#also gasped and yowled a bit

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

56. Prey (2022)

[vivwritesfics]

Grandparents

Jimmy is a frisky little fuck, gets the neighbour cat pregnant. But hey, that's an excuse for the neighbour cats owner to introduce her to the pretty man with the mesmerising blue eyes who also can't wait to become a cat grand parent

1.7K

Beaver had been acting incredibly strange. When her owner acquired her (literally rescued the little cat from a bin - she had been sitting in the apartment dumpster literally chewing a bit of wood, how she got her name), she had never been one to beg for food. 

In the three years she'd owned Beaver, she'd always filled up her bowl in the morning, and then Beaver would sporadically eat from it. She'd never finish the bowl before noon and then yowl for more. 

And Beaver was definitely getting fat. 

Her owner was incredibly worried.

She scheduled an appointment with the vets and then spent maybe two hours trying to coax Beaver into her cat carrier. But the cat was a wild child. If she didn't want to do something, she wasn't going to do it. 

The cat carrier idea was abandoned. "I kinda hate you," her owner muttered with little conviction as she scooped Beaver up into a blanket and left the apartment. 

It was a little awkward, carrying a cat through Monaco like it was a baby. But Beaver was pretty happy to lay in her arms, happier than she would have been in the cat carrier. 

When, at last, they got to the vets, they were the only beings in the waiting room. Thank God, the last thing she needed was a dog freaking Beaver out, or Beaver chasing somebody's pet rodent across the room. 

She couldn't stop her knee from bouncing as they waited to be called. Her eyes couldnt stop drifting across the room, to that ugly, magnified picture of a tick. When they were called (which didn't take too long, maybe everybody else's pets were thriving that day), she carried adjusted her grip on Beaver and carried her into the waiting room. 

Pregnant. Her mangy little street cat who she loved more than anything was pregnant. "Beaver, you hoe," she mumbled as they walked out of the vets office. But then she looked at Beavers swollen belly. She had kittens in there.

Who the hell was the father? Beaver hadn't left her apartment (by choice), so who had gotten her pregnant?

She didn't mean to gasp as loudly as she did. In the hall of the apartment complex, she stopped walking to look at Beaver, her eyes wide. "It's the neighbours cat, isn't it?" She asked, but Beaver didn't confirm or deny. 

But it madde sense, didn't it? The neighbours cat had a habit of breaking into her balcony to check Beaver out. It wouldn't be a surprise if he and Beaver got busy while she was at work. 

"Well," she said to Beaver as she unlocked the apartment door, "at least you've got taste." 

Yeah, the neighbours cat was pretty beautiful. A Bengal, if she knew her cat breeds (which, she barely did). And his owner wasn't bad to look at either. 

The owner that she should probably inform of what was going on. 

She placed Beaver down on the sofa, and she climbed out of the blanket. "Okay, Bea," she said, holding out her hand (so that Beaver could push her head against it). "I'm gonna go and tell your baby daddy's dad what's going on. You stay here and... try not to let any more boy cats in." 

Beaver ignored her and made her way to the bedroom. 

Standing up straight, she brushed the loose cat hairs from her jacket. She grabbed her keys from the side and made her way out of the apartment, to the one just above her own. 

As she waited outside of her cats baby daddy's owners apartment, she could hear an incredible amount of commotion from inside. Well, I say commotion, but it was one single voice, sometimes shouting. She raised her knuckles to the door and knocked. 

The shouting stopped. Their was a pause, so long that she thought he wouldn't answer, before he pulled open the door. 

Eyes so pretty she got lost in them, and quite literally forgot what she was going to say. She'd never properly met her neighbour before, just seen him when walking through the building. Her mind blanked as she continued to stare into those pretty blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" Her neighbour prompted, and she shook herself out of whatever trance he had her under. Witchcraft, I tell you. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry to bother you but I live in the apartment beneath you with my cat, Beaver, and I think your cat might have gotten mine pregnant."

His face dropped, and then a smile split across it. "Really?" He asked, and she nodded. "Jimmy is going to be a dad?”

"If Jimmy is the pretty little Bengal that Beaver is obsessed with, then yeah, Jimmy is gonna be a dad," she answered, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Suddenly he was reaching into his apartment and grabbing a set of keys. "Can I come meet the momma?" He asked, his voice so excited. How could she say no to that?

On the short journey form his apartment to her own, they introduced themselves. Max was Jimmy's dad, and he was a car mechanic (okay this girl clearly didn't know who Max was, and he didn't want to come out with the whole F1 driver thing. So he took a leaf out of Daniels book and called himself a car mechanic).

(She thought it was a little weird, how did a car mechanic afford a luxury apartment in Monaco? Maybe he was a car mechanic to the stars or something).

"Why is she called Beaver?" Asked Max as she pushed her key into the lock on her apartment door.

She didn't judge him for asking, it was an incredibly strange name for a cat. "Well, when I found her she was chewing this bit of wood and she looked sort of like a mangy little beaver. Turns out she was just a mangy little cat," she said and let Max in.

They might have been in the same building, but her apartment was much smaller than his own. A lot more full, too. Where Max had little else beside his set up in his living room, she had so much stuff. A fluffy colourful rug, a sofa big enough for a whole group of people, a cabinet full of DVDs.

"The little miss is probably in my bedroom," she muttered as she kicked off her shoes. "I'll go and get her."

Max kicked off his own shoes. He took a moment to look around properly, careful not to invade her privacy.

She emerged just a few moments later from a little way down the hall, a little black and white cat in her arms. "This is Beaver," she said, holding the purring kitten towards him.

"Hi Beaver," said Max as he took her from her hands. "I'm Max, Jimmy's dad. You're gonna make me the happiest cat grandpa out there."

Beaver pushed her head against Max's, still purring. "She likes you," said her owner as she sat on the couch.

"They're gonna have the prettiest babies," Max said as he sat beside her, Beaver happily sitting in his lap. As carefully as he could, Max fished his phone out of his pocket and passed it to her. "Give me your number, just in case you guys need anything."

But it wasn't just in case they needed anything. After Max went back to his apartment, they texted almost constantly. It started off being about the cats, but then it went further (I say further, but it was just them sending each other memes, giggling from behind their phone screens as they laid in their respective beds).

Max invited her out for dinner maybe a week before the kittens were born. It wasn't anything fancy; he was just craving something unhealthy and he wanted some company.

And then the kittens were born. As Beaver hid herself away in her closet, she pressed her phone to her ear. "C'mon Max, pick the fuck up" she whispered as she sat on her bed.

She was panicking, admittedly. But who could blame her? Her cat was about to give birth!

Max finally picked up his phone. "Hey, I'm at the pet store. What sort of bed should we get for momma and babies?" He asked, sounding all too relaxed.

"Shut the fuck up and get your ass over here!" She cried. "The babies are coming!"

Max ran out of the pet store. He'd never moved so quick in his life (not with his own two legs, at least). In ten minutes flat he was outside of her apartment door, knocking insistently.

Max was just as stressed as she was. But, upon seeing the look on her face, Max let the stress drop. "She'll be okay," he said, pulling her close for just a moment. For a moment was all they had; they had to get to Beaver.

He took charge, sitting her on the bed with a glass of water. The two of them waited while Beaver gave birth. There wasn't much more they could do. Once the kittens were born, Max brought in towels and blankets. He kept a nice distance to her while he set up a lovely warm bed for her and the kittens.

"They're beautiful," he said, not daring to pick them up. "Should we bring Jimmy down here to meet them?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. Let momma and babies rest," she said, laying her head on Max's shoulder.

He squeezed her. "We're gonna be the best cat grandparents," he said. When she held up her hand, Max gave her a high five.

"Can the grandpa take the grandma out for dinner? Is that something a new cat grandparent would enjoy?" He asked, looking down at her with her head still on his shoulder.

She hadn't yet taken her eyes away from the kitten. "Real dinner? Or you just want company?"

"Real dinner, date dinner."

"Love it."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery VIII

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You go to the cat shelter

If Ingrid was getting you a cat then she would do it properly.

She'd researched cat shelters. She'd found one that had a recent intake of kittens.

A cat was a lifelong friend and you and your cat deserved to grow up together.

She'd contacted the shelter and arranged a visit.

Ingrid knew today would be the day you got your cat so she'd prepared with a carrier and some blankets. She'd expected you to get attached to the kittens, to want to keep all of them and she'd already planned out a speech on why you could only have one, two if they were particularly closely bonded.

Somehow, the alternative was much worse.

You hadn't gotten attached to the kittens at all. You'd had a lot of fun playing with them but none had sparked a bond with you.

So, Ingrid resigned herself to you having a full grown cat as your companion. It wasn't the growing up together idea she had planned but that was okay.

Ingrid watches as you go through the rows of enclosures full of cats. She's content to let you and Mapi take the lead, equally as excited as each other and feeding off each other's energy.

You gasp and Ingrid looks up from her phone.

"I love them!"

At first, Ingrid is glad that you've found a cat that you seem to like but then she looks at Mapi and goes pale. Mapi's eyes are wide and she's furiously shaking her head at Ingrid.

Mapi can deny you nothing so Ingrid knows it's up to her to guide you away from this decision.

Though she isn't quite sure why Mapi isn't happy that you've found your forever friend.

Well...maybe because it's not one forever friend but two.

Ingrid's face mimics Mapi's perfectly as she peers into the cage.

Two cats sit inside.

One is truly a monstrosity. It's massive with long, ginger fur and a tuft that reaches all around its neck like a mane. Its face is reminiscent of a lion as well, all regal and judgemental.

The second is also a ginger tabby but the size of a regular cat. Or, it would be if it wasn't the fattest cat Ingrid has ever seen. It's practically a circle and she wonders briefly how it's even supporting its own weight as it wanders over to where you've stuck your fingers through the arms.

"I see you've found our gingers."

Ingrid nearly screams as one of the shelter workers approach.

"They were surrendered by a nice old lady who couldn't care for them anymore."

Mapi scoffs. "Yeah, looks like she really cared for them." She's pointedly looking at the chunky cat that has now rolled onto its back for belly tickles that you strain through the bars to give it.

The shelter worker winces. "Yeah, he's a little fat, isn't he?"

"Not fat!" You snap," Cuddle sized!"

The worker laughs a little bit. "He does give good cuddles. But he's on a weight loss program. Believe it or not he was much larger when he arrived."

Ingrid can't believe it because this cat is truly round and she can't imagine it being fatter than it is now.

"And of course, we've got his young friend there. They were surrendered together so they're very attached. They're bonded so we can't let one go without the other."

"Here that, cub?" Ingrid decides to break it to you now. "We can't bring one of them home without the other. Say goodbye now and we'll go and look at the kittens again."

You pout, drawing your hand away from the fat cat. "Bye-bye."

You turn to leave, Mapi already halfway across the room to see the kittens again before a loud yowling chirp freezes you in your tracks.

The big lion cat keeps warbling until you turn to face it.

"Sorry," You say," Mama says we can't take you away from each other."

As if he knows who to blame, the lion cat hisses at Ingrid before purring as he rubs his body across the bars of the cage. His fat companion remains flopped on his back in invitation (though Ingrid's ninety percent sure it's because he's so fat that he can't actually get up again).

Ingrid tries to guide you away but the lion cat keeps calling for your attention and the fat cat stays on his back for belly tickles.

She looks at Mapi for help.

"No," She says, catching Mapi's apologetic look," Mapi, no. He's fat and the other one is a monstrosity."

"Ingrid..."

"Mapi! You can't be serious!"

"We agreed on getting her a cat."

"Yes, a cat! One cat!"

"You said two at a stretch," You say quite unhelpfully. Over the course of the argument, you've somehow gotten into the cage and are sitting on the floor happily as you give the fat cat belly tickles while the monster sits in your lap.

"Oh, yeah, you did say that Ingrid."

"Mapi, whose side are you on right now?"

"Er...I'll be quiet. Cub, if you want the cats you need to convince Ingrid."

"I won't be convinced."

You stay silent for a long while even as Ingrid tries to get you moving.

Eventually, you stand and approach her. The fat cat is dangling from your hands as you present him like baby Simba. The lion cat sits at your feet, teeth bared in warning should Ingrid deny you.

"I love them!" You tell Ingrid earnestly," They're both cuddle sized and I love them a lot!"

"Cub," Ingrid says," They might be mean to Bagheera. You don't want Bagheera to feel sad, do you?"

"Actually," The damned shelter worker says," They're both perfectly good with other cats."

"Well..." Ingrid desperately tries to come up with another excuse.

"Mama," You say," Please?" Your eyes glisten with unshed tears as the fat cat mews pitifully at Ingrid.

She sighs.

"Cub, if I let you-"

"Mami! Mama's letting me keep them!" You tell Mapi triumphantly who gives you the biggest fake smile in the world.

"That's great, Cub!" She tells you before muttering under her breath to Ingrid," How could you let this happen?! The monster is going to kill me in my sleep! And the fat one is going to eat all our food!"

"How is this my fault?!" Ingrid hisses back, already reaching to take the paperwork," You're the one that left it up to me!"

"Because you're meant to be the strong one! We both know I would have caved much earlier! Why couldn't you be strong, Ingrid? Why?"

Ingrid signs her name on all of the papers and sighs. "Because she was about to cry and the monster looked like he was about to bite me."

Both of them turn to look at where you're still cuddling with the fat one. The monster is staring back at them, unblinking as it flicks its ear dismissively.

"Are we sure that's a cat?" Mapi checks," I think we should call the zoo."

"It might eat us before that..."

You seem happy though, a beaming smile on your face all the way home.

Both cats make themselves at home. The fat one finds Bagheera's usual sunspot and flops down. His whole body stretches out as he snoozes easily.

The monster immediately jumps onto the kitchen counters to survey his new kingdom and you dart around setting out the new bowls and toys before grinning at Ingrid and Mapi, who are awestruck at how brazen these new cats are.

Bagheera seems to be similarly shocked and a tad judgemental as she pokes her head out of her cat tree to stare.

"He is Garfield," You point at the fat one," Because he is round and cuddle sized." You point at the monster. "And that's León because he is my little lion."

In no way would Ingrid describe that cat as little.

Mapi, for the first time today, decides to be helpful. "You can't call him León," She says," That's our surname. He's León León."

You nod. "I know. It's a pretty name for a pretty lion."

Ingrid wouldn't describe him as pretty either.

"Garfield and León-León," You say with an air of finality," Mami, Mama, thank you for my kitties!"

[peachetteprice]

Stern Captain John Price...

...Who is a total dog guy through-and-through but eventually succumbs to your cat's pretty face. It isn't an evening with him in your apartment without him muttering, whilst he's cooking;

"What?"

"Hey!"

"What's the matter, lovie?"

"What is it, darlin'?"

"Dearie me, you're very vocal today, ain't ya?"

Every time she meows for attention. In a voice so tender that you know he's never used on you. He relentlessly volunteers to feed the poor thing and asks if she can have more biscuits, despite your warnings that the vet advised not to over-feed her (because she's the most determined scavenger you know - you'd think she was a character on Lost with how desperately she screeches for any morsel of food in her immediate vicinity), but he still frowns, waits five minutes, then sneaks her a handful of biscuits - from his palm, which she gladly takes, because again, Lost, as well as him knowing that you'll hear it if they clatter into the dish - all the while, during which, he ensures via a dozen glances over his shoulder that you aren't about to chastise him for it.

Sweet John thinks you haven't noticed the extra chunkiness around her primordial pouch, but you have - you're just too kind to say anything about it (and you secretly adore the way his eyebrows raise whenever you announce that it's feeding time).

Do not be deceived that he won't still insist that he's a dog person.

Because he will.

Every damn time he comes around will he see your cat, fold his arms and say "you know, I'm more of a dog person, I am", only to rush to the couch and wait patiently - never staring, never moving a muscle because he initially assumes all cats are jittery, distrustful creatures worthy of the attention of a God, not a mere mortal such as himself (and he's not wrong with half of that drivel) - until she clambours on his lap and curls into a shrimp.

He gasps the first time it happens and exclaims;

"Love!" And tilts his head to her like she's a statue that he needs a secondary opinion to be given of whether it's moved before he checks (it has not).

Unfortunately, with all of the sweet things he does, he also actively asks if there's any housework to be done whilst he's over. Oh, because he wants to do it like the gentleman he is, considering you routinely give up your bed, body, and fridge for him? No. Silly! He wants to make sure you're running around like a headless chicken so that he can have a few more minutes of your cat sleeping in his lap, because as soon as your arse hits the cushions, she chirps up and crawls over to yours, instead.

He's a little bit confused when it comes to cats. He often watches her sleep, palms his beard, gives her a point - the same one he gives when he tells his boys off - and asks, most sincerely;

"Is she comfy like that, love? Won't her head ache after a while?"

But, oh, John, she's loafing! It's her natural state.

It takes him a long while to adjust to the various positions in which she clumps, the variable number of nicknames you give her on the daily, and the variety of noises your lips make as you call her to you, but John's a fast learner. Soon enough, she'd rather saunter his way and arch herself along his shin with a saccharine meow than respond to the fact that she needs flea-ing, even if you need her here, now.

Otherwise, she'll dirty the place up, and John'll complain about having an itchy beard again!

And we can't have that happen, because he spent all of ten minutes combing his beard - the same one she nuzzled her chin up against a few days prior - whilst you were undressed in bed, sighing, somewhat cold, waiting until he'd checked it thoroughly before he gave himself the all clear to eat you out until you came.

And the very next morning, what did he do?

He opened the bedroom door - only wearing his boxers - and carted her in to wake you up, yowling and purring. And, though you love her, and you wish nothing but happiness for her, it was something of a rude awakening when you'd rather be fast asleep, repenting for the hours of sleep you'd lost from being fucked within an inch of your life. It's something he catches onto, thank God, as he scoops her up by the belly - shit, he's getting really good at that - and tosses her out of the room, before sinking into the sheets once more to pepper kisses along your bare skin until, finally, begrudgingly, you wake up and he can play with her again!

(Oh, but he'll never admit he actually likes the thing. No. Never. Any emotion resembling that of pleasure is purely on behalf of you. It's what he thinks you'd like... and, with that being said...)

God forbid you make the mistake of mentioning wanting another cat because as soon as you do, he'll slam his phone on the counter, give you a positively wide-eyed stare - almost like a kid on Christmas - and insist that you should. Well, only because your cat needs a friend whilst you're both gone (despite the fact that she's four years old already...)

And, of course, with that territory comes a dozen screenshots of cats for adoption from Pets4Homes, Pre-loved and various animal trust websites that he think will be a perfect fit for your cat - when he really should be finalising paperwork - complete with a bemoaning message of:

Not trying to sway you in any direction, gorgeous.

Except he is.

Oh, and... what's that? Oh, yeah. It fucking works.

Because barely three months after he made his mark in your flat, are you placing a carrier containing a little tortoiseshell kitten (his favourite listing that he sent on the daily, and practically wa-hey-ed with delight during a very very serious briefing with Laswell at the prospect of being home that night to meet the kiddo) before the closed carrier of your cat, and - almost as if it was fate, played by the hand of God himself (John, that is) - they're more than happy to co-habit, and John's soon finding ways to sneak them both shreds of leftover roast chicken every Sunday.

The cheeky sod.

| Masterlist |

[domreaderheadcannonscenarios]

😭IM BEING SO GREEDY IN THIS ASK BOX BUT a sequel with ronove + praise and overstimulation?

(Previously onTormentung Ronove.)

Dw! We all have characters we thirst for! (Also idk why I cant find dom writers in this fandom??)

Also it’s criminal only the kings have other artwork…

Ronove

Cw: overstim, praise kink,

-

Ronove was trembling, his cock leaking to the point you wonder if he’ll have anything left when you finally let him finish. You decided to be merciful and slip the ring of his manhood. He instantly noticed and bucked up to try ABD rub against you hand.

You used your free hand to stroke him fast. “Be a good boy, finish quickly, ok? Don’t keep me waiting…” You can hear his voice going up in octaves as his release approaches, you don’t slow down and let him thrust up to meet your touch. He cries out as he finally cums. He tenses and rolls his hips forwards in an attempt to continue the pleasure.

You wait till his cock stops fountaining cum before licking the head. The high pitched yelp lets you know that his sensitivity has gone up, in response you harshly suck on his cock as he trembles and writhes under you. You ignore the whines he lets out, when you open your eyes and look up, you can see his stomach tensing in anticipation of the overwhelming pleasure.

You slip his cock out of your mouth, stroking hun and using the salvia to lube his cock. “That looked like it felt good, ready for more?” He whimpered and shook his head. “No? But you were begging for this a moment ago…”

Your hand doesn’t stop, he’s left gasping at the near painful pleasure you were teasing his shaft with. “But…you’re taking this so well…as your rewards I’ll let you cum as many tunes as you want!”

He sobs in what you cant tell is excitement, pain or a mix of the two.

You lean down and focus on rubbing the head of his shaft while you licked under it teasingly. Ronove gave desperate whimpers as his cock pulsed in your hands. You watch in amusement as the muscles in his stomach keep tending and he starts yanking the restraints again, seconds later you feel hit cum gush out to head of his cock.

He’s gasping in 6 aftermath as he tries to wiggle free. You stop licking his gushing cock and pant over it, watching in amusement as he flinched.

“You’re so good…fuck I should milk you more often.” He impulsively bucked forwards, dragging his cock through more overstimulation. “Oh, you like that? Maybe I’ll tie a wand up to your cock and leave on its highest setting,” Your thumb pressed under his leaking tip. “Riight here, and tie it to your prick while I sit back and watch.”

He keeps and continues to yelp and try to speak, out of mercy you remove the gag. “N-need a b-break I-I cant-!

He yowled while you squeezed the head of his manhood. “But you’re still pent up! Be a good boy and take it for a bit me, mkay?” Ronove whines out a protest, drool from the gag still on his face as he looks at you.

“Y-yess, I-im good boy!” He whines out, his cock throbbing in your hand as he teeters to another painful orgasm.

[authurials]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 . decisions, decisions

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 . link

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 . talks of violence, strong language, abuse of power

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 . finally finished chapter four--enjoy! as always this chapter has also been cross-posted over ao3, so if you prefer to read over there you can.

𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, Keeley had had a penchant for chasing the stray cats of Lorath, herding them towards the heart of the city where the bustle of the market could be found. She had found it humorous–the way the felines would visit each and every stall as if they were interested patrons with coins to spare, and not simply starving animals begging for a scrap; and if they were lucky, both cat and girl would be given a spare piece of stale bread from the day before, with perhaps a piece of meat or fish to go alongside it. Then, once they had finished with their meal, with greasy fingers and the taste of salt on her tongue, Keeley would resume her pursuit of her friends until her mother would call her home just as the sun began to disappear behind the sea line. Those moments had been the fondest of her childhood memories–

Until the incident.

It was on one of these occasions that Keeley had wandered further than she ever had from the familiar cobbled paths that led to and from the market stalls, on the tail of a particularly stubborn tom cat that she had never seen before until that day. He had been a skinny little thing, ribs defined under his patchy gray fur, teeth chipped and yellow as he bared them in a hiss at the young girl; it had only taken one step in his direction for him to turn tail and run down an alleyway with Keeley not far behind. She could not have been older than seven at the time, a waif of a thing with a dirty face and scabbed knees and palms from her many falls; one in particular had occurred earlier that day, leaving her shin a bloodied mess, scarlet flowing once more freely against her ashen skin as she disturbed the shallow wound with her running.

She had gotten distracted by the chase, trying her best to keep the tomcat within sight as she followed his every twist and turn down the back alleys of the city until she no longer recognized her surroundings; deeper and deeper he had taken her, darting over and around obstacles while her clumsy, short legs struggled to keep up. She remembered the ache of her bones, masked under the thrill of the chase and the beating of her heart–the way it had slammed against her chest….

The cat had once more turned a corner, warning yowl sounding off as Keeley watched the gray blur of its body dash out of sight. She had ran faster, not wanting to lose him, the sound of her laughter echoing off the stone walls that flanked them on either side–

Cut off by another yowl.

Keeley remembered stopping, confused and out of breath as she hesitated to continue, listening to the scuffle occurring out of sight. Foolishly, she had stepped forward after a moment, slowly and quietly approaching the corner of the alleyway until she could peer around its edge discreetly; holding in a gasp, the little girl had taken in the scene before her, remaining still and quiet–

Watching as a rabid mutt devoured the dead tomcat.

Its fur had been matted, ribs jutting out, sharp edges under thin skin–a testament to its hunger, same as the way it had desperately tore at the fresh carcass beneath it. The dog had been frothing at the mouth, grunting and growling as it ripped off piece after piece, wolfing it down and licking its bloodied muzzle.

And the tomcat–

It had laid there uselessly, gone from the world, its rib cage torn asunder and the viscera of its organs spilled out across cobbled stone like one of the beautifully vibrant paintings her father peddled at his stall in the market; all the while its murderer gnawed at its bones–sucking off every last bit of meat.

Keeley had not meant to gasp, she could remember that part clearly–that and the blackness of the hunter’s eyes as they looked up and finally acknowledged the young girl’s presence. Body tensed, the rabid mutt had gnashed at her with scarlet stained canines, ready to pounce–

In quite the same fashion, King Aemond now looked at a grown Keeley, who tried her best not to let her cowardice show as she squared her shoulders and uncomfortably cleared her throat, “I was not expecting you, my king.”

“I do not make a habit of asking my servants for permission to see my son,” Aemond replies cooly, his gaze flicking briefly to the gurgling infant in his arms before locking back on Keeley.

“O-Of course, your grace,” the woman stuttered, feeling warmth spread across her face and down to her neck and shoulders. “I simply meant that I would have better prepared the prince for your visit, had I known.”

“That’s of little importance,” the king hummed, his eye flicking over to Ser Draven, who was busy assessing the obvious tension between the wet nurse and his grace. “Ser Draven, I would hear Keeley’s report of my son’s progress–alone. Leave us.”

Alone–a singular word that held the promise of many. There was no telling what the king’s true intention was in sending his son’s sworn protector from the room; though it was quite apparent that it did not bode well for the woman that stood there, stock still, the sound of her name on King Aemond’s lips ringing in her ears as her friend bowed his head tensely:

“As you wish, my king.”

Ser Draven turned to leave, but not before throwing a look of concern in Keeley’s direction, she returned it with a shaky smile of her own, hoping it conveyed some semblance of reassurance as the knight strode out of the room. As the doors to the chamber closed once more, the woman looked down at her hands, clasped in front of her, the skin on her knuckles pulled taunt and white from the force of her grip. She did not look up as she heard the king’s footsteps, fading slightly as he walked a few feet away, speaking quietly to the infant in his arms; Keeley could make out the words well enough to know that they were in a different language, the dialect was smooth and rolled off the Targaryen’s tongue with ease, suggesting years of practice.

Keeley raised her gaze high enough to see the king place the babe gently back into his crib, an unreadable expression on an otherwise trained face as he looked down at his son. For a moment, silence stretched out before the pair, uncomfortable yet welcome, at least for the woman–

She did not know what to say to this man. 

She did not know what he would say to her.

“I had every intention of having my guards drag you back to my chambers last night,” his grace finally spoke, his words like a cascade of icy rain washing over Keeley.

“Your grace?” She frowned, bowing her head once more to look at her hands; she could once more feel his penetrating gaze, and had no desire to meet it. Her heart was like a battering ram, slamming hard and rhythmically against the wall of her chest, she swore that if she only listened close enough she would hear it beating.

“It was bold of you to run,” he continues, a hint of amusement and something else in the tone of his voice. “Foolish but bold.”

“My king, I am-”

Her only defense would be to sow for mercy, however likely it was to come, apparent in the way the king cut her off with his next words:

“Enough–I did not give you leave to speak.”

His words were even and firm, leaving no space for objection as she once more heard his footsteps make their way across the floor–only this time they were towards her. She bid herself not to flinch and cower as his shadow fell over her, his torso came into view, the details of his black leather doublet clear from proximity; from this close up Keeley could make out the finely carved out lines and subtle green tone of the fabric, she could also pick up the faint scent of sandalwood and smoke. The smell tickled her nose pleasingly, and under different circumstances she might find some comfort in it, but it was all too overwhelming as she wilted under the king’s piercing stare.

“Were I a less merciful king, I would have you stripped and hung up by your wrists,” he hummed coldly, stepping around her as he assessed her figure–gaze critical, looking for any sign of faltering weakness; still she kept her gaze from him, practically holding her breath as she waited for him to continue. “I would have you at my mercy, taking your punishment out on your flesh….”

He reached a hand out, fingers reaching under her chin so he could manipulate her head up, maneuvering her eyes slowly to meet his own singular one; he held her there, unblinking, as he spoke once more, “I would have you bleeding and begging–were I a crueler king.”

Keeley shook visibly in his hold, eyes wide and feeling slightly watery as she forced herself to remain as calm as possible, resisting the urge to spurn his touch and once more flee from his presence. Her eyes flicked away from his and over his shoulder, locking on the crib where she could hear the soft noises of her charge, she sucked in a shuddery breath as she willed herself to remain still.

“Instead, I would have your penance in the form of your company,” the Targaryen man smoothed a gloved thumb over the soft arch of her jaw,  once more bringing her back to look at him with surprising gentleness. A small frown curves downward the corner of Keeley’s lips as she looks at him, confused; the man raises his eyebrow expectantly in question, awaiting her response.

“I….I do not understand, your grace,” the wet nurse began, attempting to turn and pull her face away from his touch, he maintains his hold, adding additional pressure to keep her from moving any further; she winces, not from pain but from the nerves, unable to meet his gaze as she awaits his reply.

“Dinner, tonight,” the king hums simply, “you will be there.”

Keeley’s eyes shoot back to his face, widening as she opens her mouth to respond, but he cuts her off before she can utter a sound:

“Or you can take the lashing instead.”

The threat hung in the air between them for several moments, posed as a choice left up to Keeley herself but what choice did she really have? She could of course endure the beating and be done with this whole thing, but something she could not name told her to accept the invitation to break bread with the king, to see where it took her.

“Very well,” she cleared her throat, “if my king commands-”

“He does,” he once more interjected, a pleased smirk curving his bowed lips, gesturing for her to continue.

Blushing, she licked her lips, “then I shall be there–tonight–your grace.”

“Very good,” the pale-haired man hummed in approval. “I shall send someone to collect you when the time comes, for now carry out your duties as you usually would.”

“Your grace,” Keeley bowed, hoping that would be the end of the conversation for now–if only so she could breathe once more.

Yet, the Targaryen man lingered for a moment longer, eyes straying over to the crib where the soft sleeping breaths of his son could be heard before he looked back at Keeley. He hummed, sharp smile on his face as he turned and strided from the room without another word; and it was as the door slammed close once more that Keeley finally released the air from her burning lungs, gasping for proper breath as she pressed a hand to her quivering stomach, panic rising from deep within her–

What was she to do now?

---------- ☾ ----------

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊

“𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 has arrived for you,” Rhaena Targaryen greeted her twin as she was let into the Lady of Driftmark’s private solar.

Baela Targaryen stood by the table, looking over some documents and maps from the Velaryon fleet's latest voyage out to sea; they had charted some new territory, thinned out the ranks of a particularly troublesome band of pirates, and now there was treasure to divide and reports to finish. Usually such duties would be that of the seated lord, but with Alyn’s new placement as Hand of the King his presence was needed in King’s Landing while all the other responsibilities as the head of House Velaryon fell to his wife. Not that Baela had ever resented her lot in life since marrying Alyn, she much preferred their arrangement to any of the other suitors that had been pressed upon her–at least Alyn had been her choice, whether their story was one of love was completely inconsequential.

“Who is it from?” Baela hummed, not looking up from the mountain of paperwork as she sorted through it.

“My good brother,” Rhaena smiled and stopped by her sister’s side, laying the letter atop a dreary summary about the ocean’s wave patterns–opened.

“Rhaena,” Baela sighed, picking up the tampered letter as she threw a scolding yet light-hearted look at her twin, stepping away from her work finally as she unfolded the letter.

For a moment there was quiet between the women as Baela read the letter, her sister beside her as she looked in disinterest at the figures and numbers–she could never make any sense of them like her sister could. Rhaena looked over as Baela let out another sigh, this one more tense than the faux exasperated one shared between siblings moments before.

“I knew he would never go for it,” Rhaena hummed, resisting the urge for a more apparent way of saying ‘I told you so.’

“I hoped he would not,” Baela confessed, “but to refuse our request to bring Aegon home–”

“We will bring him back, Baela,” her sister said with certainty, taking the woman’s hand in her own and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “The gods shone upon us when they brought Viserys back, when we had feared the worst, and they will do the same by bringing Aegon back from the North.”

During his time being sojourned and all but banished from the kingdom, Alyn had happened upon information that suggested that the youngest son of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen was very much alive; he had sailed straight to House Rogare of Lys and negotiated for the young boy’s release. When they had been reunited in King’s Landing with their youngest brother it had been a bittersweet moment for the twin sisters; at that time, Aegon had already been exiled to the North under Aemond’s orders, so he was not there to see his little brother finally return home. And their reunion would be cut short by questions of what to exactly do with Viserys Targaryen.

Most of the king’s council wanted him sent away, just like his brother, but others expressed concern about having so many of Rhaenyra’s ilk spread out across the Seven Kingdoms, fearing it would make it harder to maintain control over the situation. There were even a few whisperings of having the boy sent to the Wall or put to the sword so that they may wash their hands of the trouble; those suggestions were quickly thwarted however by Aemond of all people much to the surprise of Baela and Rhaena, who had been prepared to rally against anyone who dared lay a finger on their brother–or even suggested it. The king had refused to even consider having the boy killed, stating diplomatically that there had been enough bloodshed, and that it was time to heal–no matter how impossible healing felt at that point.

In an even more surprising turn of events, Aemond had handed responsibility of Viserys over to Alyn and in turn, Baela as well; he stated they could foster the boy, raise him in whatever fashion they saw fit, but that if they so much as made move to displace him from his throne so that his late sister’s blood may sit upon it he would see them repaid in fire and blood–same as he promised Cregan Stark when he entrusted Aegon into his care. It had only served as a final slight that the king also ordered that there be no attempt to reunite Viserys and Aegon, and that no correspondence be shared between the pair for a period of time until Aemond saw fit to permit them. It was almost as if he feared that if the last remaining blood of his sister were to once more come together it would jeopardize the already fragile state of his rule–and he was not completely wrong to fear such conspiracy.

There had been talks–in the beginning–talks of rebellion, of usurpation, of reclaiming the throne that Rhaenyra Targaryen, Queen of the Blacks, had died for along with so many others. But that is all it had ever amounted to–talking–and then it was almost as if everyone had forgotten, or at least was trying their best to move on and make do with what they had. Even Rhaena and Baela had come to accept that the Greens had won, that they had no means to continue a dance neither one really had any desire to participate in anymore.

They had lost their grandmother, Baela had lost Jace and Moondancer, and Rhaena had lost Luke and though she now had Morning, the dragon was still relatively small and would most likely not get much bigger; no matter how big she got though, Rhana had no intention of ever flying into battle and risking one of the few remaining dragons in the world’s life for a fight that had already been lost. They had nearly lost their entire family, and had only their own lives to show for that, all they could do now is ensure the memories of those who had passed lived on through them and their bloodline.

“I am glad I have you here to be so optimistic,” Baela chuckled lightly, breaking the silence that had stretched out between them, looking down at their entwined hands, “at least for now.”

“What do you mean by that?” Rhaena hummed lightly.

“You read the letter, Rhaena,” her sister threw the papers with her husband’s signature down on the table, “he has given you leave to marry Ser Corbray.”

Rhaena watched as her sister crossed the solar and went over to the drink cart, pouring herself a glass of something strong no doubt; she sighed internally, folding her twitching hands in front of her as she cleared her throat:

“That does not mean I will accept his proposal.”

“Do not jest right now, sister,” Baela snorted, lifting her glass to her lips but stopping when she saw the look on the other woman’s face. She frowned, “you cannot seriously be considering turning Corwyn away….Rhaena, you’re crazy about the man.”

“I know, I know,” Rhaena sighed, “but that does not mean I desire to leave Driftmark–to leave you.”

“You cannot base a decision such as this on me or Driftmark,” Baela set her glass down, holding the skirt of her dress as she walked back over to her sister. “We will be fine….I will be fine; it is not as if there is a whole world between us–just a sea-”

Rhaena snorted at that and Baela smiled, taking one of her hands in her own:

“I know that it is scary to think of us being parted again,” she continued, “but I could not stomach the thought of you never living your life because you are afraid to leave my side.”

“But if I leave you will be all alone here,” Rhaena hums, “I do not want you to be alone.”

“I will not be alone,” Baela smiled, “Alyn visits when he can, and I have my lady’s in waiting, and of course there is Laena–though she’s not much for conversation currently but I am sure she will get there eventually.”

The pair shared a good laugh at her words, leaning on each other as they shared in a brief moment of mirth, only for it to fade all too quickly as they grew solemn once more.

“I will have Alyn write to Corwyn,” Baela hummed, squeezing her sister’s hand, “and ask him to come to Driftmark, and we will begin talks of your betrothal.”

Rhaena was quiet, looking at their joined hands as she gave her sister a simple nod in agreement and a quiet, “thank you.”

Baela pulled her sister closely, pressing a kiss to her forehead as they stood in each other’s quiet embrace–no more words were needed, for now that was enough.

[iamvegorott]

Ink Month 2024 Day 1

Cat Bath - Madmare

“I don’t think cookie dough is supposed to be that runny.” Mare weakly chuckled, looking over Mad’s shoulder to see the bowl he stirred into. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong. I was following Phantom’s recipe.” Mad sighed, picking up the paper Phantom scribbled on, and squinted at it. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to use eight cups of butter.” 

“Eight cups of what?” Mare took the recipe to see for himself. “Starlight, it’s eight tablespoons.”

“Table…Phantom has terrible writing,” Mad huffed, looking at the ruined batter. 

“He does.” 

“I have no idea how to fix this.” 

“Maybe we could ask-” Mare’s suggestion turned into a shout when Al suddenly landed on the counter from the fridge, misjudging the distance and knocking the bowl over.

“Oh, Al!” Mad gasped, seeing the buttery batter get all over the cat’s fur. “You’re a mess!”

“Mer-ow!” Al wailed and tried to shake it off. 

“You’re getting it everywhere!” Mare grabbed a hand towel and threw it on the cat. 

“Mow!” Al tried to run off, but Mad caught him. 

“I don’t think cats can have that much butter. We can't let Al lick this all off." Mad hugged Al and tried to use the towel to wipe off some of the mess. Mare knew that if he were the one doing that, Al would claw his face off, but in Mad’s arms, he just looked sad. 

“I’ll get the bath started.” Mare sighed, heading for the bathroom.

“We’ll try to be as quick as possible,” Mad promised as he went into the hall closet and pulled out the pet soap. Al saw the bottle and started meowing frantically. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, buddy.” Mad joined Mare in the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet. 

“I have the water only a few inches deep, just enough to work with.” Mare stepped out and was back a moment later with a cup. “Put on your big boy pants, Al. The sooner we do this, the sooner it’ll be done.” Al hissed at Mare. “And that is why I’m on cup duty, young man.” Mare wagged the cup toward Al. 

Al just hissed again.

“In we go.” Mad tossed the soiled towel aside and sat Al in the bathtub, feeling his heart ache when Al yowled in protest. He lifted a paw, shook it, then his other, and then his other, going in an endless cycle of trying to dry his paws. “I’m sorry.” Mad held out the words as he scratched Al’s head, keeping him still as Mare poured the warm water from the cup onto the cat’s body. Al made a growling noise of disapproval, eyes filled with daggers at Mare. 

“Your cat is going to kill me later.” Mare said. 

“He’ll pout, but some of the good kitty treats and cuddles will make it all better.” Mad squirted some soap on his hand and started lathering Al up. “I’m working as fast as I can.” He said when Al made more of that growling sound. 

“When you say the good kitty treats you’re talking about that tube stuff he goes nuts for?” Mare waited until the scrubbing paused before going back to pouring water. 

“Absolutely. I’m going to spoil the hell out of him.” Mad chuckled, continuing to scrub to make sure he got all of the batter out. 

“Like you don’t already do that.” Mare rolled his eyes.

“Someone sounds jealous~” Mad sang his tease. 

“I’m not jealous of a cat.”

“You’re jealous of the spoiling.”

“Maybe a bit,” Mare muttered, his frown turning into a smile when Mad kissed his cheek. 

“We might be able to spoil each other after Al goes to sleep,” Mad spoke softly, a bit of pink showing on his cheeks. 

“I like the sound of that,” Mare said with a grin. 

“Mow.” Al meowed in protest at the conversation. 

“Let me dry you off, and I’ll give you all the kitty treats you can stomach.” Mad grabbed a towel and scooped Al out of the tub, rubbing him with the fluffy fabric. “I can also get the space heater out so we can sit in front of it. Kitty treats and the space heater and cuddles, I know you'll forgive me after all that.” He chuckled when Al was already beginning to purr. 

“Like that cat was ever actually upset at you.” Mare started cleaning the tub while Mad walked out with the still-purring Al. 

“Oh!” Mad peeked his head back into the bathroom. “Want me to turn our show on? Cuddle on the couch while Al warms up?” 

“I would love that.” Mare smiled as Mad’s own got brighter, and he took off. 

[wonderlandhour]

How Curious

Curiously, she looks around the room, sinking all her senses into. The place reeked of magic on so many layers. It was also full of men, boys really, human males rarely ever seemed to actually mature into men. But she was still feeling more feminine, and the male portion of her was likely still lingering within her own realm or where she last fell asleep. Flexing her fingers as she looked around, the furious presence of something approached. A cat of some kind with blue flames within its ears bolted into the room. She did not have much magic, oddly enough, but she had enough to hide from its senses. it saw the open door and yowled in cheer. "one of them is out! i just gotta find em and take their uniform!" it ran off, searching for an invisible trail.

It's not long after when some adults and a few other boys enter, pausing when they spot her. "I don't believe I'm supposed to be here." she smiles at them, arms folded under her boobs."

"of cour- oh dear." the man at their head goes pale, seeing her. "ah. the dark mirror has never chosen a woman before. but I- ah. I welcome all students."

"You're not thinking this through at all Crowley." the man who looks and has the aura of a lion sneers. "a woman? here? These kids don't have the self control to leave her alone. 'Specially when she's the one fucking one on campus if you keep her." How interesting. It comes off disliking of her womanhood, but he gives off the aura of agitation. For her. How endearing, none of these boys could ever lay a finger on her.

"Well she was chosen, and the Dark Mirror has never been wrong! Now, you were impatient-"

"Magic induced sleep does not exactly work on me. It was by no means my fault that I awoke earlier. Now move along so that you may send me back to where I belong."

"We shall discuss this later!" Crowley declares. the next hours or two are massively odd, but she picks up on this. Crowley seems to have no intention of sending her back. that's fine in her mind, Dionysus is always urging her to be a bit more exploratory. She should have some fun while she's here. But this seems to mean she requires a name to tell this 'Dark Mirror'.

"Now, now, you, go on up." Crowley handles her last, some people who haven't noticed her gasp and whisper seeing her go up the steps to the mirror.

"State your name." the Mirror declared.

"Somnus."

"your first and last name, please!" Crowley declares.

"I have only one name I am needed to be known by. You may call me Somnus." her latin name shall suffice for now.

The mirror remains silent for a moment "The nature of your soul cannot be judged." These gasps are far more emotional.

"Dark Mirror, how is that possible?!"

"The nature of this ones soul has no one singular nature to name them a dorm. Therefore they have no dorm."

"How is this possible? All souls have a nature."

"What can I say?" She gives a small smile down at the bewildered man. "I am a being of multitudes."

[heyagoatlover]

I forgot to post this here dhdjdgej//

For context: I am making small stories based on headcanons I have for MSM. This is something I have written before. It may not be that good but I enjoyed writing it!//

The Mythicals are allied with both Non-natural and natural element monsters while the magicals were allied with the seasonals and ethernals just for a bit more context//

-

The Last Battle

"Be careful, we must remain strong…" A battle-scarred Strombonin growled gently to his soldiers, entering the meadow. He took a deep breath and gave a small prayer as he blew his strombone to hold the line, seeing other monsters on the opposite end of the area… the magicals

He would place the shell on his side as he walked towards the middle of the field. From the distance he could also see the leader of that army approach the center as well. The furred monster didn't need any weapons, for her own weapons are her antlers and her raw strength alone… she has been known to strike fear into those she battled. It was best to make an attempt to defuse the situation peacefully.

The Strombonin would give a small nod of acknowledgement before speaking. "It is nice to see you again, General Howlgroda. Though I must say, your… villagers have been acting very violent against those who belong to the natural elements-"

"Silence!" The Enchantling hissed out, her blue eyes full of fury and her fur bristled. "Us magicals has been rejected for so long… And who are you speaking for? You are not even a natural at all, you are a mythical." She added, her voice gruff and sharp. Howlgroda's lips would draw back into a snarl. "You had time to fix this anyways. Now it's either to fight or to die. You killed one of our leaders in such a gruesome manner… and you must pay for it. You can't run from it for so long, General Junghuhn."

His heart dropped at the mention of the past leader. Murdered in cold blood… however the thought was shoved off. He had to be killed. Junghuhn shook his head. "It has to be done, and I am ready to fight you and your army."

A roar was let out from Howlgroda as her army began to charge. Everything seemed like a blur as he got hit on the chest by her antlers. The Strombonin drew out his katana and would begin to swing it at the Enchantling, grazing her head. He could see in the background that many monsters were fighting. He saw a Theremind get slammed down by a Flowah brutally while a Yawstrich got ambushed.

An impact would be felt across his head and a sudden pain was felt on his chest area. Once again Junghuhn would face her again and stab her with his weapon. She let out a horrifying scream, though she kept fighting even if crimson blood fell onto the ground. ‘If this is where I will die, then so be it!’ He thought as he charged at the general thinking she was weakened. Once he was close enough Howlgroda launches at him and bites down on his neck. Blood would spill as he gasped out of shock and fell over. From the corner of his eye he could see more monsters from both sides dying in the battle all in a mix of roars, yowls, yelling and spitting. He will not bow down now, not when his army was so close to winning this battle.

Junghuhn would make an attempt to get up though the wounds stung so badly that he was staggering back. He stared at Howlgroda as she took out the katana from her lower rib cage area and tossed it aside. She was staggering back as well and possibly feeling so much pain from the katana being taken out he could assume.

“General Junghuhn!” A young Kayna would run over to the wounded Strombonin. “The sky-”

He grunted in effort to get up, though tilted his head at the Kayna. “The sky?” He repeated in a weak voice before looking up at it again. The once before night sky was now a deep orange color with strange lights in the sky, painted with light reds and yellows as if they were dancing. The clouds were now a deep red like if the blood of the battle had spilled into the sky.

The Strombonin was startled and stared for what seemed to be a long while. A booming voice was then heard from the sky. “STOP THE FIGHT.” It would roar out. Gasps were heard as monsters would begin to scatter with panic rising from them… only leaving the carcasses and one angry monster.

The aged monster had strange horn carvings that glowed an orange color. A long mustache was seen as well with the monster’s neck being so long that it couldn’t really stand well on it with arms close to the head. It’s face was flat but almost seemed dragon-like with piercing eyes. It has a large furnace stomach that glowed brightly and the monster had multiple legs, two in the front and two in the back. It’s tail was lashing angrily as it approached the two.

“Furnoss!” He heard Howlgroda gasp out with her blue eyes wide with fear.

The Celestial of Fire looked at the two with such fury in her eyes. “Was this fight worth anything? Was it worth risking many lives for a fruitless battle?” Furnoss questioned with fury in her voice. Junghuhn frowned and looked away to see the many carcasses of different monsters. While the battle was short, it was brutal. Some monsters were so brutally wounded that he couldn’t tell what they were at all.

“And look at yourselves. There is no honor in fighting when it leads to this much bloodshed.” She continued, looking at the blood that stained both monster’s fur and feathers. A sigh escaped from her. “We have decided that fighting to such an extent like these will no longer be prohibited, if we find something like these, consequences will occur. This is the word from the Celestials.” Furnoss announced, looking at the monsters.

A Ghazt pushed into the crowd with a frown. “You can’t stop us from wars! Who says we have to follow words when we can practically do whatever we like? Besides, I bet the Seasonal monsters would love to invade our villages.”

“Untrue! You Ethernals have no sense of pride and will kill anybody to save face!” A Yool snapped back, the bells on his horns jingling a bit.

“Perhaps the Celestials want us to obey only for them to do it themselves-” A Roarick joined in, earning a few whispers of agreement from both sides.

Furnoss shook her head. “We will refrain from fighting ourselves. Though what we say has been talked about and will be placed into action.” She then would turn to the two generals who were staring wide eyed. A puff of smoke was breathed out.

Just within a single blink she was gone… and Junghuhn’s world faded to black.

[shejustcalledmeafish]

11 and John/Ianto?

11. “You’re so cute when you’re needy.”

thank you for committing cursed with me <3 this is basically just smut be warned

John was an absolute nuisance whenever his heat rolled around. He was already down to spend hours on end doing nothing but fucking, but his heat gave him a biological excuse. And really, Ianto thought, why resist him?

“You’re so cute when you’re needy,” Ianto said, slowly removing his shirt like he wasn’t as desperate as John. Didn’t want just as badly to fill him up with his cock and get John to beg for his knot. Not that it was especially hard when John was in heat. John let out a low whine as if in agreement, his hand wrapped around his own cock.

John often spend his heats in the Hub, in a special room Jack had made for just that purpose back in the day. It was easier that way, to make sure Cardiff still stayed protected while the team took turns fucking him until the fever broke. Owen had been down with him that morning, but the Beta had tapped out around lunch time. Ianto couldn’t blame him.

John whined again, louder, and Ianto stopped removing his trousers to stick two fingers in his mouth. He sucked on them quietly, hips bucking up, and Ianto rewarded him by taking his cock in hand.

“Just because you’re cute doesn’t mean you can be naughty,” Ianto reprimanded lightly. John just stared up at him, eyes dark. Ianto removed his fingers, then leaned down to kiss him.

“Ianto,” John gasped as soon he broke the kiss. “Please.”

“What, was Owen not enough for you?” Ianto said in mock surprise. It was a bit cruel to tease, he knew how rough John’s heats could get. His first one as a member of the team, he hadn’t told anyone, just feigned the flu and didn’t come in. When Ianto had come to check on him, the whole flat had reeked of sex and want and need.

Ianto was ashamed to admit it, but John begging for him, wrecked and flushed from his own attempts to keep the heat down, was one of the sexiest memories he had. He was also ashamed of how quickly he’d given John exactly what he was asking for. He’d apologized profusely once he was sure John’s head was clear, but John had only pulled him back over for another round.

This arrangement they’d worked out was much better. A win-win situation, John would say if his mouth wasn’t busy doing much filthier things. Ianto worked his fingers slowly into John, although he was so wet and loose he had the urge to try and get his fist in.

Maybe later. Ianto knew exactly what John wanted from him now. Finishing undressing with a hand now three fingers deep in John was tricky, but he’d had plenty of practice. Once he was as naked as John (who also used the heat as an excuse to not wear clothes), he bent back down to kiss him. He was moaning so sweetly with each thrust of Ianto’s fingers inside him, and Ianto swallowed them down like he’d swallowed so much else of John.

“Ready?” Ianto asked, a bit redundantly, but John found his caution amusing. At least he did when he wasn’t at the peak of his heat without getting knotted in at least eighteen hours.

“Yes,” he growled, knowing intimately now how Ianto would simply stop if he didn’t give verbal consent. He would bitch and moan about it afterward, but Ianto could see the truth in his eyes. And since he asked so nicely, Ianto let John pull him down and slid inside of him in one deep thrust.

John yowled so loud Ianto was grateful the room was soundproofed. Not that the team hadn’t all heard it before. John was shamelessly vocal, a trait he encouraged in them all. Ianto wondered if Jack had always been loud, or if John had seduced him into it. Then he stopped wondering because all that mattered was the heat and the pressure and making sure that John was so blissed out he wouldn’t get restless while they were tied together.

Not that having John squirm on his cock was a bad thing. They’d played with it before, seeing how many orgasms they could both have before his knot went down or they were simply too overstimulated to keep on. Usually the former. If John had an upper limit on stimulation, Ianto hadn’t found it yet. Stupid fifty-first century omegas.

“C’mon, Ianto,” John goaded after an arduous three minutes with no popped knot. “Don’t you want to fill me up? Fuck a pup into me?” Ianto bottomed out with a solid slam and bit John on the shoulder, the bitch. He was on birth control, but that never stopped his filthy mouth. The bite only served to rile him up more, but Ianto had expected that.

“Anything to keep you quiet,” Ianto hissed playfully. “Too bad no one else is here to keep your mouth full.” He saw John’s eyes glaze over and he knew his ploy had been successful. Some of John’s best heats had been when the team had time to take care of him together. For right now, he would just have to settle for one alpha cock.

Not a bad one, Ianto would have to say, given the way John broke down in pleasure beneath him. He pressed kisses against his bitemark on John’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, as intoxicating every time as the first.

With lust overwhelming every sense, it wasn’t long before he came, pressed so deep into John he could taste it. As the knot caught, John came as well, making a mess of them, something else John had helped him find hot.

Well-practiced in maneuvering when tied together this way, Ianto carefully shifted down so he could lie on the bed and hold John comfortably while they waited. John was as blissed out as he hoped, bonelessly slumped into the bed and Ianto’s embrace.

“Feeling better?” Ianto asked, eyeing him carefully. John didn’t open his own eyes, just gave a minute nod.

“Much,” he sighed, shifting slightly to nuzzle against Ianto’s neck. “Missed you.”

“You always miss me,” Ianto teased lightly to hide how his heart panged at John’s word. “Are you satisfied then?” John deliberately cracked open an eye and ground his hips down against Ianto.

“Never.” Ianto sighed and kissed John’s forehead. He didn’t expect anything less from his needy, horny, bastard omega.

[the-determined-sparks-au]

Prologue

ao3 previous part

Silver bands of light shone bright over head, peaking through the small gaps between the leaves in the tress casting pale shadows on the forest floor. Everything was silent, besides the leaves which rustle in the gentle wind, still having a touch of cold. Showing that Nixames hasn’t left the Strath just yet. Besides the rustling leaves, the silence was also broke by the ripple of water from the river, which orange eyes stared unblinking at.

“Be at peace Rosetteanthem,” merping, the blue-gray molly turns her head, to stare at the light gray molly who approached her. She bowed her head respectively at her, not looking at the yellow eyes that stared at her in concern, “What troubles you?”

“Nothing much Attendant Rosetail,” Rosetteanthem murmured, kneading the leaves and dirt underneath her paws, “This…this is just our first battle after Winter…with how hard the Stilling hit us, making us lose so many members,” she turns her gaze through the bushes, where a group of boulders laid close to both the river and the forest, “If we are to be strong once more we are in need of Sunningrocks. And…” she falters a bit, “This is my first battle since I gain my full name…I want to make mother proud,”

“And you will,” Rosetail smiles, placing her pink scaled tail onto her flank in comfort, “You have no need to worry yourself to the Startrail early over that. Bishop Blizzardstorm is and always have been, proud of you,”

“Then why won’t she make me her heir?” Rosetteanthem thought to herself, furiously. Before she shakes her head, pushing away the anger that boiled under her fur and scales. The rank of Bishop was every cat's dream of reaching, but the only way to gain that rank is if you were trained by the Bishop. Unfortunately, just being blood related to the Bishop doesn’t mean they chose you to succeed you, unlike in Windmoor. She had felt vast disappointment when her mother didn’t take her as her apprentice after her first moon of training, making her complete her course under Harpyshine, who was chosen for her by the old Bishop, Goosefeather. “Which I know mother absolutely disliked…those two never got along after Shreddedear got with Harpyshine after Loonflower’s death…” Rosetteanthem thought, “Though I don’t think anyone would mind if she makes me her heir. She did help me with my last moon of training when Harpyshine was told to go to the nursery,”

But Rosetteanthem had no longer the time to think about her wish to become the next Bishop as her hackles rose, her orange eyes locking onto the Felis that emerged from the river. The sleek, but drench body of a cat slid out of the water, the moon cradling their body in its silver light. Her eyes narrowed into furious slits as the small white molly with tortoiseshell patches climbed casually onto the rocks, her green eyes shimmering in satisfaction.

More shapes followed her, the fins on their lower backs flurrying out happily, purrs rumbling in their throats, not even stopping for a moment to shake the water from their pelts. Rosetteanthem turns her gaze to Rosetail, who was stilled as stone, but her yellow eyes glowed in anger. Nodding her head, Rosetteanthem watches as her ear twitches, and the blue-gray molly slinks into the undergrowth, moons of practice making it easy for her. Following behind her was Adderfang, and Yewfreeze. all three of them, crouching low to the frost covered ground that the fur and scales on their belly were pressed against it. Her lips curled, claws digging in the dirt and ears pressed to her head, waiting for the signal to shrike.

“Thundergrowth!” Attendant Rosetail roars out, “Attack!” with the order, the clearing was alive with yowling, screeching, fighting Felis . Rosetteanthem leaped at a large gray tom with a striped tail. Slamming him to the ground, making him gasp in shock, she bites down harshly onto his shoulder, ignoring the bitter taste of blood in her mouth, she bites down harder as the tom thrashes underneath her. It was only with the flash of claws that cut into her cheek that made her let go. She takes a step back, watching the Riverglade Warrior scramble up to his paws before fleeing back to the river.

Panting, she looked around, spotting Yewfreeze grabbing the scruff of Paleclaw into her mouth, dragging him down to the ground while Sabercry pounced on him, clawing at the brown tabby markings that painted his white fur. Meanwhile Rosetail and Marigoldwing were teaming up against a Riverglade warrior that brought dread to all warriors of Thundergrowth who faced him. Large and imposing, with gray and white fur, his blue crest torn from many battles, Thistleclaw roars as Rosetail slams into him, her claws holding down tightly onto his shoulders as he buckled fiercely underneath her.

A growl ripped from her throat and Rosetteanthem charged, lashing her claws into his flanked, blood roaring in her ears alongside Thistleclaw’s screech of pain. “How dare you Thunders attack us! Sunningrocks belongs to Riverglade!”

“After tonight Thistleclaw,” Rosetail pants, blood dripping down her face from a torn ear, “Sunningrocks will once more belong to Thundergrowth. And let me tell you, if we even catch a wiff of you Rivers on our territory, there will be consequences!”

Thistleclaw roars in fury and outrage, finally shaking the toe of them off. Rosetteanthem grunts as she lands on her shoulder, looking up to see the furious amber eyes of Thistleclaw glaring down at her when a screech rang out, “Retreat Riverglade! Retreat!” All four of them still before Thistleclaw snaps his head towards Sweetlily as she stares down at him, as if daring him to object. With a snarl he soon followed his comrades, back into the river after struggling away from their opponents.

Rosetteanthem pants her shoulders shaking before Yewfreeze let out a jubilant cry, making Rosetail chuckle before she yowls to the stars with her. Smiling, Rosetteanthem raised her voice among them, caterwauling their victory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a deserted clearing, a blue-gray tabby sat alone, staring straight ahead with her blue eyes at the ferns. All around her in the shadows, she could hear the breathing and stirrings of sleeping Felis . She blinks as she feels something pressed against her and looks to the sandy-gray tom, who’s green eyes look at her with warmth, “Deep breaths, Blizzardstorm. From what Featherwhisker has told me, nobody was too hurt in the battle,”

“I know,” Blizzardstorm stated calmly, her voice showing no hint of how nervous she was, “but I can still worried. It is my duty as the Bishop,” the other nodded his head but both turn back to the ferns as a large silver gray tom emerged, his pawsteps quick and silent.

“Everyone is alright, My Bishop,” the tom meows as he dips his head in greeting, “no one has wounds that were too deep, and besides Sabercry they are all young and strong. They shall recover quick enough,”

“I heard that Featherwhisker,” the black spotted molly hisses, as she limps over to a thick bramble bush, where a small brown tabby was waiting for her in the gap. Blizzardstorm watches with a small smile as Sabercry leans down and nuzzles her kitten, even as he meows her ears off asking about the battle.

“It’s good that she can’t get her mind off of things,” the tom besides her whispers, “After losing Littlestep, and then her Mist and Night…Pineheart abandoning her…” Blizzardstorm’s ear twitches in agreement at this.

“We all need good things in our life, Thrushcloud,” Blizzardstorm remarked, “hopefully this win will bring up everyone’s spirits after the cold harsh winter Nixames gave us and the epidemic of the Stilling brought with it,”

“But there’s still something bothering you,” Featherwhisker pointed out as he settles himself on the night-cool grass.

Blizzardstorm huffs, sighing, “These are difficult times…Spring was late this year, and with it being late, few kits are being born,”

Featherwhisker hums, “Well that is true,” he nodded in agreement, “But most kits are born during the warmer seasons, and the year is only beginning,” he licks at his paw, bringing it over his face, “Waspeye’s new litter is strong and Rosetail’s two kits are healthy and happy, they will make strong members of the kingdom,” he then sighs, “And if there is no complications, Harpyshine should have a good kitting, especially now that we have Sunningrocks,”

Thushcloud nods his head in agreement at the Soothepurr’s words, smiling softly at the thought of his little nieces, “What Featherwhisker is saying is the truth Blizzardstorm. The new cycle is only beginning, there will be more kits before you know it. I even heard Yewfreeze and Marigoldwing planning on having kits of their own soon!”

But Blizzardstorm just sighs, ears pinning to her head, “Perhaps, but training them takes time, and many of them might not even want to take the path of a Warrior,” she shakes her head, “While I won’t force anyone to be a Warrior if they do not wish to be one, if Thundergrowth is keep our strength up in front of the other Kingdoms, we are in need of more Warriors,” she turns her head upwards, staring at the stars that shine brightly above them alongside Mourna’s eye.

“Have you asked Nocta for guidance?” Thrushcloud gently asked, following her gaze.

“No,” Blizzardstorm huffs, “She has been silent to me since I gain my lives,” her tail lashes out at this, clawing the ground, “No word at all from them,” she growls but then shivers as a chill ran up her spine, her eyes widening as a shooting star blazed over the trees. She couldn’t help but take a step back, watching as the star fell. Thrushcloud and Featherwhisker watched her closely and cautiously, watching as their leader froze on the stop, blinking slowly as her eyes began to burn white, like stars themselves.

A deep voice erupted her, noble like Blizzardstorm’s own but sounding nothing like the Bishop’s emerges from her throat, “Change is coming, Praise the coming Sparks, welcome them into your hearts, yet take heed for you may burn when confronted by their flames,”

Lowering her head, Blizzardstorm gasps, coughing and gagging as she forces herself to keep standing. “By the stars…Goosefeather warned me,” she croaks, looking over to see Thrushcloud pressing himself against her, helping her stand. His green eyes were clouded in fear and concern.

“Easy…easy,” Featherwhisker whispers, “Just laid down my Bishop. No one would think badly of you for laying down after a vision, and your first true one,” shakily, Blizzardstorm gently sits down, laying on her side as she pants, “Getting a vision from Lady Nocta…is tiring, that I know,”

Nodding her head at that. “It is…definitely different than seeing omens,” she whispers, smiling as Thrushcloud begins to lick at her ears and the base of her horns to comfort her, “Praise the Sparks…Welcome them into your hearts,” she repeated, the words still echoing in her head.

“Sparks?” Thurshcloud mutters, “Do they mean a fire, because…that’s bad,” he whispers, “All the Kingdoms fear fire, it burns and destroys, how will fire help us?”

“It must,” Blizzardstorm shakily pushes herself up, “Lady Nocta must have not been talking about a literal fire…she might have been talking about a cat who looks like a flame. When I was chosen to be the next Bishop, Goosefeather told me he gain a prophecy about me. That like fire, I would blaze through the Strath, butI must beware for even the strongest flames can wither and die,” Thrushcloud shivers at this and licks at the patch of yellow scales on the back of her neck.

“Or has passion that burns brightly like fire,” Featherwhisker pointed out, “and it must be someone from out of the kingdoms…the guidance said welcome them into our hearts..it must mean that we bring in an outsider,”

“Would give us new blood,” Blizzardstorm whispers, but her eyes trailed over to the General Den, where she watches the slowly rising and falling of her daughter’s sleeping body. She frowns a bit, closing her eyes, the image of her daughter standing atop a mass of bones, that shone with an unnatural light.  The bones of Felis and the bones of prey, all jumbled together. Her lips curled as if she could still smell the hot wind that swept over her, bearing the reek of carrion, even though the bones gleamed white and clean. But then blood had begun to ooze out between the bones, the trickles merging together into a river that flowed steadily towards her, until the stench of blood clung to her fur. She had tried to flee, and found her paws had been fixed in place. She had cried out to her daughter, who had stared coldly at her with her orange eyes, standing tall before calling out for those to join her, to join the one that Solta has blessed, to join her for a better future. All but ignoring her mother as the blood drowned her mother, gurgling and reeking of death.

She opens her eyes and shakes her head. “No…” Blizzardstorm thought, “I made sure that won’t happen..” but still she shivers, as if she could still feel the steady whisper of blood lapping hungrily at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hollow she laid in was full of dead leaves and the smell of toadstool, something rotting. It did well to hide her scent as she spasms on the floor, biting into the stick she had brought for this very purpose. All Needlefang wanted was for the birth to be over, but it felt like she was lying in that hollow for days. Everything hurt- her whole body, down to the tips of her fur and the ends of her claws. She pants through her nose, eyes shut in pain. She told herself she could do this, she was taught by Sagewhisker, who before taking the position of Heir herself had been training to be a Soothepurr..but she was too weak to do anything, even eat the herbs that she had snitched from Prickletooth’s den.

But finally, after a long night of darkness and anguished, there were three small bundles pressed close to her stomach. Two were wiggling furiously, but one was completely still. Needlefang prodded her gently, but deep down she already knew the answer. The kit had been born dead, and thus would never open her eyes.

The other two though, were strong. As she gently licks them of the fluids that cling to there fur, the small molly, who inherited her father’s dark brown tabby fur let out an angry wail the minute she touched her, her small paws bapping at her face which made Needlefang chuckle. “Definitely a fighter…” she thought happily, turning her gaze to her son. Luckily or maybe it was the blessing of the gods, none of her kits inherited her fur. Her son seems to take after his grandfather, her father’s golden pelt. Even with the two of them having the same dark orange scales, no one would connect them as mother and son. She looked worriedly at his tail though, bent in the middle like a broken branch. But it didn’t seem to be hurting him, all he did was let out loud mews each time his sister battered him.

Smiling softly, she pushes herself out of the grief that welled up inside her and stood up. Ignoring the wails of her kittens and leaving them in the hollow, she went to bury there sister, “Let Lady Nocta welcome you into her loving embrace my Twilight,” she whispers softly to the molly’s spirit as she buried her deep within the earth, to make sure no badger or fox would ever find it, “Please Lord Mourna,” she looks up at the sky, staring at the moon, knowing that the God of the Moon was watching her…watching her break the code, “Do not push my guilt onto her…let her be free of them,” she prayed before she returned to her two living kits.

She froze a bit though, as she turns her attention to her living kits seeing the expression on their small faces. Both were new to the world- couldn’t see, couldn’t hear…could barley crawl to her belly to feed…and yet, their faces was already twisted with strong emotion.

“Rage…hatred? I never seen such a look on any cat, let alone a newborn kitten,” Needlefang thought as fear flooded her. Kits born with so much anger in them could only mean trouble for the Kingdom, but then she shakes those thoughts out of her head, “They’re just kits… you can’t think of such things about two newborn kits,” So, taking a deep breath she stood, “Slateflame told me to trust my instincts, and make my own choices,” she whispered to the two tiny kits, bending down to lick their heads, “And I choose that you will group up in Shadowmire as a comrade without knowing who your mother is,” she heaved a deep sigh, “That will be the best for all three of us, little ones,”

Giving them a last lick, she chitters out a call, tail wrapping around her legs. Heart pounding she froze a bit, before a large dark tabby, slunk through the muck that made their territory. His yellow barley looked at her but staring at the two kits, full of hope and excitement. With his help, they both picked up one kit, her the little tom and him the little molly and bounded back into the camp, pushing through the brambles. She could feel eyes burning into her pelt, but due to walking through the slimy soil and deep mud, no cat will be able to guess the ordeal she had been through.

Lizardstripe’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing at the sight of them. Ignore the accusing look in her yellow eyes, Needlefang placed the tom at her paws, wincing as he let out a shriek. “What,” Lizardstripe hisses, “are those?”

“Kits,” Needlefang replied.

Raggedsnarl placed the molly beside her brother, “My kits,” he added proudly.

“Oh yes,” Lizardstripe mewed mockingly, “What a miracle. If I’d know toms could have kits, I would have made Mucktalon have these brats of mine himself,”

Needlefang swallows, feeling guilt welled up in her. It was no secret that Lizardstripe never wanted kits, but did so with the encouragement of Mudswipe who had promise to help her raise the kits. It was no shock to anyone that he didn’t keep that promise. The only reason that she didn’t just lump them off to the caretakers were because the lack of milkberries and the promise that she wouldn’t be like her own mother, Morningshriek.

Raggedsnarl ignores the both of them, crouching down to sniff at his kits. The tom tried to lift his head, and then swiped his paw through the air, connecting with Raggedsnarl’s nose. Jerking back in surpise, he cries out in delight, “He’s a little warrior already!”

Lizardstripe stares at him before turning her gaze to Needlefang. Shuffling nervously under her cousin’s stare she shakes her head, “Their mother wishes to keep identity a secret,” Needlefang explains, “She cannot care for these kittens, and she hopes that you will take them in for her,”

Lashing her tail, Lizardstripe growls, “What kind of shit is this,” she glares at Needlefang, accusingly, “Why should I have to put up with not one but two more mewling lumps of fur? I didn’t ask for these kits either, but you don’t see me dumping them on some other cat. Its not my job to care of every unwanted kit in Shadowmire,”

“They are not unwanted!” Raggedsnarl snap, looking up with burning hatred in his eyes, “They are mine! My son and my daughter, and I will always claim them as my own!” at his snarls, Lizardstripe shrank back in her nest, her tail covering her own three kits protectively.

“Lizardstripe,” Needlefang whispers, almost pleading, “Its only until a fresh bunch of milkberries grow and I’m sure that Berrypuddle and Rainfeather will do most of the raising..can you please feed them,”

Hissing softly at first, Lizardstripe then sighs, nodding her head. “All, right,” she whispers tiredly, “Give them to me,”

Needlefang watches as her son and daughter were nestled in the curve of Lizardstripe’s belly. Pushing back the feeling of unease, she leans down and touches nose to Lizardstripe in thanks, “The molly’s name is Evening, while the tom’s name is Sunrise,” Lizardstripe nodded and with that, Needlefang turned around, and slipped out of the nursery, not looking back to the two kits she left behind, not even as her heart cleaved in two.

She staggered into the Bishop’s den, where Sagewhisker waited for her, “Is it over?”

Swallowing, Needlefang nodded her head. Everything within her ached, far beyond the reach of any herb that Prickletooth could give her, “Yes. Its over,”

“Good,” Sagewhisker said, before nudging a leaf towards her. At Needlefang’s questioning look, she explained, “Its parsley. It will dry up your milk. You should take one leaf every day,” nodding her head, Needlefang leaned down, licking up the leaf, feeling her eyes burn with tears, “You did the right thing. You know what would happen if others in Shadowmire discovered that those two were your kits,”

“I know,” Needlefang snap, sitting up. She closes her eyes, “I know,” she whispers. Unlike in the other Kingdoms, Shadowmire Bishops could not have kits...they couldn’t have mates. If it was discovered, Raggedsnarl would be killed for daring to touch her that way, even when she allowed it. Many would say that Raggedsnarl turn her away from the Lady Nocta. And she just, Needlefang could not imagine the cat that she loved being killed, just because of their love.

She looked at the stars, frowning. She wonder if the reason Lady Nocta had been so silent to her was because she broke the rule stated for Shadowmire Bishops. But then her orange eyes widen as a star arched across the sky, her tail stiffening. Swallowing, she looked over to Sagewhisker, but it seem her mentor took no notice.

“So...I haven’t lost favor with you, Lady Nocta..but what do you mean by Sparks?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winds rattle the branches of the willow trees, as Haddockbounce shakes his head. Which only made him grimace more. Mudpool looked at him in concern, but Haddockbounce smiled at him, pushing away the pain, “So...we lost Sunningrocks,” he mutters, staring at Thistleclaw and his sister and Attendant, Sweetlily.

“We wouldn’t have if Sweetlily hadn’t force us to retreat,” Thistleclaw snarls but then grimaces as Mudpool place a poultice of broom and goldenrod onto his flank.

Sweetlily sighs, closing her eyes, “We had no choice. There were too many Thundergrowth warriors attacking us.

“Sunningrocks is our territory,” Thistleclaw snarls as he stands up, “Riverglade should never be beaten,”

Haddockbounce sighs, stepping between them, “Riverglade will always hone your courage, Thistleclaw, but Sweetlily did the right thing. I never expect my warriors to fight against the impossible odds. We will have another night to not only avenge this defeat but to gain back what rightfully is ours. We alreadly lost too many Felis thanks to Lady Chinoa. Rippleclaw, Fallowtail, Cedartuft, Lakeshine, Echomist, Snowgale, Tideripple,” he looks to both Sweetlily and Thistleclaw apologetically as the two wince. Both have lost love ones this winter, and he ached for their lost. “But I understand Thistleclaw, I am trouble by tonight’s lost...we haven’t lost a battle since I took over as Bishop,”

“Though,” Sweetlily mutters, “I’m not surprised that they struck against us,” she turns to Haddockbounce, “Turns out that Bishop Goosefeather pass during the beginning of Winter, Blizzardstorm is now the Bishop of Thundergrowth,” Thistleclaw growls, claws scrapping against ground.

“Well….he was old,” Mudpool stated gently, “Many were shocked he survived last year’s winter,” he pointed out and Haddockbounce had to nod at that. But he couldn’t help but lowered his head, pain gripping at his chest. Right now, even beside his sister, his loyal Attendant, and his Soothepurr, he felt so alone. “My Bishop?”

Looking up, Haddockbounce heaves a sigh, “Its just seems that the Gods are really against us. The last two winters have hit us hard…”

Thistleclaw rolls his eyes, “We made it through this winter and we will make it through many more,”

“Yes,” Haddockbounce agreed, “But...I worried because I gain a message,” Sweetlily stills, her eyes widen while Thistleclaw puffs up. Swallowing he began to recite what he heard, “Change is coming, Praise the coming Sparks, welcome them into your hearts, yet take heed for you may burn when confronted by their flames,”

“What the hell that means?” Thistleclaw snarls, his gaze rising to towards the stars in the night sky, “What does Lady Nocta expect us to do? Do they expect us to burn the Kingdom to the ground with these sparks?”

Mudpool shakes his head, “No, that cannot be, it must be something else. A fire can clear the forest of dead wood to make room for new growth,” he pointed out, making Thistleclaw growl and roll his eyes, “Perhaps its a reassurance, there may be death now, but it will allow the Kingdom to grow anew,”

“I rather not think of our comrades dying of starvation to be a good thing, Mudpool,” Haddockbounce hisses, calming down when Sweetlily pressed against him.

She looked up at him, blinking her green eyes at him, “It did said welcome, mayhaps its a sign that its time we bolster our ranks with some new members?”

“We don’t need outsiders,” Thistleclaw growls, ignoring the glare that Haddockbounce was giving him, “If Riverglade is to be save it will be from our own paws. I will be highly suspicious of some outsider that we have no knowledge of comes to us and offers us help,”

Haddockbounce sighs, “If Riverglade is in enough danger that someone is offering help, I don’t see any problem with turning them away,” he shakes his head, “Listen, I don’t claim to know everything Thistleclaw, especially claim to know what Lady Nocta speaks of. But we must take heart to what she says. We will keep a watchful eye and if we’re careful, we will discover what she means. Let us be at peace, knowing that the gods are still with us, still guiding us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Krestletail stares blindly as the elders slip away through the heather tunnel, carrying the limp body of Shrewclaw held between them. “Its weird that he’s dead, isn’t it,” ears perking he turns his head to see his brother, Magipenose walking towards him. Sniffling as always, the Soothepurr sat beside him, “He was always there, with us everystep and now,”

“Now’s he not,” Krestletail whispers, but he really didn’t know how to feel about this. Him and Shrewclaw have never gotten along, the other having calling him wormcat throughout their kithood to even today as full grown members of Windmoor, even when Krestletail took his role as Bishop. But he likes to think that gotten along better after Krestletail return to the Kingdom from his wander. While they never would be friends, not after the moons of bullying, he knew that he could trust Shrewclaw to be a loyal warrior and to fight by his side. But now he was gone, killed by Newtspeck when trying to avenge his mother Brackenwing, who died during one of the many fights with Shadowmire over Highstones.

“The battles with Shadowmire are becoming worse,” Magpienose whispers, shoulders stiff, “I wish Hawkheart was still here...or at least one of the kits had an interest in healing. So much blood...so much infection...so much death,”

“Its Raggedsnarl’s fault,” Krestletail closes his eyes, “I know that Bishop Sagewhisker has no love for Windmoor, but most of her ire was at Bishop Heatherstep, when I took over most of the fights have all but stop...I don’t think she even knows of Raggedsnarl’s aggressive attacks on us,” anger and hoplessness burns in his chest at this, “And I doubt they will stop when Needlefang takes over,”

“It isn’t just Shrewclaw,” Magpienose whispers, “Aspenfall, Cloudrunner, Hickorynose, Woolytail and Nightpatridge,” his brother turns to him with wide blue eyes filled with fear, “Most of them should be in the Elders Den now, living out the rest of their lives telling the history of our kingdom and offering advice to all who ask, but because of Shadowmire and the Wails..” he chokes, tears streaming down his face, “They’re gone..why are the Gods doing this Krestletail, what have we done to deserve this?”

“I do not know,” Krestletail admits sadly, feeling a rush of anger at Raggedsnarl, for the Felis who follow him without hesitation. He brings his head up, watching the night sky, the stars of their ancestors, staring accusingly at them, demanding an answer, a solution.

And then, a star flew across the night sky, with the lack of trees, it allowed him a clear view, watching as it falls to the ground. His blood roared in his ears, as Lady Nocta spoke to him. Shoulders shaking, exhales, closing his eyes. “Brother?” Magpienose softly whispers, whiskers trembling and yellow feathers poofing up, “What did you see?”

“Hope...peace,” Krestletail swallows, “Our Gods did not abandoned us as I have fear. Difficult times are ahead of us...but we will be safe..we will be strong,” he turns his gaze to his brother, before he presses himself against his brother’s side, both becoming silent, both giving out support for each other, while keeping eye on their home.

Krestletail watches as Maplefall walked over to Driftnose, a wide smile on the golden torbie’s face as she spoke quietly to her dark gray, orange scaled mate. His blue eyes widening at what she was saying but with his own smile growing on his face it must have been good news.

“We will make this work...the Gods still favor us,” Krestletail though as he closes his eyes, thinking of the spark that would come to them. A part of him, couldn’t help but think of a tom that he travel with many moons ago. Of how his fur would blaze like fire in the light of Solta’s eye. “It couldn’t be him...could it? No” Krestletail shakes his head, “Flamma has his own group to worry about, he has no time to worry about Windmoor… to worry about me,”

[shimmerbeasts]

These days, Hounding had become a more well-known aspect of violence in the Undercity, however, it had not lost any of its previous terror. Unfortunately, this also meant that once every while Ekko and Jinx would come across the rare survivors of previous hunts, who fought harder instead of running away as their victims normally did. This was the case here as well: They had cornered a man, who had suddenly spun around and lunged at Ekko. Slashing at his arm with a potato peeler, he had managed to leave a deep, misshapen wound on her wolver's biceps.

The sight of the blood on Ekko's brown skin caused Jinx to release a heinous growl. Nobody harmed her precious hunting dog and got away with it! Nobody! Who did this nobody of a prey think himself to be? Some hero? Some aspirational figure? Oh, Jinx would show him exactly what happened when you thought you could harm what belonged to the Loose Canon.

She left the sideline, she had been preoccupying until then, in a blur of purple and cobalt blue. Before the man even knew what had come over him, Jinx slammed into his body, hands latching onto him, and forced him backwards. Her teeth tore at his cheeks and neck as she bit him over and over. His blood dripped down her chin, sprinkled across her tongue and smeared over her lips. It tasted coppery and tangy.

The man yowled as he backed away, nursing his wounded face and neck. Jinx had deliberately made her bites be nothing but painful, little nips. Not enough to fully tear the flesh and cause you to bleed out, but enough that you would be permanently covered in a polka dot carpet of scars, should you survive. As if Jinx was ever going to let that happen!

The Loose Canon pulled out Pow-Pow and slammed the trigger down. The Gatling gun came to life and completed the polka dot carpet by adding more lethal and deeper holes into the man's belly and sides. His blood splashed out of the wounds like disgusting bubbles in the steaming vents in the darker parts of the Dredge.

Gasping for breath, Jinx slung the Gatling gun over her shoulders and headed across the pool of blood back towards Ekko. Maybe she had underestimated just how much blood she had spilt, maybe she had not watched where she put her steps, however, the ground had become uncannily slippery from their blood bath. Jinx yelped and waved her arms as she tried to keep her balance, however, her body and the additional weight of her weapons were trying to force her to the ground.

However before she could fall, strong, familiar, brown arms caught her in the back and supported her head. Jinx's breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at Ekko, whose fuchsia eyes stared down at her with love only a Hound could possess for its master. Why couldn't Ekko see the perfection in their bond? Why couldn't he see that Jinx had made him the wolver because she knew what was best for him? Why did he have to fight her every step of the way?

She allowed the Hound to help her on her feet and stabilise her. Jinx placed her hands on Ekko's biceps and leaned against his side, peering up lovingly and possessively at her beloved dog. Her heart still raced from the near fall experience. Her skin gleamed with sweat. It took a moment for Jinx to refocus and realise Ekko had asked her something. She pulled away with careful, but steady steps and tenderly patted his arm.

"I am alright, Wolver", Jinx said, "I just need a moment to breathe. What about you?" Her hand brushed over the cut on his arm. "Is that closing up nicely or do you need some extra Shimmer?"

sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall (Jinx for Hound Ekko) from this

Typically when they were on hunts, Jinx rarely seemed to contribute, instead choosing to watch from the sidelines. After all, one of them had to be able to control themselves when Ekko often could not. The hound, of course, knew she enjoyed the sight of him personally taking care of everyone with ease, and with as much as blood-thirst as she would. He could feel as much. And yet every once in a while she indulged, got her hands bloody even without a change.

One had managed to get enough courage to stand up against the hound, as if they had experienced one in the past, and had dared to hurt him. A strong enough hit to cause a deep bleeding wound. Jinx had reacted, almost immediately and had killed them but not without leaving a bloody puddle. One that blended in with the rest that he had made, scattered limbs everywhere.

But there were more to hunt, and the Ekko was quick to forget all about the wound he now had. Especially as he noticed Jinx slip on the blood she walked across. Instincts took over then as his body was quick and long, clawed hands covered in scales caught the loose cannon in his arms. Bright Fuchsia eyes locked onto hers, then. As if to say 'I got you.' It wasn't hard for them to ensnare his attention.

"Are you okay?" He asked in concern. To most it would have come off as a surprised to here him speak in this state. However, now that Ekko and the hound had become nearly one, the ability to speak past the animalistic rage seemed easier now, though mainly when Jinx was concerned. He couldn't help but smile knowing that even before she spoke words, that she was proud of him almost. At the fact that even during the change, Ekko had barely fought it. Even now Ekko was present, no longer fighting off the influence, instead he was seemingly embracing it.

"Be careful, I can't have you falling if you're going to keep up..." @shimmerbeasts

[impulsivewcrewrite]

Chapter 8: This Is the Part Where He Kills the RiverColony Warrior

“Hey! Wait up!”

The patrol, plus Rusty and Pebbles, turned. Wren was running towards them. In front of Rusty he could hear Rabbitdown snort. Her tail flicked in annoyance, but she waited for Wren to catch up to them.

“Hey… Cricket… Cricket said I could… I could join you guys!” gasped Wren between breaths. “Plus, I wanted to say goodbye to the friends I’ve made in ThunderColony.”

“Join the party!” mewed Pebbles. 

Under the direction of Rabbitdown and Rocky, the group was walking beside the thunderpath. The slope between the thunderpath and the moor was a lot less intense than it was near Fourtrees. Once again, Rusty wondered if Raven had made it this far. He’d have to return to WindColony’s lands in the future to find his lost friend. From RiverColony, Rusty could hear the roar of water falling. Even just the thought of water made his fur crawl. Who would ever want to swim in water? His mind wandered to the warmth of ThunderColony’s territory. Each step was one step closer to his own nest and a stomach of forest prey. 

“Should we cross?” asked Rusty. 

“That’s RiverColony land, over there,” Rabbitdown chided. 

“But they never patrol up here by the gorge,” mused Wren. “C’mon, we won’t have to go near ShadowColony if we cross now.”

As the warrior considered it, Rocky sprung towards the road. In a few leaps, he was on the other side. Giving it a sniff, he called back. “The scent marks are weak, I doubt RiverColony would mind if we walk through their territory!”

Still skeptical, Rabbitdown twitched her whiskers. Pebbles and Wren crossed easily, and Rusty followed. Eventually, Rabbitdown joined them.

Underfoot, the ground felt dry and firm, like ThunderColony’s territory. As much as he enjoyed helping WindColony, the peaty ground on the moor was just too springy for his liking. And the wet muddiness of ShadowColony just grossed him out. This was more to his taste. 

However, they also were closer to the rushing river. A few steps ahead, Rusty could see the drop off, where the waterfall started. On either side of it were steep cliffs, peppered with bits of fern. One wrong step and you’d be dead. 

Hiss!  

Rusty spun around. A RiverColony patrol was racing towards them! They reached Rabbitdown first, and Snapdragon threw herself at the WindColony warrior. 

“You have no place on our lands!” the deputy screeched. 

Running to help, Rocky was intercepted by a brown tabby molly. The two began to trade blows, dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. But Rusty had no time to help. A gray tom landed on Rusty’s shoulders, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sharp fangs dug into Rusty’s back, and he yelped. With a mighty heave, Rusty flung the warrior off of himself. 

“Trespassers!” the tom snarled at Rusty. Rusty responded with his claws, lashing at the tom’s face.

“WindColony!” a new voice joined the fray. Turning, Rusty spotted Spruce, Whisper, Rooster, and Leo running to help. But while he was distracted, a new cat barreled into Rusty’s side. Yowling, Rusty snapped his jaws around the leg of the dark gray molly.

With the help from Spruce’s patrol, the battle’s tides had turned. Just as Rusty flung the dark gray molly away from him, he heard a horrible screech.

Time seemed to slow down. At the edge of the gorge stood Wren and Pebbles. Sprinting to their sides, Rusty spotted what they were staring at. A single white paw clung to the lip of the gorge. But the side was slick, and the paw quickly vanished. 

A terrified scream split the air as the RiverColony warrior fell. The spray of the waterfall hid the warrior, but everyone could hear the deafening splash as he hit the bottom of the waterfall. As his blood pooled down the river, Rusty could hear the words of Peat echo in his mind. ‘This day will kill an innocent.’

[phantomenby]

Batty boys pt.2

(Sorta related to the bat one you just posted) I would like a poly lost boys with the reader finding four bats on their way home. One of them is hurt and they take them in to treat them. Next day they wake up and is shocked to see 4 punk teenagers asleep instead of bats.

Hope you like this one anon <3

Also here is the link for the similar story written by another user, more Marko-centric

It had been over a week since you had housed the four flying puppies and not much had changed, you had continued with your shitty diner job and trying to get back into studying in your own time. The only difference was the rise in motorcycles going by your work and through the streets at night, not that you lived in a suburban haven or anything, but your apartment was a good bit away from the main area of town and the local riff-raff.

Still, you did miss them, their cute wide eyes and soft fur. You had gone to visit the local animal shelter, walking through the long hall of strays and pets of those who went missing. Sighing you shook your head, you wanted to get out of Santa Carla someday and you were broke as shit, investing in another living thing would do you no good.

Rain began pelting you on your way home, the sky was already fairly dark and you wanted nothing more than to curl up on your sofa with the tv on and a glass of vino to keep you company. The week had been long with back-to-back shifts for the past six days but you could enjoy your weekend off. Fortunately, it was nearing summer and so the tips were getting better, your savings were singing praises to you each night as you added a good extra couple of bills on top of your usual deposit.

Entering the local convenience store you nodded to the lady behind the till, her curly red hair and heavily applied purple eyeshadow standing out on her pale wrinkly face. Spotting what you desired you grabbed the bottle, for three dollars it wasn't too bad, sweetened with cherry syrup your grandmother had sent you from Nevada it made quite the treat. Grabbing some snacks with a couple of painkillers you went to pay, looking back outside as the rain got heavier and heavier.

Soon the sound of it was drowned out as the motorbikes you had heard the past few nights sped past, slowing as they went by the store, still you were unable to see who was riding them through the murky glass. As you left you passed by the slim alleyway behind the store, stopping when you heard a bin rattle a little, it didn't happen again after a few minutes so you shrugged began to pick up your pace again.

Wait

Looking back as you heard it, the familiar squeaks of a little furry animal, not like a raccoon or a cat. No, this was just like the ones you heard all those nights ago. Stalking closer you fought to see through the thick rainfall.

You could see it now, hidden behind the two metal trash bins, a mop of blonde rugged hair. One of the bats! You gasped, moving faster as you saw it was trapped between some discarded wires, as it began to fuss they dug deeper into its fur and irritated its skin. Its pained cries were enough for you to shout for it to stop moving as you went to free it.

Just barely missing its teeth as it lunged for you, intending to rip the flesh from your hand as it yowled.

"Hey! Hey! It's ok, I'm trying to help."

Paul stopped when he heard your voice, his dark blue-toned eyes looking into yours, he hadn't understood David's plan when the snowy blonde had told him to transform so he could wrap him up in the back of an alley. He had half the mind to rip his face off when he placed him behind the smelly dumpsters. The horse-tranquilizer he had taken was preventing him from becoming too excitable and irritated, but there was nothing worse than being dumped away from home and tied up when the night had only just begun.

He hadn't expected to see you again, in his tiny form he was always fairly vulnerable, they all were. But as soon as he heard your voice he felt more at peace than he ever had before. Your soft bright eyes staring down at him as you tried to soothe him to a point where he wouldn't attack you, he suddenly felt quite bad for lunging towards your hands before.

When you realised the small creature recognised you it was clear things would be much easier, soon enough you had gotten the tight wires off of him, scratching yourself on some of the sharper points in the process. Every time his eyes seemed to get darker, it made you laugh nervously, everyone joked about how bats were just vampires in disguise and you wondered just how much of that was true.

You tucked him into your coat, shivering as his cold dampened fur pressed against you. It was a short ten minute walk to your home so you wouldn't feel it for long, the sooner you got back to warmth the better.

"Don't worry little guy I'll patch you up n'everythin" he looked up at you with wide loving eyes, enjoying as you coo'd softly at him and rubbed his fluffy head. Zipping your coat up you kept one arm inside to keep him up, wrapping around him and rubbing soft circles into his side.

By the time you got back you were thoroughly soaked, praying you wouldn't be too ill tomorrow as you took off your coat and hung it up beside your door. Sliding off your trainers as you balanced the bat in one arm, he had now moved to dig his claws into your sweater, clinging onto you as you headed towards the room he was most familiar with.

The night they had spent with you was one they all cherished, as soon as you fell asleep all but him had turned back to their more mortal forms, pressing soft touches against you before they explored your home. Paul however had refused to move and had ensured his face never left your chest until David pulled him away and threw him out the window just two hours before the sun would rise.

Now he understood the plan, Paul was an airhead and the most likely to act on his more animalistic traits, essentially when Paul was a bat he behaved like a dumb bat. So it would be less likely for your silly human mind to catch on to them.

You placed him on your bed atop a towel you had used to dry your hair earlier on, you would have to shower again or maybe have a bath to heat yourself back up. Changing out of your jeans, sweater, and t-shirt you began to hunt for some comfy pjs, for now you would just wear a baggy t-shirt you had found for a dollar in a thrift store.

Paul was loving this. His sweet little mate prancing around him as he just sat there oogling you, had he been in his other form you would have screamed and ran away, but for now, you just thought he was some helpless creature. His brothers were nudging his mind, trying to get a peek, but he was devoted to keeping them out. A little payback for earlier.

If you would just turn around-

He whined as you put a shirt on, hiding the best parts of you from his view. Hearing what you assumed to be a sound of pain from the creature on the bed you walked back over, crouching down in front of him as you began to dry him off, checking over for any wounds. It seemed as though as you wiped the small specks of blood away that whatever scratches he had obtained from being tied up had already healed.

Fussing his head you wrapped him up, "stay here little one, the human has to warm up so you can sleep here for now", you missed the way his eyes flashed at the pet name, Paul had half a mind to transform and show you just how little he wasn't. Thinking better of it he accepted his fate and let you bundle him, surrounding him with a blanket that was on the end of your bed as you went into the bathroom that connected to your bedroom.

You decided to run a bath, it was the weekend so why not treat yourself, as the hot water flowed into the basin you collected some oil and soap from the small shelf in the corner, opting for everything lavender scented since it usually helped you wind down. Hearing some rustling in your room you were tempted to go check on the little guy but thought better of it, there wasn't much damage a small thing like that could do.

As you climbed in you let out a long sigh, it was perfect and immediately soothed your sore muscles who had been crying out to you all week. You must have been lying there for a good twenty minutes before your fingers pruned up, soon enough your body would be numb and the water would cool down.

In the other room, Paul had already turned back and was now flicking through the cassettes on the shelf across from your bed, he had the strong urge to put something on, hating how quiet it was compared to the cave. He turned towards the window when he heard a soft tap and was met with Markos gleaming green eyes staring back at him, opening it the boy immediately climbed through and was followed closely by Dwayne and then David, each one patting him on the head or squeezing his cheek while telling him what a 'good little guy' he was like some precious puppy.

He swatted their hands away before stepping back and plonking on the bed, sprawling out as he let his brothers get on with what they were waiting for. Dwayne tsked at Marko as he headed towards the bathroom where you were, reminding him that the door wasn't solid and you would be able to see his silhouette if he got too close. Marko just grinned sheepishly before moving away and towards your closet, wincing as it creaked from him opening it.

David growled, stopping when he heard you still in the bath, clearly listening out for anything else. When you continued he sent the other three a dark glare, warning them to be careful, they wanted to keep their secret safe for now.

Dwayne had followed him out of the bedroom and was now perusing the kitchen, noting how you had hardly anything in your cupboards and fridge, the things that were there were mostly premade meals, ramen, fruit, and other nutrition free snacks. Oh and a considerable amount of liquor. He debated doing a grocery run for you and David nudged his mind, not to say no, more of a 'make it sneaky' nudge.

David was looking out the window that led to your garden, your home was small, made for no more than two people, and usually lived in by old retired couples who wanted something simple. It explained how archaic some features were, but you had painted it and collected some simple furniture over the years you had lived there. Rifling through your wallet and checking your ID told him that you were twenty-five, but he knew a fake when he saw it, you were most likely a runaway of sorts. An experienced one too. Hopefully, it wouldn't affect how trusting you were when you finally met them.

They all froze when they heard you pull the plug and begin drying yourself off, soon enough you would be leaving and they had no desire to head off. Talking through their mindlinks they made a plan, each returning to your room and shrinking down after stashing their boots under your window outside.

By the time you were dry and smooth from your berry-scented lotion, the bathroom was a foggy mess, leaving the door wide open and heading to the window so you could air out the room. Santa Carla was warm enough and the rain would soon be dying down. You stopped as you passed your bed, you had glanced once to check on the blonde put but did a double take when you spotted something more.

There were four of them. All four of them.

Four sets of large beady eyes looked up at you, the blond one you had nestled before was now on top of the towel with his three friends standing on either side of you. It was creepy. All four of them stood at attention and looked at you as though they were waiting for something to happen. You glanced over at the window realising it was already fairly wide open.

But how...

You could have sworn it was closed when you went to take your bath, shaking your head you ignored it, going to get the soft flannel pajama set you had chosen to change. It was still on your dresser, fortunately, slightly crumpled and the underwear you had chosen was missing, glancing behind you you saw the bats were still watching you. Shuddering you turned to the draws beside your closet and pulled out a pair of boxers.

Letting your robe drop as you bent to slide them on, ignoring the shuffling behind you. Once you were dressed you decided to layer it with a jumper, your hair was still wet and the cool breeze coming through the window was seeping into your bones. You turned back to the row of deviants on your bed, not knowing what to do with them.

I mean first of all, "how the hell did you guys know how to get in here?", after your first meeting you had decided to head down to the library and grab a book on bats and learned that they actively avoided serious rain, even a light drizzle wasn't appreciated by them. They made no noise, just glanced in unison towards the window.

Shaking your head you muttered a small "whatever", ignoring the growl from the snowy blonde as you walked away and to your kitchen. You had one plan for tonight and that was to drink til the world became a lot fuzzier.

The boys were listening to you move around, not knowing if you were coming back or not.

David

Wait

He kept listening, ignoring Paul as he bounced on his haunches, when they realised you were settling in he nodded and let them move.

You were pouring a glass of the wine you had bought, a VHS copy of The Princess Bride was already in and running through the ads as you prepared to wind down for the evening. You were opting to ignore the four batlings in your bedroom, deciding your mental energy was drained too much to handle them at the moment.

Click

click

click

"What the fu-" freezing as you began to speak, thinking someone was throwing tiny stones at your window. This was much worse, or better. Either way, it was incredibly funny.

There they were, hobbling towards you, the four of them following one after the other with the snowy blonde leading the ranks. It was comical, and strange. Maybe they had formed some sort of attachment to you, they didn't seem like babes though, their teeth being fairly worn were evidence of that. They stopped as they saw you, resuming the line of defense stance they had taken on the bed. Rolling your eyes you reached into your fridge, pulling out a couple of peaches that were already sweet and ripe.

Cutting them up and placing them onto a plate you nodded towards the four, "this is what you wanted right?"

Not expecting a response you walked to them and put the plate on the ground in front of them, fussing a few of their heads as you stepped around them and towards your cosy sunken in couch that was across from the second-hand tv you scored at the market one day.

It wasn't long before they had begun to scuttle over to you, using their sharp claws to pull them up so they could sit next to you, the only one actually interested in the food you sacrificed for them was the fluffy blonde. He was quickly devouring each piece and you were debating taking them away from him in case he threw up.

Your plans were soon thrown out the window as the darkest one climbed up and onto your shoulder, his paws holding onto your hair and sniffing loudly. Giggling you tried to push him away, but he only clung on tighter.

"S-stop! That tickles-" pushing him away as his claws finally reached your skull, pushing him towards a small pillow on the back of the couch. He accepted but continued holding onto and playing with a small bundle of strands. Better for them to be focused on something other than destroying your house. The other blonde, the one with curly tufts of hair all of his body, was tugging your clothes as though he was a fashionista judging you for your drab outfits.

You petted his head softly and he leaned into the touch, to be fair to them you had missed this, it was like a non-commital pet.

David was busy probing your mind, watching as you twitched every so often as you felt small pieces of pressure beneath your skull, he didn't learn much about your past or about anything he hadn't already learned from the first time you met. You were a fairly predictable little human, following a similar routine and having few desires, it was what made it so easy for them to plan everything out.

They stuck by you as the evening ended, watching as you went through another two glasses of wine by the time the movie was over, you stumbled as you went to the kitchen, putting a bag of popcorn in the microwave to snack on and pouring a fourth glass. The dark-haired one was still on your shoulder and squeaking softly in your ear.

Paul and Marko were tussling on the rug in front of the TV, growling and nipping at each other, they had gotten pretty aggressive before but had calmed down when you tried to get in between them and threatened to throw them out.

It was time for a scarier flick now, you placed your drink and snack down before walking to your cupboard, picking out Amityville Horror and swapping out The Princess Bride for it. As it began the snowy blonde bat crawled into your lap, leaning his back against your stomach with his legs stretched out in front of him as you began to stroke him softly.

David was in heaven, it wasn't often he indulged himself with any form of affection but he was willing to enjoy the gentle petting you were giving him. He recognised the movie playing, Paul and Dwayne had forced him to watch it multiple times when it first came out. It was fairly dark and gruesome so he couldn't understand why someone who lived alone would want to watch it so late at night.

By the time it was over you were on edge, you wanted to watch something a little less lovey-dovey but you forgot how creepy it could be. Even worse it was based on real-life events. Shuddering you took the bowl and empty glass to the sink, you would clean them tomorrow but for now, you just wanted to crawl into bed and let your fuzzy head pull you into a sweet slumber.

Brushing your teeth had suddenly become the hardest task in existence, the one on your shoulder was trying to bite down on your toothbrush while the curly-haired blonde was climbing up your pant leg, nipping you with his tiny claws. He ignored you as you tried to swing him off, just holding on tighter and looking up at you with demon eyes.

Once you had finished he was already halfway up your back and trying to join his friend on your other shoulder, continuing the trend of sniffing and tugging on your hair. Accepting defeat you climbed onto your plush mattress, curling up under the warm duvet, you would leave the window open so they could leave if they pleased since you had no desire to trap them inside to do their dirty business.

Soon enough the other two had joined you, the fluffy blonde resuming his favourite position against your chest while the snowy one took up guard at the end of the bed, shoving half of his body under the end of the quilt.

You would have to read something on bat behavior and human-bat relationships, doubting that their actions were normal for the usually avoidant nocturnal creatures.

As your mind began to drift away you felt something rubbing circles on your side as the soothing purring sounded from all around you.

-

You woke with your head buried against something warm, feeling a familiar pressure behind you you tried to turn only to find yourself trapped. Something was wrapped tight around your waist and thighs, looking down you saw an arm...or arms?

Beginning to panic you tried to move only to find your feet also weighted down, your body was overheating and the sun shining past the curtains wasn't helping. Whoever these people around you were, whatever they were, they were deep sleepers. As you twisted your body and pulled their arms away from you they barely moved an inch.

Once you were freed you stood in front of your window, looking at the four men who were in your room.

"Oh my god"

Gone were the four sweet bats that had fallen asleep cuddling you, in their place were four punks, snoring peacefully completely unaware of your terror. Nothing in your brain could explain what had happened, you had grown up on stories of vampires but this was something else.

As you continued to assess them you realised their hair matched those of the smaller beings they had replaced, one with a long blonde mane, one with glossy dark brown hair way past his shoulders, one with a curly blonde mullet and a platinum blonde mullet at the end of the bed. Each had hands and feet with long sharp nails, claws.

You were frozen for a good few minutes as you thought of a plan, you couldn't take them all on alone and you were sure if you tried to sneak past them they would wake up and try and capture you before you got help. It was then you saw how huddled together they were, beneath the platinum blonde's feet were a few rays of sunshine peeking through that he kept twitching away from.

Glancing at the curtain you realised that the window was still partially open and a slight breeze was blowing through, killing two birds with one stone you decided to test a theory, either way you would get an escape route and possibly find out if they were part of the undead. Gripping the cloth in your hands you took a deep breath before tugging it half-open.

If your heart was beating fast before it was thundering now, thrumming like a hummingbird's as four deadly growls sounded from the beings in front of you as they leapt up. Flattening against the walls on either side of your room, the only one still in front of you was the long blonde who was crouched behind your bed.

Four pairs of copper coloured eyes met your own as steam clouded their forms.

Holy shit

David wasn't prepared for this, they were supposed to leave long before the sun came up, realising now that they had fallen asleep with you. and trapped themselves in your home till the sun went down. Of course you were going to wake up, you weren't a creature of the night like them and the sun would naturally call to you.

Being woken up by the burning feeling of the sun scorching their skin was less than desirable. Even worse you were staring at them like a scared rabbit, wide eyed and shaking slightly as you held your curtain open. Nobody moved and the boys still needed a moment to recover, the pull of the sun was exhausting them but they couldn't rest while you were aware of what they were, it put them in too much of a dangerous position. David just needed to convince you to work in their favour, if he could just get a good look in your eyes, it would help if his feet weren't currently blistered but that could wait for now.

"Kitten..."

A soft voice drawled to your left and you met the eyes of the platinum blonde, he was staring at you with silent rage and you stepped closer to the window. Before you could he moved closer, reaching for the arm that was still in the shadows, you pulled away before he could get a hand on you, exposing the other side of the window as the curtain opened further, trapping him in the corner as he growled low in his throat.

This was going to be a long day.

[elycore]

I don't know if requests are still open but I've been thinking about Raiden Shogun's ability to create clones of herself in her boss battle and I was thinking about how hot it would be if Scaramouche could utilise that ability for more entertaining purposes

hi, anon!! thinks about sex immediately (to be fair, thats the appropiate context) yes, requests are open~ 3p scara x reader? sure can do! i'm thinking this will work like seele and veliona (breedable waifus, search them up) where 'kunikuzushi' is like part of scara, like veliona is with seele but instead of both sharing one body like seele and veli, scara can let kunikuzushi out in his own physical form so theres two of them at the same time...

fem!mean!dom!reader x two.. sub!bottom!scaramouches? (they fuck in the living room because they're all degenerates)((scaramouche = jealous))

can you tell i died at the porn part.. hha also this is like too long you dont have to read it LMAO this so rushed;))

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"hey, you know how your mom can makes clones, right? like the raiden shogun." you blurt out. the weather in inazuma is cool today, the cool breeze blowing through the air.

scaramouche flinches at the wording. "not my mom. but uh, yeah, what about it?" he gives you a look, scrunching his nose up.

you cup his cheeks, squeezing them and kissing his the tip of his nose. he yowls, startled by the sudden show of affection and jumping off of you. people are staring now. "hehe, well, can you do that too? since you're like her son."

"not her son." scara repeats, glaring but with a tint of pink on his cheeks. "but... i kind of can."

"whaddya mean kinda?" you tilt your head, urging him to go on. scaramouche sighs, and grabs your wrist to drag you into an empty alley to explain.

"um," he starts awkwardly. "i can only create clones of 'myself'. so like, i can't make another raiden shogun; only another 'me'. does that make sense?"

"so i can have two scaramouches? double holes?" you cling to his arm in excitement. scaramouche sputters at the wording.

"double what? ...anyways, you got your answer. i'm not doing it. not even for money." he turns to you, giving you his "that's final" look. of course, that didn't seal the deal for you.

"cmon please? i always give you stuff. you haven't repaid me for the two-hundred dango pack i ordered for you." you shoot him with a teary, puppy-eyed expression.

"that was literally a gift. and i..." you squish your breast against his arm, giving him your (attempted) most seductive look, sticking your tongue out just barely and lowering your eyes.

"we can have a lot of fun. you want that, right puppy?"

"this might take a bit." scaramouche took a deep breath as he rubbed his temples. "cover your mouth, (y/n)." with only that as a warning, you shriek as a cloud of dust suddenly envelopes your sight. you cough, slightly annoyed. your nose stung, and your eyes watered to the extent that it looked like you were crying (though you were sure scaramouche wouldn't have minded).

fanning the smoke away, you squint your eyes. scaramouche's shape is present with another person next to him, sitting on the floor. the smoke cleared after a moment, and you gasp.

a beautiful boy is sitting on the ground, looking confused. he had the same feautures as his lover, but his eyes were softer and he didn't have the looming aura of homicide. his long hair gathered around him like a puddle. "scaramouche, why did you call me?" even this boy's voice was angelic, unlike scara's who was rough (outside of the bedroom, at least).

"there's somebody you'd like to meet. kunikuzushi, meet (y/n). (y/n), meet kunikuzushi. she's my girlfriend. " scaramouche seemed more polite with his dual's presence, not wanting to be himself rude in front of kunikuzushi.

"kunikuzushi." you repeated, getting used to the long name. "it's nice to meet you!" kunikuzushi seemed less tense, shoulders relaxing as you smiled at him.

"to you, too. it's an honor to meet scaramouche's beloved." he returns the smile, eyes crinkling.

"you should be more like him. maybe i'd fuck you more," you whisper in scaramouche's ear, and he flushes, hissing a weak 'shut up'. kunikuzushi is staring at you both, confused.

"ahem. we need to get you some clothes, kuni." scaramouche interrupts, about to walk away.

"actually, he doesn't." you set your plan in action, violently tackling scaramouche to the floor by surprise. he's stunned by shock, before groaning in pain with the hard contact.

"(y/n), please do not hur-" kuni's cut off by you pouncing on him, locking your lips with his. kunikuzushi lets out a little gasp, before melting into the kiss. scaramouche glares at the sight of you engaging with his other self, trying to drag you down by the shoulders, but you return his glare.

"good boys get rewards, and this one's been pretty good. not you, of course," you start furiously making out with kunikuzushi again. kuni seemed confused, but stayed pliant as you started to toy with his dick. the blush on scara's face was left unnoticed as he sat on the ground, watching you and wishing he were in kuni's place for once.

too enchanted by his facial features before, you didn't kunikuzushi's body. his nipples were puffy and pink, like scaramouche's (you were sure his were rock hard, though). as one hand teased his erection, another was toying with his equally sensitive chest. kunikuzushi let out small pants, not used to this feeling. you could hear squelching behind you, an obvious sign that scaramouche was finger-fucking himself.

"(y/n)." scara's voice calls, a bit breathy. "if you're going to fuck him, make it good." he really thought kuni was the only one that was going to get wrecked tonight?

you return you attention to kuni, fumbling for your strap under the couch (scara had insisted on putting some around the house. a waste of money, but convenient at times). "(y/n), that isn't going to fit." kunikuzushi whispers. at least he knew what you were about to do.

"it will if i want it to." you reply with a sweet smile, before thrusting in raw. kunikuzushi chokes, although it wasn't the reaction you were hoping for. for some odd reason, he was unbelievably wet (later scaramouche had explained it as 'puppet perks').

as you fuck scaramouche's counterpart ruthlessly, scara spreads your ass and puts a finger inside your cunt. "you can't ignore how wet you are, darling. let me." with only that as a warning, he dives into you, licking into your pussy. your pace stutters, kunikuzushi letting out quick breaths while you stop. "you really thought i was going to ignore this?" scaramouche teases as he licks your clit. you grunt in response, bucking your hips up into kunikuzushi.

the three of you cry out in ectasy, two of you chasing your incoming orgasms. it didn't help for you that once you opened your eyes to take a break from the unrelenting pleasure, kunikuzushi would stare up into you with the lewdest expression, cheeks dusted with light pink. you finally caved in, gritting your teeth as you squirt all over scara's face. at the same time, kunikuzushi lets out an unholy mewl as he falls over the edge, cumming on his chest. the room is silent with heaving breaths, all of you exhausted.

"scaramouche," you breathe out, looking back at him. "you're not done yet."

yeah im stoppinghere

[doevademe]

Now I just gotta ask (and I bet you saw it coming) a drabble of Percy's proposal to Nico ✨️🙏please?

Everything was going according to plan.

Things were going great, perfect, even. He knew better than to hide the ring inside food or do something Nico would hate like pop the question in public. It was just going to be a nice walk in the park under the moonlight, and then proposing by Orpheus's entrance to the Underworld.

(It was romantic, okay? It was a place that they visited together, and the entrance itself only existed because of Orpheus being too in love with his wife to let her go.)

The only thing Percy failed to take into account, was the demigod factor.

Also known as the 'neither the gods nor monsters will ever let you be' factor.

"I don't remember anything about Orthrus being this resistant," Nico panted as he evaded another swipe of the two-head dog's gigantic paws. "Did we do something to it?"

"I mean, we technically killed its master," Percy said, remembering Geryon.

"That was almost twelve years ago!" Nico protested. "Where was it when you pierced his three hearts with an arrow?"

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say, as the dog snarled and used its whole body to pin Nico to the ground. His boyfriend squirmed to get away from the two maws trying to bite his face off.

"Get off him, you two-headed freak!" Percy yelled, stabbing him with Riptide. The dog yowled and swiped at him, giving Nico enough room to roll away.

"Percy!" Nico gasped at the new wound on his arm. He turned to glare at Orthrus. "That's enough!"

He raised his arm and started chanting, opening the earth for skeleton hands to hold the monster down.

However, Orthrus was smarter than either of them thought, as he used his second head to bite Nico's outstretched hand, making Nico scream.

"Nico!" He said, but before he could say or do anything more, a large shadow jumped over him.

Percy barely had time to raise his sword up as the shadow went past him and attacked Orthrus.

Snarling dangerously as she attached herself to the monster's neck, Mrs. O'Leary bit and thrashed violently, while Orthrus could do nothing with the skeletal hands holding him down.

"Good girl," both of them said at the same time. Nico smiled at him, but it came more as a wince as he struggled to keep the skeletons on Orthrus.

"I'll finish this," Percy said, approaching and whistling for Mrs. O'Leary to retreat. Orthrus had only half a second of respite before Percy plunged Riptide right on his wound, driving the sword up and taking off both heads at once.

The body thrashed as the skeletons kept dragging it down as it slowly turned to dust.

"Maybe when it reforms Eurytion can train him better," Percy commented, only to drop the sword at Nico hissing in pain. "You okay?"

Nico's hand was all bloody, with prominent bite marks on his wrist. Percy looked at it in worry.

"Nothing some ambrosia can't fix," Nico said, chuckling weakly. "Sorry I ruined the night."

"Don't say that," Percy said as he helped him up. It would take them a while to reach their apartment in Queens, where they kept their stash of ambrosia, unless... "Hey girl, think you can give us a lift?"

Mrs. O'Leary barked happily and knelt down.

"Sorry," Nico repeated. "You even said tonight was special and all, and I wasn't careful enough."

"I just wanted you to dress nice," Percy said gently, helping him up their dog's back. "It's more important that you are okay. Let's go home," he said both to him and to Mrs. O'Leary, whose ears turned back as she ran into a tree's shadow.

They appeared in the alleyway neir their building. Percy petted behind the dog's ears and promised her the biggest steak he could buy soon, making her slobber all over them.

"Even if it's not my fault, I'm still sorry your plan didn't pan out," Nico said, looking at his hand and frowning.

"Nico, nothing is ruined," Percy said. He looked around, was he really going to do this on a dingy alleyway by their building, with their giant hellhound as their witness and covered in dog slobber? "In fact, if tonight reminded me of something, is that we can't take each day for granted."

Yes, he was.

He knelt down and gave his best smile. Nico's eyes widened.

"Nico di Angelo, you are the most amazing person I have ever met," Percy said trying to remember the speech he had prepared. Most of it had references to Orpheus and Eurydice, though, so that was out. "I don't ever want to lose you like... like it could have happened today."

"Y-you're freaking out over me getting injured," Nico reasoned. "You don't even have—"

Percy pulled out the ring box, his smile turning sheepish.

"That's why tonight was special," he said. "So, what do you say? Will you marry me?"

Nico frowned and looked down to his side. Percy felt a slight surge of panic.

"My hand is fucked up right now," he muttered. Percy frowned, not understanding where Nico was going. "You can't put the ring on."

Percy's eyes widened before laughing. Leave it to Nico to worry over such a thing.

"Is that a yes?"

"Did you ever believe I would say no?" Nico asked back. "I have loved you ever since I met you."

"Nico..."

His fiance sighed.

"Yes, Percy Jackson, I will marry you," he said. He used his healthy hand to scrub at his face before any tears could spill. "Keep the ring until after I have this healed, though. I want you to put it on me."

"So traditional," Percy teased. Mrs. O'Leary barked happily.

"And that's why you're marrying me," Nico shot back.

"That, and a million other reasons."