrunched up his face and gave a dramatic little whimper, making puppy eyes at her.

She playfully rolled her eyes, laughing as she stroked his hair. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously cute?” he asked with a hopeful grin, his eyes twinkling as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Alright, yes, ridiculously cute,” she admitted, kissing him softly.

Mochi, clearly curious about the attention shift, clambered back onto the couch, settling down between y/n and Pau, his little tail wagging as he looked up at the two of them.

Pau raised an eyebrow, looking at Mochi. “Oh no, you’re not stealing my girl again,” he warned playfully. “Go on, go chew a toy or something.”

But Mochi just flopped down, resting his little head on her lap, looking far too adorable to move.

Pau sighed, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. My own puppy is trying to sabotage me,” he said, though his face softened as he reached over to scratch Mochi’s ears. “Alright, fine, maybe we can share the lap.”

y/n laughed, leaning over to give Pau a kiss. “Face it, babe, we’re a package deal now. You, me, and Mochi.”

Pau’s face lit up as he kissed her back, pulling her closer. “As long as I get first dibs on goodnight kisses. Deal?”

“Deal,” she agreed, grinning as she wrapped herself up in his embrace, Mochi happily snuggled between them.

From that day on, Pau made sure to reclaim his spot in the cutest ways— “accidentally” bumping Mochi aside to curl up in her lap or dramatically announcing his need for “emergency cuddles” whenever he saw her petting the puppy. The three of them settled into a perfectly fluffy routine, filled with laughter, and many sweet moments.

In the end, they both knew they’d created a little family, with enough love to go around—Mochi included, of course.

[mollywog]

Hi!

I can't stop thinking about this scenario i'm your complicated universe:

Burdock is now showing off his granddaughter.

Thank you for letting me know: I’m so tickled!! It inspired me to write a small addition.

For context, Complicated is an in-Panem AU where Mr. Everdeen lives and this would have happened anyway happens much sooner.

Shout out to all who suggested names for the Toastbaby girl for this universe!

Haymitch first saw the girl at the Hob when she was just a baby. Burdock was so proud of her, toting her everywhere. Katniss soon outgrew his arms, trailing behind him with her own scrawny squirrels on her belt, until she was striding beside him with just as much to show as her old man.

They’d never mended the old wound, he and Burdock, but he still paid particular attention to the Everdeens. That way, if Lenore Dove’s ghost ever came to him, he’d be able to tell her of her kin— at least that’s what he told himself.

And recently there’d been a new branch added to the family tree.

Haymitch had watched the girl— Katniss, over the last several months as her belly’d swelled near splitting, until he’d worked himself up worrying it’d be twins— but then he’d learned the father was one of Otho’s boys and her size had made sense.

He’s heard she delivered— a healthy little girl, but it’s just luck that he’s at the Hob today when Burdie arrives, his bundle in tow.

He doesn’t see her right away, just the unmistakable pride on his old friend’s face as he introduces her around.

Haymitch has no reason to linger, his business with Ripper complete, but he can’t resist the urge to get a peek of the girl and any information he can glean, so he sidles up to Sae’s stall and sits at the booth. He ignores the old woman’s raised brow, carelessly pulling a fistful of coins from his pocket. Gone is the bribe and the questioning looks as the bowl of something he rather not contemplate slides across the counter. He hunches over the stew, running his spoon through the sludge, straining his ears to catch crumbs as Burdock moves closer.

Bits and pieces of conversations float over the chatter and Haymitch’s chest tightens at the sound of his friend's voice, so achingly familiar and comforting despite all the years, until the girl’s name shakes him out of his revelry.

Olive?

He scoffs, frowning at Sae’s knowing smirk.

Like the food? He supposes it’s an improvement from the tuberous roots for which mother and grandfather are named…

But no, it’s not just a food. He turns the name over again. It’s a color— green— a dark yellowish green like the moss that’s begun to grow over Lenore Dove’s grave stone, though he doubts that’s what the happy parents were imagining when they picked it. Still a nod to Burdie’s family perhaps? But color alone does not a Covey name make. He briefly wonders if there’s a ballad of Olive Mellark.

He really hopes not.

But there’s still something that nags at the back of his muddled mind. He closes his eyes to clear his head, but instead an image floods his memory: the floor of a Justice building on his tour long ago— a mosaic depicting a bird with a bough — no, that's not quite right— a dove with an olive branch.

He breaks into a sweat and his stomach rolls. Unbidden, his eyes seek out the source of his distress; the tiny girl, swaddled in a dove colored blanket, with a muted orange ribbon accenting the scalloped edge.

It’s as if someone has walked over his grave— no, not his— Lenore Dove’s— but aren't they the same thing? They’re a matched pair, mated for life, more married than any piece of paper could make them. And that girl is his kin too. Beloved and endangered if he cannot fulfill his promise to Lenore Dove.

“Don’t you . . . let it . . . rise . . . on the reaping”

He stands abruptly, knocking the stool over in his wake. He gives the girl— no, Olive, one final look before retreating back to his house. He won’t waste another minute; There’s work to be done.

[nymphaura777]

Stop Manifesting a Text and Start Manifesting a LOVE STORY

If you’re sitting around, staring at your phone, refreshing messages like it’s a damn stock market crash, I need you to stop. Right now.

You’re out here trying to manifest a tiny, insignificant text when you could be manifesting the whole damn relationship. A text? A notification? That’s crumbs. You deserve the whole damn cake, PERIODT.

Manifesting text?

When you’re focused on manifesting a text, you’re basically telling the universe:

“I just want a little attention.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“I don’t believe I can have the full love I desire, so I’ll settle.”

And the universe? It listens. It gives you exactly what you assume is possible.

So yeah, maybe you get a message—maybe a random “hey” at 2 AM that means absolutely nothing, maybe you'll do a cute little dance at that time or would be texting your bsf "HE MESSAGED ME!!!" but does it really matter at the end of the day?

Or maybe? You get silence. Why? Because you’re thinking too small. You’re not in the energy of someone who is cherished, adored, and pursued.

And let’s be real do you want a text, or do you want a man who is OBSESSED with you?

Love story? Definitely yes.

Do you want him like this....???

He’s texting you first, every morning, because you’re the first thing on his mind.

He’s planning dates, showing up, and making effort because he can’t stand the thought of losing you.

He’s obsessed with you in a way that makes even the most romantic movies look basic.

He’s showing up in your life as the version of him that worships the ground you walk on.

THAT is what you should be manifesting. Not some weak-ass “wyd?” text that doesn’t mean a damn thing!!!!

Solution? Let Celeste tell you.

Stop manifesting from desperation. Every time you check your phone, wondering if he texted, you’re reaffirming the fact that he hasn’t. You’re sitting in lack, in waiting, in “why isn’t it happening?” mode. That’s the energy of someone who isn’t chosen.And that’s NOT you.

Start assuming he already adores you. Manifestation isn’t about “making” things happen—it’s about having things already done. So stop wanting a text and start assuming: “Of course he’s in love with me. Of course he’s thinking about me. Of course he’s planning our future together.” That’s the energy of someone who knows they are loved, and the universe will mirror it back. Universe is the best mirror yk that?

Romanticize the HELL out of your love life. You want a man who worships you? Start acting like someone who is worshipped. Walk, talk, and breathe like the version of you who is already in the most breathtaking, passionate, committed love story. No matter how bad your love life has been in past. Just. Act. Like. You. Are. Already. Worshipped. How would you feel if you're worshipped from that guy? What emotions would you feel? What your brain would whisper if he had moved mountains just for you. Yeah. Think like that.

Let the universe do its job. Stop checking. Stop waiting. Stop reacting. Start assuming it’s unfolding perfectly. If you needed to chase, beg, or constantly check your phone, it was never yours to begin with. But the moment you sit back and say, I already have it, it’s already mine, BOOM.

Cause honey, You’re Too Powerful to Be Begging for a Text.

You’re too divine to be waiting on breadcrumbs. You’re not a side character in HIS life, he should be fighting for a spot in YOURS.

So next time your brain starts panicking, thinking, “Why hasn’t he texted?”—remind yourself:

I don’t manifest texts.

I don’t manifest breadcrumbs.

I manifest love deeper than the ocean itself. Yeah exactly that's what you deserve you better know it.

Now go be that goddess who doesn’t settle for less than a full-blown love story. The texts, the confessions, the commitment? What are you talking about? ITS ALREADY DONE.

[dreamcatcheratdawn]

Luffy x mermaid reader please

I'm so happy to see this I've set the story as the Fishman Island arc, for an equally obvious reason. In advance, I hope you enjoy the story ( ꈍᴗꈍ). And, I don't know who made this amazing fanart one, but if you do, please let me know immediately so that I can give due credit.

"Like Ocean"

Luffy x Fem!Reader

Warning: nothing, just fluffy.

You were living another monotonous day on Fish Man Island, trying to find any crumb or spark of adventure to give you a good laugh and a bit of adrenaline. Pappag and Camie tried to cheer you up with the idea of shopping and eating Hachi's takoyakis, but you had done the same thing three days ago.

It wasn't a certainty, it was a pure fact that nothing interesting was happening on this island for you. Until you, exhausted by boredom, went to Camie's house to see if she had any news. And that was a great idea, a really great idea.

As soon as you entered her house after a couple of knocks, you saw that there were three people and a strange being, apparently new to the area. On closer inspection, there was a blond man with elegant hair, who, as soon as he saw you, came running towards you, blood gushing from his nose. Speaking of noses, there was a big-nosed man next to a boy in a straw hat. But none of them interested you. What really caught your attention was the tiny creature that you had no idea what animal it was.

-Is that even an animal? - you asked yourself, your thoughts speaking aloud as you deliberately poked at the creature's antlers.

-I'm a reindeer! - the reindeer exclaimed, backing away from you angrily, covering its antlers with its fluffy paws.

-Y/N, I want you to meet my friends. This is Sanji," Camie approached you, pointing at the blond with the heart eyes.

-Oh, miss, I've never seen beauty as fascinating as yours. When can we get married? - the blond in question asked, kneeling down in front of you and holding out his hand to you.

Camie just laughed, ignoring the whole show, while you followed his finger-pointing.

-That's Chopper over there, isn't he cute? - you went over to the so-called Chopper, pulling his cheeks and feeling his soft fur.

-So cute… - you blushed, pulling Chopper into a hug, to which he responded not very pleasantly.

-That's Ussop, he's got great adventure stories. - the word "adventure" rang an alarm bell in your head, making you turn your head so quickly that anyone watching would be afraid you'd break your neck.

-Ho ho, people keep coming after the great Captain Ussop to hear his fantastic stories. - Ussop struck a superhero pose, as if he were looking towards the horizon.

-Captain Ussop, can you tell me about your adventures? - you asked, hoping to get a positive response from the big nose.

-Oh, but of course, I'll always be available to tell you all sorts of stories about my adventures! - he thickened his voice, nodding outrageously to say the least.

You were delighted, excitement electrifying every part of your body.

-Finally, this is Luffy, the captain of the gang. - Camie concluded, pointing to the boy who was looking at you, grinning from ear to ear.

On closer inspection, you found the brunette attractive, not to mention handsome, right off the bat.

-And I'm going to be king of the pirates! - Luffy concluded, his smile widening, his eyes closed tightly, making him cuter by the second. "So they're pirates," you concluded, thinking. Incredibly, that line moved you, burned you up inside, but you didn't know why or how. It was the first time you'd felt your heart beat so fast in so long. Oh, and that wasn't adrenaline. It wasn't the fear of being caught. It wasn't any of those things. It was something different, quite different from the usual. And from that moment on you silently decreed that you would find out what that strange feeling was, your eyes focused only on Luffy, who never tired of smiling at you.

-Nice to meet you - you smiled, Chopper kicking you in the face begging you to let go while sparks flew from his eyes from staring at Luffy.

-Hihihihi - Luffy just found the situation amusing, always smiling as long as he could.

-What about walking around? There's a lot of cool stuff you need to see! - Camie decreed, already tugging at her colleagues' hands, you going along out of sheer instinct for fun.

You all visited Pappag's clothing store, and you even met other members of Luffy's gang, who were just as kind. As you looked around, Luffy made a point of always catching your eye in any way, with anything. From some stuffed animal that, according to him, looked like you, to how the food was prepared, and even though you knew all this, you lent yourself to learning it all over again, just for Luffy.

-Look, it suits you. - Luffy came up behind you, putting on a straw hat with a purple scarf adorning the hat. - Now we're matching - he said, standing behind you and putting his hands on your shoulders, smiling as you looked at yourselves in the mirror in front of you. - Isn't it?

You agreed slowly, fascinated by Luffy's pure beauty. And it didn't stop there. Everywhere you went, Luffy always kept those warm hands on your shoulders, clinging to you like a tick. Did he… Liked you? Or was it just a figment of your mind?

After a whirlwind of confusion that you unfortunately didn't take part in because you were "investigating" the sudden disappearance of your mermaid friends, you were directed by your pet seahorse to where Camie and the others were.

Your eyes popped out of their sockets at the sight of a giant mermaid, or rather, the princess of the Ryugu Kingdom, Shirahoshi.

She and Luffy were laughing together, like old friends seeing each other after so long. That unsettled you, and strangely your heart squeezed. What could it be? Were you ill? Something you ate or drank for breakfast?

-Oi, Y/N, over here! - Luffy's voice caught your attention, making your heart pound. It made you recall a vague memory of something Pappag told you.

"If your heart races when you interact with someone, it's because you like them."

Of course, you were inexperienced in this field, you'd never even considered dating. But you didn't give up easily. Oh no, you'd figure it out on your own.

Swimming over to Luffy quickly, you sat there, next to him. He was in a bubble to make sure he didn't drown, and quickly slung his arms over your shoulders, resting right there. He introduced you to the princess, to whom she was delighted to meet you, and you felt the same.

Looking around, you saw that you were in the sea forest, and it soon became clear that both Luffy's boat was there, and also the princess wanted to see her dead mother, to make up for the time she hadn't been able to see her.

Meanwhile, Luffy was already snoring on her lap. It was adorable to see him so vulnerable around you. Until his pet seahorse started to catch his eye, heading towards the pile of coral.

-What is it, Koryu? - you asked him, watching him point frantically at the pile of coral.

Koryu gave up and started pulling you towards it, waking Luffy up in the process. Koryu only let go of your arm when you could see a dolphin calf with its tail all bruised to the point where it could no longer swim. Perhaps the dolphin had run into predators and narrowly escaped.

You carefully picked up the dolphin and put it on your lap, and thought of a way to take care of it. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't even see Luffy coming.

-Huh, a dolphin? - he asked, right next to your ear. You turned abruptly, so that your faces were right next to each other. Your lips were millimeters away from meeting, and your breaths danced together. Let's pretend there isn't a bubble separating you. You turned your attention to the dolphin, your heart almost bursting out of your mouth and your face turning into a blushing mess.

-A-ah, yes it's a…dolphin. He's hurt, so he needs to be looked after.

There was a moment of silent tension between you, and you wouldn't dare look at Luffy's face now, you felt like you could die from an attack if you did.

-If you keep avoiding looking at me like that, you'll never know if you really like me. - Luffy said, catching your eye. You widened your eyes, and turned to him, shocked.

-How did you know? - you asked, your stomach churning with that familiar feeling.

-Well, it's easy to tell when you keep saying your thoughts out loud. - he shrugged, smiling.

You closed your mouth, cursing internally. That was your weakest point, speaking your thoughts out loud without even realizing it. You must have done it at some point when the two of you were together and he must have heard it. Lucky you.

-Well, I like you. - Luffy said without blinking, giving you a quick kiss right after he declared himself.

It caught you off guard, and he just smiled, leaving the pile of coral and going back to where the others were. After your brain short-circuited for a few seconds, you smiled, bringing your fingers to your lips, where seconds ago they were being kissed by the first boy you ever liked.

Feeling his lips was the thing that gave you the most adrenaline in your entire life. And yes, it was addictive. And yes, you wanted more.

The truth is, Luffy, from the first moment he met you, he liked you. No, that's incorrect. He fell in love with you from the very first moment. Of course, he didn't know the first thing about love, God, hours ago he just wanted to be king of the pirates. Now he has another goal, and that goal is to love you until the day he die.

(At some point I was even going to describe the color of the tail, but I left it to your imagination)

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

Hello!! I absolutely love your barnacles/kwazii qpr propaganda, you are 10000000% right!! They make me so happy and you draw them so cutely! If you have any more doodles or headcanons for them I would be so happy! I am making meals out of the crumbs in canon lol An offering for you:

surrounded by the ocean yet still warm <3

Barnacles needs the feeling of kwazii breathing and alive at night and kwazii needs the warmth and slower heartbeat to feel safe

ANYWAYS ENJOY SOME CUTE LIL RAMBLES ABOUT THEM BEING SOFT AND PRECIOUSSS

kwazii really sucks at waking up in the morning, the captain totally picked him up into air jail only to be met with a very sleepy and tiny and pouty kwazii in his hands 😭😭😭

I just know barnacles boops his nose at like EVERY opportunity. Goshhh they nose boop. They could rub heads n stuff its in both their body languages. Purring and chuffing <3

3. Yk how giant dogs will get right into peoples space and not realize how HUGE they are and just snuggle into someoen???

Barnacles

4. Old kwazii and barnacles would slowdance and u couldn't pry that out of my cold dead hands

5. Pov ur like 45 year old kwazii not getting chosen for a really strenuous mission

hes so scraggly and wet anyways-

6. COULD U IMAGINE BARNACLES JUST LAYING ON T O P OF KWAZII AND KWAZII IS JUST TINY AND TRAPPED UNDER LIKE YEOW LET ME OUT and then caps like noooo u do this to me all the time its fine and he's like NO BUT YER HUGE IT BE DIFFERENT and the capns like ok fine u caught me im actually imprisoning u <3 and kwaziis like WHAT PIRATE CRIME DID I COMMIT and the caps like 🥰the treasonous act of not giving me enough cuddles🥰 and kwazii just has to accept that 😭

7. Also the capn is like high on pain killers or somwthing and he's SO SAD and then hes so happy cuz he can HOLD KITTI and push kwaziis lil paw beans in and out while crying about how smol he is (peso endured similar treatment 💀🙏) and kwazii just gets trapped for some hours, this grown *ss man is just getting his kitty face squished over and over 😭😭😭

8. idk if I ever mentioned this but kwazii genuinely does find the capn very beautiful <3 like he really does think the caps got such pretty eyes and a charming face and really lovely hair and do u see how large the capns paws are???? And how pretty his black claws are???? He's so cool and amazing and pretty and also pretty and- and how could u blame him????its not even a physical attraction thing he just did the thing where u love a person so much u see their entire existance in a new way

9. They take turns sleeping in eachothers rooms

Kwazii having a preparation montage where he's putting on layers of thermals and big fuzzy socks to go sleep in his joyfriends frozen *ss room 😭😭😭

Meanwhile barnacles has got to deal with kwaziis tiny ahh bed and the fact kwazii literally LAYS ON TOP OF HIM and moves and everything in his sleep 😭😭😭😭 but he also purrs soo….

10. One of the deepest kinds of loved a person can ever experience is safety during vulnerability and change.

I JUST KNOW they'd cry a few tears a few tears just from the softness. Something so fcking small that breaks every fcking battered defense they have relied on for years down. And then the other is there to wipe the tear away with their thumb.

And then they cry harder.

Bonus: kwazii calls the capn the "Lord and Savior of thr Manatees" whenever he's being a hypocrite about kwazii being reckless 😭. And barnacles has INTENSE cuteness aggression feelings to kwazii and he MUST squish him :> thats all for now

I totally don't have even more thoughts i cant share rn because it'd spoil my comic whaaatttt thats so crazy im such a normal person about them they don't consume my very soul idk what ur TALKING about

BARNZII QPR PROPOGANDA BARNZII QPR PROPOGANDA YYEYAYAYYAYAAHHHHH

my MOON AND LITTLR STAR

MY BIG AND SMOL

MY CAPN AND FIRST MATE

Auuauahagahhrjrrkkrkr thank u for the ask it means the world to me 🥺👍 my (qpr)partner irl is very happy the qpr propaganda is spreading >:3

[tired-truffle]

My Soul to Keep

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.6k

Tag List: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @ihascat5 @pebble-bb @goooofy-goooober1121 @furblurwurblur @potatointhedirt @webofwhimsy @mad-simp420 @xo-mingx @patchs-curiosity-corner (Let me know if you'd like to be added)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

You’d never imagined being a ghost tethered to a place to be a very fun experience. Being unable to move outside of your haunting space or see new scenery would drive anyone at least a little crazy after a few years. Being tethered to a person or an object, on the other hand, would give you a bit more wiggle room and the ability to explore. Except it would only be at the whim of the person carrying your object, or the person themselves. While you hadn’t figured out if you were actually a ghost or not, less than a minute after Viktor had left his apartment, it became viscerally clear that you were attached to something or someone on the move. Like an invisible wall of force, you were shoved from your spot, hovering uncertainly above the leather couch, and dragged through the floor. 

Your shrieks of terror went unheard as you passed by room after room, making your descent from the upper floors. A man frantically buttoning his vest, a piece of toast crammed into his mouth, groaning his irritation as crumbs scattered over his chest. A woman reading a newspaper, a cup of tea in her hand. A young couple, one wrapped nothing but a thin sheet as they kissed goodbye at the door. 

Wonderful, not only were you some sort of ghost-like creature, but you were now a Peeping Tom too. 

After what must have been upwards of fifteen rooms, you finally reached the ground floor, floating down until you hovered over smooth tile flooring, polished marble tiles laid out in an intricate herringbone pattern that stretched from wall to wall. Towering columns of veined stone rose to meet a vaulted ceiling, where ornate chandeliers hung like crystalline raindrops frozen in time. Their warm light glinted off the gold-leafed accents adorning the walls and archways, rendering an atmosphere of quiet luxury.

A polished mahogany reception desk stood to your left, its surface so reflective you assumed it must be polished on the hour every hour. Behind it, a wall of brass mailboxes glinted, their tiny doors neatly labelled with apartment numbers.

As you floated there, drinking in the details of your lavish surroundings, a soft 'ding' broke you from your curious reverie. The elevator doors slid open, and Viktor stepped out.

It took him a moment to spot you, likely not having expected to see his hallucination lying on the floor of his building’s entry, but unfortunately for you, there was no coverage to hide your embarrassment. Like a flame flickering into existence, his eyes widened as they landed on you, stuttering in his steps. With a resigned sigh, you waved at him and floated back to a standing position. 

Out of all the side effects of your predicament, the floating was probably your favourite. It was the little things that kept you going. 

Recovering smoothly, lucky that the few others in the lobby weren’t paying attention to the newcomer, Viktor resumed his long-legged strides, his shoes clicking against the marble floors. When he reached you, you floated along at his side, hands clasped behind your back with the dignity of someone who did not just fall through the ceiling. 

“It seems like I can’t leave your general vicinity. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” You elbowed him, even knowing it would go right through him. It was the thought that counted. “I don’t think anyone else can see me though, or a lot more of them would have freaked the fuck out when I appeared in their rooms.”

The subtlest of smirks canted at the corners of his lips. He pushed open the glass door, the creaking of the hinges masking his voice so only you could hear his reply.

“I’ve had worse tag-alongs.” 

That shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did, but you beamed at him anyway, pleased like a student who’d been praised by an overly harsh teacher. 

You hovered in silence beside Viktor, acutely aware of the peculiar situation you found yourself in. The bustling streets of Piltover unfolded before you, gleaming with wealth and innovation that left you slack-jawed with wonder. It was one thing to see it on screen, and another to experience it first-hand.

Sleek, chrome-plated carriages whizzed by, and the people of Piltover moved with purpose, their attire a dizzying array of fine silks, tailored suits, and accessories that sparkled with precious stones. You realized, with a start, that even the most modest outfit you saw probably cost more than you'd ever seen in your life.

Street vendors hawked their wares on the cobblestone roads - miniature clockwork toys, glowing vials of mysterious substances, and gadgets whose purposes you couldn't even begin to fathom. You longed to stop and examine each fascinating item, but the invisible tether binding you to Viktor urged you onward.

After a few blocks of sensory overload, you approached a structure that made even the grandest buildings you'd passed seem modest in comparison. The Academy loomed before you, a colossal edifice of azure stone that seemed to touch the very heavens. Its walls were smooth and polished, reflecting the sky like a massive sapphire.

As you ascended the steps alongside Viktor, you noticed how the stone beneath your feet - or where your feet would be if you weren't floating - clicked and moved to match the height and speed of his strides. Would they get smaller for someone like Heimerdinger?

You turned to Viktor, bursting with questions and observations, but held your tongue, remembering that he couldn't respond without looking like a madman talking to thin air. Instead, you contented yourself with a small smile, grateful for this unexpected adventure and the chance to witness the wonders of Piltover firsthand.

It wasn’t until you were through the foyer and into the elevator - alone with Viktor - that you spoke up. 

“So,” you elongated the vowel as you thought of what to say. “What do you do with this professor?” 

Viktor was young and mostly healthy, no illness eating away at his lungs, and if he was going to meet Heimerdinger first thing in the morning, you imagined it was because he was still working for him. However, there was a chance that he was meeting with the professor about Hextech. 

“I’m his assistant,” Viktor said plainly, confirming your suspicions. 

You frowned, consideringly. “Prestigious.”

He shrugged. “It has its perks.”

The elevator dinged, its doors opening to the tenth floor. Viktor stepped out, cane softly thudding against the carpet and accompanying his muffled footsteps. It was just the two of you, as far as you could tell. 

“You’re welcome to accompany me, though it appears you have little choice in the matter, but I must warn you I will not be able to speak with you,” he said under his breath. “Heimerdinger may appear…aloof at times, but he is sharp as a whip. If he believes that I’ve cracked under the pressure, he will have me immediately escorted to the nearest in-patient facility. That or he’ll lecture me over tea, neither of which I am particularly fond of.” 

You nodded along as he spoke, spinning so you were floating on your back, watching the sparkly tiled ceiling flow by. “I figured as much. Don’t worry about me; I’ll just chill in the corner. You won’t even know I’m there.”

And you’d been so close to being right. 

You’d done as promised, perusing the corners of Heimerdinger’s office while they reviewed their daily tasks, and trailing as far behind them as you could when they set out. The limit seemed to be about twenty feet in all directions before the barrier kicked in and shoved you along. Entirely aggravating - you’d never liked being told what to do, not even by invisible walls. 

Every so often, you'd push against the barrier, testing its limits. It was like pressing against an elastic wall - you could stretch it a bit, but eventually, it would snap back, dragging you along.

As you drifted through the corridors, you noticed something peculiar. Whenever you passed through a person, they would shiver involuntarily, as if a sudden chill had swept over them. You watched as a young student, her arms laden with books, trembled as you glided through her. Her eyes darted around, confused before she shrugged it off and continued on her way.

Intrigued by this discovery, you decided to conduct a little experiment - if you were going to surround yourself with scientists, you might as well try to blend in. You positioned yourself in the middle of a busy intersection where multiple hallways converged. As people walked through you, one after another, you observed their reactions. Some merely twitched, while others visibly shuddered, their teeth chattering for a brief moment.

Interesting, but you weren’t sure what to do with this newfound knowledge.

They didn’t head back to Heimerdinger’s office until late into the evening - it was clear where Viktor got his unhealthy work habits from, if he hadn’t had them already. By that point, you were bored out of your skull, and you couldn’t even get the reprieve of banging your head against the wall. 

All you could do was talk and float around, and since the only person you could talk to was Viktor, that left you with floating as your only option - and there was only so much flopping around into different positions that you could do before you lost your mind. 

Your wish for entertainment came in the form of an overly distracted Heimerdinger. You hadn’t been watching, Viktor hadn’t been watching - busy sorting through the missives that had piled up on the professor’s desk while they’d been out - and Heimerdinger himself hadn’t been watching where he was going, too enraptured in his thoughts. 

Bang! The loud slap of a stack of books toppling to the floor jolted you out of your calm - albeit painfully boring - state. 

Your perspective shifted dramatically, as if the world had grown larger around you. The colours of the room muted, losing their vibrancy, yet somehow, you could see more of your surroundings at once. Your visual field expanded, stretching to the corners of the room that were previously out of sight.

Your closest surroundings blurred, becoming indistinct shapes in your new vision. Yet, you found yourself drawn to the smallest movements - a piece of paper fluttering in the breeze from an open window, specks of dust filtering through the air.

Everything was different, more immediate, filled with scents and sounds you hadn't noticed before. The musty smell of old books mingled with the sharp tang of ink and the faint aroma of Heimerdinger's pipe tobacco.

Your ears twitched, picking up sounds you hadn’t noticed before. Viktor's breathing seemed louder now, the soft rustle of his clothing, the subtle creak of floorboards beneath his feet.

Instinctively, you hissed through clenched teeth as confusion prickled along your spine, your fur standing on end as your back arched. The sound that escaped your throat was alien and feral, nothing like your usual voice. As soon as it happened, you froze, bewildered.

Hold on.

Be so fucking for real right now.

This could not be happening.

Viktor’s wide eyes and slackened jaw said otherwise, his missive falling to the floor like a feather on a gentle breeze. 

You became acutely aware of your new feline form. Your whiskers twitched, sensitive to the slightest air currents in the room. Your tail, a foreign appendage you'd never possessed before, swished behind you with a mind of its own. You flexed your paws, feeling the soft pads beneath and the sharp claws that extended and retracted at will. The fur that covered your little body was a sleek black, looking soft to the touch as though you’d spent hours grooming it.

“Gadzooks!” Heimerdinger exclaimed, his head popping up from where he’d dived behind his desk to avoid being crushed. “That was a close one! Are you alright, my boy?”

Viktor hadn’t even been close to the books, but it was sweet of the professor to ask - not that you could register it in your shock. 

Shaking himself out of his stunned stupor, Viktor turned to face his employer. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“I’m alright, but it did give me quite the scare.” Heimerdinger chuckled to himself, but you were too busy freaking out to fully appreciate how the yordle’s ears wiggled when he laughed. 

Why the fuck were you a cat? And how were you supposed to turn back?

Oh God, were you stuck like this forever now? No, you refused. You’d had enough weird shit happen; you weren’t going to let this control you too.

Closing your eyes, you concentrated on slowing your heart rate. Like water falling off a duck's back, your feline form melted away. A tingling sensation spread from your core to your extremities, and you sensed your body stretching and reshaping. When you dared to open your eyes again, you found yourself back in your ghostly human form, hovering a few inches above the ground.

Frantically, you patted yourself down, checking for any lingering cat-like features. No tail. No fur. No whiskers. You ran your hands over your head, sighing in relief when you felt your hair instead of pointed ears. The world had returned to its normal proportions and colours, the hyper-awareness of scents and sounds fading back to normal.

Still shaken, you drifted over to Viktor, who was helping Heimerdinger gather the fallen books. You hovered close to his ear, hissing in a low, urgent whisper - a human hiss, not a cat hiss - "What the fuck was that?"

Viktor's eyes darted to you for a split second before returning to his task. His lips barely moved as he hissed back, "How am I supposed to know?"

You ran your hands through your hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. "I turned into a fucking cat!" you whispered incredulously, your voice rising slightly in pitch.

Viktor's jaw clenched, and he shot you a warning glance. His eyes flicked meaningfully towards Heimerdinger, who was dusting off a particularly old tome.

You nodded, forcing yourself to take deep, calming breaths – not that you actually needed to breathe, but the familiar action helped steady your nerves. As Viktor and Heimerdinger finished tidying up, you retreated to a corner of the office, trying to process what had just happened and wondering what other surprises your strange new existence might have in store for you.

Sitting in awkward silence wasn’t your favourite activity, but lately you’d been doing a lot of things you typically avoided. 

“Do you still think I’m a hallucination?” You broke the silence, your elbows resting on your knees as you floated above the couch, legs crossed. 

Viktor swayed his head and twisted towards you, his piecemeal dinner of toast and jam abandoned on the coffee table. “I have not concretely ruled it out, but since no one else can see or hear you, that may be difficult. For now, I am leaning towards no. It is much too fantastical for my mind to come up with. Besides, I do not feel as though I have lost my senses. There would be other signs.”

Logical, as you’d expected. 

“I wish I wasn’t real,” you sighed, tilting your head back to look at the popcorn-textured ceiling. “This is all so crazy. I don’t know where to begin trying to find answers.” 

“Do you remember what happened before you arrived here?” 

You shook your head. “Not a thing.” 

Viktor hummed his understanding. “You said that this world should not exist, what did you mean by that?”

Right, you had blurted that out in a panicked rush, hadn’t you? 

“If you don’t think you’ve lost your mind, then you definitely will think that I have when I try to explain it to you.”

He smiled, soft and patient, and in response, your stomach conjured up a flurry of butterflies to tickle your insides. “I promise I will not pass undue judgment. If I was going to, I would have already, given that you’re transparent and can turn into a cat.”

“Fair point.” He had you there, and what else did you have to lose? “Though don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He sat back, motioning for you to begin. 

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders. “Do you have televisions here? Like screens that play pre-recorded videos?” 

“Some do, though it is not particularly common.”

“Thank God,” you breathed, “I really didn’t want to try to explain what that was. They’re pretty common in my world, at least where I come from, most households have them. We’ve got millions of shows and movies to watch. There was this one show called Arcane that was about, uh, here. Like, Piltover and Zaun.” 

He nodded sagely, and you couldn’t find any traces of disbelief in his eyes. He was just…accepting it? Or he was a very good actor. You were leaning toward the latter. 

“You were one of the main characters,” you continued, noting that this did get a reaction from him: a slight raise of his eyebrows. “And judging by a few observations, this is before the start of the show, though it can’t be more than a few years at most. If I had to guess based on my luck lately, we’re pretty close to it, weeks if not days.”

Viktor's forehead creased as he processed your words. "A show…about Piltover and Zaun. I suppose the politics could be intriguing. And I'm a character in it?"

“You are, but I don’t expect you to take me at my word. I can prove to you that I know things that I shouldn’t, and I can predict a few upcoming events, though we must prevent one sequence of events or everything goes to shit, so I may need a little bit of trust from you.”

At this, he looked interested, and you took this as a win. “Intriguing. You may proceed.”

You paused, what could you even tell him? What would be believable? “You…know a lot of things.”

“True.”

“And if you’re still thinking I may be a hallucination then I can’t tell you your history ‘cause you already know it.” You tapped your chin, lips twisted as you thought hard. “I’m trying to prevent the immediate future, so that wouldn’t work either, but…oh! Are you able to go to a doctor anytime soon?”

Viktor blinked, startled back. “A doctor?” 

“Yeah, like a medical one, not Dr. Reveck.” 

“Who is Dr. Reveck?” 

It was your turn to express your confusion. “You know, the doctor in that cave you met as a kid? When your boat went down the stream into his lab?”

Viktor eyed you, suspicion swimming in the depths of his gaze. “He never told me his name.” 

“Oh, uh,” you grinned sheepishly, “I guess you know it now. He’s the inventor of Shimmer. He’s trying to cure his daughter of death. He should probably be stopped, but that’s a later problem.”

“Right.” He was dubious, but he waved for you to continue. 

“Okay, here it goes, and it’s probably gonna suck to hear, so I’m warning you now,” you said, and upon Viktor’s nod, you started. “They never told us what illness you had, or I guess you have, just that you got it from Zaun’s shitty air. Your lungs will start to fail you, you’ll need a crutch, you’ll lose weight, and you’ll start coughing up blood sometime in the next seven years. Eventually, it would kill you. But, many people believed the illness was similar to one that we have in my world: tuberculosis or consumption, depending on the time period.” 

Viktor's face paled as you spoke, his lips pressed into a thin line. He sat in silence for a long moment.

"That's... quite specific,” he said when he was able to form a response. “And rather grim."

“I know. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I’m sure that’s a lot to take in, but if it is something like tuberculosis, then the good news is it’s totally treatable before it gets to the active stage. Do you have any of those symptoms now?”

“I don’t,” he said, a wariness to his tone. 

“That’s great!” You clapped your hands, relief flooding through you. What were you supposed to do if the one person who could see you died? “That means you don’t have the active stage yet, or any illness at all, but if it’s caused by Zaun’s air and you haven’t lived there for some time, then it wouldn’t make sense that you pick it up later. Can the doctors here test your blood for an illness like this?” 

“Yes.” His fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the arm of his chair, a nervous habit you hadn't noticed before. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get checked, though the idea of being ill and unaware until it is too late is unsettling."

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft ticking of a clock on the wall and the distant hum of the city outside. You wished you could offer more comfort, but what could you say to someone who'd just been told they might have a potentially fatal illness?

"I'll schedule an appointment as soon as I can," Viktor said, quiet but resolute.

You nodded, relieved that he was taking your warning seriously. "That's good. Really good. Thank you for listening to me."

Viktor's lips quirked into a small smile. "It's not every day a ghostly entity from another world appears to warn you about your health. It would be foolish to ignore such a specific prophecy."

You chuckled, appreciating his attempt at levity. "That’s the spirit."

Over and over in your mind you prayed to whatever gods may be listening that they could catch his illness in time. And if they couldn’t…you weren’t sure you had it in you to stop him from becoming the Machine Herald.

A few days later, he had his appointment set, and until then, you were stuck following him around. It wasn’t all bad, you’d spent most of your time idly floating, watching the scenery as you trailed after Viktor, and the evenings were spent in peaceful companionship. Surprisingly, he was more chatty than you’d expected. Late at night as he pursued his work, he’d talk to you about it, or rather talked at you as you had little to add. But still, you appreciated the entertainment. 

You had avoided turning back into a cat again, if such a thing could be avoided. One thing at a time; address Viktor’s illness, get him to believe that you were real, and then you could figure your shit out. 

On the day of the appointment, you floated beside him as he made his way to the physician’s office. It was in a central part of town, a quick trolley ride away. As you entered the sleek building, a thought occurred to you that you’d nearly forgotten. 

“Did someone teach you to use your cane on the same side as your injured leg?” 

Viktor halted in his steps, said cane clacking against the floor. It was just him in the entryway, and he looked at you with bewilderment. “I beg your pardon?”

You cringed, who were you to tell him how to use his mobility aid when you couldn’t even use your legs? There was no such thing as an inaccessible environment when you could float everywhere. “It’s just that you’re supposed to use a cane on the opposite side as the disabled leg, right? But I thought maybe there was a reason you weren’t doing that.”

He glanced down at the cane and then back up at you. “That’s what my parents taught me.” 

Ah, it was as you feared. No one had taught him to use it properly, and they’d been letting him go his whole life using it in a way that would damage his body over time. It made sense that Zaun didn’t receive proper health education on top of everything else. “Maybe you can talk to the doctor about it while you’re here.”

He pursed his lips, gaze distant as though evaluating memories you were not party to. “Perhaps.” 

After signing in and waiting his turn, Viktor was called back. 

“I’ll wait outside the door if that’s okay with you,” you offered, floating down the long hallway as the nurse brought him to a clinic room. Viktor nodded his understanding. 

You hovered in the hall, your ethereal form passing through the occasional nurse or patient who hurried by, watching as they shivered or shuddered.

As you waited, you observed the diverse array of people moving through the clinic. A young woman with braided hair adorned with gold jewelry passed by, her eyes fixed on a small device in her hand. An elderly gentleman hobbled along, supported by a woman of a similar age - his wife, maybe. A pair of identical twins, no older than ten, chattered excitedly about the latest comic their parents had bought them.

The nurse who had escorted Viktor into the examination room emerged, her shoes squeaking softly against the polished floor. She moved with purpose, her crisp white uniform much too clean for someone who no doubt frequently got her hands dirty. How many changes of uniforms for its staff did this place have to keep up appearances?

Minutes ticked by, and you found yourself studying the patterns in the wallpaper, tracing the delicate floral designs with your eyes.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only about thirty minutes, the door to Viktor's room opened again. This time, a distinguished-looking man in a white coat stepped out, followed closely by Viktor. The doctor's salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, and his glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a reassuring expression that immediately put you at ease.

Viktor's face was a mask of calm, but you could see the subtle tension in his shoulders. He extended his hand to the doctor, who grasped it firmly.

"Thank you, Doctor," Viktor said. "Your insights have been most valuable."

The doctor shook Viktor’s hand, his smile widening. "It's my pleasure. Remember what we discussed, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions."

With a final nod, Viktor turned and began making his way down the hallway towards the exit. You floated after him, your ghostly form easily keeping pace with his measured strides. As you followed, something caught your eye, and you did a double-take.

Viktor was using his cane differently.

Where before he had held it on the same side as his disabled leg, now it was on the opposite side. He had listened to your suggestion and brought it up with the doctor. This small change could make a significant difference in his daily life, potentially alleviating pain and improving his mobility.

As you exited the clinic, the bustling streets of Piltover greeted you. The afternoon sun beat down on the cobblestone paths, and you floated alongside Viktor, studying his face for any sign of what the doctor might have told him. His expression remained impassive, but when there was a break in the crowd, he leaned closer to you.

“I will receive a call with the results of the testing in a few days,” he whispered. “But you were correct about the cane. Thank you.” 

You shrugged, entirely unsure what to say. “I hope it helps.” 

An uptick at the corner of his mouth was the only sign of his smile. “Only time will tell.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I hope this makes it to you in time, and thank you so so much for all the support you gave for the first chapter <3

If at any point when reading this chapter you thought to yourself: "I just want you to stop sayin' odd shit." I do not blame you. It's not going to get any less weird, but I hope you enjoy it!

[eddiewithcat]

hello friends !!

i recently was able to get my hands on the Chaos Theory Novelization of s2 book and wanted to share some of the benji scenes because they made me Lose my Mind a little

(what’s new man)

kenji being upset ben isn’t giving him the attention he’s been trying to garner … (him pointing out how far from the others they are // him bringing bumpy’s egg baby into this)

BENJI BOAT SCENE 😭🫶🏻 HONESTLY GUYS.. if i had zero context of this show … i would be so convinced ben was about to give an aborted love confession …

“were you gonna tell me something?”

“oh uh- wasn’t important. you got a lot on your mind” OK????

BENJI AND THE BROOKLYNN REVEAL / BEGINNING OF THE FIGHT …. man. oh man. the fact we get to know what was really goin’ on in kenji’s mind when he witnessed it. GODDD…

*THE* BENJI FIGHT … 😕 sad they took out the bit where kenji cried (that also a storyboarder told us about before) but glad they at least decided to keep it in the book! oh my heart man.

and then finally … this one. i think this shows just how hurt kenji truly is by the entire situation- and completely shows how everyone else comes from more of a place of concern whereas kenji is coming at it with anger.

this is the part that really showcased to me just how important building ben and kenji’s bond back up is going to be- and that this won’t just be tossed under the rug and forgotten (unlike past arguments… but hey what do i nose)

(also tiny dinostar crumbs. darius not giving a fuck about the lying and only focusing on the fact the love of his life is alive ?!?! I’m going to cry)

anyway hope you guys enjoy :> there were a few tinier moments spread out here and there but i felt these were the most important!! if you are curious i will post!

[yandere-romanticaa]

Here are some crumbs about yandere mortician! From now on, his name is Viktor. (I'll make a detailed post about him, his personality, looks later, I promise.)

masterlist.

Viktor can often be seen with headphones in his ears, his expression neutral and eyes glazed over with a sheen of nothingness. When he's spotted in public people want to give him the benefit of doubt and say he's just lost in his own world, consumed by the sound of music. Perhaps he's just so in tune with the lyrics, maybe they speak to him on a level which people often seek out when listening to music. His playlist is filled with all sorts of songs - be it long ballads, cheesy love songs, generic pop, heavy metal, screamo, classical music, frankly some songs you wouldn't even expect someone like him wouldn't even listen at all(a la WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion).

Even while working, Viktor likes to have something playing in the background. His co-workers often joke about his music taste but he just shrugs them off without saying anything. It's all just a rollercoaster, a complete mess but he likes it that way. It's fun to be on his toes.

Truthfully, Viktor never liked music. He never bothered paying attention to the lyrics nor the meaning or even the tune of the song.

He simply can't stand the silence.

Viktor is a walking contradiction - he dislikes most people and yet wishes to be a part of them. He wants to be someone. But he doesn't know how to do that. His way of coping became listening to music. He even learned to play some instruments growing up, thinking that maybe someone would take a liking to him.

Even so, no one bothered with him. He was still a nobody.

Some did admire him, from a safe distance at least. His aura was black as charcoal and posture stiff as a board. Even if one dared to look at him for too long it felt like Viktor would pluck their eyes out if he caught them looking.

Perhaps he would. He wasn't sure either.

The sounds had no meaning to him. It was all used to cover up the silence, pure white noise. Nothing more, nothing less.

All of that came to a screeching halt once he met you, his tiny piece of sunshine.

You'd go through his playlist, sometimes scoffing, sometimes liking the things you saw. His eccentric side never failed to amuse you. Amongst that jungle you'd ask him who his favorite artists were, if he had anyone specific he liked.

Viktor said the names of some random artists he thought you fancied yourself. He wanted you to like him.

His answer ultimately did not matter in the end as you would still recommend some of your own personal favorite songs to him. Viktor promised he'd give them a listen as soon as he could.

Later that evening, he was hard at work. As he was putting on his coat he turned towards his phone and reached towards it, slightly eager to see what you had in store for him. The song played quietly in the background as gently rain tapped against the window, giving the morgue a more tranquil feel than it ought to have. The person on his table tonight was an old man who presumably died of a heart attack earlier this morning.

Poor soul. That was all he could bother to say.

The evening went on as it usually did but Viktor could not stop thinking about you. His sweet little sunshine, he was so touched by the fact that you bothered to go so far for him. He could feel his heart racing as unfamiliar butterflies started to flutter in his chest.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

If he wasn't careful he would be the next one to die of a heart attack.

The music got a bit louder as it reached the chorus, its tune almost perfectly in sync with his heart. He hadn't even realized that he started to sway his hips gently. Left, right, left right.

It felt like the correct thing to do.

Viktor also picked up the sound of a male voice humming which was odd, considering the fact that the singer of the song was a woman. He nearly dropped his scalpel as he realized that the one who was humming was him, not someone else, him.

For the first time in his life, Viktor bothered to pay attention to the song. The singer detailed her undying feelings for her lover, promising herself to them and them only.

Viktor thought about you the entire time. He never fancied himself as a dancer but if he could, he would want nothing more than to dance with you.

Would you want to dance with him?

For the first time in his life, Viktor found joy in the music he listened to. And it was all thanks to his sunshine.

🔪 TAGS: @shamelessdarkprince

[daisyvisions]

✦ Day 21 - Food Play

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: neighbor!Eric x afab!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.7K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), food play (using syrup), fingering, lots of nipple play here, mutual pining, strength kink (if you squint), pet name (sweetheart), kinda fluff but like smutty fluff lol, sexual innuendo mentioned

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: My brain was in rest mode it was so hard to think of how this would go until the idea finally struck when I was supposed to go to sleep 🙃 Hope you enjoy this one! Actually proofread.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

It had almost been a week since Eric had moved into the apartment across from yours.

After you came back from your morning walk to the nearest coffee shop, you bumped into your landlord, stopping for a moment to have a small chat with them.

"Oh! By the way, there's a new guy moving in across from you."

"Is he a cranky middle-aged man again?" You joke.

"No, not at all. I think he's around your age actually! You might actually get along with this one." She winks, but you don't understand what she was implying.

"Cool, I'll be sure to give him the usual first-day greeting!"

As soon as you reached your floor, you spotted a number of moving boxes outside. You quickly reminisced about the first time you moved into your apartment. How stressful it was bringing in all the boxes and unpacking each one. So you decided to bake something for your new neighbor as a form of sustenance and get your chance to say hello.

You rang the doorbell, balancing on the heels of your feet as you held a box of lemon bars in one hand.

While waiting for him to respond, you wondered what he might be like. Did he keep to himself? Was he a nosy neighbor? Was he the type to blast music and keep you up at night? Did he bring any people ho-

The door suddenly swings open, and you're greeted with an image you weren't expecting at all. Beads of sweat dripping from his forehead, hair slightly damp, a towel hanging from his shoulder, and... Oh no. He's shirtless.

"Uh, can I help you?" He looks at you with curiosity. You almost don't hear him the first time as your eyes quickly scan his toned chest.

"Oh, sorry to interrupt!" You try to play it cool. "I live right across from you, wanted to drop by to say hello." You smile at him. He looks up and down at you for a moment, licking his lips before smiling back at you. She's cute.

"I'm Eric." He extends his hand to you. You try to compose yourself, feeling the rough and firm grip of his handshake. You say your name in return.

"I, baked you something. Thought you needed some energy from all the moving in."

"Oh, right, um, thank you." He shyly replies, trying not to make a fool out of himself.

There's an awkward pause between you, the music coming from the other side of his door faintly playing in the background.

"Well... if you need anything, you know where to find me. Nice meeting you again, Eric!"

"Oh, I definitely will. See you around, neighbor." He winks at you before taking the box of baked goods from your hand.

Before you start blushing in front of him, you turn around and walk straight into your apartment. You lean your back against the door as soon as you close it. Your heart racing just from that tiny interaction with your new hot neighbor. You suddenly shake off the incoming butterflies in your stomach.

Before you even set foot in the living room, you hear a knock at your door. When you walk back to open it, you catch Eric mid-way through knocking on your door again.

"Sorry, I know you just got in, but I just have to say your lemon bars were really good." He exaggerates, spotting a few crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm glad you liked them! I could make more for you if you want?" You ask.

"Actually... I was thinking maybe you could teach me how. Kinda suck at cooking, to be honest. Between you and me..." Eric motions his finger for you to come closer.

"Might've been the reason why I got kicked out of my old apartment." He chuckles.

"Well, lucky for you, I love to cook. So I'll make sure you won't burn our floor to the ground." You joke back.

"Perfect, are you free this weekend?" He asks.

"Yeah, I've got nothing else to do." You smile.

"Great, I'll see you then."

"And where do I pour this again?"

"Just in the mixer, Eric." You chuckle at the man next to you.

"You got it!" He points at you with finger guns as he grabs the vanilla extract. You both smile at each other, enjoying each other's company while music plays in the background.

At first, you felt very nervous about having Eric over. Worried that you might become too obvious with your attraction towards him and scare him off. But to your surprise, spending time and getting to know him was very calming.

"Okay, now after pouring, just turn on the mixer for a few seconds." He nods his head at your instruction. After turning off the mixer, Eric slightly dips his clean finger into the batter to taste the mixture.

"Oh my god, this is so good!" He groans.

"Eric... It hasn't even been baked yet."

"No, try it! I swear." He dips another clean finger into the batter and holds his finger out in front of you.

"No, no, it's okay. I can get it myself." You nervously say, trying not to blush at what he wants you to do.

"C'mon now, before it spills over." His batter-dipped finger still hanging in front of you.

"O-okay..." You grab his hand in yours and raise it a little higher, leaning forward to take his finger in your mouth.

Eric's breath hitches as you slowly swirl your tongue around his digit, your eyes never leaving his.

"T-taste good?" He stutters.

"Mhm." You hum in response, hollowing your cheeks to suck the batter completely clean off his finger. Releasing it with a pop.

"H-holy shit..." He mumbles, caught in a daze watching you suck his finger clean.

To be completely honest, he did it as a joke. He was not expecting you to actually lick the batter from his finger at all. The whole act makes his cock twitch in his pants.

You don't even know where your boldness came from. But you liked the confidence it brought you, seeing Eric get all flustered from what you just did. Mentally patting yourself on the back for adding that popping sound at the end.

You turn around before making things more awkward than they are, grabbing the baking pan on the counter to prepare pouring the batter.

"Okay, now that the batter is good, we can finally start to bake-" You suddenly feel Eric's hands grab your waist, spinning you around to face him as he instantly smashes his lips against yours.

Both your lips move oddly at first until they find the perfect groove. Your arms slowly wrap themselves around his neck as he leans his hands on the edge of the counter, caging your body under his.

You kiss one another passionately until you pull away for a moment to catch your breath.

"I knew from the moment you rang my doorbell I was a goner." He smiles at you. “Thought about you every night since we met.”

Before you can even respond back, he grabs your waist and hoists you up, making you sit at the edge of the counter before diving back in to kiss you some more.

Your hands find their way through his hair, tugging them as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He groans, squeezing your waist before pulling down the straps of your sundress to kiss your exposed chest.

"So pretty..." he mumbles against your skin, littering as many kisses as he can while massaging your breasts with his strong hands.

As you close your eyes and play with his hair, Eric spots a bottle of syrup in the corner of his eye. He grabs the bottle with his free hand and releases your nipple from his mouth, pulling himself away from you for a moment to open the bottle.

"Hold still..." he inverts the bottle and squeezes the syrup onto your chest, making sure the syrup covers your nipples in the process.

You gasp at the feeling of the liquid slowly rolling down your skin but instantly moan as you feel the tip of Eric's tongue following the trail of the syrup as he cleans it off your body.

His tongue flicking and sucking each nipple in the process, making your back arch at his touch.

You feel your core throbbing slowly, secretly wanting to relieve yourself of the ache. But it's like Eric read your mind as he brings his hand to your inner thigh, massaging it before moving it closer to your core. His finger hooks your panty to the side before plunging two fingers inside your cunt.

The squelching sound of your dripping hole becomes audible as soon as he pumps his fingers in you at a fast pace.

You utter what Eric thinks is the most angelic moan he's ever heard in his life, motivating him to keep pumping his fingers inside you as he continues to lick the syrup off your chest.

"Oh, Eric..." you moan out his name as you arch your back more, your arms resting behind you to keep yourself balanced. The slurping sounds he makes as he continues to lick your chest have you nearing your edge.

"Fuck, you're getting tighter around my fingers. Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" He lifts his head to look at you.

"Yes! Yes! I wanna cum-"

"Then cum for me, cum all over my fingers." He increases the pace of his fingers, rubbing his thumb on your clit to help you reach your high faster.

Your high hits you like a tidal wave, making you cum so hard you're practically seeing stars. You hear Eric catching his breath as you come down from your high.

"That was fucking hot..." Eric looks at you with hazy eyes. Chest heaving as if he-

"Did you just?" Your eyes widen at the discovery.

"Yeah, I did..." his cheeks glow red in embarrassment. "Best dessert I've ever had." You giggle at his remark.

"Actually, I'm pretty good at making this one recipe. I can show you if you want." He adds.

You tilt your head to the side. "Oh? For what dessert?" He smirks at you as he squeezes your waist once more,

"Creampies..."

[p1zzaparty]

a very small, tiny, itty bitty detail i love to see in other peoples drawings of the Losers, especially as adults or young adults even, is what kind of fashion is given to them

like its almost a given that everyones Richie has some weird collection of shitty t-shirts with some nerd thing attached to it. Or brightly colored button ups with polka dots and stripes.

Eddie seems to stump everyone because i've seen him from everything to sweaters, to expensive formal wear, to neon rainbow tank tops. Personally i always saw that guy, with his bright pink and blue polo shirts and simple plain tees, as just a mixed bag of beans. He still dresses like mommy picked out clothes that she thinks would look super handsome on him, with his little stiff gelled combed hair to match. But he rarely, probably has anything that has actual words or icons on his shirts. Maybe a national park sweater here and there, that guy probably loooves gift shops. I think now with his big boy money he'll stray away from his usual get up, splurge a little, buy something branded, something new and expensive. Also something stupid, like shoes that are way too expensive. He's a fake sneakerhead, only really investing in brands he THINKS are cool or trendy. Not that he cares too much about being trendy and cool, like Richie probably does. Just...gets an ear worm sometimes, whispering to him about how they aren't that bad looking, and that he's buying it for himself, not because some jackass on tv wore them. Maybe a shiny new watch too, and maybe even a band shirt for pj-only purposes. Otherwise he's pretty strict on his expenses and just buys what fits and works as a shirt, pants, etc. Comfort over design, squarish in appearance, boxy and casually professional. I don't see him wearing a suit outside of work or waltzing into his nearest cheap café with a confident blazer and matching ironed pants. I doubt that guy even owns an iron, probably forgot to even buy one after mummy-kins passed. Even after she screeched and raved about it too, and he just ignored her tangents, assuming it wasn't even that important, all while his shirts became crinklier and sadder much like him. Sometimes i see people make him almost tooooo strict and formal and buttoned up, to y'know match Richies more casual and stoner-dork like style that's sometimes assigned to him. But Eddie, to me, is always a business casual kinda guy. Like, paid business trip to a golf course casual. Throwing on what's comfortable, giving a healthy amount of thought to what people might think of you. You will NOT find this man dressed to the nines at home, but he does, in fact, have a little pocket protector on his stupid shirt. With a pen or pencil thrown in just to make use of it, an old candy wrapper he forgot about and WILL get washed with it, or a few crumbs from his earlier microwaved breakfast burrito he had to scarf down before Myra had something to say about its ""toxic"" ingredients.

His clothes probably vary in size by a very small margin. Knowing a ball park guess of his pants and shirt sizes, always forgetting to add in it going through the washer, or how a size 30 is a size 31 in Canada or whatever. Probably because he was so used to mummy buying everything for him, even into his early 20s in college. Now he's free from her suffocating grasp, he still copies her sense of fashion and rarely does anything outlandish or fashionable. I think later down the line, in the cannon he survives and goes off to live a happily ever after with Richie, that he'd begin to explore a bit more. Getting that sugar baby money helps, and he'd have to try and buck up with Richie, trying to copy him slightly in terms of fashion.

He's a bland man Sarah, a BLAND man!

[mixingandmelting]

hello!

do you have any headcannons/scenarios in mind for poel and oliver from windbreaker?

a/n: always. it's just that i never got around to actually post them 😔

Oliver:

You’re very pretty. So, so pretty in every way. Your eyes, your smile, even when you snort it’s not weird- it’s cute. It’s still surreal that he’s dating you. Kissing you? He’d believe it was a fever dream if it wasn’t for the Scavenger Crew members screaming “finally” as soon as it happened along with the confession. 

There’s just one problem.

“Isn’t the weather nice?” A hop in each of your steps in excitement, enjoying the breeze as you both continue walking on the trail along The Lake. 

“…Yeah.” Despite the tiny smile on his face, his eyes continue to linger on your hands. 

Not once has he successfully held your hand, all the other times he tried you’d miraculously move away as if knowing and stopping his intentions. 

And despite knowing it’s not your fault, your tendency being unable to stay still, he’s close to reaching his limit. Even Clover and Poel give him a hard time, ganging up on him to poke at his failure to achieve what they claimed to be the easiest “couple” goal. 

“We should hang out at Central Park more often! Maybe rent a boat once the weather gets warmer, walk around The Mall & Literary Walk-”  

Screw it. 

It starts with a pinky gently wrapping around yours, then fingers getting tangled together. He pulls you closer so your and his palms would meet, letting his and your warmth seep in and mingle with each other. 

“How about we head towards Cherry Hill and see the cherry blossoms instead?” It’s fully intentional as he grins at the sight of your blush turning a shade deeper. At least you don’t let go, unable to convey with words and instead, squeezing his hand back. 

Poel:

He likes you. Like, like you. Loves you to bits and pieces, where he makes sure there’s no crumbs left behind for any other guys to take. Hell, there are times he has to suppress the urge to simply engulf and hide you from the rest of the world with how alarmingly sweet and adorable you are. 

However, that’s not the reason why he’s currently sharing his jacket while hugging you behind. 

“...It’s cold.” 

“Yeah, I know.” He shuffles around so more of his body heat wraps around you as concern develops in his mind that you might get sick. 

It’s dreary, raining, and not at all spring weather; all contrary to what was reported for today this morning. Neither of you had prepared for the heavy downpour, leading the two of you to take cover at a bus stop and wait until it lessens. 

The one plus to the situation and ruined date is him holding you close to his heart content, somewhat spoiled when your hands constantly move his arms so they’d completely wrap around your upper body. 

Things were going fine, enjoying the rare peace and tranquility. Until he looked down at you. 

The tip of your nose dusty red from the temp, your cheeks puffed in irritation with the timing of the weather followed by you sinking closer into him. 

There are no thoughts, not even noticing what he’s doing until his lips are on yours. 

“P-Poel???” It lasts less than half a minute, your face burning which makes him grin as heat lightly colors his.

“Thought I’d warm you up another way.” 

He becomes New York’s happiest man and more than obliges when you quietly mutter after a moment that it might work if he gives you another one.

[silvershadow1711]

Hello jello

If MC has fake friends and they judge MC for being chubby or skinny what would Ray do would he be mad

If MC met steel sheriff and steel would brake some words or sum slurs at them (if chubby or dark skinned) how would Ray react

If MC really puts their hands on Ray and really hurts him good like a really bad cat fight would he fight back (pls let him fight back)

If Ray really into being pegged would he like big sizes or smaller sizes

1- I think the MC would be seeing several missing persons reports on the news if Ray ever found out about that.

2- I mean, he'd be pisse but if you're expecting some apocolyptic fallout you're going to be disappointed. Connie already said that Ray went back to Steel's place fully intending to kill him for the abuse he suffered at his hands but couldn't bring himself to actually go through with it. As much as he despises him, there still seems to be the tinniest crumb of affection in Ray's heart for the man. Both of Ray's parental figures were horrible to him; he probably just assumes that's how parents are. He'd probably just tell the MC to ignore him. "Yeah, he called me slurs all the time, too. Eventually, it just turns into white noise."

3- If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: YOU. CANNOT. PHYSICALLY. HURT. RAY. He brushes off fucking kaiju attacks! If the most a skyscraper-sized alien hellbent on humanity's destruction can do to him is give him a little papercut that clearly isn't causing him any actual pain, what do you think a Z-list petty crook could do? When you say "let him fight back" what do you think that would entail? Because we know, canonically, how Ray "fights back". He's going to throw the MC off a building with his telekenesis. He's going to cut them into tiny pieces or melt through their brains with his laser vision. He's going to burn them alive with his pyrokenesis. He's going to casually touch them and drain their lifeforce in a matter of seconds. Ray and the MC fighting isn't going to be some cutesey battle shonen tournament arc bullshit; it's gonna be the torture scenes from "Hostel". Ray wouldn't be holding back because he's a bitch- he's holding back because he can literally kill people by looking at them the wrong way. He's not living in a world of cardboard; he's living in a world of soggy toilet paper.