#a home is just a house without a dead animal on the wall

[hersurvival]

Alaskan Gothic-

Stuffed animal heads above

Every door and entry way,

Glass eyes of bull moose and

Black bear rugs,

Like guardian angels.

@nosebleedclub September 11th - Stuffed Animals

[freaktoru]

DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH ME BABY!

✰ pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader ✰ summary: after several sexless months of a very vanilla marriage, nanami kento learns how his slutty wife actually likes to be fucked. wc; 4.1k ✰ warnings: food play, a tiny bit of ass play, dirty talk, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, pet names, very light bondage, hair pulling, some very sweet after care, nanami is soo addicted to his wife, honestly just pure filth. 18+ MDNI

your sex life with your husband was basically dead—buried so deep, it felt like it might never come back.

i mean, you shouldn't be surprised right? when you got married, everyone warned you it would be this way. “just wait until the honeymoon phase is over”, “wait until work gets in the way”, “wait until you start sleeping in separate beds” they told you. although you thankfully hadn’t made it to the third phase yet, you didn't believe them—at least not at first.

the first few months of your marriage felt purely euphoric—like a drug you just couldn't get enough of. you were bathing in the seemingly never ending marital bliss, convinced that nothing could have come between you and your husband— at least not when the two of you were fucking like animals in heat, absolutely devouring each other no matter where the pair of you were. well, it seems life has a way of being deceiving, doesn't it?

so here you were, only one year into your marriage and somehow, sex had completely fallen off your marriage itinerary. you don’t even know how it happened. your work lives took over, and the honeymoon rush had slowly but surely died out. your daily orgasms slowly turned into weekly orgasms which eventually turned into none. the number of times you and your husband have had sex in the last few months has been a big, fat, zero. your revised daily routine now looked a little like this: wake up, breakfast, work, dinner, sleep. exciting right?

kento was a very busy man—you couldn't blame him. he was always working overtime, always being pushed past his limits by his boss and always coming home completely and utterly exhausted. but that didn't change the stark reality—your marriage had become painfully sexless, and severely depressing. and you’d endured months of this silent, dry torture before you finally stepped up and decided you had had enough.

you and nanami were a picture perfect couple—that much was obvious from just looking at the two of you. you had the perfect wedding, the perfect house and perfect vanilla sex. though, despite its initial merits, clearly it hadn't gotten you very far—not if you found yourself so sexless this early into your marriage.

you couldn't let your marriage go down like this, you simply wouldn't. something had to change; you both knew that. the only question was, who would be the one to fix it first? so, you finally mustered up the courage to tell your husband you were sick and tired of the drought, and you were more than ready to break this invisible wall which had stood between you two for months.

when you told nanami that you wanted him to fuck you nasty, whenever and however he pleased without so much as a warning— naturally, his cock hardened, and nanami had displayed the rarest of his facial expressions: shock. though, despite his obvious shock, he was just as desperate to bridge the painful distance between the two of you.

so, of course he agreed— because nanami kento was not one to deny his beautiful wife.

and then it began—the waiting game. a semblance of hope finally returned as a light in your plain, boring days and the thrill of the unknown had you going absolutely feral. not knowing when and if he was going to fuck you had you living through your day to day life in a constant state of need and arousal. you finally felt yourself getting closer and closer to the light at the end of the tunnel where a long, loving marriage awaited you.

it had only been two days since your conversation when he walked into your shared apartment after work, and saw you standing behind the kitchen island in the tiniest, sluttiest white dress, preparing his favorite after dinner dessert—apple pie. what a perfect, thoughtful wife you were.

you looked up from the recipe book to see him standing in the doorway, looking exhausted and overworked as usual but, also looking remarkably handsome in his clean suit. gosh. he had just walked through the door and already your warm and wet arousal was settling comfortably in your panties.

“hi kento, how was work?” you asked softly, your lips pulled into a light smile.

“tiring” he replied, his voice an octave deeper than normal. he must have worked very hard if he sounded this exhausted, you thought. his bag dropped to the ground with a thud and he took his shoes off followed by his blazer, leaving just his dress shirt and pants on. you watched him intently as he walked over to where you stood behind the kitchen island, rolling up his sleeves and throwing his tie on the marble surface.

you flinched as he wrapped his big arms around your waist, welcoming the warm yet unexpected touch. he nuzzled his stubbly face in the crook of your neck, placing feather light kisses along its delicate skin. you let out small, pathetic whimpers, feeling another rush of heat settle in your core. your slick would start dripping through your panties and onto the floor if you didn't fix this soon.

“my dear wife, i didn’t know you were so dirty” he mumbled into the sensitive flesh of your neck, lightly nibbling at it, and leaving a trail of wet kisses down it’s stretch. fuck. why had the two of you ever stopped doing this in the first place?

“w-what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly, already feeling worked up from his minor act of intimacy. he inhaled your sweet vanilla scent—relishing in it, before he spoke up.

“yes kento, i want to be fucked” he started, while slowly snaking his fingers down the side of your dress. “whenever you want, however you want” he finished, mocking you sweetly with your own filthy words from just days ago. he was playing with you, baiting you—and you were falling right into his waiting hands.

his fingers met with your soaked panties as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, feeling him rub slow, lazy, teasing circles on your clothed clit, leaving you wishing you skipped the panties entirely when you got dressed this morning.

“is that not what you told me just a few days ago, my dear?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, watching you in amusement as you squirmed under his light touch. he’d barely given you anything yet your head was already clouded with arousal, making you literally tremble with need. dirty, dirty girl. “mhmmm” you hummed in response, not bothering to utter any words. not when you were so busy relishing in your husbands sweet proximity—a proximity you hadn’t felt for months.

“if i had known my wife was such a slut—” he said, slowly moving your wet panties aside with two long fingers “maybe we would’ve never had this issue in the first place” he finished, his deep, velvety voice sending little shivers racing across your skin. you closed your eyes, letting out sweet little mewls and whimpers while he toyed with your drenched pussy.

“k-kento” you moaned, desperate for more. it just wasn't enough. after so many celibate months, you were brimming with need, ready to burst at any given moment.

“yes baby? what is it?” his coo was sweet and honeyed. he toyed with you like a doll, teasingly pushing his fingers in and out of you, slowly pushing each and every coherent thought out of your mind, leaving you in a hazy, blur of need.

“ah— i n-need more” you whined pathetically in response, reaching a trembling hand up to the nape of his neck while your knuckles turned white on the other from your desperate grip on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“more what sweetheart? use your words for me” he practically purred in your ear, his voice a soft caress. the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you like this.

he pressed himself closer against you, removing your dress strap from your shoulder to give himself easier access to your tits. you bit your lip, desperately stifling your moans as he seized a handful of your breast, kneading and teasing the supple flesh, his fingers rolling your nipple with a torturous precision. fuck him.

"p-please kento, want you t-to make me feel g-good" you let out, voice shallow and breathy. your whines and moans were music to his ears, and he vowed they would be the only sound he ever craved to hear again.

you let yourself surrender to the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body as nanami pumped two of his thick, long fingers in and out of you. god, what a sight you were for him—eyes squeezed shut, rosy-cheeked and completely breathless. until this moment, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed in these last few sexless, stressful months he had lived through.

you whimpered a desperate plea as your husband pulled his fingers out, leaving you teetering on the edge of release. no, he was not going to give it to you that easy— especially not after this long of a wait. he turned you around to face him, and in one swift motion, lifted you onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble cooling the burning, aroused skin of your thighs. you felt a strong, big hand grab your waist while the other rest on the soft skin of your cheek. he looked at you through lust filled, hazel eyes—admiring his irresistible wife.

growing impatient, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. "kento" you breathed against his lips, desperate for more of his attention. no matter how much he gave you, you felt it would never be enough to make up for all the time you missed with your husband.

he kissed you softly, mapping every inch of your mouth with his wet tongue. you flinched, as he caught your lip between his teeth, teasingly biting down and nibbling on it before pulling away and leaving you whining and aching all over again. removing his hand from your cheek, he reached his arm around you and picked up the bottle of whipped cream that stood with the rest of the pie ingredients.

"my dear wife, when was the last time you made me this pie? the day after our wedding?" he chuckled deeply, studying the can in his hands.

"thought you'd like it" you mumbled, embarrassed by his mocking tone. you'd never seen him like this. his expression was one—in all your years of dating and one year of marriage—you've never seen him display. he looked hungry. a hunger that went beyond satisfying his human needs—this hunger looked feral, almost primal and he looked ready to do whatever it took to satisfy it.

nanami took a step back, opening your legs further apart to give him a better view of all your sweetest parts. you watched him flick the cap off the whipped cream can, buzzing with impatience as you waited for his next move. a strong hand pushed the fabric of your skimpy linen dress up to your waist, and you almost jumped when he sprayed some on your leg.

"ah- kento, what are you doing?" you gasped, looking down at your bare thigh, where a cute little heart of whipped cream was now drawn.

"apologizing to my sweet wife" he muttered, placing the can back down on the counter. he leaned his head down to your thigh, one of your hands instantly tangling itself in his hair. that's right. this is how nanami kento would apologize for all your missed orgasms—for unknowingly denying his wife.

his tongue met with your leg and he began slowly dragging it up and down the skin of your thigh, licking up all the cream that sat in the shape of a heart. a soft moan escaped your parted lips, and you tugged on his hair to pull his head up despite him not being finished.

"dear husband, when did you become so dirty?" you echoed his earlier words right back at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you locked eyes with his ravenous gaze. there it was, that hunger— that pure look of desire which you hoped would never disappear from his eyes. marriage was hard but in this moment you were both convinced that doing this every night, would make it feel effortless. nanami only smirked lightly before diving his head back down to meet your trembling thigh. that's right, he had you trembling with need—that's how desperate you were for his touch.

strong hands held your thigh down as he finished licking the heart of whipped cream on your leg. this was an interesting way to apologize to say the least. he lifted himself up, locking eyes with you as he slowly licked the last traces of cream from his lips. holy fuck, you almost came from the sight alone.

moving his hands, he pulled your dress over your head, leaving you in just your skimpy, soaked, panties. "so beautiful" he rasped, drinking you in with just his gaze while grabbing the can and getting to work on your tits. you giggled, watching him spray two hearts of whipped cream, one around each of your nipples.

"baby you- ah" the words died on your lips as he began licking the cream, finishing off with a light nibble that had your toes curling from pleasure. with a groan, he worked his way to the other one, sending chills down your spine and whimpers past your lips. one thing was for sure—nanami knew exactly what he was doing. and he wasn't going to stop.

"please" you whined desperately— impatiently. nanami was holding you on the brink of release, dangling your orgasm right in front of you before ripping it right back when you were about to finish. it was fucking frustrating.

so many nights, while nanami stayed late at work, you lay in your shared bed, desperate and aching, your fingers working tirelessly—trying, and failing, to replicate the feeling of his. little did you know that your dear husband spent his time in similar ways. in the late hours of the night while you were soundly asleep, he stood in the giant two person shower of your shared bathroom, hand wrapped around his veiny cock, warm water streaming down his body, pumping himself endlessly. he tried, he really tried. but nothing—nothing could compare to the addictive pleasure that came from your warm, tight walls clenching around his cock or the heavenly feeling of your soft, wet lips wrapping him so sweetly. yes, it was safe to say you were both very desperate and very frustrated.

"you wanted it nasty baby, that's exactly how i'll give it to you" he groaned in your ear moments before you were flipped face down onto the counter, toes barely touching the floor. you had awakened something inside him, and now that you'd gotten a taste of this nanami, you never wanted to go back.

you craned your neck to look back at him, watching him unbutton his now crumpled white dress shirt. he met your gaze, smiling at you while he reached beside you to grab his tie. you had never reacted to your husband this viscerally before. just the mere sight of him was intoxicating, leaving your head light and hazy, as if you were drunk on his presence alone.

he moved your hands behind your back, crossing them over each other before binding them together with his tie. a light moan escaped you, and you wiggled your hands, getting a feel for the restraint.

"spread your legs" he ordered, his suddenly stern and commanding voice only fueling the desperate throb between your thighs. you obeyed, stepping your toes further apart to allow him to stand between your legs.

you'd never thought you'd be this pliable, this eager to please. but here you were, pushed against the marble counter, wrists tied and ready to fulfill any of his wishes and demands—no matter how filthy. nanami held a dangerous level of control over you and your body, and the thought of wanting it any other way terrified you. surely this is what addiction felt like.

you flipped your head over to the other side, enjoying the cooling feeling of the marble against your burning cheek while you watched him pick up his handy whipped cream once again. guess he wasn't done with that huh.

"kento" you whined, indulging in the slow, sweet pleasure but impatiently needing more than just the teasing he was giving you. it wasn't fair. you had waited long enough.

"ah ah, so impatient, my dear wife" he clicked his tongue, grabbing hold of your wrists. you shuddered slightly when you felt the cold whipped cream meet with your tight holes. oh. he placed the can down, and got on his knees, still holding your bound wrists tightly with one hand and squishing the flesh of your soft thighs with the other. he dragged his tongue up all the way from your clit to your ass, licking up the string of cream he had drawn on you just moments before.

god, this man was filthy. his tongue lingered around your rear entrance, licking playful circles around it and prodding it with his tongue. the initially foreign feeling slowly grew on you, shooting warm pulses of pleasure through every vein in your body and deep into your aching core.

he dragged his tongue away from your tight ring, lapping up the last bits of cream left around your drenched cunt. you clenched your fists, desperate to hold something—anything to help you cope with the overwhelming pleasure you felt.

"kento— e-enough, i need you inside me" you uttered, unable to contain your restless, writhing need for him any longer.

"fine, if my beautiful wife so desires" he replied lazily, letting out a low laugh. you heard him unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the ground while he unzipped his pants. finally.

"my dirty, filthy wife" he muttered, idly pumping his hard, veiny cock with one hand. before you could protest, his fat, leaking tip found itself at your seeping entrance, prodding the wet flesh around it. you heard him suck in a sharp breath, a low hiss slipping from his lips as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you so wide that your eyes fluttered to the back of your head.

"nngh- ah" you moaned at the feeling of his tip reaching your cervix. he was sheathed inside you, waiting for your quivering body to adjust to his thick length. nanami was huge—there was no denying it. no matter how many times you had taken his cock, it was always an adjustment for you.

wiggling your hips, you tried to get as comfortable as you could on the hard, white marble countertop while he started slowly moving his cock in and out of you. "i-i haven't ah-adjusted" you whined, needing more time to get used to him. after all, the months of fucking yourself with your small fingers were nothing compared to your husbands cock.

but nanami only said, "you can take it" whilst speeding up to an almost frantic pace. you felt like you were going to fucking break. but don't say you didn't ask for this. you exposed your most vulnerable self to your husband just days before, begging to be treated like this. so yeah, you asked for it. and he was only doing what his wife desired.

nanami began to question his sanity. he never cracked under pressure, no matter the circumstance, but he felt his once strong grasp on his self control now slipping through his fingers. yup. this felt almost too good to be real—like he was either high on the most potent drug or finally losing his damn mind. he couldn't recall the last time he'd ever felt like this—not even during all the other times you had sex. you just felt that good in this moment.

each thrust had you crying out and clenching around him tighter and tighter—reassuring you that this marriage could be saved, that your sex life was not dead forever. your mind was swimming in pleasure and pain, the head of his cock kissed your cervix so roughly yet so sweetly. you silently said your final goodbyes to the sweet, innocent, vanilla versions of yourselves, and welcomed this new beginning for your marriage. you wanted this version of nanami for the rest of your life.

he fisted a handful of your hair, quite literally pulling you out of your lustful haze. nanami wrapped the strands around his hand once, securing you in place—not that you had any intention of being anywhere else anyway.

"fuck- baby you feel so fucking good" he growled from behind you, his breaths slowing into heavier, raspier ones. push. pull. push. that's what this fucking felt like. your scalp ached from the strong pull on your hair and your pussy throbbed from how hard he fucked you. your bodies fused together, connecting with each of his slams inside of you.

"nngh k-kento gonna c-cum" you stuttered out. he had you so fucked out on his cock you were barely able to even think, let alone form a sentence. it was fucking pathetic.

"yeah- f-fuck come for me" his voice came out in a ragged breath and his erratic pace began to slow into a more languid, agonizing one. he couldn't help himself—he wanted, no— needed to feel every single muscle along your tight walls clench around his cock. nothing felt better than this.

a desperate cry ripped from your throat as your entire body tensed, the long built up pressure in your core finally snapping free. your breath hitched, and you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation, finally unraveling around him. your walls clenched and throbbed, milking his cock with every pulsating wave of pleasure that coursed through your body.

"that's it, good girl" nanami purred behind you, feeling his cock throb deep inside you— the unmistakable sign of his climax finally reaching him. he went still, letting his cum spill out inside of you as he came down from his high. he gently untangled his hand from your hair letting your head drop back down onto the counter top.

your eyes were shut and your body was limp. there was no way that you’d be able to get up and walk around— at least not for a while. you felt your husband finally pull out of you, hearing him buckle his pants back up. warm hands met with your still trembling body, and he gently flipped you over, scooping your body up into his arms. not a single word would come out of you. you were fucking spent.

“my love” he whispered softly, placing you onto the plush bed of your shared bedroom. you looked up at him through half lidded, blurry eyes. “hm?” you hummed out, hoping that was enough of an answer for him.

“let’s take a bath” he said simply and you nodded in response. you could use a warm soothing bath right about now. he stalked into the bathroom and you heard the water turn on. he came out naked moments later, and picked you up off the bed, carrying your limp, exhausted body to the bathroom.

he lowered himself in, and you followed, sitting in between his thighs, his huge frame towering over you from behind. he pushed you lightly to sit up and you obeyed, tilting your head backwards to give him easier access to your hair. he began running his long fingers through the strands, untangling the little knots that resulted from his pulling earlier. you hummed lightly at the feeling, enjoying this small, sweet act of intimacy.

he moved his hands down to your shoulders momentarily, placing light, wet kisses on each one, and a few down the length of your back. “you did so good for me” he whispered sweetly, his gentle praise sending a rush of warmth through you.

god. you loved your husband. he was so caring and so tender, and moments like these made sure to remind you of that. you hoped you’d never have to experience another drought in your marriage like that again and you would do anything to make sure it stayed the way it was in this very moment.

“kento?” you spoke up softly, eyes still closed and head thrown back as he began to lather your hair with your vanilla scented shampoo. “yes my love?” he asked in response, waiting to hear what you mustered up all your remaining strength to say.

“i didn't finish baking the pie" you said, letting out a soft laugh. so much for being thoughtful.

he let out a deeply chuckle in return, recalling how adorable you looked, baking in a cute little white dress. he'd never eat his favorite pie again if it meant sex like that for the rest of his life.

he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered "it's okay, i already had my favorite dessert"

a/n: holy shit if u made it this far thank you so much for reading. this ended up being wayyyyyy longer than i planned it to be but i had such a good time with this <3

[quarterlifekitty]

Love the trope of Price mentally constructing a nursery in every home and apartment he’s ever known, in the house of everyone he’s ever dated— it’s the first thing he thinks of (right after where on his body he’s gonna tattoo their name).

He has his dream nursery memorized. It’s his mind palace. He wants cream yellow walls, because his baby is going to be the sun, the same way his wife is his moon, with the away she has over his heart of the sea. He wants an accent wall with wallpaper in a classic motif— the kind they use in pediatricians offices, to be honest. Building blocks, fluffy clouds, circus animals.

John loves tradition, generational passings on, well-crafted things that can last centuries if cared for well enough. He wants his nursery furniture, all of the stuff in his house, really— to be solid wood, handmade (he promises that he’ll make the bulk of it himself, the rest antique). He’d rather die than buy a brand new house without any history. No craftsmanship, all straight lines and 90 degree angles, no consideration to what makes a home feel like home.

Despite being such a trusted member of the team, he knows precious little about your home life. Fine by him— your past is your own, he has no right to it. One day, as you’re about to pack up for leave around the holidays, you ask to speak to him as a friend, rather than a captain.

It’s well known that Price doesn’t have the family he’s dreamed of. An old war dog, bridges burned with the ex wife from his youth, he doesn’t hold out a lot of hope. Maybe in the next lifetime, it will be different. He’ll have that yellow nursery.

You tell him, with an astonishing amount of composure, that your parents passed away almost a year ago. They’ve left the care of the family home to you. It’s quite an undertaking— large, as it used to host all manner of aunt and uncle and cousin generations ago. But now, people are in the spirit of moving far away. Old wounds and grudges, new opportunities. Your parents had their own issues conceiving— leaving you an only child.

Gaz has his family to go home to, so does Soap. No one knows what Ghost does, but everyone suspects he follows Soap home for the holidays. Price has been invited time and time again, but always politely refuses. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the dream out of his reach.

But you tell him this will be your first holiday alone in the house, and that you need him. You don’t know if you can bear the silence for the season. Not to mention all of the upkeep you’re behind on. He figures it’s as good a place to be as any, and he’s the type who needs his hands busy to find any peace.

He falls in love with your old place. Sure, the bannisters could do with being refinished, a bit of carpeting could come up, a few fixtures are spotty— but it’s a beautiful place. Still very much full of love and warmth, the traces of you and your little family are everywhere. In the tarnished silver picture frames, the fraying knitted potholders, the penciled in height markings at the kitchen door.

On the tour, he’s stopped dead in his tracks at one open door. Faded yellow walls, slats of chestnut. A crib.

You explain to him that it used to be your nursery. It had been your mother’s, too, and many more. They kept it perfectly in tact when you’d grown up and moved into another room, hoping that they’d give you a little sibling. The day never came. You’re wondering yourself what to do with it— your career hasn’t left you with much time or appetite for romance. There’s a stinging sadness dripping from your words like lemon juice. You admit that you suspect this family, once monumental, will end with you— the house passed to someone who will strip off the carved filigrees of the stair railing, throw white paint over all of the walls, and put grey vinyl over the hardwood. That is, if they don’t just tear it down. Land could be divided up into a few new apartment units.

You’re barely listening to yourself talk— just ambling along, as if you haven’t just revealed to John Price what his life’s been leading up to all this time.

[gaza-giving-tree]

Imagine waking up in the dead of night to the terrified screams of your child. You quickly turn on your phone's flashlight to find your son's face covered in blood. The source of the injury is even more terrifying: rats have gnawed through the fragile walls of the tent you call home, and viciously attacked your son, causing severe injury to his face.

This isn't just a story. This is the nightmare that Hossam Al-Qazzaz and his family lived, just a few short days ago.

@hananqazzaz @hossamqazzaz12

Story written by @rumiandroses

The past year of Hossam Al-Qazzaz’s life has been one of unimaginable hardship and resilience. Forced to flee their home in Gaza, Hossam and his family returned to find nothing but rubble—everything they had worked for destroyed. With no other option, they pitched a small, humble tent over the ruins of their house, hoping to create some semblance of shelter amidst the devastation.

Life in this fragile tent is a daily battle for survival. Bombings persist, food and water are scarce, and the safety they once knew is a distant memory. One terrifying night, Hossam’s son Bashar was attacked by rats that invaded their tent, leaving him injured and crying for help. Unable to afford medical treatment or secure a proper tent to shield his young children, including a 4-month-old baby, Hossam now faces a dire reality: how to protect his family from illness, hunger, and the constant threats of their surroundings.

Hossam’s plea is simple yet urgent—he hopes to treat his son Bashar, find a safer tent for his family, and ensure his children can sleep without fear of rats or stray animals. Every donation, no matter how small, can help Hossam rebuild a safer life for his family. Your support could provide the relief they so desperately need and bring hope to a family struggling to survive in unimaginable conditions.

Help Hassan secure safety, medical care, and the bare essentials his family needs to endure this crisis.

Please consider donating to Hossam’s GoFundMe, [HERE].

This campaign has been vetted by @gazavetters and is (#287) on their list of verified campaigns.

[heliosunny]

Yandere Phainon with vampire reader. The story starts with him taking reader in to stay at his house cause they didn't have anywhere else to go. Due to reader not wanting to hurt innocent people, they would rather suck blood from dead animals or blood from hospital. But one day, due to not being able to find any stocks to suck on, they started to isolate themselves in their room, not wanting to go out of control, especially hurting Phainon. But seeing their state, Phainon decided to offer himself so that he wouldn't have to see them suffer any longer (and cause he wants them to suck his blood)

At first, reader argued with him, backing up cause they didn't want to suck his blood (for they wouldn't be able to resist cause of hunger) but Phainon caged them in his arms, pushing their head towards his neck and coaxed them gently to just feed on him.

Looking forward to how u will write this one!

Yandere!Phainon x Vampire!Reader

The night you first met Phainon, the sky wept. Rain poured in relentless sheets, soaking through your cloak as you stood before the grand wooden door of his isolated home. The cold bit into your skin, not that it truly affected you, but the exhaustion did. You had been wandering for too long, seeking refuge, hiding from hunters who would have slaughtered you on sight.

So when the door finally creaked open, revealing a tall man with silver-white hair and piercing blue eyes, your breath caught. His gaze was wary, assessing, lingering too long on the damp edges of your cloak, the pallor of your skin.

"You shouldn’t be out here." His voice was deep, smooth, yet edged with caution.

"I have nowhere else to go" you said honestly, suppressing the natural tremor in your tone. "Please."

For a moment, he only stared. Then, with a sharp exhale, he stepped aside. "Come in."

You entered, shaking off the rain, your sharp eyes flicking around the space. The scent of silver, the faint traces of dried blood, the glint of well-maintained weapons along the walls, you had walked straight into the home of a predator. He's a hunter. His name is Phainon as he introduced himself.

You should have left. Instead, you stayed. You hid what you were, blending into his world while carefully avoiding suspicion. You learned his habits, watched the way he moved, how his fingers always lingered near a blade. You cooked for him, helped him track beasts of the night, shared in the silence of lonely evenings.

Then one day, you made a mistake.

A hunt went wrong. A slip of the tongue. A wound that healed too quickly. And just like that, the truth spilled from your lips.

You were a vampire.

You had expected anger. Hatred. For him to raise a weapon against you.

But Phainon only stared. Then he sighed.

"You should have told me sooner" he muttered, rubbing his temple.

"...You’re not going to kill me?"

"Do you want me to?" His gaze was sharp. "Because I don’t."

You didn’t understand it then. His patience. His forgiveness.

And when you offered to help him with his work, tracking creatures, setting traps, cleaning up after his battles, he only smirked and let you.

For months, it worked. You found stored blood from hospitals, drained already-dead animals, survived without ever tasting the warmth of a living vein.

But eventually, the supply ran out. And then the hunger came.

You locked yourself in your room, curling into yourself as the pain clawed at your insides.

The scent of Phainon was everywhere, his heartbeat, his warmth, the life that pulsed beneath his skin. It was maddening.

You couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t risk it. So you hid.

But Phainon wasn’t the type to let things fester. The moment he noticed your absence, he sought you out.

When the door creaked open, you flinched at the flood of light, your body stiff as Phainon stepped inside, his sharp gaze locking onto you. His expression was unreadable as he took in your trembling form, the way your fingers dug into your arms, the dark circles beneath your eyes.

"You're starving" he murmured.

You looked away. "It’ll pass."

"It won’t."

Then he stepped closer.

"I’ll fix it."

Your head snapped up, panic flaring in your chest. "No."

Phainon ignored you. He was already rolling up his sleeve, exposing the pale skin beneath. A quick, precise motion, and a thin line of red welled up.

You inhaled sharply, instincts screaming at you.

No, no, no.

"Drink!" he ordered, offering his wrist.

You recoiled, shaking your head violently. "I can’t."

His expression darkened, but his voice remained soft. "Yes, you can."

"If I do, I won’t stop," you gasped.

"I don’t care."

"Phainon—"

In a blur, he moved. His arms caged you in, one wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head. His scent overwhelmed you, warm, intoxicating, too alive. Your body tensed as he tilted his head, exposing the vulnerable curve of his neck.

"Drink" he whispered, "Take what you need. I want you to."

You shook. "You don’t know what you’re saying."

"You think I don’t?" His fingers slid into your hair, gently coaxing you closer. "I know exactly what I’m offering. And I won’t let you suffer when I can fix it."

Your breath was shallow. You couldn’t win this. Your fangs ached, your body screamed, and Phainon was right there.

He tightened his hold. "Do it."

With a strangled gasp, you sank your fangs into his flesh.

A sharp breath left him, followed by a low, satisfied hum. His blood flooded your senses, hot, rich, unlike anything you had ever tasted. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, burning through your veins like liquid fire. You gripped his coat, trembling as you drank deeply, surrendering to the hunger you had fought for so long.

Phainon exhaled, fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns down your back. "Good" he murmured, voice thick. "That's it."

You should have stopped. But he felt too good, his warmth, his steady heartbeat against your lips. He didn’t push you away. He let you take from him.

And he smiled. Because this was what he wanted all along.

The fever came that night. Phainon lay sprawled on the couch, skin burning, breath uneven. His body struggled to adjust, to accommodate the loss of blood. You hovered nearby, guilt twisting deep in your gut.

"You knew this would happen" you murmured, voice tight.

Phainon smirked, half-lidded eyes gleaming even through the fever haze. "Worth it."

"Phainon..."

"You’re mine" he said, voice dark and amused. "And now… you can’t deny it."

He was right in a way. You had tasted him. And you would never be able to resist him again.

The fever burned through him relentlessly. His silver-white hair clinging to his damp forehead. Despite his words, despite how much he wanted you to take his blood, you had known the consequences. The first offering always left the giver weakened, fevered, caught between the edges of life and death as their body adjusted to the unnatural bond. And yet, even in his delirium, Phainon smirked.

"You’re staring" he rasped, voice rough but undeniably amused.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "You’re half-dead, and you’re still insufferable."

"Not dead enough for you?" His eyes flickered with something dark, teasing. "You can always take more."

You stiffened. "You want to die?"

His chuckle was weak but genuine. "Not at all." A slow inhale. Then, softer, "I just want you to need me."

Your fingers curled into your palms.

"You risked yourself" you muttered. "For what?"

Phainon let out a slow exhale, his fevered gaze never leaving yours. "Because I couldn't stand watching you suffer." His voice was uncharacteristically raw, honest. "And because I wanted you to drink from me."

You shook your head sharply, standing up. "You need rest."

Phainon only watched you, silent.

Then, as you turned away, his voice came—softer, but laced with an undeniable edge.

"You’ll need to drink again."

You froze.

"...No."

"You will." His smirk widened slightly despite his exhaustion. "You’ve already had a taste. Do you really think you can go back to starving yourself?"

Your throat tightened.

For the next few days, Phainon recovered, though his smirks never faded. If anything, he seemed pleased by the fever, by the proof that his blood was now inside you.

You tried to act normal. You helped with his work, stayed by his side, convinced yourself that you could forget.

But then, the hunger returned.

It came quietly at first. A dull ache, a fleeting thought, a phantom memory of warmth.

Then it grew.

You began noticing things you hadn’t before. The scent of his skin when he stood too close. The steady pulse in his throat when he spoke. The way your fangs ached when he brushed his fingers against your wrist.

It was unbearable.

You started avoiding him.

But Phainon wasn’t stupid.

One evening, he cornered you.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. You stood near the window, your hands gripping the sill, breathing slow, steady.

Trying to suppress it.

Trying to fight it.

But you felt him approach before he even spoke.

"You’re doing it again" Phainon murmured, voice smooth as silk.

You didn’t turn. "Doing what?"

"Hiding. Hiding the fact that you’re hungry." he continued, tone almost gentle. "I can feel it."

He was right.

"I won’t drink from you again" you forced out. "I won’t put you through that."

"Who said it’s up to you?"

Before you could move, arms wrapped around you from behind. Phainon caged you against the window, his body pressing into yours, the heat of him seeping into your cold skin.

"Phainon—"

"You will drink from me" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Because you need it"

You shook your head, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

"I won’t let you starve yourself" he continued.

Your fangs throbbed, instincts screaming at you to obey.

You clenched your fists. "Let me go."

His grip tightened. Then—he tilted his head, exposing his neck.

"Take it" he whispered, coaxing. Tempting.

Your breathing grew uneven. The scent of his blood was intoxicating.

You trembled. "I can’t—"

"You can" he corrected, pressing your head closer. His fingers slid into your hair, stroking, soothing, trapping. "And you will."

You clenched your jaw, resisting with every ounce of willpower you had left. But Phainon knew already. He felt you breaking.

"You belong to me now" he murmured, pressing his lips near your ear. "And my blood belongs to you."

And then—

Your fangs sank into his skin. A sharp breath left him.

You clung to him as the warmth flooded your senses. His arms never loosened. Phainon wanted you, and now, you could never escape him.

-----

The first time, Phainon had anticipated pain.

And he had felt it—sharp, piercing, the sudden shock of fangs sinking into his flesh. His body had instinctively tensed, heat rushing through his veins in a violent surge. But then came the pull.

A slow, intoxicating drain that left him lightheaded, yet unbearably aware. He had never felt anything like it, the way his blood coursed through his veins only to be drawn out, siphoned into you.

And it wasn’t just the sensation of loss.

It was the way your body trembled against his.

The way your fingers curled into his coat, desperate, clinging.

The way your breath came uneven against his throat, heated and hungry.

It was powerful.

And as much as he had intended to offer himself to you, he hadn’t expected it to consume him, too.

At first, he convinced himself it was just the aftershock. The fever. The inevitable consequence of giving too much.

But the next time—The next time, he craved it.

It happened again days later. Earlier than he expected.

You had resisted at first, still stubborn, still trying to push him away. But he had been patient.

And when you finally gave in

When your fangs pierced him once more

A sharp gasp left his lips.

The pain barely registered this time. It melted away almost instantly, drowned out by the rush.

The heat.

The pull.

Phainon had always been in control of his body, his senses. He had fought beasts, endured wounds, trained his body to withstand agony.

But this was something else.

It was dizzying, like sinking into deep, burning water. A fire that spread through his limbs, up his spine, into his very bones.

It wasn’t just the blood loss that left him breathless.

It was you.

The way you clung to him. The soft, involuntary sounds that left your lips. The desperate way you needed him.

The way his body responded to it.

A low, involuntary groan escaped him. His fingers curled into the fabric of your clothes, gripping tight as the dizziness settled in.

It became a cycle.

You needed his blood.

And Phainon— Phainon needed the feeling of giving it to you.

Each time, it became easier. Each time, the pain faded faster, drowned out by something darker, something dangerously close to pleasure. It was twisted. It was addictive. And he didn’t care.

----

It started as a whisper. A fleeting suggestion. A dangerous temptation.

"Turn me."

At first, you thought he was delirious again, fevered and reckless, like the first time he offered himself. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

Phainon was serious.

And the worst part? You could feel it.

That same pull.

The same desperate, consuming hunger that gnawed at you, but mirrored in him.

A different kind of hunger. One not for blood, but for something far more insidious.

For you.

You stepped back, shaking your head. "No."

His smirk barely faltered. If anything, it deepened. "Why not?"

"Because it's a curse." Your voice was firm, but he saw the hesitation. "It’s—"

"A curse?" He interrupted smoothly, tilting his head. "Or a gift?"

You swallowed. "Phainon, don't-"

His hand shot out, grasping your wrist before you could put more distance between you. His grip was firm.

"Do you think I haven’t noticed?" he murmured, voice low, coaxing. "The way you try to resist, but you keep coming back to me?" His thumb brushed over your pulse, slow, deliberate. "You’re mine. And I’m already yours—whether you like it or not."

"Isn't this better?" he continued, "No more suffering. No more fevers. No more weakness." His blue eyes gleamed in the dim firelight. "If I become like you, we both get what we want."

Your fangs ached at the way he said it.

It was terrifying. Because you weren’t sure if you had the strength to deny him forever.

Phainon was relentless.

He let you think you could resist.

But he knew the truth. Because every time you fed from him, every time you drank deep and felt his pulse beneath your lips, every time you felt his body shudder against yours-

You got closer.

And closer.

Until one night—

You lost.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t a decision. It was an instinct. A moment where you had drunk too deep, where your senses blurred, where his breath hitched in something close to ecstasy.

And he didn’t pull away. He leaned into it. And in that haze-

He whispered, "Do it."

His voice was hoarse, pleading, desperate.

"Make me yours."

Your vision swam. Your hands were shaking. Your breath was uneven.

Your fangs sank deeper.

Not just to drink.

A violent, irreversible exchange. The taste of blood changed—thicker, darker, rich with something new. His body tensed against yours. A sharp inhale. A choked sound.

For a moment, everything stopped.

And you realized: You had done it.

Phainon was changing. And when his fever finally broke, when his eyes opened again— They weren’t the same. He wasn’t the same. And neither were you.

"Now nothing can ever separate us."

[teyums]

a/n: cats are so funny because they genuinely think they’re doing something nice for you when they drop a mouse at your feet as an offering and it’s actually the opposite. i was watching my cat play with her little toy and it just brought the terrifying memory back to me bc WHY WOULD YOU THINK I WANT THIS? As soon as the idea came i wrote it, Neteyam just seems like the type LMAOO 😭

neteyam x human!reader

It takes Neteyam quite a while to understand the difference between Na’vi women and human women, especially the difference in what you do and don’t like. But you can’t blame him, you don’t look like his kind, you don’t smell like his kind, hell, you don’t even dress like them.

The Na’vi’s behavior very closely resembles that of a house cat on earth— you’ve noted after studying how Neteyam’s emotions portray themselves through his expressive tail, how his ears dip when he’s angry or perk up when he’s excited, or how he purrs when you finally agree to sitting in his lap instead of your chair while you finish up your work for the day. With the innate behavior of the two creatures mirroring each other almost completely, it’s no surprise that this also heavily factors into what they deem as ‘gifts’ for their favorite human.

Just as housecats will fetch their humans dead animals or rodents as an offering to them, the Na’vi way isn’t too far from that. You hated so much as looking at dead animals, let alone being near them, but when your childhood cat, Loki, used to bring field mice into the home and drop them at the foot of your bed, at least it was small enough for you to scoop into a grocery bag with pinched eyes and a hand over your nose while you fought back the tears of sheer terror.

Most of Neteyam’s catlike nature rendered adorable to you, and while you were more than willing to learn more about the ways of his people, this new custom he’d introduced you to had your heart dropping out of your ass like a brick and your soul exiting your body as if you could do without it. It’s when he shows up to the lab, a dead boar strung over his back with the biggest, toothiest smile you’ve ever seen spread on his lips until a bloodcurdling scream wipes it clean off his expression.

“Oh my God, ‘Teyam, get it away, get it away!” You shrill, so startled you almost tumble out of your desk chair, the hairs on your neck standing straight up as you divert your attention from the animal that’s almost the size of your body, a panicked hand splayed over your rumbling chest and the other extended out, palm towards him.

“What? You don’t like it? Should I have gone with a hexapede (deer) instead?” His brows gather in the center of his forehead when he steps closer and you immediately yelp and scoot back, the metal wheels of your chair screeching against the smooth tile with the effort of your retreat. He’s wholeheartedly confused, because any woman of his kind would find such a gesture as this one beyond thoughtful, and even romantic. Catching one of these things isn’t easy, and a clean kill with an arrow through the heart as to not rupture or damage the meat of the animal is even harder.

“I even skinned it for you!” He urges with a pout.

Your involuntary squeal interrupts his attempt to convince you as you fan your face with your hands, but it seems as if he’s still having trouble understanding.

“Perhaps I should have roasted it as well…” He ponders to himself with a hand pinching his chin, deep in contemplation while he keeps his catch over his shoulder and his eyes cast toward the wall, completely missing the way your trembling hands scramble over your desk for something to launch at him.

“GET IT OUT!”

He winces at the pitch of your shriek, astounded by how that loud of a sound could come out of such a tiny being. His brows raise before he quickly ducks to dodge the one-subject notebook that flaps past his head in a blur of fluttering paper, and he hurriedly obliges your wishes with a few steps back and a rushed ‘okay, okay!’.

Likes + Comments + Reblogs are much appreciated 💗

©teyums 2023

[kykyonthemoon]

Strayed

They told you he was dead.

Yet far away from home, you find him again.

Or is it just a ghost of him?

.

.

.

Kept in Skyhaven like a stray cat and under Caleb's control, you realize he is no longer the kind-hearted boy you grew up with.

You might love him, you might despise him, yet you could never leave him.

���. Caleb x Reader (MC)

ಇ. Tags: R16, suggestive themes, possessive behavior, hurt/comfort, angst with healing ending

ಇ.Word count: 2031w

ಇ. This story is submitted to the Love and Deepspace Version 3.0 Cosmic Encounter Pt. 2 Fan Art Contest under [Homecoming Wings] category.

Your support on my X is always appreciated <3

ಇ. Artwork by Jessie Mai (as requested by me).

ಇ.Masterlist ♡ Request a fic (closed for the time being)

Your eyelids fluttered awake in the dimly lit room, each breath harsh and frail as it left your body. A cold, metal hand tightened around your neck, pressing you against the wall and lifting your feet off the ground.

“Please…”

You struggled. You screamed. But the person standing in front of you only tightened his grip. On that familiar face was an expression completely foreign to you.

“Caleb?… Please… let me go…”

Yet, this was no longer the Caleb you had grown up with.

You awoke in a darkened room. Cold sweat poured down your back and soaked your shirt. Sitting up, your hand instinctively moved to your neck, where a leather chain hung. It was thin, as a typical choker, and didn't bother you much except that you could not remove it. It had been around your neck since a few days earlier, when you snuck into the Farspace Fleet's secret base. Now you ended up here with a familiar stranger.

You stepped out of bed and strolled barefoot out of the room. You could smell the delightful scent of food, and it almost fooled you into thinking you were back in your old house in Bloomshore on a sunny morning, and that nothing had ever changed. Yet, you were a little too far from home.

The mission led you to Skyhaven, where you found the person you believed you had lost. He was standing in the kitchen, a table full of exquisite delicacies all set up. He offered you a chair and said:

“Good morning, pipsqueak. Come have your breakfast.”

You gazed at him. Was he your brother, your childhood friend, or was he someone else today?

With each heavy step, the collar's bell rang quietly. You settled into the chair that had been pulled out for you and said:

“Hello, Caleb.”

Are you still Caleb today?

He smiled at you and began to eat. Noticing that you hadn’t touched any of the food on the table, he asked:

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like these dishes?”

"When can I leave?"

Caleb's smile faded instantly. He didn't look at you as he neatly sliced the bacon. The sound of the knife hitting the plate made you feel uneasy. 

"What did I say about being obedient, pip-squeak?"

Your hands tightened into fists as you stood up abruptly. 

"I don't want breakfast today," you said, pouring all your anger into your words. You turned away, and the bell on your choker rang louder with each step you took. However, just before you reached the kitchen door, your feet felt numb and stuck to the floor, as if they had turned to stone. 

You turned around. Caleb was standing, and with a flick of his finger, your entire body was pulled towards him. 

“You’re not allowed to skip breakfast.”

Caleb seized you from behind without hurting you. His muscular body caught your back. His breath brushed your hair. His fingers gently stroked the leather chain around your neck before dancing all over your skin. Caleb delicately stroked your neck as if you were a little animal, completely harmless in his captivity. It soon came back to you the nightmare from the night before, when his mechanical arm took away your precious life. Of course, during the mission, you had picked up a few things about the new Colonel of the Farspace Fleet and their secret experiments. However, Caleb did not reveal a word, only leaving you in a mist. You did not like that at all. So you quickly pushed him away. 

“Stop it, Caleb! What are you plotting? Why do you keep me here? Didn’t you say I would be safe and we would be together? Why… Why do you keep me here, with this?” You turned to face Caleb, pointing at the collar around your neck. You looked precisely like the cat you had brought home years ago. Caleb had also put a bell around its neck to ensure he could find it no matter where it ran off to.

"It’s for your own safety, pip-squeak," Caleb explained gently. One hand moved up to caress your face, but you backed away as soon as his Evol stopped affecting your legs.

He assumed the collar was to protect the cat, but you regarded it as a shackle, preventing it from experiencing genuine freedom.

Your reaction left an evident pain in his countenance. Caleb bowed his head and smiled slightly. Then he took a step toward you. With each stride he made, you moved further away from him. The ringing stopped as you reached the edge of the table, and there was no way to retreat.

“We will always be together. Just as we promised."

Caleb's cool fingers brushed your face. You used to appreciate the warmth that emanated from his touch. What about now? You were not sure. Was the person standing in front of you an illusion, a ghost? Or had you never known the real Caleb before?

He leaned down.

“You don't trust me anymore, pip-squeak?”

“Don’t call me like that…” You felt as though there was no air left anymore. “They told me you were dead… Then you appeared before me again… You said you weren’t the boy I’d known since childhood… Then you told me that I could trust you still…”

You hesitated for a time. Trembling, your hand reached out and softly stroked his face. The sparkle in his eyes had dimmed, and his grin had grown much sadder. You said:

“I don’t know where to put my trust anymore… What’s happening to you, Caleb? Tell me…”

His eyes fluttered as his face leaned into the warmth of your palm. He rubbed it, a little too greedily, and placed a kiss there. At that very moment, he wanted to confess to her all the sins he had committed.

Would you forgive him if he told you he wasn't the kind-hearted boy you once knew? If he admitted that he had always longed to be this close, to cross the line between the two of you? He had always dreamed of touching you, to bask in your warmth—only yours. He had envisioned a world where it was just the two of you. However, the choices he made drove him further and further away from you. By the time he looked back, it was already too late.

So, what would he choose?

“Caleb?…”

You called his name, again like you always did. That familiar tenderness pierced through all of his defenses. He lifted you up and seated you on the table. The gap between you grew steadily less. His fingers touch your lips, parting them slightly.

I choose you…

Always.

He placed a kiss on your pink lips, one he had rehearsed in his mind thousands of times. Under the crabapple blossoms. By the window filled with the hues of sunset. In the kitchen, where you would clumsily help him prepare meals... Yet, all those dreams together could not rival this moment, when you at last responded by wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Gravity, something that had always been under Caleb's control, was suddenly out of his grasp. He was willing to give it up, if you wanted him to. Leaning into you unconsciously, he clutched you tightly, savoring every drop of the nectar on your tongue with a sense of greed. You both trembled at the wave of emotions that were new yet familiar, as if you had been dreaming the same dream for a long time. Caleb pulled away from you slightly, gently caressing your face that was flushed from the heat between you. A tear ran down your cheek and was hastily wiped away. You leaned back and tugged at his collar, compelling him to brace himself against the table.

Caleb chuckled softly as the bell on your neck jingled. He leaned down to kiss you, his lips continued to send electrifying sensations down your neck and shoulder. After his return, you reprimanded him mercilessly. His hand still bore the mark of your bite. Yet at that moment, you poured all your anger, resentment, and yearning into every touch, every kiss you left on Caleb. You raised his chin, allowing him to stare directly at you before capturing his lips. The bite you just gave him, together with the kiss, did not damage him, but it was enough to make him comprehend the conflicting emotions that were surging in your mind. 

You might love him, you might despise him, yet you could never leave him.

You and I, we’re both strayed too far from home.

The siren blared, flashing red across the entire neighborhood. A tall figure dressed in military uniform was rushing to find his way through the crowd of emergency evacuees.

But when he arrived, the place was deserted.

“Pip-squeak? Where have you run off to?…”

The sole response to his cry was icy silence. That soft bell chime had vanished, far away from this place, beyond his reach.

As Caleb rushed out into the street, it started to rain. His subordinates offered him an umbrella, and he just ignored what they said. He went alone in the mild rain, his gaze constantly searching for the little figure and the sweet bell chimes.

Had you left? Had you left him here all alone? Was that not a good thing though? You would return securely to Linkon, to live your life and forget his existence here. Caleb from your childhood was dead. This would be for the best.

There, on the bench in the vacant area due to evacuation following the Wanderers' surprise attack, he found you again.

“You… You’re still here.”

He spoke. Relieved. He had found you.

You looked up. Your hair was a little damp. Just now, when you heard the sirens and saw the lines of people evacuating, you had found her way out of his apartment. At the time, you assumed he didn't want to hide his key at all; otherwise, how could you have discovered it so easily? Once you got out of the flat, you followed the crowd out of the danger zone. You kept walking. Now that you were free of him, you could take a flight back to Linkon on your own. But what about him?

You never wanted to go home without him.

So you pointed to the leather chain on your neck and said:

“I can’t go yet, because it's still here.”

Caleb took a minute to ensure you were not wounded before squatting down in front of you. He set the umbrella aside, on the ground. The rain was still drizzling.

He grabbed your index finger and moved it up to slide underneath the choker. There was a little scanner that read your fingerprint. A little chime rang out, and the chain slipped off in an instant.

“You don’t look surprised,” Caleb said with a faint smile. “You knew, right?”

You had figured out how to remove it, yet fooled yourself into believing you needed that chain there to bind yourself to this place, to Caleb. And you found contentment in doing so.

As you stroked Caleb's icy face, a warm drop fell onto your palm. It was not rain. It was a tear.

“What’s wrong?”

Caleb gave no answer, only placed a gentle kiss on your finger. Something had happened this morning, prompting him to dash out of the flat with a stern expression. And now he was before you, completely drained and distraught with the possibility of losing you again.

“You're still here, pip-squeak. That’s enough for me.”

Before you could respond, Caleb leaned in and embraced you. He nuzzled into the crook of neck, whispering:

“Let’s go home…”

You knew not a single portion of what Caleb was going through. At times you did not even know if the person in front of you was truly him. Yet you wanted to stay, to embrace him for who he was, no matter the cost.

“Yeah… Let’s go home.”

You and I, we’re both strayed too far from home.

But it doesn't matter any more. My home is where you are.

-The end-

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Sergei

Kraven x Reader [Pt.2]

Big cat man has a weak spot for little cats and their owner. / A simple domestic, fluffy one where a quick job takes an unexpected turn.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Kraven wanted to hit the Spider man where it hurt the most; his found family.

That family included you, so let's go over that day you met, yeah?

All he had was your name, social media profile pics and an adress his people managed to conjure up for him.

So there he was, parked a few blocks away, ready to get to his first prey. He made his way into the apartment building and followed the door numbers untill he had reached the right one.

He had decided to give this a more stealthy approach, so instead of simply breaking down your door he picked the lock and let himself in quietly. With one hand on the door handle and the other on his knife he stepped into your home, immediately being alarmed by the animals either hissing at him or scurrying away. He quietly closed the door behind him, taking in his surroundings and being almost stunned by the little piece of paradise you seemed to live in. He stepped around in your apartment, careful not to step  on any of the many cat toys sprawled all over and avoiding any of the cats that were curiously staring at him. He stared at your walls covered in fabric covered shelves amd scratching poles, little food and water bowls everywhere. Without thinking about it he reached out for one of the furry residents who happily pressed its head into his palm. As one started, the others slowly became more comfortable around him as well and within a short moment he was surrounded by cats of all shapes and sizes.

He padded around a bit more untill he had reached your small kitchen, staring at the lion themed towels and the cat shaped mugs behind the glass cabinet doors. A touch to his leg pulls him from his thoughts as he spots the big, red cat rubbing against his calf, purring for attention. He reaches down to pet him and makes the mistake of sitting down because quickly he is stuck with his back against the kitchen cabinets and a large cat in his lap with more surrounding him.

You're done at the store a few blocks from your home and make your way back with a small bag of food and another one full of cat treats.

You get to your floor and walk along the hall until you reach your door, putting the key into the lock and opening the door with only a small twist of the key. 'Ugh, again?' You think to yourself, making a mental note to remember to check if you locked your door before you walk away next time.

Entering your house you're immediately noticing you're not being welcomed like you usually are. There's no crazy meowing or paws trying to grab whatever is in the plastic bags. Really, only two of your oldest cats were to be seen from your spot at the door as you put your keys and phone on the little side table.

You stepped forward to say hi to the old, grey one closest to you gave him some pats and made your way through the livingroom, turning the corner and stopping dead in your tracks across from your kitchen entrance.

The bags previously in your hand hit the floor with a loud crunch, startling some of your cats, them scurrying away to their hiding places. 'What the hell..'

Before you were almost all of your cats, surrounding a man who was sitting against your kitchen cabinets with your biggest orange cat in his lap, clearly demanding scratches as he complained loudly every tine the man removed his hands from him.

"You uh.. You got a great place here." Who was this guy? And see? You did lock your door when you left! You just stood there, staring in confusion.

"What?" Was all your brain was doing. What was he doing here? What's the meaning of this? How did he even get in here and why is this stupidly handsome cat loving man on my kitchen floor? Who even is he?

A sigh left the man's lips as your loving companion clawed at his hands and pulled it back onto him for the umpteenth time in the short period he had been there.

"I'm Sergei." He spoke, looking up at you. "And you're a friend of the spider man." The way he stated it so matter of factly immediately sent you into panic mode, fidgeting to grab your phone, remembering you had put it at the door. Your cursed at yourself, not wanting to turn around to grab it because if he knew about you and spiderman there was no way this guy was gonna let you reach that phone.

He raised one of his hands, not wanting go raise the other as well and get scratched again. It was so stupid how you just stopped thinking of grabbing your phone when you noticed his sweet gestures towards your pets and the way they all seemed to love him. Your friends always joked about how you could never be someone's friend if your cats didn't like them, and since they all liked this man.. They liked Sergei so you just slowly picked up your bags and started putting the items away. You two talked, mostly about your crazy amount of animals and the things he observed about them as you walked around, keeping a close eye on him in the meantime.

"This guy is nice, what's his name?" Sergei spoke, pointing at the cat still draped over his legs. "That fatty is Nacho, he usually hates new people." You muse from beside him, squatted down to put the cat food on the bottom shelf. You look over at them, reaching to give Nacho some belly rubs like he wasn't still laying in this stranger's lap.

"You still haven't told me why you're here." You stood up and grabbed four large party snack plates and a box of wet food, deviding ghe food in small portions. You quietly shook your head as Sergei hadn't said anything yet. With the amount of space you needed to prepare this food, you had stepped so far to the side that his shoulder was resting against your leg. You nudged him with your knee, getting his attention. "You know you can just, like, put him on the floor, right?" They both looked up at you like you had just offended their families. "Get up and give a hand here."

He blinked in surprise with how direct you were being with him and gave an apologetic look to the animal in his lap before picking him up and placing him on the tile floor. Getting up he let out a tired groan aa he lazily reached for the two outter plates you jad prepared and basically trapping you between him and the counter. "Now, where do you want these?" He asks quietly, laughing softly to himself as he sees you stammering, trying so hard to find the words of the locations you put the cats' dinner. He chuckles and picks up the plates, carecully walking around to find the right spots and making sure not to accidentally kick any of the eager felines trying to get as close as possible to the food.

He looks around, spotting an empty side table and placing the first one there before taking the other one to a spot where three cats sat waiting on the floor.

By the time he had finished placing the food you were back to yourself enough to put the remaining plates away on autopilot, only stopping to aimlessly walk around as you see Sergei again, very carefully petting one of the older cats and letting it lick some sauce off his fingers. You walked closer, not taking your eyes off the scene in front of you, shocked that old Mr. Snowball was actually accepting food like that.

"He never does that.." you state blankly, more to yourself than to your guest. He had heard your comment and smiled to himself, petting the old cat some more and kept feeding it for a bit longer.  You stood closer to him now, closely observing his movements and body language, hoping to learn something from the way he managed to feed the one cat who barely even wanted to eat his favorite snacks anymore.

The doorbell made you both jump, taking away your focus on the scene before you as you walked to open the door, realization hitting you that you completely forgot to cancel your dinner order after your friend canceled your plans earlier today. You open the door and accept the food, thanking the delivery guy with a sweet smile and close the door with your foot.

"So, hungry?" You quip withtour hands full of takeout boxes. The confused stare you receive isn't really helping you feel less awkward about the whole situation. "I forgot to cancel the food order after my friend called me she couldn't make it tonight." You continue to ramble about today's events being all messed up, and on top of that having a complete stranger in her house.

During your speech he had moved over and carefully taken the boxes from your hands, setting them on the small coffeetable in front of the tv. "I can eat." His answer came out so simple, not even phased by your rather offensive wording from only a minute ago. With some convincing he managed to get you to sit down on the couch.

He sits down at the tsble on the floor, his back against the couch seats right next to you. "I'm not here to hurt you." He speaks softly without looking at you. "Well.." A sigh leaves his lips. "Not anymore, at least." 

You sigh, head laid back against the back cushions. "You're one of Spidey's enemies." It wasn't even a question. You recalled him mentioning you being friends with him earlier.

He turned to face you, one arm over the couch seat. "I can't hurt someone like you." You gave him a look at his choice of words. "You care more for these creatures than for yourself. I love that." Turning baxk to the table, he took one of the takeout boxes and handed it to you. "Altough I believe you need to start caring for yourseld a bit more. I looked inside your fridge." You fake whince at the fridge mention and accept the food, quickly taking a bite.

"So," still chewing on your food, you start. "You broke into my apartment to either kill me or hurt me very bad.." You looked at him and shook your head. "But you decided not to when you learned I like animals more than people?"

He lets out a laugh at that. "Yes. That is the basics." You smile back at him. "Well, be glad my cats like you, then. Otherwise I would have tried to kick you out and I'd have gotten hurt and slash or killed for sure. And honestly I'm surprised you managed to feed him." Nodding your head in the direction of the old cat in the corner. He follows your gaze and smiles to himself. "What can I say? I'm a cat person." He shrugs casually, eating some more fries.

Looking at the table you realised you wanted something to drink. You got up and placed your food bsck on the table, walking over to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle and two glasses, setting them all down on the table and pouring you both a glass. You sit back down and the two of you finish your food together.

After dinner you gather everything off the table, taking the stack and putting it away, bringing back a new bottle of drinks from the kitchen.

As you sat back down you missed your little side table and scooted over to the other side, placing your glass next to you and settling down right behind Sergei who was still on the floor. "You don't have to stay down there, you know." You mention. He looks up at you, his head now touching your lower legs as you sit cross-legged behind him. "I'm good here. Easy access to these guys." His hands again reaching out to pet some more wandering cats. He had closed his eyes halfway into his sentence and kept his head laying against your leg. Without thinking twice you let one of your own hands wander and softly brushed your fingers through his oh so soft looking curls. He let out a soft hum at that and you couldn't help but laugh at yourself a little.

"What's so funny?" With a quirked up eyebrow he watches you through one opened eye.

"It's just, my friends always told me I have a horrible taste in men,"

With that he openend his eyes to look at you properly. "What I mean is, they would totally kick me out of the friendgroup if they saw me here, having dinner and being cute with a guy who had plans to kill me." You kept playing with his hair as you spoke nervously to which he let out a soft hum and put a hand up to pat your leg. "You think they'd dare to say anything if they saw me next to you?" Putting the emphasis on the 'me' by motioning at himself and mostly his physique.

You nodded in agreement, knowing how absolutely intimidating he looked when he stood upright, so close and looking down on you at the kitchen counter. Not even the image of the gorgeous man towering over you, an image that would have normally helped distract you from literally anything, wasn't even helping against the anxiety that was coursing through your head right now.

Meanwhile your hands were still in his hair and his hand was still resting on your leg, the other coming up as well to rub comforting circles on your skin. "You really have to relax, little rabbit. I can feel you stressing out.." He leaned over on the couch and hopped up on it next to you, back agsinst the oposite armrest with one leg against the backrest and the other dangling off the seat. One of his hands reached out to give your shoulder a queeze and grabbed your arm, causing you to let out a yelp as he pulled you against him. He easily manhandled you on top of him, your side against his front and legs stuck between his. You let out a long, tired breath and told yourself to focus on his warmth instead of the gnawing, angry yelling in the back of your head. One of his hands dangled next to the couch, waiting for one of the cats to bump their head against if before picking one up and placing it next to you, petting it softly so it laid down for you to pet as well.

"Thankyou," you softly said getting more comfortable against him, nuzzling against his clothed chest. You had no idea how he managed, but in this short time from feeding your cats till now he had made you feel more normal than anyone else had ever done. His strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you further into him, his legs wrapping around and covering yours. Your face was now hidden in his neck and his lips were on your temple, a low, rumbling satisfied hum coming from his as he inhaled your scent. You returned his gesture by softly pressing your lips against his jawline, not exactly kissing it but just holding them there for a short moment.

He could feel the smile forming against his jaw and slowly led his fingers to your chin while moving slightly to capture your lips with his own. Without hesitation you maneuvered yourself to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back properly, scaring your cat away by doing so making you both laugh and separate. When he looked up at you he saw the tears theatening to spill, placing a hand on your cheek. "Let me care for you like you care for your creatures." It wasn't really a question, more of a statement of which the details would be discussed later. You sniffled, "Yeah," and nodded in agreement. "I'd like that."

[avatarloverfrfr]

DREAMWALKER SIBLINGS

Chapter III: Memories -> previous[II] Masterlist Summary: Y/n and Jake Sully. Siblings, shipped off into the depths of space to explore the mysterious world of Pandora. Warnings: N/A Word count: 1020

Jake wheeled himself out of the small shack we called home, not bothering to turn back around. "I'm going out." he announced, his voice flat, tired.

"Jake—" Tommy called out, but his words were cut off by the sound of the door slamming closed.

"He's off to the pub, again." I said staring at the holographic images of tigers on the wall. My eyes following their every move, a constant reminder of the wild freedom we could never taste. This was no way to live, trapped in our own home, scraping by on the bearest of means.

"We can't live like this anymore Tommy. This house is the same fucking size as a jail cell." I say turning to him, hoping he would see my desperation, the need for change.

Tommy sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Once I get into the avatar—"

"We'll be dead by the time you come back from your alien excursion, Tommy! We can't wait for you..." I snapped, anger and frustration boiling over. I paced up and down the thin strip of walkway of our cramped home, my thoughts racing.

"I can't do with you today." Tommy said, grabbing his coat, clearly preparing to leave.

"Do what Tommy? Talk about our planet and not some planet light years away?" Could he not see the urgency of our situation? Choosing to be shipped off to another planet like shit is sweet.

He turned to me, eyes hard. "Me going on this "alien excursion" is what is going to make you and Jake rich."

"How would we even know if you're alive Tommy? For all I know you could die as soon as you step out these doors," I shouted, my voice echoing in the small space.

"I guess we won't know Y/n, but at least I'm trying to do something instead of sitting on my ass sulking. Grow up Y/n." he retorted before slamming the door behind him.

I sank into the worn out couch, the weight of his words pressing down on me. Maybe he was right. All I ever did was sulk and think about a past that I barely remembered. After a while, I decided to take a walk around the city, maybe even have a drink or two.

The city is a maze of metal and neon, a contrast to the tiny shack we called home. People bustling about, faces all covered in masks of different sorts, the most popular being animals long extinct, tigers crossing the streets, panda bears walking the side walks, all animals we never stood a chance seeing thanks to those before us. Everyone was trying to escape something, it seemed.

I wandered aimlessly, my thoughts a chaotic mix of anger and sorrow. Eventually I found myself at the end of a alley outside of a dimly lit club. The sign above the exit door flickering intermittently, a barely readable 'exit' shown.

The sound of commotion in the alleyway catches my attention. I look down and see a group of people throwing someone out a building. My heart skips a beat as I squint to see better and recognize the figure—the man they're throwing out, is Jake. Panic surges through me as I realize they've thrown his wheelchair out of his reach, leaving him on the wet floor.

"Candy-ass bitch!" Jake yells, his voice thick with anger and frustration. Without hesitation, I dash into the alley, my pulse pounding in my ears.

As I reach him, Jake makes eye contact with me from the ground, his eyes filled with defiance and resignation. "Punk-ass bitches needed two people to handle one cripple," he says with a bitter laugh.

"Jake you could be seriously injured." I say, kneeling down in the rain beside him. I wrap my coat around the top half of hid body, trying to shield him from the cold downpour.

"They just lost themselves a customer," he mumbles, clearly drunk and rambling.

"Hey Y/n," he continues, his voice softer now, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Sorry for being such a pain in the ass to you and Tommy. I know you're just trying to help me out."

I feel a lump form in my throat as I listen to his apology. "Jake, you don't need to apologize. We're Sully's, and Sully's stick together." I say sitting down next to him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

We sit there in the rain, the world around us fading into the background. The rain continues to pour, soaking us to the bone, but we don't care. This moment of connection and understanding is worth every drop.

"Remember when we used to switch classes with Tommy during maths class cause he's the only one who understood anything." Jake chuckles, looking at me

"No, I don't, we might be triplets but only you and Tommy could pull that off," I say rolling my eyes " I had to sit there and take the tests like a champ." I say feeling a tang of nostalgia hit.

"I miss those days. Everything seemed simpler." Jake sighs, the weight of his earlier anger and frustration melting away with the breath.

"We were kids," I say softly. "The world was smaller, and our biggest worry was picking out which animal mask we would wear for the day."

Jake nods, his expression suggesting he isn't truly focused on the present. "Sully's stick together..." he lowly mutters to himself.

As we sit in the rain, the world around us quiets. The shared silence is comforting, a reminder that we're not alone in our grief.

The sound of footsteps echoes down the alley. I turn to find two men dressed in black suits staring down at us. "Y/n and Jake Sully? It's about your brother," one of them says, his voice cutting through the rain.

Jake tenses behind me, and I feel a knot of dread in my stomach. "What about him?" I ask, my voice steady despite a feeling of dread gnawing at me.

The man in the suit steps forward, his expression unreadable. "Come with us."

[previous part] [next part 4]

Tag list: @pinkvrydag @neytirismissingtoe @youskawng @tsuteyssyulang @lylalaminated @nonamevenus @ikeyniofthetayrangi @fatimatabintou @pink-sunrise-56

Note: I'm so sorry for the long wait. And for the short chapter mb:(

[natalievoncatte]

Cait wouldn’t leave her alone.

Every way Vi turned, she was there, but never more than a moment. Vi would turn sharply and see Cait in her stolen clothes from their first jaunt into the Undercity. The costume that Vi had taken for her was one of a dozen attempts to get rid of the mousy, timid little burden that was getting in her way as she hunted for her sister, for answers, for Silco. For someone made of meat that would bruise and split under her knuckles until she could beat ten years of her life out of them, ten years in hell.

Once she saw her dancing, free, without the grief that weighed her down like a suit of armor and choked the life and joy from her. This was another punishment- to see flashes of the girl she was before Vi’s *bullshit* wrecked her life. So full of life, so devastatingly beautiful, dancing in the dark with her skin aglow, and then she was gone and some shitbag was making over on her and got a broken jaw for his effort.

Cait was there when the world spun from the booze, and when ham sized fists cracked ribs and bruised organs to the point of bursting, when the grain alcohol scoured her throat with hot whips and hard knuckles chipped her skull and scrambled her brains. When her cheek hit the dirt she would come in brief flashes, soft fingers curled lovingly around her chin, huge eyes liquid with grief.

On those nights she made it home -or at least, crawled back to her shithole flip house- she would lie on her side and see Cait’s face filling her vision again, only to slide inevitably into nightmares and dreamscapes made torture by her absence.

She had done everything wrong and Cait was gone.

Most of the times. Sometimes she raged. That Piltie bitch promised she wouldn’t changed but she’d lied, she already had. Vi had given her everything, everything! Her name was shit down here, her family gone, her life gone. She was nothing but a rabid dog mauling other beasts until one day she’d get her throat torn out, just more trash. What had she called them? Animals?

She’d scream her name in a rage as the bottle shattered on the wall and plead for her as she gulped from the next one. Eventually even Loris stopped coming around.

“I’m not going to let you kill yourself, Violet. I’m definitely not going to help.”

“Then fuck off,” Vi snarled.

She didn’t know how long that had been. Down here in the lowest parts of the undercity, day wasn’t much different than night. She crawled back to the pits. She fought. She won, sometimes she lost. With blood knuckles and a feral grin or a busted lip and a feeling of coming apart inside her ribs, she’s take a bag of coins, give a few to the landlord and spend the rest on drink.

It was Cait’s voice she heard in the dark.

You’re not even eating.

“Go fuck yourself, cupcake,” she’d mutter, and some sump rat would stare at her like a madwoman, sometimes run his yap and get a pop in the jaw for it.

Eventually it’d happen. The booze-rot would eat its way to the outside, or something would break inside, or she’d throw hands with someone with a blade or a club and be too tired and drunk and fucked up to fight it and she’d be fucking free.

No more ghosts. The living do not haunt the dead.

She wasn’t sure how she got back here. She wasn’t even sure if she won the last bout. They were all melting together in a stew of pain, the meat within falling to shreds from boiling too long. Vi stared at herself in the cracked mirror, one little Vi surrounded by a dozen little ones, all splitting the same face, drawn and waxy and pale and marred by sooty black. She took a drink of her poison and shook the bottle, hearing the hollow slosh of the dregs, and tossed it, uncaring of it broke or not, if there were enough coins in the black bag to buy another.

Vi fell more than sat on the bed. Gravity did the rest and she fell on her side, wincing at the explosion of pain radiating from her flank. Cracked rib, most likely. She remembered now. She’d been careless, slow, tried to trap an uppercut meant to crack her sternum and kill her and took it in the rib instead. Every breath hurt. It would be easier to just not to, but she couldn’t stop.

Of course she was there. Cait lying in a silken heaven, big liquid eyes drinking Vi’s soul, full of such compassion and love. No one had looked at Vi like that since she was a child, looked past the grime and the scars and the hurt to just see her.

No one but Cait, and Cait left her.

Vi closed her eyes, ready as ever not to open them. When she felt a soft brush of fingers on her cheek she brushed them away. The visions could fuck off, she was tired.

“She’s not waking up,” Cait said, her voice tight with concern, stretching the clipped professional tone she used round her subordinates to its limit.

“She’s hurt badly,” a man said.

“Commander, we have to go. If someone spots you here they’ll tear us apart.”

“Loris, help me carry her.”

The worked carved red lines of pain through her as powerful hands lifted her from the bed.

This was odd. She’d imagined Cait everywhere but she’d always been alone. Why the hell was she hallucinating Loris? Sure, he was a fine drinking buddy and reminded her a little of Vander but he was hardly-

Oh.

Vi forced her eyes open, a struggle with how gummy and dry they were. The big man was carrying her in his arms and Maddie was comically struggling to carry an oversized bag weighed down by Vi’s atlas gauntlets.

Cait.

Cait was there. It was her. It was really her. Vi could feel her fingers probing her broke rib and see her and God she could smell her, Cait smelled like lilacs and how could anything smell so good in this fetid shithole?

“Cupcake?” she rasped.

“What is she, hungry?” Maddie muttered.

“Cait, get your hood up,” said Loris. “Vi, stay quiet. We’ll take the ventilation shafts, stay out of sight.”

Vi obliged the request by passing out.

It felt like hours in the dark. She’d wake, not knowing if she was in the dream world or the real, if these figures were carrying her to Piltover or hell. She would hear Cait’s voice, soft words to steady her and a gentle hand clasping hers when a jolt made her cry out in agony.

It was strangely easy to sleep while someone as carrying you.

When she woke, she knew she had to be in a dream. She’d dreamed this before- opening her eyes and seeing the elaborate silk canopy of Cait’s expansive bed in her palatial bedroom, big enough to build a Zaunite tenement inside. She would sit up, and Call Cait’s name and hear no answer. She’d rise and wander the halls and eventually make her way to the gardens and still no one would reply.

Vi would wander in an empty world forever, a specter with no one to torment.

No, it was different this time. She’d never dreamed of a thin tube connecting a bottle hanging over the bed to a needle taped in place on her arm. He dreams had never had the constricting feeling of bandages around her trunk, or wrapped around a dozen cuts on her arms and legs. In dreams her lips had never been dry, her throat never parched. The dream world traded in other kinds of pain.

She tried to speak but it was like her tongue was sandpaper, so she moved to sit up instead, gasping in agony as pain exploded in her side. She felt like shit, skin clammy with sour sweat, hurting all over and her head was pounding.

“Try not to move,” Cait whispered, suddenly there, a gentle hand pressing her back down. “You’ve a broken rib and internal injuries, and the withdrawal.”

“Caitlyn?” Vi managed to choke out.

Cait gently lifted her head, guided a glass to her lips. The water was ice cold and it was bliss. She closed her eyes and savored it as deeply as a fine wine. Not that she’d had much experience with that.

“Where am I?”

Cait hesitated.

Vi’s eyesight was clearing now as she blinked the gum away. Cait was pale and drawn, dark circles under her eyes from nights without sleep. There was a deep weariness in her eyes that made Vi’s heart ache. She looked for the spark that had always been there, but saw only faint embers, ready to be swept into nothing by the slightest air.

“I brought you home.”

Vi closed her eyes.

“You should have left me where you found me.”

“I shouldn’t have left you at all. I’ll never forgive myself.”

Cait curled her fingers around Vi’s, and squeezed.

“Yeah,” Vi rasped. “I know that feeling.”

[carlsangel]

BACK FROM THE DEAD

carl grimes x reader

(you run after the fall of alexandria.)

tags: angst, possibly squeamish shit i can’t tell, HAPPY ENDING WOOP

masterlist here!

You and Carl had been best friends since kindergarten. You experienced everything together, including the death of the entire world. You both watched the world crumble around you, you saw people you loved die and humans turn against each other despite the beings that are already trying to kill anything they can get their hands on. Or teeth on more so.

You were there for him when he got shot for the first time and when Lori died (also the birth of Judith). You were there when he’d turned into someone you’d never seen before, he was so cold and barely talked to you but you understood. You always understood him. He was being a dick but when he needed you most at the end of the phase, you were there. He couldn’t be more grateful to have someone like you.

You were together after the fall of the prison. Also, dealing with cannibals together wasn’t something you planned on doing but you did. It wasn’t surprising but…you didn’t think it’d ever get that far. Anyway from there you were on the road for what felt like a year, despite it being a couple weeks but he helped you stay hopeful that something or someone would come along and save you.

Alexandria was that something.

You were finally able to be normal again. You had a nice house, nicer than the two of you had lived in before. Before everything you and Carl actually lived next door. You had a perfect little routine, you’d wake up and get ready, head next door for breakfast and Lori would drive you and Carl to school. Your houses weren’t the biggest, they were lived in and very homey.

The Alexandria homes were quite similar although they were a lot larger, you finally felt like a family again. Dinners together, family game nights. However it didn’t last as long as you wanted it to. Of course something had to go wrong. Something about this particular experience was different from the rest.

You and Carl were separated. You left the walls to retrieve a comic that Carl had left by the tree before the horde in the quarry was even discovered. He didn’t mean to, he’d just forgotten it but you knew he was worried about his dad going out to deal with the horde. You knew if he had a proper distraction, he wouldn’t be as stressed. So, you left without saying a word because you wanted him to be surprised.

You’d brought a machete with you, the machete he was going to use to train Gabriel that same day. You’d hope to be home before he noticed. While you were out, you heard the loudest noise you’d heard in a long time, it made you realize how silent the world was. you grabbed the comic and stuffed it in your bag before running back to Alexandria. You got caught up in the hordes, you had to hide various times to not be seen. You were smart enough to bring kitchen timers with you for when you needed them.

It was about night when you finally reached the walls. It was a random wall clear of walkers, you weren’t exactly sure what side you be on. You heard what sounded like a child scream, then a woman. You finally scale the wall and peek over to see Ron pointing a gun at Rick. You’d barely even processed that the walls had been breached when she stabbed him in the chest from behind, his death grip pulling the trigger and releasing the bullet. Moments later you see Carl fall to the ground.

He’d just died right in front of you. You had no reason to be there, your only reason was gone.

So you ran and didn’t look back.

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

You lived off the small animals you found in the woods, it was a rough couple of years on your own. You refused to go back to Alexandria. You couldn’t live a life you were meant to live with Carl without him.

This resulted in a number of incidents that changed the trajectory of your life forever. About a year into being alone, you were shot by a man who’d been spiraling since the start. You stumbled upon his cabin and didn’t realize he’d been hiding inside ready to attack you.

He shot you in the thigh, the bullet didn’t go all the way through. You had to fight the man off and put him out of his misery to ensure your survival but even at that point you didn’t know if you even wanted to survive. You still were hung up on Carl, he was your true soulmate.

Anyway, you tried your best to dig the bullet out of your leg and you got most parts despite the excruciating pain, you almost passed out several times. You couldn’t help but feel stronger, however. Fragments of the bullet stayed in your leg, causing a limp you believed to wear off. It never did.

Not long after that you were hunting when you came across some walkers. They weren’t anything you couldn’t handle considering you’d practically been through hell and back. Then hell again and then back again. You get the idea.

You end up being able to handle them but with the way you did, you ended up getting a considerable amount of walker blood in your left eye. You didn’t think anything of it other than it had hurt essentially but you expected to wash it out and maybe it’d feel better.

But it didn’t.

It got severely infected and resulted in losing your eyesight. You were devastated obviously but you didn’t really get to see how extreme it looked until you’d found an old gas station and you looked in a bathroom mirror. You scared yourself so you resorted to wearing a makeshift eyepatch. Not that anyone would see you, but it made you feel better about it.

Little did you know, you were going in one big circle. You’d traveled far but after a couple years you found yourself back in the general area of Alexandria. You knew that because you found your and Carl’s tree. You reminisced about how everything used to be, even before the apocalypse.

You thought about it and as much as you hated to think about a life without Carl in Alexandria, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to return.

So you did just that.

You returned to the gates and you didn’t recognize the person guarding at the gate which you expected considering you hadn’t been there in about four years. You didn’t expect anyone to recognize you either. They motioned for someone to pull back the gate and when they did, you noticed how different Alexandria looked. There was a lot under construction, the houses looked different like they’d been repaired. You were unsure of anything that happened in the past couple years but you wanted to know if anyone you knew was still there.

You remained silent while the person at the gate greeted you like you were brand new, they mentioned Michonne and whether or not you could be approved to live there. You were happy to hear she was still alive, you didn’t doubt she would be. They basically talked your ear off, telling you about everything until they’d mentioned one name. Carl.

“We actually have a great doctor, Siddiq. Carl, one of the leaders here he saved him during the war-” You stopped them from rambling any further once you heard his name. “Carl? Carl Grimes?” The persons eyebrows furrowed in confusion, how did you know?

“Uh…yeah?” They reply wearily. “He’s alive?” You inquire, you already want to walk away to look for him but you need to know more. “I’m sorry, I hate to pry but like…are you from another settlement? Are you from Hilltop?” You shake your head. “I just need to know where Carl is, do you know where I can find him?”

The person looks you up and down. “Maybe we should get you checked out first. It doesn’t look like you’re well, you can get a shower and everything before you see him. He’s out anyway.” You think for a moment, realizing it was probably best you got checked on considering you’d been living in the wilderness for a couple years with no proper check up. You’d also suffered an eye infection that caused you to lose your eye, not to mention you were shot in the fucking leg.

You just couldn’t wait, you’d missed him so much. You did want to be presentable for him however. You cant come back from the dead to surprise your bestfriend looking the way you did. So you showered and put on fresh clothes. Afterwards you met with Siddiq and he helped clean your eye a bit, as well as giving you a proper eye patch to cover it. While with Siddiq, you were reunited with Michonne. She was ecstatic to see you and she knew Carl would be too, she’d told you that. You explained everything about how you ended up leaving after seeing Carl get shot and she understood. She was happy to see you back. She invited you to go greet him at the gates when he got home.

You waited for a while, you got a tour of new Alexandria while you waited. You reunited with some of the old group and you were explained how there are loads of settlements, also about the war.

When it was finally time to greet him back, you were out with the task to drag open the gate. When you did, he didn’t particularly notice but Michonne had to motion to you to get him to actually take a look at you. He was always so clueless.

He looked at you, looking at you intently and when he realized, all the tension from his face completely disappeared. He immediately embraced you with a hug, his face in your neck while you hugged him back tightly. You remain that way for a moment.

“I thought you were dead.” He tells you quietly.

“I thought you were too.”

a/n: sorry guys this took me forever to post rhejrhrjf SO i have some cooler things to be published soon, something written by a friend of mine and then after the next two like Carl fics i will have a couple carol fics come out :) currently have 10 things in my inbox, but this week is the week before finals so idk how quick i can get to everything, summer will be great though ill have stuff out consistently its just rn there’s a lot LOLL

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O is a little too drunk for New Year and kisses Skeleton's brother after the final countdown instead of their boyfriend. For the main 10.

Undertale Sans - He's not mad and that's actually pretty funny to see Papyrus so much in distress and getting lost in his apologies to his brother. Sans is so going to tease you about this for days though. You are too drunk to notice his shitty grin right now, but you'll regret it soon.

Undertale Papyrus - He opened his arms wide to kiss you, you ran past him and threw yourself on poor Sans who gave up hours ago and was just sleeping on the couch. Sans has no idea what's going on while Papyrus is frozen with his arms wide open, just a tiny little bit hurt. That's fine though, he can still kiss Undyne on the cheek he guesses. He's not mad for long though.

Underswap Sans - He should be mad, but poor Honey is entirely orange and desperately trying to escape your death grip on his spine, whining pitifully, and that's way too funny to get mad. Blue still comes to ask for his midnight kiss though, you're not stealing that from him, he deserved it.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey is not too happy about that. Even if Blue takes it lightly and thinks it's funny, Honey has been compared to his brother his entire life and he feels like his brother just stole the only thing he managed to get all by himself. Honey tries to show nothing, but he is a little more silent afterward.

Underfell Sans - Red is PISSED OFF. Of course, Edge would take that opportunity to try to antagonize him. You're so confused about what's happening when Red suddenly lunges at his brother's throat for no reason as they both roll on the ground like angry animals. No one is really shocked though. A party without people fighting for no reason is not a real party in their world.

Underfell Papyrus - If there's something Edge isn't willing to share, it's his S/O. He's mad at you, but he's even madder at his brother, despite him trying to push you away because he knew what would happen to him. Edge starts screaming at his brother, asking him what's his problem, Red gets mad for being screamed at for no reason... And here they are, rolling on the floor once again lol.

Horrortale Sans - Well you're lucky as Oak is already dead in the couch, snoring so loud the house is trembling, and doesn't notice anything. You're too small to kiss Willow anyway. Willow is just staring you down uncomfortably as you're jumping to try and kiss him, not sure what you're trying to achieve.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow is just confused as you suddenly crawl between his legs to jump on poor Oak. However, this is not a good idea to wake up Oak. You surprise him, he grabs your soul and throws you against the wall with his magic. Oopsie. Welp, good thing is you didn't kiss Oak so Willow is not mad at you. Bad news is you end your night at the hospital and there are so many people you're not going back home before the next night lol. Willow is still a little mad at you after six hours of sitting on an uncomfortable chair. Oak regrets nothing though, that's all your fault and he already forgot anyway.

Swapfell Sans - Ew. He's not mad at you, just disgusted. He doesn't know when his brother last bathed and now you're all contaminated. When you realize your mistake and turn around to kiss him, he put his hand in the way. Hell no, you're not kissing him before you brush your teeth at least five times. Rus is not offended, he thinks it's hilarious.

Swapfell Papyrus - He gasps audibly. You took Nox by surprise, but Nox is really loyal and he hates these types of interactions. He pushes you on your butt and starts to scream at you. You're too drunk though and just giggle at what he's saying, so Nox goes to fill a bucket with very cold water and throws it at your face to help you sober up. Rus is watching the whole time, not doing anything to save you.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He thought you just wanted to wish his brother a happy new year, but he freezes as you kiss him full mouth. The heck?! Wine crosses his arms like a stern parent and stares at you with pure disappointment. His face scares you somehow and you start to cry, then throw yourself at his legs to beg his pardon... and puke on his shoes. Wine won't talk to you for three days lol.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee runs after you when he understands what you're doing, but you still end up kissing Wine. There's a long silence as Wine stares at you in shock and pure offense, then Coffee jumps on his brother as Wine tries to stab you lol. Wine is not happy about this. Not only you're hurting his brother, but you dared to touch him, he's so angry at you. You better hide from him for a few days lol.

[evilfrogcereal29]

Pizza guy!Nikto - Chapter 1

(ok... This is going to be like, maybe one of the most weirdly specific fanfics you've ever read. For context: I work at a pizza place IRL. Thats it. Thats the only context. I was at work and. Thought about Nikto working there too. That's all you need to know. Enjoy :]!!!

This is going to be a Nikto x GN!customer!reader, but reader is NOT introduced in this chapter.

Cw/tws: mentions of violence- including towards an animal! I think thats all? Enjoy :)!!

NOTE: all text in red & italics are Nikto's voices

Nikto was bored.

Retirement was miserable, and Nikto found himself restless day in, and day out. Unable to find peace while wasting away at home. Sure, he had lot's of retirement money, but he had this urge to work, to kill. He would give anything to be on a plane to another mission right about now, but he was too 'broken'. That's what they basically told him. Too mentally unwell to keep working. A hazard to his own team.

Heh.

What the fuck do they know? They don't know what goes on in his head. So what he broke that recruit's arm? They touched him when he warned them of the consequences. Or who cares that he hit one of his higher-up's service dogs with the buggy? It should've been servicing it's owner, not under the damn vehicle! He's not a danger, the other voices are!

Speaking of voices, they aren't reacting well either, metaphorically biting away at Nikto's psyche each day he did fucking nothing. He felt useless, and they reminded him of that. You idiot, you deserve your suffering for being the way you are. Broken. Broken little solider.

He still gets calls from his mates in the service, especially Krueger, who always makes sure to call as often as possible to keep the man updated on missions, even if they didn't concern him anymore. He suggested that Nikto pick up a part-time job, not for the money, but the work. God (and Krueger) only knows what Nikto's mind gets upto when left to its own devices.

Nikto scoffed at first, he didn't like the idea of working at some measley fast food job, he was above that. He crawled through the fucking trenches and ripped out the throats of women and men, and would be reduced to... What? Cleaning a fucking stove? Heating up processed foods for weak civilians? No. He wouldn't. The voices mocked him, this is what we've been reduced to? Patheic.

And then the rot set in.

Krueger had been very insistant on a visit the second he had time away from work, flying out to see Nikto even as the man ignored his texts and calls. He wasn't dead, Krueger knew that, but he also wasn't in a good place. He couldn't let his companion live like this pathetic slob. Cause that's exactly what he was becoming.

Water and alcohol bottles littered the floor, stacks on stacks of old, half eaten take-out. Junk that should’ve been tossed long ago created walled barriers throughout the house. It was a scene out of horders, and the smell was awful. Christ. Krueger was no clean freak, but this? He'd rather sleep next to corpses than this cesspool of rotting filfth, and in the middle of it all, sat his balaclava-ed, smelly friend on the sofa. Krueger grimmaced, taking careful steps. He nearly stepped on poor Sputnik, who had become content with spending her days lazying about, peeing in places without Nikto's knowledge, and eating off his leftover scraps of food, growing just as lethargic as her owner.

"Nikto... Scheiße..” he would almost be outraged at the man’s carelessness if he didn’t understand how the other functioned, without a job, without a purpose, Nikto was truly a nobody. He lifted the man’s head with a gentleness, an action only someone like Krueger could get away with, looking into those glazed-over icy blues.

“This is… this is bad Nikto..” he mutters, eyes filled with..love? Concern? Something Nikto wasn’t used to often. Nikto finally shows evidence of life as his eyes flicker up in wordless understanding. Krueger continues,

"I can't stand to see you like this. You can't stand being like this. I'm going to help you."

Krueger lifts his friend up, albiet with mild arguing and growling from the disguntled bear of a man that Nikto is. He sets Nikto's cheap laptop on his lap and types in job sites, which already has Nikto tense.

"Krueger- чёрт побери! you're acting like my fucking mother-"

"good, about time someone comes in and wipes your ass, if not yourself." Krueger grumbles, scrolling through the job offers, "what's your SNILS...?"

After a painstaking back and forth, and Krueger prying for all of Nikto's personal info, he sent in a few applications on his friend's behalf. Patting the other on the back as Nikto's thumbs rubbed at his temples, fighting back the urge to pulverize his only real friend. You really should, he's a nuisance...

"this is... Not ideal.." Nikto finally grumbles, finishing the last of some lukewarm whisky from the bottle.

"none of this is, meine freund, but this...Is worse." Noone has ever seen them like this, so...domestic. In reality, this was as hard for Krueger as it was for Nikto, The Alligence wasn't the same without the Russian, fighting wasn't the same. Krueger rested a hand on his shoulder.

"everything is going to change, can you try to change a little with it?"

Change? Krueger wanted him to change? Was that even possible? He'd been so set in his ways ever since the incident. But the look in Krueger eyes let Nikto know that there wasn't really a choice.

What are you kidding? You could change as far as you could throw a boulder! Never!

He sighed, deeply. His shoulders slumping miserably as he exhaled.

"fine. But If we don't like the job-"

"ja, ja, you don't have to stay. I get it. I can't make you." He interupted, waving his hand dismissively, "but don't just give up right away. Can you promise me that?"

Nikto hated making promises, he hated feeling like he owed anyone anything, he didn't take on debts or deals. Go ahead, make more promises you can't keep. We know the truth.

Yet here he was, being interviewed by an elderly couple, who pitied him for his past as a solider.

"me and Martha are going to see how you fair in the kitchen, and if that's turns out to be too overwhelming we can move you to a more simple job like delivery. Just bring the customers their pizzas." The eldery man said with an acknowledging smile.

He nodded to the man, Michael, reaching across the table to shake his hand, thanking him begrudgingly for this... 'Opportunity'. Thats damn well what it was, but Nikto didn't quite see it that way yet. As he left with a work shirt displaying the place's name and logo, he felt his heart drop. And a shrill, annoying voice invading his mind.

You are truely a fucking Развалюха. Good luck ever trying to live a normal life!

And now Nikto was worried.

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

Hai :3 I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, I wanted to introduce reader in this first part but it was getting long and I also just wanted to get something out. There will be more chapters for this, but they might be kind of slow to come out😭 work takes up a LOT of my time tbh, but also working inspires me cause...yk pizza place setting so- its a double edged sword. But if you enjoyed pls like and reblog it means sm♥️♥️ ty for reading!!

And to the person who sent me an ask in my inbox about the relationship dynamics between NiktoKrueger + criminal!reader, I see u and ur creative vision, I started writing something today in response ;) just gimme some time!!!

Also an @ list for some mooties who I think would like to see this :3

@simp4konig @lizzy019 @fishsinsareacknowledged @zoloftwithdrawalnausea sorry If I missed anyone, lmk if you'd like to be tagged (or not tagged) in future chapters!!

[mayasaurusss]

Day fourteen: "Why don't you take that mask off? I want to see your face".

Your friend had the brilliant idea of going to the haunted house at the local fair. Something that you'd rather not do, but there was no hope in changing her mind.

"I don't want to go in there!" you cling at her shoulder, nails digging into her clothes. She swats you hand away, looking behind her to see how you look like a sad, scared puppy.

"We can't always stay at your home! And we can't always hang out at the kid's section of the fair! It's embarrassing".

You enter inside the haunted house: no one greets you, not the manager nor the scare actors. There's only darkness and old junk scattered on the floor. Given that there is no one around, the house results in less scary and more nerve wrecking.

You look into every corner to see if someone or something is lurking, waiting to strike; but there is nothing.

"Ugh...boring..." your friend's voice echoes inside the dark hall, far too loud. "I don't know how you can manage to find this boring. I am pissing myself over here" you walk closely behind her, tugging at her clothes.

Suddenly something shifts, your friend is yanked away from your grasp by something and you're left alone inside the hallway. "Where are you?!"

"I- -ver -ere-!". You can't make out the rest of her words; her voice is small and far from you.

Now, you are all alone. You can't see anything, can't hear anything, can't find a way back or forward. But then, a small huff of air tickles the skin of your neck, and you realize that it's someone's breath.

The person behind you huffs and puffs, like a rabid animal. Their breath echoes inside something, so you assume they must wear a mask.

A part of your brain tries to rationalize what is happening, but it's no use: you are inside a dark hallway, without knowledge of how to get out, with someone who is clearly stronger and faster than you and who God knows what could do to you.

You show them away, feeling their body fall to the ground and a grunt leaves their lips, before you run away, hearing their steps echo loudly behind you.

After bumping many times into corners and dead ends, you found a room to hide in. You can vaguely see the shape of a closet, a desk and an old bed frame. You hide under the desk, listening for any sounds.

After what feels like an eternity, the door creaks and someone enters. They are searching for you, stalking.

Their feet bump against something, the closet. The sound of metal scraping on the floor is loud and hurts your ears, the bed frame. Finally, you can see their black boots from under your hiding post, the desk. It's moved with surprising strength, now pushed to the right as you are left vulnerable.

They are wearing pitch black clothes, making them almost look invisible in the darkness of the room. You can only see their mask: torn apart eyes, coupled with a horrible full teeth smile. They stare at you, unmoving. They are wielding something, a knife maybe, but you can't understand if it's real or not.

Suddenly they are on top of you, pressing against your crotch and using one of their hands to hold up yours. You'd lie if you'd say you aren't terrified, but there is something weird about all of this. Mainly the fact that you can hear their labored breath and feel them squirming on top of you.

They look almost... turned on?

Maybe they're just tired from the run, maybe they are kinda turned on by you, but you will use this to your advantage. You lean into them, whispering in their ear, "Why don't you take that mask off? I'd like to see your face?".

They let go of you as if you have burnt them, their knife falling on the floor. You wriggle out of their grasp and run, exiting the room and leaving them behind.

Shauna yanks her mask off and leans on the wall, catching her breath. She must've been such a weirdo to get turned on by this little chase of yours, but she couldn't help it; you looked so good under her. She pushes her hair back with her fingers, dries her sweat off before sighing loudly. How is she supposed to go back to work now?

[majorasnightmare]

thinking about dirges dialogue to karlach way back in act 1, "this is all theres ever been for me"

thinking about how hes the only one without any frame of reference for "civilized life" or creature comforts

wyll and karlach have been roughing it for years, yeah, but they USED to have homes and houses in the city, used to live and sleep and eat there. used to have kitchens and beds

gale and shadowheart have only left THEIR homes relatively recently. the feel of their beds and the contents of the fridge are recent memories for them

astarion has been tortured for 200 years but fondly reminisces about the debauchery of the upper city. hes maintained a memory of the life he wants to experience again and the pleasures it brings, even as hes lost so much of his identity

lae'zel yearns to return to her creche. shes used to circumstances LIKE roughing it (she calls the rosymorn creche too soft for her liking) but those were in her HOME, with a community

minthara was a baenre with her own estate and servants

halsin was archdruid of the emerald grove, an environs enriched by the presence of the druids that had comfortably sustained them for years

jaheira has a house close to the upper city, and harper safehouses besides. minsc is familiar enough with them to recognize them despite being a statue for a century

its just dirge

he doesnt know what its like to sleep on a bed. to sleep on anything that isnt a bedroll on the ground, exposed to the open night sky. doesnt know what its like to have a roof overhead to keep the rain off. to have insulating walls that hold off the wind. to be comfortable without a fire that needs frequent tending, lest it go out and expose you to cold, or to scavenging animals. doesnt know what its like to not be woken by rain, to sleep through a storm.

hes never had a meal he didnt scavenge, picking through dead men's belongings and abandoned larders. every meal hes ever had has been raw or something he had to help prepare. hes never experienced being able to roll out of bed and stumble to a kitchen to have warm leftovers someone else made earlier, something made with him in mind thats warm and filling and didn't cost him any time or effort. you cant have leftovers when your trying to survive the wilds as fugitives from a murderous cult. you cook enough for everyone and you eat as much as you can stomach because you might not be able to eat at all tomorrow, and you need the strength to fight for your life later. hes never even seen kitchen equipment besides what could be scavenged that could fit over the campfire.

hes never bathed in anything that wasnt a river. never done his laundry except arduously, by hand, in a bucket of well water pulled from a village ruined long before his time. sweat and blood staining the only clothes hes ever owned, the only clothes he has, so if something rips he just has to make do. scavenging clothes that fit, that can be worn over his horns, around his tail, like looking for a needle in a haystack. soap is a rarity, an indulgence, so you make do with feeling as clean as you can scraping the grime off with water and your hands. he woke up covered in gore. hes never felt cleaner than this.

hes never had a head that didnt hurt. never woken up to a morning where the daylight didn't make him nauseous with its brightness. never had a body that didnt twitch and sway and swoon. never had a life without fear of fainting. never had a rest that didnt carry the threat of traitorous murderous indulgence. never had dreams that dont sicken. hes never felt rested. doesnt even have a frame of reference for what that sensation is even like. theres nothing to compare to. its as foreign as dwarvish to him. symbols without coherence or meaning. alien concepts, utterly novel.

every single day of his life is a fight against encroaching death. against encroaching enslavement. every single night is exposed to the elements in some fashion. theres no walls. theres no roof. a lot of times there isnt even a tent. the softest thing hes ever slept on was grass. there is nothing before this. theres only the tadpole in his skull, only the camp at night. only snippets of red in the fog of his past. the rest is lost to an all consuming oblivion.

theres only ever been...this for him.

[alexisomnias]

— PAW-TASTIC. . .

⤷ they're cats, wonder how insufferable they are?

featuring ACE , LEONA , JAMIL , IDIA , LILIA

 ACE TRAPPOLA

• Always at your feet trying to TRIP YOU. Literally can't walk without him running in front of you trying to introduce you to the floor.

• Expects you to spoil him when he wants to be spoiled, especially if your busy, otherwise he refuses all your affection??

• Very easy to distract, its quite funny. Just hang string and move it around a bit, and suddenly its just, "mind blank; only string!" So yeah, this method is especially effective with cat toys.

• Always on the counters for some reason. Even if you move him down from there 100 times he won't take the hint he can't be on there. Maybe he just likes high places? Makes him feel superior, maybe?

• Absolutely despises getting his claws trimmed. he likes them sharp so, don't cut them. Even though he most definitely isn't an outdoor cat, he likes having them sharp. Even though he cries and screams when he gets stuck in the couch and you have to get him out.

• YOU CAN'T LEAVE HIM ALONE FOR MORE THEN 2 DAYS WITHOUT HIM BECOMING VERY CLINGY. He's not one of those cats you can leave for days at a time unfortunately.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

• Leona's literally a cat in human form so he's not much different as a house-pet. He sleeps a lot. Definitely a napping cat.

• Literally will meow at you for hours until he gets pampered. He also likes to lay on the scratching posts, beds, couches and such. Comfy places.

• Very picky about his cat food. He specifically wants you to make him the wet food he likes even if you don't feel like making it for him.

• He doesn't go outside a lot. For the most part he'd lounge in the garden (if you have one) on the deck/patio in the sun, or on the lawn. Though for the most part he doesn't leave your property. He finds exploring and all that stuff a drag. He much prefer to stay where his treatment is good.

• He thinks your his slave. So yeah, one of those annoying cats who always expect something from you.

• Will knock shit off your counters, shelves, etc) just for your attention. Then he'd prance away like he didn't just break your thousand dollar vase.

JAMIL VIPER

• A very orderly cat. Rarely sheds, doesn't run around and minds his own. Jamil doesn't even really go on the couches or beds. He just minds his own on the.. floor.

• Hates cuddle time or being held, he prefers being on the ground, thank you! So good luck holding him and cuddling without a claw to the face. If your really eager to cuddle, I'd suggest always having his claws clipped.

• He doesn't like other animals, (especially cats). Whenever your not looking or not home, he gets into cat fights. Otherwise he's prefect and pretty

• At first glance you'd think he's an indoor cat, but he actually prefers it outside! He likes exploring and seeing what the outside has to offer! (he also really likes the sun.)

• For some reason??? he drinks water??? with his paw?? He eats like any other cat but for some reason Jamil just drinks with his paw.

• despises bugs with every part of his being. If he sees one he screams and cries for you, will not stop meowing until he knows its dead.

IDIA SHROUD

• DESPISES WATER, see's it, he screams and cries and will literally pass away. Y'know those cat videos of putting a cat in water and they fly and bounce off walls? Literally Idia.

• Runs around the house at top speed. Jumps on the scratching post, 'destroys' it, bounces off a wall, runs down the hall. Then crawls under the bed.

• Sleeps and hides under beds, behinds couches, etc). Enjoys darker places where he can wallow in despair/hj. He also uses these to hide if you have people he's not used to seeing over. Rarely comes out if you have guests over.

• Definitely an indoor cat, put him outside and he'll try to find a way back inside. Like through the window or something.

• He sheds a lot unfortunately. Probably a very fluffy cat that gets his fur all over your clothing and beds if you cuddle with him. Well, if he lets you cuddle with him!

• He actually doesn't mind other cats that much. He doesn't like playing with them or being around them though, he prefers to keep to his own. Especially if the cat is a jumpy one.

LILIA VANROUGE

• Will eat whatever insect or dead reptilian he can find. Taste buds are dead, you once caught Lilia eating a moth. It was gross.

• Super annoying when he wants to be. One of those cats who will knock at your door, scratching at it, and then once you open it he just stares up at you then walks away :')

• Will jump scare you. He likes hiding under your sheets, jumping out from random places, and running beneath your feet. Scares the soul out of you when he does this.

• An outdoor cat! He will leave for days then return home randomly. He normally doesn't go far, but he still enjoys being out of the house and exploring outside! Except during winter, then Lilia becomes an indoor cat.

• Enjoys sleeping and finding high places. he hangs out on shelves and such.

• Lilia is a cat that actually likes water. Spraying him to get off of counters no longer works since he just doesn't mind it.