Post More LADY!

Post more LADY!

{Ps2 graphics K}

SORRY, YOU GOT THE WRONG ADDRESS - al-haitham x gn!reader

So, it started like this: you accidentally sent the e-mail with your story to the wrong person. You noticed only when the person you sent it to replied back... with a whole critique of your work and pointed out every typo and wrong grammar. You could have ignored it. It was a stranger who rudely critiqued your work without asking. But your pride was too hurt at this point and you just couldn't leave it like this. And so, the stranger replies again. (Unknowingly to you two, the stranger isn't really a stranger, but your old friend who you lost contact with. But... that's for you to find out, isn't it?)

TAGS: social media au in the form of emails, slice of life, writer!reader, overall a light read with elements of comedy at times and fluff, they/them used for reader

EXCHANGE 0: to be sent

TAGLIST: @cloudycloudd @letthewindlead @kazumist @ilyuu

a/n: HI. HELLO. a silly smau i decided to make because alhaitham won the poll! this seriously is going to be a fluffy light read with no drama compared to don't trust the media so if u like things like this?? when ure in the right place! ill post first chapter... soon-ish. ok bye

It’s all coming. Don’t rush it. Get ready because everything will change. Prove now that you’re learning the lessons for the next level. Get ready!

Tony Gaskins

Rubies in the Dark LUCIFER x gn!Reader 4.9k Words | NSFW | Medieval Fantasy AU | Dubious Behaviour Content Warnings: Dark Elvish Prince!Lucifer x Alchemist!Reader. Contains descriptions of monsters, magic and blood/gore/violence; minor injury; implied stalking, breaking and entering, invasion of privacy; dream magic, dream sex, mutual masturbation, implied somnophilia. (Also, shameless references to Warcraft lore because it inspired the worldbuilding for this story.) A/N: This is my fic for @bizarrebankai's 1k Follower Collab! 💙

It’s been nearly five years since you left your family’s small farm to create a new life in Hillsbrad Foothills. You didn’t have any weapons' training and you weren’t magically gifted. Some of your childhood friends were, and they were able to move away to pursue new adventures, leaving you behind. Your family expected you to accept your boring country life, but you knew you wanted more. Disappointment and heartbreak finally motivated you to pack your meager belongings and set off on your own adventure.

You might not be a warrior or mage, but your new freedom gave you the opportunity to explore and study your true passion for alchemy. Your small cottage is located in one of the villages near the Alterac Mountains. Most of the villagers are hunters, gatherers, or tradesmen.

You make a comfortable living trading your alchemy creations to the other villagers. The foothills are an abundant source of some of the most useful flowers and herbs for crafting utility potions and healing elixirs. You don’t like to let things go to waste; the discarded plants you can’t use are milled and turned into ink that you supply to the local constable and village leaders. 

In exchange for your services, they provide you with clothing and food and other useful goods. Your life is lonely, but it’s comfortable. Time has healed old wounds and very rarely is your mind plagued with doubt and regret; you know you’re better off without your unsupportive family and the weak-willed ex-lover you left behind.

Today was surprisingly busy and you were in your alchemy lab all morning. The weather started to turn and you saw clouds rolling over the hills when you peeked out the window. You glance at your herb reserves hesitantly and wonder if you have enough time to gather some more before the storm comes.

One of the village’s recent hunts ended bloodier than usual–there weren't any deaths, but more hunters were seriously wounded than normal. You were more than eager to provide them with potions to accelerate their recovery, but most of your supplies have run out as a result.

The wildlife in the foothills has become exceedingly aggressive. There aren’t many visitors to these quiet lands. There are rumors circulating the village of suspicious travellers conducting experiments with local animals and plant life along the region’s uninhabited borders. They talk about rabid animals and foliage overrun with disease, but you’ve been fortunate not to come across anything like that yourself.

The foothills aren’t easily accessible and are used mainly as a thoroughfare to other regions. There’s only one main road travelers can use to bypass the mountains: the eastern road leads into the valleys and the sea beyond; or the western road that winds up through Silverpine Forest, a thick and dark place nestled along the mountain range.

You’ve heard stories about Silverpine Forest, too–or the Demon’s Forest, if suspicious townsfolk are to be believed. Some people say that monsters hunt along the road at night. If the legends are true, they capture weary travelers and unsuspecting hunters and drag them to their demise in the dark, never to be seen or heard from again. This land might be home to magical and wondrous things, but even you doubt that the stories are true.

Regardless of what you believe, you try to be cautious when you go out to collect herbs on your own. You attach a long knife to your belt before you slip on your cloak, although it is more useful for trimming leaves and brances than for protection.

You bite your lip and glance nervously at the sky. The clouds overhead threaten rainfall, but you think you have enough time to restock some of your depleted resources. You slip out of your little cottage and follow the stone path to the main road heading west.

Today’s harvest is productive and uneventful. These foothills are an excellent source of Briarthorn and Silverleaf, some of the most potent herbs you use regularly. You’ll be able to provide the local healers with more elixirs with extras to spare.

You don’t normally venture this close to the western border, but you naturally follow the most abundant patches of herbs and it led you there. You haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary, but you’re still eager to return to your cottage before it gets too late. 

You set along the path that will lead you home when a strange sound carries on the wind and catches your attention. It doesn’t sound human, but you recognize the whimpers and whines of a creature in pain. You take a hesitant step off the main road, and then another, until you’re walking slowly, carefully, through the grass towards the noise.

The unusual sounds lead you down a deep, sloping hill towards one of the region’s abandoned mines. You shiver from the sudden drop in temperature–something about the air in this area feels unsettling and desolate, and it sets your nerves on edge. The pained noises come from just inside the opening of one of the mining tunnels. You peek around the corner carefully, and you spot some sort of wounded animal.

At a first glance, you think it might be a type of bear, but it’s hard to tell without getting closer. It’s stuck in a tangled mess of thick, white webbing that pins it to the ground. The beast raises its head when your leather boot disturbs some loose stones, and its eyes–or is that two pairs of eyes?–blink at you. The beast is still whimpering in pain, but a low growl echoes around you now, too.

You hold up your hands and show the beast you mean it no harm. It sniffs the air curiously and the growling fades, which you interpret as a sign that it’s safe to approach. You kneel at the beast’s side and examine the webs trapping the poor animal in place. You stroke its furry back soothingly as you slowly cut away the thinner sections of webbing, but the thicker ropes along the beast’s back are too tough for your knife to hack through.

You’re so distracted by your task that a new sound startles you and makes your blood run cold; the beast starts to growl louder and more menacing than before. There’s a hissing noise approaching you from deep within the mine. The flurried sound of skittering limbs echo off the stone walls. Dozens of yellowish eyes seem to float in the darkness further down the tunnel from you and the beast.

It appears that the mines are home to a nest of overgrown spiders. The spiders are nothing like what you’ve seen before: they’re nearly as tall as you are and much wider,. They have gnarly limbs and strange, pulsing growths jutting from their backs.

You have no weapons except for your knife, and it’s a poor substitute for a proper sword or axe–not that you could wield either of those successfully, even if you had one. The beast struggles to break free of its bindings next to you, but its limbs are still immobilized by the webs.

You don’t want to run and leave the beast to a bloody fate, but you don’t want to be devoured by the monsters approaching you either. You’re paralyzed by indecision and fear. You remember the stories of suspicious individuals creating abominations from nature in their wake. You didn’t want to believe the rumors were true; you didn’t think this is how you would die.

Something knocks into your back, and you yell in fright as you’re pushed aside. You’re afraid that a monster ambushed you from behind, but instead you see a tall figure wearing leather hunting gear underneath a long, dark cloak.

Whoever it is stops and examines the beast closely, and a male voice speaks to it in a strange language you don’t understand. He pats the beast’s heads–all three of them– before he approaches the swarm of spiders. He doesn’t hesitate to draw a long steel blade, and you stare in horror as he marches towards certain death.

“Hey, wait, don’t–!” you try to warn the stranger. You realize very quickly that your warning was not wanted or needed.

It’s not a battle so much as it is a slaughter. His movements are graceful but quick, and they’re difficult for you to follow. He darts a path through the monsters, his sharp weapon slicing through the air and cutting them down effortlessly. Frenzied, monstrous shrieks and hissing fill the air; the sound of flesh slicing and squelching blood makes you nauseous. The musty mine air grows heavy with the hint of copper. You clench your eyes shut and cover your ears.

Eventually, the sounds of carnage fade into nothingness, and all you can hear now is the wild thumping of your heartbeat. When you open your eyes, the hooded stranger is standing near the beast’s side once more. His sword drips black-red ichor from the slain spiders, and he wipes the blade clean. He cuts through the webbing so the beast can finally stand up properly. It reminds you of an enormous dog as it shakes its dark fur. Its heads each try to lick at the stranger’s face, and you hear a soft huff of amusement; it nearly makes you smile, despite everything you’ve just gone through.

The stranger finally seems to remember your presence and turns to face you. Most of his face is shrouded in darkness with his hood still up, but you know he’s staring at you. His attention feels weighted, almost suffocating. His aura is intense and you’ve seen for yourself he’s capable of ruthless bloodshed, but for some reason, you don’t feel afraid.

His head tilts questioningly. “Why?” his smooth voice asks quietly. “Why did you stop to help him?”

“I wanted to,” you reply honestly. You cringe when you realize how naive it sounds. You could’ve died, and you probably would have died, if not for the traveler’s excellent timing.

You don’t know what to say, and neither does he judging by his icy silence. Something catches your eye when you take a better look at his clothing. There’s a gash on his arm, and the thin material of his tunic is already soaked with blood from the wound. “You’re hurt,” you point out worriedly.

He looks at his arm like he didn’t even notice he was wounded, but he startles when you approach him without hesitation. “What do you think you’re–?” the stranger demands, but he only makes a half-hearted attempt to pull away from you.

You shake your head to silence his complaints and focus on his injury. You normally carry a small assortment of bandages in one of your pouches, pre-soaked with healing elixir, and you unwrap one and press it to his arm. You wrap it around the wound as gently as you can.

“I make these myself,” you explain to him quietly. You move the ripped fabric of his shirt aside, and your fingers brush against his bare skin. You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you pause tying the bandage in place. “Is it too tight?”

Even with his hood up, you can tell he’s shaking his head. “No, no–it’s fine."

When you’re satisfied with your work, you step back and give him some space. The man seems to be focused on his arm now, and the strange tension between you makes you nervous. Before you can think of anything else to say, rumbling thunder booms in the distance outside the mine and you look over your shoulder. The sky is even darker now, and only the barest hints of sunlight peek through the clouds.

You suddenly feel the tingling sensation of magic in the air. You turn around to ask the man if he lives nearby and what his name is, but he and his beast are gone. You scan the tunnel as far as your eye can see, but nothing else remains except for the plagued spider creatures the traveler killed to save you.

More thunder booms, louder and closer than before, and you rush from the mine. You see no sign of the man or his beast, but the storm brews on the horizon. You have no choice but to continue the journey home as quickly as you can and hope that they’re safe now too.

The villagers are on high alert after you inform them of the monstrous spiders you encountered near the western border of the region. You leave out the details of meeting the cloaked stranger and his three-headed beast.

Your thoughts drift to them often in the days that pass since that tense encounter. The traveler must be a gifted magic user if he was able to teleport them both away so easily. You feel the pang of envy when you think of your nonexistent magical skills, but you remind yourself that you’re an accomplished alchemist instead. You’ve honed your talents and found your own purpose in life; you don't need anything else.

Sometimes when you walk to town to buy supplies, or when you tend to the small garden of herbs near your cottage, you feel uneasy. You glance around nervously when the sensation of being watched makes your skin break out in goosebumps. You call out nervously and ask who’s there, but no one answers. The silence feels anticipatory somehow, and you wonder what it means.

The next morning you stumble tiredly from your room after a restless sleep. You think a warm cup of tea will help, but you freeze when you leave your room and realize there’s a man in your house. His back is facing you while he looks over the alchemy texts and storybooks on your shelf. He turns to you properly when he hears your startled yelp of surprise. 

The man looks like no one you’ve ever seen before. Black hair streaked with grey falls over his intense ruby-coloured eyes. He wears a silver circlet adorned with black opals. His black regalia is perfectly tailored and looks expensive. The dark fabric is accented with gold and red threads that almost seem to glitter in the sunlight shining through your window. His cloak is lined with fur, and his black leather boots are shined to a high polish. He clears his throat and tugs on the cuff of his gloves, almost like he’s nervous. Whoever the stranger is, he looks regal and important and painstakingly out of place in your humble cottage.

You should be afraid that a stranger broke into your home and looked through your belongings while you were sleeping in the next room unaware. However, there’s something familiar about him that you can’t place at first. You suddenly think of a three-headed beast and the cloaked stranger that saved you both, his pale, sharp jawline peeking below the shadow of his hood–

You realize the man before you is the swordsman from the mine, and he nods his confirmation when you ask him if he's one and the same. Your gaze lingers on his intense red eyes and the pointed tips of his ears, and he explains that he lives deep in Silverpine Forest with the elves. He tells you that he’s the crown prince of his kind, and he’s here because he owes you a debt of gratitude.

He looks visibly irritated when you tell him repayment of any kind isn’t necessary. Shouldn’t you be repaying him since he saved your life? But there’s a pink flush blooming across his cheeks despite his offended expression, and all he says is that it’s complicated. Apparently, risking your life to save elvish royalty–or his pet–is a big deal.

You rub your arms nervously and ask what he means. You’re expecting him to offer some sort of compensation, like gold or possible rare goods, adn you plan on refusing all of it. What you don’t expect is for him to ask permission to court you. His eyes are serious and they blaze angrily when you burst into laughter at his proclamation.

(He doesn’t tell you that his brothers noticed his increasingly distracted behaviour the days following your fateful encounter. He washed the bandage you gave him and kept it for sentimental reasons he can’t even articulate properly. He can’t look at Cerberus without remembering how close he came to losing his beloved companion, or how brave you were to try to save him yourself. He thinks of how kind you were when you tended to his wounded arm and how gently you touched him–no one's ever touched him like that before.

He thinks about the spies he sent to your cottage to learn more about you, and how he grew too eager and started watching over you himself. He thinks about your reputable alchemy skills and kind nature, and how respected you are in your small village. He thinks about your potential, and how he can offer you so much more, if you’ll give him the chance.)

In the awkward silence that follows, you realize he isn’t joking and he's waiting for your response. You don’t mean to offend him, and you apologize profusely, but he can’t seriously expect you to accept such a proposal so easily, right?

But you think about your quiet isolation with only fleeting acquaintances among the townspeople to keep you company. You think about the world beyond the foothills that you pretend doesn’t exist. You’re not sure how you’ve ended up in another isolated prison of your own making.

Were you craving a sense of adventure when you let a strange beast’s cries lead you astray from the safest path home? What could someone like an elvish prince offer someone like you?

The world, a treasonous voice whispers in your mind. Judging by the mischievous gleam in his eye, you’re not sure whether that voice was yours or his.

You explain to him as gently as you can that you can’t accept such a bold offer of courtship, but you would be happy to accept an offer of friendship instead.

He readily agrees with your counter-proposal, and you wonder what you’re missing that makes him look so pleased; he looked ready to attack you for wounding his pride only moments ago. He refuses your offer to stay longer and visit, but he assures you that you’ll see him again soon. You stop him before he leaves when you realize you don’t even know his name.

My name is Lucifer, he tells you warmly. There’s an unreadable smile teasing his lips, and he offers you a murmured farewell before he disappears in a ripple of magic.

You ignore the curious voice inside your mind that wonders how long he'll make you wait before he visits again.

It’s been nearly a week since Lucifer visited your cottage and turned your world upside down. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve made a mental note to ask him what friendship means to elvishkind. It almost seems like he completely ignored your rejection of his offer to court you.

Each morning when you wake, you find some sort of gift in your sitting room: a vase of rare wildflowers, silver jewelry fashioned similarly to the circlet he wore, a new cloak lined with soft fur that looks suspiciously like his own.

You pick up today’s gift–a heavy, leatherbound book about plants and herbs with blank pages at the end for keeping notes. You recognize some of the drawings on the pages: those plants don’t grow in the foothills, but you know they grow in abundance within Silverpine Forest where Lucifer lives, that cheeky devil.

These tokens feel too intimate for the early stages of blooming friendship, but you suspect he knows that. Is he so arrogant that he thinks your affections can be won so easily despite your initial protests?

(Or does he know that despite your protests, you enjoy all his thoughtful gifts? He’s so considerate of your interests and passions. It’s difficult not to be flattered that someone as interesting and handsome as him would be determined to impress someone like you.) 

Your cottage starts to feel different as it fills with gifts the elvish prince brings you while you sleep. It’s almost like he leaves hints of his unique magic on purpose for you to find. You catch whiffs of the smoky-sweet fragrance he wears as you walk through the halls, and you can't help but think of him when you do.

Sometimes you still feel like you’re being watched, but the sensation feels friendlier somehow, rather than invasive and alarming. When you look out your window in the evenings and stare into the thicket behind your cottage, you can almost imagine the flash of blood-red eyes staring back at you.

You’ve been using the book Lucifer gave you as a type of journal. It’s become an intimate confession of your wonder and your fears and doubts. You write about regret and hope and opportunities for new beginnings. You think about friendship and the potential for more, and you wonder how it might feel to wake up in a bed warmed by someone that loves you. You haven’t wanted these sorts of things in a very long time. You’re not sure whether to thank or curse the elvish prince for filling your head with such desperately beautiful ideas.

The next morning, you wake up and find another gift: a glass jar filled with fragrant tea leaves. The unique blend smells earthy and herbal and slightly sweet. You hold the jar to your chest and glance at your journal on the writing desk. It’s open to the last page you wrote on, but you know you closed it before you went to bed last night. Realization dawns on you: Lucifer wanted you to know that he read it, and now he knows all your conflicted thoughts about him.

You boil water and make a cup of tea with the leaves he gave you. You step outside into the early morning sunlight and sip your drink thoughtfully. The familiar feeling of eyes on you returns, and you wonder why it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it used to.

You dream of Lucifer for the first time that night. It feels like your consciousness is floating amongst soft clouds. You feel weightless and protected and cared for. You can’t see him–not at first, anyway–but you know he’s there with you. His familiar scent is so strong you can almost taste it, and you recognize the deep, teasing timber of his voice when his quiet chuckle echoes all around you. You know it’s not real, but it feels like strong arms cradle you in a warm embrace and it feels so wonderful.

Wakefulness disturbs the tranquility of the dream, and you see one last flicker of red eyes before you sit up in your bed, wide-awake and breathless. You rub your eyes and squint as the morning sunshine filters in the gap of your curtain and bathes your room in light. Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you realize he left his next gift in your room this time: a deep-red rose fully in bloom and tied with a black ribbon, placed next to your pillow while you dreamt of him.

Whatever is happening between you and Lucifer continues to grow more intense as days pass. Every night when you sleep, he visits you in your dreams like he knows your resistance to him is crumbling. His dream-self doesn’t really speak to you, except for deep sighs that sound like your name when he holds against his chest. Sometimes his fingers trail lightly up and down your arm, and you can feel his warm, damp breath fan against your nape as his nose brushes against your neck.

His presence fades away when you wake up with the morning sun, and your new gift from him waits somewhere nearby. The traces of his magic seem to linger and grow stronger each time he visits you in your room. It almost feels possessive, like he’s leaving his mark on you so you can’t possibly forget him. It’s a constant reminder of who he is and what he wants from you.

His gifts become more intimate over time, too–a box filled with rare candied nuts and creamy chocolates, a bottle of rare fruit wine, a delicately woven blanket for your bed. Today’s gift is the most extravagant yet: a black silk robe with gold and red embroidery. It’s similar in style to the royal regalia he wore when he came to your home for the first time. The underlying significance of that doesn’t escape your notice.

You set the robe aside while you dress in your normal attire and carry on with your work for the day. Time passes in a blur as you grind herbs to make potions, and you mill the discarded parts into pigment for ink. When you head to the village to deliver the finished goods, you feel his intense gaze on you from somewhere nearby; he must realize by now that the bashful smile you try to smother is meant for him.

A strange feeling of anticipation has been building inside you all day. You get ready for bed that evening and take off your clothes. It’s almost like you can’t stop yourself when you slip on the robe he gave you in place of your usual sleepwear. The significance of wearing this to bed, and only this, doesn’t escape you either.

You don’t normally think about your appearance or attractiveness, but wearing something that he made specially for you feels like a type of seduction. The robe feels so soft and sensual against your naked skin, and you realize this is what it feels like to be desirable. The robe is loose across your chest and near the gap between your legs when you lay down. The thin fabric leaves tantalizing strips of bare skin exposed in the cool night air, but you fall asleep easily.

When you fall asleep, you realize immediately that tonight’s dream is different. You’re laying flat on something soft, and someone’s body cages you beneath theirs. You recognize the red glint of his eyes as the shadows fade away from his face. He braces himself on one arm while the other tugs at the fastening keeping your robe closed.

Mine, he whispers. His hand pauses, waiting for permission. 

Yours, you whisper back.

Once he has your consent, the restraint he’s been clinging to finally gives way to his primal instincts. He leans forward and kisses you as your robe falls open completely and you’re finally bare to him. His hands and mouth claim every inch of your body for himself. He’s gentle and slow as he explores you. The crimson eyes you once feared are molten with greedy affection for you and you alone. He makes a trail of open-mouthed kisses and small, suckled bruises across your skin.

When he's reached the edge of his control, he surges back up your body and captures your lips in another heated kiss. He slides his hand between your legs and teases the edge of your arousal. He nips gently at your skin when you bare your throat to him, and he smiles wickedly at the first soft sigh that escapes you.

He groans when you explore his chest and glide along his tapered waist until you find the hardening length grinding against your hip. His cock is hard and heavy in your hand, and he growls deep in his chest as you begin to stroke him. His fingers are relentless and you move together, stroking each other in a hot, desperate haze that threatens to consume you both.

He whispers sweet praise into your ear when you fall apart beneath him, and he gasps and moans your name when he comes too. Your hands are both stained as his release mixes with your own. The inside of your thighs are wet and sticky, and your chest heaves while you catch your breath.

He maneuvers you so he’s laying behind you. He wraps an arm possessively around your waist. It may only be a dream, but you swear you’ve never felt so good. You feel relaxed and content and your eyes slip closed.

Stay, you whisper into the strange, ethereal silence of the dreamscape. He grows still behind you for a moment, but he brushes a kiss against your bare shoulder and you know what his answer is.

Something suddenly jolts you into wakefulness. It’s still early in the morning and the sun hasn’t risen yet. You feel so warm, but you realize it’s because of a heavy weight against your back. A strong, muscular arm is draped over your waist and nimble fingers trace abstract shapes on your belly. The familiar tingle of magic and the scent of honeyed smoke surrounds you. The evidence of his desire for you still clings to your thighs, sticky and not quite dry.

“Mine?” his sleep-roughened voice rumbles behind you as he tightens his hold on your waist.

You relax deeper into his arms and smile when he nuzzles against you. “Yours.”

My Boss is My Cat

Alhaitham has the looks and the smarts. He will also be the stand-in CEO for his grandfather's company for a year.

But, he's been mysteriously cursed to turn into a cat every night since his eighteenth birthday… until he meets you, an employee at his grandfather's company, who rescues him as a cat and changes him back with one kiss.

Alhaitham/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on AO3

Female reader

Chapter One: Taken In

“Say something, Haitham!”

Like... what?

If he wants to be a good grandson, he would say yes. Yes, to taking over the company for a year while his grandfather recovers from his latest health scare. But, Alhaitham doesn't want to. He knows nothing about business; his nose is always buried in books, research, and scholarly duties at Akademiya, one of the world's most famous and internationally recognized educational institutes. He doesn't have time to… be a stand-in CEO for a rapidly-growing technology and entertainment company. What does he know about entertainment? Close to nothing. Technology, on the other hand…

"Why choose me?" Alhaitham asks rationally. "I'm not in the industry. It's not reasonable, and everyone would be suspicious."

“You’re a scholar on technology integration, aren’t you?” his grandfather asks. “What good is research if you’re not putting it to good use?”

“But—”

"I've already talked about it with the other business leaders. They know about your research, Haitham. You've spoken at business conferences and consulted companies. Every industry utilizes technology to facilitate business operations, cut costs, and more. It's time to see how we can use this in entertainment." His grandfather sternly looks at Alhaitham. "You would be a valuable asset to the company."

Alhaitham still has his doubts. But… is it his doubts or something else?

“You can’t evade positions of authority forever.”

“That’s not—”

“You rejected an opportunity for Grand Scholar at Akademiya.” His grandfather shakes his head in disappointment. “Heaven knows why…but would you not like your efforts recognized?”

“It’s the work that matters,” Alhaitham says. “Not the title.”

"A title means more responsibility!" his grandfather roars, and Kaveh almost steps back. "If you keep rejecting every leadership opportunity that comes your way, you will end up with nothing." But then, his tone softens. "Think of this as a challenge, Haitham. You'd be doing the company and yourself a favour. Would you not like to see your research being used for something good?"

Alhaitham has always been told he’s a good debater. But if there’s one person he can never convince is his grandfather. His grandfather has a point, as much as Alhaitham hates to admit it. He may dislike positions of authority, but perhaps it’s because he’s getting too comfortable. Everything seems easy, and he’s enjoying it a little too much.

“Okay," Alhaitham sighs. "I’ll do it.”

His grandfather smiles. “Wonderful! I knew you’d come to your senses, Haitham!”

Well, now he has homework to do. It's not like Alhaitham to agree to something and do it poorly. No. Now that he's taken this on, he will do everything he can to deliver results.

After Alhaitham and Kaveh leave the hospital room, Kaveh comes up beside his friend and says, “It’s not every day someone just suddenly becomes the CEO of a multi-millionaire company. Should we celebrate?”

“There’s nothing to celebrate,” Alhaitham deadpans. “It’s only for a year. And”—he sighs—“I haven’t done anything.”

Kaveh puts his hands around his head. “Yet.” Alhaitham looks at him. “You haven’t done anything… yet. You just got the job like… five minutes ago, and you’re already worrying about results! Geez, just relax for a little bit."

To this day, Alhaitham doesn't know if Kaveh's carefree nature is something to be admired. He and Kaveh are childhood friends who know each other a little too well. Both sought comfort in each other as their parents were rarely around. They were together so much that they became embroiled in dating rumours until Kaveh started dating a girl… but the relationship was short-lived. Alhaitham's grandfather raised the two as his own, and eventually, they saw each other as brothers.

When Alhaitham feels a buzz in his pocket, he takes out his phone and sees a message from his grandfather.

I’ve arranged your first appearance to be at the Best Hit Awards.

Ah, yes. The Best Hit Awards. Alhaitham may not be in the industry, but he knows all about it. His grandfather awards the recipients yearly for the best drama production and the like. It's one of the most respectable award ceremonies in the industry.

You’ll be my replacement. Dress the part.

Soon, his grandfather sends an attachment, and Alhaitham opens it to see the list of awardees this year. Curious, he scans through the list and sees a familiar drama that even he has heard about and watched in his free time despite his lack of interest in them. Then, he looks at the writer receiving the award for that show and sees… your name.

“What are you looking at?” Kaveh asks. Then, he looks over at Alhaitham’s phone and nearly grabs it out of his hand. “Wait! What is this list?” Alhaitham doesn't even have to answer as Kaveh exclaims, “Whoa! Hold up! Why do you have the awardee list?”

“I’m his replacement.”

Kaveh's jaw almost drops. "So many questions. But, first, pleeease tell me that Love in the Spotlight won something!”

Love in the Spotlight. That's the show Alhaitham watched during his free time. He watched an episode… and another… and another… until he realized it was eating too much into his time. So, he forced himself to stop.

He never imagined he would meet the woman behind the magic.

“It did,” Alhaitham says as the automatic doors slide open for the men.

Kaveh nudges him. “Hey… you wouldn’t mind a plus one, right?” Alhaitham gives him a deadpan look. “What? I just want an autograph from one of the cast!"

Alhaitham doesn't answer but walks to the car with Kaveh behind him.

On the way back to Akademiya, Kaveh turns to his friend, who looks deep in thought about something.

“Hey.” Alhaitham glances at him. “Have you told your grandfather about your problem yet?” Kaveh asks.

“Why are you bringing this up?”

"Now that you're going to be Mr. Big Shot CEO, I wouldn't be surprised if you're going to be working overtime." Kaveh smiles mischievously. "Unless you want to show up to meetings as a cat."

It's a secret that Alhaitham is prepared to take with him to the grave. It began on the night of his eighteenth birthday. A mysterious, fantasy-like transformation into a dark grey cat. Alhaitham remembers the day like it was yesterday. The sheer panic that coursed through his veins and made him attack Kaveh when they were roommates was something Alhaitham had never felt before. Kaveh was just as surprised, wondering where this mysterious cat came from, as Alhaitham had never expressed interest in getting a pet.

It wasn't until early morning the next day that Alhaitham mysteriously changed back… naked in his bed. He had hoped it was a bad dream, but it's been happening daily without any way to stop it. Kaveh had laughed a little too hard and too much but promised to keep it a secret… even from Alhaitham's grandfather, as Alhaitham didn't want to bother him when his company was taking off.

To this day, Alhaitham still hasn't found a solution. Instead, he's learned to live with it. Though Kaveh continuously suggests using it to his advantage as the grannies and the "cute girls" who walk by always want to give Alhaitham food and pets. Regardless, Alhaitham has accepted his fate, but it still remains a secret that only he and Kaveh know about.

“I’ll handle it.”

“And exactly how are you going to do that?” Kaveh asks.

Alhaitham doesn’t know, but he’ll figure something out. He always does.

◆◆◆

"I don't understand why we can't make the female lead a little more…."

“Dumb?” you ask bluntly.

You look at the male intern who recently got put onto the writing team. With the success of Love in the Spotlight, your last project, you're now leading a team of mostly rookie writers for a new project. Of course, this doesn't come without a little competition. Whoever's story proposal gets the most votes from the leadership team will be the one that gets priority and the biggest budget out of the films the company is producing this year.

While you're excited to take on this challenge and foster some great talent, you haven't been pleased with what you've been hearing, especially from this one male who seems keen on making suggestions that make the female lead lack any common sense.

“That’s not—”

“Then why would she be willing to work as his maid when she’s supposedly the top student at her school?” you challenge. “What circumstances would make her accept something like that?”

“...Desperation?” he asks quietly. “Maybe we don’t have to make her grades as good—”

“Times are changing,” you interrupt, trying to keep your temper at bay. “More and more people don’t want to see the same stereotypes over and over again. A woman doesn’t have to dumb herself down to get someone to like her.”

“Yeah, but her grades aren't the reason why he likes her! I mean… she’s helping him overcome a terrible past!”

“She’s not his mother,” you snap. “Let him overcome his trauma himself.” You look at the clock and close your laptop. “It’s almost lunchtime. Let’s get back together next week for another brainstorming session. I’m expecting better ideas.”

You stood up. Just before you walk out the door, you hear that same guy mutter, “What’s her problem? It was just an idea.”

You're waiting for your coffee at the company lounge when Childe walks into the area.

“Hey, sweet cheeks."

“Don’t make me file a sexual harassment case against you, Childe.”

He laughs and comes up beside you. “If you really wanted to, you would’ve done so by now.”

Well, that's true. You and Childe went to school together, and while he's older than you, it often feels like you're the older one with your mentality. He's always called you nicknames, so this isn't new. But, now that you work together, you'd rather keep your personal friendship at bay at work.

You pull out your phone. “You’re right. Why didn’t I do it sooner?”

Childe grabs your hand that has the phone, and you give him a deadpan look. “Okay, I’ll stop,” he says, letting go. You grab your coffee just as he asks, “So, how’s the new show coming? You’re training some new recruits, right?”

You’d rather not talk about it. “We’re still coming up with ideas.”

“Any good ones?” he asks, and you eye him suspiciously. “I’m just genuinely curious! Not working for the enemy here.”

“Are you sure?” you ask sarcastically.

He leans closer to you. “You know I’d always be on your side.”

You hold his stare for three seconds… five seconds… “Your fly’s open.”

Childe immediately looks down. You smile, grab your coffee, and walk away.

As you leave the lounge, Tighnari, your best work buddy working in the documentary department, comes up beside you.

“A coffee in the middle of the day?” he asks. “Must be a rough day.”

“You have no idea.” You take a sip of your coffee and glance at him. “How's that forest documentary with Sumeru Geographic coming along?”

“Don’t make me steal that coffee from you.”

“I heard it wasn’t that bad.”

“When you have so many opinions bouncing around,” Tighnari says, lips forming a neat line, “sometimes it can cause a bit of friction.”

“Hang in there, Nari."

Tighnari puffs out his cheeks and lets out a short breath of air. “Hangin’ in there.” As you and Tighnari turn the corner, he says, “Oh, did you hear about that stand-in CEO? They made a decision.”

It's a conversation you heard on the lips of almost everyone you passed by. But, this is news to you. The last thing you hear is that they might be grabbing someone from outside, which baffles you. But, hey, you aren't the one making the important business decisions.

“And?”

“I heard he’s hot.”

“Really?” you deadpan, glancing at him. “Out of everything that you’ve heard… you only remember that he’s hot?”

“And smart.” Tighnari glances at you. “And… he’s the grandson of the CEO.”

You almost choke on your coffee. “You’re kidding, right?”

"He has an impressive background, though."

“Well, let’s hope he lives up to expectations.”

Tighnari laughs. “It sounds like you don’t like him very much.”

You shrug. “It’s not like he’ll have anything to do with me.”

When you and Tighnari part ways, you're just about to reach your desk when you're suddenly summoned to your manager's office. You can feel it in your gut. It's not great news, and you hope you're wrong.

You knock on your manager's door before opening it. He looks at you from his large computer screen and gestures for you to sit down.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask, taking a seat.

“I wish it was good news,” he says, looking at you in mild disappointment.

Oh, great. Your hunch is right.

“There’s been a couple of complaints about your attitude during writer meetings.”

"My attitude?" you ask incredulously.

“The way you word things or give feedback to the junior writers comes off as too condescending.”

Your jaw almost drops. "I… I really had no idea they felt that way. How am I too condescending?"

“Well, when it comes to discussing ideas, you seem to have a very… strong direction of how relationships should play out between the characters.”

"Is this about what I said to the intern in the writer's room today?"

Your manager nods, his lips in a neat line. “I had to call you in because he isn’t the first to voice his opinion on your ways.”

"His ideas were too… traditional." You're fighting to sound as diplomatic as possible. "People don't like seeing a woman who has no common sense and a man who strangely falls for that because it's her 'charm.'"

"I get where you're coming from. But that's your opinion." Your manager puts his elbows on the table. "Love in the Spotlight was a success because it was different and unique. An independent woman who doesn't give up her values and ideals for a man. But there is still a market for people who want something more comedic. We wouldn't still be producing those kinds of shows if there wasn't." He has a kind look in his eyes when he says, "I'm sure you understand what I'm saying."

You know. Stop being so snappy. It’s just an idea. No need to get your panties in a knot. You wish you didn’t get so riled. But the thought of young girls mimicking the behaviour or thinking that it’s okay to lessen your worth to get a boy’s attention… it’s like an insufferable itch. Perhaps it’s because of your past experiences with men.

“I’ll watch my words next time,” you say.

“Good. I knew you’ll understand!”

“Is that all?”

“You’re dismissed.”

With your back toward your manager, you close the door on your way out.

◆◆◆

Kaveh returns to Alhaitham's apartment with a bucket of fried chicken, fries, and gravy that evening. Upon opening the door, Kaveh doesn't see his friend… but a dark gray cat sitting in front of the door.

“I… guess I was too late,” Kaveh says, shutting the door behind him. Alhaitham’s annoyed-sounding meow says it all. “Hey, it’s not my fault, though! There was traffic and a long line-up!”

Alhaitham doesn't really buy it, but what else can he do? So, he walks to his healthy cat kibble and sits in front of the bag. Then, after Kaveh finishes washing his hands, he scoops some kibble into Alhaitham's bowl.

"Maybe you should show up to your meetings as a cat," Kaveh says, putting a water bowl in front of his furry friend. "I'm sure you'll win a bunch of clients." Alhaitham looks at him. Then, as if Kaveh can read his mind, he raises his hands as if surrendering. "Okay, okay. I'll stop with the jokes."

Later in the evening, Kaveh watches a rerun of one of his favourite dramas when Alhaitham puts his paw on the front door. Kaveh looks over and asks, "You want to go out?"

Does Alhaitham have a choice? The show Kaveh is watching isn't Alhaitham's favourite, and Alhaitham has already finished his daily night reading. He had looked out the window, and the weather was quite nice. So, why not an evening stroll?

Kaveh opens the door. "Don't stay out too late. You got that?" Alhaitham walks out into the hallway. "One loop around the neighbourhood, and you're back home. Got it?"

Alhaitham and Kaveh slowly turn and see a young boy staring at Alhaitham. “Kitty!” He’s just about to run over when his mother grabs his arm. She apologizes and quickly drags her son down the hallway.

Kaveh leans against the doorway. “Well, as always, good luck out there.”

Many might consider it strange, but Alhaitham likes to people-watch. Even more so as a cat. He knows it's rude to stare as a person, but as a cat… no one cares. So he's lying casually on a stone wall, looking at the people who pass by.

The cell phone-addicted male student who's always playing the same game on his way home from school. Looks like he found another game to play today; he gets tired of things fast. The tall salaryman always wears the same white-collared shirt and black pants. It looks like he got a better watch. He must've gotten a salary increase. Maybe that's why he's standing straighter than usual. The female student who's always wearing shorts and carrying a tennis bag. Did something happen at tennis practice? She doesn't look too happy.

Then, he sees you.

That’s interesting. You're a new face in this area. Did you recently move here? Are you visiting a friend? Alhaitham’s tail swishes upwards as he watches you. You’re staring straight ahead as you talk on the phone with who Alhaitham assumes is a friend from the brief conversation he hears.

“Yeah, I’m thinking of moving out… but I haven’t decided yet,” you say.

Alhaitham watches you walk by and hops off the wall. He's so focused on you that he doesn’t see a cyclist zoom by…

You whirl around upon hearing the sound of tires screeching and one loud shout of profanity. Your eyes widen when you see an older man on the ground, the front tire of his fallen bike still spinning, and… a cat struggling to get up.

“Where the fuck did this cat come from?”

Well, this guy sure is pleasant. You immediately walk and lean toward the cat, who looks like it's in obvious pain.

“Geez,” you mutter as you gently pick it up.

“Is that cat yours?”

You look up and see the man glaring at you. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it fucking does! You should take responsibility! I almost died!”

You match his glare with one of your own. Then, you stand with the cat in your arms. “Stop being a drama queen. If you have the energy to yell at someone, you’re clearly fine.” You hear him yell something as you turn around, but it falls on deaf ears. Before you walk away, you look over your shoulder. “The cat’s not mine, by the way.”

As soon as you enter a nearby vet clinic, the receptionist looks up and asks, “Do you have an appointment?”

"Um, well, this cat got hit by a bike." You look down at the cat, who seems too comfortable in your arms. "I just want to make sure it's okay."

The receptionist comes around the counter and looks at the feline. When it touches one of its front paws, Alhaitham winces in pain.

“He doesn’t look too bad. We can do a check-up.”

So, you follow the receptionist to a back room, where a dog immediately stands and starts wagging its tail upon seeing Alhaitham. But with his one look, the dog sits down but keeps his eyes on him. You briefly explain to the veterinarian what happened before placing the feline on the table.

“Is it going to be okay?” you ask, watching the vet examine him closely.

“It’s a sprain. Nothing to be worried about.”

You pull out your phone and see a new message from your friend. It's a listing for an apartment in the area you were just in. Quite luxurious, but you could afford it with your recent salary increase.

You're looking through the details when the vet says, "There we go! All fixed up." You look up and see the cat staring at his bandaged front leg. "You keep him in excellent shape. He's well taken care of."

“Oh… um, the cat isn’t mine.”

“Oh! Is it a stray?”

Alhaitham meows and dips his head. “I suppose," you say cautiously, suspicious if the cat understood the vet's question.

“Would you like to run it for tests?”

It hits you now the possible diseases that this cat might be carrying. So, just to ease your mind on your health, you agree.

After some time, Alhaitham is back on the table, and the vet looks at you. "He's completely clean."

He looks at you. You stare back. You aren’t sure what it is, but it’s as if the feline is smiling at you. Eventually, you leave the room with the cat in your arms and are a little astonished at the bill.

As soon as you walk out, you pat the cat's head. "There goes my dinner money… for the entire week," you mutter. "And it's all because of you."

Alhaitham looks up and meows. You narrow your eyes as it looks at you like it’s smiling again.

Suddenly, thunder rumbles in the distance. You and Alhaitham look up at the darkened skies. He's still looking up when your eyes land on him. You don't want to leave him out in the cold as he's injured. But you also don't want to take someone else's cat home. You don't see a collar, and nothing indicates that he belongs to anyone.

Alhaitham looks at you and shakes its head as if reading your mind, which… creeps you out a little. You quickly look up. Nah. It's all in your imagination.

Alhaitham knows Kaveh must be worried sick… or be asleep on his couch. The second one is the likelier possibility. But, before Alhaitham knows it, you're running with him in your arms as a light rain falls. He glances up at you. What should he do? What can he do? He's a cat, for goodness sake. Alhaitham looks straight ahead, accepting his fate that he's being kidnapped or taken in by a stranger.

Well, he'll think of something. He always does.

Besides, you're cute.

Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six

End notes: I think I found my fanfic author calling as a cat-story writer.

Guess which story won the tumblr poll. Well, it's still going, but I voted on it, and it was a landslide win. Hope you enjoyed :)

Tag list: @lxry-chxn @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel