#and she looked so confused why he has a tail

[janahanooo]

My grandma: *lifts up my Leona plush*

My grandma: he looks like a typical white boy

Me: *trying not to die from laughing* y-yeah, gran, he does

My grandma: look, he even has a tail! Youngsters and their weird things now days

Me: *I was dying at this point*

My grandma: *puts him down, pats it on the head* he's quite handsome tho

[beloveds-embrace]

Chubby reader x monster!141…. Chubby reader where you are at all-time-low after your ex cheated on you with the woman you had always been insecure of (she was everything you were not), so now you are just done. Done with him, with her, with your terrible work that forced you to come in even while sick, done with life.

So you go to a bar, and intend to fully drink yourself and all your sorrows away. You don’t even care enough to ask any friends to accompany you- they knew. They fucking knew. Calling them friends anymore is just stupid- and you don’t care enough to look around at anyone; you know you aren’t anyone’s preference either.

When a man, big and burly, curling horns and two big ass wings (maybe one of those dragon shifters? You know harpies have feathers, but the rest of your brain is too muddled) sits down next to you, you just ignore him and continue nursing your drink, trying your best to bite back the tears in your eyes.

“That’s enough now, love,” he croons, and much to your confusion, he takes the glass away from you. His voice is rough and rumbling, like thunder. Too hazy, too drunk, you don’t even care enough to get angry at him. No, your eyes fill with tears instead. “No, no, calm down. Let’s get you out of here, alright, little love?”

Another man joins your other side, just as big and burly but shorter than the dragon man who is making you tear up by holding your drink, your source of solace tonight, hostage in his hand. This one is a werewolf, his ears flicking in your direction much like his grin and his tail eagerly thumping to and fro against your chair.

“Sweet lass,” he croons, your teary eyes flicking towards him. You can see his hands clench in the air. Why, why, why- you just wanted to drink away. They are both so handsome, such a shame they clearly don’t like you and are just bothering you for the sake of bothering you, a fat woman in a miserable corner. “Enough tears and enough alcohol, aye, hen? Yer aff yer heid!”

His words are so strange, your tears momentarily pause. “What…?” You wonder outloud, shivering when you feel a warm breath across your neck, warming your skin. The dragon. His hand settles on your lower back, nudging you to get off the chair with them, and you feel like crying again. He probably can feel all the fat there, how horrible-

“Careful there, little love.” Dragon steadies you with two hands when you get dizzy, and with weak hands you try to swat at him, try to move away, but the werewolf is at your other side and keeping you pressed between them.

“S’op… stop callin’ me that,” you mumble. The tears roll down then. “Not- not funny, not at all-“

Two other hands on your back, a tail thumping against the back of your thighs, you are still led outside even as you babble about everything. Your size, your ex, the one your ex cheated, your work, your ex-

You want your damn drink back.

For their part, Price and Johnny didn’t think coming out for a drink tonight would lead to finding their last soulmate. The second they had entered the dinky bar, John had expected to need to puff out a deep, smoky breath to keep his nose clean from all the overwhelming smells and Johnny had prepared to to keep his nose happily pressed into John’s skin.

They hadn’t expected to smell you, something like the smell of stepping into a warm home after spending time out in winter, something like watching soft, golden sunlight stream into the nest room on a morning they spend sleeping in with Kyle and Simon. Like soulmate, like the last link of John’s hoarde and Johnny’s pack, and he has no doubt that you are Kyle’s nest and Simon’s. Simply his. A part of him just as you are a part of them.

Driven so wholly by instincts, seeing you drunk and crying pushing them even more into said instincts, they easily you herd along with them, back to their home. All explanations, everything else can wait until tomorrow. You are so soft to the touch, all tender and squishy, they already think you so perfect. In the back of the car, it doesn’t take seconds before you are dozing off and dead to the world, already so trusting.

By tomorrow morning, Simon would be easily able to track down where you live and get all your items. And also find that shitty ex of yours. John hasn’t yet decided if he wants to thank or beat him.

Watching the way Johnny holds you in his lap from the rearview mirror while he drives, hands squeezing your lovehandles with a low groan, mumbling about how much he already adores you, soft bonnie hen, all theirs- John decides he doesn’t give a single fuck about your ex at the moment. He needs to hold you between his arms and wings, in the comfort of his nest.

Fuck, he might end up breaking more than just a few speed limits.

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the scariest things that ever happened to me was when I was working at Red Robin. I was around eighteen and I worked as a host. I answered phones, opened doors, and seated people. The job wasn’t strenuous.

One night, the phone rang. It was fully dark outside. My shift was almost over and my mom was picking me up because I still didn’t have a car of my own. She was waiting in the parking lot when the store phone rang.

I picked up with a chirpy greeting and slammed into a horror movie when a gruff voice informed me that he could see me. He had a shotgun pointed into the building and I’d see brain matter sprayed across the walls if I didn’t do what he said. My brain froze in blind panic. I couldn’t believe this terrible thing was really happening to me.

The restaurant was all windows, visible on all sides by the parking lot except for the kitchen. He could be looking in from any direction, shotgun leveled on customers, or coworkers, or me. “Do you hear me?” he asked.

I stared in blank terror, not answering until he yelled, “Do you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you have a cellphone?”

“Yes,” I was so transfixed with fear it hadn’t occurred to me to lie.

“Give me the number.”

My mind suddenly whirred into panicky circles. I couldn’t give some crazy man my phone number, I needed to do something else but I couldn’t make up a number either because my head was pounding with adrenaline. My frightened head latched onto the only other number I had memorized.

I rattled off my mothers phone number.

“You’re going to hang up the phone, walk to the back dumpster with your cell phone in your left hand, and I’m going to call you. No one has to die tonight.”

I stood shaking with the phone pressed to my ear.

“Hang up.”

I hung up the phone. I was trembling, but I knew there was no windows in the kitchen. If I got to the kitchen I’d be safe, and that’s where he told me to go so I could make it there if I just held it together.

I made it to dry storage and met one of the assistant managers exiting. I broke down in sobs and started garbling in incoherent fear. He looked utterly flabbergasted by this, as I had the reputation of being the most level headed of the host staff.

He asked me to wait at the bar. He rushed off to try to finish what he was doing so he could deal with me. I was too scared to leave the kitchen hallway; I huddled as close the end of the bar as I could get without leaving the safety of the wall.

I was sobbing when the bartender looked over and saw me. She gasped in outrage and had me into the managers office in a blink, arms around me asking what was wrong, what was wrong.

I was finally in an enclosed room with a locking door. The gibbering in my head calmed to the point that I relayed the whole thing to the bartender. Near the end, the manager returned. He had my mother in tow.

She was furious, hearing the tail end of my death threat call. Apparently, while sitting in the parking lot she’d received the call I had been too scared to get.

The man had asked if she was me, and she was instantly combative. She didn’t tell him anything, just demanded to know, “Who’s This?” He hung up.

He’d called back once just saying my name and she’d angrily asserted, “No.” He hung up.

My mom was furious and confused and marched into the building. Part of her anger was that I’d given away her phone number. She’s a violently private person. My manager had been making sure the servers knew they didn’t have a host when my mom burst in on a mission of vengeance. He quickly escorted my rampaging mother to the back room and they were both in time to hear I’d received a death threat.

My mom rounded on my manager demanding to know why they hadn’t called the police and he pleaded that this was the first he was hearing about it. The police were called.

My mom and I waited in a booth while my nerves jangled with anxiety. No one had checked the cars outside for shooters and now I was sitting here exposed, surrounded by windows. She tried not to be mad about me giving her number given my emotional state, but she wasn’t thrilled with me.

A police office showed up an hour later. I answered her questions and my manager asked if I wanted anything. Everyone at the table looked astonished when I requested a root beer float. But by god, I wanted one.

The officer assured me that most events like this did not happen on site, that the caller wasn’t here. I didn’t believe the dowdy woman sitting across from me had even bothered to do a security sweep but I drank my float and tried to forget the darkness of the night staring in from all those windows. The clear line of sight on me from every side. The image of brain splattering against the glass divider. I drank more root beer.

I got a day off to calm down. On closing shifts after that my heart would pound when the phone rang and the bartenders all agreed to be on phone duty for me. A private investigator came in one day and I recited the whole event again. He’d been hired by the company as Red Robin’s nation wide had been targeted by the same caller.

The investigator told me he was working on it. That dozens of other businesses across the country had been called. He told me that if I’d given the caller my real number I would have been subjected to sexual assault over the phone.

I was starting to feel stupid. Everyone I told was so sure that he’d never even been present. That I’d never been in danger. The only thing I could console myself with was that many other girls had given him their number, but I hadn’t. I started forcing myself to pick the phone back up on closing shifts.

A few months later I was notified that he’d been arrested. The private investigator hired by a fast food restaurant had done what the police force hadn’t and tracked him down to a small town in the Midwest. My testimony was one of dozens used to convict him and for a while I received checks for 0.23 cents as reparations for the mental distress.

[fanaroff]

Dp x DC Prompt: Space Like An Ocean

An alien had taken up residence outside of the Watchtower. Its first appearance immediately started a panic with most of the heroes that could survive in space converging on the station to see whether it was friend or foe. In the end, it did not seem either.

In fact, it seemed fine with just basking and napping wrapped around parts of the Watchtower that made up the outside. It wasn’t the size of the Watchtower, but off and on it was a very near thing.

Humanoid, yet distinctly inhuman. White whispy hair sat atop its head, pointed ears, and the only feature that could be made out of its face were two bright green glowing eyes. A color that sent Batman into a research frenzy. Its skin was void-dark. Almost looking as if a piece of space itself had separated from the cosmos and took and almost snake-like form. Or maybe an eel?

The most notable thing about the creature were its injuries. Multiple lacerations covered it, leaking a green that never touched the Watchtower and seemed to evaporate not long after leaving its body. Any silent attempts to collect it for study and to figure out what it was were met with emotionless green eyes and a bare hint of fang. They backed off quickly.

Flash liked to call it a mer-eel. “Cause it’s got an almost human torso, two arms, and the rest just kind of curls up!”

Wonder Woman was unimpressed with this. “That would suggest it is more like a naga.”

To which Green Lantern replied, “No, no, he’s right. There’s an almost white fin-like bit that goes down the tail like an eel’s does.”

Any more attempts to identify the creature led to nothing and soon the “eel” became a silent fixture of the Watchtower.

It was ages later when Zatanna entered the Watchtower to discuss a completely non-connected case when she stumbled immediately upon leaving the Zeta Tube and had to lean against a wall, breathing heavily.

“Something feels like Death.” Was all she could get out before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground. She wouldn’t wake up, dead asleep. Immediate worry all around lead to Justice League Dark being contacted in full.

Constantine with Deadman in tow were ultimately the ones to solve the mystery. It took but a moment for Deadman to be seen thanks to Constantine’s “magic” and awe was the first thing apparent on his face. Deadman didn’t even need to leave the Watchtower to know what it was.

“Oh,” he whispered like a prayer. “So that’s where he goes when he takes a break.”

Queue questioning.

“He” turned out to be Phantom, the Ghost King who had apparently decided the Watchtower was a perfect basking spot. Confusion was abound at this.

“No, see,” Deadman tried to explain. “He has two Obsessions and the Watchtower feeds into both. Heroes who protect, as he is a protector spirit himself and probably feels a kinship, and space.”

Constantine and Deadman explained as best as they could, but when the questions finally settled, the last was “Why isn’t Constantine affected like Zatanna? Why aren’t the rest of them affected like Zatanna?”

“That’s easy!” Deadman piped. “None of you are attuned to death magic! I’m a ghost, he’s my King. Zatanna is a magician with experience in most magics. And Constantine doesn’t own enough of his soul to feel the death!”

In the end, a request from Deadman was all it took for things to change. With barely a rumble, Phantom pulled himself from the Watchtower and drifted far enough away for his aura to no longer affect Zatanna. The heroes could only watch in awe as the eel-like god returned to the open ocean of space.

Addition:

There were a giant green eyes observing the conference room. Every hero inside was frozen in place, staring back at the eyes and trying their best not to move a muscle. Phantom had moved from atop the station. Phantom had acknowledged them. Phantom was staring at them from a window of the Watchtower.

No one knew why he was there. Just that suddenly he was. The bright green lighting the entire room with its shine was the only warning they got. They stared. He stared.

Slowly, he moved. A hand-shape pointed with a claw. They were confused. The hand made a pointing motion again.

The table?

Ah. Several shards of kryptonite sat on the table. The topic of the discussion as someone had somehow gotten ahold of the shards and used them against Superman. They needed to know who supplied them.

The hand pointed again.

Why did Phantom want the shards?

Apparently, it wasn’t up to them to question as the pointing hand phased into the room, palm up. Waiting. No one moved for a moment until a white narrowed slit formed in Phantom’s eyes.

Green Lantern was quick to grab the shards (Batman made a token protest, those were his damn it) and placed them in the palm. He shivered as his finger brushed the skin, ice cold washing up and down his spine.

The hand closed, retracted and approached the face. The eyes stared as a large mouth opened (fangs, sharp sharp fangs laid in green) and a tongue popped out. The shards were placed on the tongue and the mouth closed with a sharp crunch.

Phantom grinned almost smugly before he drifted away from the window and back to the top of the Watchtower.

“Did- Did Phantom just ask for a snack?”

[luveline]

What about a lil fic of the first time bombshell reader gets mad at Spencer? Like it can be while they r dating or before and May be r is giving Spencer quiet treatment?

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.3k

Spencer waits for Morgan to get up for a coffee before he gets up himself, tailing his teasing teammate to the microwave. He's hoping Morgan's in a sympathetic mood today, because Spencer is in dire need of some sympathy. 

"Loverboy," Morgan says, his voice steeped in suspicion. "Can I help you with something?"

"Do you know why Y/N's upset?" 

"You don't? You're the expert." 

Spencer rubs at his nose, the beginning of another migraine brewing between his eyes. The gesture draws a little more empathy than his misguided question. 

"You're gonna have to ask her yourself. I don't want her angry at me too, she's gonna fix my computer before Garcia finds out I fell for her phishing email test." 

"I've been asking her. It's making it worse. She won't answer my questions anymore. She just hums." 

"Silent treatment. Yikes." Morgan sips his tea through a grimace. "I mean, you must've done something bad. She's usually so–" 

"Lovely?" 

"–in love with you." Morgan laughs as he wanders off in the direction of the stairs up to Hotch's office. "Same thing."

Spencer decides to make a cup of bribery tea for you. He microwaves a mug of hot water and plunks a bag of your favourite blend in without ceremony, bobbing it up and down as he watches you from over his shoulder. You've moved desks upon request to sit with the rest of the team and opposite Spencer (against Hotch's self-proclaimed better judgement), your things set carefully in contrast to his books, a library's worth teeming on every spare inch. Some have even made their way onto your desk, pristinely stacked in wait of his perusal. It's one small gesture among the hundreds of kind things you do for him. 

"Here," he says, setting the mug down next to your mouse carefully. 

Your anger strikes him. Eyes frosted with an uneasiness he's not partial to, lips, so perfectly painted, screwed into a frown. It's not nice seeing someone he cares about upset with him, worse when he has no idea what it is he's done. 

"You're annoyed at me," he says. You wait for him to continue. "I don't know what I did." 

"That makes it worse." You frown at him. After a few seconds of this—your frowning, his looking sorry and confused— you sigh wretchedly (as in, he's never heard you sound that sad, ever, and he hates it). "Spencer, you stood me up." 

Everything in him goes cold. "No I didn't." 

Your sad frown melds again to anger. "Yes you did! I– I got my hair done at a salon, I bought a new dress, I bragged to all of my friends that my cute coworker was gonna be my date, and none of that mattered because you didn't text me back so I was worried sick all night that you were," —your voice drops to a private whisper— "in trouble somewhere, and then you come into work like nothing happened? Not even a hint of an apology? I thought you wanted to come."  

Your voice burns with embarrassment. Spencer can feel it in his throat, that plucky ache of someone letting you down. 

"That was last night?" he asks quietly. A friend asked you to their charity ball, not as ridiculously fancy as it sounds but an occasion of esteem and important to you nonetheless. "Y/N, I thought that was– I have it in my phone as next month. As November. I'm so sorry." 

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" 

He winces. "I had a migraine… Screens make it worse, and I haven't charged the battery yet because I was coming to work anyways I'm sorry, Y/N, really. I mixed it up. I should've asked you." 

You seem less disheartened at his admission. You cross your arms over your abdomen and lean back a touch in your chair, as if deciding whether he's being truthful. Spencer isn't in the habit of lying to you and anybody could tell you that, so after a few seconds you look away. "I asked you if you were excited yesterday morning. I told you my dress came."  

"I know." He can't believe he's gotten it wrong like this. Anyone can make a mistake, but he imagines you in your new dress with your hair done waiting for him in the cold weather that descended on Virginia last night and his guts twist into a knot. "I didn't piece it together. I didn't… I didn't…" 

Spencer can't remember the last time he let someone he loves down like this. His migraine spikes again like a needle in the eye, fiery agony that has him closing his eyes to cope. 

"Spencer," you say, softly admonishing. "Hey, it's okay." Your chair creaks.

"I'm so sorry," he says through his teeth. 

"I thought you were being a jerk, but I guess I should've known you wouldn't do something like that." You stand up and take his elbow into a very gentle hand. "I'm sorry for giving you the cold shoulder. It was childish. I was just hurt thinking you did it on purpose." 

"Sorry," he says again. "Migraine." 

Your hand rises to his cheek. "Yeah? Sit down, Spence. Take a breather." 

The doctors say that Spencer's migraines are psychosomatic. He doesn't get how something so odious can start from nothing. 

You seem twice as upset but in a different light, ushering him down into your chair. "Don't worry," you say softly, your hand falling into his hair, "I took a great picture. You can still see me in my nice dress." 

You're kidding but he's genuinely glad. Then the pain takes over and he can't see the other side of it for years. 

It only feels like years. 

When he can open his eyes, you've knelt by his chair. He hates to see you getting your pants dirty like that, hates worse that your eyebrows have pinched and the soft plane of your forehead has etched deep with concern. 

"You can still be mad at me," he says under his breath. 

"I'm a little upset," you confess, putting an uncharacteristically tentative hand on his knee. "It sucked, but not as much as this seems to suck for you." You're like an angel, all pretty and wide-eyed at his feet, your hand beginning a short path up his leg, a soft back and forth. "I'm sorry Spencer. I was punishing you for something that wasn't your fault." 

"You didn't know. How could you, I–" He winces as another wave of pain flares behind his eye, blurring your small smile. "I should've charged my phone." 

"Maybe. I can't imagine you had the capacity, Spence. Not if you're like this." 

"Don't just forgive me because I'm in pain." 

"I'm not, I'm forgiving you because even though it really hurt my feelings turning up alone, I'm not cruel enough to blame you now." You squeeze his knee. It's an instant balm, the chronic ache behind his eyes easing ever so slightly. Your forgiveness makes the rest bearable. "Can you forgive me for being so heartless?" you ask lightly. 

Your lips curve demurely around each word. Spencer scrambles to cover your hand with both of his, his neck craned forward. "Of course I forgive you." 

"Thank you." Spencer could collapse. "Drink some of this tea, okay? Maybe drinking something will help."  

Nothing ever helps, but he does it because it's your hands bringing the cup to his lips. 

"I know you looked beautiful," he says between sips. 

"I would've looked better on your arm. Too bad you're getting grievously attacked by your own brain. This is what happens when it gets too big, babe, it's trying to come out of your ears." He's a little sorry to have won you back this way, but mostly so, so relieved. "Anymore of this'll and you'll start messing up the months. Oh, wait!" You laugh as he laughs but soon scramble to apologise when the sound makes his head hurt. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Drink some more tea, sweetheart." 

[natasharswifey]

Happy birthday, by the way 🎂

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Requests open <3

Summary: After a few months of dating, you realise you don't know when Nat's birthday is. She isn't interested in celebrating, and when you ask, she refuses to tell you. But you are very determined.

____☆____

A/N: This is just a little fluff, also my first x reader fic. Love reading em so I thought I'd give it a go :3. Also I find it hard to read Y/N as my name so I'm using [...] instead!

Tags: Just fluff <3

____☆____

"Oh, come on, why won't you just admit it?"

"Because I can't deal with you inviting half of the United States to the tower for a party."

"Exaggeration."

Natasha raises a brow at you. "Oh really? And what about he time you put flyers around about Wanda's party?"

"She was turning 21!"

She gives you a 'really?' look and you know you aren't getting anything out of her. It just didn't make any sense, birthdays were the one day a year where it was all about you. Well that's everyday if you're Tony Stark, but for well functioning members of society it should count as the best day of the year.

"I will not be disclosing that information until I can trust you not to make a huge deal."

"What if I pinky promise?"

"You always overdo it, detka, it's just how you are." She plants a small kiss on your forehead and leaves you on the couch to begin plotting.

___♡___

"And then she said 'you always overdo it', give me a break!"

Wanda looks up from the pot she's stirring and chuckles, "I didn't know half the people the showed up at the tower on my 21st, [.....]"

"I knew I should've gone to Tony, he would get this."

"I don't think asking the most flamboyant Avenger would be very helpful in this situation."

"Right."

"I think you should just leave it, she'll probably tell you eventually." She gently taps a bit of salt into the pot.

"Or..."

"No."

"You didn't even hear me out!"

"I can read minds. It's a terrible idea."

"Firstly, reading Nat's mind to figure out her birthday is literally a flawless plan, and secondly, you're good reading my mind and not hers?"

"Natasha already set her boundaries with me, and plus I don't feel like getting my ass kicked for aiding and abetting."

"Thanks a lot Wands."

"Any time."

If Wanda wasn't going to cooperate then you were simply going to have to enlist the help of a certain blonde assassin.

___♡___

You hear Lucky and Fanny barking hysterically after you ring the doorbell, followed by fast paced footsteps and a small "One minute" from the other side of the door.

Usually a simple question would only warrant a text or phone call, but for some reason Yelena NEVER answers her phone. Unless it's from Kate of course, you're half convinced that she has a special ringtone and notification for her.

It's none other than the archer that answers the door, "Hey, [.....]! I didn't know you were coming over."

"I've actually dropped in unannounced, but I won't stay too long." You reassure her. Kate has a habit of forgetting things, including scheduled hang outs and honestly everything else that isn't attached to her body.

"Come on in!" She steps out of the way and shuts the door behind both of you.

You're immediately greeted by the two large dogs, fighting over your attention in a confusion of wagging tails and paws. Kate tries to get them under control and ultimately fails until they're distracted by Yelena calling them.

"That's totally not fair, they only listen to you." Kate complains and Yelena laughs.

"Because they love me more."

"Lies and deception!" Kate is soon distracted by the golden retriever pulling at her sleeve and gives Yelena a smug look before pouring all of her attention to him.

"Hey, Yelena."

"Hello, [......]. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Uh, I actually had a quick question. When's Natasha’s birthday?"

"Ah. I do not know."

"What?? But you're sisters!"

She shrugs, "She does not want me to know. Birthdays are not really Natasha’s thing, surely you must know that."

"Yeah, I know, it just doesn't make any sense."

"That's Natasha for you."

You sigh in defeat and sit down on one of the armchairs, your lap immediately occupied by Fanny who still wholeheartedly believes she's the size of a puppy.

"Well, there is someone else you could ask."

Your ears perk up, "Who?"

"Melina."

Ah. Melina. It wouldn't be fair to say that she hated you, but it also would be lying to say that she was fond of you. Perhaps you could ask Alexei instead.

___♡___

"Hello? Can you hear me?" You ask over the phone to your future father in law.

"HELLO? ARE YOU THERE, [......]?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"I THINK MY WHATISUP IS BROKEN- MELINA!"

"No, no, Alexei there's really no need."

You hear the sound of footsteps and Melina scolding Alexei for always forgetting to turn up the volume before she picks up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Ah, hello Melina."

"[........]. Do you need something?"

"When's Natasha’s birthday?"

"December third. Is that all?"

"But- that's today."

"I'm aware."

"Well, thank yo-" The phone cuts off before you finish your sentence and you're left with about two hours to plan a surprise party for a spy.

___♡___

"I did it, Wanda!"

"Only took you half the day."

"Okay, hater, I need you to help me surprise her."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"One hundered percent." You reply confidently. For most of the day you'd been discouraged, but now it was time for you to trust your gut.

Soon enough you've formed a team of Kate, Yelena and Wanda gathered in one of the common rooms of the tower.

"Alright, Wanda you can be in charge of snacks, Kate you can do decorations, and Yelena you can find us the cake."

"Can-"

"No it may not have profanities on it."

The blonde sighs but jumps into action with the other two. Now all you have to do is buy them some time.

___♡___

You greet Natasha at the tower's entrance with a huge smile plastered on your face.

"Hi, Nat!"

"Hey, [.......]. How was your day?"

"A little hectic. Wanna go for a walk?"

"I would love to but I need to sleep for at least ten hours straight."

You step in front of Natasha as she starts to head inside, "Wait- Uh, did you know walking actually improves energy levels?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow, "What's up with you?"

"Nothing."

"For some strange reason I do not believe that." She holds you in place by your shoulders and steps around you, but you take her arm and try to steer her to the kitchen, your plans are foiled by Lucky and Fanny who bound up to Natasha happily.

"What are Yelena and Kate's kids doing here? Seriously, what is going on?"

"Uhh."

"Insightful."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She stares you down for a few seconds before suddenly moving towards your shared quarters and only speeds up once she realises you're trying to stop her.

The red head clears the stairs in a few seconds and opens the door, only to be met with pitch black. When she steps through and flicks on the light Wanda, Yelena and Kate jump out from behind the couch and yell "Surprise!".

The look on her face is priceless when she turns to you, "How- when did you-"

"I have my ways."

Natasha pulls you into a tight hug and you hug her back even tighter when you feel a small damp patch forming on your shoulder.

___♡___

"Okay, now make a wish!" Yelena says excitedly, the three of you are crowded around the table where the birthday girl sits in front of her cake.

"Alright, alright." She closes her eyes and blows out the candles, which prompts a cheer from everyone in the room.

The five of you all squish onto the couch to watch a movie and eat snacks and cake, with Natasha curled into your side.

"So, did I 'overdo' it?" You ask playfully.

You hear her chuckle, "It was perfect."

____☆____

Tysm for readinggg, If you liked it I have more stuff in my masterlist :)). Reqs are open!!

Also, if you saw the unfinished version of this when I posted it by accident, no you did not.

@l0nelyish 👁👁

[monstersflashlight]

how about a male kitsune x fem reader. Maybe they are childhood friends and he loves to tease her a lot and acts really cocky all the time but scares away any potencial rival. Unknown to them both their parents who are good family friends ,have been trying to set them up together partly due to the fact of some very old promise their ansestors made or something but won’t force it and see it as if it happens it happens. But male kitsune has a secret, his true form and accidentally shows the reader this while confessing but she reassures she doesn’t care how he looks (if anything she finds him quite handsome like this) and she likes him too. His secret form I guess could go two ways I’m not sure which sounds better 1: she never knew he was a kitsune, and them being childhood friends was really just her playing around with a baby fox that she thought belonged to his family. Or 2: she knew he was a kitsune all along but he has a 3rd form he never showed her this one looking more like a bipedal humanoid fox a form of which not even his family has thus being self conscious of. Thank you so much your writing is really cool!

A/N: Hi! This request was very fun to write, hope any of you mind that I mixed both, made sense in my head. Also, as a great mind said “daddy is a state of mind”, I imagine this story as them being very close in age, like max three years apart. Enjoy!

The nine tails

Kitsune x fem!reader || daddy kink, arranged marriage, mates,

When you thought back to your childhood, you always had blurry memories of an animal. A fox. A white fox that followed you around and played with you when you went out into the garden. Your parents thought you were talking about a plushie or something, but you knew better, there was an actual fox that approached you as soon as you stepped outside. But when you were about twelve, he disappeared.

It hurt you so bad and so profound that you cried for days. You cried and cried and your parents didn’t know what was wrong. Your neighbor came around, a nice lady that you’ve known all your life, the mother of your crush… She said it was a pain of heart, and also disappeared. It was ominous and weird, and it woke you off a stupor that you didn’t know you were into.

You woke up and kept living. Even when your friend, your crush, left, you kept going.

And kept going.

When past your twenties, your parents announced that you were to marry an unknown person, or not so unknown. When you walk to the altar and see your long forgotten childhood friend… you are lost of words. You are so confused you dissociate through all ceremony. Before you realize you were married and living with a man you thought forgot about you.

You are calling him husband and he’s calling you wife, and your life is boring. You came back to your house one day, a bit earlier than anticipated because you signed a big contract and you want to go out for dinner with your husband, even if you barely talk. But what awaits for you there is not what you expected.

There’s a white fox in your living room. A white fox that turns into a human, a very naked human in the form of your husband. You gape at him, speechless.

You turn around to leave when he stops you. “Wait! Hear me out, I…”

But then it clicks. “You are the fox,” you deadpan.

“What?” He’s as surprised as you.

“The fox from my memories. It’s you.” Everything starts making sense, why they left, what his mother said when you were a kid.

“I- I thought you didn’t remember that,” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

“Of course I do, it broke my heart when you disappeared. I was so sad my parents bought me a puppy.” He doesn’t answer, staring at you like you grew a new head. You look into his sad eyes and can’t hold back anymore: “Why did you leave me?” Your question is filled with sadness and disappointment, the wound that you thought forgotten is once again open and bleeding. You thought you could get over the fox leaving, probably something to do with nature, but knowing it was him… That it was him who abandoned you…

“I’m sorry. I- They told me I had to. I couldn’t keep visiting you because I could throw everything into the wind if my fox got too attracted to you. So I pulled away, but it pained me, it pained me so much I could barely transform for so long after I stopped seeing you. And then we moved away and I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His voice is broken as he explains, his words rushed as if he’s trying to convince you as much as he tries to convince himself.

And you get a new realization at that. “That’s why you came back? That’s why you married me? Not because they signed some papers when we were not even born?” You ask for confirmation.

“Of course not! I love you. Always have. Always will,” he tells you, eyes filled with tears and emotions showing in every twitch of his body. You stare at him, so moved by his words that you just stare. You stare for so long that he starts to squirm and moves to walk away, accepting your silence as a rejection.

But this time is you who stop him: “Then make love to me until I can’t walk anymore. Breed me until I can’t think of anything else. Fuck me until the sad memories disappear and I can only think of you inside of me,” you pronounce the filthy words as if your life depends on it. As if his body and his soul are what you crave more than air.

He chuckles, swallowing back his tears as he tells you: “You can’t say that and look at me directly, or this would end sooner than expected.” You look down at the same time as he does, seeing his dick twitching and growing hard in front of your eyes.

“Does me saying dirty things arouse you, daddy?” His groan is so loud and desperate that you have to bite back your own moan.

You throw your clothes off your body like a soul followed by death and stare at him, naked in all your glory, as his eyes flash in different colors and his ears morph into fox-like ones. And then you see his half form, his tails behind him, all nine of them swinging as he approaches you slowly, making you grin at him until you are chest to chest. He grabs you by the waist, holding you thigh as he lowers his head and kisses you in the most dominating way ever. Your knees give out under you, but he grabs your ass and pushes you up, inviting you to wrap them around his middle.

He gropes your ass as he grinds his dick up to your wet center. You keep whispering “daddy daddy daddy” as he rocks your body against his. He’s as desperate as you are, your kisses consuming, trying to get your love across his lips. Trying to show him all the longing and pain that he caused you, as he tries to kiss it away. It’s intoxicating and deep, so emotional and intense that you are breathless.

When he finally pushes his dick inside your dripping cunt, you shiver with the force of the sensation. He pushes your body against the wall, plastering himself against your front as he leaves your mouth to kiss your neck, leaving marks as he goes.

He fucks you against the wall, desperate, uncoordinated… and perfect. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant over and over, his dick hitting that special place inside of your pussy that makes you see stars.

You start to shake in his arms. “Are you going to come for daddy? Are you going to make a mess out of your pretty pussy for me?” You nod eagerly, biting his neck and making him cry out as the first shoot of cum hit you deep inside, hot as lava.

You groan as your own orgasm rocks your body, convulsing against his arms as his tails caress your legs like the softest touch. It drives you to a new level, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucks you through your aftershocks. He breathes hard against your neck, biting softly with his long fangs.

“You are so good, such a good girl for daddy,” he keeps whispering soft things against your ear as you come down, breathing hard and blushing harder than ever. He kisses your sweaty forehead as he walks you to the bathroom, not letting you go as he runs you a bath.

[inupibaldspot]

Sunglasses

Paring : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note: My Blue Eyed King is indeed handsome without his glasses, it even makes you who is so oblivious realize your feelings for him.

“No Shoko.” Gojo’s face had as frown on his face as he stands near the alley way. Shoko really needed a smoke break but then the closest smoking zone was still a considerable distance away so here they were, in an alleyway Shoko smoking with Gojo as company. “I think I have been very obvious by now.”

“No shit, I think even Yaga knows by now”Shoko let’s out a chuckle. “Buts it’s also funny how oblivious y/n is.”

Shoko smiles as Gojo’s face contours in a frown further. She remembers when Gojo took a sip from your drink followed by a wink and despite Shoko giving a snide remark of ‘Wow~ An indirect kiss!’, you were pouting saying Gojo was after your drinks and scrambled away, hiding behind Geto.

“Even yesterday, we were in Harajuku.” Gojo huffs as Shoko takes a final drag from her cigarette and crushes the item beneath her feet. “I won a pop-ring from the pachinko and put it in her ring finger; RING FINGER!”

The duo starts walking back to where you and Geto were sitting at, Gojo still yapping away recalling the recent incident. “You know what y/n did? That idiot pulled it from their finger, bit the candy from the handle, threw the ring handle away and said it was inconvenient to eat candy that way.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t like having things around their fingers and wrist.” Shoko smiles as Gojo huffs in frustration. “Have you maybe tried confessing?”

Gojo looks as her as if she had grown two heads. “Why do you think I was ignoring them for 2 days last month?”

“Pfft… You sulked only for two days?”

“Yeah, they called me over to their room to play Mario kart.”

Shoko cackled thinking how Gojo really can’t ever be genuinely upset at you,ever but smiles as she sees Geto and you not too far away. You were standing behind Geto and your hands were combing through his hair, Geto sitting comfortably with his eyes closed,undoubtedly a bit drowsy. “Your love of your life is being taken away though.”

Gojo follows his friend’s line of sight and sees what’s was going on making him screech. “Geh!”

You were combing your hands through Geto’s hair. Geto who always had his bun high and tight in the morning would always start to slouch and become slightly messy towards the evening, so you being a good friend offered to help.

Geto denied it at first. Gojo would blow a fuse if he sees his crush so close to him. But on second thought, Gojo did eat the yogurt he had saved up so it was a good chance for a payback so he agrees.

“Suguru!” Gojo slides infront of him in great speed, a trail of dust behind him. “That’s breaking bro code!”

To which Geto just sticks his tongue out with a smug look on his face. You tilt your head in confusion. What’s Satoru going on about? You think as your hands still. “I’m fixing his hair,Satoru.”

“Let me help you then.” Gojo scoots your away gently, as he then takes over making Geto’s hair as his hands swiftly takes over. “Done!”

Geto stills frozen for a second as he sat with his hair in a twin tail, his bangs covering one side of his face as usual with a proud looking Gojo beside him. He looks stupid. This make you and Shoko burst out laughing.

A nerve pops from Geto’s forehead and he swiftly swings his fist.

*Smash!*

“Ah!”

That’s how you guys ended up in a glasses shop, after Geto swings his fist on Gojo his fist collided with his face which in turn breaks the Gojo’s sunglasses.

“How about this?” You stand on the ball of your feet as your outstretched your hand to put on a sunglass on Gojo.

Gojo stops breathing for a second on how close you were to him, the tip of his ears felt hot. You put him a heart shaped pink glass, stupid he know but when sees you slump back and giggle, he thinks it’s worth it.

Geto and Shoko looks away from the pair. We’ll give you two space. Shoko has whispered to him and they walk around the store keeping a distance.

“Yeah yeah.” Gojo sings and you still continue laughing; he brings his hands to the frame of the glasses and removes it. “I know I look handsome but let’s get serious.”

You nod at him, your face still had a dust of red due to laughing. “Fine I’ll pick out a good one.”

“Ah! Look at that guy~”

“The white hair one…He is so tall!”

“Kyaa~ He looks so dreamy.”

Gojo puffs his chest in pride. This wasn’t old news at all as he always knew he was a good looking guy. He may have actually missed this kind of attention since no one at Jujutsu High would react like that.

“Try this one.” Your stiff voice breaks him from his thoughts as you once again put him a glasses; another stupid one where the frame was shaped like a flower.

“Listen.” Gojo says. “Let’s pick a proper one.”

“Why?” His heart skips a beat as your lips turn into a pout, your eyes look at him as if you were a puppy. “You like the girls fawning over you?”

“Wha-“

Before Gojo could respond, you held the cuff of his shirt as you pull him towards Shoko and Geto.

“Ehh~ He had a girlfriend.”

“That’s boring.”

Gojo gulps loudly as he racks through his brain. No way? But then you- Damn I really don’t want to get too confident. He thinks as Gojo then opens his mouth.

“Hey? Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” He tries to keep his tone in his usual teasing one but there was a slight tremble at the end.

“I-“ You swiftly turn around, your eyes was nervously wandering as you try to look into his eyes, face increasingly red ; Gojo wished he could kiss you then and there. “I just- I guess I am.”

Gojo stills as he then breaks into a series of laughter. What the hell, all these time of him pinning on you, trying to make you realize the Gojo Satoru loves you and all it took was some random group of girls gushing over him?

“Fuck.” Gojo covers his huge grin on his face with his hands, and maybe the blush aswell as he then warps his hand around your waist and twirls you around . “You’re so fucking cute.”

[suntoru]

─ ✰ COUNTDOWN TO YOUR LOVE!!

✧˚ · . 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 most definitely does not have a crush on his best friend. so what’s this feeling when somebody else is planning on confessing to you?

— warnings: oblivious gojo af, fluff, mild violence, might be ooc, please be nice i have only watched like the first episode of jjk, idk what else

— author’s note: is it shittily written? yes. but is it finished? also yes. HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES &lt;;33

“guys, guys, brace yourself for the tea i have!! nanamin is gonna confess to y/n tonight at the new years party!!”

“huh?! seriously?” nobara gasps theatrically, her eyes widening in interest. she springs up from the couch, tail -imaginary or not-wagging in anticipation as she eagerly leans in for the juicy gossip.

*chokes* "...what?" gojo gags on his tea, coughing violently. he's surely joking. there's no way. "y/n, as in like, my best friend, y/n?"

“i know, right? i was surprised too!! after all, i was sure mister nanami was more interested in marrying his paperwork than finding real love, but that’s what i heard!” yuji spills, enthusiasm radiating from every word.

"that's... great." gojo manages to mutter, and for once, he has nothing ese to say.

“it’s about time, he’s pushing thirty, and he’s still single… as the youngsters say, he has… L rizz.” nobara laughs boisterously with her hands on her hips, thoroughly entertained by her own joke. meanwhile, yuji cocks his head in confusion at his friend's delusions. …is she going senile?

“well, aren’t you also single…?”

'hush, yuji! the point is, there's gonna be some spicy drama!" nobara squeals, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "we're talking romance unraveling like a well-scripted k-drama!! get ready for some flashy love confessions, and hopefully, a heart-fluttering kiss scene!!"

11: 56 PM

fuck, why can't i focus? gojo groans as he loses yet another round of mario kart to nobara. the image of you lingers in his mind from earlier that day, engaged in conversation with the blonde. he can't ignore the subtle indications; your flustered demeanor, a slight tint of pink on your cheeks, your refusal to make eye contact. clear signs of a crush. you surely like him back, there's no denying it.

and he should be happy for his friend— should be, but all he can feel is an unexplainable tightness that grips his chest, like a weight he can't shake off. he can't quite put a pin on it, it's an unknown emotion, but it all feels ugly nonetheless. it must have been something he ate earlier. ...yeah, that's it.

as he tries to ignore the overwhemling feeling of dispair, his attention flickers to the lively scene, and there you are, donning one of those goofy 2024 glasses that make your whole demeanor even more endearing. a lopsided smile graces your face as you engage in cheerful banter with megumi, and just like that, a fuzzy feeling envelops him, coaxing a smile to creep up on his face involuntarily. but before he can revel in the moment, a sudden flick on his forehead disrupts his thoughts.

"hey— ow, what was that for?" he whines, rubbing his forehead and directing a puzzled gaze towards utahime.

"you're so dense." she huffs in annoyance, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at his apparent obliviousness. he looks up at her, confusion etched across his features.

"i- huh? whaddya mean by that?" he stares at her in confusion. utahime sighs in exasperation, irritation visible. "how stupid are you? do i have to spell it out for you? you. like. y/n." the words hang in the air. ...i ... like... y/n...?

and then it hits him like a brick wall. the reason behind stinging feeling in his chest. you being with nanami meant no more midnight snack runs, no more drunken gossip sessions, no more attempts to fluster you. those simple pleasures, the serotonin rush sparked by your mere smile, threaten to slip away.

the thought of losing you; his best friend, his one and only, shakes him to the bottom of his core. his heart, like a drum, pounds in his chest, a resounding beat of denial and awakening. ...no way... he couldn't... does he...?

could he truly say that the way he always seems to gravitate towards you in group gatherings, the way his eyes subconsciously find their way towards yours, the sudden surge of warmth he gets when you praise him was all truly platonic? perhaps he didn't acknowledge it before, but his heart has long declared what he only now comprehends: he loves you. he loves you.

he's loved you ever since you were five and he was seven, when you announced proudly to everyone that you were now his best friend for life. he's loved you when you were eleven and he was thirteen, when you sought refuge in his arms, tears streaming down your face because of a bully. he's loved you when you were eighteen and he was twenty, hung up on some random jerk who didn't even treat you right.

his eyes dart over to where nanami is, pacing closer towards you— he's going to lose everything if he doesn't move.

he can't lose you.

so he runs across the large room, dashing towards you, heaving and huffing. "FIVE!" everybody begins to chant. "gojo?" you good? need something?" "FOUR!" your voice is soft and sweet, like a honeyed daydream, etched with concern. how could he not have realized, it was you all along? it was always going to be you. "THREE!" "hey." he says breathlessly. "yeah?" you mumble, curious as to what he was about to say next. "TWO!" "slap me if you hate it." "hate what?" "ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!"

he pulls you towards him, using both hands to grab your face, planting a passionate on your plush lips, your eyes widening as everybody else cheers knowingly.

bonus!! earlier:

"you like him. gojo."

nanami simply states, a ghost of a smile on his lips. you feel your face heat up. how did he know? was it that obvious? that's so embarrassing... oh my god. you can't look him in the eye, you just want to shrivel up and disappear in the ground... "you're both so stupidly oblivious." he mutters under his breath.

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[dadsbongos]

cycle & jerk

5k words / warnings - pinv sex (unprotected, creampies), breeding kink, light choking, hair pulling, chilchuck's a mean dirty old man, heat cycle, i haven't written in awhile so like. idk don't execute me if this isn't a slay

summary - you are a rat-half foot-hybrid mix, king of the junjile but still social and fierce, and you go into heat and chilchuck can smell it (ew) and he's the only one that can help

~~~

Huffy panting causes Chilchuck to stir in his bedroll. A whine muffled into thin fluff, then the gentle drag of scratchy blankets catching on clothes as a lump grows more apparent beside him. Shyly, a hand wanders from clutching his arm to petting down his chest -- pausing at his belt and scrunching his shirt with a hearty groan. He watches quietly, heart thumping into his chest because he’s just not sure how to breach this.

Stupidly he’d assumed he still had more time. Looking back, he’s genuinely unsure as to why he ever thought that. The signs were there that tonight was his culling, weren’t they? He should’ve been more prepared.

four days prior.

Despite only servicing a single party in your entire adventuring career (and only wanting the one), you have a very strict set of dates in which you’re unavailable for work. Yet this month, regardless of his numerous efforts, your party leader has kept you in the dungeon past expiration.

“I told you I needed out of here before today, didn’t I?”

“You did…”

“And where am I?”

“Still here…”

To his credit, Laios appears earnestly ashamed -- hands folded in his lap and head bent to avoid looking you in the eye. He murmurs soft apologies, even as your attention is called across the room by Marcille.

“Take it easy,” she coos, which only infuriates you further, “What’s so important that you have to be so mad, anyway?”

“It’s basic decency,” you throw an arm out at your side, gesturing to your fellow half-foot on the right, “Chilchuck, back me up!”

“She’s right,” Chilchuck shrugs, “Although it sounds unfair to put all the blame on Laios.”

“I can’t leave before we’re done here,” you grumble, swiveling to face him fully (Laios sighs in gratitude that your wrath has been directed elsewhere), “I don’t get paid upfront, you know?”

“Huh, wonder if there was some way you could’ve fixed that.”

“I only work with Laios, why would I need to join a union?”

“Scab,” he coughs, far more teasing than of genuine frustration.

“Maybe we could help get you back to the surface if you told us what the problem was!” Marcille rolls around onto her hands, eyes wide in curiosity, “C’mon, share! Light a fire under us!”

“It’s embarrassing,” you scooch closer to Chilchuck before sagging against the wall, joining him on the ground. You fail to notice when he flinches at your proximity, “My business is my own.”

“Best leave it alone,” Senshi agrees, “We’ll just have to stay outta your way ‘til we’re done here.”

“Well, don’t avoid me,” you continue to scoff, watching as Izutsumi rustles along Chilchuck’s lap just to bat at your rounded ears with both paws, “Izutsumi, don’t touch those.”

She hisses quietly, only diverting her attention so far as your tail sandwiched between yours and Chilchuck’s thighs. You allow her to malleate the flesh, only because she makes no off-hand comments about how strangely cool the skin is (just the memory makes you glare over at Laios again, who cowardly shrinks back).

“You’re irritable today,” Chilchuck glances at you warily, tone equally cautious.

“And?”

His back slides down the wall until he’s nestled fully into his bedroll and turned away from you onto his side, “Nothing.”

Izutsumi hums quietly, head plopping into your lap, you two exchange confused glances before collectively deciding to let his sudden retirement go.

Since that night, Chilchuck has been avoiding you. You’re certain.

Initially, you’d attempted to rationalize it as a sense of hysteria, that you were simply hyper aware of his presence after the incident shared with Izutsumi. Until more incidents began compiling atop each other, and you were unable to pass them as individual misunderstandings.

Such as that next morning.

“Oh, you getting water?” Chilchuck rose from his slump against the far wall, gaze honed on Laios.

Your leader nods before thumbing towards you, “Yep. Found a small fountain across the hall. Wanna come?”

Chilchuck looks at you, blinking stupidly, before shaking his head, “I’ll probably wait until we set camp again.”

Then there was lunchtime.

“You’re so far away…” Marcille whines, stretching her arm out as if to manhandle Chilchuck back towards the rest of your party.

“There’s no room over there.”

Everyone stares at him for that, Izutsumi curling into your side protectively while Laios points down at the gaping space between you and Senshi with his plate. He grins, full of heart and goodwill, “There’s room right there, Chil’.”

“Oh,” Chilchuck’s shoulders slack, body unenthusiastically scooting across the floor until he’s awkwardly inserted beside you. Noticeably closer to Senshi than you, chuckling distantly and gazing solely into his food, “Duh. Didn’t notice that.”

Izutsumi smacks her lips in a rush to swallow her bite before contradicting, “You were staring at that spot for five minutes.”

“Thought you were gonna take it,” he recovers quickly, then promptly shutting his mouth the rest of lunch.

And the next day.

Anytime you spoke, he’d find an exit from the conversation. He’d conveniently need to speak with Laios, or Marcille, or Izutsumi, or Senshi whenever you approached. Not to mention how glaringly obvious the physical space between you was, whereas he usually traveled towards the middle of the pack with you he’s now suddenly braving the front alongside Laios.

Each effort on your part to shut down tension was swiftly dodged, only managing to thicken the strain between you.

Until that night:

“I’m heading for the bathroom,” Chilchuck rises from his bedroll with a yawn.

“Want me to go with?” Laios offers.

“No,” but his kindness is wasted on Chilchuck, who grimaces at the thought of pissing with a silently listening Laios.

Laios frowns over at you, “But it’s dark out there, I would’ve kept him safe.”

“He’ll live,” you retort, frustration with the lockpick boiling over into an eye roll.

You feel a lithe finger dig into your thigh, finding Marcille turned onto her tummy in her blanket, “You could go confront him now. He’ll have no excuses with nobody else around.”

Figures someone as invasive as Marcille is so invested in yours and Chilchuck’s recent friction.

“Yeah, I’ll just go up behind him while he’s peeing. Great idea.”

“Scare him into submission,” Izutsumi adds, though betraying you by selfishly occupying Chilchuck’s mat across the room. She snuggles into the warmth he’s left behind, yawning loudly -- looking about three seconds from drifting into slumber.

“There’s ale stocks along the way,” Senshi now joins the conversation, and is arguably the most helpful, “Some of ‘em bound to be full. He won’t turn down a drink.”

“Huh,” you tease the idea further. Even if by some uncharacteristic possession, Chilchuck does refuse the offer of alcohol, you can always beat him with the bottle. Knock him out to tie down and force out answers once he’s awake, “That could work…”

You replay that very thought process in your head as you await for Chilchuck to wander back down the hall. You passed as far as the corridor after the ale shelves before realizing how strange lingering outside the bathroom is, then deciding to sit with your back to the wall. Not long now, Chilchuck will be right in front of you.

He won’t jump back in shock, either. He’s heard you walking, you know he did because you heard him pause, sigh, and continue at a much, much slower pace. You’d almost be swooning over how he could discern it was you by your walk, if only there wasn’t such a vexing reason for you to be out here.

At least you have the advantage, your superior rodent vision can make him out in the pitch dark, meanwhile he’s relying on estimation as to where you are. If you wanted, you could probably just throw the ale at his head and get the knocking-him-unconscious bit over with.

“Okay,” he sighs again, louder, arms folded across his chest, “What?”

“Me what? How about you what?”

Chilchuck leans his head away from you, as if he can’t so much as stand to look at you, “What’re you talking about?”

“Just sit,” when he makes no such move, you lift one bottle in your hand, swirling the dark liquid inside, “I brought a bribe just to be nice, don’t let it go to waste.”

“Where’d you get that?” his curiosity blocks out his better instinct, sitting at your side to snatch up the bottle. You can see the instant he regrets it -- his nose wrinkles up and he swallows harshly, “Okay, what do you want?”

You ‘hpmh’ at his testy tone, letting him stew in the unpleasant silence before he’s uncorking the bottle and taking his first gulp. His nonchalance is more irritating than his avoidance; now he wants to insist you’re the weird one when he was dodging you as some toxic, erratic creature. Rage spurs you to your feet, swinging around to stand directly in front of him.

“You’re avoiding me, I know you are!” in retrospect, you will be glad you’re so far from the party so you two can yell without disturbing them.

“I am not!”

“Stop being defensive, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!”

“I can’t,” Chilchuck grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes, face blooming red. That tangy aroma usually hidden until it was right under his nose, flooding his mouth. It was now overpowering your usual scent, and he assumes the only reason you’re so oblivious is because your own advanced smelling has grown blind to it, “It’s nothing you can fix. I’m just cursed with heightened senses.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?!” you stumble back, arms curling around your stomach, “No way! You can…”

.

.

.

Oh, God.

“Yep.”

Oh, God, no.

“Gross!”

Chilchuck shrugs, tilting the ale against his lips and murmuring into tinted glass, “Usually it's only the bloody part we can pick up on, but uh,” he sips the bitter liquid, clearly hesitant to finish his thought until your curious hum encourages him, “I guess beastkin are more… potent…”

“Ew!”

“I didn’t want to finish saying it!”

“But you did,” you gag, “You’re a pervert, phrasing it all nasty like that.”

“What? Would you rather me say it how Laios would?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” you go rigid suddenly, heart seizing at the mention of Laios, “He can’t find out about this.”

“Agreed, it’d be disgusting to hear him ask all those personal questions.”

“So,” you emphasize, clasping your hands nervously, “I need to get it taken care of before I become a problem.”

Chilchuck freezes. Eyes drifting slowly from his bottle to your pinched face, “No.”

“What?”

“No. Ask Senshi or Marcille -- hell! Knock out two problems in one swoop and have Laios help! He’ll leave you alone for the rest of your life if he can get all his questions out now.”

“I wasn’t saying that,” you totally were, and you should’ve known better due to his aversion to interpersonal party-relationships, “Just, I dunno, keep me away from the others.”

“Why me?” he groans.

“You’re the only one who knows…”

“What about Izutsumi? Can’t she be your guard?”

“No! I wanna preserve my positive image in her mind as long as I can.”

Chilchuck scowls, polishing off the bottle with a loud gulp and rolling the neck between his hands, “Guess this is why we never saw you around this time.”

“Uh-huh…”

“And you’re gonna be miserable down here until it's over.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it’ll only be worse once you actually go into heat.”

“I know, Chilchuck, I’m thirty -- I know how my own heats work.”

You watch confirmed and suspected information sink in for him: Chilchuck was surprised to meet you upon joining the party, as far as he’d heard from whispered tales beastmen looked human most of their lives. Yet you’ve got large, circular ears with a light layer of fur, a pudgy button nose that twitches, and a fleshy tail unfurling to your ankles. You store fat easier than any other half-foot he’s ever met, your legs are stronger and faster than any other half-foot, too.

As terrible as it sounds out of context, your body fascinates him. Not to liken himself to Laios, but well… Ideally this could be his perfect excuse to fully explore, he could have so many questions answered.

Are there humanoid ears hidden behind your hair? Does the peach fuzz on your tail match what courses over your thighs and arms? Has the strength of a rat’s jaw proportionally stretched to your own, like with your legs? Is your whole body warm like a humanoid or cool like your tail? Do you only leave every other month because your rat heat is worse than your human ovulation?

Would having sex with you be like with any other half-foot, or would you be a completely new experience?

Have your strange circumstances forced you into a romantic stasis, making you vulnerable and sensitive to his experienced hands?

If he refuses you now, would you take the bait and ask Laios for help instead?

“Laios seriously doesn’t know about this? At all?”

“I’m sure he knows menstruation exists,” and by proxy ovulation, “but no, I haven’t mentioned my heat.”

“I would’ve thought he’d constantly ask about your… anatomy…”

“Honestly, I think it’s why he approached me to join his party, but I told him off after the first weird question,” you laugh quietly at the memory, “Funny enough, he didn’t seem weird. Most men that approached me were dogs, so meeting him was a relief. Never wanted to work for someone else after our first dive together.”

Chilchuck nods slowly, smoothing the pad of his thumb across the emptied bottle and staring into his dark, murky reflection, “You’ve been in the party longest. You gotta be fond of the guy by now.”

No, he corrects, judging by how you phrased it -- you’ve always been fond of him.

“I guess…” you shrug, “but I’m not fond fond,” you cross your arms defensively, humiliated chills racing up your arms at his unspoken rejection, “I could be, if you’re so adverse. It doesn’t have to be you, Chilchuck. Sorry for asking something so intimate.”

Chilchuck lays the bottle down, shaking his head as he stands, “Don’t ask that dolt. I’ll help.”

“Really?”

More questions infiltrate his mind, unwelcomed as they are interesting.

Do you squeal or huff when you cum? Are you the type to leave scratches? Do you bite (and thus, back to the jaw strength thing)? Would you let him yank your hair? Your tail? Both?

“Thanks, Chilchuck,” you feel the inexplicable need to whisper your appreciation, as if raising your voice could somehow rouse his testy attitude and result in backtracking.

“You should call me Chil.”

“Huh?”

“It’d be awkward to hear my whole name during sex. That’s about as close as people can get, right?”

“Oh!” you’re taken aback. You thought he was against that, though clearly…

His face is flushed (however his decisive speech and sturdy stance negate any intoxication allegations), and you can almost make out the thump of his heartbeat in the filling silence. Or maybe that part is your imagination. Maybe you’re hoping his heart is racing as fast as yours.

“When would be best?” he clears his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt as though it's choking him, “Now?”

“No!” you cry, mostly out of shock he’s that willing, “No, it wouldn’t do anything now since I’m not… you know. Yet. We’ll have to wait.”

“How long?”

“Not sure. This is why I like to be at home during.”

“I get it,” he runs a hand down the length of his face, hissing quietly in exasperation, “I hate playing these things by ear.”

“‘These things’?” you chuckle as Chilchuck’s face goes red at the implication, he storms past you praying you drop his slip-up, “You do this kind of thing often?”

“Shut up.”

“So, you’re just the guy to go to, then! I should come to you every other month!”

“Shut up!”

…

“Glad to see you two made up,” Marcille’s cheery tone is the first to rake through the room next morning, “Though…”

You’re practically draped over Chilchuck’s back, already feeling your body temperature climbing unnaturally. He’s patting your sweltering cheek sympathetically, allowing you to burrow your face into the bend of his neck. And you’re pressing your chest obnoxiously into his back.

“You’re a bit close,” she teases in a quiet giggle.

Chilchuck rolls his eyes, biting back any replies to avoid unintentionally spilling your secret.

He turns, lips brushing your temple as he whispers to you, “How’re you doing? I could probably lie to Laios and- “

“No,” you whine, embarrassment evident in how you curl your arms tighter around his waist and shuffle closer, “I can’t right now, that’s so… weird.”

“Sure, that would be weird.”

That night, both you and Chilchuck jammed into an off-room from the rest of your party. You two having made the escape after everyone else fell asleep to avoid questions about why you were separating yourselves.

He chooses not to comment on how you strip down to only your panties before falling asleep.

…

Huffy panting causes Chilchuck to stir in his bedroll. A whine muffled into thin fluff, then the gentle drag of scratchy blankets catching on clothes as a lump grows more apparent beside him. Shyly, a hand wanders from clutching his arm to petting down his chest -- pausing at his belt and scrunching his shirt with a hearty groan. He watches quietly, heart thumping into his chest because he’s just not sure how to breach this.

Stupidly he’d assumed he still had more time. Looking back, he’s genuinely unsure as to why he ever thought that. The signs were there that tonight was his culling, weren’t they? He should’ve been more prepared.

While he’s internally debating the ethics of chickening out on his promise to you, you’re suffering. Bad.

Sweat clings along the back of your neck and all down your molten face. Worse than that heat, is the one between your thighs. You’ve been duly rubbing at yourself through your panties for the better half of eternity, earnestly hoping to deal with this yourself rather than following through with using Chilchuck. That in itself is proof you’re barely in your right mind, masturbating has never worked before -- obviously it won’t now.

All it succeeds in is making you wetter and messier.

A little physical stimulation, you reason, can’t be bad. So you faintly trail a hand over Chilchuck’s soft stomach, pausing before his crotch and feeling your chest pound at the thought:

Below his navel is his penis.

Then there’s the next thought:

His penis should be inside you.

You moan quietly, eyes clenched shut and cheek smushing into your bedroll. Were you not preoccupied with the broiling in your stomach, you’d probably be feeling the ache in your knees holding up your weight. Your back arched and rear presented for mounting.

Just as you’re delirious enough with desperation to shake Chilchuck awake, he’s turning onto his side and carding stray hairs from your damp face. Fire licks up his fingertips and he frowns, “You’re warm.”

“Chil,” relief fills you at his voice, something else filling the seat of your underwear. The hand on his tummy winds up to the collar of his shirt, you fumble with the top button, “Chil, can you- ? Please, I feel so fucking hot, Chil. I need you.”

Chilchuck casts the others a brief glance through the door before pushing up onto his elbows, one hand joining yours between your legs. He swallows harshly at the warmth, slithering beneath the waistband of your panties to skim his fingertips directly along your pussy. You push back into his hand with a mewl, near the point of gasping for breath at the new sensation of a man’s fingers pressing inside you.

“Slipped right in,” he muses, tilting his head to be level with yours, “So wet and ready, you should’ve woken me up before. Could’ve saved you the embarrassment.”

Anything impactful like words and vowels is slurred as you rock into Chilchuck’s hand, bottom lip tugged between your teeth. The pads of his fingers dive towards the pouch of your stomach, curling in search of one specific spot.

You gasp sharply and buck back, unabashedly and with no care if it catches bleary eyes from the other room, making him sure he’s found it. His other hand juts out to press up on your tummy, only aiding the pressure of his fingers inside you.

“Not- uh! - not gonna finish like this, Chil,” you whine pathetically, batting your lashes at him wetly.

“Who said anything about that?” he slips his fingers out of you, then swishing the soaked digits around your clit just to hear you try, and fail, to muffle a squeal into your pillow, “Finish: like it's a job. I’m trying to watch you squirm like the bitch in heat you are.”

You hadn’t assumed he was the type, given his opposition to being personal. His consistent, almost annoyingly thorough, separation of business and pleasure. This (apparently incorrect) observation stems from how you also hadn’t assumed he was the type to be curious about you.

Chilchuck teases your slit to watch if you'll try smothering more moans by biting your mat. He inches his face to yours, listening for pinched curses and wails. Eyes trail down your face to your chest, studying the way it pillows against the bedroll. He feels every part the creep he accused Laios of being.

“You're so sensitive,” he notes, shuffling onto his knees behind you, shoving his pants midway down his thighs, “What? Not used to this?”

You swat at him in protest, though still humping pathetically. Every twitch and moan is based on pure instinct, you’ve got no clue how to intentionally be sexy -- you’re just praying Chilchuck is too hypnotized by your cunt for your inexperience to be glaringly obvious. Between work and the fetishizing of both your race and curse, a partner has been hard to find: making you a rare half-foot approaching your golden years as a virgin.

Chilchuck lubes the head of his cock with your syrupy wetness before sliding inside, hands playing the fat of your hips. He lets out a low groan, one hand groping from your side up the curve of your ass and along your spine before winding in your hair. His fingers slot around the roots, taking the base of your skull to use as leverage while he fucks you.

He can make out the choked sound of you tempering a moan by sinking your teeth into cushion. You reach back, nails snagging his exposed thigh to anchor him deep inside your wetly clicking cunt. Chilchuck wrangles your back against his chest by your hair, placing his hand over your mouth as a muzzle. Hot breaths fan the soft skin of his palm, skin slapping skin slowly growing louder in a way that should make Chilchuck more careful than it does.

Rather, he speeds up, hand on your hip rounding to circle your sloshed, swollen clit.

“Just shut up and take it,” he grunts, releasing your mouth to seize your throat, until ribbed tissue presses into his palm.

Gagged whimpers and gasps die as sputters in the pit of your chest, Chilchuck biting and sucking your neck to silence his own wanton crowing.

Every glide out of you is met with your violent heat and need sucking him back in. Your head swivels, putty nose rolling against his cheek as you press sloppy kisses along his cheek.

Heeding your frantic, whispered pleas, Chilchuck shifts to return your kisses. Tongue against tongue, hands pulling your bodies into one sticky tangle.

“Gonna let me breed you?” he growls, using his weight over you to suddenly pin you against your bedroll. Your wetness dripping toward the mat, down his wrist, and along his pelvis, “Gonna give me a baby? Make me a daddy?” your ass perks up, tail coiling around his thigh to tether him, he chuckles cruelly down at you, “Yeah, such a good mousy cunt for me. Open and wet, taking my cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, gasping aloud now only for Chilchuck’s hand around your neck to return to your face -- two of his fingers depressing your tongue. Even with the obvious attempt to hush you, you call to him. Garbled, braindead slews of pleas for his cum and begging for (somehow) more attention.

“Is this really all your heat, or are you just such a secret slut?” your whine and clenching stir him up, gooey and compliant and bursting at the seams just for you, “Trying to be all cute, asking for help,” his thrusts quicken when you arch back, hand snatching around his at your clit, “If you wanted to be my cumslut, you could’ve fucking said so.”

You bury your face into your makeshift bed, muffling something in the mat, and Chilchuck yanks your head up by your hair,

“What was that, slut?”

Your thighs are quivering, cunt gushing around him, chest pounding erratically with the need for air, “Just want your cum, Chil!”

Chilchuck stills against you, shuddering and cock heavy in your gut as he cums inside you--

Not that you’re finished yet.

“So good!” you sing, welcoming the reprieve and stubbornly tucking Chilchuck deeper inside you despite him being spent. He throws his head back, eyes rolling in his skull as you continue, “Just a bit more, Chil, please, please, please!”

“Desperate whore,” he slumps forward, biting your shoulder before whirring onto his back, “You do the work now, if you’re so fuckin’ greedy.”

“So mean,” you pout, though the complaint doesn’t deter you from sinking onto his cock like this.

“You’re gonna fuck me asleep,” Chilchuck is courteous enough to languidly snap his hips up into yours, “Needy, desperate bitch.”

For as much as he teases you -- he’s on the brink of tears from overstimulation, voice clipped and throat raw with the need to cry.

“Just one more,” you whine, hands scratching back against his chest, “Gimme one more, please?”

“Fuck,” Chilchuck sucks in a sharp breath, icy tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, “Fine.”

An airy giggle flows through your lips, ditzy and hot and eager.

A few aggravated plaps is enough for Chilchuck to be puffing and shaking, your bounces deteriorate into heedy grinding. Chilchuck winds both arms around your midsection to pull your back against his chest, frustrated tears caking his lashes the longer his abused cock cooks inside you.

“C’mon, babe, you can cum for me. You gotta feel good, too, right?” he’s murmuring in your fluffy ear, flicking your clit with his thumb, “No point in this if you don’t feel good, too.”

His words are not what flips you into euphoria, but rather the sensation of his cum trickling from your swollen cunt -- fucked loose from your incessant jerking on him.

You toss your head back, Chilchuck narrowly avoiding a broken nose by swerving to the side. Loudly thunking together, your clamped knees trap his hand between your thighs -- gurgled cries for breath and his name croak from your hanging mouth.

“Good slut,” he lays sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, fingers slowing to a pause on your clit, “Best cunt for me.”

“Thank you,” you sigh into the open air, voice all soft and sweet.

Chilchuck laughs at the sound, lulling to the side to spoon you, “You’re way nicer like this. Could get used to it.”

“Don’t ruin this,” you yawn, pinching his wrist.

“Whatever, this better be enough to satisfy you,” he pulls the blanket over your conjoined limbs, too drained to pull up his pants and redress you.

“Hey,” you call, met with a soft groan of acknowledgement, “You know I’m not a mouse, right? I’m a rat.”

“Mhm,” he lazily confirms, “Sounds better than ratty cunt, though. So pick your battles.”

The next morning, a hand is shaking you awake. A soft and polite gesture immediately ruined when you realize the hand is much larger than Chilchuck’s. In a panic, your eyes shoot open to see your cheerful party leader.

“Thanks for going in the other room,” is the first thing out of his mouth, and you want to punch him, “I figure you two would want to get sorted out before everyone else wakes up.”

“Laios…”

“Hm?” his hand is still burning a hole through the sheet on your shoulder.

“Stop touching me.”

“Sorry!” he clutches the offending mitt to his chest, then rising to a stand and waving goodbye, “See you in a bit! Try not to take too long, okay? I have a lot of questions.”

“Get out.”

Unbothered by your mortification, Laios gives a thumbs up and creeps out into the room with the rest of your party.

“We should kill him,” Chilchuck husks into your ear.

“We should.”

“So,” Chilchuck cups the pouch of your tummy, squeezing in a way simultaneously strange and affectionate, “‘s this gonna become a problem?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I think I’m infertile.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Rat eggs and human eggs don’t actually mix well.”

“Well, it’s a relief I won’t have to raise another kid, I guess. How terrible would that be? I’d be on my deathbed when it gets married.”

…?

???

“Hey, wait,” you roll over in bed, brows furrowed at the man, “Another?”

He nods sluggishly, judgment clouded by both drowsiness and libido, “Three daughters already, so that’d be my fourth,” he cackles at your shocked face, “What? Sex with a coworker you don’t know isn’t panning how you thought?”

“Oh, shut up. I know you, just not your family. Totally different.”

“Definitely. Opposites.”

“So,” Laios swings his head towards Chilchuck, smiling politely, “How many nipples?”

~~~

stupid bonus

“What?” Chilchuck’s eye twitches.

“Sadly, I think it's only two because there’s only two visible mammaries…” the blonde has the gall to sigh at such a thought before suddenly blooming excitement, “Unless there’s more hiding in some kind of wrap! Are there?”

[through-a-blackhole]

Natsu Dragneel thinks Lucy Heartfilia is weird and these are the reasons why:

- The first time he meets her, she thanks him and he’s confused because he didn’t do shit except get beat up by random women, yet she tells him that she’s somehow thankful for him

- She treats him and Happy to food, and they alternate between listening to her and stuffing their faces with meat. She talks about magic and guilds, and gushes about Fairy Tail and dreams of joining his family

- She wrecks an entire harbor and freaks out, as if Natsu didn’t do half the damage himself, but joins him when he invites her to run away with him

- Lucy is so confusing, Natsu thinks. She wears clothes that reveal much of her skin, uses her sex appeal for bargains, reads those romance novels, but gets shy at the slightest talks of love

- She forms a team with him and he picks a job requiring a blonde maid, and he thinks it’s so silly of her to dress up with a maid costume and call him master

- He finds out she’s an heiress, and he almost wants to laugh because she’s an heiress of railways and trains, and he actually laughs when he realizes that Lucy had been affecting him even before they met

- She acts like a princess most of the time, obvious in how she speaks and carries herself, and Natsu is once again reminded that she grew up with wealth but then some of her quirks show through, like how thrifty she is with money, and the irony of it all isn’t lost on him

- She looks for love most of the time, and when the opportunity presented itself in a black-haired guy who loved to read and was interested in celestial spirits, she blew it all off to join him and Happy on a job

- She jumps off a fucking tower just because she knew he’d catch her, and he did but for a second he thought he wouldn’t make it, and when he catches her, his heart beats so loudly it could almost burst out of his ribcage

- He is confused; he died as a human, was brought to life as a demon, and grew up as the son of a dragon, and lived life as a fairy tail mage. He asks Lucy how he looks like and she smiles and says like Natsu, and he collapses against her chest in relief

- Lucy cries a lot and it is a common misconception that she’s the weakest one in their team, but Natsu knows Lucy is definitely the strongest

- He is once again confused when she doubts her abilities because why would she ever feel like she is the weakest? She is a Celestial spirit mage who has 10 out of the 12 Zodiac keys, all of whom adore her in addition to having the Celestial Spirit King’s favor, she’s done leaps and bounds in terms of magic, especially for someone who has only started seriously using their magic at age 17 whereas the entire guild has started practicing it ever since they were kids, and Lucy is one of the best mages in Fairy Tail despite her incredibly short time in wielding her power

- She breaks into him and Happy’s house to clean, and throws a fit when she realizes they weren’t coming home, but softens up when she finds them asleep in her apartment

- She’s weird. She’s so weird and loud and she hides inside a clock to escape the cold weather instead of just wearing a jacket.

- He loves her, though. Natsu would never trade Lucy for anything, he loves her with all of his heart, all of her weirdness and quirky traits and the way she hugs him is nice and she smells comforting and he feels safe around her

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: If You Take A Ghost Dog to The Dog Park

Cujo was what Sam called a 'Hound of Hell' and she meant it literally. After Danny became the King of Ghosts at the mature age of 15 and 2 days old, Cujo - his "dog" - became a listed Ghost Zone Hound which had multiple other names which included 'Hell Hound'. With Cujo's new found ability he was able to find Danny wherever he went and get him out of any potentially dangerous situation he found himself, as well as carry out orders given to him by Frostbite, Clockwork, Sam, Tucker, Jazz, Elle, Valerie and of course - Danny.

But Cujo was still a dog.

A very excited dog who dragged him all the way to a corner of the Ghost Zone and through a natural portal into an city Danny hadn't visited in person before. Gotham City. Specifically Cujo took him to the Gotham City dog park where he proceeded to try to play with the other dogs in the park.

Most of the dogs seemed hesitant at first until a great dane puppy jogged over and the two started to play together. It was nice to watch considering how little Hell Hounds there were in the Ghost Zone, but on the other hand Danny was in his human form and having a glowing green dog was quickly gaining attention, specifically from the owner of the great dane, a 9-year-old kid with black hair and green eyes.

"What kind of dog is that?" The kid asked.

"Honestly? No idea, he's a rescue." Danny said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "His names Cujo. What's your dogs name?"

"Titus."

"Like the Roman Emperor?" Danny questioned, seeing the surprise on the boys face.

"Exactly. Cujo is the name of a horror movie dog, correct?"

Danny nodded, "Yeah."

"Why is he green?"

Danny shrugged, "Dunno, he came that way." Danny said, then facepalmed when Cujo suddenly took on his huge form and began running through the park with Titus right on his heels.

It wasn't just Titus anymore either.

Suddenly more and more dogs were chasing Cujo through the dogpark as Cujo howled, barked, then turned and bowed occasionally at the other dogs before he finally turned and made a mad dash at Danny.

The kid took a step back as Danny just sighed, bracing himself as Cujo got closer and closer. Then, when he was close enough Danny held out his hand.

"Cujo, stop!"

Cujo slid to a stop, ending up less than three feet from Danny, his tail swishing excitedly.

"Cujo, sit."

Cujo sat down, his tail now thumping on the ground.

"Good. Now, Cujo, shrink."

Cujo popped into his small figure and jumped into Danny's arms as he pet him then looked at the kid and other very concerned and confused people.

"Uh... bye." He said, walking away leaving everybody concerned and confused.

---

Damian sat at the Bat-Computer curled up slightly as he tried to find information on what he'd seen when Drake walked in. Drake approached, looking at the computer with a tilt of his head.

"Is that a giant green dog?"

"Indeed. It was able to shift size, was glowing, and is seemingly well trained."

"So.. what you're doing research so you can get one of your own?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm trying to find the boy was who had it."

"Why?"

"Because the boy whom was with the dog had rings of glowing green around his eyes. Lazarus green specifically. I suspect a Lazarus pit has opened up within the Gotham Limits and that this boy and his dog are playing in it. If a Lazarus Pit has opened within Gotham we must get the boy into custody and get both he and his dog some help, then we must seal the pit."

"What if you can't find them?"

"Then they'll find us. That green dog and Titus enjoyed playing together and dogs thrive on patterns. The dog - Cujo - had fun at the park so it's only a matter of time before they return to it."

"Huh... if you take a dog to the dog park, he'll want to play again."

Damian looked at Drake with a raised brow.

"I was referencing a childrens book about a mouse and a cookie."

"Leave such things for Todd." Damian said simply, looking at the computer again.

[zarnzarn]

The doors to Olympus are sturdy and strong, given everyone's preferences for drama and slamming said doors open and sending them cracking into the wall whenever the opportunity arises. Which is why it's a surprise when they creak open during the once-a-decade pantheon meeting; less so because no entity worth their salt would take so long to open the doors, and more so because everyone who is anyone is already there.

But if everyone is being honest with themselves- which no one is, usually- these gatherings are boring enough that the bland conversation is dropped immediately in favour of craning their necks to catch a glimpse of whatever is coming to relieve them of their boredom.

When the doors finally open however, several of the pantheon murmur in surprise.

"Odysseus," Athena whispers, wide-eyed as she pushes herself off her throne to her feet. It is him- in the king's garb he was buried in but the face he has when he reached home, hair till the shoulders and speckled with grey, face oddly blank. His feet are transparent.

"What are you doing here, sceptre?" Poseidon booms, hair the color of a stormy sea. Zeus, beside him, looks reserved, observing the ghost with something approaching curiosity- eyes flicking to the lightning scars on his daughter's face and back. "Your time has long passed, and Hades-"

"It is a temporary agreement," Odysseus says curtly, barely sparing him a glance as he approaches his patron. "Athena."

Her armour clinks as she steps forward and the gods all twitch, trading glances. Owls are silent creatures- to have her aspect so affected to make noise was... uneasy to say the least. She even holds herself different than usual, something like confused delight shining in her eyes. "How did you-"

"Did you sleep with my wife?"

The throne room is silent. Several jaws drop.

Athena straightens back up, blinking in surprise. She looks a bit shifty, some of the nymphs closest whisper to each other, which- well, almost every single god present owed some part of their existence to the mere story of Odysseus loving his wife.

Would he fight his own patron goddess over it in front of Mount Olympus, though? He certainly was unbalanced enough; Athena herself looked rather uncertain of her odds, even though-

"Are you addled in death, King of Ithaka?" Artemis drawls, looking amused. "Did you forget that your own patron is celibate? Whatever rumor you-"

"No, I-" Athena says suddenly, shifting her spear to her other hand. "I did."

Artemis chokes on her breath and several assorted divine beings gasp in shock and the rest shouting for explanations, although everyone is nearly drowned out by Aphrodite's loud, "WHAT?"

Odysseus inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe you."

"She asked-" Athena starts, only to be drowned out by the din of various beings screeching and shouting about the scandal.

"ATHENA!" Hera hisses, peacock tail fanning behind her sharply as she pushes herself up. "Explain yourself!"

Athena half-turns to face her, face creased in a frown. "Mother, I-"

"LET ME REPHRASE!" Odysseus cuts in loudly, and the shouting settles down into silence. He walks to his patron, eyes blazing. "I cannot believe," he throws his clenched fists wide as he growls the last word, "-you took Penelope to bed-" Athena surprisingly stays still as he reaches her, mouth falling open as he grabs her by the chiton to yank her down, uncaring of the gasps of horror from all around as he snarls, "-before you ever kissed me."

And then Odysseus grabs Athena by the face roughly and kisses her.

This time Aphrodite's shriek cannot be escaped by anyone.

"Aphrodite, please," Zeus says a few moments later, wincing as his throne reforms around him, stained oddly pink. Quite a few minor entities have discorporated, and the ones nearest to her are still trying to regenerate their hearing. "Control yourself."

Their eyes land back on where Athena has dropped her spear- dropped her spear, Ares in the corner seems to be having some minor hysteria over this, well warranted- and is also on the floor, still being thoroughly kissed by that insufferable, mannerless hero of hers, perched on her stomach to reach. Zeus inhales in fury, Poseidon close behind him as the shock wears off, lightning crackling around his fingers as he opens his mouth to shout- of all the indignities-

"If you two ruin this for me," Aphrodite thunders, warping in front of them and glaring. "I will make you both regret it."

Both gods visibly blanch at the threat, taken aback for one brief moment. Threats from Aphrodite are far worse than any of her more violent siblings, at the end of the day.

Zeus visibly gathers himself just as Athena's helmet clatters to the floor, and he gains a second wind immediately, eye twitching as he spreads a hand to the spectacle in the middle of the hall. "WHAT MANNER OF DISRESPECT IS THIS? TO BARGE INTO OUR MEETING AND THROW ONE OF THE OLDEST GODDESSES TO THE FLOOR LIKE A COMMON WENCH-"

"Zeus," Hera says quietly. Everyone falls silent, although it's not quite enough to stop the two tangled together on the ground. She clears her throat, which finally seems to get through to Athena, who had finally seemed to have gotten over her shock enough to reach out, hands hovering over Odysseus hesitantly. Still, at the noise she seems to remember herself, pushing herself up on an elbow and dislodging him enough to break their necking. He pouts at her, but Athena's eyes are too glazed over to notice, heaving for breath.

Hera opens her mouth to speak, crown manifesting on her brow as she steps in front of the throne, but closes it as the door rattles again.

This time, the spectre shimmers with a faint hint of scales that comes with a freshwater nymph's heritage and excited whispers starved for drama explode across the room as the Queen of Ithaka steps into the room, skirts hitched in her hand and panting as if she'd been running.

"Your Graces," She bows respectfully before entering, Spartan princess through and through, until she catches sight of her husband and Athena, the former of whom seems to have taken the opportunity to start kissing the wisdom goddess again, fingers in her curls.

"What are you doing?" She snaps, rushing over. The entire courtroom holds its breath. She slaps her husband upside the head, making him yelp and move back to shoot her a betrayed look. Athena looks even further dazed than before, cheeks red. "Argos has more manners than you! No wonder Lady Athena wanted nothing to do with you- ah, hello, darling, by the way."

"Penelope," Athena murmurs hoarsely, and the Queen of Ithaka leans down to kiss her as well.

Odysseus chuckles, then jumps with everyone else as Hera slams a hand down on the throne elegantly, cracking it to the base.

"Ah, goddess-" He says, clambering off Athena to bow.

"Silence," Hera interrupts, holding up a hand, eyes cold. "You will not say anything to me apart from an explanation. My agreement for your release from Ogygia was due to the assurance that your marriage was one of the truest I have ever witnessed, conveyed by Athena herself when bartered with all of us to let you go. Tell me, was it a ploy? Because from the disgraceful looks of it, this seems to not be the case in the slightest."

Odysseus frowns, face twisting in confusion. "Athena bartered with...?" He turns to look at his patron, who stares back, unspeaking. His eyes flicker to the lightning scar over her right eye as Penelope traces it with horrified eyes and a gentle thumb, and understanding seems to dawn.

For a moment, rage seems to fill him, glaring with a hatred towards Zeus that everyone whispered later wasn't met by the god king with anger, but a flicker of remorse- before he visibly throws it away behind Athena's old smile and bows.

"God-queen," He says formally, gracefully. Hera twitches a bit, and they'll all talk later about how odd it was to so clearly see Athena's younger mannerisms in the man, down to the curl of the letters. "My marriage to Penelope has never been false, never been broken, this I promise you." He takes Penelope's hand and squeezes it for emphasis, and she raises them as acknowledgement. "But... can you not argue that Athena has been part of our marriage all this time? From its start, where she advised me on courting and her on what to look for, to the twenty years she spent with both of us- me on the battlefield and Penelope in the court; to say nothing of how she helped raise our son and lived in our palace in the days after. And is she not so unbearably beautiful that even my Penelope couldn't wait-" He shoots a glare at her, which Penelope returns with a smile. "-when the chance was presented? How can you fault us for disgrace, after being so long apart from our wife?"

Hera raises both eyebrows at the impudence, the kind of disbelieving expression that hides a warning to tread carefully. "So you claim to be both married to Pallas Athena?"

"In every way that matters except legality," Odysseus says, fearlessly. He is dead, after all, what much can you do to a shade that they didn't already put him through when alive. He is sort of worried about Athena, though, as they both help her back to her feet, Penelope busy whispering compliments and updates and endearments in turn- she's not usually one to be quiet in face of a problem.

Hera tilts her head. "Ah, but you see. I need the legality, if I am to finally-" A helpless, excited smile pulls at her lips once, twice, before unfolding into a bright grin, peacock tails unfolding to their full wingspan. "-finally arrange for a marriage for my eldest daughter who has not once- oh finally, I can hardly believe this day has come-"

"I do not like the way you grabbed her, Sacker of Troy," Ares steps forward as Hera starts ranting half to herself, half to an equally loud assemblage of joyful entities about wedding arrangements, eyes narrowed.

Odysseus barks an incredulous, loud laugh, gesturing to Athena with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "This lady has broken- and I do not exaggerate- every single bone in my body before I saw my sixteenth year. I have punched her a hundred times in the face when she taught me how to fight. We'll survive, thanks."

"That is fair," Ares steps back, hands raised.

"What duties will you provide as spouses, Ithakan Queen?" Hestia questions, stepping forward.

"Oh, the same we did when we were living," Penelope huffs a laugh. "Keep her busy, make her laugh, be of mild frustration to her, love her well, worship her-"

"I do not. Need to know," Hestia closes her eyes and raises a hand to cut her off, stepping back. Around them, the din catches speed and volume as no further objections arise, excitement spilling into the air.

"What is happening?" Athena says faintly, looking around as if she was just waking up.

"-oh, and we can get out the decor once more! Hebe, Aphrodite, loves, do you remember where we kept the fountains-"

"-finally, a reason to celebrate! Call them all out of hiding-"

"-can't believe this is finally happening, oh sister, what songs should we-

"Why am I getting married," Athena says with much more alarm and horror. She turns to Odysseus and shakes him by the shoulder, eyes wild. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"How is this nothing? Do you have any idea the headache-"

"Athena, sweetheart, will you consider changing into that beautiful piece you made for the ceremony?"

Creakily, she turns her head to Hera, disbelief pasted across her face. "Mother," She says slowly. "They are both dead."

"Oh, I'll make a deal with Hades or something, you hush!" Aphrodite leans forward and snaps, before her irritation melts back into a manic joy. "Oh, what paint shall we do?"

Paint, Athena mouths, looking afraid for possibly the first time since her conception.

Penelope laughs and tugs on Athena's hand to make her turn, tucking dishevelled curls behind her ear. She wonders if the goddess knows how beautiful she is when she's flustered. "Take us away," She whispers. On Athena's other side, Odysseus leans against their patron with a besotted, helpless smile as he stares up at her, her helmet and spear in hand. She'd missed Athena like a limb, missed her deep laugh at night when they'd discussed the day's court, the dry jokes, the hands over hers as she weaved- but Odysseus wasn't himself without her, happy though they were in Hades' lands together, all of them.

"I'm-" Athena wavers, then looks around once more at all the excited screaming, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. Almost against her will, her eyes fall to Zeus, who is sitting silently and staring back at her. Poseidon looks like he still wants to start a fight, but clearly by his wary looks below can tell he will be heavily outnumbered by the overexcited crowd to not try, but Zeus just stares back at her, face blank of any emotion.

"We ask you formally this time," King Odysseus says, walking in front of her to take her attention away, holding onto her hand. His voice has strength in it, drawing the eyes of the murmuring crowd, but he's deaf to it as he stares up at her.

"Will you be our wife?" Queen Penelope asks, joining him, watching their beautiful patron shudder for breath she does not need as her eyes flick to one of them and then the other.

"Yes," She whispers and cheers erupt all across Mount Olympus.

"Finally!" Odysseus complains, and then pulls her down once more to kiss her, all three of them fading at the edges as one of the generous gods present there- who seems to realize that they're not very inclined to stop anytime soon- thankfully teleports them away into a nice room with a large bed.

"Finally," He whispers as he breaks apart to lay her down, cupping her face, voice heavy with the longing of a full lifetime and more. Penelope circles to the head of the bed and starts undoing Athena's braid, staring at them both lovingly.

Later the ones closest will murmur, as the silhouettes faded away, that tears had slipped from proud Pallas Athena's eyes as she placed one hand against Odysseus' cheek, trembling.

"I missed you," She will whisper back, and all three of them fade away to their own story, yet to be made.

[luveline]

coworker!james is fueling me rn thank u miss jade!! can i pretty please request a coworker!james drabble in which someone at work, a higher-up of some kind or someone visiting from another company being kind of cruel to reader, and jamie discovers that maybe there are several people who have just not been very kind to her, and she doesn’t really understand why he’s upset for her? please and thank u

—Why is James so upset? And how do you calm him down so quickly? fem, 1.2k

The horrible heat of the first week of British summer time finally breaks. It was an eventuality. Nothing good ever lasts for James —he must’ve been enjoying it too much. The sun is gone, the clouds are grey, and the office radiators pump a meek heat into the room.

The dreary skies outside depress him. “I miss the sun,” he sighs, putting the tips of his fingers together and bringing down his hands, base of his palms apart to stretch the sore inside of his wrists. They pang. 

“Sunny again next week,” Remus says reassuringly. “Just in time for your review!” 

“Please don’t remind me.” 

“I must remind you, Jamie.” Remus stands up, and he gives James a loving squeeze on the shoulder, voice close to his ear, “Because you need to pretend you like your job, at least for the next few days. Come and get some coffee with me.” 

James waves his hand. “In a second.” 

When James met Remus, Remus couldn’t take touch. Didn’t like it or want it, couldn’t accept so much as a compliment, but things change, and years of knowing one another makes squeezing and pinching easy work. Remus flicks him without cruelty and exits the nook, leaving James on his own. 

He glares at your empty seat, confused. When did you leave? 

Doesn’t matter. Coffee. James is in desperate need of coffee as Remus recommended to warm up. He exits out of his desktop and shucks his suit jacket back on, taking a hand to run through his knotted hair as he walks. Past the desk banks of the account managers and the reception bank to the hallway that runs into the break room and adjourning kitchen. The office is a weird maze but the worst part is having the big ‘conference’ room right next to the break room, so the people inside working can judge you for eating, and vice versa. 

The conference room door is propped open. 

James recognises you from behind, your hair and tight shoulders. He should recognise the stress, having caused so much of it. 

“It’s just not good enough.” 

“I know.”

“You coast by, doing half the work of your fellow accountants.” 

“I… I was sick for a week, I know it affected my turnover. But nothing went unfinished, sir.” 

“No, because your colleagues picked up your slack.” 

“Sir, I– I promise I work hard.” 

Your voice is so oddly unlike yourself, a tone James is unfamiliar with. He’s arrogant and agitating and has no business interrupting, but he knocks the conference door anyways. 

“Hi, Mr. Vida. How’s it going?” James asks.

“James, it’s fine. We’re just going through L/N’s review.” 

James pulls one of those boyish smirks that men often share when they should be grimacing instead. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” He hangs on like he has something else to say. 

“I think we’re about finished.” 

Mr. Vida is a predictable man. He ushers the woman away to make room for the man. His misogyny is unsubtle and unfortunate, your expression laced with hurt as you gather yourself and stand to leave. 

“Not looking forward to mine,” James says easily. You round the door, and he sends Mr. Vida a suck-up smile before he goes. He should stand up for you in a way that matters, but he’d felt it imperative to remove you from the situation, rather than escalate. 

He’s on your tail, coffee forgotten as you scurry back to the desks. “Hey,” he says, finding himself in a half-jog to keep up, “wait, wait, are you okay?” 

You slow. “I’m fine,” you say, so mildly perplexed that he doesn’t think for a moment you’re playing it cool. 

“He was getting a little heavy with you.” 

You frown in agreement, but otherwise move on, rolling your chair back with your foot to open your desk drawer. “I guess so. He’s like that.” 

“Is he? I’ve never had him that mad at me.” 

“He’s not that bad.” You pull a blister pack of painkillers from your drawer and pop three out in a row. “Have you met his boss? Oh, have you ever spoken to the manager of the account managers from the Brussels office? She sucks.” 

James doesn’t have the wherewithal to pretend he wasn’t following you. He stands with his hands vice-like on the back of his chair. “What did they say to you?” 

“Who, Mr. Vida’s boss? Or the Brussels manager?” 

“Both.” 

You sit and fish a bottle of water from your bag. “I actually filed a successful grievance again Mr. Vida’s boss, he kept calling me sweetheart. I know,” —you wince— “that’s a bit much, but it was really obvious he was looking down at me, so.” 

“And the Brussels manager?” 

“She emailed me thinking I was much more involved with the lab than I actually am. She kept calling me stupid.” You take one of your tablets and wash it down with a swig of water. “But,” you add, smiling at him, “I did manage to solve her problem.” 

“What do you mean, she called you stupid?” 

Your smile slips. “She called me a bunch of stuff. Professionally, you know, but she kept asking why my foresight was so sorely lacking. You know what they’re like.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t, no. Nobody’s ever called me stupid. Or sweetheart.” 

You smile genially. “Perks of being a girl. Or stupid.” You laugh at yourself softly.

“You’re not stupid.” 

You sober at his solemn tone. “I know,” you say. “I’m just joking.” 

“Nobody should be talking to you like that.” 

“I know, James, but what am I supposed to do?” 

He doesn’t know. What can you do? Nothing. What can James do? What should he do? 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. 

Your frown deepens. “It’s not your fault. It’s really fine.” 

“It’s not fine. It’s not, though, it’s–”

“James?” you say. 

“What?” 

You stand up. You stand close to him, looking into his face. “Don’t be upset,” you say, mirroring his softer tone, “it’s okay. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it at all.” 

“Well, luckily this time I had you to come and rescue me,” you say. “But it really is fine. I can look after myself, even if I shouldn’t have to. Okay?” 

Your hand finds his arm. You squeeze his wrist and his entire torso lights up, everything, his chest, the backs of his shoulders, like goosebumps but warmer and with a softer fuzz to it. Your eyes meet his, an encouraging smile playing on a pretty mouth. For the first time that day, he feels pleasantly warm, like he’s had that first hot sip of coffee. 

The pads of your fingers are so, so soft where you catch his bare skin. 

“Okay,” he says instinctively. He’d say the sky was red if you asked him to, in that moment. 

You rub the back of his thumb with yours before letting him go. You sit down and finish your drink, and it takes James a good two minutes at his own desk to remember he’s not the one who needed comforting. 

He opens his emails to write a formal complaint against Mr. Vida for poor work conduct. He doesn’t think twice about hitting send. 

[justauthoring]

Heeey, I saw you are writing for fairy tail😍😍 I am obsessed. Can I please request a Natsu x Reader fiction. I don't have anything specific in mind. Maybe they are on a quest and reader is cold and Natsu helps them warm up. I don't know, just pure fluff!!! Thank you!!!!!!

just a lil drabble while im sick :) natsu was my first ever anime crush and ive been feeling so nostalgic about him <3

late night cuddle.

you tried not to make it obvious, but it was getting harder by the second.

just why the hell was it so cold?

it had been like that for the entirety of the mission but bearable in the midst of everything. natsu and gray's bickering, coupled with light chattering with lucy and erza had been enough to keep your mind off of it on the trip here, and then once you were in the thick of it, it was pretty easy to ignore too. fighting, after all, built up quite the sweat.

but now? with no sun and just the dark, lonely sky, and a sleeping bag that was as thin as the shirt you were wearing it? it was so much more harder to ignore now.

a glance over your shoulder to your teammates tells you they're pretty much all asleep themselves, except for natsu who'd elected to keep first watch. happy had first volunteered to join him, but twenty minutes in you'd heard natsu chuckle affectionately and send him off to bed too.

so, that left just him and then the rest of your teammates peacefully asleep.

your eyes flicker to lucy next to you; you could ask her if she wanted to share a blanket and sleep close for warmth. you knew the girl never really wore the most appropriate clothing so she wouldn't mind and it wasn't like it was your first time ever having to share a sleeping bag before.

but.... but she looked so peaceful. her eyes shut and her lips parted just slightly as her chest rose and fell with soft breathes and you remember how she'd gotten hit partically hard earlier in the fight. the large bandaged bruise on her cheek a swift reminder and you didn't want to wake her up especially when rest was probably the best thing for her.

not to mention, wendy was off with gajeel and levy for a mission so she didn't have wendy's soothing healing magic to ease any of the pain.

yeah. no. you definitely were not disturbing her.

you glance to your other teammates. you loved gray, but he definitely wouldn't warm you up—if anything, he'd probably just make you more cold. erza wasn't an option either. you'd made that mistake once before and your head still hurt from being slammed against her armour (which she wore to bed, of course) and then kept against it for the entirety of the night.

happy was nice to cuddle with but he wouldn't keep you all that warm.

finally, your eyes flicker back to natsu. his back is turned to you and he's sitting crossed-legged by the edge of the camp, completely in his own world. he'd be warm, the warmest out of everyone, given him being a fire dragon slayer. but... the thought of... of asking him to warm you up brought an instant flush to your cheeks, embarrassment coursing through your entire veins and that idea gets reected instantly in fear of your feeligns.

so, relectantly, you're turning back around, letting your head fall against your thin pillow again.

you shut your eyes, forcing them shut and pull your knees to your chest, holding your blanket tight against you, praying that even just a bit of warmth will allow you to fall asleep.

a cold burst of wind has you shivering a second later and your teeth practically chitter against one another and you give up on sleep all together then.

with your blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, you make your way to where natsu's sat, sitting an appropriate distance from him.

"y/n?"

natsu's voice is soft, an odd tone you've never really heard on him before as his head tilts to face you, confusion written across his face.

"what're you doing up?"

"couldn't sleep," is all you offer in explanation, pulling your blanket closer around you. sending him a soft smile, you gesture behind you. "you can head to bed if you want. i can keep watch."

for a split second, he looks like he's gonna agree, the exhaustion clear on his face as he moves to thank you. then, wind brushes through the camp once again that has your hair swishing and your shoulders pulling in, a hiss leaving your lips as you try to fight through the bitting wind. natsu halts to a stop.

"why couldn't you sleep?"

you barely realize natsu's asked you a question until suddenly his face is right in front of you, concerned.

"o-oh!" you let out, startled, leaning back and using your hand to catch yourself. regrettably though, just the mere presence of natsu so close already makes you feel warmer. "it's no biggie!" you laugh off lightly, despite how good he feels so close. "i was just a little cold so i thought—"

whatever you're about to say gets promptly cut off the second you're being pulled flush against a firm chest. it all happens in a second. it's like you blink and suddenly you're being lifted off the ground and into a lap where a pair of arms wrap snuggly around your waist and you're completely surrounded by warmth.

"n-natsu!"

"here," natsu whispers, gruffly and it nearly sends you into a heart attack. "i'll keep you warm."

you blink, turning back to see him grinning brightly down at you. that same toothy grin natsu always has and the same one that always sends flutters through your stomach and has your heart racing madly against your chest.

you can barely stand it in general and even less when it's directed solely at you.

"oh," you manage to force out. "you—you don't have to, natsu!" you wingle in his grasp, trying to scoot off of his lap, but natsu's grip stays tight around you. "i meant what i said. you should get some rest and—"

"y/n?"

"...yeah?"

natsu's grin fades but only to turn into something softer. a warm, gentle grin falls on his face as he shakes his head. "you're practically shaking. you even feel cold, and that's a lot coming from me." you frown, just then realizing how cold you really had been. "it's fine. i offered to keep watch in the first place and besides? who better than me to keep you warm, right?"

there's a possessive edge to his tone that you don't quite catch.

the way he says it so nonchalantly has you absolutely reeling. so much that all you can manage in response is a weak hum and a nod as you turn back ahead of yourself, slowly and cautiously letting your back fall against natsu's chest.

"comfortable?"

you can feel his chest rumble as he speaks.

"y-yeah," you nod, letting yourself sink into his touch more, unable to deny how warm he is. a good warm. a really good warm. you can already feel the exhaustion you'd been feeling all day catching up to you as your eyelids grow heavy.

"thank you, natsu."

you say it just as your eyes fall shut, unaware of the warm smile natsu glances at you down with as you fall asleep in his arms and in his lap.

"no problem, y/n/n."

-

"damn, natsu, i didn't think you had it in you."

"shut it, droopy eyes."

"hey—!"

"they're in loveeeee~!"

"seriously, though, natsu. i... i certainly wasn't expecting to wake up to this."

"yeah, natsu. if you forced her, i—"

"what! no! what kind of guy do you take me for! i didn't force her to do—"

you let out a moan at the flutter of noises overwhelming your senses. all you can really register is how warm you are and how comfortable you are. the thought that you could stay here forever crosses your mind and you move to just go back to sleep, and then—

then. you remember everything.

being cold. unable to sleep. going to natsu. and then... then him pulling you into his lap and—

you snap awake, bolting out of natsu's arms who pulls back in surprise at your sudden movement. it takes you a second, blinking the sleep out of your eyes, before your gaze shifts from natsu who's smiling at you, with a faint pink to his cheeks, to the rest of your teammates stood in front of you.

gray looks smug, sending you a smirk as you turn bright red. erza looks utterly confused, her eyes snapping between you and natsu. happy is barely able to contain his laughter. and lucy's looking at you like you've grown a second head.

it occurs to you that you should say something.

turning to them, you raise your hand; "it isn't what you think."

"it's exactly what you think."

"natsu!"

[kaciebello]

Hello Bella! How are you? ^.^

I’ve read the prompt requested: “I’m just wondering why we can talk for hours online when you ignore me in real life”

And it was simply the best.

Would you consider /writing/ them talking irl at last?

If not no problem, thank you for reading this message <3

" I’m just wondering why we can talk for hours online when you ignore me in real life "

Slytherin boys genre: humour warning: I don't think so note: sorry for any typos, hope you enjoy it! Masterlist Social media masterlist ☀ Prompt list ☾

Matteo Riddle

Matteo was about to turn the corner when he noticed a familiar face. He stopped in his tracks and weighed his options. And like on a daily basis, he decided to be a menace. Taking a few steps before sitting down. The person next to him was reading a book, paying absolutely no mind to whoever just sat next to them. Hadn't he known her, he would have thought she was ignoring him. 

“Have you ever thought about how weird it is?” His voice made him jump a bit and look at him. Confusion is visibly clear on her face.

“What is?” She asks, his voice small, as if she wanted no one to hear them. Matteo could care less about that.

“How can we talk for hours online? Yet, when you see me face to face, you usually run away.” He says, looking into her eyes now. She's just able to nod and turn her gaze from his. Before he was able to complain again she turned back to him.

“You make me feel like I wanna punch you with a chair.” She says. Matteo just laughs, but when he notices she isn't laughing with him, his face visibly drops. Nodding in acknowledgement he gave it a thought.

“So like a cute aggression?”

“What? NO!”

•·················•·················•

Theodore Nott

He has been holding her hand for like an hour now and she has yet to mumble a single word. He'd been talking her ear off and his hand was starting to get sweaty, but he knew if he let go she would just be bold and it would take him half a day to catch her.

“You know, I talk to you every day.” He says not even looking at her. She has been stuck watching their hands and this has been the first time since she looked at him.

“We talk online every day, but when I try it in person…” He knows he does not have to finish. She is very well aware of her escapee tendencies.

“I’m sorry, you just make me nervous so much that my flight or fight kicks in. And it's usually flight.” She says his fingers not playing with his, her gaze stuck on their hands again. Theo nods again.

“You know I have something that might help.” He says and turns to dig out something out of his bad. Turning around he sees an empty spot next to him and a girl in the distance absolutely bolting it. He just sighs, he hasn't realised he let go of her hand.

•·················•·················•

Draco Malfoy

Draco was quick on his feet. He had seen her turn the corner and he was not going to let that slide. He just sa Potter absolutely eat shit while walking down the stairs and he needed to share it now. Yeah, he could text her, but she's not that fast, he can catch up with her. Turning the corner himself he crashes into somebody. There she stood rubbing her forehead.

“Jesus, can you stop following me? You’ve been on my tail for 3 minutes now.”

“Stop running away then, the fuck.” Draco argues back. She just shakes her head and starts walking again.  Draco doesn't wait and follows.

“You're just weird. Always rushing. Able to talk to me for hours online, but not even a peep in real life. I can't even tell you what is saw without losing my breath.” The girl stops and Draco crashes into her back again. She huffs and turns around.

“What do you have.”

“Okay, so Potter…”

•·················•·················•

Blaise Zabini

Blaise knows what he looks like. His friends know what he looks like. Hell, even people that don’t know him know what he looks like. He made sure of it. So he was sitting down holding the girl's face. Making sure her eyes were on him as if he was trying to burn his face into her mind.

“I'm surprised you can recognize me,” Blaise said, letting go of her when she sweated his arms away. 

“I know plenty of what you look like. You send me enough pictures.” She huffs back at him.

“Yes, yes, that I do. Because somehow we always talk online, and never in real life.” He argues back. The girl just nods. Silence falls on them. He knew she was eating him but he didn't say anything.

“Ya know, I may see your face all the time but I can't hear your voice in pictures.” With that Blaise takes the deepest breath and lets out the longest rant of his life.

•·················•·················•

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo has told all his friends to meet him for lunch. By all friends, he meant all. So that's why he told the girl to show up 5 minutes early. That way, he could trap her and hot let her go. Now this may seem cruel, but if he didn't do this, he knew the girl would turn around the moment she could see his friends.

So now, he was sitting down, The boys were talking amongst themself. No one was really paying attention to them. His arm was on her thigh, keeping her from jumping up and running away. He leans closer to whisper in her ear.

“You know, you talk a lot online, but in real life, you are rather quiet,” he says and pulls away. She just shakes her head before leaning and whispering back.

“I am just quiet with a lot of people around.” Lorenzo raises his eyebrow and nods again. Slowly he grabs her hand and seemingly sneaks out of the room. He was not gonna miss the opportunity to talk to his favourite person.

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