#him being a black cat makes my brain implode

[batsvnte]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘 — Blade was one who you never expected to be with. Being part of the Stellaron Hunters has its ups and downs. The first months were light for you since you were sticking with Kafka. Occasionally Sam or Silverwolf would tag along if they were needed, rarely it was Blade. You didn’t push immediately to form some sort of relationship with him. You’d rather kept at a safe distance from the swordsman till the time was ready. Which was sooner than expected.

The inner turmoil sparked within him at the beginning. His goal was directly towards death. Taking every opportunity to throw himself into battle without any repercussions. During the few days he was developing feelings, he took precautions onto what he chose to battle whenever you were near. Protecting you was one of his priorities as it was for everyone else he was around. Kafka would often point out how he seemed to be showing off at rare times.

You on the other hand had an entirely different goal than what Blade had. Only Elio knows what it was since he was the one you came to. Often you would refuse to speak on your lifelong wishes, but as far as anyone knows it’s one of the more tamer goals you had. Fighting wasn’t the main concern, but it was something else that was more off the field.

The habits with Blade started out subtle but it was beginning to become noticeable. There was a day where nobody had seen him. Not even Silverwolf. When you entered your shared room during the night, he was there. Standing there with an blank look on his face. You could’ve sworn he was there the entire day since he wasn’t part of the script. He acknowledged your presence when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eyes. And yet he stayed, wanting to be with you after being gone for so long.

Anywhere you would go, he was there somewhere within your presence. It only took a few seconds (actually three according to Kafka) before he was there by your side. He’s grown comfortable after some time to finally trust himself to be physically affectionate with you without the fear of harming you. Sometimes he would have his arm around your waist, his hand holding yours or just standing close to you to where you might lightly bump shoulders. He wasn’t the type to admit things out loud. Rather let actions speak louder for his words.

But another thing was he was silent as hell. You lost count of the amount of times he had scared you since he was silently follow you and wouldn’t warn you about anything. It’s just seems like he appears out of nowhere when he’s there the entire time. Just going out for some fresh air, he was leaning against the wall with his eyes fixated on you. Going to the kitchen for a snack, he’s already grabbing it for you when you were just looking for it a second ago.

At times you would back up and accidentally bump into him out of nowhere when you thought you were by yourself. You would ask him to at least give you some sort of sign that he was there. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t.

It rarely ends well when he comes back from mission in the middle of the night covered in blood.

#— ghouul frights #blade x reader #hsr blade #blade hsr x reader #technically red and green flags with Blade #song reference #hsr blade x reader #him being a black cat makes my brain implode #random word dump that makes no sense at all #hsr blade drabble

[kbius6]

Ranking my favorite IkeVamp guys because I'm bored and felt like it lol.

Was just gonna rank them and put what I like about them and stuff but ended up adding extra headcannon-y(?) stuff(like stuff I'd show some of them from the future lol(ADHD strikes again 🤦‍♀️) Im not changing it. Enjoy my rambling lol, or you can ignore it and just look at the pictures, your choice 😂

Im using the pet cards because they're my favorites 🖤🖤🖤

1. Charles. He is an absolutely precious baby. He made me cry. So damn much. I hate that I understand how he feels 😔 just wanting love. I just wanna hug him and comfort him and tell him how much I love him. He's so sweet, and SO kind, he deserves to be happy and loved. Imma make him watch Fruits Basket with me and listen to my favorite bands, that always makes me feel less lonely so maybe it'd help him too 🖤

Fuck it, why not rate the pets too lol.

Louis 9/10 adorable, wants attention, basically a palm sized fluffy Charles lol.

2. Dazai. Apparently the more they make me cry the more I like them 🤷‍♀️ there's just something lovable about him. He's another one I can't help but relate a lot to, and like with Charles I would 110% be showing him my favorite music, maybe it'd make him realize he's not the only one that feels like he does. Also curious what his reaction to Bungo Stray Dogs would be...hmm

Bunta 6/10 cute little bird.

3. Leonardo. This motherfucker...where to begin 😂 he like naps. I like naps. His room's a cluttered wreack. My room's a cluttered wreck. He has a black cat. I have 2 black cats. He has hobbies in basically everything. I end up with new hobbies monthly(yay ADHD) and in his route he takes the MC on a freaking boat ride. Which made me think of the most romantic scene ever(imo) from Tangled(my favorite Disney movie(which I will make him watch) and I would quite literally implode if someone ever did that with me irl. Also I love Italian food and I bet he can cook 🤤

Lumiere 10/10 I am completely biased, black cats are the best cats 🖤🖤🖤

4. Mozart. He was the first route I decided to read. Music was quite literally my first love and I actually enjoy listening to classical music, so he was a no brainer to start with. And stupidly I have a soft spot for tsunderes lol. I have the horrible urge to show him the weirdest stuff from my music playlists just to watch his head explode trying to comprhend how anyone could actually like such things 😂 also think it'd just be fun to show him how much music changes through decades and such. And Imma be nice and show him the soundtrack from Violet Evergarden(it's soooooo pretty) and Final Fantasy XV(and probably some of the other games too)

Schelm 6/10 another bird. Im not a big fan of birds but this one looks like Hedwig 🖤

5. Jean. Again, I like the tramatized ones 🤷‍♀️ I think it's adorable how innocent he actually is. Cherie is adorable, I would gladly be mauled trying to hug her(think the one scene from Black Butler, that's me) 😂 why Comte let Jean keep a freaking TIGER is beyond me but sure, okay. I would LOVE to introduce him to Disney movies(even if there's really only a few I truly love), I just feel like he'd enjoy them 🤷‍♀️ especially wanna show him Lilo & Stitch(I mean, he was reading the Ugly Duckling and that sends my brain straight to that movie okay)

Cherie 9/10 big baby kitty!!! 🖤🖤🖤

6. Vincent. Precious angel. 💛 AND HE HAS A PET RACOON. Granted being that happy all the time isn't healthy(If you were happy every day of your life you wouldn’t be a human being. You’d be a game-show host.) but he's a sweetheart and like Theo if anyone even looked at him funny I'd be yelling ever swear I know at them 😁 I already had an interest in him before I decided to download IkeVamp, I particularlly like his older paintings and eventually want a copy of his flying fox for my living room. He'd be so much fun to do arts and crafts with 💛💛💛

Brush 10/10 he's so freaking cute and the way Vincent came up with his name is adorable and never fails to make me laugh. I wish I could have a pet racoon.

7. Isaac. Another precious baby. I just wanna tell Arthur and Dazai off everytime they mess with him lol. He'd be fun to just hang out with, but with how awkward and anxious we both are(and tbh he reads as probably Autistic to me 🤷‍♀️ I might just be projecting(then again all of them have SOMETHING if we're being honest 🤷‍♀️) it probably wouldn't happen often ☹️ I hate math, but I will gladly sit and let him ramble on about it for hours because it's clear just how much he loves it. I wonder what his reaction to us landing on the moon would be. I bet he'd enjoy watching How It's Made.

Harry 8/10 he's small and spiky and so cute 🥰

8. Arthur. I hate him. But I can't deny he is stupidly charming at the same time. 🙄 but I sure as hell wouldn't be telling him that. Deep down he's an okay guy. Just a horny idiot lol. I've always liked mystery/detective stuff(I blame being raised on Scooby Doo) so I could see us bonding over that. I will be showing him bbc's Sherlock and nobody can stop me. Also I feel like he's the type that would enjoy video games 🤷‍♀️ so that could be fun

Vic 7/10 Im personally more of a cat person but I love Charles spaniels, they're just so pretty

9. Faust. He annoys the crap out of me, but in an slightly enjoyable way? If that makes sense? Lol. I feel like we'd probably be constantly seeing who could annoy the other more 😂

Mephi 7/10 absolutely adorable, but I don't like the idea of him snatching my things, I lose things enough on my own 😂

10. Theo. Another one that annoys me. I like him, and his love for his brother, while sometimes a bit too intense is endearing, I just cannot stand all the "teasing" he does. But overall he's fine. Kinda intimidating(I am easily intimidated lol) but his heart's in the right place. I bet he'd probably cry seeing how much people love his brother's art nowadays. I think it'd be cool to take him to one of those interactive art exhibts(I went to a Vincent one and it was so cool)

King 8/10 BIG PUPPER 🖤🖤🖤 the bigger the dog the more I love them and golden retrivers are just so lovable

11. Napoleon. Honestly, he just feels like the big brother type 🤷‍♀️ dk what else there really is to say lol. I would 1000% beg him to teach me sword fighting because it looks fun.

Jupiter 3/10 I have a fear of most birds that are bigger than a fist. I like where he got the name though.

12. Shakespeare. He reminds me of Loki tbh, so it's odd he'd be this low on the list but honestly, he gets on my nerves sometimes. And I always have to Google words whenever he shows up 😂 I feel like we could probably get along okay. I do have a love for drama...I'd love to expose him to musicals(I think he'd like Les Mis) and horror movies, he'd probably enjoy those too.

Puck 7/10 fluffy bunny, so cute

13. Comte. Just not really my type. I literally dk what else to say about this one. Uhm.....🤷‍♀️ he's obviously a really nice guy, sadly I like them less mentally stable than him though 🤦‍♀️ I just don't think we really have any common interest or anything 🤷‍♀️ apart from him being a vampire, I'd love to grill him for as much info as possible lol

Time 8/10 basically a long rat(I love rats) another little theif lol

14. Sebastian. I mean...he's cool I guess, but when you compare him to everyone else...🤷‍♀️ he'd defiently be fun to be friends with though. Keeping a book of things he learns while stalking observing the residents reminds me of when I used to like a certain boyband as a kid 😂 fun fact, I have a grey cat named Sebastian. And he WASN'T named after Seb from Black Butler...unlike somebody else 😂

Fraulien 8/10 cute but not exactly a favorite animal of mine 🤷‍♀️ she would still be getting cuddles though.

15. Vlad. He knows what he did to deserve being dead last 😡 He was higher up but then all the bullshit went down in Charles route and now he sucks 😤 should have known better than to trust someone who loves strawberries as much as he does(Im allergic) lol. Positives, I love his garden. And his taste in decor is just gorgeous. Im sure after I get over all the crap from Charles route we could get along okay 🤷‍♀️

Marshmello 9/10 so damn fluffy and beautiful 🤍 100% would try to steal him from Vlad to keep as my own lol. Foxes are cool.

All of them have their good and bad traits, this is just MY personal opinion. I don't really dislike any of them tbh, even if it kinda comes across that way from what I've put(even Vlad lol, Im just gonna be bitter for a good while). Feel free to add you own rankings.

In conclusion, IDK why I made this post lol. My hyperfixation took over I guess and I wanted to ramble 🤷‍♀️

#ikevamp

[wooyunhwa]

kingdom of welcome addiction | C.S.

view pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (mostly suggestive in this part though)

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: blood drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

If you had to read the words pythagorean theorem one more time, you were gonna smash your brains in. 

You reached over to your phone, unlocking your screen to the group chat. 

y/n: anyone wanna come over and help me with this dumb problem? my heads gonna implode. 

chaeyeon: busy tonight, Y/N. lol, just summon a demon or smth. 

yuri: lmao that ouija board is still there right? I think we left it under your bed 

chaeyeon: I don’t think you summon demons with a ouija board, yuri

y/n: ugh you guys are no help. brb, summoning demon...

You realized how weird this conversation would sound from an outside perspective, but it was a sort of inside joke you had within your friend group. You and your friends had joked about ‘summoning a demon’ before, and you’d even used a Oujia board a few times and done fake seances to freak each other out. The results were always disappointing—not that you ever actually wanted to contact the dead or anything, but you were at least hoping for a spooky story or something you could tell. 

You knew they were joking around, but your brain felt a little delirious from all the math churning it into mush. 

You switched tabs from your test, typing in the search bar “how to summon a demon”. You chuckled a little under your breath at the ridiculousness. But at least then you could tell your friends you actually tried. They’d get a kick out of that. 

You followed a few rabbit holes down some forums, mockingly reciting strings of incomprehensible Latin. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna commit fully. 

“You called?”

You scrambled backwards, nearly jumping a foot off the bed at the sudden unfamiliar voice echoing in the room. 

Then you saw him. 

He was perched on your bookshelf, one leg dangling lackadaisically over the edge, the other folded up at his side. You caught a glimpse of his piercing crimson-red eyes illuminated in the dim candle-lit room. He looked particularly cat-like in his position, a devilish grin painted on his face, what looked like fangs coming to two sharp points in his mouth.

The man picked up a pen from your bookshelf, twirling it in his hand casually with playful twists of his fingers. “You’re new…” he mused, glancing at you up and down. “And... cute. Fresh blood. How'd you get my number, hmm?”

You sat stunned, dizzy from confusion. Your words were lodged in your throat, unable to utter a single sound. This had to be a dream, right? Had you fallen asleep while working on your homework? It wouldn't be the first time.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the oak of the bookcase, waiting for your next move. The only words you could manage came out in a hoarse croak, shaky and uncertain. "This—I'm dreaming…" 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue tauntingly against his teeth. "Oh, there's a lot of things I could do right now to assure you you aren't," he started, the gleam in his eye particularly sinister as he drew his gaze up and down. "But trust me. You wouldn't want that." 

“Who—”

“I have a lot of names, but you can just call me San. Your friendly neighborhood demon.” He flashed a fiendish smirk. “Well, maybe don’t linger too much on the ‘friendly’ part.”

“D—demon?”

“What, you didn’t know? You’re the one who summoned me, darling.” He drew out his words, slowly, carefully, continuing to play with the pen in his fingers. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, as if he had the power to kill you at any moment. He probably did.  

He pressed his palms against the top of the shelf to hoist himself off, the books on it threatening to topple with the sudden movement. The minute he vaulted down from the shelf, you were able to get a better look at him. 

The first thing that drew your eye was his impossibly broad shoulders, accentuated by the tight cut of his shirt. It contrasted against his tiny waist, cinched in neatly with a belt. His proportions were unreal, and so very fittingly non-human. He was undoubtedly the most incredible sight you'd ever seen in your life, human or otherwise. He made his way over to the bed where you sat. You snapped your laptop closed, pushing it to the side, your blood turning to ice as he inched closer to you. The way he sauntered across the floor almost seemed like he was floating, like gravity was merely a fun game to him.  

He poised himself over you, his powerful stance alone commanding you to look at him. His fingernail dragged under your chin with a distinct sting, pulling your gaze up to his intense eyes. It was cold, like a dull knife, causing your body to tremble slightly. His piercing eye-contact was entrancing, even spell-binding—you couldn't tear your eyes away. "How cute," he teased sing-songily, “you’re a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, still pulled in by his magnetic gaze. “How did you—” 

"I can smell one from a mile away. The scent… it's just so…" he paused to lick his lips, drawing his tongue slowly over his black metal lip ring. "delicious." 

“Anyway, you must have had a reason to summon me, no? A soul to harvest? A sacrifice maybe?” Something about his tone was giddy at the idea. “At your service, darling.” He drew down in a playful bow, his mouth twitching into a smirk. 

You hated to say it, but he was entirely your type. From up close, you could see his other piercings more clearly, several earrings lining both ears, glimmering against the cartilage. His right eyebrow donned a shaved slit, decorated with another piercing. Of course the demon you summoned in your dream would be your ideal man. Well, he kind of looked like the edgy Hot-topic boy of your 7th grade self’s dreams, but you couldn’t deny that was still kind of your type still. His jet-black hair framed the sharp cut of his jaw perfectly—you were sure he could see you practically drooling over him at this point.  He looked crafted by heaven—hell?—itself.  

Even so, no single part of you desired for him to take your virginity right this second. Maybe under different circumstances, but not with the time ticking down on your math assignment and the fact that he was a fucking demon you just conjured into your room.

You shook your lewd thoughts out of your head, worried for a moment that demons might have some sort of mind-reading powers you weren’t aware of. “Well, uh, actually… I need help with my math homework.”

He snickered, his eyes trained on you like prey. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m kind of serious. It’s like 10% of my grade.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth again, breaking eye contact finally, and you felt a sense of relief as you finally had a moment to breathe away from his suffocating glare.“For someone who just summoned a demon you’re a real buzzkill.”  He perched himself on the edge of the bed, resting his butt lightly against the edge of the frame. “Fine,” he groaned. “Let’s say I actually helped you. You know how this works, right? If I do something for you, you have to give me something in return.”

You gulped. This was a dream, it had to be, and the best you could do was go along for the ride. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel shaken, despite doing your best to convince yourself it wasn’t real—like some sort of subconscious defense mechanism your body employed in danger. And, well, he kind of seemed like danger. “Like what?”

“Well, normally...” He glanced back over, pinning you down with his gaze once again. “It’d be your soul.” 

Your breath stopped in your throat. You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to give up your entire soul for 10% of your math grade, although that was a pretty accurate metaphor for your college experience. 

“Your virginity maybe?” he hummed, drawing his tongue back over his lips, then, seeing your expression, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “No? Damn. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Um… I can offer to make you dinner?”

He paused, his eyes widening for a second, then burst into a cacophony of laughter. It was the first time he broke his exterior, and for a moment, he looked a bit more human. “I’ll take it.” Then, more “but you realize a contract with a demon is binding, right?”

 “So, I’m contractually obligated to make you dinner, that’s what you’re saying?”

He paused, his smile turning amused once more. “Feisty. I like you,” he winked flirtatiously, sending heat rising in your cheeks. You hated to say it, but he was devilishly charming, on top of being probably the hottest being, human or not, you’d ever seen. 

You glanced at your phone, noting the time ticking down slowly but surely.  “Okay, I’m not joking. The math. My assignment is due in 45 minutes.” 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He sat next to your side on the bed for a while, guiding you through the problems like some sort of hot e-boy math tutor. Not that you were complaining about that. The way he sat was surprisingly cute, one leg tucked up at his side, the other folded underneath him.

“Where’d you learn math, anyway?” you asked, admiring his immaculate side profile as his eyes trained on the laptop screen, typing the answers in. “They have like, demon school or something?”

He gave you a side glance, and you once again felt uneasy under the heat of his gaze. “A demon never reveals his secrets.”

“I thought that was a magician.” 

He visibly stifled a laugh, pressing his lips tightly to avoid giving you the satisfaction of breaking his serious exterior. “Can you be quiet? I’m focusing. I’m a demon, not a mathematician. This is way out of my scope of work,” he grumbled through his teeth. 

You watched him silently as he worked. As he typed, his tongue lingered just outside his parted lips in concentration. “Even you sitting next to me is distracting,” he hissed quietly. “You don’t realize what your scent is doing to me right now.”

Right. Your virgin scent. Was that really so appealing to him? 

“Fine. I guess I’ll go make dinner. You promise you’re gonna turn this in in time?” 

“I’m contractually obligated,” he responded dryly. 

You hoisted yourself off the bed and headed to the kitchen to make dinner,  but something about leaving a stranger in your room felt strange. No stranger than accepting he was a demon, though, you supposed. 

You returned with a large plate of pasta, pretty much the only thing you had on hand. He received it apprehensively from you. 

“What?” you asked, offended at his look of disgust. “Sorry, I didn’t have any fresh human souls on hand. My bad.”  

You sat across from him on the bed, watching in fascination as he nibbled slowly at the thin spaghetti noodles. “You have any hot sauce or anything?” he asked, wincing as he took a few more bites. 

“I barely had enough pasta to feed two people. I’m a broke college student. Anyway, I never forced you to accept the dinner offer.” 

“I didn’t think it’d be so bland. What, you didn’t know demons prefer spicy food?”

“I didn’t know demons existed until today. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This is all a dream I’m going to wake up from in a bit anyway.”

A wicked smirk danced up on his lips again. “Oh, you still think it’s a dream? Cute,” he sang condescendingly. “Well, then I guess it wouldn’t matter if I did this...”  

Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as he crawled forward on his palms. You felt his breath linger on your neck first, then the gentle scrape of his pointed canines against your sensitive skin. Every hair on your body stood up. He pressed them down slightly, just enough to feel the tension on your flesh. Then he bit harder, nearly piercing as he sunk them in.

You reeled back, shoving him off you breathlessly. “What the fuck-”

“You still think it’s a dream? Then it wouldn’t matter if it sunk my teeth in. You’d just wake up, right? Isn’t that how dreams are supposed to work?” he taunted, a smile curled up on his lip. His fangs gleamed under the still-dim light of your bedroom. “Humans are so amusing,”   

You wiped at your neck, rubbing circles where his teeth pinched your skin. He sat himself upright again and stood up from the bed. “Well, my end of the deal is over. Consider you released from your contract.” 

“You’re leaving?”

“Well I’m not gonna stay here.” His hand came up to his ear like a phone. “Call me if you have a soul to harvest. You know my number.” 

He was gone before you could blink, like an apparition, disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. Your eyelids grew heavier as you reflected what had just happened, and you wondered what would happen if you fell asleep in a dream. Would you just wake up? 

You collapsed into bed, still unsure whether or not the past few hours had actually happened or not. Part of you hoped they had—there was something about him that was so deeply captivating, you would do anything to see him again. 

As he said, you did have his ‘number’.

You woke up dazed, still unsure if you had dreamt the events of the night before. The only sure way to know was to check your assignment—if you had really fallen asleep while doing your homework, you wouldn’t have turned the assignment in, right?

You opened your online class page, scanning for the assignment, and there it was, in bold letters: 

Submitted: 98%. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt two distinct emotions: relief that you got the assignment turned in, and complete disbelief that your encounter last night was not part of your imagination.

You could summon him again. 

He seemed about as harmless as a demon could seem. At first, he had been entirely intimating—his aura made it seem like he could have eaten your soul right there with no second thoughts. But watching that powerful being, capable of so much evil and chaos, do something as mundane as your math homework… that was the most entertaining, and almost adorable thing, you’d ever witnessed. 

Besides, you had something he desired, something you could dangle in front of him to keep him coming back. You had your virginity, which seemed to be the ultimate prize for a demon like him. The way he had talked about it last night, it seemed you were irresistible for him. But he also accepted your rejection so easily. 

As long as you kept drafting up meaningless contracts, he had to oblige, right? You weren’t sure exactly how it worked, but that’s how it seemed from your interactions last night. If it worked like you thought it did, his job as a demon was to make a contract with his summoner, no matter how insignificant, as long as he takes something in return. 

That night, you read the same latin phrase you had before he’d appeared, this time off a sticky note push-pinned in your wall. 

You heard him again before you saw him, and you whipped your head around to see where he was standing behind you. 

He wore the same playful, devilish smirk, displaying his fangs. “Hmm, you decided to let me harvest your soul now, have you? That was quick.”

It had barely been 24 hours, and yet you’d already forgotten how incredibly hot he was, for lack of a better word. Your lips parted slightly in awe, forgetting for a second to formulate a response. 

“I hope your silence is a yes,” he interrupted. 

You shook your attraction to him out of your head for a moment, remembering what you brought him here for. “I want you to clean my bathroom.”

He laughed in disbelief, plopping himself down on the bed. “I’m sorry, you want me to what?”

“That’s how this works right? I summon you and do what I want. And I give you something in return.” You leaned against the desk behind you. 

“What am I, your errand boy?”

“But that is how this works, right?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes,” he grumbled reluctantly. “But what do I get this time?”

“I cook you dinner again.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“I’ll let you bite my neck. Draw blood if you want.”

His eyes widened at your proposal. His reaction confirmed your suspicion—the blood of a virgin must be like crack to a demon like him. His face went flush. “Deal,” he confirmed eagerly. 

You watched him as he cleaned, and there was something satisfying about watching this bloodthirsty demon scrubbing the bathtub on his hands and knees. He almost looked a bit pathetic. You stood in the door frame, unable to help from grinning at making him perform such menial tasks. A lot more was at stake now than just dinner, so you might as well have some fun with his end of the bargain. Even on his knees, you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. Every part of him was sculpted immaculately—his appearance was distinctly human, and yet he was in all other ways otherworldly. 

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to some human’s lowly errand boy,” he hissed through his teeth. 

“Less talking, more scrubbing,” you demanded with a smirk, and he shot you a deathly glare. 

You followed through with your promise of dinner, and this time you came prepared with hot sauce. He devoured it eagerly, and you felt proud for making a dinner worthy of a demon’s praise. 

But there was still one more promise you had to follow through on, and the thought made your head spin.  

He sat across from you on the bed, eyes trained on your neck in a very un-subtle display of desire. You’d never felt so wanted, even if it was just the thought of your virgin blood that had him practically drooling. 

“You sure about this?” he asked hesitantly. It was strange that he was even asking permission, as he seemed so eager the other night to just sink his teeth right into you. 

“I’m contractually obligated,” you teased dryly. Then, more seriously, “But yes, I am.” 

He placed his left hand on your neck, steadying it in place. His fierce, almost predatory gaze washed over you completely. 

He leaned forward, parting his lips to drag his teeth gently along your neck. You tipped your head back, giving him a better angle. He teased there for a while, lingering his sharp canines on your skin. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, the warmth of it sending chills rocketing down your spine. Your lips parted slightly, gentle moans escaping at the sensation. The situation was predatory, and yet it felt completely sensual in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

He paused for a moment, lips fluttering over your skin as he spoke. “You have no idea how hard it is not to completely drain you,” he whispered, voice dripping off his tongue with a sort of lustful hunger. “I promise I’ll only take a bit.”

He sunk down, and you heard it before you felt it—the distinct sound of teeth piercing flesh. You cried out a bit, bringing your own hand to your mouth to muffle your whines. It stung a bit, but in a twisted way, there was something about it you liked. You felt his tongue draw over your wound slowly, lapping deliberately at the fresh blood like a starved animal.  

He moaned against you, and it echoed in your ear like the most divine sound you’ve ever heard. He may have been a demon, but his noises sounded like they came from heaven itself. He pulled your waist against his as he slowly bathed his tongue over the punctured flesh, his fingers squeezing as he grasped at your waist. He littered a few faint kisses across your blood-stained skin, moving slightly down towards your shoulder blades. The sudden sensation drew soft, pleasured moans from your lips. 

As he finally pulled away, parting his lips tenderly away from your skin, you caught the faintest glimmer of his blacked-out eyes before they flickered back to normal. His deep red irises sparkled like rubies as he maintained eye contact. He brought one of his hands up from your waist, gently wiping at his blood-stained lips with the back of his palm. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself for a second. Your skin tastes so sweet, like candy,” he praised softly, voice deep and wanting. “And your blood, fuck—it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

The seductive gleam in his eye signaled that you had awoken something in him, something you hadn’t meant to. He was still holding you, probably without even noticing, but you didn't want to draw his attention to it quite yet. You wanted to experience it for just a bit longer if you could. Something about the way he held your waist against his made you crave more of him. 

Almost as if a switch flipped, his expression went dark, his fingernails suddenly digging all the way into your waist. You yelped in pain as he nearly punctured the skin through your clothes. “I need you to walk away from me right now. Before I do something I’ll regret,” he growled. You watched as his eyes flashed to the same demonic black for a moment. 

You gulped, slowly backing yourself away from him, scrambling off the bed. "Farther," he groaned painfully, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. His hands clenched at the blanket on the bed, balling into restrained fists. "Now."

You ran from the room, your feet moving before you even knew where they were taking you. You ran all the way down the hallway to the front door, sliding your back down against it as you collapsed to the floor. Your limbs shook weakly, trying to calm yourself down. You must have sat there for an hour or more, completely frozen, not quite aware of the passing of time. You wiped the blood of your neck, but it didn't do much, smearing it across. 

When you managed to finally stand up again, you made your way hesitantly towards the door of the bedroom, swinging your head around the doorframe first. 

"San…?" you called apprehensively.

But he was gone, leaving only a light imprint on the sheets of the blood-stained bed and two deep punctures in your neck to remind you he was ever there.

[to be continued]

#san smut #choi san smut #yunho smut #ateez smut #san fanfic #ateez fanfic #hongjoong smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfiction

[theninjamouse]

3, 12, 40? With the shoregrillster trio? In any combination you like

3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

40. A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

This is going under a cut because one, it got hecking long and two, it got mildly SPICY. Nothing explicit but you have been warned

Parties are....they’re supposed to be at least a little fun, right?

When it was announced that Gaster’s work on a new environment friendly, cost effective and all around sick public transportation design had been accepted by the city council, there was also the call to a party to celebrate the occasion. You’re beyond happy for Gaster, for his accomplishments in finally getting more steps taken to integrate monster magic into human technology on a world changing scale.

But holy crap, this party is boring.

Calling it a party at all is being generous. It’s just an excuse for people of ‘classier’ society to act like they’re taking part in something grand and to show off how fancy they are by sipping at cocktails and standing around pretending to care about what the other party goers bring up for conversation. But it is an important part of getting full funding for the project, as well as schmoozing up to anyone who might open up lanes for future development, so here you all are.

The majority people here are humans that you don’t recognize in the slightest aside from the occasional ‘oh it’s...that guy. Yeah’. There are a handful of monsters from the science and tech division all involved on the project. They’re mostly keeping to themselves, nervously socializing as little as possible.

Sans was here at some point. You don’t doubt he’s snuck off to find a corner to snooze in, if he hasn’t left the party outright at this point.

Lucky jerk.

However, you will admit, there is an upside to this whole thing. Gaster is not usually one to dress up. At least, not in any level aside from his beloved lab coat that you highly doubt contains more than a scrap of the original material thanks to all the repairs that have had to be done on it.

He’s been talked out of the lab coat and is instead wearing an utterly dashing three piece suit of the deepest purple you’ve ever seen captured by fabric. From the distance between where you’re leaning up against a pillar to rest your feet and him being caught in a circle of engineering heads pelting him with questions, the suit looks black until he shifts and the light catches the lines of shimmering purple.

You sip appreciatively at your drink, eyes taking in the way the suit fits his skeletal frame. Perhaps the night won’t be so boring after all.

“He cleans up really good,” you muse as the air to your left grows warm. “Almost makes the feral cat fuss he made about getting in the suit worth it.”

“Says you; I had to actually drag him out of bed while you were in the shower. He actually tore holes in my sheets.” Grillby leans against the wall as well, offering you a plate of ‘fancy people food’ he snagged from one of the wandering waiters.

Ah, you were wondering about those. You take a piece, not exactly sure what the heck it even is and pop it in your mouth. Your expression twists. “How is it that rich people food always looks so good but tastes like sour air and dried regret?”

“I’m still working that out myself.” Grillby finishes off the plate and sighs.

You shift your gaze to Grillby. He too is dressed to the nines, with a deep red button up, a black and gold trimmed waistcoat and matching tie. He always looks good of course but damn if his snazzy outfit isn’t making the worst kind of butterflies flutter in your belly.

“I’ll make us something actually substantial when we get home,” he continues, oblivious to your less than pure gaze skimming over him.

“If Gaster hasn’t imploded by that point.” The poor guy is fidgeting like crazy. It’s difficult for him to be around so much noise and fuss, this you know from experience.

Grillby looks at you, gaze sharpening a bit as his eyes trail over your outfit. Said outfit for the night is a deep blue one piece, sleeveless suit dress. The smooth material hugs your frame just enough to offer a hint at the form underneath and is blanketed by a sheer capelet that rests over your bare shoulders and gathers together at your waist with a thick belt.

The intensity of Grillby’s staring sends a delightful thrill of heat up your spine. “I guess I clean up alright too,” you murmur, brows lifting teasingly.

“’Nice’ is not quite the word I’d use.” He’s moved closer, plate of food discarded and hand rising to rest rather low on your hip. “Ravishing. Tempting. Something like that.” His head has tilted down, eyes fixated on your mouth.

You pull a goofy face at him, because if you don’t, you’re pretty sure your face will burst under the growing blush in your cheeks. “That’s me, the ultimate temptation.”

He’s not deterred by your teasing. He merely glances around just enough to see if anyone is currently looking your way before his grip tightens and he presses a warm kiss to your lips. It’s soft and gentle and a smile easily comes to your face as you kiss him chastely back.

Then-oh his mouth opens, and you quite forget about your boredom and the fact that your feet are killing you and the taste of bland rich people food on your tongue because Grillby tastes so much better. Your hands rise, gripping the edges of his waistcoat, pulling him closer to you and he makes a sound deep in his throat that urges your mouth to move faster, go deeper-

A laugh rings out, clear and far too close and Grillby jumps like he’s been shocked, pulling away with an eruption of blue over his face. Both of you guiltily look over towards the noise but it would seem that it was just someone laughing at a point in conversation. No one is staring in aghast mortification at the social faux pas.

A little breathlessly, you giggle. “Wow, how scandalous of you. We’re out in the open and everything.”

He shoots you a heated look. “You kissed me back.”

“You used tongue, you cheater!”

He flushes a brighter blue, but you can’t help but notice that his hand remains firmly on your hip. This isn’t fair, stupid party, stupid crowd….

An idea sparks in your heat addled brain. A dumb idea but, well, you’re rather past the point of caring too much.

You press up closer to him again, eyes darting out over the crowd for the briefest moment. You dance your fingers up his buttons. “Why don’t we go rescue Gaster? I think we could all use a... social recharging?”

He blinks and the soft “oh” that escapes him when he realizes what you’re getting at gets your ears burning.

But he doesn’t say no. In fact, he simply nods quickly, steps back and offers you his arm, which you gratefully take. Heels suck and your ankles are not pleased with you. “You want to take the lead?”

“Absolutely,” you say with only a touch of a manic grin actually reaching your face.

Gaster looks on the verge of whipping into a ranting frenzy or throwing an actual punch as the two of you approach. The human speaking to him is going on about engine semantics or something. Incorrectly, going by the promise of violence glinting in Gaster’s eye sockets.

“Pardon me,” you say with syrupy sweetness, cutting off the man speaking. All heads turn, faces going blank with subdued irritation at the interruption. “I need to borrow the good doctor for a bit. Doctor Gaster?”

Gaster inclines his head. “Excuse me,” he says with the sincerity of a child apologizing for stealing cookies. You swap to hold onto his arm and let him sweep you out of the ballroom, Grillby following on your heels.

“You are an angel,” Gaster groans. “Those imbeciles were trying to convince me to add in ‘a profitable angle’ to the design. Pigs.”

“I think that’s an insult to pigs.” You carefully look him over. “Are you holding up okay?”

He sighs heavily, coming to a stop out in the hallway where the only person present is a coat attendant lost in a book.

“Objectively, yes” he says, rubbing at his skull. “I just wish Asgore did not insist on me staying and playing nice with these people.”

“Sounds like it’s just been a big pain.”

Grillby tugs on your arm.

“It is!” Gaster proclaims, sweeping his free arm back towards the ballroom. “Vultures! Well…most of them are, there was actually a rather fascinating young man who had his facts mixed up but the core of his idea was not a bad one—”

Grillby tugs harder.

“Mmhm,” you hum, raising your eyebrows at Grillby. Just because you can, you let your tongue dart out over your lips for the briefest of moments.

He looks as frustrated as a fire could possibly be. Were the coat attendant not glancing up over the edge of his book, he probably would have scooped the two of you up and gone to work right there.

“Uh, is something wrong?” Gaster, finally noticing the agitated flick of Grillby’s flames, looks between the two of you.

“Well, we’re both kind of…hmm, how to be nice about it…bored? Sorry,” you pat Gaster’s arm. “I know it’s your special night.”

“That’s fine, I’m quite bored myself,” Gaster says dryly.

“Oh perfect!” you chirp brightly. You glance to Grillby and smile slyly. “We had a thought about how to recharge our batteries. As it were.”

Not for the first time, Gaster displays an impressive ability to give the look of raising eyebrows without any actual, yanno, eyebrows. “Do tell?”

“It’s not really a tell so much as a show-oop!”

Grillby’s run out of patience. His hands land on both yours and Gaster’s backs, urging you forward and down the hall. The coat attendant is very pointedly Not Looking as you pass by. Grillby must have done recon or something when you first got here because he seems to know exactly where he’s heading. He takes you down a small flight of stairs and round a corner that leads to a small room that’s empty save for a few boxes stacked against one wall and some unused furniture.

And just your luck, it’s unlocked.

Going by the rising purple on Gaster’s face, he’s caught on to what exactly your ‘recharging’ idea is. “Uh-um, yes I—”

“I didn’t have much of a chance to say it earlier.” Your arm slips smoothly away from his and you turn to him. You have to lift up a bit on your tip toes and pull him down to you to press a kiss against his cheekbone. “You look very handsome tonight. And we are your dates to this thing, and yet we haven’t hardly had a chance to even talk to you.”

Gaster’s blush is now bright enough to nearly compete with Grillby’s flames.

Speaking of Grillby-

He’s moved in behind you, hands dropping to your waist as his mouth descends down on your neck. The heat of his body and fire presses against your back and you have to take a moment to catch your breath.

Gaster’s eye lights have gone wide and bright, flickering with a nervous sort of energy as his gaze darts between you and Grillby. He swallows, though he really has no need for it. “I…this isn’t really the best…what if someone sees…?”

“Then you better move fast,” you murmur. Tugging on his tie, you pull his face down closer. “Kiss me,” you demand breathlessly. “Please?”

There’s a moment where his eye lights shift in such a way it almost looks like they’ve taken on the shape of stars and then Gaster’s hands lift to your face, nearly bonking your nose with his teeth with the speed at which he kisses you. Kissing a skeleton is difficult sometimes, given his lack of lips.

But you’ve had plenty of practice.

One of your hands shifts to pull Gaster closer to you while the other desperately scrambles behind to find purchase on Grillby. His own hands are quite busy, one running gentle circles on your hip and the other moving up, closer to where your chest is pressed up against Gaster’s ribs. His fangs scrape deliciously at your skin, nipping lightly in a way that makes you squirm with a mixture of ticklishness and building heat.

Your hand finds Gaster’s spine, prominent even through his suit and you grab on just below where his ribs end. He jolts at the contact, a breathless curse falling out in a rush of air. Grillby takes the chance to pull away from your neck and captures Gaster’s attention with a heated kiss.

Now quite solidly squished between the two, a soft and breathless noise escapes you as you drink in the building pressure of their bodies, basking in the contrast of Gaster’s silk smooth suit and Grillby’s growing heat. His hands continue to work at your curves, every touch sending a searing wave of warmth over your skin, kneading with a gentle intensity that makes you arch into Gaster.

You have just enough presence of mind left to sputter, “D-don’t tear the capelet.”

He growls, low and deep and oh if that rough and wild sound from such a restrained monster doesn’t make the most embarrassing shuddery moan hum in your own throat. “Take it off then,” he suggests with a tug at the belt around your waist. 

So off it comes, fluttering down the floor, soon joined by Grillby’s more carefully folded waistcoat. Then you find yourself being pulled back, led by him to an armchair covered in a cloth. The force of him sitting makes a heavy whumph sound thanks to your added weight on his lap. 

Gaster had let the two of you slip from his grasp while the extra bits of clothing were being discarded and he watches you now with a face openly full of warm affection. When you grin and beckon at him with a finger, he huffs out a sigh that is probably meant to be taken as annoyed, but just comes off as fond and longing. 

“You two are going to get me in trouble,” he grumbles. “There is a party I’m supposed to be at right now just down the hall, or did you forget?” 

Grillby, busy at work pressing scorching kisses over your bare shoulders, pauses and lifts his head. “So eager to get back, are you?” 

“Not at all. But I’ll be missed if I stay away much longer.” 

You sigh heavily, letting your weight lean back against Grillby’s chest. You might just happen to let your hand trail down to your thigh and lightly run your fingers over the fabric there as you pout at Gaster. 

He’s broken out into a bit of a sweat. 

Sweetly, you plead, “Five more minutes?” 

He stares. He sweats. Then his hand smoothly tugs at his tie and it and his coat joins the other outwear on the ground. “Five more minutes.” 

It winds up being six minutes and forty-two seconds but well. 

Who’s counting?

#gaster #grillby #gaster/grillby/reader #grillby/reader #gaster/reader #undertale #oh boy oh boy #this got away from me #a little spice for you #i suppose i might be convinced to uh expand on this #maybe if there's enough interest #OoF extra #kissing prompts

[octoberink]

A Game Of- Part 2

She knew she was awake. Which meant she was alive. For now. Her head throbbed as her brain slowly woke up from it’s forced slumber. Her limbs felt heavy. Her entire body was sore. She remembered everything. The rats. The woods. The giant cat.

She recalled seeing the rats leave as the giant feline had ordered. She had to assume that wherever she was, it was most likely in his clutches. He was probably watching her. Waiting for her to wake up so that he could have the proper chase he wanted. To play with his food before he finally consumed her.

The thought sent shivers up her spine. She suddenly felt the need to survive. To run from this danger she had gotten herself into. The moment her ears twitched, she flinched at the zap of pain in her head. That’s right. Those cruel brutes bashed her into that brick. Twice.

She decided to try and open her eyes. She had to blink a few times to clear her blurry vision. Even then, everything felt distorted. Surreal. The way her body begged her to just rest and stay still. Her head giving her the feeling it was about to implode. And her heart returned to it’s fearful pounding against her chest.

She ignored the way her skull practically screamed when she managed to lift her head. She swayed a bit as she lifted herself up on shaky arms. Her deep blue gaze tried too hard to understand what they were seeing. It was hard to make out. She noticed a wall of fabric to her right. Cushions. They were couch cushions. She was on a massive couch. She glanced around at the enormous living room that expanded before her. It was alarming. Overwhelming at first. But she soon reconciled that she was in a new world of giant felines, after all. Such a place was to be expected.

It was dark outside of the windows. Night had arrived. How long had she been out? The room was lit by a single lamp, and a sweet-smelling candle on a bookshelf next to the window. It brought a soft, warm atmosphere to spite the fear and anxiety she was going through.

She looked down to see she was on a soft pillow. It was enormous. It must be his. At the thought of his smug grin, she felt her stomach roll with dread. She needed to get out of here. She had no idea where he was, but since he wasn’t here at the moment, this was her best shot to escape.

It took a few tries, but she managed to stand on wobbly legs before carefully sliding off of the pillow. She noticed that the floor beneath her feet was also soft. Covered neatly with a giant, thick blanket over the plush cushions. She looked around, unsure of how to leave. Her eye caught sight of a small hole in the trim at the base of one of his walls. She could get through that. No problem. But as much as she wanted to run and jump, her legs wouldn’t let her. She would take a few steps, and simply collapse on her knees as her head swam. She fought off the urge to sleep over and over. The more she did, the more nauseous she felt.

Her body was doing everything in its power to bring her to her doom.

“Stupid body,” she grumbled to herself. Frustration slowly took over the fear she was feeling. “Come on, legs. Work.”

She stood up. And immediately fell to the plush ground, once again. She gave up. She was exhausted. In pain. Afraid. This was her end. How she died. At the hands of a cat. Although, if she were honest with herself, she’d rather have it be like this than tortured for who knows how long only for the rats to kill her anyway. If she was lucky, this cat wouldn’t play with her pathetic self for too long.

She then felt the smallest trembles vibrate the couch beneath her. He was back. This was it. As scared as she was, she just wanted this to be over with. She was tired. And in no mood for his games. Please, end it quickly, she prayed to herself.

“Well, you didn’t get very far,” his voice was laced with amusement.

Her stomach dropped at the way he spoke to her. No sympathy, or concern for her exhausted state. This would be a gruesome death, she was sure of it. She heard him sigh at the same moment the entire world seemed to shake as he casually collapsed on his couch, opposite of her position.

There was a tiny pinch that greeted the end of her tail. Just as she realized what was about to occur, she felt her entire body slowly snake among the blanket beneath her before it disappeared altogether. The height was bad enough, but with the pain that traveled down her tail right to her spine was what truly startled her.

She cried out at the truly bizarre and painful sensation before his enormous face suddenly appeared. Right below her dangling body. She struggled at first, turning every-which-way to get to his fingers that snatched her up, but she knew it was completely pointless. She was hanging over her doom. Her end.

And unfortunately for her, he didn’t seem to be in a rush to eat her. He simply stared, his golden eyes observing her face and eyes. He smirked at her. “So, what’s a little pipsqueak like you doing in my woods?” he murmured. “You got a death wish or something?”

She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? He wouldn’t understand her struggle to survive. To be free. What she would do to keep her people safe. When he moved his arm to get her closer to his face, she squeezed her eyes shut. This was it. It was happening.

“Can’t you talk?” he asked.

She opened her eyes again to see him watching her closely. He cocked a brow at her silence before he hummed.

“They must’ve hit you harder than I thought,” he muttered. “Dirty rats.”

So they agreed on something. Maybe she could use that to her advantage. She nervously swallowed to give him a clear voice. “I h—” she paused to swallow again. “I h-hate them.”

His eyes suddenly lit up at her voice. She didn’t miss the way his large, black pupils dilated a bit as he brought her even closer to his face. The pain in her back was driving her crazy, causing her to struggle a little. The fear churned her gut with worry.

“Well, what do you know,” he smiled. “She can talk. So, tell me something, mousey,” he began. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you about manners?”

Manners? Where was he going with this? Was he going to do her a merciful service and not play with his food? Would he just straight-up eat her like a good-mannered kitty cat? She only continued to stare at him in confusion as he sighed with a playful roll of his eyes.

“I mean,” he shrugged, swaying her world into small circles. “Letting you sleep on my couch is one thing. But saving your life is another. From what I’ve been told, when someone does something nice for you, you say thank you.”

His voice betrayed the teasing tone of his words. He wasn’t being a hundred percent serious. But she could tell he wanted her to say something about his apparent-heroic actions. She felt her confusion melt into a sudden sense of defiance.

“Y-you want me to thank you?” she dared to ask. The look on his smug features didn’t waver. She’d had enough. She was in a ridiculous amount of pain, her head was still swimming, and it didn’t help that she was dangling and swinging over his face. Right over his mouth, in fact. She’d had enough. She wanted him to get angry. To just kill her already. “Why would I thank you for saving my life when you’re just going to eat me anyway?” she bravely raised her voice.

The moment he started laughing, the world around her harshly jerked and twirled with his convulsive movements. She closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the nausea climbing into her belly. When he finally stopped, she looked at him again to see his cheeks glow a soft shade of pink.

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Wow,” he huffed. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time, pipsqueak. Thanks for that. It felt good.” He paused, smirking at her confused expression. “Look, I may get hungry, but I’d never get that hungry.”

She felt the smallest touch of relief, but quickly pushed it away. It wasn’t time for that just yet. “Then, what?” she pressed. Her tail was going numb. “You’re just going to hunt me down and kill me for fun? Throw me up in the air, and watch me break over and over?” she couldn’t stop the words. The fear had shifted from defiance to something new. There was sorrow. A deep heartache that consumed her at how pathetic her existence seemed to this creature. How pointless and meaningless she truly was. Her words continued to overflow as much as the tears that climbed to her eyes. “You’ll just watch me die alone, and in pain? Listen to me cry and beg for mercy?”

Through the blur of her tears she caught the smallest hint of guilt in his golden stare. She reached her hands up to her face to quickly wipe them away, rubbing her eyes as her heart pounded with newfound emotions.

Helpless, she thought. I feel completely and utterly helpless.

“I’m not going to kill you, Mouse.”

She sniffled, removing her shaky hands from her eyes. His expression remained as smug as ever. But his voice had changed. It was soft. Dare she admit, a little reassuring. His gaze was glued to her as he sighed, and lifted a brow at her tears.

“I never know what I’m supposed to do when someone cries,” he went on. “So, please stop.”

She wiped away her remaining tears, feeling pathetic for showing him such weakness. She didn’t even know where all of that came from. It was a brand new feeling for her. A strong one. She tried to put her brave-face back on. “Then, w-what are you going to do to me?”

His smile widened. “Well first,” he started to move again into a seated position. “I’m going to put you down. You’re as red as a tomato.”

She looked down to see his other hand slowly rise up beneath her. He then released her tail, allowing her to plummet into his palm. She slightly struggled to sit up, feeling her back ache from being stuck in that position for so long. The strain on her tail kept it numb for a while. She looked up, feeling alarmed once again by his size. The way he loomed over her. And now she was in his hands. Still at his mercy.

She was lifted to his face so that he could get a closer look. She shied away from his intense stare, backing herself right into his fingers. They slightly curled over her as if to trap her, then bounced back to give her space.

“Now,” he began leaning forward to get comfortable. “I’ve got a few things in mind here. You clearly need protection from those dirty rats. And I could use a roommate.”

Uh oh. A roommate? She didn’t like where this was going. If he wasn’t going to kill her or eat her, then she wanted to find her people. She passed him a look that she hoped would gain his sympathy. “Mr. Cat, that’s very generous of you, but—”

“Jasper,” he corrected. Once again his tone was playful, matching the amused gleam in his golden gaze. “My name is Jasper.”

“Jasper,” she repeated. “I’m sorry. I was on my way to my people. They’re hiding from those rats, and I’m supposed to—” she stopped dead at his face. All amusement had faded. His eyes seeped sorrow and guilt. And his features even turned slightly pale. She didn’t like it at all. Something was wrong. “What?” she whispered. “What is it?”

His golden gaze looked down as he shook his head. His heavy brows furrowed in uncertainty. “After you passed out, another rat showed up to intercept the two that were after you.” His eyes met hers. And she felt her heart break in two at his next words. “He told them that the hideout had been found.”

Her heart stopped. “No...” she breathed in despair. Her mind had gone blank.

“They didn’t leave anyone alive.”

No.

“I’m sorry, Mouse.”

No!

She clutched her aching head and screamed in fury. In sorrow. In loss. It was as if her very heart had shattered in the most painful way possible. Everyone she knew was gone. They had tried so hard. They had worked for so long to finally be free. And now, they’re all gone. Just like that.

And she was alone.

Alive. But alone. She’d rather be dead than be here. Breathing and crying while everyone else was dead. She couldn’t believe it. And for a moment she wondered if this Jasper-guy was lying to her. But what could he possibly gain from doing that? And the look on his face...

No, he had been telling her the truth. She knew that. She could tell.

And she honestly should’ve seen it coming. The rats were smart. Clever. Her people never stood a chance against them. A part of her even wondered if her people were released on purpose. To let the rats hunt. To give them something to do. A challenge.

She shook her head, hoping that their deaths had been quick. That they were all together in a better place than she was. It was all she could hope for in the end. But now she had to figure out what to do with her own life. Where does she go from here? She has nothing. No one.

“Look, uh,” his voice was still soft and gentle. Cautious. “If you need a safe place to stay to process everything, I meant it when I said I could use a roommate.”

She lifted her blue eyes to him. And never once imagined in her lifetime that she would seek some sort of comfort from a cat. She could easily read the sympathy on his face as he watched her sit in his palm and grieve. She needed to figure things out. What to do from here. Where to go.

She gave him a slight nod. “Thank you, Jasper.”

Exhaustion was hitting her again. It was hard to keep her eyes open. Her head was starting to swirl with dizziness. Her head lolled forward before she finally gave in, and laid down in his warm hands. Her cheeks were still wet from her tears, and slightly rosy from being dangled. Her beating heart felt empty at the news of her people’s fate. Would she be next? Could she really trust Jasper to not kill her? Or eat her if he wanted to?

He was a cat after all. Living along here. Cats in that position were known to be easily bored, and always desperate for any kind of excitement.

But he already didn’t seem that way. He looked so relaxed to her. Calm, confident. As if being bored didn’t bother him in the slightest. Like it was something he wanted. That he was happy with. An odd thing to her at first. But she soon wondered if a little boredom was exactly what her life needed for a while.

“What’s your name, mousey?”

The way his quiet voice and warm breath gently washed over her exhausted body finally put her at ease. She mumbled a response as sleep slowly began to consume her.

“What?” he silently breathed.

“Penny,” she whispered. “My name is Penny.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

and there you have it! how Jasper and Penny officially met! these two are so fun to draw and write about!! i hope you all enjoyed this little blurb, more may be on the way, depending on how much time i have lol have a happy sunday! :D

#giant #cat #tiny #mouse #giant/tiny #short #story #part #two #thank u #art #cartoon #artists on tumblr

[thewritewolf]

After the End Chapter 13: Flower Shop

Marinette and Chat Noir talk about the future

First | Previous | Next | Last

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

It was too chilly to be standing out on the balcony alone at this time of year, and especially with how late it was. The nearly-winter air only grew more biting when the sun sank below the horizon and if you closed your eyes you could almost smell the frost on the wind.

Thankfully, Marinette was not alone.

Between her jacket, sewn by her own hand to be as warm as it was fashionable, and being tucked snuggly against Chat Noir, the cold barely even crossed her mind. It was much closer than either of them would have been comfortable with just a couple months ago, but the nights they’d spent in each other’s company had slowly but surely shifted things between them. For now, neither of them wanted to examine those changed feelings too closely.

Instead, Marinette wanted answers to a different set of questions entirely.

“What are your plans for the future?”

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

The yellow tape with the words in all capital letters ‘CONDEMNED’ disintegrated into black ash along with the rest of the door. Chat Noir pulled back his hand, glanced around at the empty side street, and drifted inside noiselessly.

Finding this place had taken some ingenuity on his part - Marinette may have gotten his brain jogging, but there were a lot of options in the city. In the end, though, all he needed to do was find the ones that had been abandoned since at least the fall of Hawkmoth.

Taking a deep breath of the dusty, stale air that carried a hint of rot to it, Chat Noir knew that this place fit that description to a t.

Chat Noir blended into the shadows and began to search through the wreckage.

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

“I don’t know,” Chat said with a shrug. “Right now, I’m just focusing on my hero duties. There’s still a mystery that needs solving.”

“I mean, yeah, but don’t you have a life outside of this?” She ran a finger along the edge of his mask for a moment. “You’ve got to have a plan once everything on that side of it is resolved, right?”

“What’s your plan then?” He leaned on the balcony rail and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Simple - I’m going to build a new fashion empire. After the Agreste brand imploded, there is space for something new to flourish.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Chat shook his head, staring off into the distance. “With everything that came to light after Hawkmoth got unmasked, it looks like they had it coming.”

A wave of anger washed over Marinette. She put a hand on her hip and jabbed a finger at Chat. “Listen. There was only one bad Agreste and I’m grateful for how you and Ladybug took him down, but the rest…”

She let go of Chat’s chin as the anger abated. All she was left with was a cold pit in her stomach, old doubts resurfacing as the memories of the days and weeks following the unmasking replayed in her mind. Was there anything else she could have done? Would Adrien still be in Paris, safe and happy with them, if she had done better?

“They were victims like everyone else.”

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

Even with his gentle footfalls, debris still crunched under his feet. Something about it tickled at the back of his mind. The devastation around him seemed almost… familiar.

Destruction was something of a specialty of his, after all. He’d seen cataclysm get used on countless objects and substances over the course of his years being Chat Noir. But it didn’t look like anything that the miraculous had done - there wasn’t enough ash and black decay for that. Then it suddenly hit him as he lifted a piece of wood that looked like it had vibrated apart.

His miraculous hadn’t inflicted this damage - this was the doing of the butterfly. Specifically, a sonic-based akuma back in January. That one was rough, with large swaths of the city getting screamed apart. But the miraculous cure had put everything back to normal, same as it always did.

So why hadn’t this place?

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

“There’s plenty of options for you!”

“You don’t know that much about me, Marinette,” Chat replied with a sad smile. “How can you possibly know what would make a good fit for me?”

“I don’t need to know what your face looks like to know something that fits your personality.” She snorted. “Well, except for modeling, but what would you model? Leather? Cat ears?”

“Yeah. Me, a model? Ridiculous.”

“Don’t worry, there’s lots of other stuff for you.” She took a theatrical few steps back, made a square with her fingers that she surrounded him with, and closed one eye. “How about… Chat Noir the circus clown!”

Chat laughed. “Oh, so you’re saying you always secretly liked my pun, huh? Then I’ve got a few more for you…”

“Oh right, you’ve got to actually be funny to be a clown.” She stuck her tongue out playfully to take the bite out of her words. “My bad.”

“Clown’s out then - what else you got?”

“Teacher? You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“Eh, maybe. I like kids but I’ve never been much of an authority figure.” He whispered to her conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Ladybug, but I’m actually a big rebel. Sometimes I stay up a whole hour past my bed time.”

“Wow, next you’ll tell me you don’t even look both ways before crossing the street.”

“Of course I do, I’m an anarchist, not stupid.”

“Which brings me to my next Chat career - counsellor. Like helping people work through their problems?”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah…” she tapped his nose, making him blink. “I can tell those eyes have seen a lot. And yet, you’ve come through it. Maybe you can use what you’ve learned to help people?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else?”

“Well… and this one is a bit out there, but… How about opening a flower shop? You’ve always been such a romantic and- Chat? Are you okay?”

He had suddenly gone very stiff, his eyes widening as he took in a sharp breath. It seemed to pass quickly, suddenly replaced with a manic energy as his hand darted for his baton.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go! I just had an idea!”

“Wait, Chat-!”

But it was too late. He’d leapt off the balcony and gone running off into the night.

Marinette was left to wonder - did he really have an idea, or had she made him uncomfortable? Did thinking of the future really upset him so much?

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

Whoever had been here before must have left in a hurry and never come back, Chat Noir thought as he passed rows of decayed flower beds. Little was left of the beautiful plants except for gnarled twigs and rotten petals. It wasn’t what he was here for, but it did give him some hope that maybe, just maybe, the Gentlemen had forgotten something here.

If they had ever been here in the first place, that is.

Chat Noir stepped into the backroom of the former flowershop. The rubble that might have given a civilian difficulties yielded to super human strength and the slightest touch of Cataclysm. There, he found a small filing cabinet marked with the store’s name - Boutonnière Noir.

While he was grabbing what few files remained, intending to pour over them back at the mansion, the gleam of something metallic caught his eye at the bottom of the cabinet. Reaching in, he pulled out a badge that just barely fit in the palm of his hand. It had no words, but he knew in his heart that it was the symbol of the Gentlemen - a man with a top hat, a fanged smile, and a finger held up like a hush.

After one last look over the husk of the Boutonnière Noir, Chat Noir left with his spoils.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Marichat #MarichatMay2021 #ml fanfiction #my writing #After the End

[jangofctts]

Tough Luck (Boba Fett x reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Smut, violence, language, dry humping,  oral (m), sex with binders, vaginal fingering, mildly dubious consent, mild cumplay, more sexual favors (jfc), vaginal sex, consensual loss of virginity, 

Chapter (1)

a/n: howdy hey bucket fuckers. welcome to the second chapter!!! thank you so much for ms. @bobafctts​ for helping me THOT and help with the process of this bad boy in addition to @djxrxn​ whom ALSO encourages all these DISguSTAnG thots. love you, whores 🤠💖❤️ 

It’s a grueling ride to Coruscant. Even with a midway stop to refuel, it takes more than a couple weeks to arrive. 

You wish Boba Fett had thrown you into the carbon freezer. 

It’s...boring down here. 

The bounty hunter had left you alone, preferring to lock himself away inside the cockpit. Not like you’d want him anywhere but there, that is. He’s not some circus clown meant to entertain an impartial audience—you’re his quarry. A quarry worth a quarter million credits.   

The rare occasion you do see him is humiliating as is. Monitored refresher brakes and the singular hellacious shower incident. True, all he had done was wrestle your kicking and screaming self into the little cubicle then proceed to lock you in—and yet…Never in the entirety of your existence had you encountered anything more glacial than that water.  

Stars—you swear he has a direct pipeline to Hoth. 

With fingers frozen and teeth chattering so hard they rattled your skull, you made quick work of scrubbing at your hair and body. It’s a miracle you survived certain death by hypothermia, even more so you haven’t caught a cold in the following hours.   

There are limited chances to protest and rebel, close to zero in fact. He’s proven to be stronger on more than one occasion, man-handling and knocking you around like some squeaky toy left to be chewed on for some oversized loth-cat. 

He’s taken away the sole thing you’ve craved since coming aboard this ship; ripped it from your fingers and shattered it upon a duracrete floor. You’ve never chosen the petty undertaking after flustered nerves and lost arguments in life; it festers and twists into malice like a weight over your chest. But you’re no longer there. 

Here, after the first meal bar landed in your lap, you surrendered your pride and tore into that idle act of revenge.     

The meal bars thrown at your feet now begin to pile up; the one small defiance you can spare. It’s either this or throw your head against the wall until you pass out. Tragically and against your own volition, the imagery your brain provides for it forms a bubble of unease in the pit of your stomach. The sight of your own blood makes you queasy anyhow.   

It’s not ideal. You’re knifing hungry, but your act of defiance works. Faster than you’d originally thought as the second sleep cycle rolls around. 

Boba Fett’s spurs chink against the front of his boots, the glare of the shiny metal catching against the dim lighting. He doesn’t carry a meal bar this time. Instead all he brings is an ion storm filled with buzzing irritation you can feel crackle against your skin. Your eyes sweep up his figure as he plants himself before you, his head tipped down to meet your half-hearted glare.    

With a long sigh, squats and lifts up one the meal bars, the shiny wrapper crinkling under the pressure as he points it in your direction. “I’m not interested in delivering a corpse.”

“I’m not hungry,” you quip, turning your head to glower into the murky darkness of the ship. 

You jump, a pitiful squeak escaping your vocal cords as he throws the bar at your feet and lunges. His hand clamps around the binders, the roar of your heart deafening against your eardrums as he yanks you in close. 

“What is it you want?” He snarls, “A deal?”  

“I see how you treat your deals,” you bite back, straining against his grip. “You’re a liar and a cheat.” 

Boba wrenches you forward, the tip of your nose skimming the edge of the tinted visor from how close he leans in. “Careful, Rabbit. If I recall correctly, you offered me a favor not a contract.”

Despite the inky blackness of the visor, you could easily mistake it with the intensity of a dying star. You’re caught in that same familiar, lecherous pull from before. It feels wrong to be brought so close; like dancing over the serrated edge of a blade, not meant for a mortal soul to be wandering along.  

“I’ll ask again.” He states, the leather squeaking as his fingers clench tighter. “What is it you want?”

There’s no bargaining for a merciful death. You’ve seen how that would play out. All your cards are exhausted and spent and the only thing you’re left to bargain for are simple accommodation before you’re appointment with a firing squad.   

“No more binders. At least for more than a couple hours.” You rush out, afraid if you don’t speak with haste he’ll cut you off. “And...and I want a blanket. It’s—it’s cold.” 

He considers this, each second like a poorly wired hyperdrive—seconds from imploding. You let out a shaky breath as you catch the near imperceptible nod. “Is that all?” 

“Yes...I-I think.” 

He snorts. “You think? What else do you require, Rabbit?” 

You ignore the sarcasm dripping through the syllables like melted sugar. Be it intimidation or your own hormones betraying your rational mind, your eyes dip down. You curse yourself for his perceptiveness. 

It comes with the job you suppose. No one becomes the best bounty hunter in the parsec using untrained eyes.  

“You know, girl,” he chuckles, a gravelly rasp against the vocoder. “I could...return the favor.”

If you had it your way, wielding an iron grip of control on your own body, you’d stop the tidal wave of crackling arousal from licking at your heels and settling in the pit of your stomach. It’s a rush of electricity guilt yet you’re able to reign in your tongue and speak; as shaky and unsure as it is.  “What makes you think I want anything more to do with you?”

“There’s no harm changing your mind,” he says. Boba cocks his head to the side and rocks forward, capturing and twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. “As you said—you’ll die soon anyhow.”

With a goading tug on your hair he sits up, the tinkle of his spurs filling the space as he saunters a couple paces away. He smooths a hand over a large cargo crate, the leather glove rasping against the wood and with a sigh, he sits. He settles his back against it, your eyes not once leaving his figure, entranced by each subtle movement and swish of his cloak that bunches beneath him.  

“Come claim your favor, Rabbit,” Boba purrs, crossing his legs and leaning further into the cargo crate. He’s awfully nonchalant—like a loth-cat furled out in the sun. Though you know, behind the undisturbed facade, one wrong move and he’ll pounce; sink those razor sharp talons into exposed flesh.   

“Anything?” 

If you could see his eyes, you imagine he’d be rolling them. He pats his thigh. “Why don’t you sit on my lap and then we’ll talk.”

You don’t think about the fact that this is worse than before. That you’re letting yourself clamber over his crossed legs and into his lap. You hate that the crackling fire, greedy and dark, burns through your core as if it had never had a taste of pleasure before.  

His hands skim up your thighs, covered and impersonal. You don’t let that kernel of disappointment wiggle into your thoughts—it’s bad enough you’re here. In spite of this, you think, fuck it. You might as well. Your life is such a shit show anyhow might as well indulge.   

You hiss in surprise as your crotch meets the unforgiving metal codpiece. “Take it off?” 

“You take it off, Rabbit.”

Your teeth clamp down into the inside of your cheek. Bastard. Cocky, smug, asshole—

The list could go on forever and despite the irritation snapping inside your chest like a cut wire, your fingers find the latches to the dark green codpiece. You’re rough taking the blasted thing off, delighting in the bounty hunter’s little chagrined grunt as you tug and pull without much caution. 

“Careful.” 

You shoot the best glare you can muster and stick your tongue out, jolting as his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass in retaliation. With a clatter the codpiece falls off; the thick swell of his cock creating an attractive line against the white fabric. 

The same trepidation returns. You’re digging your own grave here, shoveling through dirt and tough layers of gravel in order to toss yourself in. It shouldn’t be this easy to convince yourself to fall into those greedy claws of arousal.

“Well?” Boba challenges, snaking a hand around the swell of your waist. “Get moving before I change my mind.” 

“What do you suggest I do then?” You snip, exasperated by his indignant shrug. 

With a low hum he anchors his hold over your hips and yanks you further over his crotch. “You could be a good girl and get yourself off.”

You swallow, chewing on the edge of your lip. “Like this? Nothing else?” 

“I don’t know, Rabbit,” he sighs, “but it feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Before you can ask, he rolls his hips up, pressing the firmness of his cock against your covered cunt. You gasp and rock into him, a hand shooting out to grab at his shoulder pauldron. His snort of amusement only encourages your spiral into madness as he allows you to set your own pace; a timid and shallow undulation of you hips that only serves to amp up the craving and not sate it in the slightest.    

Stars, it’s hard to think like this. Every spark of pleasure is a catalyst to the inferno that tears through the fabrics of your being. It’s an effortless process to forget who you’re using to get off; easy to tumble into that pit of pleasure with each buck of your hips.      

Your cries are harsh, an incoherent string of curses and his name all thrown into one. Fuck—it’s blinding. The catch and pull of the fabric against your clit and the hardness of his cock that presses against your inner thigh; pitching quite an impressive tent in those creamy white trousers. 

It rushes up, searing and white-hot that’s got your whole figure into stiffening and catapulting into bliss. With a groan your head dips onto his shoulder, the scent of plasma and an undercurrent of smoke lingering on the fabric of his cowl. Your hips still rock into his lap, riding out the last dregs of pleasure. 

In retrospect you should have known. Deduced that this favor claimed as yours would shift into something completely his. He’s never satisfied with the terms unless he gets the larger cut. 

Just as your hips begin to slow, he readjusts his grip and grinds his straining cock against your sensitive pussy.     

Boba’s hands, one cradling your spine while the other clamps down over you ass is an anchor so unyielding it’d take a ship cutter to brake; he’s heaving your body into they jerky and erratic roll of his hips, too far gone to care about technique or poise. Just a means to an end—desperate for release. His breathy grunts reverberate through the vocoder, near deafening this close to your ear as the hand resting between your shoulder blades, latches onto the back of your neck. 

If not for the intensity of your orgasm, devastating and still wracking through your body in tiny jolts of lingering pleasure, you’d have fought his hold. Instead, you allow Boba to urge you forward, the cool metal a shocking contrast against your forehead in comparison to your flushed state. His own head is bowed against yours, playing into that foreign sense of intimacy as he finds his release. 

With a stuttered groan, his fingers harpoon into your flesh and cums. 

His chest heaves, fervent gulps of air harsh and distorted by the vocoder as he winds down from his high. You’re no better; your breath fans across the visor, the humidity painting a foggy layer of perspiration over the visor as your body still quivers with the aftershocks of pleasure. He’s the first one to part; jerks his head away as if you've burned him.   

In the following seconds, it’s as if your eyes are glued to that visor. There’s no telling wether you’re moments away from being slaughtered or allowed to sustain this little charade he’s put you through.    

“Oh, Rabbit…” A shiver tears down your spine as he glances between your bodies. There’s a wet patch, the fabric dampened by both your combined releases staining the front of his trousers. “What a waste.” 

You gasp as his hand curls around the column of your throat, your cunt clenching as the pressure tightens. With once last, teasing squeeze his fingers move to tangle into your hair. “Clean up your mess.” 

With a not so gentle yank on the strands you’re coerced into clambering off Boba’s lap. He guides your head forward, uncrossing his muscled legs to let you crawl up and settle between his thighs.     

Your hand quivers, somehow able to pop open the button and pull down the wet fabric. Smeared globs of his release stain the soft, dark skin, his cock still thick and swollen even after orgasm. Your tongue passes over your bottom lip as you lean in, a new, fresh wave of arousal carving through your frame. 

The taste isn’t horrid, still warm and mildly salty as you tongue laves at the crease of his thigh. Your tongue leaves a wet trail of saliva down to his balls, the skin velvety soft against your mouth. Boba jerks as you suckle them into the wet heat of you mouth, carefully swirling your tongue over them then tracing up to his softening cock. He grunts as you lick along his shaft, the flesh twitching as you lap up the rest of the sticky substance.   

Boba’s hand nudges at your forehead, then shifts and maneuvers himself out of your hold. Not a word is spoken as he pulls up his trousers and thumbs the button closed. He snatches up the codpiece laying pathetically on the ground and reattaches it around his groin. 

You don’t mean to flinch as he dips down—force of habit—even if all he does is reach for one of the abandoned meal bars. He pushes it into your hand; no room for arguments and perches himself against the cargo crate, one ankle crossed over the other as his arms fold over his cuirass. He dips his head, the message loud and clear to hold up your end of the deal. 

“You don't have to watch me eat,” you mutter, biting off the corner of the foil with your teeth to open it. You roll a piece of the pasty food into a crumbly ball between your fingertips then pop it into your mouth. You grimace at the taste. Bland. A bit like dirt. 

Except…dirt has flavor. 

Not to mention the fact that he won’t stop staring. Tracking every move—unsettling and curbing your appetite into a mess of anxious knots. You don’t like being analyzed and monitored like an ill-tempered child. It’s a long shot to ask and receive an answer, but you’re desperate for anything to fill the silence.  

“How did…um…you find me?” 

Kriff, you can’t even ask about anything normal, can you?

Boba cocks his head to the side, letting that unnerving quiet draw out until you’re sure he won’t respond. And then; “People leave trails. Even you, clever rabbit”

You force yourself to choke down another bite of the bar. “What was my trail then?”

You’re split between the desire to know what you did to ensure your capture while battling your queasy surprise that he’s chosen to indulge your questionings. “The pilot.”

A knife of dread, so sharp and swift it cuts through the layers of cartilage and bone; the blade lodging itself into your heart. “W-what?” 

“The Imperial one.”

Elliria Beren. Elli— 

No. No—that’s…he’s toying with you.  

Dantooine is the last place you saw her. Alive. Wild, auburn hair blown from her braids caused by the windstorm that swept up through the grassy plains; the clouds, colossal and dark, swallowed up the sun as they rolled across the horizon. Her flight suit was hastily thrown on, rumpled and against regulations in the rush to help you. She told you to run—stole the TIE fighter to give you one last, undeserved chance. 

It feels like a broken promise stapled to the roof of your mouth as your mind dregs up the remnants of that day. She’d thrown her arms around you, crushing you to her chest, smelling like oncoming rain, and that contraband perfume she’d bought on Alderaan; a delicate sweetness you can hardly remember.

With Elliria, there was no fear; cradled in her arms and severed off from the world. There, you've done nothing wrong, you are not being chased by some relentless terror. You could sleep inside that moment. You could live inside that string of seconds. It would be fine. It would be perfect. You could escape and mend you fragmented heart strings. 

But you’re not there. 

You’re here. 

Here on a bounty hunter’s ship. Here there is fear. There is great sorrow. There is a litany of sins and a throng of terrors devouring at your soul. You led her straight to her death. Right into the very jaws of the man who sits before you. You hadn’t even considered she’d be caught.   

Your stomach churns and coils as bile pricks at your throat. What have you done.  

“I found her on Tatooine,” Boba continues, either enjoying your obvious horror or unabashedly oblivious.

No. Stop fucking talking. You bite back a choked sob as he raises a finger, tracing it across his cuirass. There—alongside the braided pieces of hair mounted as trophies, sits a red and blue ribbon. How haven’t you seen it before? You were there when Elli was awarded the Imperial Medal of Valor—it’d been the first time you’d seen her smile in months.  

And now…now it hangs upon the pauldron of a bounty hunter as a conquest won. “She was a good shot—but I was better.” 

Your chest is a wall of fire; the air you breath constricted and hot as your throat mimics that of a too tight collar on a fancy suit. You don’t care that stinging tears spring from your eyes and carve burning paths down your cheeks. Grief and wrath spin inside your chest with the fierceness of a vortex all-consuming. You shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have forced his hand into revealing that all you ever do is leave a wake of destruction behind you. 

The abrupt, sharp, buzz throughout the ship slices through your despair. The comm system is flashing, attempting to patch in a call. The moment he stands, your mind races with plots of vengeance. You have nothing but your fists, your sharp teeth and bitten off nails. You don’t care. 

He turns his back, his cloak rasping against the floor. 

A momentary lapse in judgment on his part to leave himself vulnerable to a quarry free from their binders. 

With a cry you launch yourself across the small space, hooking your arms around his neck. He shouts out a curse, the weight of your body causing his own to pitch backwards. All air punches out of your lungs as the back of your head cracks against the ground, the full weight of beskar platting slamming into your chest and stomach. 

Your hold around his vulnerable throat loosens, giving him more than enough wiggle room to spring up. Your fist snaps out, the skin over your knuckles splitting open as it connects with the sharp edges of his helmet. He scrabbles to contain your flailing hands, eventually ensnaring your writs between his fingers with ease. 

Bucking your hips and kicking your legs out does nothing to save you from Boba wrestling you onto your stomach, straddling your thrashing body, wrench up your arms, and snap out a new pair of binders. Boba snarls as your elbow manages to stab into a vulnerable gap in his armor, forcing him to throw his entire weight over you. 

You don’t mean to slam the side of your face into his helmet—hurts you more than it would ever him. But it’s satisfying to feel him jerk and hiss out a curse.

“Stop this.” He barks, digging his forearm harder into the flesh of your shoulders. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

The blooming mark forming over your left eye socket is proof enough. The most damage, if any, would show up as bruise from where his own beskar had brutalized the skin or where your elbow had connected on his ribs.  

You want to fight—tear into his flesh until he feels even an ounce of the kind of pain he’s caused. Instead, he chooses something different.    

“I’m sorry about your friend.”  

Friend doesn’t sound right. And lover too bold. Feels overly simplistic; shallow to what you had with Elli. Like glossing over a three hundred page holonovel. “I hate you.”    

There’s no malice, no gloating. Just...sincerity. “Truly, I am.”  

You don’t know what’s worse; the fact that there’s nothing to latch onto, bare your teeth and spit out words more jagged than broken glass or if it’s the hollow void that carves out the cavity in your chest. The frigid vacancy that follows after a forest burns; charred skeletons of a once lush forest. Everything in your life has been burned, flipped and torn inside out more than you care to think about. 

Stuck in that strange limbo between the devouring vortex of agony and revenge. Flirting with dull edged apathy that blankets the pain with buzzing static. 

You choose the latter. 

It’s easier.  

It’s not fair Elli is dead. But there’s nothing you can do to change what happened. 

Some of that pressure bearing down on your spine eases as your body goes lax. You’re not sure how much time ticks away as you lie there against the dirty floor. Enough time to count the screws connecting the durasteel walls and the individual planks making up a cargo crate. You don’t care that Boba Fett continues to maintain his precarious position seated on your thighs, or the inquisitive touch between your shoulder blades. He isn’t the one to hate in this situation. You are. 

That gentle, uncharacteristic touch smooths down the line of your spine, disappearing once it reaches your bound hands. 

“You’re such a tiny creature...” You don’t think it’s meant for your ears, more of an observation he lets slip than a conversation starter. Regardless, it sends a shiver from the base of your skull and down. 

With a curious hum, Boba shifts, slotting his hips against your ass. The added weight is uncomfortable, it digs your hip bones into the durasteel flooring. Yet, unlike the beskar codpiece supposed to be strapped to his groin, all you can feel is a different sort of hardness present.

“There’s still fight in you yet, Rabbit.” 

Your fingers curl into fists so tight the bite of your fingernails leave crescent shaped indents. His hands smooth along the waistband of your trousers, the soft leather tickling the sliver of exposed skin where you shirt became rumpled. “Does that surprise you?” 

He huffs. “No. But you could put it to better use instead of attacking me.”  

“Like what? Fucking you?” Bitter resentment builds like ash over you tongue, even if the idea of it sends a charged volt of interest down to your lower belly. 

Boba’s fingers crawl down your thighs. “I didn’t say that, but if you insist.”  

You scoff and wriggle. “You’re deplorable.” 

“Is that a yes, Rabbit?”

Maybe, you think as you nod your head, this will fill that torn void with temporary gratification. Steal away your thoughts and loose yourself something akin to the mind numbing affects of alcohol. 

Boba hums in acknowledgment, hooks his fingers around the elastic and yanks down, underwear included. You can feel the weight of his stare wracking down the newly exposed skin, pliable and wanton—and all for him. 

You squeak as he takes two, plentiful handfuls of your ass, spreading and massaging the flesh. It’s as if the only reason he exists is to torment you. Pull from you the embarrassed flushes and ashamed squeaks. You’re relieved once he retreats.   

Though it’s not a moment later his hands are back over you. Gloveless. It’s a shock to your system feeling the scrape of calloused fingertips trail over the curve of your spine. A curious touch, one unfamiliar with the softness of skin, yet the fleeting presses rapidly turn into the only thing he knows. 

Your sharp inhale echoes into the ship as his fingers trail down the slit of your cunt, gliding through the slick, already leaking from your core, with ease. You jolt as his fingertip catches against the tiny bundle of nerves, the pressure teasing and light. Never enough to satisfy, just a cruel reminder just how easy it is to get you worked up. With a muted whimper, your hips twitch, silently begging for anything more. Anything to fill your clenching cunt.  

He obliges with a smug chuckle, lazily pushing a finger into the ring of velvety muscle. You whine as he slips in another digit, scissoring and shallowly thrusting in out, thoroughly coating his hand with your arousal. Just as the buzzing strings of pleasure begin to build up, he extracts them. Frustration pierces through your sternum, your teeth clamping down over your tongue in order to quell your irritation.  

There’s a rustle of fabric and a harsh inhale from the man behind you as he closes the space between you. Your pussy clenches as the tip of him touches against your clit, the flesh searing and painfully hard. You shudder and exhale a long, stuttered breath.    

“I can tell you haven’t been fucked right,” he purrs, dragging the flushed head of his cock through your folds. “Why don’t we fix that?” 

Boba gives your thigh a swat and shifts, ready to align himself and sink into your clenching core. That heavy haze of pleasure is abruptly yanked out from beneath your feet, panic piercing through your heart with an alarming jolt. You seize up and jerk away. 

“W-wait!” You gasp, hands wiggling against the binders. “I-I...uhm—“

“Don’t tell me you haven’t done this before, Rabbit.” He thinks it’s a joke. It is a bit silly considering the circumstances—yet here you are. Bent over and telling Boba Fett you're a kriffing virgin.  

Your shamed silence and the heated flush that follows answers his question with crystalline clarity. 

“You’re serious.” 

“I’ve never been fucked, ok?”  Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a long exhale. “I just...never…”

Your piss-poor explanation tapers off into a gaping fissure of terse silence. Maker, you should just throw yourself into a trash compactor—  

“I can change that,” he offers, trailing his palm over the globe of your ass. “If you’d like.” 

You swallow. Maybe in a different version of reality you’d consider a better option, but fuck it. You’re already here. “O-ok.”

“As you wish, Rabbit,” Boba complies. If not for the helmet you’re sure you’d see a smile curl across his face. “Just know—I don’t do gentle.”

You would never expect him to. Whatever civilized temperament he holds in not saved for anything but hunting and aiming a blaster. You tense as your walls begin to stretch and accept the tip of his cock—alarm bells blare inside your head, terrified that it won’t fit. His hand smooths over your hip as he encourages you to relax, let him sink in the rest of the way. His fingers find your clit, rubbing jerky patterns into the nerves as your cunt flutters and stitches wider for him. The sharp outline of his hips touch your ass, a sharp hiss of breath crackling out of the vocoder as he finally bottoms out. 

You’re so achingly full. No amount of fingers thrust up inside your cunt could compare to what you feel in this exact moment. Simultaneously split open and burning with white hot ecstasy with each involuntary jerk from the man inside you. There’s a minuscule pinch and ache as he pulls his hips back, the drag of his cock catching against each ridge and fold as you clench around him. 

“Fuck,” Boba swears, sheathing himself back inside with a forceful thrust. You squeak and pull against the binders. “You take it well.” 

There’s not much time between your next inhale and his hands anchoring around your hips, before he sets the pace; harsh and unyielding. Just as he promised, there is no buildup, just the violent roll and abrasive push inside you.  

There’s no time to familiarize yourself with this newfound sensation, just a frightening buildup that seizes you by surprise. It begins in belly, spreading through your bloodstream like the most virile poison. With another, devastating, surge of his cock into your pussy, you’re cast into that gaping bit of burning pleasure. 

Your vision whites out, your body arching and stiffening as you cry out. The fact that you’re squeezed so, fucking tight around him, holds no hinderance to his pace. Just encourages him to go faster. There’s no mercy as he fucks you through orgasm, overworking those sensitive nerves and pushing them past your limit.

With a hiss of air the binders fall to the ground with a clatter; the noise barely heard in comparison to your stuttered cries and the obscene sounds of his cock burying itself into your cunt. Your shoulders burn as your hands slip beneath you, shaky and unsure of themselves, stabilizing yourself against the greedy pull of his hands.  

The rough callous of his palm sweeps up your back and forms a fist in your hair, urging your spine to arch as his thrusts take on a sharper rhythm.

Your core is a mess of knots, pulled tight and more pressurized than a airlock. Your nails scrabble against the metal flooring, your knees rubbed raw from the vicious momentum he’s achieving. Fuck—this should’ve been your favor from the very start.

Those burning nerves, flooded with acute overstimulation, throws your body off that haphazard edge of another scorching orgasm. One that drags it’s sharpened nails down the curve of your spine, all the way done to your toes. 

“Fuck—fuck you’re tight,” he snarls, his hands squeezing your hips with vicious strength. “Keep squeezing me like that, Rabbit—good girl.”

The top half of you buckles under the weight of ecstasy, weakened and unbothered by the new angle; his cock reaching deep. Your fluttering cunt and the high-pitched whines of his name are it takes for him to reach his end. 

He pulls out, ropes of his release landing over your ass in hot gushes. “Shit.”

Boba’s cock still jumps and twitches as he drags it over your ass, rubbing his cum into the skin until the last dribble of his release dips above your tailbone. Quicker than you’d have liked he pulls away. Not far; just seats himself to your right and pulls up his trousers with a sigh. Eventually you’re able to trick yourself into moving; curling yourself into a little quivering ball as the aftershocks of pleasure prickle beneath your skin. 

You were right. It did fill whatever grasping numbness inside your chest, but now you’re left to deal with it all over again. You’re glad your back is to him as lonesome tears trickle down your nose and into you mouth, filling it with the taste of salt and pain. 

“I didn’t kill her. If that makes a difference.” 

It’s muttered and hard to catch, but you hear it just the same as if he had yelled it into your ear with an amplifier. You crush that flicker of hope with an iron fist as it flutters inside your stomach. “But?”

“But your Empire made sure that she was.” 

It doesn’t make a difference. 

#the last favor series #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #reader insert #star wars #smut #fanfic #boba fett #this BITCH DONE #YEET #my brain GONE #my writting

[adaodinson]

Would she?

Here´s the second part of Would she? I´ve had some free time and got the inspiration to write it. And one thing, I mention a movie called “Wolfwalkers” during the story, I highly recommend it, it´s a beautiful and artistic but deep animated movie.

Again, I´ll leave the translations to the Spanish words and phrases at the end of each phrase.

Relationship: Marcus Moreno x Fem Mexican reader (it is in English and most of the dialogues are too, her being Mexican is more about the story)

Summary: You are having dinner with the Morenos for the first time and a feeling of both nervousness and excitement covers both yours and Marcus´ body.

Warnings: Age gap, reader is Mexican, some swearing.

Part 2

Part 3

You woke up at the feeling of a small certain creature jumping to your stomach and purring softly. You blinked many times trying to get used to the light of the day and spotted your cat Wolfie staring at you. You turned around to see the time and as you saw your clock, you basically jumped out of bed scaring the living crap out of your cat. You weren´t used to the way your furniture was arranged in your new apartment, so it took a few more seconds than usual for you to find the bathroom.

-Shit, shit, shit- you said acknowledging it was 2 in the afternoon and realizing you wouldn´t have time to do everything you had planned to do. You had bumped into Missy for the second time yesterday and she had quickly told you dinner would be at 7 the next day, since earlier she hadn´t told you at what time you would be expected.

You had offered to bring dessert and you had planned making your famous chocolate chip cookies (famous between your family and friends, obviously) but you were waking up insanely late and still had to go out and buy all the ingredients. You hurried to the store and the second you got back home you started with the dough. While the cookies were in the oven, you went to your room to decide what you would wear. It was a simple dinner, you had no reason to be this nervous but you were. You cursed at the feeling that strange man caused on you and wondered how you would be able to make it through the whole dinner without imploding in your seat in front of the nice girl and handsome guy.

A pair of jeans, black boots, a white blouse with long sleeves and no shoulders and your favorite leather jacket. Simple but perfect. You looked in the mirror with satisfaction. Sure you had some insecurities about your body and face, but you were working very hard on loving yourself as you were, and with all honesty, you liked how you looked on that outfit. You got the cookies out of the oven and took a shower. Once you finished, you put on a light makeup and got dressed. It was 6o´clock and you only had to put the cookies in a plate and wait till it was time to go.

Marcus had woken up pretty early, he was a nerve rack not only because he would get to talk to you that same day, but because he had to make dinner himself and had no idea how he would pull that off without setting his house on fire or ending up ordering food and plating it to make it seem he had made it.

He decided he would try to make something simple so that he could put more effort into it: a pasta and some salad. How hard could it be? He had been stuck in his mind for so long he didn´t realize it was almost 3 and he still had to buy what he needed, so he asked Missy if she was decent enough to go to the supermarket and got ready to go.

She joked around reminding him all the things he had done in the kitchen that deserved their own TV show for how unique and disastrous they were.

-That time when you broke the whole carton of eggs in the sink instead of the bowl, or when you were making pasta but forgot the water so it got caught on fire. Oh or when instead of vinegar for the dressing you used vanilla- She said not being able to hold back the tears from how hard she was laughing-

-Ha ha ha ha you´re very funny. But really, I need your help, I don´t want to mess this up- He said as he pushed the car through the fruit aisle.

-I will help you, remember I like her too, I don´t want her to have to move again because her crazy neighbor made some pasta sauce explode on her- They both laughed all the way back to the car after buying everything. Rushing back to the house they started preparing everything.

They took turns so that one could be cooking and the other getting changed and ready. Things looked pretty good, nothing smelled weird, the kitchen was still standing, no vanilla and vinegar had been mixed up. Everything seemed perfect, almost too good to be true.

It was time, finally. You hugged your cat and asked him to wish you luck. He just lovingly stared at you and you took that as a good thing.

You were carrying the cookie plate and your bag while you locked the door behind you. You looked at both sides of the street before crossing and in a matter of seconds you were in front of the Moreno´s house. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door before your fear could stop you.

A shorter head peeked through the door as the owner of it opened it. Missy received you with a bright smile.

-Hi! Welcome- she said as she moved from the door to let you in.

-Hi Missy, how are you?- you said as you walked inside. It was a beautiful house, not too big but with enough room for two to three people. It was simply decorated but with a clear style and it smelled amazing.

-I´m good, thanks. This is my dad- She said as she pointed at the tall man standing next to you that for some reason you hadn´t seen. You looked at him and you swear you had to swallow a freaking moan from how gorgeous he was.

-Hello, I´m Marcus- he said as he extended his hand for you to shake.

-Hi Marcus- you said and then told him your name as you reached out for his hand.

-Welcome to the neighborhood and to our house- he said with a small chuckle. God, he swore you were glowing. You seemed so perfect, with your bright eyes and precious smile. He though your name suited you perfectly and he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

-Thank you so much for everything, it has been pretty hard for me to settle with the small amount of time I´ve lived here, but it´s amazing to know already I have such nice neighbors- you had no idea where that came form but you thanked your brain for coming up with it and your mouth for being able to say it so well.

Both looked at you with the same smile shining in their lips. They were so alike in certain ways.

They showed you around the first floor and then guided you to the dining room where the food was resting ready to be eaten. It all looked amazing.

-This smells amazing- you said happily.

-I hope you like it- Marcus said with a hint of fear in his tone.

-Be glad if you do- Missy said with a smirk and Marcus hit her playfully in the shoulder.

The three of you sat down and Marcus served all of you a generous portion of red pasta and salad. You stared down at your plate and smiled for yourself. You all started talking about your day as you tried the salad. Missy shared some stories of how Marcus had failed in the kitchen before and you shared crazy stories about your family. Like that one time when you got stuck at a parking place because your uncle that happened to be about ten blocks away had kept the car keys and the place was about to close; or that time when your parents were still dating (you weren´t born) and your mom drove you dad´s car into a pool by accident. As you told that last story Marcus laughed so hard some of his drink came out from his nose just like Violet in the Incredibles 2. Missy and you laughed so hard your stomaches ached.

It was time to try the pasta. Carefully, you used your fork to grab some of it and put it in your mouth. You had expected it to be an only tomato pasta, apparently it had peppers too, but since you were Mexican you were used to spicy and you loved it. You thought for a second you hadn´t told Missy where you came from, so you guessed they liked spicy too.

-JESUS NOOOOO WHAAAT- you jumped so high you almost saw the lamp that hanged from the celling in front of you. You looked at Missy who stood up from her seat and basically ran screaming through the kitchen looking for water.

Marcus´ face was covered in red and he looked at you with a strange look.

-You want milk for spicy sweetie! I´m so so so sorry, how are you not dying?- he asked looking at you. Okay now you were quite confused.

-What?- you said.

-Well the pasta, I mixed up some of the tomatoes with peppers and it´s spicy as hell. I´m used to spicy because of my mom but Missy isn´t- he stared down at you with a disappointed look in his face, but also a puzzled one. Why didn´t you react like Missy? Why didn’t you spit out the disgusting thing he had made?

-Marcus- you said with a soft chuckle- I´m Mexican, I adore spicy food and I´m used to eating it too, I loved the flavor of your pasta, it´s amazing. I didn’t tell Missy where I come from, so I assumed you guys liked spicy too and that had been why you made it like this. I honestly love this pasta.

Marcus looked at you and he swore he would never let you go, even if it was just as a friend, he wanted you around.

Without thinking and letting his arms move on their own, Marcus reached out for you and trapped you in a hug. He was as shocked as you were, but even more when you locked your arms on his shoulders hugging him back.

-¿Hablas en serio?- (Are you serious?) He asked softly wanting to know if what you were saying was true.

-Claro que hablo en serio- (Of course I´m serious) You answered quietly with a perfect Spanish pronunciation and a hint of laughter in your voice. You both stayed like that for what seemed forever until Missy came back and coughed softly.

-Are you done you fools? Or do you have another plan for almost killing me and then celebrating with a hug?- She asked with a serious look at first, but breaking into laughter at the middle of the sentence. The two of you split not daring to look at the other one because of the embarrassment.

-I´m gonna go get changed because I spilled half of the water I used before SOMEONE decided to tell me milk was better for spicy- she said as she walked upstairs.

You took another bite of your pasta and smiled at the memory it gave you about Mexico.

-So- you said swallowing what you were eating- Missy told me your job keeps you away from her a lot, what do you do?- you asked.

Marcus hadn’t thought about whether or not he would tell you about his job. He now knew you didn´t know anything about the Heroics because you weren´t from around, but he also knew you would eventually find out and, honestly, he preferred to be the one to answer all the questions you could have rather that you looking it up.

-I´m what we call a Heroic, I basically fight to defend people when needed- You did not see that one coming. Some people had mentioned the Heroics and you had seen things about them in the TV, but Marcus being one of them… it was AMAZING.

-WHAAAT YOU´RE A HEROIC?- that came out way louder than what you had planned. He smiled and nodded.

-So you´ve heard about us?-

-Well of course, but you´re one of them?!- that was too much for you, this man was perfect- So you have like a superpower or what?- You said expecting him to laugh and saying you were ridiculous.

-Yep, I can control metal, basically- he said amused at your reaction.

-WHAAAAT you mean like Magneto?!-

He laughed out loud at your comparison and with a gaze he invited you to lift your unused spoon for a demonstration. You did as he asked and with all the surprise of the world, you saw the utensil leave your hand and land on Marcus´.

-NOOOOOO THAT´S SO COOL- you said, and without thinking you stood from your seat, ran towards him and grabbed his hand to examine it. You both felt an electric current run through your fingers as you touched, but trying to ignore that, you carefully looked at each one of his fingers and traced them in a gentle way that made him melt.

He sat quietly and let you examine his hands. He was dying on the inside though. He was so amazed by your reaction and he even let himself run his eyes through you now that you were busy. He saw your hair falling at your side, it looked so soft he felt the need to touch it but held back. He ran his eyes through your back and landed his gaze on your ass for a few seconds but he scolded himself and looked away. He turned his gaze back at your head and to your face. You were looking at him as if he was the most amazing piece of art you had ever seen, and his heart sunk at the sight. He traced your nose and your rosy cheeks, then your lips and subconsciously he licked his.

Missy had been observing you two for about five minutes and was between amused and consumed by a tender feeling. You were going to have an amazing long-lasting friendship, or if life smiled at the three of you, a beautiful and romantic relationship that she had already decided she completely supported.

She decided it was time to interrupt though, she would offer you to watch a movie as you ate the cookies you had brought, and she did.

-Okay I´m sure there is a perfect explanation for why you guys are like that, but instead of giving me nervous unfinished sentences, let´s choose a movie to watch while we eat dessert- Marcus and you both stared into each other´s eyes for a few seconds with clear embarrassment and slowly walked away from each other. You were already missing the other´s touch.

You all finished eating dinner, and after washing the dishes you decided to watch a new movie that came out called “Wolfwalkers”.

-Oh my God, these are amazing- Marcus said with a pretty surprised look in his face as he tried one of your cookies.

-They really are, wow- Missy responded with the same surprise as her father.

-Thank you guys, I´m glad you liked them. I love making them so anytime you want some just call me-

-We don´t have your number- Missy said quickly before any of you changed the subject.

-Oh that´s right- you said as you took the piece of paper Missy was handing you and you wrote down your number. Missy gave a discreet wink to her father while you were focused on your task and he just smiled at his daughter.

The three of you sitting on the couch, eating cookies and crying over the beautiful movie after an afternoon of laughing and hugging. It was perfect. You were dying to know what your future with the Morenos would be like.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #we can be heroes #marcus moreno x fem!reader

[miss-tc-nova]

A SOLDIER’s Memories - Cloud Strife x Fem!Reader Pt 7

Not gonna lie, I struggled a lot around this section of the story, but I think I finally got everything lined out. 

Part 7: Dispelling Suspicions

                The Gold Saucer. Fuck.

                I barely want to be around Cloud. I really don’t want to be at the Gold Saucer. And I sure as hell don’t want to be at the Gold Saucer with Cloud. This is bad. Not that I’ve been doing myself any favors.

                Honestly, my brain is kind of giving me whiplash. Up until the event that flipped my world, I was a bit of a joker who could take her job serious when she needed. But then shit happened. I became unapproachable. Only the Shinra executives and the Turks seemed alright interacting with me while everyone else seemed on edge, which was fine by me; I was an empty husk taking orders. Now, I’m kind of in an unknown state of who I am. I’ve already displayed that I still have access to that wrath that keeps people at bay, but I’m slipping back into that joker I used to be. I’d only meant it to aggravate my captors, but it came much more naturally than I expected.

                That’s no excuse to let my guard down though.

                This is our second pass through the Gold Saucer. The first was so chaotic that I couldn’t dwell on the past. Plus, we picked up a suspicious cat. We’ve been going on as if we’ve never met before, but I’m sure he’s up to something. It becomes far more obvious when we start running into Shinra grunts everywhere we go and whispers spread that there’s a spy among us. Since I’ve healed from my injury, courtesy of Saint Aerith, they decided that I needed constant babysitting and now it’s doubled since Cait Sith came along. I know it’s him, but I haven’t figured out what exactly he’s after yet. I’ve been biding my time, waiting for proof because I’m the obvious suspect.

                I lounge across the bed of the Ghost Square inn, trying to block out the memories attempting to bubble to the surface. Not wanting to be here any longer and needing a distraction, I start for the door.  

                “Where do you think you’re going?” Cloud says sternly.

                I give him a toothy grin. “We’re at an amusement park. I’d like to be amused.”

                He scowls. “I don’t think so.”

                “C’mon. I’ll be back before midnight.”

                “No.”

                “If you’re that worried, come with me.”

                That wipes the strictness from his face. “What?”

                “Well you can’t keep me here. So you can either waste your energy trying to keep me in this room or you can keep an eye on me and come with me.” I slip my hand from the glove he’s had a hold of and wave my fingers at him. “So what’ll it be?”

                The blonde heaves a sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

                We let the others know we’re heading out and go, to the objection of some. And out we go into the amusement park where I try to lose my tail; sucks for me that he’s got a good eye. Since I can’t lose him, I steer far away from Chocobo, Wonder, and Round Squares; who knows what’ll happen if I go there with him.

                “Oh! Wonder Square!” and I jump into the entrance of Battle Square. Once I make it out, I look back and see that he’s still following me. Dammit.  “Oops. Wrong entrance.”

                “Stop that,” he huffs. “I know what you’re doing.”

                I shrug and wander further up the stairs of the square. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

                “Seriously. I know you’re trying to shake me which convinces me even more that you’re the spy.”

                “Pfft. I’m not the spy.”

                “Then why are you being so suspicious?”

                I turn to him, still climbing. “Let me start following you around and see if you don’t try to escape. You’re killin’ my fun. Remember that things I said about morale?”

                “That doesn’t apply to hostages.”

                I actually pause to laugh, purposely annoying him. “I am not a hostage, despite what you and your random gang of miscreants might think.”

                “Pretty big words for someone reluctant to fight unless she can get in a cheap shot.”

                Oh, he’s pushing it. “Fine.” I wave to the help desk. “Let’s play.”

                A glint of true interest flashes in his eyes. I know he’s been dying to take me on since I did get in that cheap shot at Shinra HQ. “You’re on.”

                So Cloud and I register for the upcoming tournament, but drawing odds place us at opposite ends of the battle tree, meaning we’ll have to win every round to make it to the finals to take each other on. I have my fun with the warm up rounds, but Cloud’s attempting to make it obvious these rounds are worthless to him—he wants that final match.

                “I hope you’re more fun than the gigas,” I call out over the roaring of the crowd. Cloud simply readies his sword. “Then again, you’re never any fun,” I sigh.

                The round starts and Cloud is after me in a heartbeat. He’s definitely gotten better, become a challenge to actually take on compared to being susceptible to black-out sucker punches. I’m actually very impressed with the progress he’s made in such a short time. He’ll quickly overtake me at this rate. But not today.

                I swing a khopesh at the man which he swats away and he barely has time to recover and stop the one in my hand from striking him. I take a few swipes to push him around before lunging. He steps back and I slam my sword into the ground where he’d just been standing. As I stand back up, I’ve got both blades in my hands and give him a smile. Cloud’s eyes widen and I very quickly jerk back, successfully pulling his legs from under him. I prevent him standing with a blade pointed at his chest.

                “Face it, if I wanted you dead, I would’ve killed you myself. Shinra grunts just aren’t that reliable as you’ve noticed,” I say gloatingly. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be and there’s nothing you and your misfit band of hooligans could’ve done to stop me.” Cloud’s glare fades somewhat. “I’m not your enemy.” I don’t know why the next words come from my mouth, but they’re true. “I never was.”

                Suddenly, Cloud’s sword comes up between us, knocking my blade from my hand. The man recovers his feet and, just before I can separate from him, he swings. The sword slams into my stomach, sending me flying back, crashing heavily into wall of the arena. I’ve lost.

                I lie in the crevasse created for me, listening to the audience cheer on the chocobo. A crooked grin pulls at my lips even though I’m still struggling to regain my breath. I’d be dead had he chosen to use the sharp edge to do me in. His boots stop in front of me.

                “A smart enemy wouldn’t let their guard down until they’ve won.” I let my gaze trail upwards, finding the victor offering his hand to me. “Guess that makes you ally.”

                My smile widens and I take his hand. “’Bout time you figured it out, you cheater.”

                “I didn’t cheat.”

                “Liar.” I spot a bouncing crown making its way through the crowd and point it out. “And you guys thought I was the spy.”

                He huffs and we chase down Cait Sith. Long story short, he gives away the Keystone to the Turks and I dangle him over a ledge until he spits out he’s got Marlene held prisoner. Annoyed, we follow him back to the inn where he explains to everyone that he was the spy and that it’s best to keep him around. Meanwhile, I curse myself for letting him get this far, though I suppose there was nothing I could’ve done with Barret’s little girl in his grasp.

                I head for the stairs up to the rooms when the feline calls out to me. Pausing, I look back at him.

                “What do you want?”

                The moogle hops closer and Cait Sith plays in his cape. “I managed to sneak in before they cleared out your room at the military complex.” My brows pull together and he holds his hand out. “I know you don’t trust me, but this seemed important to you, so I brought it.”

                Unsure of what he’s going on about, I open my hand to receive his gift. He drops in my hand a pendent strung on a silver chain. My heart implodes. Before I can even think about it, my other fist snaps forward, sending Cait Sith nearly halfway across the room. Immediately, Cloud and Tifa are on me to prevent me further mauling that feline. I shake the two off and climb the stairs without a single word, fist tightly clenched around the jewelry. The cool metal burns against my skin, dredging up memories of past visits to this place.

                In the room I shared with the other girls, I rip the window open and wind my arm back to hurl the locket out of my life. That innocent face flashes behind my eyes. I clamp them shut and will myself to throw the necklace. But I don’t; I can’t. I’m still far too infatuated with the dead. Gnashing teeth and cursing myself, I look down at the simple, round trinket. Of course I had to be reminded of the things I’ve lost, of the life I’ll never have.

                I give into my lapse of judgment and loop the chain around my neck, stuffing it down my shirt and out of sight. It feels like it weighs a ton but that’s just emotional baggage. Tifa, Aerith, and Yuffie all return to the room.

                “Heeey,” Tifa says awkwardly.

                Hands behind her back in an attempt to be non-threatening, Aerith steps closer. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

                “Talk about what?” I say innocently.

                “Talk about what?!” Yuffie exclaims. “You nearly busted in Cait Sith’s face!”

                A giggle escapes me. “Oh that. That was for accusing me of spying on everyone.”

                The girls all stare with blank, maybe-mildly-concerned expressions while I just smile at them. 

#cloud strife #cloud x reader #cloud strife x reader #ffvii cloud #ff7 cloud #fem!reader

[spacegaywritings]

Warming Paws and Melting Hearts (1/8) “One Man’s Trash is another Man’s... Cat? “

Teen and Up audience

Summary: Remy does not know how to be a decent human being and he usually is too impulsive to interact with others in meaningful ways. However, he loves animals and his heart beats for them. When he meets the little street kitten Virgil, he takes them in... maybe he does have a shot at talking to his soft crush Emile if he learned how to care for another person?

Tags: mentions of the vet, abandoned cat, mentions of food, cuddles, snuggles, remy being a lil shit, insults kinda, playful teasing, mentions of gore (in metaphors) and head injuries and acid, migraines, headache, chronic pain, mentions of pain, mentions of death (all for shits n giggles bc Remy is a salty hoe), nobody gets hurt, Remy is just a lil shit, mentions of human waste (body waste).

- i do not think there is any more to be applied. If you need me to add anything, please contact me here or on my tumblr (spacegayparty, spacegaywritings)

 This is part of the shipping series (Remy x Emile x Virgil) “Pol-opposites and other Riots”. Find it here on tumblr and on ao3! 

chap 1: ao3

  My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Story under the cut: (Wordcount: ~5,3k)

The day was crisp, it was cold outside and the air smelled of ice. If winter had a certain scent, it was this. Akin to smelling the wetness of nearby ground after and before rain, it smelled of frozen ground and red noses.

 Lucky for Remy, it was not too deep into winter just yet so he could wear a dark sweatshirt, thin yet long-sleeved at last and not freeze his nipples off. His signature black leather jacket (of course faux leather, since it was more flexible and comfortable to him) covered his shoulders and engulfed him with a certain warmth. It was a lid over the cooking pot of his natural body temperature.

Other than that, the purple strands in his hair held the frame of dark glasses - sun glasses, to be more specific. It did not warm him, specifically, but it shielded him from the mean sun rays.

 Was there sun? Not really.

 She was in the process of lowering itself, her descending figure spilling the light of life over the horizon and bathing the world in warm streams of her last cranberry streams. Her usually yellow to intensely golden illumination danced over his hands. He held a drink in one of these hard plastic cups with permanent drinking straws belonging to it. It was about as cool as the world around him, edging on icy. This was not too surprising, judging from the actual chunks of ice in his drink.

 The shades of dark treasures mixed into the scarlet juice of the fading sun. The lights coated the world in new creation, the start of something that has not been there before, but few people stopped to mind the graceful kisses of light onto their skins and the little waves of natural beauty peeking into their vision.

 Remy was not particularly one to appreciate the sun either. The blessed souls who were to adore and value the beauty around them were more mindful than the exhausted worker. He had just exited his job and wanted his weekend to start. In addition to that, he was motivated by the sun causing him pain. Her rays practically chased him off the streets. His tired eyes avoided the reddish gleams coming from the side. While he enjoyed the warm shine tanning his hands for a short moment, it hurt a bit too much for his liking. Instead, he thought himself as a clever person. He turned his back on the last bit of natural light and took a turn since he was at the end of the street, luckily.

 He walked on, his jeans doing little to keep him warm. His breath was forming wet clouds of fog before his face. Kids would pretend to be smoking or have dragon breath when they stepped outside and got to breathe the cool air of late December afternoons. Remy just wearily breathed to stay alive as he walked back home.

His workday had just ended and he had stopped at a nearby coffee place - his favourite café! It was in walking distance from his work place and his home - before heading home. It was a usual thing to do when he slid into a weekend and decided that his migraines were not as bad as to give him any reason to avoid caffeine and extreme temperatures. When enjoying iced drinks, he should not exactly be suffering from pain already but neither should he consume scalding beverages. 

 Remy’s lips caught the pink glitter straw of his drink and once he had drawn the plastic cylinder close enough to suck it into his mouth, he did exactly that in order to treat his flaring taste buds with the deliciously sugary treat. Sweetness and the heavy taste of roasted coffee beans skimmed over his tongue. He was left with the idea of this syrup like treat of a drink in his mouth. The caffeine and low temperature seemed to immediately drive up into his head.

 Being an experienced fan of iced drinks, he knew better than to immediately inhale the whole drink despite the great taste that brought a wide smile to his usually rather stoic or even condescending lips. If he was to go too fast, his brain would hurt. Since he was prone to chronic pain, there was no need to trigger the whole procedure of nausea and throbbing, continuous agony once more.

 He drew in a deep breath and blinked at the way before him.

Grey pavement, some leafless trees framed the pavement and marked the difference between road for cars and the one for walking, much like a fence would. Except this fence had holes all over so people could run from one side to the other.

Before his heavy, black boots, little heaps of brown and dry leaves could be seen and the increasing level of winds swept around his thickly protected feet. As the strong breeze pushed past his form with blind ignorance, they pulled up the leaves in a mysterious dance. Heaps rose into dresses of imaginary fairy friends and took a few steps together with the crushing winds before an obstacle hit them and let their brief union fall apart. The leaf-clad figure would implode, their parts scattering all over the similarly colourless ground until the wind would pick up again and repeat the process tragically.

 The worker walked on, aiming to find his way back home with the last rays of fire red sun tickling his neck as he strove away from the source of heat. It seemed that the further he walked, the darker it got. The colder it got, the more grey there was around him.

Whether his environment received the last kisses of precious life when the sun bid them farewell was a mystery. Maybe the sun was trying to drag the last bits of life from the surroundings in order to come back with more energy once she had processed all the stolen goods.

 Remy’s steps leaving a dull sound with every step he left on the stone ground beneath his coal boots.

All he heard was the distant whirls of air running like the waves, coming close and suddenly fading and retreating in slow, shameful movements with the intention to have a more forceful go at the the leaf fronts next time.

He pushed his sunglasses away, letting the greying world around him make an impression on his unfiltered vision for the first time ever since he had started work. His weak orbs wearily eyed the way before him and he stopped for a moment to blink and assess the situation.

 Was it dark enough? He did not dare looking up into the awfully white-haired sky of seamless cloud patches.

 He blinked at the world and let his free hand rub his eyes with a little bit of mental praise for the effort and risk they were fearfully taking on for his own pleasure and curiosity.

His greyish-blue orbs roamed over the world around him and he sighed in relief. Next to him was a small alley, shady and narrow but a great short-cut to get to the other side and buy his eyes a bit more time to get used to everything until the sun had fully given up on emanating lights like a rich kid who had it all but actually felt nothing and needed to brag with the wealth of possession and energy.

 Yeah, why not. Looked dirty but everything on this ground was full of spit and long forgotten piss anyway. Just like in the life of a rich kid, Remy thought to himself.

 With a shrug, he pushed into the alley and took another big sip of his dark beverage with just enough undertones of sweet and soft tastes gracing and rewarding his whole mouth. He squinted for a moment and stepped forward but immediately stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a sound dive into his mind.

 “Meow”

 Remy retreated the straw from his lips and looked around. It took him a while until he found the little bundle of fur next to his feet. At first, he was not sure whether there really was anything more than a blob of darkness, perhaps just shadows from the sun setting dusk. But what he could see was a pair of different-coloured eyes staring up at him, accompanied by another meow.

 A cat, actually, a very small little kitten with fur as dark as his thick boots was curled up next to him, making sounds so miserable it even reached Remy’s cold heart. That had to say something since it was about as icy as the world around him or the drink in his hand.

 He did not know whether he would have done that at any other moment, under any other circumstances other than these.. all he knew was that he knelt down to the kitten that immediately shrieked in surprise and moved away from him. The movement seemed like a graceful curl, something he could not quite describe or follow. The darkness of shadows served as perfect environment for the kitty cat to use its fur as camouflage suit like a sneaky chameleon.

 “Hey kitty. You lost?”

 Emerald and azure orbs stared back at him, merely visible due to the sheer size of the small cat’s irises in the darkness.

It was comical to him that the cat had the most globe-shaped eyes he had ever seen. Something drew him to the kitty. It was hard to describe but he lowered himself and his hand set the drink down next to the cat. It did not move but the void sniffed at the cup and stub its damp nose against the cold surface of the container. After that, it flinched away as if shocked by the touch. In a heartbeat, it crawled away from the strong smell of cold-ridden, milked coffee beans.

 “Alright, I did not wanna share anyway, you queen”, he commented with a sour expression painting his face.

The man gently drew his now free hand over to the kitten. It hissed at first and he nearly retreated but he decided not to. Instead, he let his hand rest on the ground for the little animal to examine it. More sniffing occurred, followed by the cat’s tracks somewhat stirring. A paw landed in his palm and Remy could feel something in him melt.

  The cat patted his palm a few times as if to test the ground and let out another meow. This time, the kitten stared at him and stood up more properly. It still seemed a little ducked but it was not exactly in the same crawling position as when it merged into one with the shadows of high buildings. The shades were thrown out by buildings in a way, they were high enough to be protecting the animal and keeping an eye over it like a worried parent would watch over a toddler.

In reality, the cat was alone in a dirty, cold alley.

 “You may be a salty bitch but you are still cute”, Remy mused softly. He was talking to himself, yet in a way, he was still addressing the cat.

 Somehow he could not bring himself to just move on. Something told him that the cat did not exactly want him to go either.

 “Well, sucks that I don’t have any food for you at the moment, right? I bet you would like some - hell, I’d like to feed you, little queen. You would probably be super cute when eating out of my hand, huh..”

 Talking about that.. why not? For just a moment, Remy considered taking the animal with him - ... but was that even okay to do?

 “Are you out here all alone, little kitty? You seem too small to be outside or without someone else like a friend or, you know.. a mom?”

 The man blinked at the kitten who returned his complex questions with simple kitty sounds that seemed to drive straight into Remy’s heart, once more. It moved him, touched places within him and let his facial expression rest into a more relaxed one. T

here was nothing stoic about a melting man.

 “So you are a stray kitty cat, huh? Sucks to be you, honey. You look hungry.”

 Remy looked over the little blob of raven.

It looked way too fragile and tiny for a tough stray cat. He did not know much about the streets but he was sure that the weather was not exactly in favour of a kitten surviving all on its own. He.. he should take it in, should he not?

 The man was still in deliberation as the cat curled up before him.

The wind picked up and weaved through Remy’s hair that curled around his sunglasses in strands almost like a flower crown of purple. The icy breeze brushed over him and the kitten, the scarce fur being ruffled by the natural force and the kitten let out a pathetic, nearly pleasing sound as it curled up further.

Was it that cold?

  “Come here, kitten.”

 Remy cooed softly, his words swaying through the air and charming the cat enough to look back up to him. There was a warmth he was offering when the world around them was cold and cruel. The cat was crouching a bit by now - once again, no surprise. But at least it did not try to put any more distance between it and Remy.

 He gestured a stop sign.

“Kitten, wait”, he demanded and carefully shrugged off his leather jacket. At least it was a bit too big for him to be a comfortable fit. Since he had started working out more in the gym, his clothes fit better. It was not a size too big or anything, it was just cozy and allowed him to have proper movement space. As clothing should provide.

Without too much movement, the kitten hissed already at him. He changed his position and shifted in order to get his jacket loose. The young cat ducked, staring at all his body. Every movement of his muscle was noted by a flinch of the cat’s face or a little jump of its ears.

 His sweatshirt underneath was thin and tightly hugging his body shape. It was not enough of a protection against the icy cold. Still, he set the jacket down .. oh man, his fucking favourite jacket on the shitty, piss-ground in a trashy alley in the dark.

 Why did he do that again?

 He heard a meow. His lips immediately broadened into a smile and he patted the inside of his jacket that was facing upwards to the grey, whitish sky.

 “Come here, kitty cat, I will keep you warm. A queen like you should not be outside without the proper fur~”

 Whether the black bundle of fragility understood the man or not, it carefully pawed at the new material and found it to be much warmer than the icy ground around them. Quickly, it took the hint and moved over onto the warm blackness that matched its own fur so well. Its inner chameleon seemed to sniff safety in an environment where it could disappear by simply merging into the background. The kitten curled up on the dark hole beneath it and meowed in delight.

 It .. it started doing this funny vibrating sound. It reminded Remy of vibrations from a text message just a little more organic and vocal rather than a muffled sound.

It was clear and direct.

It went right through his heart.

 “You like that, huh? Come here, little queen”

 He carefully picked up the bundle and the kitten shot up, panic in the bi-coloured eyes. It nearly jumped out of his grip but was soothed when he carefully folded the jacket around the kitten. Slowly, silently, while maintaining a lethargic rhythm, he mumbled little encouragements as he moved to cradle the animal in his arms and rise to his feet. Again, the cat did not take it too well and rose once more, paws pressing against his collar bone. It looked back at where it used to stand with longing in their paws.

 Maybe the cold was better than a stranger’s warmth?

 Remy was standing by now, a bundle of possibly dirty street cat all wrapped up in his favourite and near-holy jacket. It was his personal relic but he was willing to share it with a freezing fella just for the sake of making that miserable little kitten a little bit warmer. After all, it was all alone and forgotten but had no protection or any other things to help itself out.

 His hand gently stroked over the back of the kitten.

 “There there, little queen. Come on, I will get you into the warmth and get you some food.”

 As he started walking, he felt the first flakes of snow settle onto the ground around them. Little ice pieces landed on the curious kitten which tried to paw at the cool sensation before giving up and deciding that Remy’s chest was warmer to rest against.

 By the time the worker had forgotten about the idea of regretting the abandonment of his weekly oh so icy treat, he was home and instead took his new melting treat into his apartment. He could not care less about his drink right now. All he thought about was whether he had enough food at home that was suitable for a kitten to eat.

 Time to go through his cupboards and shelves and scavenge the internet for important information on kittens.

 He got inside.

 This had been much more tiring than expected but at least he had the kitten in safety now.

He settled on the couch and let the kitten down, carefully leaving it to to get out of the leather jacket by itself if needed - it more than willingly did. It dragged the leather jacket along and hid in a pile of pillows that sheltered the cat mostly. Back to being a flag of camouflage, now in his home. The kitten systematically pushed the jacket down to make some sort of bed out of it, if Remy had to guess. It looked like it was giving a massage to his clothing by pushing its paws against the fabric until it stayed down, flaccid and obedient as the cat had planned.

 After this, the little queen proceeded to defiantly lay down on it, paws crossed and face focusing on Remy. He could nearly hear the hiss coming from it but the muzzle stayed shut.

Meanwhile, the human was giving the animal some space and looked up what the fuck cats were able to eat and opened another tab to look up vets. He already got a number within seconds.

 “Queen, you are a sassy little cat but do me and yourself a favour and stay put. I will call a doctor and see whether I can give you food or not. Stay.”

 He gave it a look. The cat stared back and eventually meowed before breaking eye contact with the man. 

Well, that sure meant the kitten was okay with it and understood, right? Surely. Cats were super smart after all. If dogs could learn all those funny tricks then cats sure as fuck would be able to do that.

 Remy left the room and went to the kitchen as he got on a phone call. He did not have any bit of cat food and he was somewhat concerned over what would happen if the cat was to be left alone at his place all of a sudden. It was better to take the cat with him or feed it something he already kept around.

 Cats were bitches, right?

Like, not literally, obviously but still in the sense like humans were bitches, every now and then. Less in the sense of a female dog but more in the sense of being an arrogant and salty diva.

 Yeah, maybe the cat was a queen because it was very much like some salty, self-righteous bitch. Who knew.

Remy kinda liked it. He was already thriving on the potential bitch vibes he got from it.

 Still, from all the internet had told him, there was only super cute kitty cats that made people swoon and got you into someone’s pants or the kinda cats that did all sorts of odd things, but in a weirdly endearing way. And then.. then there were the uncaring and arrogant shits that only liked you when they wanted you and other than that used you as slave for food and drinks and that was it.

 Well, the crazy fighter cats were also a thing but it seemed like such a thing from the last decade, he could not even take it seriously anymore.

Aggressive cats were not a thing, right? So, out of fashion.

 Remy got to the kitchen and washed his hand. It was kinda common knowledge but he had also read that he should probably do that.

Yeah, probably. The internet was always right.

 While he got a vet on, the cat got out of the pillow mess. Head ducked and tail low, the kitten checked the area before rushing out of its hiding spot and into one of the rooms It was warm inside, it was so so much warmer than outside. The kitten took the jacket along as it found a little box in some room and settled in the comfortably tight space. It was basically a big comfortable cave. Well, it was kitty-sized and just perfect.

 Soon, the call was over and all the necessary social bullshit was done with. When Remy returned to the living room, he only found the kitten to be lost when he returned to a jacket missing. Hey, that was his favourite!

Fucking cat. Maybe this one really was a bitchy kitten. Maybe they were real, like, for real!

 “Hey, kitty? Kitty, you got my jacket. And you fucked off. I gave you one job, I swear, darling”

 No answer.

Well, what the fuck did he expect from the cat?

 “Hey Queen, where are you at?”

 No reply.

He groaned.

 They had a fucking appointment.

Nothing went right that day, did it? He was totally supposed to take a nap and then get ready to party and not shelter a cat. What the fuck was this shit even?

 When thinking about the shelter he had to provide, a thought crossed his mind.

...Snacks!

 The cat must have been fucking hungry so maybe he could get the kitty to cooperate with him and get into a box or something.. or back into the jacket. Maybe the jacket was with the cat.

Yeah, that would help in locating the little bitch. A fucking black cat and a jacket just as dark in the surroundings of his home which was essentially kept dark so the light would not trigger his photo-sensitivity and fuck him into worse pain than usual.

Fucking fantastic.

 He brushed a hand through his hair, sighing in exasperation and carefully took hold of the sunglasses he had kept on top of his head.

After some time, it hurt him.

Fuck, his body was such an annoying pussy sometimes. Wearing it on his nose was fine but keeping it on his head was totally much pressure.

 “Kitty cat?”

 Remus carefully approached the couch, looking over the pillows and turning some over. Slowly, gently. Stray cats were often feral or like,.. shy or scared or something. At least, that was what the vet and the internet had said.

Somehow he felt trapped with this cat and if he did not befriend it, then he would be in trouble.

So, for appealing the cat, he needed to find it and somehow give it some food and coax it into tagging along to the vet.

 “Where are you, darling? Come on, do not challenge a bitch. No matter how much of a queen you are, you don’t wanna fuck with me, alright? Come on, you are not like that, right? Please don’t be a little shit, I totally don’t have the nerve for this shit, honey.”

 He carefully lowered himself onto the floor and checked what was underneath the couch.

Nothing.

Ugh, it just hurt to do all this moving and bending. He could feel his head become heavier with every move.

 “Cat, come on. I don’t have time for it. You are not that special, just come out and let me get you to a medic - vet. Whatever! Let me get you to someone who can handle you.”

 He kept walking, eyes looking out for a movement or just anything. Maybe just the hetero-chromatic eyes that would stare back at him with a certain gleam, a certain wetness yet miracle in these orbs. Cats kinda were magical. They seemed to be at least good at disappearing for no reason, all random and without trace. That was some kind of magic, too.

 “Oh kitty cat? Come on, stop being like this. I am nice, I will give you food and pay for your bills like some hot-ass sugar daddy. I know doctors suck, but please don’t hide.”

 Still nothing.

 “Do you even understand what I am saying? ‘Cuz, like, you are pretty unresponsive despite the honey I am giving ya, hear me, darling?”

 He looked over the bookshelves and the little reading corner he had made himself. It was accessible when exiting the living-room. It barely counted as a room, it was just a dark pit of warmth and books and it smelled great. It was an oriel, not a real room. But whatever. It did not matter. Architecture was not up his sleeve.

 “Kitten? You in here? Come on, queen. Don’t be like that. I wanna nap. I got food, don’t you want some fucking food?”

 Silence.

Full stop.

 A meow.

 His heart was beating again.

Hope!

 “Queen? Where you at?”

 The kitten meowed but there was still no movement.

The sounds seemed to come from lower than where he was right now. Time to see whether the cat snuck into the bookshelves or behind them. He kept the lowest spaces empty until the books would just be too much and take up the space anyway.

 “Queen, come on?”

 Another sound - not quite a meow but uh.. something like that. More a ‘mrow’ or something of that sort.

Good hell, Remy did not even know anymore.

He knelt down, carefully examining the bookshelves. The lower spaces were all empty, nothing to look at.

 “ugh.. caaaat~”, he dragged out.

 The man let himself drop fully, his body just laying there much like the corpse in the middle of a recent crime scene.

 “Where are you?”

 He felt shot, so shot already and it was such a young evening, still. He had a full weekend ahead of him and his head was hurting so much. His frontal lobe felt heavy, close to just dissolving into nothingness with acid eating it up right in his head and it was pushing against his head.

 Remy let out a groan, his eyes slipping shut.

Everything was too much.

 He was close to just giving up when he could feel a damp spot press against his temples.

The man simply whined in response. He sighed in took his last bit of effort into opening his mouth to speak, then his eyes to see.

 “This better be death, I swear to fucking hell.”

 Nope, fucking hell no.

It was the cat.

Of course it was.

 “Queen you are killing me. Already. Is that why people with pets are old? Because they want to die and know pets will do the trick if kids can’t? “

 “Meow”

 The kitten sniffed his face and Remy remained on the floor, opening his eyes more, so he could stare back at the kitten.

 “You totally need to be washed and taken to the vet, kitty cat. Come on, let us go.”

 He carefully got up, groaning under his breath and holding his head.

 “Come here, darling”, he mumbled.

He crossed his legs and patted his lap. The kitten padded over to the book box it had stayed in. It was the box in which his latest shipping of second-hand books had arrived in. It smelled old and great, like paper and miracles, stories untold and feelings unwritten yet full of sparks of imagination and so many possibilities.

It smelled of magic.

 It gently patted the jacket and dragged it over.

Remy looked over at the cat, eyes half-lidded. It felt so heavy.

The little stray kitten stopped pulling the piece of clothing when arriving at Remy’s leg and patted his knee.

The man giggled.

 “Do you really think I am gonna share that with you, honey?”

 The cat sat down and looked at him, patting his knee again. Remy gently reached out for the kitten and pulled it into his lap. The cat’s limbs went into every direction, flailing wildly until it was settled on his thighs.

 “Maybe you are not so bad. You got totally good taste.”

 He chuckled to himself but quieted down right after, gently brushing through the fur of the obsidian kitty on his lap.

 “You found me, got the jacket. You are really going for it, gurl, huh?”

 The kitten purred, literally vibrating under his touch and pushing into the soft affection. Maybe that kitten was not so stray after all. It seemed used to human touch after all. But it was not used enough to the cuddles. Otherwise it would not cherish them like this.

 “What are you actually, little void? Male, female, androgynous, a demon? Immortal? Deity of chaos? Did you come to rob my house? ‘Cuz you won’t find lotsa shit here, honey.”

 The cat looked back at him.

He stopped stroking its back and looked at the little black hole before him.

 “I am listeeening, hon~”

 The cat tugged at his hand and patted it, leading him over to its head again and pushing its little skull against the palm of his head.

The fur seemed even softer around there.

 “Hey kitty cat, why are you so trusting? Shouldn’t you like, try to eat me and slit my wrists and all those wonderful things you void cats do?”

The cat had picked up purring again, the soft vibrations gently travelling through Remy’s skin as he carefully scritched its neck.

 “You know, I have know idea who or what you are but you are my little queen now unless we know better. I have seen, like, no indicator of anyone missing you, so you are either freshly straying around or nobody misses you because you are a fucking bitch, honey.”

 “Mrouw!”

 Remy chuckled again.

 “Yeah, whatever you say, little horror block. Let’s get me cleaned and pumped up on pain killers and I promise you can stay in my jacket. And when we get back we see that I order, like, some chicken or whatever for you to eat. The internet said chicken is hot for cats. Just, like, not actually hot. And not with those bones. Bones are bad for little shits like you, right?”

#sanders sides virgil #virgil sanders #virgil anxiety #remy sanders #ts remy sanders #Remy sleep #emile sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fanficion #fanfic fluff #ts fanfiction #joey writes

[jolteonsblog]

as you may know, a certain jolteon went to see superm live in madison square garden last night... 😊 allow me to tell you what all went down!

i can’t stand the rain

a perfect song to start off the show

the vocals and the dancing were both spectacular

although i was pretty sure they were lip-syncing

literally the second they appeared on stage i started screaming OH MY GOD IT’S THEM IT’S THEM IT’S THEM IT’S THEM

yeah, belt it, baek!

kill those high notes!

danger/sayonara hitori

holy crap, that HAT!

taemin looked so handsome in that hat!

and his vocals! damn...

taemin was definitely channeling his inner michael jackson during danger

oh, can i mention that the little dance break before taem’s solo stage beautifully showcased all the members’ dancing talents?

it’s definitely taemin’s showtime!

gta (grand trouble artist)

taeyong!

pretty sparkly mask! oh, he took it off...

oh well, at least we can see his handsome face better!

super car

we go VROOM! like a black car!

me @ taeyong and ten: OHHHHHHHHHH THINGS ARE GETTING STEAMY

yong literally got up so close to ten and tickled him under the chin

it was really nice that they brought out lucas and kai for the end of the song so they wouldn’t miss out on anything

WE DRIVIN’ SUPER CAR!

introductory ment

never have the words “hi guys, we are superm!” sounded so beautiful to my ears

they did a little recap of the songs they did, and baek singing a bit of danger was beautiful

they all looked so excited to be here 

and i noticed that baek was wearing the ‘my cat is a rockstar’ t-shirt, which was adorable

go on, ten! show us what you’ve got!

dream in a dream/new heroes

ten told us that he was a lil nervous before performing

but we were able to give him the courage to do his best!

those vocals sounded like they were coming from the gates of heaven themselves

and considering i’ve listened to new heroes before, it was a new experience hearing it live

his dancing was amazing

bass go boom

SURPRISE, LUCAS!

honestly, i wasn’t expecting yukhei’s solo number to come right after ten’s but i was pleasantly surprised, to say in the least

the video they were projecting onto the screens behind him showed him at his absolute cutest

and the bass went boom indeed

it was adorable

betcha/un village

i literally screamed baek’s name and held it out for a good ten or fifteen seconds before my lungs threatened to implode

baek did the upside-down v thing with his fingers! dunno why, but i love that!

he definitely put the rolling in ‘rolling, rolling, rolling hills’... ;)

and by rolling, i mean body rolls

he made a finger heart at the end! so CUTE!

dangerous woman

i love the little acapella bit they put in the beginning

but honestly, i was too busy screaming for joy to feel like a dangerous woman

why is it considered a new song? are they gonna release it on a new album?

anyways, it was a good song

ment #2

baek, mark, taem, and lucas had to go backstage for the next song

but never fear, the trio of taeyong, ten, and kai is here!

honestly, they were such an adorable threesome

and the light stick wave was so pretty

2 fast

what an amazing quartet

baek and taem’s vocals were on point, as well as mark and xuxi’s rap

i might start listening to that song more often

baby don’t stop

the taeten vibes were off the charts 

i might just start shipping these two

stop, baby don’t stop!

talk about

“MARK LEE IN DA HOUSE!”- mark lee, 2019

dunno why, but i kept forgetting the name of this song until now

it was pretty catchy

confession

two words:

kai’s. abs. need i say more?

kim jongin, aka kai, aka SATAN HIMSELF, was totally bringing the smolder

my poor brain was going haywire at the sight of him in all his bare-chested glory

in short, he made me feel like taehyung did when i saw him performing singularity: attacked

i think he just wrecked my bias list

in fact, i was screaming at him to rip that jacket off

*insert feral screeching here*

jolteon.exe has crashed

he pulled a bs&t jimin move. twice. someone’s been taking cues from him....

casually flaunting your abs for the entirety of madison square garden to ogle over? 

that’s illegal sir

💀

intermission video

i don’t remember much of it, but the only thing i remember is lucas saying “superm forever!”

and i’m proud to say it myself! superm forever!

no manners

kings doing what they do best: serving looks

taeyong just casually grinding on the stage was a total mood

in summary, these boys definitely had no manners (lol)

with you

big uwu energy

these boys are just so precious

baek just slayed those high notes like nobody’s business

and they were throwing colored balls into the audience! WHICH THEY SIGNED! man, i wish i’d bought barricade seats...

ment #3

wait, the concert’s over already?! i thought it was just getting started!

recap time... again

oh, and it’s picture time too! i bet it was a good picture

these boys were so wholesome when they were thanking us for being here

lucas making a heart was adorable, and so was taemin’s pinky promise

they’re gonna perform jopping! i’m so excited!

jopping

welp, here it is, fellas

the song we’ve all been waiting for

I DON’T EVEN CARE YEONGIN ULIL TAEUL STAGE! LEFT TO THE RIGHT WE GON’ MAKE IT MAKE IT BANG! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR LEMME SEE YOU BOUNCE! TO THE LEFT TO THE RIGHT SIJAG DOENEUN ROUND!

CUZ WHEN WE JUMPING AND POPPING WE JOPPING!!

i never thought i’d be able to see this choreography live, but i did

and i got to see taemin doing his signature twirl

BOY HE BOUT TO DO IT! BOY HE BOUT TO DO IT!

baek’s killer high note snatched the soul out of my body

i’m so happy for them :)

this may be the last stop of their tour this year, but i know they’ll be back next year!

#superm #we are the future live #msg #superm forever! #supermemes

[calliecat93]

RvB17 Episode 3 Review: Schrodingin’

Schrodinger's Cat is an interesting theory, isn't it folks? For those unaware, Schrodinger's Cat is a theory related to physics. Now I could explain it as it is relevant to today's episode... but I don't feel like having my brain implode today. In short, you are essentially both dead but also not dead. Just as how, as we learned last week, Wash was both shot and not shot, existing out of time. Everyone got it? No? Well too bad, let's kick this review off.

Overview

We begin back in the Everwhen as we follow Genkins and his hijinks. This includes blowing up Junior, possessing Santa to throw off Locus' reform, wreaking havoc during Season 11, and dropping a ship onto Tex and Andy. Which of course furthers fucks things up, and further brings Chrovos' freedom all the closer. So... yeah... at least we got to see Locus and Santa again. You know... for a little bit.

In the meantime, Donut has made it to General Donald Doyle Hospital, trying to see if Wash checked himself in due to the cerebral hypoxia. He, fortunately, meets up with Dr. Gray, but she doesn't have good news. While Wash had checked himself in a few times due to neck pain... she couldn't find anything wrong with him. He also wasn't quite acting right, constantly changing his story about if he had been shot or not. With no actual injuries to be found, he was continuously discharged. But it's not ALL bad. Due to Gray... stretching the truth a little, Wash got a MASSIVE payout from his medical insurance. So much that not only did he pay for a new wing at the hospital, but on Gray's advice is now investing in walking cannons... for funerals. Well, that explains the summary.

Upon getting Wash's location from Gray, Donut arrives at a penthouse where Wash's... butler leads him to the former Freelancer. When we see Wash... he ain't doing great. And not just because of the brain injury. We see that he's essentially glitching out, at first not recognizing Donut and going in between talking about the funeral cannons to being confused by what's happening and where he is. Donut tries to explain to him about what's going on, how he was both shot and not shot, and how the two different versions of him are struggling to exist simultaneously. As such, Wash has two sets of memories... because that's what Wash needed after the whole Epsilon thing! Haha... man, why does the world have to be so mean to him?

Anyways, Donut gets Wash to focus and realize what's wrong with him. As such, the memories stabilize and Wash reverts to normal. He's still understandably confused by what just happened, asking Donut about it... but also make sit clear that if he's there due to Carolina, he never wants to talk to her again. Ouch. Donut brings him back to the canyon from the end of last week's episode, breaking down the situation. Wash is understandably shocked... but certainly not doubtful considering he was just about to invest in walking funeral cannons and all. With the stakes high, Wash knows that they're going to need everyone, but the question is how to recruit the Reds and Blues in their current states? They can't exactly just go back with the Time Gun due to the paradox fucking everything up, so just kidnapping them is out. Okay, so then they just need to get to Chrovos and take her down, right? Well...

Donut brings Wash to the domain, which we again confirm is in the middle of a Black Hole. So I guess that Genkins got rid of that labyrinth that the Cosmic Powers went on about last season. But yeah due to the shield, Chrovos can't get out but they can't hurt her either. We also more or less confirm that Chrovos, like her creations, is an AI... or she says that she's an algorithm for time, but either way she ain't human or alien. But yeah even more cracks have formed as Chrovos reveals to Wash how it was him being saved that kickstarted everything and about how Donut betrayed the others, to begin with. Of course, Donut explains how he had been manipulated and after, he tried to fix everything by going through the Everwhen since Chrovos told him to go on ahead, but all it did was create more paradoxes and the guys didn't listen anyway.

Wash, however, realizes that something is off. Donut was able to travel through time without a Time Travel gun, as Chrovos said. And since Donut WAS able to snap Wash back to normal, clearly he was on the right track with his attempts with the guys. So the guys CAN be restored back to normal. But here's the question: why would Chrovos tell Donut where to use this? Sure it creates more cracks, but it also means that there's a shot at her being defeated? Well, Wash asks Donut that if he shot him.. again... where would he want to be shot at? Donut says the ears since he doesn't like them. Aka, a non-vital area where getting shot won't kill you, but will still hurt. Chrovos told Donut this not just to hasten her release, but to keep him away from somewhere else. Another point in time. A point in time where she CAN be stopped.

Where exactly? Recall that Chrovos tried pretty desperately to talk Donut out of going to after the paradox to get Wash. Why? Simple, because she doesn't want the paradox undone. If they go back to after Wash got shot but before the others went to stop it, then the events that triggered the paradox won't occur and time will be restored. Though... wouldn't that cause another paradox? No, I'm not gonna think it over. It would probably be a more minor one anyway, so whatever. But yeah, Chrovos doesn't want them to figure out that they can use the Time Gun to stop the paradox and prevent her from ever escaping.

Chrovos admits it but asks them if they really think that they have time. Wash is confident since they have the gun... before raising his gun behind him to point it at Genkins, who was approaching from behind. Donut points out that Genkins can't hurt them anyways.... but Genkins wasn't planning to. What he instead does is open another black hole, sucking the Time Gun into it. That not only traps Donut and Wash in Chrovos' domain, but it means that they can't go through the timestream properly aside from the Everwhen. Genkins heads back to continue his fun as Chrovos mocks our heroes, who are now without the one thing that could fix this mess. Ain't that a bitch?

Review

Okay, we have quite a lot to unpack here. So let's just get to the point and talk about Wash. So... I'm not as big of a Wash fan as others. Don't get me wrong, I like him and he's a perfectly fine character. IDK, I just always found him, well... boring and over-hyped compared to everyone else. But his trial last year was pretty damn hard to get through. Not just because of what it meant for the narrative and the characters, but for... personal reasons I don't feel like going into. As such, his falling out with Carolina after she admitted the truth was... really hard and outright painful to watch, though his anger is certainly justified. We all knew that seeing Wash again here was gonna hurt... and BOY did they not disappoint.

Wash's glitched form was... freaky, to say the least. Him cutting back between his normal self and the more exaggerated state he displayed when loops in Season 15. As Donut said, it's two realities righting for control. Wash had two separate memories of two different timelines in his head, which again is EXACTLY what he needed after everything with Epsilon! I'm not sure if I'd call it the freakiest moment in all of RvB, but it is certainly up there. And then after he stabilizes, hearing him say that he never wants to talk to Carolina again... that hurt. Carolina was well-intentioned in her actions, but in the end, she essentially lied to one of her longest, closest friends and it hurt him. Wash's anger, while harsh, is 100% understandable and justified imo. I feel bad for Carolina, but she lied to not let Wash believe that he was broken, and the end result only caused more damage.

But on that topic... Wash isn't broken. Something that this episode makes very clear. Is he a little slower? Yeah. Is he a bit tattered? Sure. But broken? No. s soon as Donut breaks everything down and gets him to focus, Wash is ready to do whatever he can to help, even saying that he feels he's up to fighting speed. When he gets the breakdown about Chrovos and her plans, he very quickly puts two and two together and realizes the flaws in it. He figures out where and what needs to be done in order to stop Chrovos... that Genkins went and fucked up, but that doesn't diminish the fact that he now knows how Chrovos can be stopped. He was also overall patient and thoughtful with Donut, his anger when he hears about Donut's fault immediately dying when Donut explained that he tried to fix it and telling him how he was on the right track with his earlier attempts in the Everwhen.

Wash was shown to be strategic, thoughtful, and still sharp with his instincts especially when he pulled his gun on Genkins when he sensed him approaching. He is FAR from broken. Yeah, maybe he'll need to be reminded to focus or about certain events at times. He may need to rely on others more to keep up. But he is still just as capable of a soldier as he was in the previous seasons. Brain damaged or not, the guys need his help, and he's going o do whatever he can to save them. Even against forces that are massively out of his league. I really liked how we saw Wash's strengths as a character here, especially with how harsh the plot has been on him these past two seasons. I'm sure that we're in store for pain, he still has to confront Carolina after all, but we're on the right track.

Now let's talk time travel! Whoo... Okay, so I already talked about the deal with Wash and what I think happened. He was struggling with two sets of memories until Donut got him to focus and piece together what was happening. He realized that he had indeed been shot before, and thus stabilized. I guess that the guys will need similar triggers to convince them of the impossible, but at least we now know for sure that it can be done. The only problem is that the guys don't listen to Donut. At all. But with Wash now on Donut's side, they may have a better chance on getting them to at least take it seriously. We shall see.

As for the discovery about how to beat Chrovos, it makes sense. If they were to go back to before they decided to time travel, back in S16 Episode 14, then the events that triggered this whole thing don't happen. The guys don't go back to the past. Wash still gets shot and S15 plays out as normal. They're still given the means to time travel. The difference is that Donut is likely able to use The Hammer fully, enforcing Chrovos' prison and this time there's no time crash to help them. Hell, it may mean that Huggins doesn't get 'killed' (we confirm that you can live through a Black Hole, THERE IS HOPE!) which means that she gets spared. There are several questions that pop up do to this... but you know what? Time travel sucks and we've seen that not every change will fuck everything over, so I'm going to take it.

The big problem now is that the Time Gun is out of play. This DOES raise a few other questions. Now I am going to assume that the Everwhen is more like a simulation so I can get that they can't just go along it and try the plan there. That would likely just hasten the release. Remember, the Everwhen is a period of soft time to be messed with to hasten the release since it was the original crack. So doing anything along it that changes anything is going to cause damage. They might still try, and I could be wrong, but that's my guess. Can they just get a Time Gun from The Everwhen then? Unlikely. The crack starts at "Do you ever wonder why we're here" and ends at Wash being shot. So the events from the last few seconds of S15 Episode 17 to the S16 finale never happened along the singularity. As such the Time Guns don't exist. Even if they did, IDT that Donut and Wash would be able to take them back since they can only possess themselves, not bring items to and from.

So then... how do we fix this? Right now, I have no idea. The first step though is getting everyone back on board. We now know that the guys' memories CAN be restored. It's convincing them, however, that's going to be the hard part. As I said, with Wash now onboard Donut has a better shot, but that doesn't make it easy. They don't process time as we do so convincing them of all of this, even with the deja vu, is NOT going to be simple. Might be easier for some, like I still think that Grif's gonna be the first one since he already came close to believing it. Even so, the best course of action is to focus on restoring everyone as quickly as possible, and then work out a plan before it's too late. The other option may be to get the Cosmic Powers to help, but IDT that they're going to exactly be willing to listen after last season, plus with the Time Gun gone there's no way out of the domain anyway. Our boys are really in a bind people.

Anything else I can talk about? Well... I hate Genkins even more now. I mean he blew up Junior! But otherwise, the montage was good and helped further emphasize how much damage is being done as well as the extent of Genkins' control. He possessed freakin' Santa guys! It was nice to see Dr. Gray again, and she's as great and crazy as ever. I loved it! The pacing, while still very fast, honestly... doesn't feel rushed. It kinda feels like the pacing for RWBY Volume 6, it too went fast and had little padding, but it never felt rushed or like it lagged as a result. I guess it's one benefit to having a 12 episode order, it means less stretching out and being able to get to the point. Might feel odd for RvB, but with the season becoming more story-driven, it's not a bad change. I felt like the viewing experience was worth it when the episode ended, at the very least

Final Thoughts

Good episode! We got Wash back, got some clarifications, have a clear end goal, but of course, it's not going to be simple to achieve. We're three episodes in, and I'm already getting anxious for how things are going to go. Nevertheless, I feel very invested and excited for the remaining nine episodes and for whatever Jason throws at us next. Really good episode! Let's hope that it stays that way!

#rvb #rvb reviews #rvb17 #rvb spoilers #callie reviews

[my-heart-in-his-teeth]

The Devil You Know: Part One (of 4)

Summary: A follow up to Mischief and the Maiden , Loki interferes with Elaina in the best ways. Contains both silliness and smut, consider yourself warned on both counts.

Author’s Note:  I’m tagging those who took the time to write kind comments on my last work because they were awesome enough to do so and that’s what really encouraged me to write this one. I would’ve responded to each of them, but I can’t do so as THIS blog and it seems weird to do so as my completely unrelated main blog. Anyway, thank you!!

Should Tumblr Implode: I’m also here at : https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_heart_in_his_teeth/works

The party droned on for what felt like days.

Her tolerance for this amount of people had peaked and fallen so long ago that she couldn’t even remember when she began feeling plastic, nodding and smiling her way through conversations she couldn’t care less about with people she barely knew. Every time she escaped from one cluster of people, she was shepherded into another.

She had gotten comfortable with being uncomfortable in crowds, but this one was wearing her thin. The men all a matching set in tailcoats and ties, slicked back hair and martinis while the women shimmered in sequined dresses, jewels sparkling off their arms and spilling down their necks in long strings- even glittering from the feather adornments in their bobbed hair.

She was suddenly very aware of how underdressed she was. Glancing down at her faded black lounge pants and thin t-shirt which was altered so that it was missing the sleeves and open at the sides, allowing a view of her lace bralette beneath it, she crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously and backed away, almost bumping into an enormous champagne fountain.

“Jesus!” She gasped, looking up at the towering monstrosity flowing the fizzy drink down from a giant bottle a couple of hundred glasses up. The opulence of the people mirrored the endless ballroom they were in; so much gold on the white clothed tables and the sconces, while giant crystal chandeliers twinkled from above. She felt like an extra in The Great Gatsby.

Or The Shining.

Honestly, she didn’t care which as long as she could find the exit to the place. She excused herself awkwardly, dodging protesting arms and walking with purpose toward the other side of the vast room where she hoped the door was. Finally, she spotted a large archway above the growing sea of people, but her relief was short lived when she saw another lavish hall beyond it.

Her frustration fueled her and she pushed on. At last she saw a great, gilded double door at the top of an impossibly grand staircase. She walked faster, no longer caring how frantic she looked. She would make her apologies to...whoever tomorrow. Why couldn’t she remember whose party this was? And why had she agreed to come? She could figure that out tomorrow as well, for now all she cared about was the freedom just a hundred stairs away.

A hand lightly touched her shoulder and she glanced behind her to see the gentle, smiling face of Patrick Stewart. Suddenly it hit her, it was HIS party. She couldn’t have said no to Patrick Stewart, of course. Seeing that he was wearing his Star Trek uniform made her regret her outfit even more.

“Elaina! “ He said in his lovely British voice. “I’m so happy you were able to come. You did bring the artifact of course. I thought we could pass it around while you give the eulogy.”

She hadn’t remembered any artifact and had somehow not realized she was meant to give a eulogy or even who it was for. “ I....” she stammered. “I just need to get it from my car. She lied. She lied to PStew! But she urgently needed to be outside. Being outside would surely clear her head.

“Excellent!” He held her hand. His skin was very soft. “I cannot wait to hear of how you acquired this one. It is simply fascinating to me how you have been able to find all of these wonderful treasures. You must truly have a gift”

“Oh, I’m just very lucky.” She clasped her hand over his and wished she could remember how their friendship came to be, but her brain seemed to be shrinking into confusion by the second and she could only hope that no one noticed.

She knew she had to pretend everything was fine until she could figure this out, but she hoped he would understand if she ended up running away into the night screaming instead of giving a speech she hadn’t prepared to a crowd of what had to be hundreds of people. “You’ll just have to excuse me, while I pop outside to get it...”

“Of course!” He beamed. “Ah, but first I would love to introduce you to some friends of mine.” He nodded over her shoulder and she turned to see Benedict Cumberbatch walking up to them, a meek Martin Freeman on his arm looking adoringly up at his face.

A brief, but fierce, battle waged inside her before she firmly but politely said no and excused herself again. If she delved into whatever that was about, she knew she would never leave. She continued up the stairs that seemed to increase in number the closer she got to the top, running now, she pushed herself faster until finally she pushed the heavy door open and bolted outside, not stopping until she got to the street.

The cool night air felt good on her skin and now she focused on getting home. She didn’t remember if she’d brought her car. Wait...that’s right, she didn’t even OWN a car. Ahead, she saw a bus stop. Good enough. After sitting on the bench for a second, she realized that she had no clue where she was. Was it New York? It felt too foreign. She traveled so often now it was hard to keep up. Hopefully the bus driver could help her.

As soon as she had that thought she saw headlights in the distance. They were moving strangely, instead of steady and straight they sort of hopped. The reason for that was revealed when the thing came into view. It was a Catbus. It’s eyes were the headlights and when it stopped, the orange furry doors opened to reveal the soft seats inside of its body.

Elaina hesitated and the cat’s Cheshire smiling face turned towards her. She knew her Ghibli and that this bus could take her anywhere, but she thought better of it. “Uh, that’s okay. Nevermind. ” She told it. “I think I'll walk.” The Catbus meowed indifferently and continued on its way.

“Well now that,” A velvet voice spoke from beside her. “Was truly...special.”

She looked up at the figure that had stepped into view beside her. Pale and perfect with dark hair combed back and curling up slightly just above his shoulders. His eyebrows were raised toward the direction of the Catbus.

“I know someone who travels by cat- albeit in a comparatively mundane fashion.... ” He trailed off, then turned to her with a warm smile that reached his eyes and crinkled them at the corners. “Hello, Elaina.”

“Loki.” She said softly. Recognition was like a balm for her troubled head, soothing her back to her senses and lifting her heart in an instant.

She wanted to ask him if he was really there and not just another part of her yearning, stress- drunk subconscious, but she’d asked him that often enough over the years to know that he would never give her a straight answer. Even if he did, she could never really believe it.

“You know,” her own smile spread across her face. “When you said I’d dream about you, I thought the dreams would be more....”

“Enjoyable?” He turned to the grim, gray, building she’d just fled. It had not a single window and was so tall that the top of it disappeared into the night clouds. “But, come now.” He waved his hand toward it and the city street they stood on and shook his head. “You know this is not me.”

“No.” She sighed. “This is the sort of thing my asshole brain comes up with.”

“Well then, let’s slip into someplace a bit more comfortable.”

With that he took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face a couple of matching red, plush couches divided by a black lacquered coffee table inlaid with mother of pearl garden scene. A beautiful Persian rug sat on top of the hardwood floors of the seating area and photographs in various sized frames tastefully covered deep blue walls, dimly lit by the lights that ran along the ceiling.

I guess it doesn’t get much more comfortable than my own house, she thought. She had taken care to fill her home with things that had a story or meaning that was in some way personal to her so that whenever she returned to it after a long journey she would be wrapped in the stable familiarity of it all. Her home was very much her sanctuary.

“This wasn’t here before.” Loki was peering at the Klimt painting above the fireplace. “Who are these people?”

It was an unusual sight- he clad in a black high collared shirt, open at the neck in the shape of a V and over that a strange sort of jacket made of interwoven black leather and green cloth that reached down to his boots. Though not wearing a crown, he still looked every bit a mythological prince standing so casually in her in her living room.

“Umm, well I’m not sure actually.” She wondered if it had registered to him that it had been two years since he was last here. “It was painted about a hundred years before I was born. The image has very much has resonated with me lately. I even have this weird connection to the artist.”

“I see. And what “weird” connection do you have to a presumably dead artist?”

“Oh, I found an old portfolio of his sketches hidden in the pages of this coffee big table art book that my grandmother had.” She studied his profile carefully as she spoke looking for any reaction. “I mean, they were stamped with his signature and everything. It was a nearly impossible find, but quickly authenticated. “

His lips twitched upwards and he kept his eyes on the painting. “Hmm. How lucky.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve come into quite a bit of such “luck” over the last few years. ...since meeting you actually.” She added pointedly. “You know, I’ll buy a doll at a flea market in France that will turn out to be an antique Bisque or I’ll find a used book from a tiny shop in Italy that ends being a first edition Yeats- things like that.”

“Those things sound like they are probably very valuable to Midgardians.” He shrugged. “One should hope you were able to find some use for them.””

She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled knowingly at the floor. “And to think some guys just buy a girl flowers.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. This painting,” he said, changing the subject. “What about it so captured your attention, I wonder?”

“Well, it’s called ’Love’- did...did you just roll your eyes?”

His mouth smoothed out of its grin quickly. “Not at all.”

Each time he’d come to her, no matter how much time had passed, there wasn’t the awkwardness that often happens when lovers meet again. No pretending to be indifferent to their own feelings, no worrying how they might seem to each other or wondering where things might go this time. Everything seemed just as it had been that first night together, in a cabin that wasn’t really a cabin in a realm far, far away. For her part, she had no delusions about what may come of the time they spent together, she was just glad for it.

She paused to contemplate the couple frozen in the painting, forever locked in an embrace that would outlive them. The woman’s hand gripped at the man, her head upturned, eyes closed in anticipation of a kiss that would never come. Or perhaps the kiss was done and the embrace was at its end.

The man’s eyes were closed as well, but she thought he had a melancholy look to him. It seemed he could either be coming or going from her. There seemed to be a silent battle raging within each of them while a host of spirits looked on, perhaps amused at their fate.

“Does she love him?” He asked, circling behind her.

“Yes, that I’m certain of.”

“And do you think that wise?” His mouth was at her ear.

Without hesitation she answered. “No.”

His hand wrapped over hers and he led her to one of the couches, pulling her down into his lap as he sat. She could smell the leather of his clothes and beneath that the familiar heady scent of his skin. “Correct.” His fingers traced down her jawline stopping at her chin. “Sentimentality often leads to foolish choices.”

His eyes rested on her lips thoughtfully for a moment before he deftly took her face in his hands and kissed her, his mouth cool on hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and her hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, fingers disappearing into the softness of his hair.

For a blissful moment there was nothing else in the world but that kiss, then he gently pulled back, gazing at her with contented green eyes. “You have been in love, Elaina.” His elbow folded on the back of the couch, his curled fist providing a rest for his head. “I needn’t warn you of that gnawing thing within your heart that has you so vexed.”

She felt her cheeks redden. It didn’t surprise her that he knew of her life, she sometimes comforted herself with the idea that he was maybe looking in at her from his castle in a magical floating city, but other times she rather hoped he wasn’t. Like the last year.

“We don’t get to choose about falling in love. It just happens.” She could hear the regret in her own voice and hated it. “At least that’s how it is for we Midgardians.”

“It’s all about control, my dear.” His hand rested on her hip. “There’s always something you can control even within the uncontrollable. If you feel an overpowering emotion, you can channel that power into something more...beneficial.”

“Such as?”

“Anything. A more personal passion. Art. Music. Jogging? Is that what it’s called? When you run pointlessly long and slow to get to nowhere? The point is that you can bask in the pleasurable aspect of the feeling, but assign the power of the chaos such a strong emotion creates to something else.” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That way your mind can remain clear and no one unworthy will have power over you.”

She clasped his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. There had been a man she had loved who was everything she wasn’t. Gregarious, charming, and successful, he just always seemed to have it together with never a hair out of place. Even his condo was constantly immaculate. He also was painfully gorgeous. And he actually loved her. Until he inexplicably didn’t.

She winced at the memory.

“I think you over- estimate my worth.” She said quietly.

He clicked his tongue and looked almost offended. “I do no such thing.” He said sharply. “You would do well to remember that. Tell me, who is this man would make you feel beneath him- you who has known the touch and favor of a god?”

“I don’t-I know I’m not beneath him...” she was flustered and now embarrassed. Having been the lover of the God of Mischief was one hell of a confidence boost, but she was never going to have the conceit that might have earned her. She doubted Loki could understand what it was like to be set aside by someone you cherished, to have to question what about you had made them decide you were not what they wanted.

“Perhaps,” he half smiled and traced his fingers over the patterns of lace on the sides of her bralette “You need a reminder.”

She held her breath, remembering every bit of what his masterful touch could do to her. There was a playful spark in his eyes for a just a moment before he kissed her again, this time firmly but briefly, then brought her hand to his lips and planted a kiss there as well.

“Soon.” He said with a wink and before she could question what he meant his face had dissolved into an unpleasant glow of light.

~~~

@roonyxx @carydorse @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @starscreamloki  @glitt3rgaz3 @annievvv7 @holykryptonitekitten @silver-tongue-trickster

#loki #tom hiddleston #fanfiction #marvel #loki fanfic #writing #loki x ofc #cross posted

[lolabean1998]

Avengers Fanfic - 3rd Super Soldier (Part 6)

You and Wanda were chilling and chatting in the kitchen each nursing a large mug of coffee each as you danced around the kitchen throwing together a recipe that had been bouncing around in your head since you had been so rudely awaken. Being the small person you were, you had spent most of the time climbing to reach cabinets and shelve to high up for you to reach even with a chair. You had just scrambled onto the counter by the sink and was rummaging through to unnecessarily high spice cupboard when a very grouchy Bucky strolled in, a jet black beanie pulled over his head hiding his bright pink hair.

"Don't climb the kitchen Y/N, knowing your luck you're bound to fall!" Bucky commented drily just as your foot slipped on some soapy water that had been splashed from the sink sending you crashing into him, his arms catching you just in time.

"I'm quite certain i haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." You chirped, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek before leaping out of his arms snatching the beanie from his head as you did so. Bucky gave an irritated grumble squeezing a nervous squeak from your throat as you darted around the kitchen waving the beanie around in victory as you taunted poor Bucky. You were too busy looking over your shoulder to Bucky who was in hot pursuit, to notice Steve stepping right in front of you until it was too late. You crashed into Steve rock hard abs, stumbling back a bit as you tried to regain your balance but falling into Bucky's arms before you had time to adjust.

"Ah shit!" You huffed blowing a strand of hair from you face and slumping completely, into Buckys arms, grinning innocently up at him as he glared down at you an unamused eyebrow raised as he shook is head tutting at you.

"Oh shit is right you little punk! What do you call this?" He questioned sternly pointing to hot, pink mess on his head.

"Hair?" You asked more than answered, your voice high as the adrenaline from being caught hit the pit of your stomach and began shooting up your spine.

"Strike one" Bucky counted lifting you up and placing you on a nearby stool. Judging by the way he had plonked you down and the stern expressions on his and Steves faces you figured this was temporarily known as the 'Naughty Chair'.

"In desperate need of a trim?" You couldn't help it, the words left your lips before you had a chance to stop them. Nice one dick head, Poke the bear why don't you! You cussed yourself internally, whilst maintaining your exterior facade of innocence.

"Strike two" Bucky continued, his voice raising a little. This was it, you knew if you continued down the path you were on your ass would be toast, but still your mouth continued on without you.

"Too much conditioner?" You quipped, letting out an internal scream as your words betrayed you. We're fucked! Bucky turned to the drawer behind him, turning back a ew seconds later to reveal a large pair of silver scissors in his hand. Steve grabbed the end of your pony tail before you had a chance to bolt, holding it out ready for Bucky to cut it. "Ok, Ok I'll behave just please put the scissors away." You begged, eyeballing the scissors warily, you were to attached to your hair to allow anything to happen to it. Bucky slowly lowered this scissors, signalling for you to continue. "I wanted to see if it would work and I knew you were the only one strong enough to handle the colour. If i targeted anyone else they would feel as though their masculinity was being challenged, you're the only one man enough to pull this off." You lied confidently, your raser sharp tongue working quickly to undo the damage it had done, your plan was going smoothly until Nat walked in, Bucky was about to put the scissors away, Steve had released your hair and then BOOM Nat arrives.

"Well if it isn't Pinky and The Brain!" Her comment sending you into raging hysterics swiftly joined by Wanda who had been caught off guard, spitting her mouthful of coffee everywhere including all over Bucky. He was not having a good day. RUN! Your brain screamed to your limbs as the mildly annoyed frown on Buckys face contorted into an all out angry scowl. You shot past Nat, diving over the sofas as you made a B line for the glass doors leading into the hallway. Your fingers gripping the hinges of the door as you swung yourself round sprinting up the Hall way like your life depended on it, because at this very moment in time, it did. Your feet pounding against the light grey carpet as you bolted blindly away from the furious super soldier behind you. You hadn't realised where you were heading until you crashed through the doors to the training field outside, Fuck it we can do this! You confirmed to yourself determinedly. Without thinking your body leapt into the air as you jumped towards the 10 foot tall brick wall, the only way for you to survive this was on the other side of that wall. Bucky was only seconds behind you as your body soared through the air, you had made it just over half way up, the rest you had to climb and pray. Digging your claws into the grey concrete bricks, you clawed your way up, landing on all fours once you miraculously made it over. Your tail flicking with pride as you bolted towards the trail leading towards the city, you'd lose him there. Just has you reached the busy streets filled with buzzing crowds and skyscrapers it dawned on you. When the FUCK did i get a tail?! You looked down to your feet as you made your way leisurely through the crowds, gulping hard when you noticed great big black, cat like paws where you feet should be. Now I'm sure they weren't there this morning. You thought to yourself frowning at your new retractable claws.

"Hey Steve, you need to see this!" Bucky stammered into his phone as he caught sight of you staring at your refection in a nearby shop window, his voice hit you like a tsunami. You flew into action, tearing up the hard pavement with each stride of your new giant pantha form. You caught sight of a busy market ahead, knowing that you would lose him in the crowds if you played pet and walked along side strangers as if they were your owners. Maybe I'll get a belly rub or a treat! You couldn't help but make jokes about your situation. Sticking to the side of a very rich looking man, you blended into the crowd to your surprise.

"Steve just messaged, sounds like the newbie is causing trouble again." The man you were trailing told the red head beside him. Thats why he looks familiar! Its Banner! You figured before the realisation set in FUCK ITS BANNER! LEG IT! Without a moments hesitation you launched into action, hooking the wallet that was poking out of his pocket with a sharp fang before charging through the now screaming crowds. "Barnes, what the hell just happened?" Banner questioned in the distance. Oh fuck me, now I'm going to have the whole team on my ass! You grumbled, you weren't ready for them to see you like this, you felt like a freak. How were they going to accept you now? They were only just getting used to you as it was. You had already started off being the freak that couldn't remember anything, the freak that had night terrors and sleep walked, the one who had had an odd connection with people you had only just met. If the saw you like this it would only up the level of freak, how were they supposed to accept you then?  You stupid bitch, god damn it!  You'd taken a wrong turn and were met with a dead end, the sound of foot steps behind you told you just how screwed you were.

"I'm not mad, I just want to talk!" Bucky lied, his voice was calm and steady but something deep inside you knew he was lying, perhaps it was the forced calm in his eyes. You had only known Bucky for a few days and though he always came across as calm and collected, his eyes were always filled with anger and sorrow. So for them to suddenly be calm something had to be a foot. He inched his way closer as Steve and Banner edged their way round the corner. Great, Maximum effort it is! You huffed shifting all your weight onto your back legs moving into position ready to pounce, You leapt into the air hurtling towards Bucky, claws out and fangs showing ready to strike upon landing but he saw you coming. He stepped a side wrapping his metal arm snugly around your rib cage before bringing you crashing to the ground. Your hissed and snarled making savage swipes at the air as Banner and Steve dove to your sides assisting Bucky in holding you down. Savage miaowing growls echoed from your throat as you tried to beg and plead for your release but it was no use. Steve was wrapping heavy metal chain around your stomach and neck whilst Bucky wrapped his belt around your muzzle making sure it was secure and that you couldn't get it off. Your heart began racing and you felt as if your world was about to implode your snarls and growls become erratic as your breaths became few and far to breath. Your head began to spin and you felt as if you'd forgotten how to breath. Flashes and Glimpses of a past you couldn't remember began replacing your vision. Metal chains dug into your legs and throat, barbed wire wrapped around your tail and rapidly rising water. Voices in the background shouting commands in Russian 'Escape or Die, Escape or Die' the words repeating over and over again as you tried to force a change. The only way out was up and the only way up was in human form.

"Hey, Hey it's ok, you're ok! It's Bucky!" His warm voice rang in your ears like a beacon. Suddenly the icy water that you were drowning in, vanished a warm, reassuring hand in its place. "Easy doll, we just need to get you back home without injury. The restraints are to protect you, we don't know how you're going to react in the jet." His voice took over, chasing away the horrible visions and spine chilling voices. You blinked you're big Y/E/C eyes a couple of times before they came into focus, suddenly your blurry vision had gone completely and you were staring into the worried, blue eye's that could only belong to Bucky.

"Hey Buck, how do you know it's her and not some escaped animal from the zoo?" Nat asked, once you were on the quinjet, her eye's twinkling with a mysterious sense of mischief.

"You mean besides the fact that i saw her change in mid air? Her eye's, her eye's stayed the same." Buck admitted his flesh arm resting on your furry back and your head resting on his leg. "and any way, she's the only one dumb enough to pick pocket the Hulk." He chuckled raising his eyebrows at the low growl you sent his way. It didn't took less than five minutes for you to arrive back at the compound, Bucky untied the chains around your rib cage attaching them the the chain around your neck before walking you to a holding cell. The minute you saw all the people that had gathered around to see you, your body froze and fear took over. Without warning, you leapt at the crowd giving an almighty roar, snapping the thick leather belt that was around your muzzle as the animal instinct took control. Steve and Nat shoved people out of your way as you began charging at any one that looked at you, your longs fangs exposed with your vicious snarls and roars whilst Bucky struggled to keep a grip on the chain secured around your throat.

After several minutes of screaming, snarling and struggling the crowd of people had disappeared and Bucky had finally managed to regain control with the help of Steve and Nat. The trio walked you cautiously to the cell designated for and overly angry Hulk, releasing you once inside and slamming the door behind you before you could escape. You paced the length of the room before the animal instinct inside you subsided handing the controls back over to you. You lay down in the far corner of the room after several failed attempts at changing back. Maybe I'm just too tired?  You thought resting your head on your paws and closing your eyes. You fell asleep almost immediately unaware of the commotion going on outside.

Masterlist

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes x you #bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fandom #Steve Rogers #captain america #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter solider x reader #Avengers #Black Widow #wanda maximoff #vision #sam wilson #Iron Man #tony stark

[freedom-shamrock]

Staffing Issues

Also on AO3 This is a loose continuation from Model Predator (I think something needs to happen in between, though).  Immediately follows Not Subtle

"Got everything?" Chat asked, hefting a duffel bag to his shoulder.

Marinette settled the straps of her backpack, taking the time to fasten the chest strap and hip belt.  "Are you sure about lugging everything to… where are we going again?"

Chat beamed at her, excited to see her expression when they got there.  "I found the perfect place for the next batch of photos.  You'll love it."  She didn't need to know that he found it by doing a photoshoot there in his civilian identity.

"Let me guess," she said, rolling her brilliant blue eyes in an exaggerated fashion.  "It's a surprise."

"You know me so well!"  That pleased him, too.  Marinette was one of the sweetest kindest people he knew, and to realize that she cared enough to really get to know Chat made his chest all warm.  He tamped down on the emotion before it could manifest as a purr that he didn't want to have to explain.  All his visits with her had been the highlight of his summer so far, and he really didn't want to have to look too closely at his motivations.

"So you're going to be okay carrying all this and me?" she asked, pushing for an answer.

He nodded.  "Yes, Princess.  I've carried much heavier, and it's not far.  I pawmise."  He'd taken her out for tours of Paris a few times in the last few months, and she'd handled it surprisingly well.  A little squeak here or there, usually when he made a sudden change in direction, were the only noises of concern.  Mostly, she spent the entire ride giggling her head off.

"So am I going piggyback or sidesaddle?" she asked.  She was either assessing where she was supposed to hold on, or she was checking him out.  Seriously, the two looks were hard to distinguish.

"Let's go with side," he suggested, holding out his arm for her to come in close, like a half hug.  "I've already got the bag shifting me that way."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled.  "All right Chat.  Feel free to take me to this amazingly awesome, and probably totally over the top and unnecessary setting."

He tightened his arm around her waist and held out his baton.  "You deserve some nice pictures of your creations, Mari," he said, in a moment of seriousness.  "They don't even have to go in your portfolio, but you should have them for yourself."  Before she could respond, he extended his baton and launched them into the air.  Three.  Two.   One.

"I feel like I'm flying!" Marinette called out dramatically before keeping with her pattern and dissolving into laughter.  

"I bet you're a ton of fun to ride roller coasters with," he said.

"I have no... idea."  Her words were forced and interrupted my giggles.  "I've never… been."

He wondered if there was any way Adrien could get a day off to take his former classmate to the amusement park.  His father and his stupid excessive schedule meant that while all his friends were spending the summer on adventures or relaxing, he was working so much he wouldn't have seen any of them if they had been in town.  He could only get over to Marinette's house as Chat, and usually at night or during odd breaks in his schedule.  Right now, he was supposed to be working out, and he figured this counted.

He navigated along the skyline until he reached the rooftop garden used for his photoshoot yesterday.  During breaks and when others were changing, he managed to chat up the owner.  While it could be reserved for weddings and private events, weekdays were pretty open.  Renting it for today had cost pocket change, but Marinette didn't need to know about that part.  What he'd said was true.  He knew good designs when he saw them.  Her work was beautiful and deserved to be showcased properly, even if they were just for her.  Plus, he'd had the most fun, making memories with her like this.  It was probably going to be one of those summers he would always remember fondly, the first since he was nine or ten.

"Okay, here we are."  He settled them in the center, where the camera equipment had been set up for his shoot.

"Oooooh."  Her laughter was immediately squelched.  "It's beautiful, Chat."  She unbuckled her backpack while gazing the arbors and vines.  "Are you sure it's okay for us to be here?"  She looked worried, and he suspected she was already invested in the setting, and didn't want to be if it might get taken away.

He smiled.  "It's fine," he insisted.  "I actually made arrangements with the owner after I discovered it."

For the first set of photos, they each wore one of the outfits he'd referred to as Date Suit.  She'd liked the moniker and used it as the official name.  Her camera had died three pictures in to their last shoot, so they also both had a second outfit, though he wasn't sure which ones they were.  He'd been stunned by the sheer volume of ideas and outfits she'd designed in the last few weeks.

For his turn in front of the camera, he used his modeling knowledge to give her some standard looks and poses.  She'd call out a mood and he'd deliver it, his sensitive magical ears picking up the click of the camera.  Her turn as model went a little slower, with him coaching her into a position, sometimes showing her an expression or pose to mimic.  She was really good for someone without experience, and he had a lot of fun being the photographer for a change.

For his second outfit, she'd made a silvery gray vest that went over a emerald green oxford and black pants.  Instead of ending at his waist, like most styles, it came down to just below his hip bones.  He was so constantly surrounded by fine clothing, it was rare for him to covet something so much, but he desperately needed to find a way to see her photos as Adrien so he could commission one of these.  

While his back was turned, he heard the distinctive shuffling of fabric indicating she was stripping.  As Adrien he had absolutely no body shyness.  As Chat Noir, he was dressing over his suit.  The idea of Marinette half naked behind him in the roof top garden brought a rush of heat to his cheeks.  "Uhhh.  Let me know when it's safe to look."  That sounded casual, right?

"Oh, it's plenty safe," she assured him.  "I'm wearing a bodysuit that matches my skin tone."

"Really?"  He glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, there she was, almost looking naked, but not.  It had convertible straps and a low neckline, so it would work under a variety of outfits.  "That's a great idea."

"Your suit made me think of it."  She walked over to him, wearing a clingy silvery dress with green accents..  "Zip me?"  

His fingers fumbled a little on the zipper, which she hadn't even bothered to start, and he totally blamed his claws.

"Okay, you're first this time," she said, picking up the camera again.  "I'm hoping to get some ideas from watching you pose."

"Glad to be of service."  He ended up using his baton extended as a staff for the last set of photos, paired with a smoulder.  From the tiny little whine she let out, he could only assume it worked as well as he'd hoped.  

When it was her turn to model, she held out a hand.  "Can I borrow your staff?"

"Sure thing."  He thought nothing of handing it to her.  "We'll start easy.  Gimmie flirty," he said.  It was a look she'd been surprisingly good at.

She turned her back on the camera, set her feet about shoulder width apart, planted his staff by her side and looked over her shoulder at him.  Yeah.  That was a good look.  For the next one, she shimmied a little and turned to the side, wrapping both hands firmly around the staff.  There was a hint of mischief in her face just before she leaned forward, popping out her ass just right.  He had to forcibly remind himself to photograph, not oogle.

"How about playful?" he suggested.  Oh god.  That was worse.  With a knowing little smirk, she rubbed her cheek against the staff, the glowing cat paw symbol pointed toward him.  Then she slid one hand smoothly up to the top where her thumb ran circles over the end.

He had to clear his enough to speak.  "Ooo-kay.  That's enough baton."

She hugged it to her chest and shot him a pout.  "Am I doing it wrong?"

"Definitely not."

"So why do I have to give it back."  She smiled.  "I like it."

"Yes, I can see that," he agreed.  "But you being sexy with my staff is going to make my brain implode."  Yeah.  He should've worded that slightly differently.

Her smile widened to show her teeth.  That couldn't be good.  Slowly, holding his eyes with hers, she ran her tongue up the end of his baton, kissing the end in a way that he could only describe as obscene.  He stared at her, completely unprepared for the freight train rumble that came out of him.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but there was something smug about her smile.  "I think the kitty likes to watch me play… with… his… staff."  She paused between the last few words to press her lips to the miraculous metal in her hand.  "Maybe next time he wants me to watch."  Her tongue darted out to press the pawprint and shrink it back to baton-size.  "Or participate."  Stepping closer, she reached under his vest and shirt to tuck the baton into place at the small of his back.  Then, as if she hadn't just shoved his brain firmly off the track and into a swamp, she strode back to her spot and struck an elegant pose.  "Any time, Kitty."

Next in series > You’re Hot

This is for Marichat May, day 5, baton This is also a continuation of my Miraculous Acts of Kindness series proposed by Squirrellygirlart.  Kawaii-Keke-Chan is half of the team who brought us the prompts for Marichat May 2017, so I wanted to write her something.  You can check out her writing and amazing costumes on Tumblr, and her writing  on AO3.

#miraculous ladybug #Marichat May #fanfic #my writing #kawaii-keke-chan #squirrellygirlart #marichat #Miraculous Acts of Kindness

[fitnesshealthyoga-blog]

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/whats-behind-our-appetite-for-self-destruction/

What's behind our appetite for self-destruction?

Each new year, people vow to put an end to self-destructive habits like smoking, overeating or overspending.

And how many times have we learned of someone – a celebrity, a friend or a loved one – who committed some self-destructive act that seemed to defy explanation? Think of the criminal who leaves a trail of evidence, perhaps with the hope of getting caught, or the politician who wins an election, only to start sexting someone likely to expose him.

Why do they do it?

Edgar Allan Poe, one of America’s greatest – and most self-destructive – writers, had some thoughts on the subject. He even had a name for the phenomenon: “perverseness.” Psychologists would later take the baton from Poe and attempt to decipher this enigma of the human psyche.

Irresistible depravity

In one of his lesser-known works, “The Imp of the Perverse,” Poe argues that knowing something is wrong can be “the one unconquerable force” that makes us do it.

It seems that the source of this psychological insight was Poe’s own life experience. Orphaned before he was three years old, he had few advantages. But despite his considerable literary talents, he consistently managed to make his lot even worse.

He frequently alienated editors and other writers, even accusing poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow of plagiarism in what has come to be known as the “Longfellow war.” During important moments, he seemed to implode: On a trip to Washington, D.C. to secure support for a proposed magazine and perhaps a government job, he apparently drank too much and made a fool of himself.

According to Edgar Allen Poe, knowing something is wrong can make it irresistible. Wikimedia Commons

After nearly two decades of scraping out a living as an editor and earning little income from his poetry and fiction, Poe finally achieved a breakthrough with “The Raven,” which became an international sensation after its publication in 1845.

But when given the opportunity to give a reading in Boston and capitalize on this newfound fame, Poe didn’t read a new poem, as requested.

Instead, he reprised a poem from his youth: the long-winded, esoteric and dreadfully boring “Al Aaraaf,” renamed “The Messenger Star.”

As one newspaper reported, “it was not appreciated by the audience,” evidenced by “their uneasiness and continual exits in numbers at a time.”

Poe’s literary career stalled for the remaining four years of his short life.

Freud’s ‘death drive’

While “perverseness” wrecked Poe’s life and career, it nonetheless inspired his literature.

It figures prominently in “The Black Cat,” in which the narrator executes his beloved cat, explaining, “I…hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart…hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin – a deadly sin that would so jeopardise my immortal soul as to place it – if such a thing were possible – even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God.”

Why would a character knowingly commit “a deadly sin”? Why would someone destroy something that he loved?

Was Poe onto something? Did he possess a penetrating insight into the counterintuitive nature of human psychology?

A half-century after Poe’s death, Sigmund Freud wrote of a universal and innate “death drive” in humans, which he called “Thanatos” and first introduced in his landmark 1919 essay “Beyond the Pleasure Principle.”

Sigmund Freud wrote of a universal death drive, which he dubbed ‘Thanatos.’ Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

Many believe Thanatos refers to unconscious psychological urges toward self-destruction, manifested in the kinds of inexplicable behavior shown by Poe and – in extreme cases – in suicidal thinking.

In the early 1930s, physicist Albert Einstein wrote to Freud to ask his thoughts on how further war might be prevented. In his response, Freud wrote that Thanatos “is at work in every living creature and is striving to bring it to ruin and to reduce life to its original condition of inanimate matter” and referred to it as a “death instinct.”

To Freud, Thanatos was an innate biological process with significant mental and emotional consequences – a response to, and a way to relieve, unconscious psychological pressure.

Toward a modern understanding

In the 1950s, the psychology field underwent the “cognitive revolution,” in which researchers started exploring, in experimental settings, how the mind operates, from decision-making to conceptualization to deductive reasoning.

Self-defeating behavior came to be considered less a cathartic response to unconscious drives and more the unintended result of deliberate calculus.

In 1988, psychologists Roy Baumeister and Steven Scher identified three main types of self-defeating behavior: primary self-destruction, or behavior designed to harm the self; counterproductive behavior, which has good intentions but ends up being accidentally ineffective and self-destructive; and trade-off behavior, which is known to carry risk to the self but is judged to carry potential benefits that outweigh those risks.

Think of drunk driving. If you knowingly consume too much alcohol and get behind the wheel with the intent to get arrested, that’s primary self-destruction. If you drive drunk because you believe you’re less intoxicated than your friend, and – to your surprise – get arrested, that’s counterproductive. And if you know you’re too drunk to drive, but you drive anyway because the alternatives seem too burdensome, that’s a trade-off.

Baumeister and Scher’s review concluded that primary self-destruction has actually rarely been demonstrated in scientific studies.

Rather, the self-defeating behavior observed in such research is better categorized, in most cases, as trade-off behavior or counterproductive behavior. Freud’s “death drive” would actually correspond most closely to counterproductive behavior: The “urge” toward destruction isn’t consciously experienced.

Finally, as psychologist Todd Heatherton has shown, the modern neuroscientific literature on self-destructive behavior most frequently focuses on the functioning of the prefrontal cortex, which is associated with planning, problem solving, self-regulation and judgment.

When this part of the brain is underdeveloped or damaged, it can result in behavior that appears irrational and self-defeating. There are more subtle differences in the development of this part of the brain: Some people simply find it easier than others to engage consistently in positive goal-directed behavior.

Poe certainly didn’t understand self-destructive behavior the way we do today.

But he seems to have recognized something perverse in his own nature. Before his untimely death in 1849, he reportedly chose an enemy, the editor Rufus Griswold, as his literary executor.

True to form, Griswold wrote a damning obituary and “Memoir,” in which he alludes to madness, blackmail and more, helping to formulate an image of Poe that has tainted his reputation to this day.

Then again, maybe that’s exactly what Poe – driven by his own personal imp – wanted.

Source link

#current health news usa #health news usa today #healthcare news usa #Health News