#all the bells used here were from my kitten's old collars

[rosenlynx]

more bell kandi! 🍬 🔔 🍭 these are so fun to make

[dawningclan]

MOON 0 - LEAF-FALL

          “What was your old clan like?”

          “Hm? Where’d that come from?”

          “Well, you’re a clan cat. According to the stories, clan cats don’t usually leave their territory—let alone their clan permanently! So, there had to be something about your clan that made you leave.”

          Faiththorn paused for a moment. It was sunhigh, a perfect time for a nap, not for stressors like this! Urgh, I’m too old for stupid kit questions.

          She averted her gaze and noticed Flax and that new cat looking at her and Bella. They were beside the fallen log, the one they’d been using as a meeting spot. Bella turned her head to look too, which Flax responded by motioning them over with his paw.

          Bella was quick to arise. The young cat still could get up without issue. Faiththorn wasn’t so lucky, taking a moment to hoist herself up, letting out a grunt as she did so.

          They hobbled over to greet the now 3 cats by the log. The new gray cat seemed awfully excited for some reason. As she joined them, Bella broke the silence, asking, “What’s going on?”

          “Well, I thought I would have a meeting with everyone, as we’re having a new cat join us. Faiththorn, do you know if Aspenecho and Milo are here? Or are they still out hunting?”

          Faiththorn didn’t pause to think, simply tilting her head over towards the bushes and shouted, “ASPEN! MILO! ARE YOU THERE?”

          The call startled the newcomer, which she didn’t need to see as the loud jingle from the bell against their blue collar indicated a quick jolt. What was their name again?

          Shortly after, an annoyed yowl cried back, “WHAT? YOU WOKE UP REDKIT!”

          Aspenecho, eyes bleary from being jolted awake, popped his head out from the bushes. As their body emerged from the shadows, a bouncy red kitten ran out from under the legs of the lanky wildcat.

          He tottered over as Redkit began to do his usual laps around the sink. Stars above, that kit has so much energy. Shortly after, Milo also crept out from under the bush, and teetered towards the gathering cats. He let out an annoyed groan, “What do you want???”

          Flax was about to sink into himself. The newcomer was puzzled. He squeaked out, “Umm… Faiththorn, what I wanted to say was important, but it could’ve waited.”

          She shrugged, “Well, now we’ve got everyone. So, you can spit it out.”

          “Alright,” He sighed.

“Well, for a while it was just me here, then it was you, Aspenecho, and Redkit. Then Bella and Milo joined last moon cycle, and now, since a few days ago, we have them,” he motioned towards the gray cat, “And well, they want to join our little group.”

          Milo piped up, “That’s great and all, but what’s so important that we need to have a meeting about it? You didn’t have a meeting like this for me.”

          Bella continued, “Yeah, there’s got to be more to this.”

          Flax growled, “If you let me continue, I could explain.” He glared at the two who interrupted his little speech. They fell silent.

          “Well, they want to change their name. That was their whole reason for leaving the life of a kittypet because others wouldn’t accept them—"

“That makes two.”

“Shut up, Milo!”

“Thanks Bella… and that gave me the idea… we could make this group we have an official clan! You wouldn’t have to change your name if you don’t want to, but they could.”

          Faiththorn’s fur raised, “Are you serious?”

          “Course I am! Wouldn’t it be nice to have your own clan to live in again?”

          “He’s got a point,” Aspenecho inched towards her. “Having a clan to surround and love Redkit would be best for him.”

          “You said my name!” Redkit bounced over, “What are you guys talking about?”

          Faiththorn started, raising her paw to slowly push him away, “It’s none of your—”

          “Flax wants to start a clan!” the newcomer meowed excitedly.

          Redkit leaped over Faiththorn’s paw, and went over towards Flax, “Really? That sounds so cool! Like unkie Aspen’s talked about? I want to join! Can I join? Can I join?!”

          “Of course you can!” Aspenecho purred, “I’d love to join a new clan too!”

          “Yay!”             

          “You told him the stories?” Faith hissed quietly, glaring at the light gray tom.

          “Only the basics…”

          “Why not?” Bella piped in.

          “You don’t know anything about this situation.”

          Grumbling, Bella retorted, “I think I do.”

          “No, you—”

          “Are we in agreement? To make this a clan?” Flax meowed, interrupting their whispering match. The Newcomer, Redkit, and Milo, were also staring at the three.

          Milo piped up again, “Feels like a bit of a commitment, but I don’t have anything specifically against the idea.”

          Aspen meowed, “There likely wouldn’t be any big changes, not at first, at least. So don’t worry about it.” Turning to Flax, “I’d be glad to help you run a clan as your deputy, if you’d accept my help.”

          “Wait, you want me to lead? I didn’t say that!”

          The Newcomer noted, “Well, it was your idea. Why wouldn’t you be the leader?”

          “And you’ve been doing a lot of the running of this little group already,” Aspenecho continued.

          “I—guess you’re right. Yeah, I could be leader.”

          Redkit meowed, “You’d be a cool leader!”

          “Thanks, kiddo!”

          Milo meowed, “so that makes me, them, Flax, Aspenecho, and Redkit. Bella, are you in?” She nodded, and inched closer to them.

          “Faiththorn?”

          Aspenecho gave her an encouraging smile. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

          Her eyes darted between him and Redkit. The kit’s smile was wide, and he was wiggling with excitement. Maybe this is what Starclan meant.

          She took a deep breath before nodding.

          “So it’s settled! Welcome Harepaw to—‘undecided name’ Clan.” Redkit giggled at that. Flax continued, “We’ll work on names later. But welcome everyone!”

Event: Harepaw joins the clan!

[pinkiepiebones]

Dear Zombie,

Robbie here. From the bottom of my heart I wish to gift you this brand new, freshly inflated Hyper Happy Balloon (TM)!

Ah, don't you wish it worked that way?

Prompt it is then. Would you tell me about that time I decided to adopt a kitten?

Sincerely yours,

Robbie

I really do wish it worked this way. I hate feeling that balloon deflate; it's like, if you know you're just going to crash again, why even bother inflating that fucking balloon in the first place????

... Sorry. Anyway. Your kitten!

It was the '70s, right?

You were at the start of another cycle- specifically, the "transitional period." You were pretty well practiced by that point. You bought a big, old house and filled it with Master's big, old belongings and Master's big, old coffin. Master wasn't, shall we say, cognizant, yet; he wasn't verbally or mentally demanding blood but he would occasionally assault your mind via your mental link with distorted images of, well, you weren't entirely sure what he was conveying, but you had a feeling it wasn't all that pleasant. So, you had to prep for when he woke.

You were hauling a few tarp-wrapped unconscious bodies back up to the house when you spotted a tiny little cat at the door. It was so small you could have held it in one hand. It had wide eyes and was so dark and so fluffy it looked like a little bit of storm cloud was on the porch. It mewed at you as you approached and oops you were in love. You always do that, you fall in love so fast. It's sweet.

You keep Little Bit in your room. You feel weird about her seeing your, um, work, so over the next few days you entice her to stay in your room. You get her a bed and a dry food dish and a wet food bowl and a water bowl and you think about a collar with a little bell on it but the lady at the pet shop in town tells you how bells aren't good for a cat's senses. So you opt for one with a bow.

Little Bit ignores her bed when you're home and sleeps on your chest. She purrs and the sound drowns out your nerves.

Weeks pass.

One evening you're praising Little Bit for catching a grasshopper when you feel Master's presence. You start to stand but Master is there, crouching?

Oh, no.

But, wait.

Master is scritching Little Bit with his claws and cooing at her in Romanian. You're gobsmacked. You've so seldom heard him talk in his native tongue (the few times he did speak it to you you're sure it was quite dirty, whatever he was saying). Little Bit bites at his hand and he praises her fearlessness in English.

Then he is standing, behind you. Little Bit mews and winds around your ankles, purring.

"She will be useful to us," Master declares. "She will grow, and she will keep the rats away."

You feel tears well up in your eyes. You bend and pick Little Bit up and she rubs against your face, purring as loud as she can. She licks your cheek and you hold her in your hands and kiss her head.

You keep her for as long as you and Master remain in that city. Five, six years? You don't know. But the cycle starts again, just like it always does.

Before you leave you take Little Bit and her belongings and you place her on the porch of a couple you've seen often at the pet shop. You leave a note explaining who this very important cat is and her food preferences. Little Bit is confused and meows up at you. She reaches her paws out and you lean down to apologise. She butts her head against yours and you have to stand and ring the doorbell and run.

Little Bit never forgot you.

She loved you.

[thebunnylord]

Best oc that became a fan favorite in my little circle of online friends

Way back during my countryhumans days, I had this cat oc named Krampus. Krampus was Austria’s cat and the story goes was that one night Austria went to a bar, got black out drunk, fell asleep and woke up to find this long haired black scruffy kitten on his bed, Austria does not own a cat, nor does he remember acquiring said cat

Krampus hates everyone and everything that wasn’t long naps in the sun or salmon treats and was basically an old man trapped in a cat’s body

Krampus once cornered Germany in the bathroom one night while Germany was staying at Austria’s house and hissed at him

Krampus hates the Canadian national anthem

Krampus used to try and trip Austria’s BLIND FATHER ON PURPOSE

Krampus hates his bell collar and ate the bell

Krampus hates Austria’s Austro-Hungarian flag that he has hung up on his bedroom ceiling and would do everything in his will power to tear it down only to get snagged and scream until someone gets him down

Krampus hates classical music and would scream while Austria-Hungary is playing the piano

Krampus stole Austria-Hungary’s eyepatches and buried them in the litter box

One time while Krampus was outside trying to avoid walking on grass, Austria saw a group of dog walkers with their five big dogs walking up the street and he yelled “get your dogs out of here! I have a cat!” And before the dog walkers could explain that their dogs were calm and won’t harm the cat, Krampus flies out of nowhere and beats the living crap out of the dogs.

During one Christmas when they had a fire in the fireplace, Krampus just sat in front of it and starred at the flames for hours

Krampus once got out and climbed a huge pine tree that had a few high voltage power lines running through it, so Austria sends Hungary to risk his life by climbing up to the top of the tree, get dangerously close to the high voltage power lines while holding onto a pillowcase with one hand and the tree in the other all while Krampus is swatting at him and hissing and biting leaving Hungary resorting to yelling “KRAMPUS!! GET IN THE BAG!!” I can’t remember if Hungary just flung Krampus in the bag, or chopped the top of the tree down to reach Krampus. I know it was heavily inspired by the time my Brother had to get his son’s cat, Chris Farley, down from a tall pine tree with high voltage wires running just below him.

When My readers found out that Krampus was put down due to cancer, they were so mad at me. Even my mom was when I told her about Krampus, she said that Cats have nine lives so why not just bring Krampus back?

When Krampus got to heaven he went “so this is heaven, I hate it.”

There was going to be a follow up story where it’s the day Austria had to put Krampus down, and at the end it showed that Austrian Empire was there in the afterlife to look after Krampus.

When I told some redditors about Krampus without saying any of the character’s names or what fandom, one of them said “I don’t know anything about your fanfic or which fandom this is but I love Krampus”

I have decided that if I get another bunny, I’m naming them Krampus.

Krampus became so popular that one of my readers included him in a oneshot and another one of my readers on Wattpad drew this fanart of Krampus

[lou-struck]

Chasing Tails

Shota Aizawa X Reader

Cat sitting for your Coworker leads to a meet-cute with your new neighbor

You've built quite the reputation for yourself over the years for being kind, organized, and helpful. But if any of your close friends were to say anything it was that sometimes you were too nice….

Being dependable was great when it came to opportunities to advance in your career. But sadly people understood something about you. You could never say no to a request once someone asks you face to face.

So here you are: It's a Friday morning and you're quietly making yourself a cup of tea in the small break room of your communications office. Relaxing onto some old mismatched office chairs waiting for your water to boil

You've been busy all week with work and moving into your new apartment so you have been on the go clocking in and clocking out as soon as all your work was done for that day, to say the least, you're exhausted and just want to drink your water cooler paper cup of tea in peace and get yourself home and away from these fluorescent lights as soon as possible.

Making your way to your cubicle you are stopped by the all too familiar voice of Margaret, your branch manager. She walks with you to your workstation and you swear that she is talking to you but truthfully you're so exhausted that she sounds like one of the adults in a peanuts cartoon. After what seems like an eternity she stops talking and looks at you expectantly.

(Apparently, she just asked you a question, you pause and try in vain to figure out what she had just asked you to do for her. It has to be a favor because that is the only reason why Margret would talk to you in the first place.)

Accepting your fate, you nod and give her a semi convincing smile that she buys completely.

“Thank you so much for doing this Y/N, I knew that you weren't doing anything this weekend so you would be more than willing to help us out. I’ll stop by your place around 6.” With that, she turns heel and vultures down the hall looking for a conversation to insert herself into, leaving you to wonder what in the world you agreed to do for her at 6 o’clock this evening.

Sardonically you shrug to yourself and get to work. Because whatever it is she has you do for her, the aftermath can be rectified with a power nap and a bottle of cheap wine.

You clocked out around 3 and stumbled through your front door soon after. dodging piles of boxes and bins from your open window giving you a soft breeze that you are more than thankful for. Collapsing onto the lone mattress in the center of the new bedroom you groan, there is so much to do and you're so overwhelmed the only thing you can do is try and catch up on some much-needed rest…

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

A few hours later, a sharp rapping on your front door wakes you from your power nap. Groggily you sit up and make your way to the door and open it up hesitantly to find an extremely chipper Margret beaming at you with a truly sincere grin, a red-topped pet carrier in one hand and a large diaper bag in the other.

“Thank you again for doing this Y/N, my wife and I have been trying to go on a getaway for months but the hotel we are staying at won’t let us bring Snickers along with us.”

“Cat Sitting, so that's what she asked you to do,” you thought to yourself,

She hurriedly hands over her luggage to you, presses a quick kiss to the top of the cat carrier, and rushes down the hall and to the stairwell leaving you at your open door with a new companion and an agape mouth.

Closing your mouth, you head back inside gently placing the cat carrier down. Laying on the floor you make eye contact with the adorable Blue-grey Kitten who cutely raises a paw in greeting. Gently opening the cage he curiously steps out to inspect his surroundings, the little bell on his collar jingling cutely. It's super peaceful except for one thing, The Apartment door is open and Snickers begins to make a break towards it. Before you could even stand on your own two feet Snickers was gone with only the faint ringing following soon after.

You take off trying to follow the sound of the bell turning the corner to find Snickers happily purring in the arms of a man with long ink-black hair. He has a long scar just beneath his eye only enhancing the dark shadows beneath them. But the biggest takeaway that you get from him is that he has absolutely gorgeous tired eyes and all.

“Looking for someone?” he asks with a deep voice, making eye contact with you with the hint of a smile on his face.

“The..my...Cat” you plant out obviously out of breath from your brief sprint. Placing your hands on your knees, try to catch your breath.

He chuckles before reaching over to Snickers’ little collar reading it. “Hmmm, you don't look like a Margeret, I may have to keep this little guy safe.” He jokes before handing the car carefully back to you.

“It’s my boss’s cat.” you admit before continuing “I got roped into a last-minute cat sitting and he just ran out the door. He’s kinda a handful.” He seems to understand your situation but you inwardly curse yourself for making a fool of yourself in front of your new neighbor.

“Well, anyways thank you for helping with Snickers earlier, I’m Y/n, I live down the hall.”

“Shota Aizawa,” he replies, his deep voice putting butterflies in your stomach.

You smile and turn to walk down the hall, Snickers in tow, hoping that you haven't completely bothered him.

“Do you need any help with him?” he asks after you. Working to contain your excitement you quickly compose yourself and turn once again to face him.

“Only if you don't mind,” You say as the two of you walk down the hallway to your door. Opening it to reveal the labyrinth of boxes from your move. As Snickers goes to sleep on your mattress.

“It looks like you need help with more than just the cat y/n.” Shota says looking around “Exactly how long have you been moved in?”

You can't meet his eyes as you tell him it's been a week. He chuckles and asks if you want any help. He’s excited to do something more than grading papers so spending the evening with his cute neighbor doesn't sound too bad.

As you begin unpacking you find the kitchenware, “Can I get you anything to drink?” you ask as he settles on the floor to assemble some furniture.

“Hmmm, what do you have?” he answers

“I have convenience store wine and tap water,” you reply reaching for the fridge.

“Wine will do just fine,” he says as he mocks you for your nutritional choices. And so, the two of you spend the evening with a bottle of wine unpacking your boxes and assembling your new furniture. As you get to know each other better. Before bidding him goodnight in the small hours of the morning accepting his invitation for a date to the nearby Cat Cafe for next Sunday.

It’s kinda funny that the two of you worked so hard to get your apartment in shape unpacking your boxes and such only to have to pack up and move again in a year or so; down the hall into your boyfriend's apartment.

[descendantsramblings]

Style Headcanons

So basically, I’m a big hater to the way the costume team worked on them. The whole “All Isle kids wear Leather” and “Auradon Kids always look like they’re on their first kid and on the way to the country club” thing drives me crazy. It sorta feels like they made costumes before giving them personalities (The leather on Carlos  and Evie feels like it clashes with their personalities. Lonnie’s dresses in the first movie doesn’t fit the personality we see, even though she didn’t have much of a personality until movie two. Audrey dressed like a thirty-four year old mother who just picked up her kid before going to the country club. Ben’s only good outfit was his swim trunks.) So here are some personal headcanons and pictures of what I imagine for them. (I started making them at 1am last night lol)

Villain Kids 

Evie

As someone raised to want to be a princess, she wants to dress like how she imagines a princess would.

She loves pastels and is no stranger to pairing pastel blue with a neutral red or bright white. 

The only pants she really wears are either athletic shorts or those little flowy elastic shorts, otherwise she’s all skirts.

She’s sorta a prep but not in the same way a character like Audrey would be. 

Evie has respect for most aesthetics, even though she doesn’t fully fit just one. However, she hates crocs and those little pastel shorts that white boys wear, she will announce it often.

Wouldn’t be caught dead in neon colors. 

owns a blue fur coat (it’s fake fur, obviously)

Carlos

Baby boy is a total softie

You know that one gay little sweater in movie one, that’s where they went right, more of that.

He’s into the soft boy aesthetic and only strays from it for formal wear

loves layering sweaters over button ups

Cuffed jeans, always because ya know, bisexual 

Owns a floral button up from Jay, normally he hates patterned button ups but it’s his favorite shirt. 

Loves striped sweaters, he owns about 6 variations of them in different colors (all include red, white, or black of course)

Jay 

In theory, Jay doesn’t really have one aesthetic, he’s willing to try on just about anything

Most of his clothing was bought by Evie or Carlos, especially his formal wear

The only clothes that Jay will buy for himself is athletic wear

He doesn’t really see the point of buy clothing that he can’t go straight to practice in. 

Still has the beanie,  but he owns one in just about every color to match it to his outfit.

Listen, we know Jay’s main color is yellow/gold, but why did we always see him with more red/blue in the movie? What type of snow white aesthetic were they trying to give him?

Jay owns a button up that he write on, he refuses to wear it actually buttoned though

Mal

She loves the grunge/alternative aesthetic, she thinks it makes her look more like she belongs to the Isle

She wouldn’t wear skirts until after she and Evie became friends, Evie bought her her first skirt (a purple plaid one) and she fell in love with it

Mal has a whole jewelry box of just chains, both necklaces and ones that attach to clothing 

Owns a pair of Demonia Swing-815 boots (black patent) and a pair of Demonia Camel-203 boots (holographic purple) 

100% owns one of those studded hot topic belts. 

Has a headband with little horns that symbolize her mother’s horns 

Instead of the leather half gloves from the movie, she has those little fishnet gloves and covers her hands in rings.

Uma

Her style is similar to Mal’s because if Mal is going to do something, Uma will do it better.

Uma only wore outfits that were super Fem and had skirts until Mal started doing it

Then it was Uma always wearing pants, because of her love for plaid skirts she owns a whole collection of plaid pants

the only jeans she owns are black or dark wash. 

Her first ever large purchase was a pair of Doc Marten 1460 Zip Tartan Lace up boots (they’re green, black, and blue plaid) 

She and Harry bought matching Doc Marten Jadon platforms (his are more shiny though)

Isn’t as into chains as Mal, more into chockers. 

Harry 

When the E-boy aesthetic came out, Harry was all over it 

Harry definitely has one of those chains with a little lock on it. 

I’d like to imagine he has baby gauges

the before mentioned platform doc martens, he definitely treats them like his baby

Even though Harry dresses like an e-boy,  he always has his pirate hat on

Definitely wears cloth masks as a fashion piece he actually would wear his in the pandemic though, unlike some people who wore them before but not for safety 

Harry is actually really good at graphic liner, he owns a gold, red, and white eyeliner to add color to the outfit if it’s mainly black

gold>silver 

Bought plaid pants because Uma did, he want’s to match with his captain

Gil 

As we know (maybe you don’t) it’s in the canon that Gil’s mother taught him to sew and he enjoys it. 

So Gil doesn't dress in one aesthetic or even close to being in one, he wants to try out everything, both making and wearing them.

He does stick to a monochrome color scheme though, mainly shades of brown with white or black thrown in. Sometimes he adds a little red or yellow though to “honor” Gaston

Most of his clothing is more comfortable than anything

Only owns three pairs of jeans, the rest are different types of pants (he loves corduroys) 

Owns a pants chain that harry bought him but he only really wears it when Harry and Uma are wearing one so he won’t feel left out on it. 

Dizzy 

Baby girl has seen the Isle steal the childhood innocence from people, she dresses in kidcore as a way to keep hers

Her outfits always has at least 4 different colors in it.

No stranger to neon colors, she has a pair of overalls that are neon rainbow and covered in gummy candy and she only wears them with a neon green tee, Evie and Carlos hate this outfits, Jay loves it because of the disappointment it brings to the two fashion fans 

Dizzy’s outfits in the movie were colorful obviously but they should have been just more over the top

She loves patterns and has no fear of pattern mixing

definitely owns some funky earrings, clay rings, and  statement necklaces

puts beads on her shoe laces, especially on her converse (they were white ones, she drew all over them) 

Auradon Kids 

Ben

Okay so Ben’s animated and movie outfits were bad, you can’t convince me of anything else

Why was Ben not dressed in the soft boy aesthetic? You’re trying to tell me that Belle’s son wouldn’t be a soft boy?

He has a jean jacket with his father’s beast symbol painted on the back

Absolutely loves graphic crewnecks, often layers them over collared shirts

He and Carlos go shopping together often in their free time

Lover of funky crew socks,  ones with paintings, patterns, logos, whatever. But his socks always match

After he and Mal started Dating, he bought a white jean jacket and let her paint it, he wears it all the time even though it didn’t match his original clothing, he bought more clothes in her color scheme to match it

He owns like 6 pairs of high top converse (light blue, yellow, white, navy, black, and Purple after getting the jacket back from Mal)

Chad

Listen, out of everyone he was the closest to how I imagined he should be, that being said, he had a little soft boy thing going on in some movies that I don’t think fit his personality

Polos and button ups are basically all he owns, but he does have some of those pastel simply southern esc graphic tees (Southern people probably know what I’m on about, all the guys who act like Chad at my school have like 5 of them each)

Owns 6 pairs of those horrid little southern boy pastel shorts in different shades of blue (plus 1 white pair)

Will not wear jeans, ever, the only pants he owns are khakis

All over the shirts that have logos embroidered into the shirt over the chest. 

Definitely gets asked if he’s on the way to golf/ the country club, the joke is that he is, he has to meet his father there after school

prep.jpg

Audrey 

Listen, I’m not an Audrey stan, but they did her so dirty in the first movie

She should have been the stereotypical mean girl outfit wise, I mean, mini skirts, all pastels

Owns a pink teddy coat, and a white one, she actually cares about if they get dirty though, takes good care of them

definitely has a collection of tennis skirts, pairs them with sweaters/crewnecks or blouses that have a slight puff to the sleeve

The type of girl to wear rufflely rompers on her birthday every year, pink, white, or baby blue obviously

loves those tiny shoulder bags

preppy and looks good in it. 

cropped polos and tube tops

Jane

This account is a Jane should have been cottage core/ fairy core fan page, her outfits were almost there, just not there, she’s literally a fairy but can’t use magic nor did they let her dress like one, I hate it here

Baby girl loves gingham and floral patterns, some of her dresses are a little more to her mother’s taste than hers (her mother bought them) but as long as it’s a pattern she likes she will wear it. 

Cardigans are her best friend, she owns one in multiple shades of pink and blue, plus a white one (all of her clothing fits a pastel pink/blue/white color scheme)

Babydoll dresses her a her favorite style of them (the one I put in the top right corner is what I imagine her birthday dress as) 

People try to mockingly ask if she’s on her way to a tea party/picnic (like they do with Chad and the country club) if the answer isn’t actually yes one of her friends still say yes, no one can be rude to her about it 

She owns a corset (Evie bought it for her, it made her nervous at first but she loves it) 

Owns kitten heels and flats mainly also two pairs of mary janes (in white and blue) 

has one of those little pearl purses that aren’t really useful but they’re cute 

Lonnie

Last but not least, our funky little lesbian (she is, Jay is just her emotional support queer man) Lonnie, she sticks to the teal, blue, and pink color scheme they gave her in movie one

She mainly wears sweats (or athletic clothing) otherwise it’s graphic tees tucked in (many of them are from the men’s section) 

Only wears sneakers, she has places to be but also collects them (also owns 1 pair of pink crocs, Evie tried to burn them)

Carlos and Ben talked her into wearing a collar shirt under a graphic tee once (they bought her a sleeveless button up which she hated at first) and now she does it anytime she wants to look like she put effort into her outfit. 

Wears a lot of necklaces and rings (she loves to layer necklaces, she thinks it makes her sweats look less boring) 

Uses a mini backpack instead of a purse, easier to carry more things.

Has two pairs of custom painted air forces. 

Hates wearing bracelets but always has to have a hair tie on her wrist so they don’t feel empty .

[pillage-and-lute]

@thequeeninyellowlace requested “ Geraskier discovering that angry, testy Lambert is actually a big kitten? ❤️❤️”

Warning: some derogatory language, especially anti-sex work slang (although all the witchers are canonically pro-sex work)

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“I can’t believe you brought your bard to the keep,” Lambert groused. It was the same complaint he’d had all week, ever since Geralt arrived with Jaskier in tow.

“He’s my bard, this is my home,” Geralt said. “I wanted to bring him here.”

Lamberts stood, slamming his mug on the dinner table and glaring at Jaskier. “You wanted a whore to warm your bed in the winter.”

“No,” Jaskier said calmly, turning over a page in the book he’d borrowed from the keep’s library. “Geralt wanted a slut to keep his bed warm in the winter. That’s me.”

“I don’t see a difference,” Lambert growled.

“Lambert c’mon,” Eskel groaned. “This is getting old.”

“The difference,” Jaskier said, speaking over the scarred wolf but not looking up from his book. “Is that I love Geralt very much and I fuck him for free.”

Lambert stormed out, presumably to go throw things about in the armory. Geralt pressed a kiss into Jaskier’s hair.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “He’s not good with change.”

“It’s okay, dear heart, I’m sure he’ll warm up to me.”

Eskel stood and began clearing the dinner dishes. “Good luck with that,” he said.

Vesemir smiled across at Geralt and Jaskier, who were sitting so closely entwined. It was good to see his reclusive pup happy, and he had an idea what had gotten under Lambert’s skin. Before he retired to the library, Vesemir paused, resting a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Jaskier smiled in return.

-- -- -- -- -- -- 

Some days later the younger wolves were relaxing in the hot springs after training. Vesemir had well and truly put them through their paces and their muscles needed a good, long soak. 

Jaskier appeared, looking almost as beat as they felt. He’d been tending the handful of sheep and two goats that Vesemir kept, mending their fence today. In the cold, with the animals butting in and distrustful, it was hard, slow work. He slid in beside Geralt with a sigh.

Lambert huffed, but, exhausted, wasn’t about to leave the hot springs. Eskel eyed him in amusement.

Geralt, to the shock of everyone but himself and Jaskier, curled himself in and rested his head on Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier didn’t even blink and instead reached around and began stroking Geralt’s back and shoulders soothingly. This continued for a few minutes, the other wolves watching a little dumbly. Then Geralt pressed a light kiss to Jaskier’s collar bone and turned around on the ledge, resting his arms out of the bath. Jaskier took this in his stride too and began firmly kneading out the knots between Geralt’s shoulder blades. 

Lambert saw the difference now. Jaskier wasn’t a whore, because even the best paid ones wouldn’t touch so...reverently. They didn’t gentle the tension out of scarred skin and pull the knots from muscles. He shot a glance at Eskel, who was watching with the same half envy half hunger that he felt.

Then Jaskier just got up and walked over to a basket settled next to the wall. He and Geralt had brought that too, it had soaps and oils in it. Jaskier hesitated for a moment, then he picked up the whole basket and brought it to the edge of the hot spring. 

He settled back in, seemingly unaware of the eyes on him, and handed Geralt a bar of soap. It was the usual pale yellow-white color for soap, but Vesemir made all his soap in a big vat and it smelled to high heaven and cleaned by taking a layer of skin off every time it was used. This stuff smelled nice.

“Chamomile,” Eskel said, sniffing. “And bergamot?” 

“Very good,” Jaskier said. “It’s Geralt’s favorite.”

Geralt having a favorite soap was news to his brothers, but they didn’t comment. Jaskier poured a little oil into his hands, but it was mixed with soap or something, because he rubbed it into a bit of a lather and began to work it through Geralt’s hair. 

Geralt reacted like a pampered housecat, arching back into the touch and humming as Jaskier worked. The bard seemed to be doing something of a scalp massage while cleaning and the wolves heard a rumble start up in Geralt’s chest.

It wasn’t purring, not exactly. But all witchers could do it, only when they were truly relaxed of course. It was a whole chest rumble that always seemed to soak into their bones. Lambert scowled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d purred.

Eventually, with Geralt boneless against the side of the pool, Jaskier finished, rinsing the suds from snow white hair and kissing the back of Geralt’s head.

“Alright,” Jaskier said, pulling two more bars of soap from his basket. “Pick one, each of you.”

“What?” Lambert said. 

“I brought five types of soap, Geralt told me about what you all have up here. So I brought his and mine, and one for each of you. Vesemir already picked his.”

“Did he?” Geralt asked.

“Yes dear heart, he gave me the tour the other day, picked that fig and goat’s milk one I brought”

“Hmmm,” Geralt replied, seemingly fast asleep.

Obediently, and somewhat hypnotized, Eskel and Lambert leaned forward to sniff each soap bar. 

The first made Eskel’s nose crinkle, and he quickly moved on to the second one, but Lambert lingered. The first one was nice. 

It was slightly green, which was weird, but it was nice.

They each picked the one they wanted and Jaskier smiled. “Excellent,” he said. “Now let me wash your hair.”

“Geralt,” Lambert said, immediately on edge. “Your bard is trying to fuck us.”

“My bard,” the white wolf answered drowsily, “Is trying to help you. Be nice.”

“You first,” Lambert muttered to Eskel. Eskel just shrugged and let Jaskier work on his back, settling in to a very similar position to the one Geralt had taken. He let out a few grunts as the bard worked skilled fingers into the cords of muscle on either side of his spine, but they certainly didn’t sound pained. Eskel even chatted quietly with Geralt as Jaskier worked. Then, obediently, he let Jaskier wash his hair.

“The soap you picked is oat and lavender,” the bard said. “So I have lavender oil for your hair, but tell me if it’s too strong, we can use something else.”

Eskel sniffed as Jaskier poured some of the faintly purple liquid into his palm. “Smells fine,” he said. Jaskier smiled, humming faintly as he worked it into Eskel’s hair, commenting a few times on how well kept it was. 

“Geralt always let’s his turn into a rat’s nest whenever I’m away.”

That made Eskel and Lambert raise their eyebrows. Geralt had always been meticulous about his hair, more so than was practical for a witcher. Eyebrows raised further when he blushed slightly and avoided their gaze.

The scalp massage continued and, to Lambert’s complete surprise, Eskel began to purr quietly. Jaskier smiled, but not mockingly or cruelly, and continued his work.

Eventually Jaskier finished with Eskel’s hair and then looked towards Lambert questioningly. “I don’t have to wash your hair if you’d rather I didn’t,” he said. “But I like doing it, and I think you’d like it too.”

“Let him, Lamb,” Geralt grunted before Lambert could say anything. 

“I was going to,” he grumbled as he turned around. 

The first press of hands into his back nearly burned. 

Money was scarce on the Path, even with Toss a Coin playing in every tavern. This year had been harsh on many of the villages Lambert passed through too, and they paid him what they could. 

Sometimes he was in the business of returning most or all of the payment, if things were bad.

All that to say, there had been no prostitutes, or bed mates of any kind, all year. Maybe one or two the year before that. Apart from his brothers, who he sparred with and got drunk with, almost no one touched him.

Jaskier touched him like being afraid of him was a foreign concept. Calloused fingers found every knot and point of tension and worked them out. Lambert felt like dough under a rolling pin.

“Where did you learn this?” he wondered aloud. “And why?”

Jaskier chuckled, digging his fingers into Lambert’s neck as he did so in a way that should have set off alarm bells but instead just sent electricity down his spine. “See,” Jaskier said. “I spent my time at university working for a bathhouse to make extra money-well, it was mostly a brothel but it offered baths. I just warmed up towels and sliced soap.”

“Mmmhm,” Lambert said, feeling his mind numb under the onslaught of touch.

“And one of the older women there, Rosie, lovely lady, taught me to make soap and find the right ones. Also taught me about massage, not the happy ending kind, that education I got elsewhere, but good information.”

It must have been, Lambert thought. It felt like Jaskier’s hands were touching his soul through his skin. 

Then Jaskier moved on to his hair. 

Lambert let the feeling wash over him as gentle fingers kneaded into his head, taking away headaches he hadn’t known were there. Manicured fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp. 

It was so good.

It was so nice to be touched when it wasn’t sex or sparring. It felt like a balm on Lambert’s soul and he’d been so jealous. Geralt had brought the bard and gotten all the touch he could want and left Eskel and Lambert without, but he was sharing this. It was like honey inside his brain. To his shame Lambert felt his eyes prickle. 

Witchers could cry. Their eyes didn’t tear up with wind, dust, or pain as much, because that could compromise their eyesight in battle, but emotion could bring tears. 

“It’s okay,” Geralt whispered, although not so low that Jaskier wouldn’t hear. “He won’t judge you.”

“I did too, a little,” Eskel said. Had he? Lambert hadn’t noticed. He let tears fall mixing with the moisture from the steam on his face. Jaskier reached around to get more oil and one landed on his hand, so he brushed a thumb down the tear track on Lambert’s face.

It could have, should have felt either patronizing or romantic. It wasn’t. It was just intimate. Gentle, intimate, platonic touch. Lambert began to cry a little harder. 

Geralt sidled over and leaned against him, pressing their shoulders together. Eskel joined in on the other side so that Lambert was sandwiched between his older brothers. 

They sat like that until Jaskier rinsed out Lambert’s hair.

He’d taken longer on the wash, Lambert noted, even though he had the least hair of the three of them. He was grateful for it. 

Eskel and Lambert watched as Geralt washed Jaskier’s hair, passing Geralt the bottle of oil--mint, to go with the mint and honey soap Jaskier favored--whenever Geralt needed it.

Lambert realised he was purring, and wondered how long he’d been doing it, but he had a pretty good idea.

[bi-aragorn]

Only The Best For My Kitten

And my final one (on this account anyway aha) for @thepassifloradiscord smut battle!

For the prompt gifting your pet a new collar

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Modern AU, Collars, Kitten Jaskier, Kitten Play, Pet Play, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Lap Sex, Biting

Pairing: Jaskel

Here on Ao3

Sweet little kitten Jask that I only barely managed to make horny at the last minute below

Jaskier hadn’t been expecting to find a parcel on the bed when he got home. He could hear the ambient sounds of Eskel pottering about in the kitchen, the radio on, his boyfriend humming along as was his habit. Jaskier smiled, and carefully picked up the package, taking it through to the other room.

“Hey,” Eskel said, still swaying by the stove, stirring a pan on top of it. “Be done in a sec,” Jaskier perched on the counter next to him, ignoring the way Eskel tutted at him in favour of leaning in to press a kiss to Eskel’s cheek.

“Can I open this?” Jaskier asked, waving the parcel- and frowning at the noise it made. Was that a jingle? Curious, he shook it again- and the noise sounded out again, loud and clear. “Is there a bell in this?” Jaskier asked, incredulous. Eskel shrugged.

“Thought you could use a new one,” the tips of his ears had turned pink, avoiding Jaskier’s eyes as he stirred the pasta. “Maybe we can play after dinner?” Jaskier’s mouth felt dry. He swallowed thickly and licked his lips, voice still coming out in a hoarse croak when he next tried to speak.

“You- you didn’t have to,” Embarrassingly, he could feel tears threatening to escape his eyes, and Jaskier sniffled, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his jumper. His old collar had befallen an unfortunate accident with the washing machine after their last play session, and now, finally having a new one in his hands, Jaskier felt a little overcome. Eskel finally looked up from the pan, flicking the heat off from underneath it.

“Go settle on the bed for me, pet,”

Jaskier could only nod as he scampered off to the bedroom, clutching his present close to his chest, overwhelmed already before they’d even started. Flopping onto his back on the bed, he sprawled out comfortably and fiddled with the edges of the wrapping paper, eager to get started. It only took a moment for Eskel to follow him into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Come on, up you get, kitty,” he said, and then careful arms were under Jaskier’s armpits, tugging him up to rest against the pillows. “Here, let me get this off for you,” Jaskier hummed under his breath, nodding and letting himself slip into the soft kitten headspace reserved for when he and Eskel played like this. He sat, pliant and quiet, as Eskel undressed him, leaving him in his briefs.

“Shall we see what my pretty kitty’s got there?” Eskel said, sitting down next to him, and making Jaskier hiss, startled. He blushed a little, not having meant to react like that, but Eskel didn’t seem to care, only laughing and rubbing a hand across his cheek.

“Sorry, pet,” he murmured, and scratched Jaskier behind his ear in the way he knew always made his boyfriend melt, kitten space or not. “Do you want to open it?” His voice was gentle, trying not to spook Jaskier again, and Jaskier hummed, and nudged Eskel’s shoulder with his head. He was past the point of words now, reduced to noises and gestures, content with expressing himself like this after all the time they’d played with this headspace.

He clawed at the parcel with his hands, batting at the loose flaps of paper as he tore into it. Mewing, a high noise escaped from his throat as he finally got his present free of its wrapping. It was a collar, just as he’d suspected, dark red with a dainty little silver bell dangling from the middle of it. Jaskier felt his heart rate increase, thumping fit to burst out his chest. It was so pretty, and he wanted it on now, wanted to feel Eskel’s hands on him as he slipped it around his neck.

Nudging Eskel with his head again, Jaskier hummed and blinked up at him from behind dark lashes.

“Oh, does my pretty little kitten want something?” Eskel said, running a hand through Jaskier’s hair. Mewing again, Jaskier glanced pointedly at the collar, shuffling in place, eager. “Of course, anything for you,” Eskel murmured, and picked up the delicate little collar. “That’s it, so good for me,” he kept muttering sweet words, gently petting Jaskier’s side as he slipped the collar around his neck and fastened it, checking the fit of it thoroughly before turning back to Jaskier.

“What shall I do with you now, little one?”

Jaskier stared back at him, letting out a little rumble from his chest, the noise sounding a little like a purr. Eskel smiled, and picked Jaskier up, moving him so that he was straddling his thick thighs.

“I think,” his voice was barely above a whisper, hand skating across Jaskier’s trembling stomach, “that my sweet kitten deserves my cock, hmm?” Jaskier gasped, pawing at Eskel’s chest, humming and nodding, shaking a little with excitement. That sounded perfect, and he could hardly wait, needier than usual when he was in his kitten space.

Quivering on Eskel’s lap, he couldn’t help but shudder more as he was peeled out of his underwear, and a cold, slick finger was pressed up against his hole. He whined as it slowly pressed into him, and hid his face in Eskel’s chest as his boyfriend worked him open, teasingly slow, gentle, cautious. It was wonderful and terrible all at once- the sensation brilliant, but altogether too slow. A series of pitiful, needy whines escaped Jaskier’s mouth with each touch until he was squirming and whimpering on Eskel’s lap.

He could barely stand it when Eskel paused to pull his cock out, letting out a long sob, pawing at his chest until Eskel gentled him with another scratch behind his ears.

“There, it’s ok kitten, I’ve got you,” Eskel whispered into his ear, and slowly lowered Jaskier onto his cock. Jaskier gasped, and ducked his head again, biting down on Eskel’s shoulder, making the man moan. “Fuck, Jask,” he groaned, bucking his hips up into him, making Jaskier shake with the force of his thrusts. “Such a pretty kitty in your new collar,” With each rough push of Eskel’s hips, the little bell on Jaskier’s collar rang out, chiming as he bounced on Eskel’s lap, moving faster and faster, drawing ever closer to the edge.

“Gods, Jask, fuck,” Eskel groaned, reaching up and tugging at the collar. Jaskier yelped, and came undone. He clenched down hard on Eskel’s cock, letting out a string of whines and moans as he came all over his chest, scrabbling at Eskel’s back, teeth pushing hard into his shoulder. Barely a second later, he felt Eskel shudder and spill inside of him, filling him with his come. He released the collar, a final jingle ringing out through the air as they clutched each other close, content in each other’s embrace.

[jensungf]

𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄? ฅ 𝐥.𝐣𝐧

summary: your mother always told you a lot as a child — about how you should always be kind to others, to always watch out for stray kittens in dark allies on your way to school and most importantly, to not judge a book by its cover. you didn’t always listen to her. yet you would have to say your biggest weakness would come in the form of cats. and maybe lee jeno as well. 

pairing: shy!reader + badboy!lee jeno genre: high school!au, fluff<3 word count: 1.8k warnings: language, mentions of disease

author’s note: another one of my blurbs that accidentally turned into a really long drabble hehe i hope the anonnie who requested this enjoys! <3 as always constructive criticism is appreciated and you can request after checking my prompt list.

  just like every other caring parent, your mom went on and on about what she deemed to be important life lessons during your childhood, and even now — about how you should always be kind to others, to always watch out for stray kittens if you pass by the alley next to the flower garden on your way to school and most importantly, to not judge a book by its cover.

you tried your best to listen to her. you really did. but sometimes, people had weaknesses and besides your more than often bouts of procrastination and incessant affinity for watermelon sour patch candies — 

(“if i was your dentist, i’d probably hate and love you,” jisung snickered as you shot him a look of confusion. “‘cause you must have hella cavities but that would mean i could charge you more money! i’m so sm- ow, that hurts (y/n)!” you rolled your eyes after picking up the bag of watermelon sour patches you had thrown at his forehead and ripping it open to pop one in your mouth) 

—  yet you would have to say your biggest weakness would come in the form of cats. cute, fluffy, insanely adorable stray cats.

    although you had your fair share of friends, you preferred to stray away from human interaction (honestly, it was too much of a hassle, you were never really the type to approach people first anyways, your shyness getting the best of you and you preferred it that way), you preferred the company of much smaller, fluffier animals. although your mother always warned you about the dangers stray animals possessed, whether it be how they could carry rabid diseases or put you at risk of bad luck, you stopped hesitating to bring some snacks for the poor, small kittens years ago on your daily walk to school.

    you paused as soon as you heard a small mewl followed by some rustling and shuffled your feet forward, peering into the dark alley before you felt something nudge against your leg. you jumped back, but let out a sigh of relief. you crouched down, holding your hand out for the tiny kitten to nuzzle against.

    you cooed and reached into your backpack, bringing out the cubes of watermelon you had packed earlier before gently offering a piece to the black and white kitten. 

    “what do you think you’re doing?” a gruff voice asked, causing you to flinch and jump back. your head snapped up, only to find the source of the voice to be someone who scared you a lot more than you liked to admit.

lee jeno.

    everyone who knew anyone knew that lee jeno fit in with the cliche archetype of a bad boy. he hung out with his troublemaker friends in a group of seven (including jisung, but how you still managed to be friends with that giant noodle without encountering his friends, you will still never know), with rumors spreading like wildfire amongst your peers of them always being late to school, stirring up mischief with their motorbikes and causing ruckuses during detention. 

you didn’t expect him to be here out of all places.

     he was never the center of all of the attention, preferring to stay behind his loudmouth friends and observe quietly, laughing whenever donghyuck or jaemin would make a joke and joining in with his friends’ antics whenever he felt like it. but make no mistake — the moment anyone saw his muscular arms and the glint in his eye, they knew he wasn’t going to be one to mess with.

    you realized he was staring you expectantly, waiting for an answer but your brain seemed to short-circuit from surprise. you opened your mouth, desperately trying to rack up a response with your pea-sized brain (stupid y/n, why did i have to forget how to speak an entire language right at this very moment?, you groaned internally) before closing your mouth and averting your eyes to the very interesting concrete ground.

“cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased, smirking almost flirtatiously. (you never noticed it but jeno’s ears flushed red, not knowing where this sudden confidence came from. he usually wasn’t the type to flirt… at least not like this in broad daylight with a random pretty stranger. he’d be damned to say jaemin was finally rubbing off on him.)

   you bit your lip, unsure what to say back and cursed yourself for being so awkward. you glanced briefly at his figure, his broad shoulders donning his signature outfit of a black leather jacket, low cut almost hawaiian-looking shirt and ripped skinny jeans (it was literally so sunny outside, how was he not sweating in that? also, did he ever wash that jacket? you could’ve sworn you had never even seen him without it) before pressing your lips into a firm, thin line.

  your eyes fluttered down to the kitty, ignoring him, yet you were struggling to remember how to breathe properly. your friends had always called you shy, albeit approachable, but you never realized how difficult it was for you to just simply talk to someone you actually sort of wanted to talk to until this very moment. why was just saying a single word so hard? and why did it have to be the school’s notorious bad boy here with you out of everyone in this town?

  he frowned, not used to girls blatantly ignoring him, but it wasn’t the first time it happened. he tried to search your face for any sign of recognition, but you were too invested in the cat, or rather, his cat to pay him any attention.

(he’s never been jealous of a cat before but he’d never admit that at this moment, he would’ve liked to switch places with nal. what a nice life it must be for a cat to be fed watermelon all day and be coddled with attention and affection from a pretty girl.)

“how’d you know she liked watermelon?” he asked before bending down. your eyes flickered up until you realized how close he was to you, only a few mere inches away from your body. you shrugged, not trusting your voice to speak.

“nal,” he whispered, bending down to your level, whistling to coax her towards him. she meowed, licking the last bit drop of watermelon juice on her paw before pouncing towards jeno, her fluffy tail looping around his beat-up hightops. his usual stoic expression curled up into a boyish grin as he started petting her and murmuring praises of how adorable she was.

   you could hardly believe your own two eyes. lee jeno, everyone’s picture-perfect example of a bad boy who looked like he walked straight out of the  cheesiest teenage rom-com flick was ... a softie for cats?

never in a million years would you have pictured this in your mind.

   you tried to stifle the laughter bubbling in your chest, but jeno looked up to catch your eyes. heat crept up your spine and consumed your face, causing you to look back down at the kitty who was nuzzling against him again.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows.

   you couldn’t help it if your heart decided to do somersaults seeing his innocent expression, resembling that of a confused five-year-old child.

you shook your head before softly asking, “she’s yours?”

   he bit back a grin at finally hearing your voice and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a silver chain collar with a charm (engraved with “nal”), the silver bell attached to it lightly jingling. how ironic yet fitting, you thought.

“i can’t take her home with me because i’m allergic, so i let her roam around here and visit every day until i can find a place for her to stay,” he explains as he scratches her behind the ear, earning a delightful meow before slipping the chain over her head.

   you took a step back, mentally taking a snapshot of this moment. you couldn’t help but giggle lightly once you realized that jeno and nal looked almost exactly alike, as if nal was jeno in cat form, with her black and white fur adorned with a chain collar looking exactly like his usual monochromatic outfit and worn black leather jacket, not to mention the silver chain bracelets and necklace he wore all the time.

jeno’s head snapped up once again to watch you laugh.

his heart thumped a little harder than he would’ve liked to admit.

“bad boys don’t take care of stray cats,” you say, finally locking eyes with jeno. “especially the bad boys who are allergic to cats,” you smile.

   he shrugged, his boyish grin still etched on his handsome face. (screw handsome, you couldn’t lie — you’ve wondered on more than one occasion how blessed his parents must be to have a son whose looks could rival a professional model’s face.)

you couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed now, looking more like a carefree and lovable child rather than a reckless troublemaker.

“don’t judge a book by its cover, sweetheart,” he said before giving you a wink, starkly contrasting with the way he tried to hide how he scratched his reddening nape afterwards.

he gave one last gentle rub to nal’s head before standing up, getting on his motorbike. he looked back, with a glint of something in his eyes. “need a ride, sweetheart? or the cat still got your tongue?”

you froze in your spot, feeling your face turn hot with embarrassment. you weren’t used to this. it was the school’s bad boy after all.

but you could get used to it.

mustering all the courage inside of your shy mighty heart, you look down at nal and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head, letting her nibble on one last piece of watermelon.

“my mother always told me not to judge a book by its cover,” you mused, a hint of playfulness in your voice. “i guess i was wrong about you.”

“i’m y/n,” you added shyly.

jeno’s eyes crinkled into crescents, a genuine smile forming on his face.

“jeno.”

you walked hesitantly up to his bike, and took a seat behind him gingerly.

you let your arms fall to grip the sides of the seat, before jeno shook his head and lifted your hands up to wrap your arms securely around his toned torso. “hold on tight.”

guess your mother was right after all. 

+ bonus blurb!

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 5

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

(Fair warning, this is about to get even darker. We are moving towards a much deeper connection between Chess and Rick; but I find a deep connection needs a backstory. Also; let me know if you want to be added to my tag list. I’m still new at this, but I love knowing that people are actually reading my dribble.)

TW: sexual harassment/assault, torture, sexual themes, violence

I rubbed my neck, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Did you just microchip me, like some animal?”, I asked. “Something like that”, Flag said, and pulled a radio from his belt. “GQ, get the crate”, he spoke into it, and walked towards the door.

Diablo went to get a t-shirt, hanging over a chair, and put it on. “They got us rigged with some dynamite shit”, he said, and started stretching his shoulders. “Big boom”, Digger said, emulating an explosion coming from his neck. “Knocked String Boys head clean of”. “Slipknot”, Diablo corrected him. “Whatever”, was the answer, as Digger went to lay down on a bench, covering his eyes with his arm; apparently preparing to take a nap.

“Welcome to the family”, Diablo said, smirked at me, and went for a set of dumbbells in his corner.

Croc had pulled a slice of what looked like day-old pizza, from his hoodies pocket, and was eating it with a terrifyingly pleased face.

Harley – motherfucking Harley Quinn – was muttering quietly to herself, before lighting up in a big smile, exclaiming: “Ants!”, and skipping away to do whatever it is psychopathic criminal overladies do, when no one is watching.

The door behind me opened, and Edwards, whose acquaintance I’d made the day before, came into the gym. Behind him, the Tweedles were dragging a large box. Edwards and Flag exchanged a few hushed words; and Flag gazed over his shoulder to meet my eyes, before looking back at his subordinate. “… hope they’re ready”, was all I could make out from their conversation; and chills ran down my spine.

They put the box on the floor in front of me. Flag bent to unlock it, and his t-shirt rode up a bit, revealing some bruises and scratches on his lower back and hip. “Get into a fight?”, I smirked. “Just a feral cat”, he answered, smiling over his shoulder. Apparently, I’d gotten in enough punches, to make him feel it even now, quite a while later.

He opened the lid. “Here’s your shit. If you want to change, there’s a bathroom through that door”, he said, nodding towards the door Harley and Digger had come through. “Just be careful; you might get an audience. Which reminds me”. He walked over to where Digger lay; and kicked at the bench, making the peeping tom fall of it. “Hey jackass! Stop being creepy, and let people shit in peace”. Digger scrambled onto his legs, and made a mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”, he boomed, and laid back down, muttering curses under his breath.

“Ladies don’t shit, colonel. We powder our noses”, Harleys voice came from somewhere. Looking up, I saw that she was hanging upside down from a rope, one leg intertwined with it. Twirling her ponytails, she winked at me, before blowing a large bubble with the pink gum in her mouth.

Croc had pulled out a second slice from his pocket, and was chewing away. His enjoyment of the snack was almost obscene. He nodded towards the box in front of me. “What you got in there?”, he asked. I rifled through the things, recognizing some of my own belongings. It was now I realized that none of the crew were wearing all prison garb. Diablo had a bluish varsity jacket hanging from a chair, and Deadshots sneakers were definitely not prison grade; I could tell from the high-end label on the side.

The other three were also wearing some sort of personal addition to the orange pants and tank top, provided by Belle Reve. For Croc, it was his brown velvet hoodie; and Digger had on a coat that looked like it desperately needed a washing. Harley had on a pair of striped pink and blue shorts, held up by suspenders. The shorts barely covered her ass, and showed of the many tattoos on her legs.

Taking my favorite band t-shirt out of the box, I noticed it still had some cat hair stuck to it, from my beloved babies at home. Selina, I’m trusting you to take good care of them, I thought. I put the shirt on the floor beside me, and continued to go through the box. A polaroid of me on stage, my first night at Sammy’s; my copy of Alice In Wonderland; a pair of hot pink socks, I’d knitted myself; an oversized greyish flannel shirt, I’d stolen from an ex; some makeup and black nail polish, in a black purse; and a pair of broken, furry handcuffs – Ahh, Vegas, I smiled. Finally, I pulled out a small stuffed bunny, I’d won at a travelling fair, a few weeks before I’d been taken by Hatter. I stroked its tiny face, and discretely kissed its head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Digger looking at me, sending me a friendly smirk and nod. I smiled back.

I kept searching through the box. “Looking for something?”, Flag said from behind me. “Where are my smokes?”, I sighed. “There were no cigarettes in the box when it arrived”, Flag answered me. He’d already gone through it.

A large scaly hand offered me a pack of Marlboro Lights, and looking up at Croc with a thankful smile; I took one of the cigarettes, and popped it in my mouth. “Anyone have a light?”. Diablos hand appeared in front of my face; pinky stretched. A tiny flame burned from it, taking me by surprise; and I half laughed, half guffawed, as I lit the cigarette.

“I knew you could do that!”, Harleys shrill voice sounded. Her head appeared next to mine, and she rested her chin on my shoulder. She smelled like bubblegum and cotton candy, and for a hot second I was tempted to turn my head and lick her face.

“Who the hell gave Croc access to cigarettes?”, Flag muttered to Deadshot. “You know how he gets when he runs out, and goes cold turkey!”. “You’re telling me, man. There’s still a hole in the wall between his and my cell, from when he ran his fist through it”, Deadshot smirked.

“Ooh! What’s that?”, Harley asked, and reached in to the box, revealing a false bottom. I removed the thin board of metal.

There you are!

Surrounded by the whole crew – a curious Digger having joined us – I picked up a black, cropped and hooded faux leather jacket. The pleather was undamaged still, and putting it on, I pulled up the hood, and closed the zipper. With the help of the hood and the large collar, my face disappeared into shadows. Flag looked at me, lifting his chin; staring me down. His gaze made me slightly uncomfortable – or was it stirred? – and I took off the jacket again.

A loose purple, off the shoulder crop top; and a pair of black, high waist, lycra and mesh leggings completed the outfit. Finding my favorite combat boots in the box, I only needed one thing.

I moved around rope, a crowbar, some lockpicks, and a hammer and chisel. There they were. My claws.

“Cute mittens”, Harley giggled, and grabbed for the black fingerless gloves. “Careful!”, I gasped, and quickly grasped them. Harley pouted. “What? You don’t like sharing your toys?”.

I put on the gloves, made a fist; and from my knuckles sprang 4 curved knives. Edwards and the twins quickly raised their guns at me, prepared to shot, if I tried anything. I rolled my eyes, and noticed Flag trying to hide a smile.

Picking up an old sock, I demonstrated the blades sharpness, by cutting through it. The knives went through the fabric like butter; and Harleys eyes widened. “Oh”, was all she said, after which she took a step back; and went to stand behind Deadshot. “Lady, you got some sharp nails there”, he said, and chuckled.

“You still know how to use them?”, Flag asked, not removing his eyes from the blades on my hands. I just smirked.

I went to stand by the wall. I could feel eyes on my back from my audience. I bent my knees; and then leaped. I grasped the wall with the claws, and started climbing upwards. At the top of the wall was a row of tiny windows. “Don’t do it, Y/N!”, Flag called, as I heard the soldiers cock their guns. I looked over my shoulder, winked at him; and smiled.

I quickly moved laterally on the wall. Gunshots sounded, and the wall beside me suddenly was full of holes. “Hold your fire! Hold your goddamn fire!”, Flag yelled desperately. The gunfire stopped, and I made myself reappear; hanging by my claws from the basketball hoop on the opposite wall. One of the Tweedles cocked his gun again; and everything after that happened in slow motion.

The soldier took aim at me; looking pissed. From out of nowhere, Flag jumped at him; knocking him to the ground. The gun went off; bullet narrowly missing my head – and I fell.

---

I landed on my back; the wind knocked out of me. I closed my eyes, and heard people running towards me. I felt a strong arm under my back, and a hand behind my head. “Y/N”, Flags shaking voice called out. “Come on kitten, wake up”, he whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my neck.

I opened my eyes, seeing his face inches from mine, mouth slightly opened to speak again. I suddenly noticed there were specks of green in his brown eyes.

I blinked once. “Are you gonna kiss me now?”, I asked, and smiled crookedly.

Flag let go of me, and pulled back, lips now in a thin line. He stood up, and stormed towards the shooting twin. He grabbed his collar; and slammed him against the wall. “What the fuck is your problem? Do you not know how to follow an order?”. The soldier put his hands up. “Sir, she was going awol!”. “She is an asset. Wallers asset!”. Flag punched Tweedle in the gut; making him double over. “Get this asshole out of here”, he called to Edwards and the other twin; who dragged the panting soldier out of the room, Flag following them to the door, still cursing.

Deadshot crouched in front of me, holding his hand in front of my face, a couple of fingers raised. “How many fingers am I holding up?”, he asked. “What are fingers?”, I joked; making him chuckle again.

He helped me onto my feet. “You are a hard one to kill, Chess”. “Nah”, I answered. “I can die plenty. I think my secret is, I just really don’t want to”, I said, and stretched my arms into the air, feeling my bones pop.

“Why didn’t you run? You could have made it through the window”, Diablo asked from behind Deadshot. “I wouldn’t have made it half a mile. I’m spent”, I answered. “I need energy to smile, and they’ve had me living on cat food for a month. Only just had a real meal yesterday”. “Que cabrón”, Diablo spat.

Politely refusing one of Crocs pocket-pizza slices; I went back to my box of belongings. Kneeling beside it, I quickly changed into the band t-shirt. It had been a snug fit once; but my kibble-diet had made it quite a bit looser.

Flag crouched next to me. “You good?”. He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes on the ground. “That wasn’t supposed to happen”. I scoffed. “I’m fine. Just a few more bruises to add to the collection”. Flag exhaled. “You can keep the civilian clothes, and three items from the top layer of the box. Your combat equipment will be stored for you, until you need it”. He stood back up. “The rest will be destroyed”.

I scowled at him, and stood up, putting my hands on my hips; swaying back and forth a bit, deciding; then bent over, and started gathering the things I’d chosen. I felt his eyes on me. “Checking out the asset?”, I teased.

“Could you just for a second stop that shit? Stop flirting, and start being serious about the situation you are in!”, he growled at me. “Why? Am I getting in to your head?”, I twirled around, and pouted at him innocently.

He shook his head, and furrowed his brow, scoffing at me. “Just quit it, and do the job we brought you here to do”.

I stepped up to him, and looked him square in the face. “I’ll quit it, when you quit that good soldier bullshit”, I spat. “You had no right to go after me, and no right to keep me here”.

“I have every right”, he said calmly, staring down his nose at me. “You’re a scumbag. A criminal. The world would be better if you just disappeared”. “Oh?”, I asked; not breaking eye contact. “Tell me, what’s the difference between me and the Bat? That asshole is beating up people left and right; no badge, no warrant… He decides who he thinks is a bad guy, and drags them to the front step of Arkham, or airdrops them in to this shithole”.

I stomped away to grab the sack that had been over my head earlier. I stuffed the book, the makeup-purse, and finally the rabbit into it. I saw Deadshot and the others huddled in a corner; obviously trying to give me some space; and pretending not to be staring at the scene.

Flag stormed after me, grabbed my arm, and spun me around; holding me in place, as I struggled. “You are nothing like him. He brings down criminals. You kidnap judges, and torture them”. His face was inches from mine. “He has never stolen money from anyone”. “Maybe that’s because he is already the richest man in the goddamn country!”, I hissed at him. I looked at the squad in the corner. They didn’t seem to have heard.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”, Flag asked, and let go of my arm. I rubbed the spot he’d been holding on to. “Never mind”, I quietly answered, not wanting to get into it. The papers I’d seen in Lucius Fox’ safe, had made me put two and two together; but as I’d told Deadshot before, I really didn’t want to die – so mr. holier-than-thou Waynes secret, was safe with me. That was one wasps nest I was not putting my hand into.

Flags face had softened. “What happened with judge Kelper?”. “Your read the file”, I answered, not looking at him. “I kicked his ass”. “Before that”, he demanded. “What made you do it? If you’re not a bad guy, you must have had a reason”. I closed the box, and sat down on it. “Truth?”, I asked. He nodded.

“Kelper would show up at the club sometimes – slumming it. I knew who he was, because he was the judge at an arraignment, where I was charged with pickpocketing for the Hatter”. I folded my hands in my lap. “Someone caught you pickpocketing?”, he smirked, a slight warmth returning to his eyes. “Tetch hadn’t fed me in a couple of days. When my bloodsugar is low, and my energy is down, it’s difficult to keep up the mirage”, I admitted. “Anyway, Kelper would bring in whoever he was paying off, to further his political career, and wave money around; getting the performers to join them at their table. I was stupid enough to take some of it myself”. I winced; remembering how I’d sat on his lap, and played the part of willing participant in his little erotic adventure. Flag looked down. “I never let it go any further than a lapdance”, I said, actually worried he’d think even less of me than he already did.

“So, then what?”, he asked. I bit my lip. “Did you know he’s married? He’s got a beautiful trophy wife, and two teenage daughters, almost out of high school. Cheerleaders, blonde. Ditsy as fuck, but on their way to bright futures, due to daddys money, and mommys good looks”. “But?...”, he probed.

I sighed. “There was a girl at the club, Sarah, just turned 18; poor family, desperately trying to scrape up some money for college. One night, he invited her to join him and his friends in their limo. He said he’d give her a ride home, and maybe a recommendation for college”. Flags eyes turned cold again. I continued. “He kept calling her Stephanie, even when she tried to correct him”. I looked up at him. He was looking more and more aggravated. “She didn’t show up for work the next day, so I went to her place”. I ground my teeth together, before continuing. “Her mom told me she was in the hospital. When Sarah had refused to put out willingly, Kelper had held her down... When he was finished with her, he’d let his friends have the leftovers”.

I looked at my feet. “His youngest daughters name is Stephanie”.

I was jolted, when Flag kicked the box I was sitting on; clenching his fist, and cursing quietly. “Sorry”, he said, looking at me. I was unsure what the apology was for; the kick, or my story.

I stood up. “So, now you know. I beat that shitheads face into a pulp, clawed his skin; and made sure he’d never be able to do that to another person again”. Flag stayed quiet.

I picked up my sack of belongings, and went to face him again. “And just for the record, that last 13.000 dollars… Sarahs mom couldn’t afford the hospital bill, and became behind on the payments. They almost got kicked out of their apartment the week before I raided that safe”.

We stood there for a little while, staring each other down.

“I’m sorry that happened”, Flag said. He sighed. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the situation you’re in. You’re going to have to be a part of this team, if you want to ever get your life back”. He was almost apologetic. “I know”, I admitted. “And for the record; I am a bad guy”, I said. “A really good bad guy”. Flag smirked at me, and moved to the middle of the room. Apparently, our conversation was over.

---

“Alright people! Unfortunately, we won’t have a lot of time to get acquainted with our newest team member”, he called, grabbing the attention of the rest of the squad. “We have a new mission”. “That was fast”, Deadshot said. “Sorry, Floyd. You’re going to have to take a rest from the ball, and reacquaint yourself with your guns”, Flag answered.

“So. Here’s the brief…”.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

[hushnow-hun]

Are You Kitten Me?

For shinkamiweek2020. Day 4: College

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25302205

---

“Kaminari, you’ll never guess what,” Shinsou said, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Kaminari was laying on the bed on his front, phone in hand. He peered at Shinsou curiously over his shoulder. “What?”

Careful not to jostle his backpack too much, Shinsou sat on his bed across from his roommate, who was still looking at him expectantly. He unzipped the bag and a pair of round, yellow eyes blinked up at him. “Hey there, girl,” he whispered, gingerly lifting the cat out and putting her on his bed.

“What?” Shinsou looked up to see a gleeful look slowly spreading on Kaminari’s face. “You did not,” he breathed out, sitting up and leaning closer.

A corner of Shinsou’s mouth quirked up. “I did.”

“Oh my god. You brought a cat to our dorm.” He stared at the cat, who for the most part had gotten over Kaminari and was now craning her neck this way and that, surveying their room.

Shinsou extended a finger and she sniffed it briefly, before hopping off the bed. “It’s fine,” he said absently. “It’s not like anyone was there when I came in. Nobody saw my mysteriously wriggling backpack.” Shinsou had speedwalked all the way to their dorm room nonetheless, not too keen on taking chances.

“Can I pet her?” Kaminari asked suddenly.

Shinsou gestured offhandedly. “Go for it. She’s pretty friendly. She didn’t even try to scratch me when I found her.”

Kaminari scooped the cat off the floor and into his arms, cooing softly. Almost instantly, she melted into it, purring when he rubbed a finger on her head. “Found her where?”

“On the way back to campus,” Shinsou answered vaguely. He had spotted the cat sitting by a lamppost when he stepped out the convenience store nearby, blinking back at him. When she butted her head against his knee after he crouched down to pet her, that was it. There was just no way he was gonna leave her there.

“She’s surprisingly well kept for a stray,” Kaminari mused, running a hand over her black fur.

Shinsou hummed, dropping his bag to the floor next to his bed. “Maybe she just got lost recently.”

“You didn’t steal someone’s pet, did you?” Kaminari asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“She doesn’t have a collar,” Shinsou said defensively. Hang on. Don’t tell him the cat could’ve belonged to the nice old man who owned the convenience store. Oh, it’d be even worse if he actually saw Shinsou taking his cat.

The cat meowed loudly, effectively cutting off his train of thought. She squirmed out of Kaminari’s hold and started pacing around the room.

“Do you think she’s hungry?” Kaminari asked.

“Er.” Shinsou blinked. “Must be. You got any cat food on you by any chance?”

Kaminari gave him a weird look. “Dude, did you think this through at all?”

Well. That’s fair. Shinsou wouldn’t call himself an impulsive person, but apparently all that rationale goes out the window when faced with a pair of whiskers. He shrugged at Kaminari.

The cat let out a loud meow again, walking in a circle. Maybe they could give her one of Kaminari’s granola bars for now. She’d like that, right?

Before he could offer the suggestion, there was a knock on the door. Shinsou exchanged wide-eyed looks with Kaminari.

After a beat, Shinsou dove to grab the cat, but she yelped and skittered under the bed, narrowly escaping Kaminari’s hands as well.

The knock came again. “Kaminari? Is everything alright in there?” Iida.

“Everything’s fine!” Kaminari said. He kept shooting panicked glances at the door while moving up to give Shinsou space as he got on all fours and peered under the bed. The cat blended well in the dark space, but Shinsou could still see the wary glint in her eyes as she crouched in the corner.

Iida’s voice came again. “I thought I heard a cat in there.”

“No you didn’t,” Kaminari said, voice comically pitched. Shinsou almost threw a lamp at him. Instead, he settled for gesturing wildly at him to answer the door. Kaminari gestured something back, making faces at him. Shinsou crossed his arms and Kaminari groaned silently, muttering something under his breath before going to the door.

“Iida!” he greeted. The door was open just wide enough for him to pop his head out. From where he’s down next to the bed, Shinsou ran no risk of being seen. He ducked his head down to look at the cat again, if only to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t suddenly dash towards the door. He can’t get her out from under the bed without a guarantee that Iida won’t hear.

“Don’t worry about it. That was just me,” Kaminari said, gripping the door’s edge with the hand above his head. Most likely to keep blocking the view of their room.

Iida sounded skeptical. “That was you meowing?”

“Yup!” Kaminari gave a nervous laugh.

“Why?”

This seemed to catch Kaminari off guard. “I mean, you know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s like, nya.” He pawed the air.

Shinsou had to muffle his snicker.

“Oh, well, alright then.” Iida sounded like he didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Leave him be, Iida.” Was that Sero? How many people were out there? “Kaminari probably just likes that kind of thing.”

Kaminari nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yeah! Thanks, Sero— wait.” Shinsou couldn’t see his face, but he was willing to bet Kaminari was narrowing his eyes at his black-haired friend. “What do you mean by that?”

Sero snickered. “Is Shinsou in there with you?”

“What?” Kaminari’s voice had gone a pitch up again. “No, he’s not— hey!” He was now trying to shut the door, using both his hand and knee. “Stop it! He’s not here! He went out to buy some stuff a while ago.”

Sero laughed, giving up on trying to barge his way in. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Sero!” Iida chided. “If I’m thinking what you’re thinking, and what you’re thinking is correct, then we shouldn’t interrogate Kaminari like this! It’s plain rude.”

“You know what? I’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari shut the door with finality.

Shinsou had moved back to his bed after feeling the strong urge to sit down. He watched Kaminari drop on the bed across from him, the tips of his ears red. The silence stretched between them. “Well,” he said eventually, clearing his throat. “That took a turn for the worse.”

Shinsou bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” he said, huffing. He finally looked over at Shinsou and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You don’t have to deal with him on a daily basis.”

Shinsou swatted the hand away. Keeping his tone light, he said, “So you’re saying he does that on a daily basis?”

“I—“ Kaminari caught the look on his face and chucked a pillow at him. “Anyways!” he said, clapping his hand loudly. “So that was reason number one on why we can’t possibly keep her.”

Right on cue, the cat crept out from under the bed, peering up at them. Shinsou sighed, leaning back on his hands. “I know, but I figured we could keep her here until someone claims her.”

“Still a bad idea,” kaminari said in a sing-song voice.

“It’s an idea.” Shinsou picked up the cat and placed her back on his bed.

“Well, what if no one claims her?”

Shinsou thought this over. “I could always bring her to my dad. There’s no way he’d refuse.” Aizawa’s brought home his fair share of felines after all. Hizashi should be pretty used to it by now too.

Kaminari hummed, settling on his back. “We should probably give her a name,” he said after a while. “If she’s gonna be staying here for a bit, I can’t just keep calling her ‘Cat’.”

“It’s not the worse name.” At kaminari’s raised eyebrow, Shinsou added, “It’s definitely accurate. We won’t be mistaking her for something else.” Kaminari gave a snort at that, and Shinsou continued petting the cat. “Anything in mind?”

“How ‘bout Muffin?”

“Muffin?” Shinsou said incredulously. The cat glanced at Kaminari briefly, before going back to inspecting the bed sheet.

“Hmm, Belle?”

“Can’t we pick a name that would actually suit her?”

“Yeah?” Kaminari propped himself up on his elbow, a lazy grin on his face. “What would you name her then? Ebony? Eclipse? Moon Shadow?”

“Oh, fuck off—"

[pixieungerstories]

Captive - 9

Hi Readers - I hate to be like this, but if you love this story, please go here to subscribe.  I’m not intentionally neglecting the free content, it’s just getting overlooked right now.  My next book deadline in Nov15 (2020).  Normally, it’s just me writing for me and you get the benefit from that.  This time Podium Audiobooks has me under contract for second book in the Mistaken Universe.

Also - if you have the time - the occasional gentle reminder is appreciated.  Today’s post is brought to you by @dizzy-poncho who sent me some love and made my brain realized I hadn’t posted in a while.

The sound of someone pounding on the door was less than an ideal way to be awoken. As was the kitten, who had up to that point had been curled up behind her knees, screeching and bolting. Elly glanced at her watch, she had managed maybe four hours of sleep. The person on the other side of the door pounded again. Groaning, Ellly got to her feet, stomped over to the shop door and wrenched it open. 

“What?!” 

The church ladies were clearly taken aback by her tone. They stared at her in stunned horror. 

“The sign says we’re closed for the day.” Elly announced.

“I just need-” Posy started to say, but Elly interrupted.

“You need to come back tomorrow.”

Posy narrowed her eyes, “I could just as easily order my yarn off the internet instead, you know!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Elly replied sadly.  “Good day then.” She then closed the door on the women’s shocked faces. She leaned against the door for a minute and groaned before rallying the strength to head upstairs. On her way she nearly tripped over the reappeared kitten. 

“Jesus, cat! Learn some self preservation!” Elly scolded as she scooped up the tiny thing. The kitten clamored up her arm to her shoulder and settled in for the trek upstairs. Elly tried to remember where she had stored Mitten’s cat stuff. In all likelihood she probably gave it away when she figured her cat had been eaten...Well she’d need to take the kitten for vaccinations anyways. She could pick up whatever she needed then. First thing on the list, a bell collar.  

Well, that could be second. The first thing she needed was a name. Elly wondered for a moment if George would want any say in that. The thought could wait. First she needed a nap, or possibly a whole lot of coffee. Likely both. 

Ben was just staggering out of the spare room when Elly got back to her apartment.  “Shit, boss, I am late getting started this morning.”

Elly sighed, “We are closed today.  How are you feeling?”

Ben shrugged, then rubbed his bleary eyes, “Slightly hung over, possible still a little drunk, and baffled that you have a dragon living in your basement.”  He looked at her face and frowned, “Did you sleep last night?”

Elly shook her head again, “Not really.  I napped.”

Ben winced, “Was that my fault?”

Elly shook her head again, “I was up too late and started getting creeped out by the sounds of the house settling.”  Ben really did look awful.  “Right!” she announced, making him wince again.  “Big glass of water, a couple of aspirin and back to bed.”

Bean groaned, “I would roll my eyes at you except that they feel like they might fall out of my head if I tried.”

Elly snickered under her breath and went to the kitchen for a glass.

“So tell me about George.”

She froze.  This was awkward.  “I think you should ask him about him.  Carefully. I don’t want to offend the dragon in my basement and neither do you.”  She filled the glass with water and handed it to him.  As Ben drank the water she pulled the aspirin out of the spice drawer.

“Does he breath fire?” he asked, lightly, trying to make a joke.

Elly pursed her lips as she considered that.  “More like belches fire, but he can adjust his body temperature to heat the building.”

“You are fucking kidding me!”  His eyes went wide as Elly shook her head.  “Holy shit.”  It was said reverentially, whispered almost like a prayer.  Ben took two steps to the left and sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.

Elly gave him a sympathetic look.  “I am honestly unsure if this conversation would be better once you are sober.  It could turn out to be worse.”  She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Are you planning on quitting?”

“Why would I quit?” Ben asked with a frown.

Elly frowned right back at him.�� “Because there is a dragon in the basement.  And if you tell anyone, they will just think you’re delusional.”

Ben considered this.  “You won’t.  Think I’m insane, I mean.”

“I’m not really the best judge of sane, Ben.” She sounded sad when she said it.  

There was a long moment of tension before the kitten stropped up against Ben’s leg, causing him to curse and stand up fast enough to knock over his chair.  It hit the ground with a clatter and the kitten bolted.

“Was that Muffin?” he mumbled, looking sheepish as he picked up the chair.

Elly frowned, “You mean Mittens?  No.  George brought it home last night.”

“Like a present?  That’s sweet.”  After a moment, Ben added “And a little weird. Where did George get a kitten?”

“He said someone killed its mom and littermates.  He was vague on the details and I didn’t push.  He would have told me if he wanted me to know.”

Ben shivered, “Yeah.  I was picking up my spice delivery at the post office last week and overheard the Debbie from the pound saying it was less killing cats and more a plaque of cat mutilations.”

Elly went very still.  When Ben finally looked up and met her eyes, she whispered, “Are we talking disemboweling here?”

Ben blinked and stared at her in horror before nodding.  “How did you know that?”

Elly spun on her heels and fussed at the sink, giving it a wipe before putting the kettle on the hob.  “George was unusually circumspect about what had happened. I couldn’t figure out why, he isn’t usually shy.”

Ben snorted, “I can see that about him.”  He watched her face, it was easy to see the wheels turning, but he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.  “If someone is hunting cats, it might be safer to take … um. . . her?  Or him?  Whatever, take the kitten to a vet a couple of towns over.  If you are keeping it, I mean.”

Elly gave him a puzzled look, “Of course I’m keeping it.”

Ben fought a smirk, “You sure?  Have you named it yet?” 

Elly considered this.  “Nyx, goddess of night.”

Ben snicked, “Really?  What if its a boy?”

Elly rolled her eyes, “Ben, I’m not going to enforce gender roles on a kitten.”

Ben just shook his head.  “Fine, but when we go to the vet, you get to drive.”

----

The vet proclaimed Nyx to seem perfectly healthy and old enough for vaccination and FIV testing.    They booked her in for a spay in two weeks.  Next stop was the pet store.

Ben picked out an adjustable purple collar and neoprene cat harness.  Elly gave him a look.  “What?  You can harness train cats it you get them young enough.  I follow Suki Cat on instagram!”

Elly blinked, “Huh.  I never would have picked you for a cat person.”

He smirked, “Stupid cat videos is what the internet is for.”

“Really?  Because I suspect most people would say porn,” Elly teased, then was surprised when he blushed.  She managed to fight the urge to comment on that, and while she was wrestling with her morals, Ben left to go look at cat carriers.  Nyx meowed and tightened her tiny claws into Elly’s shoulder where she was sitting.  

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out.  “That was rude.”

Ben just waved her away.  “More unexpected. I haven’t seen that side of you. You are very, um, professional.”  He didn’t make it sound like a compliment.  When he realized she was frowning slightly, Ben flashed her a smile.  “You are a great boss, Elly.”

Elly coughed, “I’m not actually your boss, you know.”

Ben blushed again.  That was new.  “Any preference on cat food?”

Realizing he was trying to change the subject, Elly turned to face with wall of food.  “Wet food for cats.  I’ve never had one do well on kibble.”

“Did, um, your other cats sit on your shoulder like that?”

“Nope, this is a first, but she seems to like it up there.”

They watched each other awkwardly for a moment.  Elly broke first.  “Ben?  Are you OK?”

Ben quickly turned his head to the right and scoped out the litter boxes.  “Ina wasn’t that fun to work with,” he admitted.  “Most of the time you are.  Weird, but fun.  I’m starting to understand where the weird comes from.  And now I know that too.  How do you go through your day knowing something like that?”

Elly sighed.  “Ben -  Look, tell me about yeast.”

“What?”

Elly rubbed her eyes, making Nyx meow and dig her little claws into Elly’s sweater.  “You told me that yeast for bread used to come from beer, then the beer yeast changed and there was a shortage, right?”

Ben frowned, “Yeah, brewers switched from top fermenting to bottom fermenting and that process didn’t make the byproduct that bakers use.  But what does that have to do with George?”

“How many people do you think know that?”

“Elly!  It doesn’t matter!  People knowing or not knowing about yeast doesn’t actually matter!”

Elly just raised an eyebrow, “How does knowing about George matter?  Yeast is way more practical on a day to day basis.”  Ben stared at her like she was insane.  Elly kept talking, “Most people, including me, would consider baking bread or spinning wool or knitting a weird and slightly esoteric hobby.  George is just one more weird bit of trivia that you now know.”

[oh-theres-a-woman]

Flowers in a Peaked Cap; Part One

A/N: Heres to attempt two at writing this author’s note… Let’s just say, I haven’t perfected the art of saving drafts. Note to self to actually find out how to make the draft before losing three solid paragraphs of rambling about the story… Sophie Points; Nil. Laptop/Internet Points; One. Welp, honestly internet and laptop have won a hell of a lot more than that. Just don’t remember how many times I’ve lost work because of not quite understanding how to post on here…. Safe to say I’m still a noob. 

Any hoot! Enough rambling about that stuff. 

After posting the first piece to this story; in the very very early hours of this morning. I couldn’t help but feel the massive urge to continue and work on the more of Tillie’s little adventure. It made me want to think about her as a person outside the relatives that we already know. What this girl’s goals are and ambitions. Unlike the rest of her family, I think she has a relatable amount of vulnerability and anxieties that are more from society’s working in the 1920s compared to her brothers; Arthur, Thomas and John that all suffer war-related mental illness and scars.   

Actively she’s a romantic escapist that wants to make her brothers and aunt proud. Making a name for herself in the means of writing and exploring the tales that are brewed from the memories of old days. 

In the progression of this story, I want to be able to explore the growth in Tillie as a young woman. The stepping out of her brothers’ shadows and coming into her own. Growing into a more confident young woman that could be from meeting new people like in this chapter and moving away from her fears. 

I do see romance in this story, something like and full of all the trend first experience one faces at one stage or another. In terms of smut, I’d think it’s lighter and would be something that is worked towards. Tillie to me doesn’t seem rather lust-driven. So, it’ll happen if it does, and if not; its simply because Tillie Shelby isn’t interested in that sort of thing. 

Important note; I’ll be working on organising the Taglist a little more throughout my next few posts. Please notify me if you’re interested in anything specifically and want tags there or if you mind just being on the general tag list and included in every story I post. Thank you!!!  

Requested By; @csigeoblue​

Parts; [ Prologue ] 

Taglist; @zodiyack​, @itsfrancisneptun​, @amys-small-world​, @fandom-fucking-shit​, @hesagod-notyet​, @hinagiku0​, @dylanlover24​, @amirahiddleston​, @a-dorky-book-keeper​, @theamuz​, @csigeoblue​, @smallheathgangsters​, @beautycinders 

Word Count; 1400

Watery Lane wasn’t the play that supported the wild fantasy’s of Tillie Shelby, but the little bookshop that was filled with many hopefuls or lads that were born a little more well off collectively grouped together. Reading the stories they wrote. This gathering was apparently one that caught the attention of the paper since the known publishers and well-off lads from another book club around England had found themselves doing a sort of travel for their source material. 

Since the profile of this club of prolific writers had taken interest in the area of Small Heath and its inhabitants. Inviting upstart writers or aspiring tellers to come and meet them. So, onward the youngest Shelby strolled until she pulled open the door of the quaint little bookshop. The signal of her arrival was the sound of her kitten heels and the ringing of the bell on the door. Doe-like blue eyes that were like the crystal-clarity of the purest of water found themselves settling on a group of well-dressed gentlemen.  Her eyes flicker between some faces she knew of Small Heath, most of them being the arseholes she went to school with and thought themselves privy to a better life. 

It wasn’t that Tillie didn’t believe they weren’t welcome to it. Mostly, it was the way they treated people in order to get there the young woman didn’t quite agree with. She was rather foolish coming to her though since her brother’s had a very vision about how the Shelby family should be seen. Their measures to getting things done with it were also less than admirable. Perhaps, it was the fact that Billy Bronson, James Fitz and Joe Gilbert made hers and Finn’s school life a living hell one way or another. But, it also made it seem extremely unfair to talk to their older brothers about what happened. Since most knew better than to fuck with the kin of the Peaky Blinders. 

Plooms of cigarette smoke clouded in the air, filling the bookstore with a spiced herbal infusion and rippled tailored sticks of tobacco. Moving her gaze from the lads she knew; to the new arrivals. The youngest of the Shelby mob offered a little smile. “Is there room for one more?” Tillie finally spoke up, pulling her book that contained the novel she had poured hours and hours over. Smiling hopefully. Arms hugging the expensive leather made book that her brothers banded together in the hopes for a lovely birthday present in the days before the war. 

Hoping that she’d fill in with various things she enjoyed to draw, but instead, Tillie hadn’t touched it until she was old enough to respect things. Asking Aunt Pol to help her keep in a safe place until then. Scraps of paper were best for sketches in any case. 

Eyes ever hopeful looked at the posher sort, some seemed wary until a certain collared lad smiled and offered a little nod then the place he’d been sitting. Away from the boys that seemed to make life a little more bothersome. “Thank you,” she whispered, settling down in the seat. Resting the book down on her lap before looking to the other lads who straightened their composure.

“We were all about to introduce ourselves since we’ve never travelled outside of London for such a meeting before. Yet, it seemed like a brilliant idea when bought up. Birmingham seemed like the best place, so raw and thrilling. Small Heath alone.” Spoke finally a lad in a handsome waist-coat, the colouring of coal, stiff collar and matching suit made her think of it being something her brother; Tom would wear. Only on the best occasions, or when he was dressing-to-impress. Unlike Thomas, this lad had handsome hazel eyes, the slightest tan to his skin like he enjoyed the frolicking on the beach. His name was Walter, but everyone called him, Walt. 

“Even the presence of criminal activity and organisations like the Peaky Blinders, it does make the area a prize for writing. Wouldn’t you agree, lads,” spoke up for eccentric Norman, who took delight in the thing that only made Tillie smile in a measure of great awkwardness. The name seemed to follow her everywhere she went, and there was a measure of awkwardness for that.  “Sorry, miss, I didn’t quite mean to be so rude, it’s just you don’t seem the sort to know much on that end, too kind and pretty, huh?” Norm covered himself for any form of rudeness that could have been interpreted. 

Only causing a polite little lowering of her head, as her hands wrapped anxiously around her book’s spine. Before relaxing at the conversation drifting off elsewhere. Sobering to the notion that the following cough from Joe Gilbert had goosebumps appearing on her arms. Causing a vast amount of discomfort in the young woman. Tillie traded glances with the nicer of the Londoner’s; Robert. Whom quickly coughed to get things back on track. 

“In any case, back to the introductions. We shouldn’t dwell too long on the story topics if we’ve lacked the proper course of introduction. Shall I start?” Robert spoke up, settled against set up for the purpose of meetings. “My name is Robert Augustine, myself and these other gentlemen,” he said, gesturing to the others in the group of London lads. 

“Are from a collective of young men that wish to write and publish arts. Never before have we had a lady join us, but surely in this modern world we’d be able to welcome the bright minds of femininity amongst us. After all, lady authors are blooming into the publishing world more and more with each generation.” His words seemed to still the anxiousness within her soul at the agreement of his other companions. Looking forward to seeing a hand extended to her, Robert allowed her to stand. The mix of coarseness and softness met between the two palms meet. 

Holding her book, Tillie looked down smiling a little at her feet. Hugging her book to her chest, like it was the most precious thing to her. That was… Because it truly was the thing that held so much value to her heart. Her right hand still gently in the hold of the Londoner, cheeks lightly warming. “I’m Tillie Shelby, and I like to write about my brothers, their stories before the war. When we were kids,” she lit up sweetly talking of her brothers. Her hand and Robert’s naturally finding it parting, before he settled in his spot by the desk. Arms folding at his chest with a little smile. 

“Would you be willing to share any of those stories?” Robert asked in a light voice. Tillie could only think of one response. 

“Would I ever,” she beamed with a presence that seemed to warm the room and the quiet little shop around them. Settling down into her seat once more, she didn’t think about when the others were introducing themselves. Instead, she found herself lost within stories. The more whimsical tales of lads that laughed and partied. Or the ones that filled with a warmth that made her think of the family that suppressed or lost who they were before the war. Among them, none had known those woes and horrors. 

They’d seen things happen on the outside. Felt the absence of a brother, father, uncle or grandfather that either died or lost what kept to their memory that their younger-selves recalled. Tillie was young then. Merely a baby in some regard. But she couldn’t ever forget the days of laughter, wherein night terrors; her heroes would just come up and curl into the undersized cot she called a bed. Soothing their fingers along with the softness of infant or child hairs–that had yet to understand dryness or damage. 

When business didn’t entirely rule the Shelby family but happened in the background. Those were her tales. The tales of rawness and loss from a different scene. Where her brothers; the men who took over the role of an absent father, became; fathers, uncles, older brothers and best friends. And… Pol became the only mother she ever knew and remembered. Her voice spoke of the volumes to family values and how terrible things broke people. Yet, she never uttered their names aloud. 

Only recording them within her mind when she read the tales that meant something to one of her brothers. Art. Tom. John.

[emospritelet]

Desperation - chapter 13

22: “I just don’t know what to do”

Apparently all I can write at the moment are short fluffy chapters *shrug emoji*

[AO3]

x

Gold seemed to improve markedly over the next few days, although he still coughed at times and seemed to tire in the evenings. Belle soon got used to meeting him each morning in the kitchen, where he would have a pot of tea brewing as he kneaded dough or mixed pancake batter. He had offered to trade places with her and give her his bed, but she refused; the couch was very comfortable, and she didn’t feel right making him sleep there when he was used to his own bed.

Now that he was feeling better, Gold never seemed to be still for long. He was always cooking or cleaning, moving quickly around the small house to keep it clean and neat and free of clutter. Belle helped, folding laundry and offering to wash dishes after dinner while he mopped the floor.

“You guys make a good team,” said Bae, from the table, eating a banana. Gold eyed him.

“Having Belle here doesn’t mean you get out of chores, you know,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Belle hastily. “I’d rather keep busy.”

“I just meant having Belle here is a good thing,” said Bae. “I couldn’t have looked after you when you were sick. Not like she could. I can’t work the stove, so I couldn’t bake you carrot cake like she can.”

“You helped with that,” Belle reminded him. “I couldn’t have done it without you. We’re like a sugar-loaded tag-team.”

Bae giggled, and Gold sent Belle a grin, his eyes twinkling.

“I just meant I can’t take care of you on my own, Papa,” Bae went on. “I just don’t know what to do. Don’t get sick again until I’m maybe - twelve - or something.”

Gold chuckled, working the mop in between the chair legs.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Or tell Belle she can stay with us,” added Bae, and Gold’s eyes flicked across at Belle.

“I’m sure Belle’s looking forward to getting back to her own place and having a bit of peace,” he remarked.

“But I want her to meet the kittens!” said Bae. “How will they get to know her if she doesn’t come over?”

“Oh, of course I’ll come over!” Belle assured him. “Have you chosen names for the kittens yet?”

Bae wrinkled his nose.

“No. I think I want to hold them first, see what they feel like.”

“That makes sense.”

“We can make arrangements to pick them up from Mrs Nolan just as soon as lockdown ends,” said Gold, shoving the mop back into its bucket of water and swirling it around. “Speaking of, you’d better make sure you’re ready for class tomorrow. No mad panic at the last minute because you can’t find your books, okay?”

“We’re starting a project on dinosaurs!” announced Bae, and slipped from the table, putting his banana skin in the trash and hurrying upstairs with thundering feet.

x

The following morning Belle woke a little later than usual, and found Bae at the kitchen table furiously scribbling in advance of his first class of the day. She gave him some help where she could, although he turned out to be far better at identifying dinosaur species than she was. She listened attentively as he told her of the asteroid that had fallen, and the chaos that had followed. The reptile species that had disappeared, allowing mammals to thrive.

As Bae was finishing up, Belle went to put on the kettle for some tea. She wasn’t especially hungry, so she wandered out to the rear garden, where she found Gold on his knees in the vegetable patch, pulling out weeds with quick, practised tugs. He glanced up as she approached, shaking his hair back.

“Decided to work in the garden today, huh?” she observed, and he shrugged, glancing around. 

“If we want fresh vegetables this summer, I really need to keep this place tidy,” he said. “You and Bae were doing a good job with it, though, Far less to do than I expected.”

“He had to show me which plants were weeds,” confessed Belle. “I’d probably have pulled up all the onions, left to myself.”

Gold grinned.

“Yeah, it can take a little getting used to, but you learn to recognise what should be there and what should go,” he said, sitting back on his heels and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Where’s Bae? I thought I heard the two of you talking.”

“We were doing the homework he should have done last night,” said Belle, in a dry tone, and Gold shook his head with a grin.

“If he thinks he can pull the wool over Mary Margaret’s eyes, he’s mistaken,” he said. “She’ll know if he’s half-arsed the thing.”

“I gave him a hand,” she said. “I think he’ll pass muster, he seems to know his stuff. He’s really looking forward to the dinosaur project.”

“Good.” He tugged at some more weeds, plucking them out and tossing them aside. “I didn’t want to disturb you this morning. You looked to be very comfortable on the couch when I put my head around the door. I can make us some tea as soon as I’m done here.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” she said. “Can’t believe I slept in. If seven a.m. is sleeping in. I guess it is now. You must have been up with the dawn.”

“I’ve always been an early riser,” he said. “I like the early mornings. It’s quiet. Contemplative. At least until Bae gets up.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she said. “I kind of like it in winter, when it’s still dark and maybe it’s raining, and you sit with a cup of tea waiting for the sun to rise, and it feels like you’re the only one who’s awake.”

“Little chance of that with an eight-year-old, but I know what you mean.”

“Oh, wait until he’s a teenager,” she said, waving a hand. “You won’t be able to get him out of bed then.”

Gold chuckled.

“I suspect you’re right about that,” he said. “Do you run your library classes for teenagers, too?”

“All ages,” she said. “Book clubs, study sessions, research… I’m looking forward to getting started when I can open the place up again.”

“Maybe I’ll get a library card,” he said. “Join one of your book clubs.”

“You’d be very welcome,” she said, and he smiled, turning back to the weeds. 

“I’d better get on with this, give Bae some breakfast before school starts,” he said. “I want to start getting those beans in today.”

Belle got on her knees beside him, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“It’ll go quicker with two,” she suggested, and he gave her a wide, warm grin.

x

Gold cooked that evening, a hearty stew of spicy sausage with lentils, tomatoes and onions, served up with mounds of fluffy mashed potato and steamed kale slick with butter. It was hot and savoury, but Belle found to her dismay that she had lost her appetite. Her head was throbbing a little, a dull, insistent pounding that made her feel a little nauseous, and she pushed a piece of sausage around her plate, watching the path it cut through the thick, russet-coloured liquid.

“Are you alright?”

Gold’s voice made her look up, meeting brown eyes filled with concern. She smiled.

“Not feeling all that great,” she admitted. “Maybe all those early starts are catching up with me.”

He eyed her for a moment, and nodded.

“Go and rest,” he said. “Bae and I will clean up, and I’ll bring you some tea later. Go on, lie down and take a nap.”

“Actually that sounds like a good idea.” Belle put down her fork, pushing back from the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“I hope you’re not sick,” said Bae worriedly, and she smiled, patting his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just tired. I’ll take a nap and be right as rain.”

She pushed up from the table, heading to the door on legs that wobbled a little and trying to shove away the fearful thoughts that were insisting that she was next, that she was sick. She squared her jaw, grasping the handle of the lounge door and pushing it open and heading for her bed on the couch. Rum and Bae had recovered. They were fine. She would be, too.

x

Something was clicking.

Belle was warm and comfortable, eyes closed and the now-familiar scents of wool and orange oil tickling her nose. The clicking noise was still there, a pattering sound which she had first mistaken for raindrops. She opened her eyes, to find the room gently bathed in the golden glow of the corner lamps, the curtains drawn against the night, and Gold in the squashy armchair across from her, knitting.

She watched, fascinated, as his nimble fingers wielded the needles, catching and winding wool to make the stitches, a long length of deep blue forming between his legs. He was concentrating on his task, and she let her eyes roam a little, following the line of his nose and sweeping along his cheekbones to where his hair was turning silver above his slightly pointed ears. Light made shadows in the collar of his shirt, and where his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, his tanned forearms slender and sinewy.

“How are you feeling?”

His voice, though quiet, still made her start, and she flicked her eyes up to meet his.

“Uh…” How was she feeling? “Okay, I guess.”

Gold began counting his stitches with quick flicks of a thumbnail.

“Coughing?” he asked. “Any tightness in your chest?”

“No.” Belle pushed upright, swinging her legs around and letting the blanket drop as she ran her hands over her face. “I feel okay.”

“Headaches?”

“I had one earlier,” she admitted. “It seems to have gone. What time is it?”

“Almost nine-thirty,” he said. “I was going to make some tea.”

“Yes please.” She yawned. “Can’t believe I slept all that time.”

“Hmm.” He put down his knitting and sat forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees and giving her a firm look. “I want you to listen to me, okay? It’s highly possible that you’re about to become as sick as Bae and I have been. So I want you to take my bed tonight.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that…”

“Yes, there is,” he insisted. “You were kind enough to come here and take care of us, and I made you sick. I feel - I feel just awful about it, Belle, really.”

“I feel okay now!”

“But you might not tomorrow,” he said quietly, and his eyebrows raised upward, a desperate, pleading expression. “It’s the least I can do. Please, Belle. I put clean sheets on. It’s all ready for you.”

She sighed, giving him a weary, if fond look.

“You sure you’re ready to sleep on the couch?” she said, and he shrugged, a faint grin on his face. 

“It’s not like it’d be the first time.”

Shaking her head in pretended exasperation, Belle pushed to her feet. She still felt a little unsteady, but perhaps more sleep was all she needed. There was no sign of any coughing, and she didn’t have a fever. 

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll have some tea, and I’ll sleep in your bed. But only to make you feel better, okay? And if I wake up tomorrow and I’m not sick, you get your bed back.”

Gold’s grin widened.

“Deal.”

[lu-undy]

Chapter 25 - SBT

Here it is!

"Meow."

Lucien woke up to a soft sensation on his face. Soft, but noisy… The fluffy ball purred and purred against his cheek and mouth. 

"Perle, laisse-moi dormir, s'il te plaît…"

[Perle, let me sleep, please…]

More purring and the Frenchman's eyes slowly opened. He sighed. 

"Me voilà réveillé maintenant, tu es contente?"

[Here, I am woken up now, are you happy yet?]

She mewled and it mixed in with her purring. Lucien smiled at the soft sounds. 

"Tu as encore dormi dans mon lit?"

[You slept in my bed again?]

"Meow."

"Tu sais que tu as ton propre lit, non?"

[You know you have your own bed, don't you?]

"Meow." She put a paw on Lucien's head in his hair and played with the salt and pepper locks. He smiled. It was such a childish and innocent thing to do.

It had been a few weeks now that he adopted her and Perle had always refused to sleep in her bed. Lucien would put her there but she would always climb on his big bed and sleep next to him, on his very pillow sometimes. 

"Meow." 

She played with his hair, again and again until he raised his eyes to her and she looked down. He raised his hand and took her delicate paw with his index and thumb. The pads on her toes were pink and so small…! Her paw itself was extremely soft. She let him stroke it and stared in his eyes with her deep blue ones. 

Perle purred and moved to brush herself on his mouth. He smiled and kissed her. 

"Oui, ma petite, moi aussi je suis content de te voir." 

[Yes, my little one, I too am happy to see you.]

She loved his kisses and purred as loud as her tiny body could. Lucien chuckled. 

"Maintenant que je suis réveillé, je ferais mieux de me lever. Tu viens?" 

[Now that I am woken up, I had better get up and do something useful. Do you want to come along?]

Lucien got out of his bed and like a reflex, he turned and opened his hands on the bed. Perle jumped on his palms and he gently put her on his shoulder while going through his morning routine. The only part that she was not participating in was his shower. 

The first few days, she would cry and mewl at the base of the shower space. She would jump in too, run to Lucien's ankle and hold on there while complaining repeatedly about the wetness of the water. But the poor little kitten would rather get soaked than be far from her master.

However now, Perle and Lucien both had developed a way for this little comedy to stop. He would leave her outside of the shower but would continuously talk to her from inside. She would answer too, and that way, she didn't feel left behind. Sometimes he would tell her about his day, others, he would just play with her. 

"Perle? Je vais sortir, mon petit… et… bouh!"

[Perle? I will now come out, my little one… and… booh!]

"Meow!"

Lucien peeked his head out and Perle mewled her enthusiasm. He went back to his room with her on his shoulder again and put her on the bed to choose his suit. While he put it on, she watched him and as she soon got bored, she climbed down the bed and got closer to the mirror that Lucien was facing. 

Perle tilted her head left and right trying to understand who that white kitten was and what she wanted. Hm. She raised an uncertain paw and tried to touch the other kitten's. 

"Tu ne te reconnais pas? C'est toi, Perle."

[You don't recognise yourself? It's you, Perle.]

"Meow!"

Now, there were two Luciens too! What the hell was that sorcery!

Lucien smiled at her bewilderment and finished adjusting his tie around his neck. 

"Allez viens, on va petit-déjeuner."

[Come along, we will have breakfast.]

Lucien exited the room and went through the corridor when he realised that he didn't hear the awkward gallop and the rhythmic tics of Perle's little claws on the tiled floor. He turned his back and looked down. She hadn't followed him. 

"Perle?" 

He went back to the room and found her fighting her reflection in the mirror still.

"Perle?"

He called again from the threshold but she was too absorbed in her fight with that other vicious white kitten to listen. 

"Mon bébé?"

[My baby?]

She stopped sharp, pricking her ears up, and raised her eyes to him, standing at the door. 

"Tu viens?" 

[Are you coming?]

"Meow!"

She ran at him and he squatted down to carry her and drop her on his shoulder again before heading for the main door. 

"Bastien a dit qu'il viendrait ce matin. J'ai commandé quelque chose pour toi."

[Bastien said he would come today. I have ordered something for you.] 

Lucien put on his vest and jacket, and went to retrieve the plastic box that the young man had left at his door, the day before. He had tried an omelette with onions and potatoes and Lucien found the result very promising, even if a few more herbs could have enhanced the flavours. The bell rang at the door. 

"Ah…" 

He opened the door and Bastien was there with a package in his hands. 

"Package for you, L! Oh," Bastien saw Perle on her master's shoulder. "Hello, Pearl."

The baby cat hissed. 

"Doucement, Perle."

[Calm down, Perle.]

Bastien chuckled. 

"She doesn't like people?" He asked. 

"Non, the only one she tolerates is me as far as I know." Lucien answered. "My apologies, she is a bit aggressive."

"It's alright."

"Ah, and I have a box for you, Bastien. I have left a note with my comments inside, but it was very good." 

"Oh! Thank you so much!"

"Thank you." 

Bastien took his box and went away. 

"Alors, ma petite Perle, regarde ce que Papa Lulu t'as commandé." 

[So, my little Perle, look what Papa Lulu ordered for you.]

Lucien froze. The last time he had called himself Papa was… He took a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut, frowning. The simple word "Papa" was enough to make his stomach turn. He needed a moment.

"Meow?" Perle brushed herself on him and his shoulders relaxed. 

He sighed. 

"Ce n'est rien." He lied.

[It's nothing.] 

Lucien went to the table and with his knife, he opened the small cardboard box neatly. 

"Voilà." 

[Here it is.]

He removed the paper here and there and extracted a pink collar with a silver pendant, as well as a harness and leash. Those were dark red and made of leather. 

"Comme ça, tu peux aussi te dégourdir les pattes."

[With this, you will be able to follow me around on foot.]

He gently put Perle on the table and put the collar on. Her name was engraved on it and behind, his own name and a phone number, in case she got lost. The pendant itself was shaped like a heart. Lucien then helped her in her harness and attached the leash to it.

"Now, let's have some breakfast, shall we?"

"Meow!"

They exited the suite and soon, the hotel entirely. Perle hadn't complained when Lucien put all those things on her. She was quite happy about it. Now, she could walk without fearing that Lucien would abandon her. Not only had he promised, but he now was linked to her all the time via that leash. So as long as she felt some very light tension on her shoulders, she knew he was there. 

"Perle, attends."

[Perle, wait.]

She stopped, sat down and looked up at him. 

"Quand le petit bonhomme est rouge là-bas, on attend. On ne traverse que quand il passe au vert."

[When the little man is red over there, we have to wait. We cross the road only when he turns green.]

Lucien explained calmly. But then, it hit him. He had gone through that before. His mouth had said those words. Ha, raising Perle really felt like raising a child. Again.

"Meow?"

"Why? Because otherwise a car might pass by and hurt us. So we have to wait for them to stop." 

Perle was sitting at the edge of the pavement. She raised a paw in front of her. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…!" Lucien pushed her paw back on the pavement with the tip of his expensive, varnished, dark brown shoe. "Non, non, non, mon bébé. Tu attends sur le trottoir."

[No, no, no, my baby. You wait on the pavement.]

The light switched to red for cars and green for pedestrians. 

"Maintenant, on regarde à droite et à gauche pour être sûr, et on peut y aller."

[Now, we look right and left to be sure, and we may go.]

They crossed the street. The other pedestrians half guessed what Lucien was saying and only smiled at his fatherly tone with his kitten. But the Frenchman couldn't care less about what other people thought. His entire world was at the end of that leash. His entire, fluffy, tiny, baby world. 

Soon, they entered Victoria's diner. 

"Hey L!" 

"Bonjour, Victoria."

[Hello, Victoria.]

"Oh, hello baby Pearl!" Victoria came closer and the baby cat hissed. 

"My apologies, she doesn't really like people." 

"She likes you though. Weird taste she has, that baby kitty." Victoria said with a smirk as Lucien sat at his usual table. 

"V…" He answered. 

"What? It's true!"

"Fair enough." Lucien admitted with a smile. 

"Meow!" Perle mewled. She tried to climb on the banquette to join Lucien, but the edge was in plastic and she couldn't get any grip on it to climb. 

"Ah, attends, viens ici." 

[Ah, wait, come here.]

Lucien scooped her and put her on his lap.

"So, what will it be for you guys?" She asked. 

"Coffee and croissant for me. And if you have a bit of milk for her, as usual…?"

"Sure!"

"What will you have?" He asked her. 

"Uhm, just a hot chocolate." 

"Add it to my bill please, and come back quickly, she's hungry." Lucien said, seeing how Perle gnawed on his fingers. 

Victoria nodded and disappeared.

"Tu as faim?" 

[Are you hungry?]

Perle dug her teeth a bit deeper against Lucien's fingers.

"Aïe, d'accord, j'ai compris, tu as faim, pas la peine de mordre." 

[Ouch, fine, I get it, you are hungry, no need to bite.]

"Meow!" 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Lucien raised his index and looked at the the kitten seriously. "Pas la peine de geindre non plus. Et dis pardon, tu m'as mordu."

[No need to complain either. And say sorry, you have bitten me.]

"Meow!"

"Perle, tu veux que je me fâche?"

[Perle, do I need to tell you off?]

"Meow…" 

"Je te pardonne. Mais ne recommence plus, d'accord?"

[I forgive you. But don't do it again, alright?]

Lucien put his hand flat on the table, palm facing upwards. Perle put her tiny paw in before jumping entirely in it and laying down. 

"Here we are, coffee and croissant for the old man, milk for the kitty, and hot chocolate for me." Victoria laid them all on the table and sat opposite Lucien.

"Ah, many thanks, V. Perle, dis merci."

[Perle, say thank you.]

"Meow." She answered and went to the small plate with milk, to lap it. 

"C'est bien, ma belle."

[Very good, my beautiful one.]

Lucien scratched her head and raised his cup to Victoria. 

"Bon appétit."

"Thanks, to you too." 

They both took a sip and it cleared their minds, especially Lucien's. 

"So, you owe me, old man."

"Do I?" He asked.

"You got hired at the Queen Victoria or not?" She asked. 

"I did. And here," Lucien put a paper on the table. "For you and your boyfriend."

Victoria blushed. 

"How did you know? Did Joe tell you?"

Lucien smiled. 

"Non, but I can tell when someone is in love."

"Oh, can you?" She teased. 

"Mh-hm." He nodded. "Look at you, your cheeks are more pink than before, you wear clothes with brighter colours and you definitely smile more." Lucien explained.

"Oi! Are you saying I was grumpy before?" V asked. 

"Well, I wasn't the one to say it." He answered with a chuckle. 

"Oh yeah, you can laugh, you were grumpy too until you found Pearl, eh! And now look, you have completely adopted her, collar, leash and everything! You're even educating her as if she was a kid."

He nodded as he bit in his croissant. 

"Oui, indeed, I do. She follows me almost everywhere." 

They both looked at the baby cat who was lapping at the milk enthusiastically. 

"Oh wait, those are actual free dinners?!" Victoria exclaimed when she read the leaflet that Lucien had given her. 

"Oui, I got hired and I am the lead singer there now. I organise and manage the shows. You should come to see. The food is quite good, and the shows are the best." 

"Sure, the shows are the best, eh? So much for bein' humble."

"Pardon my honesty." He said with a smirk. 

"Jesus, you never stop…!"

He winked at her. 

"But yeah, as much as it pains me to say it, you held your word and got hired in the poshest place in all of Oz…" 

"Ha, and you had doubts…" He shook his head. 

"How did you do it?" She asked.

"My usual confidence and a bit of charm." 

"Christ almighty! You need to be told how to be humble!" Victoria said, exasperated. 

"I don't think I need to be taught that." He arrogantly added, just for her to facepalm, and she did. 

"Anyway, I'm happy you could find a job, and above all, someone to keep you company." Victoria said, looking down at Perle. 

"Meow." 

She was licking herself, trying to clean the milk on her face but couldn't reach it all. 

"Viens, je vais te nettoyer." 

[Come here, I will clean you.] 

Lucien grabbed a paper towel and Perle hissed. She hated it. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Allons, ça ne va pas durer longtemps."

[Come on, it won't last long.]

He wiped her face and she clawed in the paper to shred it, hissing again. Lucien let go of it and let her destroy the thing. It stuck to her claws and paws, which made her even more mad. Both him and Victoria chuckled at the raging war between the kitten and the paper towel. 

"Does she still cry when you leave?" Victoria asked. 

"A bit, oui, I hear her mewling and clawing at the door. But when I come back home, I find her asleep on my pillow in the bed."

"Aww, such a cute baby she is." 

"The most adorable, I think." Lucien said, looking at her with kind eyes. 

-- Later, Lucien's suite -- 

Lucien had repeated the piece he wanted to play and sing for the next concert. It wasn't an easy piece, non, but he would do it. He would sing it in front of Duchemin, for her, that woman. 

Perle was lying on the piano, her eyes half closed, staring at him. He stopped and took a deep breath before taking a glance at his watch. Lucien then stood up and went to put on his jacket.

Perle jumped down from the piano to the seat in front of it and finally the floor.

"Meow!"

"Je dois sortir de nouveau."

[I need to go out again.]

"Meow?"

"Non, tu ne peux pas venir, c'est pour le travail, ma belle."

[No, you can't come with me, it is for work, my beautiful one.]

Lucien pulled his trousers' legs up slightly and crouched down to scratch her head. Perle started mewling repeatedly. She knew he was about to go and leave her.

"Non, ma petite, je suis désolé, tu ne peux vraiment pas venir. Ce sont des affaires d'adultes, c'est bien trop dangereux pour un bébé comme toi."

[No, my little one, I am sorry, you really cannot come. This is adults' business, it's way too dangerous for a baby like you.]

He scooped her off her floor and kissed her head while she brushed herself against his mouth. 

"Tu restes sage pour moi?" 

[You keep quiet for me?]

Perle sat in his palms.

"Meow." 

"Très bien. Je suis fier de toi." 

[Very good. I am proud of you.] 

He kissed her head again and heard her purr before dropping her on the floor again and leaving the flat. He locked the door and waited. 

There was one muffled meow. 

-- Maurice's street -- 

"Bonjour, Maurice."

"L, what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"I have a matter to discuss with you. That, and a few questions." 

"Do you need somewhere more calm?" 

Maurice's question might have sounded idiotic as the dirty street was as calm as the air itself could be. But that was exactly why Lucien needed somewhere else. After all, one can't hear a conversation clearer than in pure silence. 

"Oui, s'il te plaît."

[Yes, please.]

Mundy stood up and Lucien followed him. A few moments later, they found themselves in the beggar's hideout, underground.

"So, what can I do to help?" 

"I went to the old hangar." Lucien started. "But someone showed up that ruined my plans and intentions." 

"Ah?" 

Lucien instantly saw the fake surprise in Maurice's eyes. 

"Why didn't you tell me that there would be someone else?" The spy asked. 

"I didn't think it would be relevant." Maurice answered. "But please, tell me how he managed to ruin your strategy, I am curious." 

Lucien pointed to a chair. "May I?" 

"Of course." 

Both of them sat on wooden chairs, around the large oval table. 

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Lucien asked.  

"Be my guest."

"Many thanks." Lucien offered one to his host but Maurice declined. He lit his one and recounted the story.

"I intended to get myself captured so that Duchemin's men would take me straight to him. From there, I would deal with him."

"But?" Maurice anticipated. 

"But, this hunter appeared and freed me from my captivity. A brilliant sharpshooter I must say. I know very few people who would have managed to pull the shots he did from such a distance. Every single bullet hit their target, not a single miss, and what bullets…? Custom made darts that I had never heard of before, a clever design."

There was the shadow of a smile on Maurice's lips. 

"So I wonder." Lucien went on. "Who is he and why did you not tell me about him?" 

"Ah, well, those questions both require long answers." Maurice cleared his throat. "What did he tell you about himself?" 

"That he is a hunter but his preys are poachers, not beasts. If not for those outstanding shots he took, I would have taken him for a local hippie. However, there is something in his impressive accuracy that my head cannot quite understand. No simple hunter can be that skilled. Even during my time in the army there were atrociously few people who could shoot with such precision on so many shots. Non, there is more to that man."

Lucien paused to catch his breath. 

"He told me he is also after Duchemin. I told him it was stupid and he would end up dead. His answer struck me." 

"What did he say?" Maurice asked. 

"Don't care." Lucien quoted the tall hunter. 

Maurice smiled. 

"Doesn't that remind you of anyone?" The beggar asked with a smirk. "Someone who wants Duchemin dead more than anything else?"

The Frenchman frowned and took a drag off of his cigarette. 

"Is he my enemy?" He asked Maurice. 

"Did he seem like one?" Maurice answered. 

"Why do I have the feeling that you are hiding something about that man from me?" Lucien asked. 

"Maybe that is because I am." 

"Why not tell me?" 

"Maybe that is because you have to find out for yourself." 

Lucien raised his sharp eyes to Maurice. The beggar was smiling through his bushy grey beard.

[destieldrabblesdaily]

hello there (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I'm pretty new to destiel and just found your blog because I wanted to look into some fanfics and someone recommended & turns that you have like a billion one shots for destiel! love your writing style but, I'm not sure where to start in your drabbles tag because it's soooo much (ﾟдﾟ) can u maybe point me to some popular ones or some that you preferred writing or something like that to get me started? thank you anyway (ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿

Hey friend! 

Ahh, I totally get you. :p A billion is a bit ambitious, but with like 400 stories in one tag and no way to sort, it might get tricky. *sweats nervously for not having a better tagging system*

But anyway, you rock for finding my blog and liking my style, so here is a little something to help you out! For starters, a lot of my stories are also on AO3, which is still a realm of chaos, but is a hell of a lot easier to navigate than my tumblr tag. 

Anyway, here is a little map to get you started, sorted by my most popular Destiel fics (according to AO3), and ones I personally just loved writing!

—

Canon!Verse fics, most popular:

1) CursedTeam Free Will is hunting a witch, but before she dies she turns Cas into a kitten. They can’t find a cure, and after two weeks everyone is losing hope. One night when Cas is sleeping on Dean’s chest, the curse fades and he turns into himself again. As Dean’s luck would have it, Sam walks into the living room seeing Dean sprawled out on the couch with a very naked Castiel on top of him.

2) JealousyWhen Dean, Sam and Castiel are having a drink at a bar after a hunt, Dean finds Cas flirting with a guy, and suddenly realizes something about his own feelings for the angel… 

3) Dream A Little DreamCastiel goes after a Djinn but gets captured, and of course his dream world is all about Dean and him being happy together, so he’s very disappointed when Dean and Sam save him and he wakes up… 

4) With A Little Help From My FriendDean is really nervous about finally telling Castiel how he feels, so he practices over Skype with Charlie. Naturally, Cas chooses that exact moment to drop by, and ends up hearing the whole thing…

5) WhiteboardFor a while now, there has been a whiteboard in Dean’s room. When failing to say the words out loud, there’s always the option to write them down. So that’s exactly what Castiel suggests, and Dean humors him, the two of them finding new ways to understand and forgive each other by working through some issues from both the present and the past.

—

Soulmate AU’s, most popular:

1) What Can’t Be SeenSoulmate AU where you first see color after eye contact: Cas is a famous best selling author and he’s promoting his book, so he’s talking to a crowd of people and suddenly his world is in color, and a lot of his fans pretend to be his soulmate. A Cinderella type situation ensues.

2) The PendantAU where instead of a tattoo/name everyone’s born with a pendant/charm necklace that matches their soulmate’s. Dean walks into their bathroom thinking it’s empty, but there’s Cas taking off his shirt to take a shower and Dean sees his necklace (that matches Dean’s, obviously) and freaks out (because Dean is totally 100% NOT gay at all). Bonus if Cas already knows.

3) Daffodils & Forget-Me-NotsSoulmate AU where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soulmate’s skin as well.

—

High School AU’s, most popular:

1) No HomoFor the prompt: ‘I wasn’t gay, but then I kissed you in front of some homophobes to piss them off, and turns out I might be kinda gay for you after all’. In which a kiss makes Dean realize that he has feelings for his best friend.

2) This Game We PlayDean and Castiel have been best friends since they were little, and sleepovers are a common event. They’ve always loved playing the game where they draw out letters on each others backs and try to guess what the other is writing. Even though sixteen seems to be a bit too old to still play the game, Castiel uses it as a chance to silently confess something that he’s been wanting to share with Dean for a long time.

3) Camping and CuddlesDean and Castiel have been best friends since forever, and they decide to go on a camping trip to celebrate graduating high school. When it starts raining and Cas’ tent turns out to have a huge hole in it, the boys are forced to share Dean’s tent, and things heat up.

4) The CallCastiel accidentally butt dials his best friend Dean, and Dean overhears a conversation that wasn’t meant for his ears. Or: the one in which Dean finds out that his best friend has feelings for him.

5) Practice Makes Perfect‘It’s not gay if it’s practice, but shit that was actually really nice wanna practice some more?’ Or, the one in which Dean offers to help his best friend Cas improve his kissing skills, until it’s no longer just ‘practice’. 

(If you are particularly into High School AU’s, I also made a complete list of al my HS AU’s that you can find here –> Click!

—

College/Roommate AU’s, most popular:

1) What It MeansDean’s roommate and best friend Castiel always says ‘I love you’ to him every night before they go to sleep. Seeing as Dean has some serious feelings for his friend, he can’t take the confusion any longer and one night asks Cas what it means when he says ‘I love you’. 

2) If At First You Don’t SucceedFor the prompt: “Wait, did you just flirt with me?“ “Have been for the past year, but thanks for noticing.

”Dean has a huge crush on his friend Castiel, with whom he also shares an apartment. When he decides that he finally wants to woo Cas, everything that could possibly go wrong, does indeed go wrong.

3) UnbrokenDean’s best friend and roommate Castiel is asexual, and it’s causing Cas a lot of trouble when it comes to dating. Cas feels broken, but Dean deeply disagrees; he’d be with Cas in a heartbeat, if only Cas would see him as more than a friend… 

4) Safe And SoundFor the prompt: ‘College!AU where Dean and Cas are roommates and one of them is afraid of thunder, so naturally they have to huddle/cuddle together until the storm is over.’

5) Hot & ColdDean and his best friend Castiel get stuck in the middle of nowhere when the Impala’s engine gives up on them. A snowstorm is raging, and it seems that the only way to keep warm is a method that sounds a lot like ‘naked cuddling’. Not that Dean is complaining.

—

Blind/Deaf AU’s, most popular:

1) Through Your EyesDean’s best friend Castiel is blind, which is why Cas loves it whenever Dean describes the things as he sees them. When Castiel gets curious and wants more details about Dean’s looks, Dean is reluctant to go into detail about them. Castiel’s solution is simple, and demands nothing more than a gentle touch.

2) At First SightDean has been blind since he was four years old, but at 18 years old he regains his sight through special surgery. This also means that he will finally be able to actually see his boyfriend Castiel for the first time. Castiel is excited, but at the same time utterly terrified that Dean won’t approve of his looks…

3) MisunderstandingsWhen the handsome new student Castiel Novak arrives at Lawrence High, Dean has every intention of making him feel welcome. However, Castiel seems to ignore Dean whenever Dean tries to talk to him…

4) DeliciousImagine your OTP, based on this text post: ‘Okay, so I’m a waitress at this restaurant that’s open really late and it’s nearly 1am and this family comes in and I’m so tired that I handed their BLIND SON a menu and he’s like “ah… thank you… I’ll just… read this” in a serious voice and I fucking snorted.'With blind!Dean and waiter!Cas.

—

Personal favorites to write:

1) Her Favorite Love StoryThe story of Dean and Castiel as seen through Mary Winchester’s eyes; AKA how she witnesses her oldest son fall in love with his best friend. 

2) The MatchmakerBased on this prompt: “My cat keeps breaking into your apartment next to mine, so I tied a note to its collar to apologize, and you write back. We keep exchanging cat notes, and you turn out to be pretty cute.” 

3) WingsWhen ten year old Dean Winchester and his family move to a new town, he becomes best friends with the boy next door, who happens to be an actual angel. Dean is fascinated with Castiel’s wings from the start, however when they get older, Cas suddenly starts hiding them and no longer wants Dean to groom them for him.

4) BlackboardsFor the prompt: 'Dean and Cas are both high school teachers, and they leave each other cute notes on each others’ black boards.’

5) To Date a DickCas is out on a date with a complete and utter asshole in a really nice restaurant, and Dean is their waiter who feels the need to intervene.

6) Angel Grace (2 Parts)Dean Winchester loves going to conventions to meet the cast of his favorite TV show 'Angel Grace’. Aside from being good at his job, lead actor Castiel Novak is charming, handsome, and has a heart of gold. Like many fans, Dean has a serious crush on the guy. However after meeting Castiel several times, it’s starting to look like Dean’s crush isn’t as one sided as Dean had always assumed it was.

—

Holiday Specials:

❄ Destiel Drabbles: December/Christmas Edition Fluffy Christmas-themed Destiel stories to warm the cockles of your heart during the cold December days! 

❄ All I Want For ChristmasDuring a big family get together, a drunk Castiel starts singing ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ to his best friend Dean while the whole family watches.

🕷Destiel Drabbles: Halloween EditionSome fluffy Halloween themed Destiel drabbles. Happy Halloween!

🕷Kiss Or TreatCastiel has been dutifully handing out Halloween candy all night, entertaining the many kids ringing the Novak house’s doorbell, but he’s in for a big surprise when the bell rings once more and it’s his crush Dean Winchester suddenly standing there on his front porch…

🕷Of Holding Hands and Haunted HousesFor the prompt: 'You’re scared of haunted houses and Halloween attractions, and I don’t even know you but your friends left you behind (what dicks) so I’m gonna hold your hand and get you through this, alright?’

♥Valentine’s DayFor the prompt: 'Cas anonymously sending Dean one of those school Valentine’s Day flowers with a little personalized note, thinking that someone as popular as Dean won’t notice his message anyway because he gets so many. Little does he know that Dean sent one to him as well…’

—

If you feel like reading a multi-chapter Destiel fic, I wrote one of those as well: 

Fortune CookiesDean and his best friend Jo own a bakery together. When a salesman named Crowley visits Dean to make a deal, Dean has no idea of the consequences, and his world turns upside down when an actual angel literally crashes into his life. For the first time in his thirty-year-existence, Dean is overwhelmed by real companionship, wings, and most of all… love.

—

Or for easily reading and clicking through short fluffy (mostly canon!verse) Destiel stories, go here:

~ 100 Days of Destiel Drabbles ~

Or here: 

~ 30 Days of Destiel Drabbles ~

—

Hope this was helpful, and happy reading! :D (I really need to become a better tagger, ahum. :p)