#and a cat that is turning and swiping in fear

[dykespence]

lisa swain ass song

So basically you want me to die

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ good one | thomas hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003 + 2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Brown Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; references to extreme violence, stockholm syndrome i suppose?, kidnapping

♡ notes; this was literally supposed to be porn but instead here’s some weird sappy stuff lol

anyways hopefully more fics soon, writers block and rehearsals have been a bitch and a half

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

It was a wonder you were still alive. That’s what you thought about, sitting and fidgeting in the strange bedroom with your ankle shackled. Was shackled the right word if it was tied with rope? Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were fairly certain you’d fall prey to the crazy folks running around the place soon enough. The group you’d hitched a ride with was already long gone- one you’d watched get shot point blank by the bullshit sheriff. The others….well, you heard the chainsaw and the screaming. It was an easy conclusion to come to, especially after you saw the bloody smears on the hardwood downstairs.

You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been hacked into bits yet. You’d been indistinguishable from the others- just another wandering twenty-something with tight clothes and next to no money. The only thing you could think of was that gas station. Your companions had been such dicks to the lady at the counter- of course you apologized to her. She’d been just as kind in return, she even snuck a candy into your bag of sodas and snacks. She was the one who’d sent you that way, towards the farm house.

You stilled, train of thought lost as you heard footsteps. Heavy and slow- they were somehow more intimidating than any angry stomping could have been. You curled your legs up defensively, eyes trained on the door. The person stood there more than a second, silent and just as still as you were holding. If you hadn’t been listening so intently, you would have thought they turned and walked away. But then there was some quiet mumbling- a woman’s voice, maybe?- and the door creaked open.

“Go on Tommy dear- I found a good one for you.”

You’d never seen a man so tall- with shoulders so broad or arms and torso so solid. He was massive. He was terrifying. And he was attractive. Once your eyes unglued themselves from his figure you finally took in the rest. Dark, thick shoulder-length waves. A mask that seemed useless as any sort of medical device thanks to the open mouth. Eyes that were dark but not brown. Maybe blue, maybe gray..maybe just pure black. Like a shark’s. In other circumstances you'd be reduced to a puddle on floor over him. But the bloodstains on his shirt didn’t go unnoticed.

You watched him closely, and he watched you just as alertly, stalking forward like some jungle cat…No. Wait. That wasn’t right. He didn’t look scared, but he was cautious, keeping some distance. Maybe a better allegory would be he looked like he was trying to corner a feral kitten- not wanting you to swipe or dart away. As if doing either was possible. You were frozen with fear, though found the courage to lean back a bit as he stepped forward. He grunted softly and persisted, nearly trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

Love at first sight was a stupid fucking concept. That you’d always believe. Maybe something in you just broke that same moment, maybe you were just too exhausted to think even close to straight. Maybe both. But when you and this massive man locked eyes, there was an instant understanding. He was already yours- and more importantly, you’d be his. He just had to stake his claim.

“…you’re Tommy?” You practically whispered. He nodded quickly. You got a sense he didn’t speak much, but you told him your name in return and tried to think of anything to talk about to stall the inevitable. “…you killed those people?” You blurted for some godforsaken reason. He tensed, still hovering over you. “It’s okay.” You added quickly “I didn’t actually know them. They were kinda mean.”

He furrowed his brow just a bit and searched your face, for any signs that you were lying. Before he came to a conclusion, you gave a soft sigh, instinctively leaning into the hand that had raised your face to him. Something immediately softened about him, and he rubbed your cheek in awe. The sleepy giggle it caused seemed almost to startle him. It was like no one had ever been that soft with him. Maybe they hadn’t. “….this is your room right? Can we sleep?”

Tommy still seemed in shock but carefully nodded, undoing his apron and seeming at a loss of what to do next. He frowned a bit as he noticed your bindings and quickly undid the knot that kept you stuck there. His guard was down- you could try to run. But you didn’t want to. Doing so would only be tiring. You wanted to let go. So instead you smiled softly and simply opened your arms, letting him cuddle up with you. It took him a minute to get settled, and all the while treating you so delicately… like you were made of glass. He looked up at you, again searching your face in near confusion. He grunted in surprise as you pecked his forehead. His mama really did find him a good one.

[cumikering]

Keegan Russ x reader

3.5k | fluff, second chance, childhood friends

You matched with Keegan on Tinder

@glitterypirateduck’s holiday challenge, inspired by I Don’t Do Drugs by Doja Cat

“No way.” You shook your head. “Not Keegan goddamn Russ.” You chuckled as you stared at his profile.

It’d been over 15 years since you saw him last. His teeth might have been straight, bowl cut replaced by a far more fitting fade cut, but his sharp blue eyes and easy smile remained. They were unmistakable.

This dude hadn’t crossed your mind in years, but you were pleasantly surprised to see he’d grown to be a tall and athletic Marine. You hated to admit that he got hot, even that not having a stupid haircut wasn’t a very high bar to begin with.

You zeroed in on his smile again. He was attractive and he knew it. He couldn’t have been there for anything serious.

You laughed to yourself. “What the hell,” you said and swiped right on him.

At the other end of town, Keegan laid in bed, swiping mindlessly on his phone.  Left… Left… Oh!? … Yeah, another left… Until his hand froze when he saw your card.

“Goddamn,” he muttered as he rolled to his side, clutching his phone. Where the hell were you all this time?

He took his time ogling your photos. The first one was a full body picture, your figure on display in your tight jeans. The second was a selfie, your eyes bright, donning a brilliant smile and glossy lips. The last two were group photos. He loved your style – comfortable yet tasteful. Your genuine laughter and the twinkle in your eye as you sat among your friends mesmerised him.

Okay, so you were the life of the party.

Keegan often worried about not having enough to say and preferred chattier dates who’d lead the conversation. Evidently, he didn’t have to worry about that with you…  Because you probably wouldn’t even look at him twice. With looks like that, you could have anyone.

He lay on his back and gawked at your selfie again, biting his lip.

“What the hell,” he said to himself and swiped right.

He nearly dropped his phone on his face when it chimed right away. It’s a match! He gasped.

He stared at the empty chat window, fingers drumming on his thigh as he contemplated what to say. He wished he had more game.

After a minute, he settled with a simple Hi, hope you’re doing alright :) are you from the area?

You seemed a little quiet the first day of texting, but he’d expected that, a usual occurrence in his endeavour. Keegan didn’t relent, coming up with discussions, although some he had to admit were rather lame. Soon, you asked him specific questions about himself, allowing the conversation to pour throughout the days. He stopped thinking too hard when replying.

As it turned out, you were from the same hometown. You went to different high schools, but had a few mutual friends, although none he knew anymore. He barely kept in contact with anyone back home safe for the handful of his close high school friends.

Now that he reached for his phone far more often on base, grinning at that, it took no time for people to notice the newfound habit.

“We need to tell command someone’s hardly working.” Ajax nudged Kick, nodding at Keegan at the far end of the rec room. “He keeps looking at that one selfie.”

He chuckled. “If it’s too good to be true, it probably is. Don’t get catfished, bro.”

“Or ghosted.” Ajax roared in laughter. He had no business sounding so proud of his pun.

Keegan’s eyes narrowed at them before looking back down at his phone. He wasn’t going to let his buddies stop him from sending you the What kind of bread are you? quiz.

At night, it’d also become a routine to text. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but it grew to be the highlight of his day. He could unwind and laugh with you without having to wait long to have you text back. His bed felt less empty, a little less cold.

“I’d really like to meet you. You’re wonderful,” he said longingly at his phone.

He knew he wanted to after the third day, but didn’t initiate a date in fear of moving too fast and appalling you. But after over a week, with his next deployment inching closer, he’d grown impatient and a bit mad at himself for overthinking the matter. He didn’t remember asking anyone on a date being that unnerving.

Unprompted, your name flashed across his screen, sending his heart racing. Keegan sat up and cleared his throat before answering.

“Hey,” he said with as much smoothness as he could muster.

“Hi, Keegan.”

He could hear the smile in your voice, and he prayed he had even a fraction of the effect you had on him, on you.

“I was wondering if you’re into soccer?”

His brows furrowed. Hell no, he wasn’t at all.

“You want to watch the World Cup screening with me Saturday night?”

But for you? Well for you, he was the biggest fan in town.

“Sure,” he answered immediately. He couldn’t believe his ears. Was it Christmas already?

“For dinner, there’s a taco truck I like near the sports bar, if you’d like to try.”

He tried not to smile too much, but he was failing miserably. He was two seconds away from puking out the butterflies in his stomach.

“Sounds great,” he breathed. “I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

“Me too.” Your easy voice calmed him.

Kick’s comment crossed his mind. He stilled for a moment and decided he didn’t care what you looked like. The little of you he got to know the past week was enough to get him hooked.

“Well, I only wanted to ask that. I’m going to bed.”

“So soon?”

You let out a small laugh. Oh, he wanted to stay on the phone all night.

“Talk to you again tomorrow, okay? Send me more quizzes.”

After you hung up, he bit down a silly grin as he pulled up your photos again.

The following night, struck with a sudden burst of confidence, Keegan called when you were both in bed. He’d expected the pauses on his end (which was why he always preferred texting), but you didn’t seem to mind. At least he knew you weren’t opposed to talking to him. You stayed on the line for half an hour, your laughter lulled his reeling mind.

Saturday couldn’t have come sooner. He’d shaved that morning and put on some cologne before taking way too long to pick an outfit. He hoped it didn’t look like he was trying too hard.

You declined his offer to pick you up. He didn’t take it personally - he was a patient man after all. But when he’d arrived a little too early, he started to lose his cool the longer he leaned on the streetlamp.

He had to do a double take when he caught sight of you walking towards him. Oh, look at the way you lit up, your smile the same brilliant one like in your photos. You were in those delightful jeans again, your hair bouncing to your steps. He straightened up and met you halfway.

“Hi,” you said when you got to him.

“Hey.” His smile didn’t waver. “You look great.”

You took the words out of his lips, the words that he already had so few of. This was the opposite of catfish because you were far prettier in real life. He needed you to hold his hand because he wasn’t going to look where he was going.

He couldn’t wait to brag to Kick and Ajax.

You looked up at him, eyes bright. “Thank you. You look nice yourself.”

He followed you to join the short queue. He stole a glance as you ordered.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said to the cook, giving your hand a gentle nudge when you tried to pay.

First skin contact. Innocent enough.

But why did it get so warm all of a sudden? He hoped he wasn’t sweating. Fuck, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he shove them in his pockets? How close was the acceptable distance to stand next to you?

Well, he certainly stood close enough for you to catch a faint waft of his cologne.

You meant it when you said he looked good. He wore a light jacket over a black shirt, light washed jeans and sneakers. His jet black hair was styled, a little longer than in his photos. The way he stood with his hands in his pockets accentuated his build, his watch a nice touch.

Sure, curiosity got you at first. It quickly came to light that he didn’t recognise you – granted you used a nickname – but you found it amusing nonetheless. You didn’t even mean it to get that far but after talking to him, you couldn’t help but want more.

Dating was always daunting; putting your heart on the line like that rendered you vulnerable. It wasn’t that he didn’t reciprocate – his company was delightful, but whatever you had between you felt stagnant. You thought your initial assumption was right: he wasn’t looking for anything more. Was this a mistake after all?

You sat on the bench nearby, the drinks between you. You took two bites before you stalled.

Your face twisted. “Why’s this hot?”

“Is it? Mine isn’t at all.”

“It is ridiculously hot.” You blinked the tears away.

“Can’t be. Let me try.”

You handed him the taco, instead he grabbed your wrist and leaned in for a bite.

He gave you an amused smile. “It’s not hot at all. Here, I’ll have yours.”

By now, a few drops of sweat had broken out of your forehead. You didn’t question it when he swapped the paper plates on your thighs and took a huge bite.

It wasn’t supposed to be hot! This was so uncool, at your first meeting at that. Your gaze trained on the ground as you took a small bite of his which actually tasted normal. When you looked up, it was his turn to frown.

“Wait. It is.” He put the taco down. ”It is hot.”

“I told you!”

“Oh God. Oh shit,” he hissed, scrambling for his drink. “Why is it so hot?”

You stifled a giggle. “They must have put the wrong sauce in mine, because yours tastes fine.”

“My tongue had never known such pain. What the hell is in this thing?” He continued gulping down his drink. “Oh no, it’s getting worse.” He sniffled before shoving the last half into his mouth.

“You know you don’t have to eat it, right?” You busted into laughter as he chew with all his might. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

His brows knitted, the agony in his watery eyes as clear as day. You handed him a serviette.

“That’s inhumane, but I’m a man of my word,” he said between hisses, wiping at his forehead. “My mouth is on fire. I need to inhale fire extinguisher.”

You could only offer him your drink which he gladly chugged. Still giggling, you finished your meal before making your way to the bar.

“I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing.” He grimaced through his drying tears, forehead still damp. “But at least you’re laughing. I like it when you laugh.”

You wanted to kiss him right then.

Keegan was the first man to make you willingly lose sleep in a long time, but his inaction didn’t sit right with you. Self-doubt inevitably crept up - maybe you simply weren’t his type, but you were too hooked to not at least shoot your shot despite your mounting fear of rejection. Your heart lodged in your throat when you called him that night.

Oh but his voice was so calm and soothing, and what for? He got you hanging onto every word - some straight up sounded like he was purring. Like now, he had to lean in closer and closer to talk over the noise as the bar continued to fill up. The deep rumble of his laughter so close in your ear got you biting your lip.

You didn’t want to like him so much, but here you were smiling non-stop the past hour. He’d taken his jacket off, his sturdy arms on display as he lay back. Now that was the highlight of his outfit. It didn’t help that he kept looking at you like that either; blue eyes piercing, brows striking with a cool smile.

It was unfair how effortlessly charming he was, like it was simply an unfortunate by product of being Keegan Russ, like he didn’t even mean it.

Well, evidently, Keegan was literally sweating about the humiliating incident. He sincerely hoped you wouldn’t excuse yourself to the bathroom to stand him up, but the smile hadn’t left your pretty face ever since. That was a good sign right?

Halfway into the first half, he extended his arm along the back of your seat, eyes still on the screen pretending to not notice the way your lips curled in amusement. You dragged your chair against his, thighs touching now. His fist clenched when you placed your hand on his knee.

He was secretly glad this was your first date – if he could even call it that. At least there was no pressure to keep making conversation and he could focus on your company, which he thoroughly enjoyed thus far. Was wrapping his arm around your waist an appropriate next move? He itched to be closer.

“How long have you been on Tinder?” You turned to him during halftime.

“A few months now.”

“Any luck?”

He looked away, shaking his head. “I don’t get a lot of matches, and when I do - even after many weeks of talking… Well as it turned out, people just aren’t very interested in dating long distance.”

When his eyes flicked up and met your sympathetic look, he wondered if he shouldn’t have been so honest.

“You? Any luck so far?” he asked quickly.

“I went on a few dates with someone who looked an awful lot like my first crush.” You let out a small laugh. “But that’s all. It didn’t work out.”

A speck of jealousy flickered in his chest. “Tell me about him. Your first crush.”

“Well, I was a late bloomer. It was in high school, he was a sophomore when I was a freshman.”

“Handsome dude?”

“Yes, but I actually never spoke to him.” You tilted your head and smiled. “Well, I did once, kind of. I don’t know what possessed me, but one day I walked up to him and gave him a bar of chocolate. He said thanks, and that was it.”

You looked over him. The crowd had started to move towards the bar

“I’ll get us more drinks before the wait gets too long.” You stood up.

Keegan perked up; he wasn’t going to miss his chance. When you came back, he’d mustered all his courage to tug on your wrist to sit on his lap. There was a glint in your eye as you indulged and he snaked his arm behind you, hand on his knee. You had a playful smile on your lips when you moved it to your waist and wrapped your arm around his neck.

He leaned onto your shoulder, his chest pressing against your side. He watched the way your eyes transfixed on the screen, how your glass would freeze against your lower lip at times. He couldn’t help smiling when you tensed up whenever someone got close to scoring a goal. His other arm wrapped around your waist.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you when the bar erupted in cheers. You turned to him with a proud grin. Oh, your lips were just right there. He wasn’t going to survive the night.

Your favourite team won and you left the bar beaming. You were glad he offered to walk you home because you still wanted his presence. Your fingers curled around his forearm.

“I didn’t get to ask about your first crush.”

He chuckled to himself. “We were in fifth grade.”

“You ever told her?”

He shook his head. “She hated me. My friends used to tease her about her weight. I didn’t join in but I hung around anyway. I guess when you’re young you do dumb things to fall in.”

You remembered the raucous boys he hung out with.

“Over the summer, I convinced myself to finally say something, but she’d moved away.”

Had he not looked at where you were going, he’d have seen the shock on your face. Your heart skipped a beat. Is he talking about me?

“What was she like?”

“My memory’s fuzzy now, but she had two other girlfriends they teased too but she always stood up for them. Oh, was sassy too.” He smiled. “I used to stand around to overhear her jokes. If I laughed along, she’d stare me down until I left.”

You laughed, too hard for someone who supposedly wasn’t involved in the story. You remembered that too, the way prepubescent Keegan Russ and his dumb bowl cut scrambled away when you gave him bombastic side eye.

You couldn’t believe it. He had a crush on you?

“I think had I spoken up, we’d have been good friends.” He glanced at you with a smile. “You know, when I heard she’d moved away, I came home crying and my mum smacked me upside the head. Told me not to hang around with the shithead boys anymore.”

You stopped in your tracks and took your hand off his arm. “You really don’t recognise me?”

He turned to you, brows furrowed. “What?”

“You used to paste Superman stickers on my Barbie backpack.”

Keegan’s eyes widened. He turned away, a hand over his face, laughing out of pain. No fucking way. He wanted to disappear.

You chuckled. “A new one whenever I managed to peel the previous one off. Said they were boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t recognise you at all.” He lowered his hand. “But you don’t even have the same name?”

“It’s the internet. You’re the weird one for using your real name.”

His brows rose. “You knew it was me all along?”

“Right away.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” He chuckled. “That’s just mean.”

“Was wondering if you remembered, but we were kids. I’m not surprised you didn’t recognise me or forgot.”

The corner of is lips pulled. “Well, I didn’t forget.” And probably won’t. You haven’t left my mind the past week.

And that voice was back, of course. He definitely knew what he was doing, and still you couldn’t get enough.

“Wait, no. Is this it?” He frowned. “Did you talk to me the entire time- meet me just for this?”

“No! No. I wanted to see you.” The edge in his voice stung more than you expected. “I… I didn’t think you’d even want to, because you didn’t make a move.”

His cold eyes searched yours, making your heart ache. If only he knew how much he made you smile, how many times a day you wished he’d replied when you checked your phone. You never wanted to see that pain in his face again.

“Please don’t lead me on,” he finally said, his gaze softening. “Not when you know you don’t want this.”

You wanted to hold him. “I promise I won’t. I know it’s early to say, but I want to try.”

He took a small step towards you. “Are you sure you like me?”

Suddenly he was once again the young Keegan who couldn’t meet your eyes, asking if you wanted to share the last of his favourite chocolate with him.

“Are you?”

“Positive.” His icy blues were back on you. You saw the wary hopefulness in them.

You closed the gap, arms wrapping around his waist. You let out a small sigh as your head rested on his shoulder.

“May I see you again?” He pulled you closer, his voice lighter now. “I want to go on a date. A real one, with my first crush with the death stare.”

You laughed against his neck.

Keegan hated getting ahead of himself, not knowing how many more times his hopes could be shattered before the shards get too small to meet again. But as he held you, he let his mind drift, just a little further, just this time.

With his eyes closed, he thought that maybe in the future - perhaps soon enough, someone would be waiting at the base to welcome him back with a smile and an embrace just like this.

More Keegan: fake dating, werewolf AU

A/N: I think the song represents the uncertainty in the initial stages of falling, when you keep trying to swallow the hopefulness, cautious of each other’s intentions as to not get hurt. It takes bravery handing your heart over to a stranger, unsure if they’ll just stomp on your feelings or be the best thing ever.

@sofasoap @b1rds3ye @macravishedbymactavish @shadofireshinobi @two-gh0sts

[awritesthings1]

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: You ask your husband Tommy if he believes in ghosts. The answer might surprise you.

Warnings: dark, angst, spooky.

ao3 link

-

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

It was near the end of winter, and another autumn of earl grey teas and tireless raking of crunchy leaves was fast approaching Arrow House. Tommy’s peaky cap lived on the coat hanger by the front door, dusted in the faint smell of smog. Gone was the silver razor; the Shelby’s were much too respectable for that anymore. In came the monogram initials, all of which had been carefully handstitched onto cuffs and collars to match golden cufflinks, and out came the fine woolen overcoats.

The weather lay thickly that year over the English countryside, enough to invoke a ghostly mist around the trimmed hedges and shorn grass. A stillness crept in as sly as a cat when the fog came down, covering all life with a sheer dew. The garden retired into a dull combination of cool greens and toe-curling crystal air.

It was at this time of year that the monsters came out to play in their ominously shaped shadows and faint howls. Where there was a tick of movement, an airy silence and childhood fear followed. Tommy would have teased you endlessly for your paranoia if he hadn’t suffered through the same fate after the war. You supposed he had more of a right than you because his fears came from a very real place, and yours were out of superstition.

“Spirits,” Tommy clarified. “Yes, it’s in my blood.”

“But have you ever seen one?”

Tommy turns his head to look at you, squeezing you closer to his chest from where you both lay under the covers.

“Why’d you ask?” His accent was thicker in the morning.

If anyone knew anything about spirits, it would be your husband. He was more superstitious than you due to his gypsy blood. The things he told you about the community were nothing short of witchcraft—charming dogs, telling fortunes, and cursing wrong'uns. It puzzled you at first that your seemingly pragmatic, calculating husband believed nothing short of Madame Boswell’s words as nothing but gospel.

You stared out the window, attempting to conjure up the right words, but shivered instead when his fingers ghosted across your back.

“Well… I don’t know. I don’t think I would believe in something until I saw it for sure with my own two eyes.”

He hummed and smiled lazily. “Why do people believe in God, hm?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged as best you could in his embrace.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Eh?”

“Have you ever seen a spirit?"

Tommy’s eyes glazed over in thought. It was the answer you dreaded.

“Yes.”

“Were you scared?”

He blinked out of the daze.

“No.”

Your hand moved to rest on the cusp of his cheek.

“What happened?”

He cleared his throat and laced his hand with yours there on his face.

“I was nine. Madame Lovell’s nephew drowned in a lake the day before, and then on the day of the funeral, it rained. I was running back from over the hill when I saw him. He stood there staring at me through the spray of rain.”

Your thumb swiped over the tops of Tommy’s cheekbones.

“You’re certain? Maybe the rain got in your eye, and what you saw was a shadow or maybe even an eyelash in your eye. That happens to me sometimes.”

“I know what I saw.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, then tried to picture the scene for yourself. You stood atop some grassy hill, peering down into the valley. Dark plumes of smoke rose from a small coffin stationed at the bottom of the hill, slivering up through the wildflowers and tree branches to where you stood. Then there, through the smoke and rainfall that blinded your eyes, was the boy who drowned.

“Was he scared?”

A pause, then: “no.”

That night, you settled by your vanity, combing out knots and patting lotion onto your skin. The haunted look of that boy Tommy said he saw lingered in the back of your mind, and every vague shape or shadow shifted in the corner of your eye. Paranoia—that's all it was. You didn’t want to be caught staring at a dark corner like some half-mad crook. Tommy would be crossing the threshold into your room any moment now. Maybe if his last-minute business hadn’t held him up in his office, he would be here with you now, and you wouldn’t be glancing over at that suspicious coat hanging up by the wardrobe. The lamps that were lit didn’t stretch far enough to illuminate the monsters from their hiding spots.

It was a trick of the brain, that’s all.

And surely enough, Tommy’s footsteps were heard down the hall. Your shoulders slumped in relief. The autumn season was only one for the dramatics.

Your hand cream pot clattered onto the vanity, swirling in circles until it came to a stop just as you heard Tommy outside the door. But when you stood to greet him with a kiss, the door to your bedroom remained closed, and the doorhandle remained still.

“You can come in!" You laughed, but a sort of coldness seized your heart with terror when you wondered why Tommy was just standing there on the other side.

“Tommy?” You inquired after a painfully thin stretch of silence.

Again, nothing.

You reached for your comb, holding the long, sharp piece you used to part your hair out like a knife. You weren’t naïve. Tommy had enemies, opportunistic ones, too.

And so you stood there, straining to hear any noise beyond your heartbeat that thundered in your ears. You tried slowing your breathing to hear better, but your eyes then began to water from the strain and your refusal to blink. Then it happened, as abruptly as you imagined. The door burst open. Tommy rushed in, slammed the door shut behind him, and stormed over to the closet without so much a look in your direction.

“Tommy?” You squawked, still seized in terror.

He grunted, shrugging on his overcoat and snatching his leather gloves from the tallboy.

“What’s going on?”

Finally, he paused. His eyes were bloodshot and far away. You feared he looked through you rather than at you. He came closer then, pulling you into his arms and laying a warm kiss on your temple.

“Everything’s ok, darling.”

“Where are you going?” Your voice broke. “Did something happen?”

“No…” He hushed. “No.”

“Then where are you going? It’s still dark outside!”

He sighed into your disheveled hair, then pulled away.

“I need to check on one of the horses. Get into bed; I’ll be back soon.”

You clutched his lapels in protest. “No!”

He said your name sternly: “I really need to go. Frances is in her room if you need anything.”

“Tommy, I heard something!” Then, you lowered your voice so only he could hear, “I think someone’s in the house.”

He pulled you in by the scruff of your neck. “No one’s here, love. It’s just us and Frances.”

His boots thud severely against the wooden floor to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Begrudgingly, you let him leave and confined yourself to the bed, pulling the covers over your face like a small child afraid of the dark. You left all the lights on, determined to let any intruders know that yes, you were home, and yes, you would see them coming. Tommy would be back soon, and if Tommy didn’t suspect anything amiss, he was probably right.

But the grandfather clock in the other room kept ticking, tick tick tick, and little fairies scampered about in the garden below. The moon’s solemn gaze glared judgingly through the windows, past the squinting shutters, and onto your skin. Ink from family portraits bled into one horrifying mess of shadows. You threw back the hungry covers, which seemed to be swallowing you whole, and knocked your shoulder into the jaw of the door (you had mistaken it for being further than it really was). A teacup flew off a shelf, but you dodged it with one ugly turn of your ankle.

Then you ran down the winding stairs, through the narrowing hallway, and out the chattering front doors of Arrow House. A lustrous mist had fallen over the land, thick enough that your arms whipped around senselessly, blinded by the clouded night, in your attempt to trek to the stables.

The stable gates were banging back and forth by the time you reached them. They whack your behind when you pass them, and you would’ve cried if it weren’t for the airy atmosphere peeling the moisture from your eyes.

“Tommy!”

A clack of hooves answered you.

Your feet burned despite the bitter cold, swelling with each step. Still in your nightgown, the elements worked together, clawing, scratching, and biting at your bare skin. The swell of a draft caught the tip of your nose, and you whipped around just in time to see a coat disappearing around the back of the stable where the paddock was.

Fear acted like a glaze of sweltering iron, hissing the rhythm out of your heart.

“I can see you!” You tried to warn as if you were the hunter and not the hunted.

Leather hands wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

“Are you insane, eh?” Tommy’s gruff voice scolded in your ear.

You turned around to crumple into his embrace.

“Tommy, something’s not right about this house.”

“Is that why you’re out here? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

It could have been a ghost, a careful soulless thing—a soundless haunting memory with no cause for action, warping around the edges of reality. It was then a great whipping lash of winter lakes and violent snowflakes cut into the lines of your knuckles and sliced beneath your skin.

Your lips moved sometime after that, or maybe it was before; you couldn’t remember. Nothing seemed to make sense. The man in the moon wound away your surroundings one by one, like a fisherman with his catch on a hook.

“What?”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what, Tommy?”

Silence held a knife to your neck.

“Out in the paddock..." His dark, long eyelashes brushed earnestly along his high-cut cheekbones, and you feared the thought that had seemingly paralyzed your husband from saying any more. If it weren’t already dark, a shadow might’ve passed over his features.

A fountain of words prepared to gush out, but you slipped on a puddle that appeared around your feet. You stepped back with a gasp. It wasn’t raining.

“I’m sorry, my love. I should’ve listened to you.”

The puddle kept growing. Words turned into water.

“What the fuck is happening, Tommy?"

His thumb brushed the apple of your cheek.

“I’ll avenge you. I will.”

You cried.

“Shhh, don’t be afraid, darling." Tommy kissed your ice-cold forehead.

You choked. Water: water pooled out of your mouth and suffocated your lungs. You couldn't breathe.

“Go back to bed for me, eh?”

All over your nightgown—water, water, water.

The horse trough out in the paddock, the goldfish swimming past your cheek, straw in your teeth, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, no response, no one, the weight of a hand tangling in your hair, air, air, air, no air.

Drip, drip, drip.

Water in your eyes, ears, nose, mouth—

You never saw them coming.

“I promise, love. I’ll get the bastards that…”

He choked as if he were also choking on water, water, water.

“I never saw them coming, Tommy,” you hiccupped, but it was all water, water, water—

“I know.”

Gurgling.

“I just wanted to find you.”

“I know, I know.”

They pinned your arms back.

“The fucking water trough, Tommy!”

He swallowed painfully.

You couldn’t see him anymore. His face had washed away in your straw, goldfish, blood, water, water, water, tears. Blindly, you traced under his eyes and felt his salty, grief, widowed, water tears.

There’s so much tears and sorrow there in that stable that it begins pouring from outside and through the roof. Most days it was in the paddock, but tonight it was here.

Frances, the housekeeper, watched from her window. On these types of nights, when Arrow House became entrapped in a spell and rain drizzled over the countryside, Thomas Shelby would squelch across the overgrown grass to the paddock behind the stable before disappearing. Where he went, she didn’t know. The hazy sheet of mist left much to the imagination. What he saw out there? She didn’t know either. The poor bastard probably just missed his wife.

Frances briefly left her room to peer into Mr. Shelby’s. Letting out a sigh of relief, the room appeared untouched, still frozen in the state Mrs. Shelby left it when she went out to find her husband that tragic night. The sheets were still tossed aside, the teacup still shattered on the ground, her comb still waiting on the bedside table.

Satisfied with her findings, she turned to leave when—

What’s that?

A puddle.

There must be a leak somewhere.

Oh well, she’ll see to it in the morning.

With that, she quietly crept away to her room and fell back asleep, undisturbed by the chattering shutters or creaking floorboards. Not even the ghostly cries down the hall woke her.

After all, there was no such thing as ghosts, only things that went bump in the night.

-

Taglist: @maliceofwonderland , @fairytale07 , @goblinjnr , @ilovepeoplesdads , @multidimensionalslut , @blogforficslol

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Sibling Cat Hybrids: Patricia and Pepper

Deciding to take on hybrids was something you were hesitant to do 

Besides being morally controversial for you, it was a huge hit to your spending money

But you got tired of the faux pride you got donating to hybrid-care facilities 

So instead you decide to walk into a shelter (one with good practices)

And you tell them upfront that you’re willing to open your home and heart to the ones who need you most

Crippled, rejected for looks, attitude problems

The helper lights up and then deflates before asking some leading questions

“Do you like cats?”

And that is how you are given Patricia and Pepper

This sister and brother duo are two sides of the same kind

Patricia has a luxuriously long tail and grooming routine that matches

“Are you illiterate? The signed packet told you I needed to be groomed, shampooed, and conditioned regularly.”

“Well yeah, that’s why I left everything in the bathroom.”

“Hold on! You think I’m doing this myself?! Nuh-Uh, You have so much to learn! Grab the brush and pull up a stool, now!”

Demanding as she is gorgeous Patricia is a cat girl with expensive tastes

Until that day she’ll likely swipe your credit card to buy the incredibly overpriced brand-powered shampoo 

And just curl her lip at you when you confront her

“Don’t cry, if you keep working hard I’m sure you’ll pay it off.”

For as unhelpful and arrogant as she is, her brother is an extreme opposite

“I know you showed us to those extra rooms just for us but i-if you don’t mind my stench I think I can serve you better in your room!”

“What?!”

“I’ll be happy to sleep on the floor! I promise I’ll be useful!”

Pepper’s always so eager to help and talk himself down

You’ll literally have to fight him to make sure he’s sleeping and taking care of himself instead of the home

“P–please I’ll probably eat once I finish cleaning this one last thing.”

“Probably?! No, you look like you’ve lost too much weight!”

“Nooo please!”

This dynamic will be going on for a long while 

You going to work and returning home to find either Pepper in danger needlessly risking his life 

Or Patricia throwing out all of your childhood memorabilia because she felt it was tacky

Maybe for once you shed a tear

Or you yell

Or you just completely shut down from any conversation 

In the end, you leave 

For a long time

Longer than you’d go to the store or even work

You’re just gone

“Pat I think you did it again. You scared them off!”

“I scared them off? Please I know very few people who’d be happy coming home to a corpse.”

“At least I was trying to be useful!”

“I took care of the grooming they didn’t do, that’s plenty generous.”

“Thanks to you, they’re sending us away! I really liked this one!”

“Don’t blame me, you cur! They’re leaving because you appall them!”

They argue for hours

Because they are siblings

And it helps with filling the sound of you going through your nightly routine

By the end of it, both of their hair are sticking out 

they’re pacing while nervously staring at the door

So many thoughts in their head 

The embarrassment of being sent back

The disappointment and scorn from the employees when they return

The pain they felt when you reacted the way you did

The suffocating fear of you leaving them forever

They’ve had absent owners…but they were always that way

You were there even if you sighed and scolded them, you were still there

You might’ve kept to yourself but you didn’t ignore them

At the end of the day, they still ate together with you

… They really didn’t like this

When the lock on the door clicks and the light clicking of a turn begins 

They’re leaping for the door

Capturing you in a hug you can’t escape from

“We missed you! I-I’m very sorry! I fished out and cleaned everything! Please forgive me! And please don’t just send me away! Oh and my brother too.”

“PLEASEDON’TSENDUSAWAYPLEASEDON’TPLEASEPLEASEIMIGHTBEPUSHEDTOSTRAPABOMBTOMYSELFANDBLOWINGUP—”

“Whoa whoa, I’m not sending you guys away. Also, Pepper what was that you were going to say?”

“WAAAAHHHH tHANK THAank YOu! WAHHH” 

After Pepper can breathe, you don’t mind sitting down with them to finally speak

“I’m glad you’re not sending us away. I was certain you found us annoying enough to.”

“Oh no I do find you two annoying.”

“What?! wwwwWAAHHHH!”

“But I’m not going to send you away because of that. Also, I think it’s pretty crummy that I can even do that after all the paperwork I signed.”

“WAHH! I’M ANNOYING!?”

“Yes, Pepper now shush. That’s very mature of you I also appreciate your honesty.”

 Ultimately they relax when it comes to being sent away

But they’re worried that you barely address your annoyance 

“Even my friends annoy me. It’s not that bad.”

“But it is. I–we pushed you so far…we’d like not to do this again.”

“I-I think…Pat and I just want to please you…maybe more than just what your morals allow.”

Thus a new routine has begun

One that won’t have you leaving for hours on end

“Good Evening dirt on my heels, who’s going to give me a gift big enough to buy that Prada collar I’ve been eying?”

Now Patricia streams finding a small group of people willing to fund her interests allowing her to contribute to the home 

Pepper continues to clean up the house but with new parameters

“Here (Y/n)! I took pictures of me eating all my meals today! See? Now can I get head pats?”

This works allowing them not to get on your nerves while you navigate life with your two hybrids

If they have any say in it that’ll be all you’ll be aware of

On the other side, Patricia and Pepper are taking their independence very seriously

“Pepper, did you finish your dossier on the coworker who called yesterday?”

“I did, here’s the file. I’ve already gone to the trouble of mapping out their routine; highlighting the best times depending on the method we use.”

“Good work. Now next report?”

“Yes! I found this while cuddling (Y/n) last night~ They got all giggly when I touched a specific spot with my tail.”

“...Last night where was I?”

“Dealing with the neighbor’s loud little pest.”

“Right…For equal treatment, I’ll be initiating our cuddle session tonight.’

“Hahaha…nice imagination Patty but that’s my job.”

Somehow fighting between the siblings still persist but you’d take that over the stalemate you two had before

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the night

lilac, chapter eleven

a/n: just know that my cat stayed glued to my right thigh the entire time I wrote this (even though it wasn't in one sitting, every time she'd be like a moth to a flame. I mean, not that she's not like that all of the time, she is, but it was just especially prevalent throughout this chapter. always the right thigh during this chapter...) so, yeah, I hope that feeling somehow comes across

summary: "what happened? I mean–, I know what happened, but wh-what happened?"

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, cuddling, reading

word count: 1648

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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masterlist | join my taglist

Snapping awake with a painful gasp, you shot straight up and the surprising plushness of the mattress below you dipped and bowed at the movement.

The chair that was usually placed in the corner of your room had been scooted closer to the bed and in it, watching over you like a guard dog, sat Frank. As soon as you sprang to life, so did he, rushing out of his seat and closing the distance to your panicked frame. 

Kneeling on the floor beside you, his wide hands instinctively inched closer in a comforting touch, “hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re okay,” although his caress never met your form as they stayed suspended in the air, weary that some man putting his hands on you the very second you woke up properly wasn’t what you needed. 

The initial hyperventilating breaths your lungs had sucked in began to calm as your frantic gaze trained on him and you hoarsely uttered, “Frank?”

Staring back at you, a faint smile twitched at his sombre expression as he exhaled, “yeah.”

Grounding yourself in his coffee gaze, you felt your tense frame begin to thaw as you found yourself melting into his arms, “oh, Frank…” as he enveloped you in his hold, your neck craned to rest your chin upon his broad shoulder, but as you tried to slot into that instinctive embrace, your throat pressed up against him and caused you to jerk back slightly in pain, “ow, fuck…” your brows trembly knitted together as your fingers reached up to ghost over the tender lavender bruise, “…Frank, what–…” but before you could inquire any further, you awoke entirely and recalled just why it hurt so much to speak, “oh god…” averting your gaze, you noticed the wide rectangular bandages that clung to your palms as well as your left elbow, “oh god.” 

“You’re okay,” you watched him place his hand just above one of your sore knees hidden by the duvet, his thumb swiping in a comforting caress, “doctor Díaz made a house call earlier and she said that your injuries are mostly just superficial.”

Forcing a deep breath, you let your eyes drift around the room. The sheer curtains drifted slightly in the calm wind that seeped through the cracked open window, the night sky being softened by the dancing fabric.

“What time is it?” you whispered, although that volume still managed to sting your sore throat.  

“A little past three.”

Turning to look at his kneeling figure, you hesitantly asked, “what happened? I mean–, I know what happened, but wh-what happened? I-is, Preston–”

“Nowhere near here,” he assured you, “how much do you remember?”

Taking a second to ponder, you then uttered, “everything up till you came and then I remember ringing the bell to try and get Otto’s attention,” revisiting the memories brought fresh tears to your eyes, “but not anything else after that… did he hear it? Did he come?”

“Yeah, he did. Took him into custody, but unfortunately, Nilsen didn’t have enough to do any more than put him on a 24-hour hold. So, I took care of it.”

Scarily breathing at all, you couldn’t help but fear the worst in his vague words, “…what do you mean you took care of it? Frank, what did you–… he isn’t–… is he alive?”

Sucking in a controlled breath, his jaw tensely clenched a moment before he answered, “he is… although I’d personally sleep much better at night if he wasn’t, he is. Sheriff Nilsen wasn’t able to do a lot, if anything in this situation, so I made a call to someone I know who can.”

“Who?”

“Someone at homeland who owes me a favour. She should be down here in the morning. I don’t know exactly how much she’ll be able to do, but at the very least she’ll be able to get you one hell of a restraining order, get some eyes on him to make sure he doesn’t try anything again.” 

As you didn’t say anything, simply stared down at your striped duvet, completely stunned, his voice quietly filled the room once more.

“I–…” uncertainty tainted his tone as he tried to read your expression, “it’s your choice what you wanna do. Whatever you want, if you want me by your side, I’ll be there. I just wanted to do something, try and respect your wishes, and if I did the wrong fucking thing, then I’m sorry, but that asshole fuckin–”

“Thank you,” your whisper cut off his desperate words. Eyes fluttering up to meet his, your hand found the top of his, softening it as his gruff knuckles had turned white from how he was clenching the blanket, “I–… I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

With a soft shake of his head, Frank uttered, “you don’t have to thank me, really.”

Wobbly bottom lip and tears welling up in your weary eyes once more, you leaned forward and buried your head in his chest, his palms swiftly finding your back in soothing patterns as you trembled, letting it all unravel just a tad at the newfound relief.

Soft sobbing swiftly turned into weeping, and as more and more of your tears stained the cotton of his shirt, you heard yourself muttering wistfully, “I can’t believe you’re here…” 

“I am,” his hand gently ran up and down your trembling spine, “is that alright?”

Nodding against his chest, you thought back as you cried, “you came. You found me just in time.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he let out a low sigh, “as long as you’ll want me to, I’ll always find you.”

It seemed an impossible task to fall back asleep and face the potential nightmares that would no doubt plague you, so instead, to make the dark night gently pass, you found yourself curled against Frank’s chest as he had joined you against the headboard. One of his hands permanently clasped in yours, the other held up a nostalgic book from your childhood, rediscovered upon the shelf in the corner that still carried all of the old tales that you were brought up on.

Laying there, tangled together, your gaze rested on the view of the slowly rising sun outside as you listened to Frank’s quiet reciting. But as your vision soon shifted and glided across the ceiling, a thought suddenly struck you.

“Y/n?” Frank gently cut through your haze after a few moments of silence, waiting for you to turn the page as you had done for him since you took one of his hands captive. 

“Sorry,” you softly shook your head, blushing slightly as you shared, “it just occurred to me that you’ve never been in my room before now…” 

“That’s true,” he murmured softly.

“It just feels a little weird…” your gaze flickered to the worn teddy bear that now simply decorating the top of your dresser, “like you can see into my brain…”

Breathing out a smile, he lowered the open book to be even closer to your reach, “you mind turning the page?”

Mirroring his content expressions, you reached up to flip over to the next part of the story, but just as you did, a gentle knock echoed at your door.

“Just a second!” you called, winching slightly as the higher volume stung like sandpaper scraping out of your throat. Letting Frank’s hand go, you scooted back a bit as you separated, waiting till he was situated back in the armchair before you said, “come in.”

Creaking open the door, you watched as your father gingerly stepped inside, his gaze locked upon the steaming tray balanced in his hands. 

“Alright, potato leek soup and ginger tea with honey,” he sat it down on your bedside table, “careful it’s hot.”

Sucking in a deep breath as the aromatics began to fill the room, you looked up at him and offered an exhausted smile, “thanks, dad.”

Sighing lowly, you could tell he was trying to stay stoic as his empathetic gaze washed over you, his head lightly cocking to his side as he asked, “are you okay, pumpkin? Is there anything else I can do for you? Do you have enough pillows?”

“Yeah, I have enough pillows,” a slight chuckle managed to roll off your tongue, “although now that you mention it,” you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I was actually thinking about lying low for a little while, just until all the bruises and stuff aren’t as noticeable anymore. I just don’t think I can deal with all of the questions and comments right now.”

“Well,” the moustachioed man’s eyes narrowed in thought, “there aren’t any guests staying on the entirety of the second floor, so if you want to, you can just bunk out up there. We could set up a sign in the stairwell or something saying that there is construction going on, which wouldn’t be a lie, but nevertheless, would ensure that no one bothers you.”

“Oh, I-I could,” your eyes flicked to Frank’s for a moment in hopes it would grant you the strength needed to share, “but I was actually planning on going to stay at Pete’s for a little while. You know, his cabin is so secluded and–“

“Oh, right, of course,” your father chuckled, giving his noggin a light tap as if that should have somehow been his first guess, “sorry, I guess I just didn’t wanna assume that after all of that, you wanted to go hang out with your guy, if anyone–”

“My what?” you chuckled, eyes growing wide, though the dumbfounded laugh faded as you took in the nonchalant expression plastered upon your dad’s face, “wait…” your brows knit together, “you know?”

“What?” the weathered man simply stood there, nearly resembling a child as he shrugged, “was it supposed to be a secret?”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mtchee]

[IMAGINE] Living with Cat! Nanami | GN

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, cat! jjk au, non sorcerer au, cat nanamin, kitty kento, fluff

[1.6k]

| masterlist | jujutsu kaisen collection |

Imagine living with cat! Nanami Kento, who you officially adopted from your cafe manager who was moving abroad and couldn't take proper care of him anymore.

He's an elegant feline; short blond fur and gorgeous whiskey irises. He's quite tall when you stretch him out, and you can see lithe muscles outlined on his shoulders when he walks. He adorns a unique collar, being in the form of a navy button shirt collar cut off with an appropriately cat-sized leopard print necktie. You've had his name iron pressed onto the back of the tie, alongside your initials and phone number in case he ever gets lost.

Nanami is evidently a very strong cat--you've witnessed him battle off a doberman when you were helping your manager move her boxes to the front of her apartment complex when the dog ran at you.

There was an off leash park around the corner of the block, and it must've escaped, telling by the alarmed shouts for the canine to yield from afar.

You had shrieked and turned your back defensively to the snapping jaws of the dog, only for a familiar blond feline to leap to your defence.

Not a single hiss escaped him while he swiped at the attacking animal, though a warning growl rumbled in his throat when the dog tried biting at him again.

By the time the owner reached your shaken form, the doberman had its ears pinned and was hunched submissively in fear under the stern eye of cat! Nanami.

Imagine living with cat! Nanami Kento who, despite his obvious strength, is very pliant with you.

He's very quiet, and a very mature cat despite his youth. He doesn't play much, though it seems he'll indulge you every once in a while when you sway a colourful feathered tassle over his head.

Your manager had informed you he doesn't like much physical contact. Aside from the occasional pet, he didn't let her near. So imagine your silent confusion when he brushes up against your calf one morning in greeting before jumping up onto his favourite spot in the window sill to sunbathe.

And then again a gentle nudge of his head in thanks when you serve him his food for breakfast.

You've been hesitant to touch him, having been warned about his aversion to physical affection, and unsure of his temperment.

Safe to say you were shocked when he curled up next to you on the couch while you had a book in your lap, settling himself so he was pressed comfortably against your thigh. You had froze and refused to move an inch in fear of disturbing him.

Imagine living with cat! Nanami Kento, who is much more tolerant of you than others. Nanami is a patient feline.

He senses someone at the door and alerts you with a sounding "meow" before they can even knock.

When you have company over, he usually sits himself in the same room as you and lounges around adjecent to where you are. He likes to keep an eye on things, you've noticed. When you have more rowdy company over, like your little cousins and such, he does tend to hide himself away, or at least keep himself poised where they can't reach.

He doesn't allow strangers to pet him, and he doesn't quite care for getting to know other humans. If any friends of yours drop around regularly, the most they'll get out of him is a brief pet or two while he saunters away from the door and back to his watching spot.

With you, however, he allows himself to melt in your affection. Where with others he is stiff and indifferent, with you he purrs lowly while slumping, forcing you to accommodate your hold on a liquidised cat.

He pretends he doesn't care for your touch, staring through you with hardened features. But the way he lets you pick him up and cuddle him says otherwise.

Imagine just how protective cat! Nanami is over you.

Oddly enough, he likes to accompany you when you drag yourself out of your room for a walk outside. The first few times he tried to follow you out though, you thought he was just seeing you off at the door.

He had looked very disgruntled when you ushered him back inside, and he had stared you down through the window when you walked passed again. When you returned, he hadn't moved an inch.

He walks by your side on the footpath, occasionally leaping onto window sills and benches when the path gets a bit too crowded.

He'd glower at anyone that would shoulder check you, and he'd spook off any animals that posed any sort of danger to you in their approach.

Imagine cat! Nanami giving you a concerned meow whenever you injure yourself. Whether you stub your toe on the corner of your bed, bump your calf into the sharp corner of the coffee table, or hit your head on the bathroom cabinet door--you'll hear him soon after, as though asking, "are you alright?"

If it really affects you, and you're slouched onto the ground rubbing your head with pursed lips, he'll give you a once over, even jumping up on the counter or leaning on your shoulder to get a good look at where you got hurt.

You can feel his little nose puffing air onto your head as he inspects you, and he might give you reassuring lick depending on if he sees any buising or whatnot.

Imagine how cat! Nanami reminds you to take your daily meds and/or vitamins if you need them. He keeps you on a strict schedule, and he gets grumpy if you ignore him and put it off.

Imagine cat! Nanami consoling you when you're stressed. Whether it be from work, or school--when you're sitting on the couch and staring blankly into the wall, or crying into your hands, curled up on your bed, he'll approach you with tentative steps, and trill softly to announce his presence.

Sometimes you might ignore him, either having not heard or just not able to pull yourself together enough to acknowledge him, and sometimes you reach out and pull him into a tight hug.

Whichever happens, usually he'll prod over to you and observe how you're feeling before giving you a nudge with his wet nose. After getting your attention, he'll willingly place himself in your space, purring softly. His presence is quiet, but comforting and unwavering. There, he'll stay with you until you feel ready to pick yourself back up again.

Imagine living with cat! Nanami Kento, the purrfect gentleman.

If you happen to be changing in the room, he turns away respectfully--which you found odd for a cat, but sweet nonetheless.

If you ever ponder aloud something that you've misplaced, more often than not he'll appear soon after with said item, otherwise he'll patiently call for your attention and lead you to it.

Whenever you do go on walks, if you stop for a break he'll often wander off (though never too far) and return with a few flowers in his maw. He'll place them in your lap or in your hands when you bend down to retrieve them, and he looks awfully accomplished when you coo at him in thanks.

Imagine going back and forth with cat! Nanami when he scolds you one day on your sodium intake. He can't really scold you, but the way he stares at you and grumbles says otherwise.

He'd taken to raiding your pantry and hiding all of your instant ramen so you actually have to make yourself dinner.

When you pick up your phone to order takeout, you shout when he suddenly knocks it out of your hand and takes off with it. He's gone before you can even blink, and by the time you chase him through your home and catch him, he's already got it hidden.

And while you berate him for his antics, you can't help but feel a little more frustrated at the subtly smug look in his kitty eyes.

Imagine living with cat! Nanami Kento, and annoying him to your hearts content. While he relaxes on the backrest of the couch, you'll sneak up and pull him into your chest, nuzzling your face into his fur aggressively.

When you're doing your skincare routine, you like to keep him on the tip of his kitty paws by flicking water at him while he sits patiently by the sink. You snicker when he stills, his eyes slipped shut while his tail jerks to the side in irritation.

During the day when you're particularly bored, you'll walk past him while he's perched comfortably in his favourite spot to sunbathe and flip his tie over his head. You'll skitter away with a laugh while he deadpans and growls an empty threat.

At night, when you just can't fall asleep and cat! Nanami slumbers beside you peacefully, you decide to pin down his tail with the weight of your hand. He remains unperturbed, but when you lift your hand he flicks the appendage away swiftly. You giggle, and do it again.

By the forth time, he gets up, thoroughly roused from his once peaceful sleep, and retaliates by laying himself across your face like an eye mask.

He'll indulge in a little play fight with you, batting away your hands with his claws sheathed, sometimes forcing the breath out of you by rolling down onto your chest, to tire you out.

Then, having been entertained, you hum with a dreamy sigh, shifting to lay on your side and getting comfy under the covers while cat! Nanami lets you guide him to cosy up by your chest, cuddling him like a teddy bear.

[sulfurz]

ೃ༄ CONSCIENCES EDGE (randy orton x fem!reader, ft. edge)

ೃ༄ PAIRING: randy orton x fem! reader, brief edge x fem!reader (just flirting)

ೃ༄ REQUESTED BY: anon

hi! can i request randy orton x fem!reader when they are dating and in a tag team match but against each other. and randy’s opponent keeps flirting with (y/n) in front of him to gets him mad. please :)

ೃ༄ WARNINGS: possessive!randy, slightly suggestive, edge being a taunt

ೃ༄ WORD COUNT: 1.4k

ೃ༄ NOTE: anon i really hope this is at least somewhat what you wanted because i had SO much fun with this request eek (as you can tell by how fast i wrote it). pls excuse the self indulgence that is: me adding adam as y/n’s partner but truthfully i would love to be in a sandwich between randy and adam so it just felt right (title pun is 110% intended)

the wwe universe knew two things for certain about randy orton:

1. he was an absolute monster in the ring.

2. he adored you.

when the two of you first debuted your relationship, he made the latter very clear, never missing an opportunity to have his hands on you — whether this be on your waist, his fingers in yours, or the possessive hold when he stood with his fingers dancing over your ass. randy orton did not share his women, and you were no exception.

so when the storyline called for you to turn on him, the wwe universe went up in flames. whilst some were undoubtedly unsure on how said story would unfold, most were exhilarated by how you came out night after night to sabotage the man you once loved front stage and centre. you were one of the greatest heels most fans had seen, and despite your villainous position, they loved you all the more for it.

of course, they never knew what went on backstage. how after you taunted the man in the ring, you’d fall straight back into his arms in a hotel bed that you wouldn’t leave until the morning.

it was when the story called for teaming up that people really lost their minds. a series of backstage segments that followed randy as he sought out someone to finally take you down. he settled on none other than than trish stratus in all of her powerful glory — your current competitor for the title, and that was when all hell broke loose. in a title match against trish, just as you began readying up for your finisher, randy ran in to prevent trish from losing her title, and solidifying themselves as the team which you would go up against.

then it was your turn to shine, a setup for how you’d end up here. trish and randy had promised a battle, and you were going to give them one in what the crowd believed would be a handicap match. you, and the writers, had other plans.

all three of you had taken the stage, ready to fight it out for the greatest prize of all, bragging rights, when the lights went dark once more. a known, and feared you think you know me? echoing through the dark arena. the crowd could clearly see randy’s face, the expression of shock as his former tag team partner turned enemy entered the arena and came to stand by your side — then the stage was set.

unbeknownst to your competitors, you and edge had an agreement. you’d follow the choreography, stick to the plan, except it was always fun to rile your out of ring boyfriend up, and who better to take the lead than the rated r superstar himself?

as the match started, you and trish taking first turn, you wasted no time in flooring trish, watching as she sold it to the crowd whilst you waltzed back to where edge stood at ring side. he didn’t touch you to avoid tagging himself in, but his intent was evident as he leant over the top rope, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip.

“i’d let you do that to me any day, sweetheart.”

from the other side of the ring, over the roar of the crowd you could hear the faint growl of your boyfriend, followed by movement as he stalked closer to observe the interaction.

trish recovered quickly, and the two of you returned to going back and forth for several minutes until she unleashed her cat fight move on you, and it was your turn to sell. if you glanced behind you from where you lay on the floor, you could see the watchful eyes of randy darting between your pained position on the floor, and your tag partner who was positioned in a crouch, undoubtedly showing randy he was staring at your ass.

when you dragged yourself to the side, eye to eye with a curled over edge, you were hyper aware of how randy watched intensely.

edge grinned, a knowing look in his eye as he made sure randy heard every word. “you look good when you’re all worked up.���

you smirked, unable to hide your own amusement at the snarl you heard from your right, before outstretching your hand to allow edge to tag himself in.

carefully, you rolled under the bottom rope, trish doing the same. but before your feet had even landed on the floor, randy had dragged edge into the ring and delivered a harder than necessary back elbow to the man’s chest. you winced for the sake of the show, but couldn’t deny the way your heart swelled seeing your boyfriend so agitated over you.

once again; randy orton did not share his women, and this was no different.

the two men put on a good show, wrestling back and forth with a series of high rope moves from both that most wrestlers wouldn’t dare perform. as scripted, edge managed to get randy with a spear before the latter kicked out of an undeniably dirty pin, but it just gave the man the perfect opportunity.

he tagged you in slyly, reaching for your hand but instead making sure he bypassed at the last second and made the contact via running his hand down the side of your waist and to your ass. the crowd roared as you and trish took your places again, but the look on randy’s face as he was pushed out of the ring by his own partner was immortalised in your brain forever.

it was a look that said everything: you’re mine.

when the battle began again, you were hyper aware of the weakened shouts from an (acting) injured edge, showering you with compliments that had you pretending to preen until suddenly they all stopped. you glanced to your side to see the cause of the silence, being greeted by the unplanned side of randy having edge pressed against the ropes, hands on the man’s shoulders until edge was forced to flip back into the ring.

the commotion was enough to distract you so that trish could execute a clothes line, knocking you to the ground as she tagged randy back in to continue whatever shallow beat out he was doing on your partner.

edge was well and truly down by now, and you made your attempt to exit the ring and let him fend for himself when a firm hand wrapped around your wrist.

instead of being met by your partners tag, you were pulled into the strong chest of randy himself, the man wasting no time before crashing your lips together. unplanned, but welcomed, you couldn’t help but kiss back just as forcefully, not caring that the cameras were catching every moment of the heated make out session right in the middle of the ring.

one of randy’s hands slipped down to exactly where edge’s had been, giving your ass a firm squeeze to elicit a gasp that let him deepen the kiss. it was filthy, and borderline offensive to the tv rules, but when randy pulled back and you saw the fire in his eyes, you were about ready to jump him right there.

one last bite to your shoulder and randy was moving again, stalking towards where edge lay writhing near the corner of the ring. he moved him just enough to pin him without a rope break, and when edge was unable to kick out, randy and trish solidified their dinner status. but, instead of moving to celebrate with his partner, randy walked straight back to your side.

his lips were back on yours again, this time pulling your teeth between his bottom lip in a show that would surely have you pulled into the office post match. you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not as one of his hands gripped at your waist, the other holding your head by the back of the neck so you couldn’t escape the kiss even if you wanted to.

not that you wanted to.

when he finally broke away, eyes ablaze as the crowd lost their minds, you could see the redness in his face from the possessiveness.

he looked like he wanted to eat you alive, and you welcomed every thought of it.

“you’re mine.” he punctuated his words with a kiss to the side of your mouth, open mouthed and dirty as could be. “only mine.”

“i know.” you whispered, enjoying the sensation of randy’s lips travelling down your neck. he didn’t care for rules in that moment as he latched his lips to the crook of your neck, a gasp leaving your own mouth before you could stop it. you raised a weak hand to the back of his neck as your knees buckled under the very public attention “only yours.”

3. above every woman in the world, randy orton had never, and would never share you.

details on how to request on my page

[alice-angel12x]

Death is always around the corner

Riddle + Death!Reader

This Death is greatly inspired by the wolf death from Puss In Boots, and Jenny-Jinya kind death. (some headcanons for some of the characters) Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Let's set the Scene: Masterlist

Something was off about this Mirror ceremony, Crowley could feel it. But decided to shack it off and continue with the ceremony.

"Ah, my lovely Lord, The noble and beautiful flower of evil, You are the most beautiful, number one in this world. Follow thy heart and take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror. Flames that turn even stars into ashes, Ice that imprisons even time, Great tree that swallows even the sky, Don’t be afraid of the power of darkness, Come now, show your power. Mine, theirs, and yours, There’s only a little time left for us. Do not let go of that hand, at all costs," Crowley chanted as a green flame appeared in the mirror.

As the night continued, all the new students were neatly sorted into dorms. There was just one coffin left, and just as he was about to insert the key to unlock the coffin. The coffin began to thrash and shack, as puffs of blue fire spewed out from the creaks in the coffin. The headmaster quickly stepped away from the coffin when the lid suddenly blasts off its hinges in a blaze of fire.

From the coffin, a grey cat creature with blue fire ears skitted across the ground. The crowd of students stared in confusion till something caught their attention. An eerie whistle could be heard from the smoking coffin. Out from the smoke steeped a mysterious figure. A figure dressed in the school's ceremonial robes stepped out into the chamber. They stood unnaturally still as the hood of their robe completely obscured their face as they continued to eerily whistle.

"U-Um, excuse me young...Um... You could have waited a few seconds longer till I opened the gate. Anyways please present yourself to the dark mirror," Crowley stuttered as he hurried the stranger.

The mirror awakened to look at the figure, and only stared in... fear?

"Ugh, I can smell... a disgusting amount of blot," The figure spat.

💗Riddle Roseheart💗

Riddle didn't really know what to think of this strange student. He never got a good look at them at the ceremony. The only thing they could tell was that they were a wolf beastman of sorts.

And his only other source of info was word of mouth around the school. And hearing that they were a part of the chandelier incident. Riddle already doesn't like them.

luckily he had the fortune to see this mysterious. Upon seeing this student, they looked strange, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was cause of how they just stared unblinkingly at him. With an ominous smile on their face.

When Riddle tried to scold the first-year group for all the trouble they have caused. Yet the student who went by Y/n, simply smiled, unfazed by his words.

This greatly annoyed him and he pulled out his magic pen, but in a blink of an eye, Y/n swiped it out of his grasp. He stood in shock as Y/n chuckled and took a sip of their drink.

Freaked out, Riddle decided to just leave. Yet for a week he felt watched, and whistling followed him no matter where he went. And Y/n's silhouette is always just on the edge of his sight.

One late night, Riddle had to drop off small books at the library, when the whistle filled his ears.

"Are you stalking me?" Riddle glared, as he turned to see Y/n resting against a pillar.

"Just observing. It's been a long while since I got a good look at the Roseheart family. And it's a shame to see how far they have fallen," They growled.

"How Dare You! Off with-'' before riddle could even finish his spell. Y/n swiped the pen from the boy's hand. And then quickly pinned him to the wall.

Riddles's heart started to beat insanely fast as he stared into Y/n's blood-red irises.

"Listen very closely, your life is crashing toward a terrible end if you don't change your tune," Y/n growled softly into Riddle's ear.

Riddle shut his eyes tight waiting for the next attack, but nothing came. As he slowly opened his eyes, he gasped when he found himself in his room.

When morning came, riddle ran to the library to apologize for losing the books. To only learn that Y/n had returned them for him.

Assuming it must have just been a dream, he didn't take Y/n's warning seriously. As blot continued to accumulate. Unaware of Y/n watching from a window across the courtyard, as they polish their sythe, with sad eyes.

They watched as Ace fail to properly apologize to Riddle's liking, and quickly banished the 1st years from the dorm. Which lead to this conflict.

As Y/n stood before Riddle and his overblot as he rampaged across the garden. Reading their weapons, preparing to claim Riddle's life before the blot does.

Suddenly, Aduece, Grim, Cater, and Trey stepped forward wanting to save Riddle. Y/n smiled softly as they dashed toward the blot creature to Find Riddle's soul.

_____________________________________________________

As Riddle slowly came to his dream of memories, he found himself sitting at a party table floating in the darkness. In front of him was a book with his name as the title, and the silhouette of his profile was on the cover.

"Not a good start to life huh," said a voice, causing Riddle to gasp and look up at the source. at the other end of the table was Y/n, dressed in black silk robes. "Strict mother molding you, all the while claiming it is for your own good."

"S-she didn't want me to be a failure like father. He was lazy and couldn't handle the work of a doctor," Riddle said.

"Did your mother tell you that?" Y/n asked as Riddle nodded. '' Then you might want to read this.''

Y/n slid a tray over to Riddle, on it was a book that read Mira Rosehearts, his Mothers name. Riddle looked back to Y/n for an explanation. "Everything your mother had said, done, thought, felt, and heard is documented in this. I recommend reading pages 9131 to 9134."

Riddle quickly read through said pages but slammed it down in anger and disbelief. It read how Riddle's father began to outshine Mira, and when people started to praise him more than her. She divorced and made sure she had full custody of Her son. She vowed to mold him and make him the perfect Roseheart, to outshine everyone else, no matter the cost.

"That is not my mother! You're trying to trick me! Who do you think you are?!" Riddle growled as he stood up from his chair.

"I Have a Beginning, But No End, and I End All Things That Begin. Who Am I?” Y/n asked simply.

"What is this rubbish, the answer is... The answer is," Riddle said slowly as his eyes widened in horror.

"I am Death, straight up," Y/n said as their eyes glowed, causing the boy to fall back into his seat.

"S-so I'm dead?" Riddle asked slowly.

"No, you escape me this time. You are very lucky that some people came to your rescue. Or else you would have died here today," Y/n said as they flipped riddle's book all the way to the back. On the inside of the back cover was a "wanted" Poster.

In bold words on top was Wanted, with Riddle's face printed in the middle. And Dead or Alive is printed at the bottom.

" I would have had you sign, right here,” Y/n said as they tapped over the word Dead. Causing Riddle to gulp nervesly.

"But You attend our school, have I truly escaped you?"Riddle asked nervously.

"Just because I am Death, doesn't mean I enjoy everything it entails. I do not enjoy having to separate families and loved ones. It's just a job that needs to be done," Y/n explained. " And I came here to collect an arrogant little boy, who thinks himself as law and order incarnate. But I can't seem to find him anymore.

Riddle watched as Y/n collected the books and turned to leave, as a door of light appeared.

"You were given a second chance Riddle. Live your life your way for yourself, not how your mother wants you to," Death Y/n said as they stepped through the door.

Riddle finally came too, much to everyone's relief. When everything was set and done. Riddle apologized to everyone and promised to improve on his behavior.

Yet as the days went by, Riddle noticed that Y/n for the most part vanished. He would see them around every once and a while, even Ace, Deuce, and Grim don't seem to hang out with them much.

Grim already spilled the beans on Y/n's identity, and of course, most kept their distance. For who would want death hanging around them.

One day at the reunbirthday party. As All of Riddle's new and old friends gather around his table. Enjoying tea and baked goods, the young dorm leader noticed a lone figure at a table.

Y/n sat alone at one table at the very back of the party, even the tables next to them were empty. As everyone wasn't really comfortable being near them.

Riddle watched sadly as Y/n sat with no snacks, tea, or even company to enjoy. So with a wave of his pen, Riddle levitated a fresh teapot with cups and a large tray of baked goods. As he proceeded to pull out a chair himself at Y/n's table.

Much to everyone's surprise and slight fear. Even Y/n was surprised by Riddle, but they smiled softly as the two began to chat and enjoy the unbirthday party.

But sadly their job here at NRC isn't over yet.

[myloveobbsessed]

ᗪ乇爪ㄖ刀 丂ㄥ卂丫乇尺 匚卂ㄒ丂

———••———————••———————••———

Genre: fluff

Warnings: slight assault in Akaza’s (though nothing really happens)

Characters: Muzan, Douma, Kokushibo, and Akaza

Notes: none

———••———————••———————••———

Part 3, 2, 1

———••———————••———————••———

Muzan is a…

Bombay: Late at night, you walked into the kitchen, craving a glass of water. After pouring yourself a drink, you took a sip, but nearly dropped the glass when you saw glowing eyes staring back at you from outside the sliding door. Your heart skipped a beat as you froze, eyes locked with the intense, unblinking gaze of the cat.

With a sigh, you turned on the patio light, Muzan’s piercing eyes never left yours, as he stood at the door, almost as if demanding to be let in. You both stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, neither of you moving. Finally, with a resigned sigh, you walked over and opened the door.

Muzan strode inside, his steps confident and controlled, like he’d lived there all along.

——••————••——

Kokushibo is a…

Korat: You walked into the animal shelter, fully aware that you didn’t need another cat, but the allure of their cuteness was hard to resist. As you browsed the various cats, you inquired at the front counter about any cats scheduled for euthanasia. They brought one out for you to meet.

Kokushibo stared back at you, and the two of you shared a brief staring contest. A smile crept onto your face as you reached out to pet his head. He allowed the touch but made no move to lean into it. The staff member mentioned he was a quiet one, not very active, but you felt a connection and happily decided to take him home.

——••————••——

Douma is a…

Syphnx: He followed you home (sry don't really have one for him)

——••————••——

Akaza is a…

Japanese Bobtail: While on a late-night walk, a man approached you, initially friendly but quickly growing hostile when you showed no interest. His anger escalated, and just as he was about to grab you, a blur of motion shot past your face, followed by a scream. You looked down to see a fierce cat standing protectively in front of you, hissing and swiping at the man. The cat lunged at him again, scratching his face until the man fled in fear.

Relieved, you crouched down and gently pet the cat, who accepted your touch, calming down after defending you. Grateful for his bravery, you decided to take Akaza home with you.

———••———————••———————••———

I wanted to share some art that inspired me to write these (this art isn't mine I got it from pinterst)

[fortunekookie07]

Before you start reading this one, I'd just like you to know that Chryssikyu is 100% responsible for this one. All it took was one thought and I had to write something. Also I'm not capable of writing smut, it's beyond my capabilities. This is as far as I can go. So sorry. Without further ado I present to you

Call Me

You huff looking down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time that day. Rafayel has once again ignored your phone calls. Answered text messages? Keep dreaming!

This is the same man who got super pissy and dramatic when you didn't answer his call right away. It was always something like, "I guess I'm not important enough for you to take my calls." Or something of the like. Yet somehow, you managed to find his dramatic pouty self adorable.

Today, though? Not so much, you were sorely tempted to let a cat lose in his studio for not taking your calls all afternoon. He'd know it was you, though. You were the only one he'd admitted to of his extreme dislike (read fear) of the furry creature. Revenge would be had. Thus, you just didn't have the heart.

After another hour and still no response, you decided to pay him a visit. So you take the twenty minute trip over to his private art studio/home.

Walking up the path, you see nothing out of the ordinary, the same plants and pathway as always. Just as you reach the door, you hear music. You pause, Rafayel certainly liked music. He'd recommend some artists to you before. It's just that he'd never played any in his studio before. It was usually quiet. That was how he preferred it.

Hesitantly, you turn the knob slowly and carefully so as not to make a sound. Thank god Rafayel had regular maintenance done on his doors. They never squeaked or creaked. He detested that sound.

You remove your shoes and leave them in the doorway. Something just telling you not to make any sounds. Carefully searching the downstairs studio reveals that he's not here, but the further you venture in the louder, the music is.

You realize you hear two voices, one coming from a female and the other, definitely male. You freeze, oh my god, is Rafayel singing?!? The male voice is amazing. You've never heard anything like it, so you keep going almost as if his voice is luring you in.

At the top of the stairs, the living room is situated, a wide space. Rafayel had personally designed the room, and it reflected him greatly. The huge wall to the back was his own painting of the sea. One of his greatest works. Sadly, not many would ever see it. He rarely had company over, and even fewer of them were invited up to his living quarters upstairs. You were one of two people to be given that privilege.

This wasn't the most amazing thing, though. There, in front of the large sofa, was Rafayel singing and dancing using his paintbrush as a microphone. He was completely oblivious to your presence.

You quickly took out your phone and snapped a few photos before recording. The song ended then, and he turned around, seeing you holding your phone and trying not to laugh.

His ears instantly went red as a scarlet blush bloomed across his face. "How long have you been standing there? It's rude not to announce your presence." He partially covered his face, his eyes darting away. Then he saw that you were holding your phone camera pointed at him. "Are, are you recoding me?!?!?" He asked Incredulously his blush, deepening as he made to grab your phone.

"Delete it!" He swiped for the sleek device, but you managed to dodge his frantic hands. "Nope! This is all mine now. " You wagged the phone in his face before stuffing it down your shirt. Rafayel would never be so bold to get it now. You poked his cheeks, and he swiped at you again.

"Do that again, and I'll spit bubbles at you." He said, rubbing his face and trying to hide his red face. "What have you been doing? I've been trying to call you all day." You put your hands on your hips and raise a brow.

"I was trying to get inspiration and then decided to listen to some music. You know the rest." He crossed his arms and turned away from you in a humph motion. Still embaressed at having been caught.

When you asked what song and he gave the title, you frowned. "That song is like twenty years old. Why are you listening to that?" You'd heard the song before, just not in a long time. "It came in the station I was listening to." He defended.

"Next time, don't ignore my calls. Did you forget you wanted me to go with you to buy supplies for your painting?" Rafayel's face brightened, and his eyes were almost twinkling. You thought you had him until realization hit him.

"Hand over your phone first. You took pictures. If they aren't perfect, I'll delete them." He held his hand out expectantly.

"Nope! These are all mine." You grinned at the pout on his face, certain he would not venture to get it. You were about to find out how wrong you were

He reached towards you going for your shirt. Swatting his hands away, you "No touchy!" He only grinned in response. "Oh, I'm going to touch alright." The wicked glint in his eyes sent your heart racing. "Rafayel!" You say in warning backing up. The only escape is the stairs behind you.

You turn to dash down them to another room below. We'll that was your intention anyways. Right behind you is that blue fish. You stop short. That was all the time he needed. His arms snake around, you pulling you into his firm chest and holding you tight.

One of his hands plays with the bottom of your shirt, his fingers tapping your bare stomach underneath. His head burries into your shoulder, and he whispers your name against the bare skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. A groan escapes your lips.

"I've got you now." He says, and you feel his grin before he is kissing your neck and making you squirm. You through your head back and sigh, leaving your mouth at his attention. His fingers are drawing patterns lightly on your stomach, and shivers shoot down your spine.

"This will end if you give me the phone." His voice is low and husky against your neck. "No-o." Your rebuttal is more of a moan at this point. Your brain is hazy as Rafayel starts on your buttons. The first one comes open with a pop, and his fingers are quick to trace more patterns on your stomach.

"Are you going to give me your phone?" He asks, nibbling on your ear. "Ahhhn," is all you manage to get out. The second button is popped, his fingers part your shirt, and the cool air makes you shiver against his heat. "How about now?" You manage to shake your head. The third button is undone. His fingers are just below your bra now. "Rafa...!" Your voice is breathless as he takes the last three buttons in one go.

His seeking fingers quickly pull your shirt open, exposing your chest and the stashed phone. "I'm taking it now." His voice is low and husky as he nips your ear again. His hands slide up your sides slowly. He's definitely teasing you now.

With your mind in a daze, you try to grab your phone, but his nimble fingers are faster. He grabs your wrist and then laces your fingers together. He kisses each of your fingers and the back of your hand before turning your head towards him and pinning you with a piercing stare.

Rafayel's blue-pink eyes are so heated and deep, you're about to fall in. Like you are looking at a quietly raging sea. He slowly leans in, dragging the moment out, and you let out an impatient whine. With your free hand, you wrap it around the back of his neck and draw him in closer. He brings your joined hands down lower, wrapping them around your waist and drawing you closer back. And then finally, finally, his lips press against yours.

You're so lost in his kiss that you don't even notice him delicately drawing your phone out of its hiding place in your bra and slipping it into his pants pocket. He lets go of your arm and then turns you around before hooking his hands around your knees and hoisting you up to his height. Your legs go around his waist, and then he's kissing you again as he walks to his bedroom.

****************************************************

As you lay in the bed with only a thin sheet covering you and Rafayel's arm for a pillow, you finally remember what started all this. "My phone! Rafayel, where is my phone?" He hums not fully paying attention. Just laying beside you with his eyes closed. You pink his arm as you sit up. "You stole my phone!" You can't even be mad at him. You fell for his distraction.

Sitting up, you look around the room for clothes. Spying his black pants, you leap off the bed and dash over to it. Sure enough, your phone is in his pocket. As fast as you can, you email a copy of the video you took and the pictures to yourself before looking at him triumphantly.

He's just sitting up resting an elbow on his knee, supporting his head with his hand, watching you. "Do you want a picture of me so badly?" He asks in a provoking tone. Deciding that you've had enough of his games, you walk over and grab his face with both hands. "I prefer the real thing." You say stealing a kiss before slipping away again.

"I've got to go now, I have a mission. I'll be gone for a few days. Don't forget to call me this time!" You hurriedly dress yourself and turn to leave the bedroom before he's grabbing your arm and pulling you back. "Come straight here when you're done." He says a serious look in his eyes. "I miss you when you're gone." You turn and hug him. "I'm just a phone call away." You kiss him again and then head out the door.

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part seven

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary:  you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of death, drinking, flashbacks/ptsd

Word Count: ~6k 

A/N: we’re starting to pick up a bit now! some time skips

series masterlist 

Seven days in the castle. You enjoyed breakfasts with Aelin and whatever members of her court were around, evenings with Fenrys and co, more chances to interact with Ceri and her friends, free time to try and figure out your damn way around the city, but you were going crazy. Surrounded by people at all times, even if they were kind, exhausted you. 

As much as you tried, there wasn’t a truly private place in this castle. Maybe it was paranoia, but you knew someone could always be watching - there could always be eyes. 

But, there was a pattern. Halle would be on edge if someone was nearby, if there were prying ears, and she only fell into a deep sleep if it was the two of you - or if it seemed private enough. You trusted her judgment. The judgment of a cat. Then again, she wasn’t an ordinary cat. 

She had her own kind of magic. That’s a secret you decided to keep as long as possible. Even if magic was freely accepted here, her kind could easily make her a target. 

For gods sake she was buddies with fleetfoot. Aelin had been worried in the beginning, but her dog bounded right up to Halle. 

Fleetfoot sniffed, tilted her head, and licked Halle’s face. The cat didn’t hiss or swipe, instead headbutting her. 

Aelin gave you an incredulous look. 

“She’s never met a dog.” 

“Fleetfoot usually doesn’t make friends with cats,” Aelin turned back towards the duo, “you’re special Halle.” A small purr, and yellow eyes stared right at her, as if to say; ‘obviously.’ 

Aelin snorted and shook her head, ‘if Fleetfoot’s on her side, nobody should bother her.” 

‘I’d like to see them try,’ the small hiss said. Seemed to say, you corrected yourself. The two of you couldn’t communicate, but it was easy enough to read her expressions. 

One hand holding up your book, she rested in your lap. Rowan was in the room, sitting across from you, just having finished up Ceri’s bedtime story for the day. Another change over the last week, you’d gotten comfortable being in a room alone with them. Not that it had been necessarily uncomfortable in the past, but you shed some of the fear of perception. If people read into it too much, that was on them. You knew your relationship with them, you knew you were only platonic. Those who paid attention would know that too. 

-

 “There’s something .. off about that cat,” Rowan commented. He’d discreetly observed the two of you over the edge of a few reports he brought with him, intending to finish them as he waited for Ceri to fall asleep. There was only one left, and he figured he might as well get it done now. Abraxos’s story was requested again, and he didn’t have anything new to say. Like hell he’d write to Manon and ask. There would be a set of meetings and a ball hosted in Orynth the week after Beltane, and hopefully he could convince her not to ask during that. He didn’t know the witch well enough to tell how she’d react. Maybe she’d find it amusing, as far as he remembers witches were always protective of young ones. The nations of Erilea, and sometimes contingents from other countries, met once every two years, and it was Orynth’s turn to host this year. It would be interesting, convincing you to attend alongside Ceri. 

Yellow eyes peeked up, Halle’s fur standing up, as if she’d heard the insult and taken it personally. 

“Be nice,” you whispered, running your fingers through her fur. The little demon settled instantly, purring on your lap. There was definitely something off about that cat. Almost like it had purposefully found you. Ceri had seemed a bit put out that the cat liked you more than her. But, with your animal form it was to be expected. He’d never tell you this, not yet at least, but there was a small betting pool running for which form your daughter would take. Avian, or feline. 

On their visit to Antica, he’d met some of the baast cats in the library of the Torre Cesme. More he thought about it, he’d never actually seen your animal form. 

“Can you … talk to her?” 

“Obviously,” you grinned, “I just told her to be nice.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes, you knew what he meant. 

“As a cat,” he drawled, raising a brow at you. 

“Why would I spill our secrets to you?” 

“So you can?” He knows cats communicate with each other in some way, Gods know birds do. Not that he’d ever tell Aelin that, she’d be relentless. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I haven’t shifted around her yet.”

“When was the last time you shifted?” 

“Probably too long,” you absentmindedly stroked the little creature. Who looked asleep, but Rowan got the inkling she was faking it. 

Initially, there was a slight fear you’d bring a shifter with you, but he realized quickly you would’ve caught on to that. Above all, he trusted you and your judgment. Rowan trusted you’d never do anything to endanger Ceri, but recognized you’d easily throw yourself into any kind of danger if it meant protecting her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how much you’d sacrificed for her … how much you’d sacrificed for Ceri, and something about it didn’t sit right with him. 

-

Fenrys insisted on a house-warming party. You wanted to call it ridiculous, but you’d never had something like this before, and you gave into his badgering. It didn’t take too much effort on his part, but you let him annoy you about it a bit. That way he’d feel like he accomplished something. 

One month after you moved in, you finally hosted it. 

The party was small, and perfect. Rowan, Aelin, Fenrys, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, who came to surprise Ceri, a friend you’d made, and Ceri’s three closest friends. 

A bit of poking around, a few questions to Aedion, and you learned the three of them were orphans. A piece of your heart shattered. 

Edde and Edie, twins, and their cousin Elias. All Fae, all lived at the castle most of their lives - long enough they didn’t remember anything else. They all wanted to train as warriors, even though they were barely eleven. You and Fenrys, acting like gossiping mothers, had easily figured out why they attached themselves to Ceri. Fae recognize power, and something inside them would’ve drawn them to that wild magic. Ceri was powerful, there was no denying that. Reaching her father’s levels, and maybe passing it one day. Sensing that type of power was right up your alley. 

Fenrys pressed a mug of, you looked down into the cup, catching a drift of the sweet honey - mead, into your hands. You took it with a grateful grin. As much as you loved wine, mead was your favorite. But, it was expensive and sometimes difficult to find. Instead of chugging it, you let yourself savor every drop. 

Ines sidled up next to you as Fenrys walked away. All it took was a drunk night together for you to count her as one of your closest friends. She was in a similar situation to you, a daughter - but her father lived quite a distance away. In Eyllwe. She would spend winters down there, and summers up here. You were excited to meet her. A few years younger than Ceri, but you had an inkling she would take her under her wing. Only time would tell if your daughter was a good or bad influence. 

“You have a beautiful home,” she sighed, swirling her glass in one hand. Halle weaved around your feet, the little kitten had been growing, and fast. She’d been circling the house the entire time, judging all of the new visitors. For some reason, you got the impression she was assessing if they were worthy of being in their presence. A meow. The connection the two of you shared is not something to ponder right now. 

“Yours is just as pretty,” you countered. And it was - an elegant townhouse in the middle of the city. 

She hummed, and emptied her glass, nudging you with her elbow. “So, you and … Fenrys?” She hesitated, forcing herself not to put his title in front of his name. He hated that. 

“Friends,” you nudged her back. “And that's it,” you hoped you emphasized the last word enough. 

“I’m wounded,” the male said, before switching his gaze to Ines. “But yes, we are just friends.” 

Where had he come from? Either way, you were glad he came and backed you up. Otherwise, she may never have believed you.

Rowan, Aelin, and the others were currently being treated to prime entertainment by the four hellions. Probably just for the night, the cousins had shed their shy skin for the night, now re-enacting … some sort of game they played earlier. Evangeline was just as taken with the others as she’d been with Ani, and you watched how they already were latching onto her like an older sister. 

Another small pain in your chest, one another sip of mead washed away for the night. 

Now was as good of a time as any to pull out a little creation you’d been working on. Gods, you’d started this project nearly a year ago, and just now you’d finally gotten it right. 

-

Rowan watched as you quickly slipped out of the room, and debated following you. But, you returned quickly. A type of crystal now in your hand. Round, with a flat bottom, and … no, it was glass, encasing several different kinds of crystals, all carefully arranged to form symbols. And it swirled with magic, practically a beacon to anyone who knew what to look for. Apparently, it attracted his wife because she was at your side within moments, peering down at it curiously. 

“It can only play one long track,” you admitted. 

A track? Music? 

Placing it on a table, he watched as your eyes focused on it, fingers pressing against the glass. Normally you could do these types of things with just a thought, but maybe this one needed touch to work. 

Sure enough, a tune started playing through the room, and caught everyone’s attention. You turned red, the attention flustering you, but you quietly explained what it did. It captures and plays back music. Only one long track, this one about four hours before it would repeat. You’ve only made the one. 

The last statement, your left thumb and forefinger pressed together. One of your tells, you lied. Interesting. Something he could ask about later. Calling you out on bullshit was always amusing to him, as long as it was relatively harmless, of course.

“Took me over a year to get right,” he heard you tell Aelin. 

The music was from Antica - he knew that much. 

Aelin caught his eye, no dancing, he said quickly - anticipating her next question. 

A large sigh and roll of her eyes, but she turned back to you instead. 

-

The party went well, as well as you could’ve predicted. By eight, it began to split up. The three “E’s,” as they’d been nicknamed that night, and Evangeline would spend the night. There was plenty of room, and you liked a full house. 

Rowan, Aelin, and Fenrys stuck around as the others left. Lysandra promised to get your drunk friend home in one piece. Now, you all splayed out on the couches. Fenrys shared one with you, your legs currently thrown over his lap as you stretched out. One hand rested on your shin, and the other propped up behind his head. The portrait of casual arrogance. 

“This was fun,” you commented, stealing a glance at Aelin and Rowan. Their positions nearly mirrored your own, Aelin stretched out like a cat on the other couch, but with Rowan’s hand resting on the inside of her knee. 

“Oh absolutely. We should do it again.” 

“I do not want to move houses anytime soon,” you groaned. 

Fenrys poked you, “not every party has to be a housewarming one.” He caught your ankle as you brought your leg back to try and kick him. “Slow,” he tutted, and you rolled your eyes, accepting the failure. 

It’s true, the alcohol and fatigue was delaying all of your reactions. 

“A question, for you, y/n,” the look in his eyes promised trouble. 

“Oh no.” 

-

“Find anyone to warm your bed this winter?” Fenrys teased. That comment caught Aelin and Rowan’s attention. Rowan was proud you managed to land a kick on him, even if he didn’t react, he fought the urge to glare at Fenrys. “Ines is quite pretty,” he added.  

“It’s none of your business,” you rolled your eyes, “but no, I haven’t, and Ines is just a friend, with no interest in women or females.” Rowan shouldn’t have felt that relieved, the relief flew out the window with what she said next. “I suppose it’s never too late.” 

“That’s more like it,” Fenrys grinned - ignoring Aelin’s frown. He tried very hard to keep his face neutral. 

“I don’t think I’ll get involved with anyone until Ceri’s a bit more grown up. At least seriously.” 

“You’re really going to be single for that long?” Fenrys countered. 

“We’re immortal,” she huffed. “Can we not talk about this?” If Rowan didn’t know better, he’d think you were avoiding looking at the two of them. Actually, looking anywhere but at them. 

“I’m trying to be helpful. You look like you need a good fuck.” 

“Fenrys. Shut. Up,” Aelin looked ready to throw a fiery dagger at him, and he only shrugged. 

“Just pointing out the obvious.” 

Even if a very drunk Aelin, who didn’t remember it the next day, admitted she really liked you, you were off-limits. Painfully off-limits, and not shown a hint of interest in them. He’d settle for - no, it wasn’t settling if there was no interest there on his end. He’d be your friend. Rowan liked being your friend. Friends were good, and friends was safe. The last thing he needed was for this to get messy. 

-

“There’s going to be a ball, around beltane,” Aelin commented casually, carefully watching your reaction. 

“Do we need to go dress shopping for Ceri?” 

“For you and Ceri.” You paled, and she heard your heartbeat quicken. Your mouth parted, before closing again. Of all the things to make you speechless, it was this. “We’d like for both of you to come,” she added gently. 

“Who … who will be there?” 

“Every two years, the countries on Erilea meet for meetings. Sometimes countries too, and there’s always a ball. Music, food, dancing.” 

Your entire arm began to shake. She held on tightly to your hand, felt your palm beginning to sweat. Your eyes glazed, and Aelin began to panic. The door swung open, revealing Rowan. He looked between the two of you, and crossed the room. Slowly, he knelt in front of you, taking your hand, disentangling Aelin’s fingers from yours. He called your name, over and over again. 

“You’re in Terrasen. You’re in Orynth.” 

“What triggered it?” He met Aelin’s eyes, not releasing his grip on your hands. 

“I asked about the ball.” 

Rowan swore lightly under his breath. 

You were still shaking, eyes still glazed over, lips starting to turn blue. He gathered both of your hands in one, the other gripping your chin, squeezing enough so your lips parted. She felt his magic swirling, forcing air into your lungs. 

You jolted, as if you were transported back to your body. Rowan hadn’t released his grip on your hands, and good thing because you looked ready to swing at him. Shaking, but eyes now clear, you looked around the room, studied their faces. 

“I should go,” you murmured. 

“You’re not going anywhere until you’re feeling better.” 

Narrowed eyes stared at Rowan, and he stared right back. You didn’t argue, perhaps sensing this was a fight you wouldn’t win. 

She felt the instincts flaring in him, in herself, the instinct to protect someone they claimed as their own. Friend or other, if someone was defenseless, vulnerable … it was normal amongst Fae to feel this. She had before for friends, but maybe not to this level. 

-

“It happened once, when we were together,” Rowan said, after you’d fallen asleep - curled up right on their couch. Your eyes started drooping, falling quickly into sleep, and Rowan showed no inclination of wanting to move you back to your rooms, instead they carefully arranged you into a more comfortable position, tucking a blanket over you. 

Like before, you weren’t able to give a solid reason why. He’d ask again tomorrow, and maybe things would be a bit clearer for you. 

Rowan knew this happened before, and he was running through the circumstances, trying to pick out similarities. 

“A friend invited me to a ball,” you commented absentmindedly. He knew you weren’t fishing for jealousy, you were just bringing up something going on in your life - something on your mind. 

“Oh?” Rowan ran his hand up and down your bare back. “Are you going?” 

“I’m not sure. I’m not the best person to bring to those.” 

Rowan doubted that, and called it. “Bullshit.” 

He felt more than saw your scowl. “I don’t like them.” 

“That’s better,” he teased. “Why?” 

“Bad memories.” 

That peaked his interest. You rarely mentioned the past, and he always wanted to know more - maybe because of that, you were somewhat of a mystery. “Want to share?” He asked. You froze. 

The only similarities were the ball. 

Rowan cursed under his breath as you shook in your sleep. 

-

A ball! It was magical, and beautiful. Males and females dressed up, and your mother had made you a pretty blue dress for it. Everyone’s attention was on your father, but you didn’t mind - it gave you time to observe everyone. 

You were still thinking about it as you all trotted up towards your house, still in Fae form. You’d set off too early in your opinion, but it was smart to travel by daylight. You were glad you’re old enough to travel in Fae form. Carriages were much less fun.

You still carried your pack on your back as you shifted back, dumping it in your bedroom before hurrying back for breakfast. The dagger you got for your birthday was still strapped to your thigh, but you didn’t mind now. 

Their faces were grave, and your mother crouched before you, gripping your shoulders. “I need you to run for the hills. Leave, do not look back.” 

“But -,” looking out the window - the wards were strong, but hundreds and hundreds of soldiers were quickly descending, as if they’d been hiding and waiting for your return. It was easy enough to sense out who they were. Mortal soldiers, without magic. “I can help,” you insisted. 

“If you die too,” the first tears left your cheeks, “then they win. Do you understand?” 

You shook your head. 

“They want to kill us, to kill your father and wipe our bloodline. To wipe our magic out.” 

Her eyes said; you’re the only hope, you’re our legacy.

A few more convincing words from both of your parents, and you ran for the hills. As soon as you tried to turn back, the wards were melded around you. To keep you away from any threats. 

Absolutely useless, but you forced yourself to watch as it happened. As they finally fell, as their heads were staked on the fence posts. The soldiers remained, but you could out wait them. You could memorize their faces, memorize the way they spoke, commit it to memory and find your vengeance one day. 

“Terrasen,” a familiar voice interrupted, “You’re in Orynth.” 

“Safe,” another said. Female. 

A memory, that’s what it was. You weren’t trapped in that moment, you could come back to the present. There was nothing holding you here, not now. 

“Good,” the male voice coaxed as your body relaxed, as you leaned into the sensations around you. Blanket, hands gripping yours, pine, snow, jasmine, and lemon verbena, the feeling of ancient magic - of fire, ice, wind, and a hint of water. Eventually, you managed to open your eyes. 

“I need you to tell us where you went,” Rowan said, even adding, “please, y/n.” 

How often had he said your names? How often does he say please? Words were effort, but when he asked so nicely, you could share. Trust, you reminded yourself. The small thread, a sign of the Goddess who watched over you, tugged and encouraged you. 

“The night before my parents died,” your voice was hoarse, your throat aching - like something dry had been shoved down it. “We were at a ball. We arrived home that morning, and they were waiting for us. Surrounded.” 

“When your parents died?” Aelin asked quietly. 

It hurt, gods it hurt so fucking much, but you told her the story - as much as you could manage, and she listened intently. Thankfully, there was no pity in her eyes - understanding, instead. That was much more palpable. 

-

Rowan thought he experienced the same thing as Aelin. When you shared the story about the dagger, but this time it was directed towards him. The entire time you shared, your eyes never drifted from him. 

A show of trust to him, and he’d take that gift and hold it close. Your trust was difficult to earn, and relatively easy to break. He’d treat it with caution, like he would any treasure. 

He was glad Aelin didn’t give away that he’d already told her the story. His wife was a good actress, and it shoved. The small bit of trust you showed him made him feel like a hypocrite. At the time, telling Aelin about your past felt essential, but now it resembled something of a betrayal. 

-

“How are you going to explain my presence?” 

Rowan and Aelin exchanged a glance, one that told you they’d already discussed this. Not surprising. 

“Even without the ball,” he emphasized, “we considered asking if you’d like to be an advisor to the court.” He held up a hand as your lips parted, and damn you, your mouth shut on instinct. At least he didn’t seem to gloat about it. “The wards around Orynth could use another look, and you have unique skills and expertise.” 

They actually value your opinion, you reminded yourself.  

“You swear it, without the ball you still would’ve?” You’re not sure why, but it really mattered to you. 

“I swear it.” 

Rowan’s promises are as good as gold when it comes to him, so you gave your agreement. Then started to plan what you’d do about the castle and city wards. Of course, you’d already had time to think about it. 

The ball would occur a week after beltane this year, when the last of the snow was predicted to abate, making travel tolerable.  

Time passed quicker than you thought was possible. Ceri turned eleven, her birthday falling on the spring equinox this year. As her present, you let her pick out her chickens, and you and Rowan teamed up to start teaching her how to shift. An argument wouldn’t be right, but you did have a few disagreements over teaching styles. At least Aelin was on your side for that. 

Then, it was beltane. Early that morning, you and Ceri went out to leave some gifts for the little folk at the crosspaths near your home. She’d spent a good portion of the previous day helping you craft them. Surprisingly patient and focused. Maypoles had been raised, hawthorn bushes decorated, and piles of wood gathering on the field before the city, waiting to be set alight. 

You didn’t walk out with the Queen and King, by the time you arrived the fires were already burning. Ceri’s friends had come over before, for an early dinner, and now trailed together in a small pack. 

“You know your signal?” You murmured to your daughter. A burst of magic, one to let you know if she needed you, with three different levels of urgency. 

“Yes,” she grinned up at you. Ceri was quite proud of herself for mastering that - as she should be. 

“Go on, then.” 

The four raced off, weaving in and out of the fires, brief flashes of silver hair were like a beacon. Heads would turn as she passed, followed by small whispers. Ceri had adapted easily to those, thrilled by the attention, it was you that needed adjustment. Needed to stop giving a death stare to anyone who watched a few seconds too long.  

Fenrys found you first, hanging out towards the edge of the fires, fully content to observe and watch. 

He was not content with that, instead he dragged you right into the heart of the celebrations. 

Thankfully, Aelin and Rowan didn’t try to drag you into anything. It was a time for the people to speak with their Queen and King, and you had plenty of exposure to the pair. 

“How did you escape doing all of that?” You jerked your chin towards where they were speaking with another group. 

“I came early,” he shot you a grin. His attention wavered, and you knew exactly who was making her way across the field. 

Ines, all auburn hair, freckled skin, and bright green eyes, strode for both of you - cheeks already flushed. You didn’t miss how her heart rate picked up when she spotted who was next to you. 

“Do I need to give you two a moment?” You murmured under your breath. 

“We’ve had plenty of those.” 

You groaned. Suspicion is fine, but you didn’t need confirmation. 

Ines gripped your hand, “we’re jumping over one of them,” she announced, “for luck.” 

“I know what it’s for,” you let her drag you anyway. When was the last time you’d done this? Maybe the year before Ceri was born. 

Picking a medium low fire, the two of you gathered your skirts in one hand, still holding onto each other, and kicked your shoes away. 

“One,” She grinned at you. 

“Two,” you shot one back at her, eyes lighting up. 

“Three.” 

With surprising coordination, you both launched yourself over. Heat skimmed the bottom of your bare feet, but you made it over without any burns. Ines, thankfully, did as well. 

Laughing, arms wrapped around each other, it took you longer than you cared to admit to locate your shoes again. 

-

Rowan watched you jump over the fire with your friend, his mouth turning up at the corners. 

Of course, you had to pretend you didn’t know each other, but you’d been at the same beltane celebration before, and he had the pleasure of watching you jump over fires. At least you remembered to hold your skirts up. He had to suffocate the flames last time. 

Aelin tapped his shoulder, “I’d give her a seven out of ten.” 

A genuine laugh left him, and she wound her arm around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. He never took these moments, these reminders of the peace they fought for. 

Neither did everyone gathered around them. 

-

The celebration lasted into early hours of the morning, and it was near three when the fires finally died down. You’d trusted Evangeline to escort Ceri and her friends back to the castle, and mentally prepared yourself to head home. There were plenty others flooding through the streets, so it shouldn’t be any issue. 

Somehow, you found yourself roped into going into the castle. Fenrys informed you that their Majesty and Highness wanted to see you, and him - of course. Aedion and Lysandra joined you - a few bottles of wine each, Rowan and Aelin coming shortly after. Gods, you could drink, but northerners were on another level. 

-

“Stay the night,” Aelin insisted. “There’s no need for you to traipse through the streets after dark.”

“Are you certain?” 

“Yes,” Rowan huffed, like it was ridiculous you were asking for confirmation. It really was, they wouldn’t have offered if they didn’t mean it. 

This was nice. Aelin never took these nights for granted. The beltane celebrations, seeing her people at peace, out and enjoying the traditions squashed by Adarlan for a decade. She loved that you were here now, that you’d been brought into their lives. Now, she could count you as one of the people closest to her, and gods she hoped you felt the same. 

They might not have convinced you to live in the castle, but having you spend a few nights here - she’d take it over nothing. Just having you in Orynth was heaven. 

Aelin decided the little bit of wine she had could explain these thoughts. Very inappropriate thoughts about you, about the mother of her mate’s child. She hated herself for reducing you to that, rejected the thought as soon as it drifted inside her mind. You were more than just a mother, even if you didn’t always see it that way. 

A foot nudged her leg, tracking her back to the present. 

“You’re staring,” Rowan murmured. You were caught up in conversation with Aedion, but Fenrys kept shooting Aelin wary looks. She didn’t bother trying to stare him down, only looking at Rowan, her eyes saying; sorry. 

Why? 

She’s very pretty, came out. She hadn’t had enough wine to blame these thoughts on. These were the thoughts of sober Aelin, just flowing more freely this time. 

His eyebrows flicked up in amusement, I’m aware. 

Right, he did put a baby in her. The thought didn’t make Aelin jealous, she almost wished she was there … 

“It’s so weird when the two of you do that,” Aedion’s voice cut her off. 

“Deal with it,” Rowan growled, before turning back to her. You should do something about that little crush of yours. 

Maybe I will. 

-

Rowan cut off the wine after another bottle, all but kicking Fenrys, Aedion, and Lysandra out. It was nearing five in the morning now, and even with nothing planned in the morning, it was getting late. Besides, he and Aelin wanted you in here - alone with them. When you rose to leave, Aelin grabbed onto your hand, tugging you back down. 

“Stay a while,” she insisted, squeezing your hand. Rowan carefully monitored your every reaction. Aelin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side like she usually did. He didn’t think it was entirely romantic on your part, at least that you knew, but he saw how you practically purred with the touch, how much you loved it - acted like you needed it. Everything was going to plan. 

-

Aelin pulled away, and you frowned - instantly missing the warmth of her body. But, her hand trailed up your arm, stopping to cup your jaw. When you didn’t pull away, she wound another arm around your waist, tugging you closer, her eyes scanning your face. 

“Fuck it,” she muttered, and her hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers. 

At first, you froze. But when she didn’t stop, you followed her lead, falling into her rhythm for a few moments before reality caught up to you. With a gasp, you pulled away from her. 

She had a hungry look in her eyes, watching like she was waiting for a moment to pounce again, to take you back and claim you. No, no, no. You found Rowan’s eyes, an apology right on your lips, but a shake of his head stopped you as he stood, crossing the room to sit on your other side. His finger pressed against your cheek, turning you to face him. Even as he had your attention, he didn’t move his hand, only sliding it to cup your jaw. An intimate touch. Aelin’s arm was still wrapped around your waist. 

“Are you going to deny her, deny Aelin, what she wants?” This question felt like a trap. 

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Rowan’s eyes lit with amusement - and something else, something familiar. Familiar enough it terrified you. 

Aelin twisted you, now so you faced Rowan, her other hand twining itself in your hair, tilting your head to the side. Her lips pressed against your neck, trailing up the side. Your head fell, granting her more access, a small whimper slipping past your lips. She didn’t bite, but nipped at the skin - right where your neck met your shoulder. Did she know how significant that was? Apparently so, because she chuckled behind you. 

She was purposefully holding you here. Keeping you where you’d lock eyes with Rowan, where he could watch the two of you. His knuckle grazed your cheekbone, a small ‘this is fine,’ and cemented it with a small nod. 

That was all you needed, before you twisted back around, letting Aelin’s lips meet your own. 

-

Aelin decided, first, that she’s very glad she did something about her ‘little crush.’ Next, she decided you were a fantastic kisser, and she needed to figure out how to repeat this experience. Preferably as often as possible. 

When you finally pulled away, desperately sucking in air, she took the chance to glance at Rowan. 

She’s good. His brows flicked, but he didn’t comment. Isn’t this the part where it’s your turn?

Aelin ran her thumb over your lips, keeping your attention on her while she waited for Rowan’s response. 

What do you think? She hadn’t heard him this unsure in a while. It was rather endearing, to see him caught off guard. 

Aelin looked back down to you - to your puffy lips and bright eyes, and lowered her voice. “Rowan wants to kiss you,” she said, and watched for your reaction. First, your eyes widened, and then you glanced over your shoulder quickly, before turning back to her. You wanted her permission. Maybe for her to make the choice for you. Something Aelin could easily do. 

“Are you going to deny him?” She teased, copying Rowan’s earlier words. A snort from behind her, but sure enough you were pulled away. Even Rowan had limits to his patience. 

Watching the two of you, how his hand gripped the back of your head, the other cupping your jaw, your arms hesitantly resting on his shoulders, Aelin realized she might be something of a voyeur. At least with the two of you. 

He took control, tilting your head exactly where he wanted you, and you easily followed. Seamlessly, effortlessly. Aelin felt like she was viewing a memory, something from deep in the past, and didn’t find herself jealous. 

You pulled away, “I think… I think that’s all I can handle for tonight.” 

Lips bruised, hair messed, and cheeks flushed, Aelin wanted to keep you here, but she wouldn’t push. 

-

Rowan ended up walking you back to your rooms, taking a step inside before closing the door gently. 

He gripped both of your shoulders, making sure your eyes were on him. “Don’t overthink it.” 

“Easier said than done.”

Arms wrapped around you, tugging you right into a hard and warm chest. Easily, you wrapped your arms around him. This was familiar, this was safe. 

“We both wanted it,” he rubbed circles into your back. Maybe he sensed you needed reassurance. 

“Let me guess, you made a plan?” You joked. 

Rowan didn’t answer, and you tilted your head to look up at him. He had an unapologetic grin on his face. Eyes rolling, a laugh came from your chest. Brushing hair away from your face, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Don’t run away in the morning,” he said and you dropped your arms. Taking a step back, keeping his eyes on you, he gripped the doorknob. Another smile, and he slipped out the door. 

“Goodnight to you too,” you called down the hallway. 

-

Thirty minutes later, you paced inside of your rooms, the haze fading, and traced your finger over your now bruised and puffy lips. Had that really happened? Had you imagined it? 

Definitely not. 

Are you going to deny her? Are you going to deny him?

Oh fuck. 

Bracing your hands on the counter, you took a deep breath before looking in the mirror. Facing you, was a female with flushed cheeks, messed hair, bruised lips, and a glow. A female who looked free. 

It’s a shame freedom has its costs, because this couldn’t happen again. 

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh 

[twst-drabbles]

Floyd and Grim 1

Summary: One of Floyd’s favorite words beyond your name was ‘Seal.’ Whenever you hear it, it’s not because he’s seeing the actual animal, it’s because he saw Grim and is chasing him around the yard.

(Floyd being a little shit is always fun.)

“Seal!” A high squeaky voice almost pierced your ear as you fumbled with your newspaper, “Seal seal seal! Oomph… Seal!”

A wet flop, almost like a small body fell into mud before the yelling started up. Uh-oh.

You place your paper down on the table and got up. Seems you were sitting for too long because some of the bones in your spine popped. You ignored the slight pain. There are more important things to focus on. “Alright, what’s Floyd up to now?”

Seal was... an odd choice of a word for that cat. Why seal? Because he's gray and round? Probably. You don't really know any other cat that his specific shade of gray. Or has fire on the ears.

The stray cat that’s comes around, Grim you named him, has been hanging out more often in the garden. Probably because he’s figured out the little pet door you installed in the back. You’re pretty sure he comes inside to sleep in the corner, since there’s some scorch on the kitchen tiles and little bits of gray fur.

You haven’t put anything in his corner yet, not out of apathy but out of knowing the sensibilities of cats. The minute you put in something new in their territory, they either never approach again or they pee all over it. You don’t like either choices, so you just don’t.

You open the door and were not shocked by what you saw.

“Floyd!” You yelled out, knowing it was vain now that Floyd was up and chasing the yowling Grim around the yard. “Oh boy…”

From one side of the yard to the other, Floyd chased after the flame-eared cat with no regard for his distress. His ears flared brightly while sharp teeth and too-strong jaws opened wide and clipped just an inch away from Grim’s tail. No matter how fast Grim ran, Floyd was just an inch away from chomping on him.

In fact, Floyd was keeping up so well that Grim basically has his butt scooting against the floor. A weird little crab run, almost. A furry ball.

Floyd was clearly dinged up with bumps, bruises and cuts. Completely slathered in mud from the neck down but he didn’t care. Not when he’s running on the high of the chase.

How the cat hasn’t started a wild fire in your backyard is beyond you. Well, probably can’t on the account of what happened last time he did that. You can tell that thistle-like collar was not comfortable.

“Alright!” You stepped in just as they were in front of you and captured them both, Floyd by the tail and Grim by the scruff, “Stop.”

Floyd, upside down, swung himself back and forth violently, swiping his little claws right at Grim to try and grab him. “Seal! Seal seal!”

Grim practically retracted further into your hand, hissing. Seems he fears the little eel more than he hated you. Huh.

You walked to the tallest boulder and plopped Grim on top of it. And, of course, the minute you let go, the cat showed you his attitude by sniffing the air and raising his nose high in the air, as if none of you were worth his time.

You ignored him with a turn of your back. “So, Floyd.”

Grim, behind you, started a meow but choked on his saliva.

Floyd went limp now that his entertainment was gone. He stuck out his tongue at you and gave you a raspberry.

“You’re going in quarantine.” All those scraps and cuts along with the mud is a great recipe for infection.

Floyd whined at you, sticking out his grabby hands, demanding for cuddles like that’ll somehow make you forgive him.

“You don’t get cuddles Floyd. You get a bath.”

He sputtered angrily at you as you walked back into the kitchen.

“Hate you.”

“I know.”

Oh, he learned some new words. Interesting. You can’t help but wonder who taught him those.

[sinfulsalutations]

the bad batch irl headcanons: brainrot edition.

hunter

watches the boys, breaking bad, and basically anything with jk simmons in it

his top artist on his spotify wrapped was lana del rey and has been lana for 3 years straight

listens to self help audiobooks and true crime podcasts

stopped posting on tiktok because 30 year old moms kept commenting weird freaky shit

makes capcut template edits of himself

snap score is in the millions; his parents were confused on the questionnaire and instead ordered a thot son

tech

listens to playboi carti, earl sweatshirt, and ken carson. below them is classical music

never beats the “erm, actually” allegations. his friends turned him into a nerd sticker to use in conversations

reddit WARRIOR. his karma score is in the millions. he posts, no matter what, every two hours (schedules the posts if needed to). most active in the subreddits r/techtips and r/javascript

obeys the traffic laws in gta but if a pedestrian says some shit like “hey watch where you’re going asshole” he is CLOCKING that mfer

plays swipe games on tiktok religiously and will change his answers to fit better with the “lore”

watches jujutsu kaisen, has a tiktok collection dedicated entirely to gojo edits. despite that, maki is his favorite character

wrecker

his entire tiktok for you page consists of workout videos and cute animals

did the trend of tying a bow on the bicep and breaking it while he flexes

doesn’t know how to take photos of himself; watches tutorials on every social media he can find but still can’t figure it out

listens to bad bitch music. beyoncé, megan thee stallion, tinashe, doja cat, glorilla, nicki minaj, all that stuff.

comments “looked at my girl and smiled because she’s perfect” on a hot girls post

says “what the dog doin” all the time. all. the. time.

crosshair

serves cunt; serves all of the cunt

a back arching straight man; ur gay tote-bag carrying boyfriend

almost all his friends are lesbians. they take him to the queer/sapphic clubs and the chappel roan concerts

comments “why no one hating” on the most INNOCENT and PURE videos just to start arguments

is a biker boy but hates the whole “biker tok” stereotype and so he doesn’t go out on the bike anymore out of fear of being recorded without his consent

instagram notes is his main form of communication; he is an olympic ghoster

echo

his vocabulary contains “skibidi” “what the sigma” and “gyatt”

his most used “social medias,” in order, are pinterest, whatsapp, and tiktok

worked at a waffle house before he got fired for starting a fight

kpop fan. stans newjeans, tomorrow x together, and le sserrafim

the definition of “female rage”; also, indeed, serves cunt. not as much as crosshair, but serves cunt nonetheless.

has 13 daily hours of screen time. what is he doing for those hours? fuck if i know. fuck if he knows. fuck if his PHONE knows. (in reality, he leaves youtube videos playing all night and doesn’t even realize it)

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Battle With Razor Pt 4

It wasn’t long after the start of the battle proper that Razor made a break for it. Goldenstar couldn’t believe the absolute cowardice on display, especially from a leader. He didn’t call a full retreat, he just looked around, seemed to come to a conclusion, and fled. 

“Come on,” she’d barked to Orangestar and the two of them had bolted after him. Luckily, his size and the jingling of his bell made him easy to follow. 

“He’s going deeper into the woods!” Orangestar shouted. 

“Why would he do that?” Goldenstar called back above the noise. They burst from the throng of cats in pursuit of Razor’s fleeting tail tip. 

“I don’t- Ah!” Orangestar cried out and fell to the ground. Goldenstar whipped around to see the ginger cat she had met in the city pulling roughly on Orangestar’s tail. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, reeling her in. 

Goldenstar dropped into a crouch. “Orangest-”

“Keep going!” the other leader ordered, rolling over to kick at the tom’s face. “I’ll catch up with you! Don’t lose him!” 

“Got it,” Goldenstar nodded and pivoted again to charge deeper into the woods. Orangestar was right. The point was to kill Razor. If they let him go, the whole meeting would have been for nothing. 

She bounded through the woods after his scent trail and the faint jingling sound of his bell. The massive tom left a path of broken twigs and scattered leaf-litter in his wake that wasn’t hard to spot. As she raced through the trees, her mind was also racing. He was barrelling west, north-west, deeper into EarthClan’s territory and away from the city. Why would he do that? It wasn’t like he was headed for their camp. How would he have even known where it was? If they kept going, they would eventually run into the river but she couldn’t imagine he would run for that long. 

She couldn’t hear the bell anymore. She paused, looked around, and realized that the trail had vanished too. She looked around at the trees, tried to figure out if he had jumped up one, but that didn’t make any sense given where the trail had ended. It was as if, in the middle of a clearing, he simply disappeared. The fur along her spine prickled with unease as she padded carefully to the end of the trail, mouth open to find his scent. He was close, she was certain, but where exactly? The muffled breeze was blowing against her face but there was no trace of him on the wind. The smell of mulch and growing green things was distractingly strong. 

“Where are you?” she mumbled under her breath, eyes flashing around the clearing. She turned around to try retracing her steps and there he was, looming behind her. She gasped in a particularly undignified manner, puffing up to twice her size. 

Razor laughed. “Did I startle you?” 

Goldenstar lunged. There was no time for fear or conversation. She raised her claws to swipe at his face, aiming to blind him, but he reared up and slammed one of his heavy paws into the side of her head, sending her tumbling into a gnarled root. She groaned and heaved herself to her feet but he was on her again, laying multiple swats on her skull in quick succession. The world spun dangerously. 

“Shh, stay down, girl,” he soothed, one giant paw pressing down on her throat, claws unsheathed. She coughed and clawed blindly at his leg to no result. She quickly realized that he hadn’t been taking the fight seriously before. She had underestimated him, the one thing Scorch had told her she should never, never do. 

“I’m glad we could get some time alone,” he continued, his other paw trailing feather light along the ridge of her sternum. “A girl like you deserves special attention, don’t you think?” 

Goldenstar snarled and he chuckled to himself. As her vision started to clear, his face swam into view, silhouetted against the blood red light filtering in through the canopy above. His too-white smile spread like a menacing butterfly across his face, his pale eyes roving intrusively over her body. Goldenstar knew that, pinned as she was, her hind legs wouldn’t reach any part of his body that would matter so she settled for curling up to try and kick at his leg in a desperate attempt to dislodge it. 

Razor’s smile widened and he pressed harder on her throat, drawing blood and cutting off her air. Her body panicked at the sensation and she thrashed her body as hard as she could against his weight but there was nothing she could do. He was too heavy and seemed unfazed by the claw marks she was leaving on his legs. 

“This is my favorite part,” he purred. “I think it’s just adorable: the moment when a creature realizes there’s nothing she can do. If you stop struggling, this will be easier for both of us.” Goldenstar tried to hiss at him but there was no air in her lungs. She gaped helplessly, starting to feel darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision. Razor frowned and very slightly lifted his paw to allow her to gasp for air. With the immediate threat of death removed, her eyes shut tightly and her body went slack, save for her chest which heaved over and over again as she greedily gulped down air. She couldn’t think straight.

“That’s it,” he said, “stay with me. As fun as it would be to see you choke and squirm until you turned blue, that’s too good for you.” His free paw trailed down from her sternum to her stomach. As it went, he unsheathed his claws and Goldenstar yelped as they scraped her skin hard enough to draw blood. 

“No,” Razor rumbled,  “you thought you could take what was mine and get away with it. But nobody,” and here, he sank his claws deeper into her belly and twisted them, causing her to nearly bite through her own tongue, “gets away with stealing from me.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Goldenstar choked out around the blood now pooling in her mouth. “She couldn’t wait to get away from you!” 

“I know,” he laughed and Goldenstar nearly gagged. “She’s always been a flighty little bird.” He dragged his claws across her stomach and flicked them out of the flesh, tearing it away in a spray of dark blood. Goldenstar whined in pain and threw her eyes upward to try and focus on the branches of the tree, hoping it would distract her from the overwhelming pain.

He purred at the sound and kept speaking. “But she’s always known her place. It was your influence that fooled her into thinking she could live without everything I gave her.” He lifted his bloody paw and swiped his tongue between his toes, grinning down at her all the while. 

“You tortured her,” Goldenstar spat, trying to thrash again. 

Razor’s smile contorted into a furious snarl. “I love her!” he shouted, slamming both paws down on her throat. “I’ve shown her more kindness than she’d ever known! More kindness than a jealous little bitch like her deserves!” He sank his claws into her neck, that look of bloodlust back on his face. Goldenstar gasped and felt an uncomfortable flutter in her windpipe as the air escaped around his claws. If she didn’t do something soon, she was going to die. 

She kicked her hind legs up at him again, scrabbling at his now bloody arm. She twisted her head to try and sink her teeth into anywhere on his body she could. He snarled again and sank his claws in even further. 

“What could you possibly give her?!” he roared. “I am the Speaker! I am excellence personified! I am the most powerful cat alive! What are you?! You’re nothing!” The world was growing dark again, his voice fading as blood pounded in her ears and her focus started to drift uncontrollably into the void. She had failed. Tears welled in her eyes, not just from pain but from the shame of knowing she hadn’t been strong enough to protect anyone. The cold earth was leeching all of the heat from her body. Her paws started to grow stiff and numb. She couldn’t find the strength to lift her legs anymore. 

Distantly, she registered that Razor let go of her throat and heard him shout, as though at the end of a long tunnel, “Dammit! Don’t you dare die yet!” 

In one last act of defiance, she ignored him.

[nostalgiclittlespace]

Request

Caregiver: Husk

Little: Angel

Plot: Angel regresses super duper tiny (like newborn to 6 months) and Husk takes care of him

Thanks for the ask! This turned out super fluffy, I love CG Husker. Takes place the night after Charlie and Vaggie return from their tour to Heaven+Angel’s encounter with Val at the club. I hope you enjoy!

-Marty 🕷🐈‍⬛ SFW AGE REGRESSION FIC, DNI IF NSFW, KINK, MAP, PROSHIP, ETC. DO NOT REPOST Pairing: Caregiver! Husk x Little! Angel Dust

Title: What are they, compared to you?

Word Count: 1,372

Description: The stress in Hell is starting to get to both Husk and Angel. Good thing they have each other for solace and safety. (100% fluffy 😊)

What are they, compared to you?

What a day, Husk thought, swiping his paw over his face.  

Charlie and Vaggie had returned from their visit with Heaven earlier that day.  And it had ended poorly to say the least.  Charlie’s reassurances to them all that “everything is going to be fine!  I can convince them!” had disintegrated upon the first glance at the princess’s devastated face as they were thrown through a golden portal.

Despite their best efforts, Exterminators would be arriving in a month, headed first to the Hazbin Hotel.

Not to mention the horrific experiences at the club while Charlie and Vaggie were gone…no, it’s best not to think about that, Husk shook his head.  He couldn’t do anything to stop Valentino, despite the utter fury that burned his heart as he witnessed Angel’s pain first hand.  For now, he could only supply support from the sidelines.  

Unlike Valentino, Husk wasn’t an Overlord.  Not anymore.  Powerless.

Husk sighed.  Tensions were running high, that was for sure.  The cat-demon occupied the hours since Charlie’s return with mindless bar-tending, sending discreet glances at the other Hotel patrons.  His keen eyes provided enough insight to know things didn’t look good for anyone.

Whatever.   Nothing I can do about it now, Husk thought, ready to put the issue to rest for now.  Reaching his bedroom door, he fished his key from his pocket.  He fought back a yawn as he stuck the key into the door—

Creakkkkk

Only to realize the door was already open.  

Husk’s ear perked up, training on the room.  Shuffling, quiet breathing…Someone is in there.

Husk’s wings raised defensively, and he snatched his metal-plated playing cards.  Attacks on the hotel had lost their intimidating luster—perhaps every few days vandalism or an explosion appeared at their doorstep.  But intruders?

Anything was possible, Husk reminded himself.  Though cautious, he couldn’t bring himself to be fearful of the unknown beyond the cracked door.  He, an ex-Overlord, could fight his way out of anything.  Save for his contract with Alastor.  The singular being hiding in his room posed little threat.

Prepping his steely focus, Husk shoved the door open.  His playing cards peaked between his fingers, and his fangs barred.  Perhaps one of the only perks to being a cat demon, his pupils swiftly dilated to counteract the darkness beyond.  

It wasn’t hard to spot the shuffling’s cause.  A certain, wide-eyed spider had curled up on his bed, surrounded by blankets, stuffies, and a pacifier bobbing in his mouth.  He momentarily froze as his eyes met Husk’s suspicious ones.  After a split second to process, Husk dropped his defensive demeanor. 

“Angel,” Husk sighed.  “What are you doing up late, kid?”

The spider-demon tilted his head, sending his fluffy bangs to fall before his face.   Angel mumbled something unintelligible as he patted his stuffies and fleece blanket.  Even without words, the message came clear.

“Tiny time, huh?” Husk nodded, venturing into the room.  “Couldn’t have turned any lights on?”

Angel shook his head, extending his arms out to Husk.  The bartender complied, sitting on the bed with him.  Before he could say anything else, four arms wrapped around his furry torso and Angel dragged himself into his lap–slow, uncoordinated movements that were a far cry from the spider’s usual grace.  Nonetheless, Husk took it in stride, adjusting Angel so they’d both fit comfortably while pressed so close together.

Admittedly, the position was fairly odd.  Angel, being so lanky and tall, managed to slump over, tuck in his legs, and keep his head ducked into Husk’s chest.  All while his arms kept the cat as close as possible.  Husk stayed sitting up against the headboard, trying to ensure Angel had enough room.

“Long day for you too, Angie?” Husk hummed, his paws patting Angel Dust’s floofy hair.  “Third time this week you’ve been small.”

As expected, Angel babbled something long winded but cute.  Between the pacifier that somehow stayed in his mouth and the slurred sound, Husk couldn’t decipher it.  He nodded along anyway, allowing the baby to ‘tell’ him all about his day.  A couple clearer sounds made it through, which suspiciously sounded like ‘Val’ and ‘work.’  An innocent pout often followed those words.

Husk pushed his rising anger aside.  He knew full and well that whatever had triggered Angel was Valentino’s fault, but he couldn’t do anything about that now.  For now he could only take care of the very vulnerable spider that had attached himself to his chest.

“Well, thanks for sharing all that, buddy,” Husk huffed softly, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.  “How about we get you into some comfy clothes and something to eat?”

Angel squealed happily and bounced in Husk’s hold.  I’ll take that as a yes, Husk thought, scooting them to the bed’s edge.  He adjusted his hold on the baby in his arms so he was fully supported before bringing him over to the dresser.  Digging through the messy drawers, he soon came across the pair of pajamas they had saved for occasions like these.

Husk had taken care of Angel while regressed before this.  The two had been trying to be more honest with each other after all, trying to feel less alone.  So, when Angel confided that he didn’t always feel as mature as he acted…well it was a no brainer that he would need a Caregiver.  Especially when he was this young.

Husk didn’t mind at all.  Even in a few short weeks he and Angel had bonded well.  Besides, seeing the kid comfortable, safe, and happy?  Worth any cost.

Arriving back at the bed, Husk carefully lowered Angel onto the mattress.  The baby got distracted instantly, his attention stolen by one of his stuffies.  Works for me, Husk thought, huffing affectionately as Angel reached for it.  It’s sure easier to get all his arms sorted out when he’s not wiggling.

Changing into his PJ’s (pink with a pig pattern) went smoothly as it possible could when dressing a kid with six lanky appendages.  Comfortable and prepped for the night, Angel began to fuss, waiting for his favorite part of their recently implemented routine: dinner.

“Working on it, kid,” Husk laughed as he went to snatch a bottle from another drawer.  “You sure get impatient when it’s time to eat, don’t you?”

Angel grumbled something that sounded awfully sassy, but Husk ignored him in favor of snatching the milk from the mini-fridge.  Husk couldn’t help but shake his head as he noticed that almost all his favorite drinks were gone, replaced by milk, juice, and kiddie snacks.  Geez, he was going soft wasn’t he?

A spoonful of sugar, followed by a splash of vanilla had the bottle ready to be warmed.  Angel milk, Husk mused as he waited for the bottle heater to beep, A fitting name.  

A few moments later, a conveniently timed ding, interrupted Angel’s bored and impatient huffs.  Perfect, Husk thought, feeling the temperature in his paws as he returned to his baby’s side.  He couldn’t even fully sit down before Angel scrambled into his lap.

“Alright, kiddo, alright,” he laughed, removing Angel’s paci and replacing it with the bottle.  “Well, good job waiting.  Enjoy it.”

Angel’s impending wrath was appeased as the sippy popped into his mouth.  With Husk supporting the bottle, Angel’s hands held onto the cat’s fingers or his suspender straps.  He quieted down, and Husk enjoyed the calm floating between them.

As the bottle gradually emptied, Angel’s eyes took longer and longer blinks.  His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm and his limbs went slack.  Perhaps the only thing that hadn’t gone limp was the hand keeping a grip on Husk’s clothes.  An anchor to his Caregiver.

Realizing he had fallen asleep, Husk carefully extended his feathered wings and wrapped them around Angel like a blanket. He stirred momentarily, but settled again once his paci was perturbed to his mouth.

Husk couldn’t help but smile as he watched Angel fall asleep again, the silicone soothing bobbing in his mouth.  Angel deserved this safe space…and hell if Husk hadn’t needed this too.

Bad times were coming.  Bad things had happened already.  Husk couldn’t stop any of it.  But this?  This made any other force seem meaningless in comparison.