#cats are one thing i guess but no to kittens and no to all small animals. no more sugar glider bro that is a blood frisbee

[turochamp]

reminder

dont let your dog play with small animals you want to be alive. the dog doesnt know restraint and will kill it

yes your dog. yes even little dogs. yes even companion breeds. you are the only one to have the risk assessment skills of your duo, use it to keep your dog from killing shit by limiting interaction.

[corroded-hellfire]

Throwing a fluffy idea out there: Eddie volunteering (possibly for community service after getting busted for something silly) at a pet shelter. The kittens trying to play with his hair, him rough housing with the dogs to help get them some playtime and exercise.

Eddie loves animals and no one can change my mind. All I want is to see him with these fuzzy little babies 🥺

Words: 3.1k

Hopper was a good guy. He knew deep down Eddie was a good kid and that if he was the worst criminal that Hawkins had, things were going all right. But that didn’t mean that the chief of police wouldn’t lay down the law once in a while with the small-time drug dealer. 

Eddie had gotten the choice between a few nights in the tiny town jail or volunteering at a pre-approved Hawkins business. Not wanting to spend time behind bars, Eddie grumbled as he took a look at the list of volunteer options. Spending any time at a medical facility was an automatic no and Eddie wasn’t sure how picking up trash would keep him away from drugs when all he’d want is to smoke a joint after the arduous task. 

The Hawkins Animal Shelter immediately seemed appealing, though. Growing up, Eddie had always wanted a dog, but his dad couldn’t afford to own one and Wayne is allergic. Thinking of spending time with the dogs and cats that didn’t have families of their own brought a smile to his face. Maybe part of it was that he didn’t have a stable home life before coming to live with his uncle, so he could relate to the sweet, innocent animals. 

His first day on the job, Eddie jumps out of his van and tosses his leather jacket on the passenger’s seat so it won’t get covered in fur or drool. The gravel crunches beneath his boots as he heads towards the front door. Barking can be heard before he even grips the dull copper doorknob. 

There’s an older woman seated behind a desk as soon as he walks in, who looks up at him over the rim over her tortoiseshell glasses.

“Munson?” Her voice is deep and raspy, the pack of cigarettes sitting in front of her the obvious culprit.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says.

The woman nods her head to a yellow door covered in scratches—mostly on the bottom half. “In there. The girl will show you what to do.”

The girl. Eddie doesn’t even know who she is, but he’s offended on her behalf by being referred to in that way. Giving the woman a quick nod, Eddie heads over and through the door, eager to be out of her presence. 

The sound of dogs barking and yipping is even louder in the back hallway, and now it’s joined by the high-pitched meowing of cats. It brings a smile to Eddie’s face as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets. He turns a corner and sees a girl bending over into one of the dog’s kennels. As excited as he is to see the animals he’s going to be spending time with, he admires the view of the nice ass in front of him first. A particularly loud woof from a Pomeranian has the girl standing up straight and Eddie is quick to avert his eyes, hoping he can keep up the facade of being a gentleman for more than five minutes.

“Oh! Hi, Eddie.”

At the sound of his name, Eddie looks back towards you. A smile breaks out on his face as he recognizes you from school. The two of you never really spoke before, but he couldn’t deny that he’d always thought you were very pretty. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here,” he says.

“Nope, just volunteer,” you say as you wipe your hands off on the thighs of your jeans. 

“And I bet you weren’t even threatened with jail time,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. You giggle and it makes Eddie’s stomach flip in a way that’s unfamiliar to him.

“Let me guess, Brenda sent you back here with a huff?” A dog clamors for your attention in a kennel to your right and you reach in to scratch behind the chocolate lab’s ear. 

“I assume so,” Eddie says with a shrug. “She didn’t bother introducing herself before ushering me along, saying you would tell me what to do.”

“Hmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes as if inspecting him. “Can anyone really tell Eddie Munson what to do?”

This makes him laugh and it scares a skittish poodle to his left.

“Aw, I’m sorry, pal.” Eddie crouches down and holds his knuckles up to the kennel door to let the white, fluffy dog give him a sniff. 

“That’s Stella,” you tell him. “Her brother Bruno is on the pillow back there asleep.”

Eddie’s eyes roam over to the dark gray poodle snoozing away in the back corner. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world and Eddie envies that. 

“Do you know all the animals’ names here?” Eddie asks as he stands back up.

“Sometimes it’s hard to keep track because they come and go, but yeah, I think so,” you say. “Hmm, okay, I was just about to go change the kitty litter. Want to come along and distract the kittens? You wouldn’t believe how much they get in the way.”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees as he follows you down the hallway. As soon as you open the door to where the cats are kept, a cacophony of meowing floods his ears. There are different volumes and different pitches blending together to create a song of cat chaos. Eddie realizes he must be staring when he hears a soft giggle coming from your direction. Ducking his head, he clears his throat and turns towards you. “What should I do, boss?”

“Well,” you say as you walk over to a few of the cubbies the cats are residing in, “I’ll let a few out at a time, you distract them with the toys or maybe even some treats and I’ll clean their boxes. Then we try to corral them back in and start over again. Ready?”

There’s an array of cat toys on the far side of the small room. Fuzzy mice, balls that jingle, some with feathers, and a few cat wands. Eddie grabs a bag of cat treats off the shelf–which means every little eyeball in that room is on him–and settles himself on the floor next to the toys.

“Ready.”

The first batch you let out consists of five cats–ones that you know for a fact get along, you inform him. There’s a calico named Turtle, an orange and white one named Eric, an all-white called Kissy with the bluest eyes Eddie’s ever seen, and two small kittens. They’re both tabby cats with stripes, but one is grey with black stripes and the other is a soft orange with darker stripes; named Pepper and Chili respectively. Unsurprisingly, the kittens are the first ones intrigued by their new visitor. Tiny paws pad over the linoleum floor until they’re both standing right in front of Eddie. Now that they’re this close though, they get a bit shy. Their eyes are so big for their little heads, Eddie thinks, and he can’t help but chuckle at how cute they are. Chili decides to be the brave one and takes on the scary task of crawling up Eddie’s leg. 

“Jesus,” Eddie winces as sharp little claws dig through the material of his jeans and prick at his skin. You pop your head out from one of the kennels and give him a sympathetic look.

“Yeah. I don’t know why but kittens’ claws are sharper than adult cats,” you tell him.

“God, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” Eddie tells Chili as the little furball stops to sit on Eddie’s thigh. As if seeing that his brother is safe, Pepper jumps up and follows the trail the ginger cat had led. “Ah, both. Great.” His words are joking, but the way he grits his teeth as Pepper’s claws do their little pricks of damage is very real. 

Turtle makes her way over and begins to chew on the top corner of the treat bag. Kissy immediately wants Eddie to pet her, and Eric is content to sit about a foot away and watch the others interact with the human on the floor. 

You peek over your shoulder as you empty the dirty litter into the garbage can beside you, and smile when you see Pepper standing on Eddie’s lap with her two front paws pressed right over his heart. Her tiny head bobs as she inspects Eddie’s face, little pink nose twitching as it works. 

Chili has to outdo his sister and jumps right up to Eddie’s shoulder, as if he were a pirate and Chili is his trusty parrot. The ginger cat noses at Eddie’s curls before deciding to take a taste. He opens his mouth and Eddie is glad that hair doesn’t have nerve endings when Chili sinks those little needles that he calls teeth into the strand. 

By the time you get finished cleaning out the litter and refilling the food and water, Pepper is up on Eddie’s other shoulder, chewing on hair on that side of his head. Kissy is curled up in Eddie’s lap, purring contentedly as she snoozes. Turtle is still trying to figure out how to get into the treat bag, and Eric decides he can trust Eddie enough to rest his head on Eddie’s ankle. 

“Well, don’t you all look comfy,” you say as you stroll over to them. 

“Cats have no boundaries,” Eddie says with a smile.

“Not a one,” you agree.

Eventually, you get them all back in their cubby condos and are able to move on to clean the other cat’s areas.

When you get to the last one, you open the cage door and reach in. Eddie watches as you pull out an older gray and brown cat and hug it to your chest.

“How are you, Perry?” you ask before planting a kiss right between the cat’s ears. You turn towards Eddie so he can get a better view of the large feline. “This is Perry. He’s the oldest cat here and an absolute sweetheart. I would’ve brought him home with me a long time ago if my sister wasn’t allergic.”

“Hi, Perry,” Eddie says, walking closer to the two of you. He holds his fingers up and Perry gives them a quick sniff. The cat ducks his head and Eddie takes the hint, scratching wherever his hand is guided along the soft fur.

“Wow,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Perry let anyone pet him that quickly. He can be a grumpy old man when he doesn’t know someone.”

“I live with a grumpy old man,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Guess I just know how to deal with them.”

“Do you want to hold him while I clean?” you offer. 

“Sure.”

You hand the cat over and Perry quickly adjusts to being in Eddie’s arms. It’s another thing that surprises you. Perry isn’t usually a fan of being held—unless it’s by you. But the tabby seems quite content in Eddie’s arms. 

Since the last cage is the easiest to clean, you finish up with the cat room in no time.

“What now?” Eddie asks. 

A look down at your watch lets you know.

“Time for the first group of dogs to go outside.” You nod for Eddie to follow you in the direction of the dogs’ section. “We do it in groups since there’s so many of them. This way they can all get some attention and there’s less likely to be any issues or fighting.”

It’s not surprising to you that Eddie is a complete natural with the dogs when you get outside. He’s on the grass with them, rough housing, he plays fetch, and even runs laps around the yard with a few who just need to burn off their extra energy. The dogs all take to him so naturally—even the shy ones. It’s impossible not to smile as you watch the canines play with this golden retriever of a man. 

By the time the two of you bring the last round of dogs back inside, Eddie’s cheeks are rosy from exertion, his breathing is somewhat labored, and he has patches of dirt on him almost from head to toe. 

“Come here,” you say with a chuckle once you’ve snapped the last lock shut. 

There’s a battered door at the other end of the hall, and Eddie follows you over towards it. You jiggle the rusty doorknob and step into the small bathroom. There are a few stacks of towels lined up on the counter and you pull a teal one off the top of a pile. 

The scent of lemons fills the small space as you pump some hand soap onto the towel and wring it out with some water. 

You turn back to Eddie and motion for him to drop his chin. He does, and you push a few strands of curls back to wipe at the dirt on the left cheek and jawline.

“How’d you get this?” you ask with a chuckle.

“No idea,” he replies with a small huff of laughter. “I think it was when Yogi and I both dove for that tennis ball.”

The memory of Eddie and the chocolate lab both going for the toy brings a smile to your face as you clean off what you can of the dirt. 

“He’s a good boy,” you say. 

“What about me?” Eddie asks with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You laugh and toss the dirty towel in the laundry bin. 

“Yes, Eddie,” you tell him. “You were a good boy, too.”

Even though he’s the one who brought it up, he feels his face get warm.

“So, I’m actually headed out early today,” you say as you wipe your hands off on the sides of your jeans. “But I’m sure Brenda will let you know what you can do next.” It’s hard to keep the playful smirk off your face at the mention of the cantankerous receptionist.

Eddie drops his jaw and stares at you with mock annoyance.

“Playing hooky and leaving me with someone who makes Ms. O’Donnell look like a ray of sunshine? How dare you?”

You chuckle and shake your head.

“I mean, if you want to go get my cavity filled for me, I wouldn’t complain,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie winces, fighting off the urge to run his tongue over his teeth.

“Oof, okay. That’s a good excuse, I guess,” Eddie says. 

“I’m so glad you approve,” you tease. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Sure am.”

Honestly, Eddie has no idea if he’s scheduled to come in tomorrow or not, but he hardly doubts anyone would complain if he showed up for extra volunteering. 

“I’ll see you then.”

You give him one last smile before heading to grab your bag from the back room.

The next day, all the cats and kittens meow at you the moment you step foot into their room. 

“Hello, babies,” you greet them. “How’s my man Perry doin—” Your face falls when you see Perry’s usual crate empty of the senior cat. 

Despite the cries of protest, you back out of the cat room and hastily make your way to Brenda’s desk.

“Where’s Perry?” you ask without preamble.

“Got adopted,” Brenda responds, not looking up from the old issue of People Magazine she’s flipping through. 

“Oh.” You swallow and nod your head. “Good for him.” I didn’t get to say goodbye. 

A few tears fall as you head back to the cats and begin your daily cleaning routine. You are genuinely happy that Perry has found a home. Cats of his age don’t belong in a shelter, they belong with a family. Well, all cats do, but it’s especially harder for seniors. It’s the fact that you didn’t get to give him one more scratch between his ears or kiss the back of his head one last time that is upsetting you. He was so much a part of your daily life that it already feels empty in the shelter without him.

“Hey.”

Eddie’s voice startles you, causing you to jump and hit the back of your head on the roof of Chili and Pepper’s cubby. 

“Ow.” You wince and step back, bringing your hand up to hold the sore spot.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Eddie says, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to scare you—hey, are you okay?” Eddie frowns in concern when he sees the tear tracks running down your cheeks. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” you say before wiping off your face with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m fine. Just found out that Perry got adopted and I’m bummed I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”

“Oh.” The smile forming on Eddie’s pretty face doesn’t hold the tone of sympathy that you were expecting. He clears his throat and brings his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, um, actually, I’m the one who adopted him.”

Either your ears or brain are having a hard time grasping what Eddie just said, so it takes a few moments before it finally clicks.

“You? You adopted Perry?”

“Yeah.” There’s a prideful grin on Eddie’s face and it makes your heart rate pick up. “After you left yesterday, I went to say goodbye to him, and he kept pawing at me through the bars of the crate. I let him out and he wanted me to hold him. I kinda fell in love with him right then and there.”

Tears flood your eyes once more, but this time for an entirely different reason. 

“Oh, Eddie.” You chuckle and wipe at your misty eyes. “That makes me so happy. Perry deserves a good family, and I couldn’t have picked a better one. Thank you.”

“You can come by whenever you want to see him,” Eddie says, a nervous warble in his voice. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sure, uh, he’d love to see you more.”

A shy smile graces your features as you reply, “I’d like that, too.”

“So, no more tears,” Eddie says, stepping forward and using his thumb to gently erase any remains of your waterworks. 

“No more tears,” you agree, taking a deep breath. 

Before you can let the thought linger and overthink it, you lean forward and wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging his body close to yours. He tentatively wraps his arms around your body before holding you just as tightly as you’re holding him. 

Reluctantly, you pull away and take a step backward.

“So, what do you say?” you ask. “Should we get to work?”

Eddie drops into a bow and makes a grand sweeping gesture towards the cat cubbies. 

“Let’s do it.”

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Pet Play

Male Reader x Choi Yena

Length: 3966 words

Tags: pet play, you knew that, pet/master dynamic, blowjob, bad table manners, indulging in the pet kink, collar and leash, spankingas punishment, undressing, doggy, creampie, sex toys, overstimulation, kitten!Yena

TW: I guess if you don't like kitten Yena...

Inspiration: The great works of @writerpeach and @worldsover. Go check out their work on this specific... let's call it topic.

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for being my awesome co-writer and instigator of many BFH-sessions

(A/N: Looks like someone else is added to the family-harem, this time with a bit of an set up. Check out the previous story with the teaser for this one! Oh, and here are all the other chapters. Enjoy!)

"Sho tashty~"

Minju has no table manners, talking with food in her mouth. Well, the 'food' in question is your cock she is feverishly sucking from underneath the table while you and Yujin enjoy a nice, quick breakfast before Yujin has to leave for a group schedule. That's also why Minju is the only one naked, something she is perfectly accustomed to ever since you found the right room temperature for her.

"Before you go, I'll let you know that we have to move into a hotel for a week," you say as Yujin takes her final sip of coffee. 

"Why is that?"

"I bought the penthouse below and above us and want to connect them via some automated staircase. I promised the construction company a huge bonus if they finish in a week, so it shouldn't be longer than this. Damn Mr. Kim, I’d love to buy the entire building, but he is too greedy."

"Daddy," Minju asks from below, her soft fingers massaging your balls while she twirls your cockhead. "Why do we need so much space, so many rooms? Isn't this big enough?"

You take a quick glance at Yujin who shakes her head. This is not the right time, don't introduce Minju to the full family plan yet. Especially not when she is busy playing with cock, the only thing on her mind, on her tongue.

"I'll tell you later, Minmin."

"And I'll see you two later," Yujin says and gives you a quick tongue kiss while cupping your cheek. Too bad you can't cup hers because you are busy playing with Minju's hair. That’s not even a first world problem, so you’ll live with it. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too.

"Hey, Minmin, did you drop the bowl on purpose earlier?" you ask with Yujin out the door. Minju looks utterly confused, which is heart-meltingly cute.

"Why would Minmin do that, Daddy?"

"So I'd punish you and make you suck my dick?"

"B-but Minmin can suck your dick just by crawling in your office and opening my mouth. Why would she break Daddy's bowl?"

You laugh a little. This girl is too pure and impure at the same time.

#

Going on a date without Yujin feels quite odd, you must admit. What's even weirder is that you won't need to do it in secrecy, hidden from literally everyone. Today you just walk into the cafe, a gift underneath your arm and look for your date, a girl with colorful hair. At least she was last seen with light pink strands during a meet and greet. 

In the corner of the cafe is a table, in full light of the sunshine, falling in through crystal windows, and at said table is a small person, covered in a bucket hat, sunglasses and a large, black overcoat. Someone who likes to hide their identity to the world, but not you, because a flock of pink hair she flaunts from underneath the hat confirms your suspicion. It is your date.

"Do you mind if I just—"

"Oh, no, please, sit down~"

As you pull back the chair to have a seat, you intently watch the young woman remove her glasses and reveal her face to you. This is your first time seeing the Choi Yena up close in person, and with her gleeful smile, she really looks like a duck or cat or something adorable that you want to cuddle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," you tell her and raise your hand to get the waitress's attention. "Can I invite you for a treat or a beverage?"

"Oh, I'd love to," Yena says, mocking your formal, almost posh way of speaking, before she has a light bulb moment. "Wait, you're very—let’s say well off, right? Can I order whatever I want?"

Now the ducky cat has puppy eyes, for no reason, really. You're here on this friendly date and she seems to have some sort of issue that only a wise person can resolve—of course you'll treat her.

"Get yourself whatever you want, but please." You lean forward and whisper. "Don't order too much. I find it embarrassing if they have to throw good food away."

Yena grins widely and nods, before going on a spree to order all kinds of cupcakes, pastries and milkshakes. You raise an eyebrow and calmly sip your coffee as she digs down sweet treat after sweet treat after sweet treat. To your surprise, she is not only fully capable of eating all of it, but also willing to talk about the most random shit while stuffing her face with sugary goods. 

Yena lacks table manners, just like Minju did this morning.

You sit there and listen. Yena mostly talks about her daily life, mixed in with complaints about her company and sudden outbursts of adoration for IVE and their super star Yujin and how happy she is for you two. 

Then she goes on tangents about IZ*ONE and what the girls have been up to. She is sad about Wonyoung, who apparently decided to pursue some rich people stuff, just like Hyewon, but when you tell her that you and Hyewon are rather close (yeah, that's all you will tell her for now), she lights up once more.

"Really? I only heard rumors about her new, joined company buying huge shares in Starship. Do you like working for Hyewon-unnie?"

You put your cup of tea down and smile. "Something like that, yeah. But now, Yena, I'm pretty sure you're avoiding something."

"Wha-what do you mean?" Yena sweats profusely, not because the overcoat is too thick, though it is, but because you finally want to get to the point. Why were you here again?

"You know what I mean. The reason you wrote the letter, Yena. You have to tell me why, all I can do is make assumptions."

Yena wraps her lips around the straw of her milkshake and quickly drinks the remaining droplets until she makes this annoying slurping sound that has your temple in scrunches. Before you can complain however, Yena finally speaks up.

"I'll tell you, bu-but can you at least guess what it's about first."

"I can, but I have to warn you, I'm very honest and upfront, no nonsense, I might trample over your feelings or say something absurd, rude even."

Yena blushes and gulps. She is all ears to what you're about to say, which has you confident that your guess is spot on.

"I believe that you are very unsatisfied with your sex life and unsure how to act out the stuff you like, so you try to look for someone with experience who you can trust but is also not in your closessed circle."

"Is it that obvious!?” Yena quickly responds as not to let awkward silence fill a possible void in this conversation.

You nod and Yena throws her hands dramatically into the air. She looks embarrassed and a bit distraught that you were able to look right through her, without shame or hesitation. 

However, to your pleasant surprise, she is able to gather herself and speak like a proper grown up about her sexual frustration:

"Yeah, you were spot on. I have a lot of free time in between comebacks and schedules, which is nice and all, but I-I'm unsure about hook ups and scared that someone will... leak stuff. So I wanted to try normal dating, but even among other stars that is so ha-ard. I just want to fu-uck."

"That is very understandable," you say and lean back into the chair, feeling a bit like a therapist with an immorally large bulge in your pants. "But don't you think you could find a very loyal fan, who'd do anything for you, have an NDA ready and go for it? Or maybe you could go out of country, where they don't know you? I bet you still have a lot of options, and with a pretty face like yours, you're bound to find more than enough people to fu-uck."

Yena pouts at you mocking her pronunciation.

"But that's a lot of effort and little guarantee. I want something reliable, in this country and I can’t wait any longer.”

"You want a relationship where you can trust the other person," you summarize. "So... what was your goal with all this? We don't know each other and I'm in a relationship with Yujin. I don't get this from you point of view."

"I-I, it's just that I—I need someone with experience to guide me through this. And I have seen Yujin, her happiness, her smile, the glow around her. That's a woman that has good sex all the time, so please, tell me your secret." 

"I'm the secret, Yena. Do you want to take me from Yujin?" You stand up straight, face stern as Yena looks up at you, helpless and needy. "Finish up your milkshake, we'll take this somewhere else. Don't forget your present."

#

You picked out a nearby hotel, actually the first one that crossed your eyesight. As is often the case, you underestimated how high end these places can actually be. You already consider making this your home for the week your flat becomes unlivable. Minju won’t say anything against it, Yujin though might want something even more posh and polished. 

Good thing that you decided to wear that brown thousand dollar suit that makes you look like a mixture between gangster and manager, otherwise bringing a fully costumed stranger with you would have been an eye raiser. Now you're just some less important person bringing a celebrity to their room.

But it's your room, your money, your decision what’s about to happen. Yena walks in after you and stands in the middle of the vast, cozy room, adorned with all kinds of paintings, a carpet on a wooden floor, an impeccable color scheme from the darkest of brown to a soft beige. You sit down on the bed and look at the still dressed idol expectantly.

"Hm, which present do you want to open first: mine or yours?" you ask her, voice in deep thought as Yena removes her glasses once more.

"I-I don't know what you mean by your present but I think I'll open this."

Yena taps the wrapped box nervously, hoping for some kind of reaction from your part, but you leave her hanging and after agonizing seconds she begins to rip into the colorful wrapping paper. Yena opens the lid beneath and her eyes open wide.

"I know what you want, Yena. Don't underestimate me. Be blunt, be honest, most importantly,

"Be my good little pet, hm?"

Yena takes deep breaths when she pulls out a long, silver chain with a leather handle on one end and her favorite collar on the other. There is more inside it though: a pink feeding bowl with a cute kitten on it as well as a bullet vibrator, its cord and remote and a thigh strap. 

Yena drops the box and most items on the creme carpet when you put her chin between two of your fingers and tilt it up. She looks dreamy, you must have hit the spot to activate endless sexual possibilities and the urge to succumb to them right now. Honestly, you too have always wondered what it would be like to have a pet cat and now she is right here, ready to purr for you.

"What are you?" you ask, quietly, firmly, unmistakable power in your eyes. Yena melts in your fingers.

"Masters... good pet."

"Very good. After I have opened up my present, I expect my kitten to get into character. Because that is what good kittens do."

Without ever breaking eye contact, you begin to pop open the buttons of Yena's overcoat until it's time for the zipper to open up the curtains. In the meantime Yena loses her hat—maybe her mind along with it. You are in no rush to have her bare before you, after all, you left the world of haste and constant work behind. It's time to indulge in this thrilling moment, feel every second of this new life.

"Wow, what a beautiful kitten I have," you coo when you look at the skimpy stage outfit on Yena's body, a radical contrast to the all covering black of her overcoat which is thrown behind the bed.  The shortest of white shorts and a crop top that barely fits her are all that's left to hide Yena's private parts. 

"Now, how about I give my kitten the proper accessories, hm? C'mon, get the collar."

She is in a bit of a daze, your kitten, clumsily bowing down and reaching for the chain. Before she can straighten her back, you kick it out of her hand, and sigh deeply in disappointment.

"No, no, no, not like that. Get it like the little kitten you are."

The kick had her stunned, hurt a bit even, but now she knows what to do. Teaching your pet how to behave properly comes first, before any fun tricks can be trained. Yena begins to kneel and crawls to the collar. She picks the leather handle up with her teeth and carries it to you. 

"Good girl, you've done very well." Your praise comes with another reward. The tips of your fingers begin to scratch and tickle Yena's chin and she calmly purrs, lays her cheek into your hand, fuck, she isn't even cat coded anymore—

—she is living this.

"Kitten, I have many obligations, you know? Caring for Yujin is a handful too. But you, you'll be a good kitten for your Master, won't you? You'll never cause me any trouble, right?”

Yena responds with rapid nods. From her point of view, you are doing her a huge favor, with or without the approval of Yujin. She thinks you are taking risks and loves you for it. Her devotion is only natural, so you happily offer her a couple of fingers to suck on. 

While Yena indulges in getting her drool all over your fingers, you get the tight collar around her throat. It's a good thing that she already sent you this one, a different kind might not have been such a perfect fit. This one looks so natural on her and the thin chain is a great addition. 

"My kitten has fine taste. I think she deserves some belly rubs."

If she had a tail, Yena would probably swing it around in excitement. She won't go long without one, you already have plans of buying hundreds of toys for her—well, okay, these "plans" are just now forming, you’ll have to adjust the shopping list later—and a tail is at the top of that list. 

Purrs when Yena rolls over playfully, her arms and feet stretched away from her like paws and thanks to that crop top, you have perfect access to her midriff. The moment you touch her navel, she unexpectedly kicks upwards, right into your chest. A stinging pain, one you have to swallow down with a heavy gulp. That's how they are, wild, young, untrained pets. 

Nevertheless, they have to be taught properly. A good punishment is an essential part of their training.

"Some lying pet you are!” you snap at her. “How fucking dare you kick your Master!" 

Yena wanted to make a deal with the devil, a deal to be your pet. Unlike Minju or even Hyewon, she wants to be your literal property, not your girl, property and not a human. The treatment has to match the deal.

You easily lift the petrified idol-turned-kitten off the ground and place her bend over on your lap. Yena's cute, firm little butt is in your striking zone, while she desperately turns to face you. You hook a finger into her waistband and pull her shorts down to the folds of her asscheeks.

"Are you sorry, Kitten, for kicking your Master?" you ask Yena with a deeply judging tone. She nods with a deeply sorry expression. "Say that you're sorry!"

"I-I'm sorry, Master. I was a dumb kitten." Not enough meows in that sentence, but you will work on that later.

"What do you think you deserve now, kitten?"

"I de-deserve to be punished by Master.”

"That is right, kitten." You barely touch Yena's butt with the tips of your fingers, and she is already stiffening, readying for impact. To her surprise, your digits rather gently dig into her small cheeks and massage them in preparation. "But are you really sorry?"

"Yes, Master, yes I am—ah!"

The first hit always stings the most, to the point where involuntary tears stream down one's face and lips quiver uncontrollably. You don't let your hand rest on the red spot, instead lifting it up and striking again to make Yena's butt sore all over.

"You don't mean these words. I will have to hit you more."

"N-no, please!" Yena tries to push her upper body up but you make sure to keep her down, pinned to your thighs. "Master, I really, really am sorry!"

Another slap, straight on the same spot, enough to make Yena squirm out a pained meow. In the ensuing set of a dozen hits, six on each beautiful ass cheek, your kitten winces more and more, like a cat hurt in the wild. It tugs at your heart strings, surprisingly, but you continue regardless. When the set is finished, your fingers travel down Yena’s creek to her pussy.

"Do you like to be hit, kitten?" you ask calmly, two fingers gliding across Yena's labia, finding her clit. Yena purrs and shakes her head. "Do you think you need more punishment?"

"No, Master. Please, stop. I'll be a good kitten for you. I’m sorry."

Those dreamy, teary, glassy eyes—could they ever lie?

"I believe you.” A small pat on her head. “God, you are very cute, your hair is so silky and your little entrance is already getting wet." You remove your digits and show the tiny strings of arousal that remain in between when you spread them before her eyes. 

You take your time, again, no reason to rush. Climb on the bed, watch Yena rest on her knees before it. A light tug at the chain and Yena gets it. Today, she'll be allowed on the bed, just for this special occasion.

"Thank you, Master," she purrs and you comb through the pink, smooth hair. You give her a final smile before getting behind her. Belts and pants have never stopped you from getting what you need, to the point you'll probably disregard them entirely in the future.

This future in your home, with all these girls; Yujin and Minju already live there, Eunbi and Hyewon will surely follow. Chaewon is a wild card, probably a couple of sessions away from any commitment. And then there is Yena. 

Will she commit to being your pet full time? Or is this a one off thing for her, to get rid of all the sexual tension you feel on her soaked and hot pussy lips that graze your tip? The extent of her kink is still a mystery to you.

"Relax, my little kitten, here comes your favorite cock.”

How can she know if this is her favorite? It's been ages since something this big and girthy has spread her open, pushed past any tension and made her feel full. Comparing this to those she had in the past is impossible—but not because of the difference in time or position or foreplay. 

The comparison fails because your massiveness makes Yena's brain short circuit. All stages of humanity and human behavior are shut off; when your tip presses against her cervix, she goes straight to purring, meowing more than moaning.

Yena is incredibly tight, mostly because this is the first time she has something so big inside her, you assume, so you give her time for adjustments, slow movements, even slower rubs on her back, then her belly. 

"Let's get rid of this." And you do get rid of her top, see her small breasts jiggle, the tiny, hard nipples too, when Yena is ready to move on her own.

Her kitten butt moves in a mesmerizing dance, not only a linear back and forth, but a subtle shimmy from side to side. You get to see your cock glazed in her sweet juice, then it disappears in that cavern again. Up to this point, you're just kneeling behind your kitten, undressing further and further, sometime pulling the chain to get her back into that doggy position—it seems that she likes the slow fuck.

"You are such a good kitten," you groan and lean towards Yena's ear until she can't push backwards anymore. "What do you say, next time we're alone, you get some ears and a tail?"

"Bu-but Master," Yena murmurs, face now in the mattress because you start pushing yourself into her. "What about Yujinnie, your girlfriend?"

"Don't you want to stay with us? Get head pats from my good baby girl too?" 

Don't give her time to think about it. This revelation of your open and rather complex relationship might have been too early. So thrust harder into her and make the entire bed shake, her brain a useless mush. Yena's toes curl as she bites the sheets below her and lifts her ass a bit higher for easier access. She gets wetter and tighter, a clear sign of enjoyment, of thrill that is soon to be bliss.

Without warning you yank at the chain. Yena chokes hard, quickly getting back into the doggy position which you immediately use to fuck her roughly against the backboard of the bed. 

The chain in your hand, the thought of a personal pet and its snug cunt make you greedy for your own orgasm which always comes before hers, however only in terms of relevance. Yena has finally adjusted to your width, length and the harsh grip you exert on her collar. She drools and purrs, until an ultimate, mindless scream leaves her mouth. Her knees begin to buckle as she cums on your length, that pistoning length, in and out of her cunt, completely disregarding her sensitivity.

"Oh, looks like my kitten is wetting herself. Look, you're ruining the sheets! Such a dumb little pet."

Yena doesn't even hear the taunting. She holds onto some pillows, then the backboards, as you applaude her for the resilience by fucking faster and making the pelvis on ass sounds louder and louder.

"Me-me-meow~" Yena's irises disappear in her head. The idol has fully become your kitten; in due time to you surrendering to the tight grip of her cunt by cumming. A day's worth of semen, directly into her womb, and you tell yourself that she is safe today. She has to be, otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to your dick inside her.

"Ma-Master, so much," Yena breathes and her paws try to remove all the sticky hair from her sweaty face.

"You better not spill it on the sheets, kitty. Keep it inside your pussy, all of it." You pull out and immediately get up close with the pink snatch. Yena clenches her muscle, trying to force her pussy to stay shut.

"So, so much—I can't ho-old it!"

With that said, Yena loses some of your precious cream. She just lets it fall out of her in an incredibly lewd display that has you smiling at her embarrassed expression. In a scramble of genius and horniness, you find the bullet vibrator and shove it inside Yena’s cunt before she can ruin more of the bed. Her ensuing moan is music to your ears.

"I guess my kitten is not yet potty trained. We need to change that as soon as we can.

"Wouldn’t you agree?"

[soiwj]

Has anyone imagine Arlecchino with a s/o who's emotionally detached, someone who's cold, indifferent, and rude to anyone they meet. They won't go out of their way to be mean but they make it clear that they don't like people. Then they're dense so anything and everything goes over their head that has to do with romantic interests.

Loosens up after they accept someone to be on friendly terms with them but is still inadvertently an ass, simply because that's their natural self. (The only thing that gets a positive response is Kitties)

I find it funny imagining someone trying to court them and they simply don't notice.

Arlecchino: *gives them flowers*

S/o: *staring at the flowers blankly* "who are these for exactly?"

Arlecchino: *this the 30th time she has tried to catch their attention* "You."

S/o: *Confused* "oh, thank you. I'm not a big fan of flowers but I guess I'll keep them"

-----------

Arlecchino(a few days later): "We're Dating."

S/o: "what?"

Arlecchino: *dragging them to a restaurant by the back of their shirt* "we're dating." *She ran out of patience and took the initiative to make her actions clear*

S/o: "do I have a choice?"

Arlecchino: "No."

S/o: "ok...?"

Arlecchino: "Good"

Omg this is adorable hold on lemme cook

Im sorry this is so late!!!

Esteemed Guest

Arlecchino x detached!GN!reader

Synopsis: reader works at a restaurant where arlecchino takes an interest in them.

It was a peaceful day at the restaurant. Well, more peaceful for the customers than for you. You're known at your job and around town for being quite indifferent to everyone. You can't count how many times you've been told to smile more. It's exhausting.

You go through your usual routine of taking orders, serving food and answering questions about allergens when your manager calls you aside for a second. "Hey, there's a special guest coming in a few minutes. Could you take out the trash before they arrive?"

You nod your head yes as you walk to the back of the restaurant, having picked up the plastic bags on your way. You set them down as you look around at the street. A cute kitten catches your attention as it's wandering towards the trash bags. You run inside looking for some spare tuna from one of the dishes. You sneak out of the kitchen, tuna in hand, to feed the kitten.

Arlecchino has never been a slacker. Better yet, she is the exact opposite. Structured and cautious. That's why she's never late to anything. Just like right now, she's a few minutes early. As she walks around the restaurant, looking at the building from all possible angles, she sees you. Crouched down, holding some fish out towards a small cat. The genuine smile on your face sparks a slight flame in her heart. She finds the sight quite endearing. As she sees you going back inside, she walks back to the front of the restaurant, greeting the owner.

You see a black and white haired figure being led to the VIP area. You catch her gaze as she sends you a slight smirk. How strange. You just stare at her in confusion as she walks by.

Not even 5 minutes after your cowerker was supposed to serve them, your manager calls out to you. "Our esteemed guest has asked for you to serve them during their meal." Your brows furrow as you look at him, confused. "Why me?" Your lifeless tone as indifferent as ever. "I'll give you a bonus?" You sigh as you start walking to the VIP lounge.

The dim lighting and gold ornate decorations are starting to give you a headache. You enter the room, looking the black and white-haired woman directly in the eyes. Usually, people tend to be scared of Arlecchino off the bat. It might be because of her eyes or her demeanor. But you're not. Your blank face stares at her as you hand her the menu, muttering a quiet 'here'. She looks intrigued as she opens the menu, reading through the options quite quickly.

"Are you on the menu?" She winks. "Uh, no, not really. There's not many restaurants here or anywhere that condone cannibalism?" Your face is painted with a semi concerned experssion at her taboo request. She giggles, finding your obliviousness quite entertaining. "I'll have a bourbon. No, actually make that two." You furrow your brows at her again. "Is someone else joining your table?" She nods, her smirk still very present. You walk back to the bar, giving the order to the bartender. She quickly finishes pouring the drink as you walk back to the client.

You set the glasses down as you realize the clients' guest is still not here. "When is your guest going to arrive? The drinks will get warm if you wait too long." You state. "Oh don't worry dear, she has just arrived." She's gazing at you like a predator would their pray.

"I don't see anyone -" you say as you look towards the entrance. Before you can finish your sentence, you get pulled down onto the couch seat next to the woman. She sets the bourbon glass in front of you as she throws back hers. "It's against restaurant policy to drink on the job." You say, looking her straight in the eye. Unbothered by your cold behavior, she throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

She sighs as she contemplates your words. "How about this then, do you work tomorrow?" Her eyes start wandering as she waits for you to answer the question. "No, it's my off day." A sly smirk appears on her face at the words. She gets closer to your face as she observes your lips. Looking down at you, she says, "You and me, dinner tomorrow, here." Confusion settles on your face at the suggestion. "Why would I come in on my off day?" She laughs softly at your confusion. Realizing that you misunderstood her. "No, I meant as my date."

You're confused as to why she would invite you, a mere server, to be her dinner guest. Nonetheless, you don't have anything to do tomorrow so you might as well see where the dinner leads you. "Alright, well, I can't really pay. My wage isn't that big." She looks at you amused. "Don't you worry about that, Doll."

The next few days have been quite exciting compared to your monotone life. Although you're still as cold as ever, you're starting to warm up to Arlecchino.

You often wake up to flowers in your mailbox and deliveries of expensive goods at your door. You appreciate her gifts but you just don't understand why Arlecchino is doing all of this. Until now.

"We're dating." What? The candles on the table are lit. Your living room's currebt dim lighting sending shivers up your spine. The fumes of the spaghetti lay in front of you, filling your senses as you try to make sense of what's happening. You look up at her, confused as always. "I said what I said. Any objections?" You're flustered, but you can't seem to deny how enticing that relationship status sounds to you. Especially because it's with Arlecchino. She stands up from the table, swiftly moving to you as she holds your chin, tilting it up. "You're mine." She puts her lips on yours, "forever."

Wow that took me a while but i did it!!!

[katerinasas]

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT. 🖤 coriolanus snow x fem!reader

in which mrs snow finds something she must keep. and who his coriolanus to tell her no?

fluff ☁️

-

the garden behind the presidents mansion was beautiful, no doubt about it. coriolanus snow married his wife back there and he watched her from the window of their bedroom as she worked in it in all her free time and whenever the uv was above a 7.

he insisted he hire a gardener to “protect her pretty hands” but she declined over and over again. it was her outlet. her one “real” hobby that didn’t involve hiding away in the grand library coriolanus built for her.

large green bushes she trimmed so delicately and the stone path she’d managed to put in place her self. orange, red, pink, and yellow flowers everywhere with small blue ones trickled without. coriolanus had put a picnic table in it where they ate on occasion.

the only thing she didn’t like was the fence that guarded it to keep people and cameras out. it wasn’t very pretty, but as first lady secret services insisted, and so did coriolanus. it kept her hard work from public eye and left it only to be seen in photos inside magazines that didn’t do it justice. but the fence seemed to have failed.

kneeled in dirt, her gold necklace with a ‘C’ engraved in it hanging over it, she planted strawberry seeds in hopes they’d actually be good this year. focused on what she was doing, trying to avoid a repeat of last years berries, her focus dropped as she heard a weak meow. she turned around, only to hear it again. she stood, wiping her dirty hands on her pants, walking along the path in hopes of finding the source when suddenly she saw her.

a small kitten. she was light brown with dark spots, almost like a cheetah. mrs snow had not a clue how the animal had gotten in, but it must’ve been fate, she thought. “hi,” she whispered, kneeling down and gently reaching forward. the kitten meowed and she took that as her way of saying “yes, you can pick me up.”

she held the kitten all day long, leaving her in her lap when she read and holding her in one arm as she helped one of the snow’s maids, clarissa, with a task. she was already in love with the small animal as she waited for her husband to get home, ready to beg and plead to keep it.

“hmm,” she hummed gently to the kitten. she sat in her lap at the piano, mrs snow’s fingers gently playing soft chords as she stared down at her. “what about… lorelei?” the kitten stood and did a little spin bringing a laugh out of her. “you like that?”

“like what?” coriolanus echoed from the foyer, dropping his keys on the table. “i didn’t know you were having company, darli-”

“suprise,” she said with a smile, standing from the bench, holding the kitten to her chest. “i found her in the garden. i don’t know how she got in but,” she frowned, running a finger down her nose. “it rained last night, it must’ve been awful.”

coriolanus stood over her, a firm hand on her shoulder. “well, you must know we can’t keep it,” he said as if it was obvious. his hand brushed over his wife’s head, refusing to acknowledge the cat because he was sure if he did he’d give in.

“no i don’t. why can’t we?” she moved out from his touch, holding the kitten up to his eyes. “please, coryo?”

“no,” he swallowed, doing his best not to give into her temptation. they couldn’t have a cat. it didn’t seem… scary to him. not presidential, not like the pet of a man who led a country and 12 districts.

but his wife was persistent. she frowned up at him, holding the cat to her chest as she purred. “coryo,” she whined. “look at her. she’s just a baby. her mom was out of sight, i looked, and she already likes me. she even picked out her name.”

“i said-”

“please?” she gave him her best puppy eyes, her free hand on his chest.

coriolanus bit the inside of his cheek before sighing. “i guess.” he stumbled back as his wife pulled him into a side hug, kissing his cheek over and over again. red lipstick prints covered his face as she offered him the cat which he took with a small smirk. “what name did she pick?”

“lorelei,” she smiled.

“hm,” he nodded, holding the creature awkwardly. “i like it.” after a few moments he looked up. “you’re impossible to say no to, you know that?”

his wife only smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “you love me.”

“you’re a master manipulator and i’m an easy target or i love you, call it what you want.”

“i’ll call it you love me,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him softly.

“then i guess i’ll call it that, too,” he said, his arm holding her close to him as the pair smiled at the new member of their family.

saw this kitty on pinterest and knew what i had to do.

I LOVE CATS!!!!!!!!!

#cantspellcatswithoutTS

[pawpatrollss]

Cat disaster!

jschlattxfem!reader

Summary: You had just moved in togehter, what you did not stop to think about was the now three cats causing mahem.

Warning: my bad writing, and I did not check my spelling at all so DON’T come for me!”

Boxes were still everywhere, you and schlatt ate from paperplates or ordered in everyday and slept on the blow up mattress that was already broken.(thanks to jambo..)

Life was great basically.

You had been dating for almost a year before deciding to move in together into a new place in New York. But what you both hadn’t stopped to think about was the now three cats running around the apartment.

Jambo was usually the chill one, but ”burnt soup” and your cat megatron(named by schlatt obv) which was still a kitten, tried to make everything difficult for you two every single day.

”NO! DOWN! i swear to fucking god megatron i will throw you off the balcony.”

Was the first thing you heard opening the apartment door, coming back from the grocery store.

”what is happe-”

The next thing you saw was the tv going down the table and screen first onto the hardwood floor and a horrible crash could be heard, the cats bolted around the place.

”I SWEAR-” Schlatt started before letting out a harsh sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

”Well, it was a pretty shitty tv?” You hesitated to say seeing the foul mood schlatt was in today.

You were both exhausted from the move and the shitty matress thats was like a carpet now didn’t exactly promise the best sleep.

”..yeah i guess it was” schlatt sighed again but slightly laughed.

Megatron the little shit rubbed herself gainst schlatt leg and meowing at him.

”You little shit” He laughed considering actually throwing the cat out the window but decided not to since you would probably not be too happy with him.

You put the groceries away in the kitchen before jumping down on the couch closing your eyes for a second. Then some small feet could be felt walking over your stomach and then a small body collapse against your neck.

Opening one eye you saw the little furry fucker lay basically under your nose all snuggled up. You gave the cat some scratches and she purred loudly.

”She cost us a whole new ass tv and just fucks off and gets cuddles with MY girl?!” Schlatt exclaimed lifting his arms up pointing to the cat before letting them fall back dowm and hit the sides of his legs loudly.

”She’s just a baby?” You said in a disgusting baby voice kissing the top of megatrons head and smiling at schlatt at his irritaded form. It was kinda funny.

”No. No, that’s not- jesus I give up..” He said before plobbing down on the couch next to you. Hungergames was still playing on your laptop from before you had left for the store.

Megatron stirred from her slumber and crawled over to schlatt’s lap instead.

”See she’s saying sorry!” You said laughing at his now even more irritaded face, well he tried to stay irritaded at the adorable cat. But ended up failing misserbly.

”Fine, i forgive you, you little fucker.” He said pulling the kitten closer to himself.

You gave schlatt a small kiss on the cheak before turning back to the laptop that was purched on the coffee table.

”Jambo don’t get too close to that or it will fa-”

Crash, glass shatter, and a scream was the noice next.

You were now the one who LOST it, so you scremead into schlatt shoulder.

Schlatt bursted out laughing, probably cause this was your laptop not his. He kissed your temple before getting up to clean the mess away.

”I hate everyone..”

[mayearies]

CATS ALIKE .. miles g. morales ⟡

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 miles g. morales x fem! reader , fluff , no disclaimer

𐦍༘⋆ SYNOPSIS; you wanted a cat. miles did not. he made this pretty clear. he ignored, dismissed, and persuaded you to stop asking for a while. however, it came back again and again and again. guess how he caved.

WC; 728

𐦍༘⋆ NOTES; old fic i wrote also test for engagement i guess

౨ৎ

he purposely avoided your eyes for a while now. a little bit too long for both of your liking. he flipped through thr channels on the tv as he held you in his lap and you kissed him all over his face, muttering the word ‘please’ without break.

miles grumbled, knowing he would cave pretty soon. he had a sweet tooth for those chocolate lips of yours. he sighed loudly, throwing his head back on the arm of the sofa before looking at you with an annoyed expression. “if i do this for you, promise me you’ll shut up about it.” you nodded in glee.

you knew how to hold your end of the bargain, just one small favor. one small thing couldnt hurt his cold and stoic soul. he took you to the nearest petshop on the block since you wanted this more than ever. a cat.

miles didn’t like the idea. he was away most nights and didnt want something there to create more of a mess than you already did of his room (he would scold you but you knew he didnt really care that much). he could think of a million reasons why this was a bad idea. the only plus was that it was cute.

“which one you want, ma?” he followed you down the isle of cages and cries of the kittens, “preferably not the ones that shed a lot.” his voice sounded uneasy and skeptical. he knew how bad you wanted this.

“relax a little. these little things are so cute, how could you not want one?” 

he crossed his arms and watched as you stuck your hands into the bars to pet each one of them, to which some would hiss and deny. “maybe because i dont like cats,” he hissed. “their fur gets everywhere.”

“i say it’s worth it,” you replied sassily to match his tone.

“of course you do.”

you saw one in particular that caught your attention. a black cat that was missing an eye. the shopkeeper said he was born that way and that nothing was wrong with him. he was adorable, just as fiesty too. it didnt let you touch it until it smelled your hand. even then it was still ready to fight. reminds you of someone else you know. “i want this one.”

“the things i do for you.”

you laughed under your breath, “you say it like it’s a bad thing.”

that night, you were so excited to play with the little guy. miles however, could care less. he didnt want much to do with it. well, it may not come off as that because he bought the most expensive bed and cat litter for it, despite it being no older than a few weeks. 

you wanted to play with it first, but where’s the fun in that? “how about, i set up the cat litter and stuff and you get to know our new friend together?” miles raised an eyebrow as he set down the carrier. “is this some typa excuse?”

“no! just spend some time with it. last thing i ask, i promise.”

miles sighed and agreed. so much for promises. he opened the cage and waited for it to crawl out, but it didn’t. the sudden change in enviornment and scent must’ve been just kicking in. he reached his finger into the cage and felt the ends of the whiskers ticking it. then, it licked him. he wasn’t taken aback by it but it felt odd.

you finished installing the cat litter box and started walking towards the living room once you heard the tv on again, “so, how’d it-“ and the last thing you thought you’d see tonight just laid in front of you. miles was watching the screen as the little furball wrapped around itself on his chest. it was purring and by the torn fabric in his hood, you could tell it was kneading him.

“well, look who got along,” miles glared at you for that as you walked over to lay down behind him. “still don’t like cats?”

he playfully scoffed and rolled his eyes, his fingers drifting and gazling along the fur of its tail. “im still wondering why you chose that name for him.”

“whats wrong with it?” 

“who names their cat ‘meows morales?’”

@ MAYEARIES ‘23

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of my First Friend.

In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.

But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.

Please don’t leave me behind.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.

"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."

"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.

"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."

"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"

"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!”

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

And may it remain that way, forevermore.

[syoddeye]

the warren, part six - natural

price x f!reader | 5.9k words | series page | ao3 tags: background ghoap, italicized flashbacks, skinny dipping, bathing, cunninglinus, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, darkfic. a/n: fireworks followed by fireworks. shout out to early and the arrangement. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune. 🔪

This must be what it feels like to open a tomb.

Fetid air sweeps over your cheeks. Warm and stagnant, smelling of earth and metal.

The room is maybe eight by ten feet and sinks another six down to an unfinished floor of exposed dirt and rock. Thin pipes run from under the floorboards and into the wall, disappearing further underground. An empty, dusty stack of wooden shelves stands bolted to the cement walls. You’d think it’s an old root cellar—if it weren’t for the door.

Four paneled. Old and weathered yet sturdy looking. You don’t dare hop into the pit to test the heavy lock affixed to it; no way you could climb out.

You take a photo, shut the hidden hatch, and smooth the rug over it.

It’s nothing. Has to be. Kate would’ve told you about it if it mattered. You haul the couch over it anyway and tuck into bed with a knife. In the small hours, you decide to call the landlady at breakfast, perhaps Phil too, for good measure.

~~

“Oh, that? Old storm cellar.” Kate sounds amused, as if your trepidation is a cute joke. “The Warrens were originally from Tornado Alley. Hated storms. Brought that hate with them.”

“Where does the door lead?”

“A storage room. I emptied it.”

You lean against the counter, staring at the rug with your thumb caught between your teeth in thought. Since your arrival, you’ve seen two storms of note. Thunder and lightning, but nothing like the furies that roll over the Great Lakes, the ones that rattled the shutters and windows or leaked from cracks in the ceiling. Certainly no tornadoes. You, of all people, know what it is to carry a fear. A hatred.

“Everything alright?”

You fish for reassurance. “Yes. I feel silly, that’s all.”

The hook goes ignored. “Mhm.” 

“Guess I’ll move the couch back.” You laugh, apologize for troubling her, and leave the couch where it sits.

You don’t call Phil. You’d sound ridiculous.

Later, you sneak some extra work in, at least you try to. A mechanical whir putters then skips. You swear a wisp of smoke leaks from the disk drive. The old laptop that could, no more. Rendered a fossil, unresponsive to your troubleshooting. Frustration burns your belly, whittling your patience to naught. It fractures at the ring of your phone.

“Yes?” You snap, instantly searing yourself with the white-hot brand of guilt. “I’m so sorry, hello?”

John chuckles. “Bad time?”

“John. Oh, no. I–I’m not scheduled today, am I?”

“No, you’re alright. Shop’s slow, so I thought I’d check in.” He pauses. “If you’re busy, I can chat later.”

“I’m not. Unexpectedly so,” you shove your laptop off your lap, rising from bed. You stretch and pace to the kitchen. “Mind if I keep you company? See the kittens?” Best clear your head.

“I’d be delighted.”

~~

The kittens are feral. You know this, yet their instinctive rejection smarts. From a sun-bleached lawn chair, you watch them tussle and spar in the shade of John’s building. Their mother, the first time you’ve seen her, lounges on the welcome mat. She’s a proud creature. Big and gray like a storm cloud.

You haven’t come around to John’s understanding concerning the cats. The queen tolerates one of her kittens, nearly too old to nurse, as it tries to latch. You wonder if the baby’s a female. If she, like her mother, will fall pregnant in a few months. If she’ll end up with an unseasonably late litter, born to frost and snow rather than wildflowers and sunlight.

“Beautiful thing,” John observes, emerging from the garage with an ice-cold soda. He slots it in your hand and plants himself in the chair beside you. “Mama and her babies.”

“It’s something.”

“They’ll be off on their own soon. They’ll do fine.”

“And if not?” If one of the area’s predators doesn’t get to them, the road awaits.

“Then that’s that. Nature takes its course.”

You hate that he’s not wrong. Falling prey to a beast or an accident is simply what happens to creatures like the kittens. You chew your lip, thinking of how immutable that truth might’ve been once, but now? With the means to prevent all the unnecessary heartache? Knowing John’s attitude on man’s interference, you don’t voice it. Knowing your own.

You catch him staring. There’s something in the way his eyes linger. A quiet intensity that betrays the hunger he’s set aside for your benefit. Unspoken but raw. Crude. It claws at you as much as it does him.

Later, in the shower, you reacquaint yourself with your softer parts. You rouse a lovely pressure but fumble. It slips through your fingers and down the drain with the water.

~~

Your first inventory trip to Ponderosa arrives. The ride is more pleasant than the last, and John shoos you away to the library when you try to help at the town depot. He warns you it’s a lot of dull conversation and lifting, so you slink off.

The whole town’s decorated for the Fourth. Its two hotels are bursting at the seams, sidewalk patios filled with folk. A shuttle to a resort ten minutes away stops in front of the coffee shop, making the decision to delay your visit for you.

The Ponderosa Public Library is cozy and welcoming. The gleaming white stone floor of the entrance lends a hallowedness. Phil Graves’s drawl drifts through your head at the sight of a local history display positioned near the front, but the honeyed voice of the librarian hooks your attention. Draped in a floor-length cardigan, the kindly older woman eagerly waves you in. She’s thrilled to register you with a temporary card when you inquire.

“I can count on one hand how many visitors have signed up this summer. Two!” She laughs. “Your name?”

~~~

In the pre-dawn stillness of the desert, the landscape is a vast, empty stretch painted in muted hues of gray and indigo. Hints of morning light graze the earth and highway, devoid of traffic aside from the occasional tumbleweed. The openness feels expansive yet intimate. Alien, yet familiar. Desolation and your lonely home of some years. Where life makes the best of it. The most stability you’ve ever known.

You arrive in town five minutes past seven.

Passing the gas station, you keep your head down and ring hand displayed to let the synthetic gemstone reflect the sun. It doesn’t stop one trucker from leaning out of his cab with an appreciative whistle.

The library’s office light is on, so you knock on the staff entrance. Robin lets you in thirty seconds later, chattering on about a game show. You clean the bathrooms while she prepares the rest of the branch to open. You finish with minutes to spare and settle at the boxy computer that keeps your back to a wall.

The usual patrons file and out in as you send a dozen inquiry emails to writing gigs and delete rejections. You write a father of the bride speech for $50, your biggest job yet. Every sentence is a penny, and pennies add up. You’ll have enough for the car, gas, and computer in a few months. Everything is planned out and locked safely away in your head, except for one detail.

You traipse slowly along the geography shelf, hand poised like a dowsing rod, waiting for a feeling. Your fingers brush a spine and shiver. Idaho Cities and Townships. Paging to the index, you trace your finger down the list like you’re looking for the right scripture in church. The psalm to sing. Something pulls your finger to a place called Grouse Bay. It burrows under your skin and nails. Hope. 

~~~

You revere librarians. They’re the only people you’ve met who never pry, lest it be to help you. Jeanne, the librarian of this particular branch, leaves you to peruse without hovering. The bangles on her arms clink together like a bell on a cat. She minds herself until you approach the checkout with a short stack.

“Excellent choices, sweetie. These’ll keep you plenty company.” She scans them, apprising you of the upcoming fireworks, but abruptly pauses. Her eyes stare past you. “Are you expecting a handsome fella? A Brawny Man lookalike?”

From outside, John waves with a smile. You return both. “I am.”

She whistles low and slides the books to you with a knowing look. “I take it back. He’ll be plenty of company.”

Outside, John hooks a finger in your tote the moment you’re within reach and peers inside. Nosy. 

“A couple of romances, nothing you’d like.”

“That so? You don’t think I’d like…The Arrangement?” 

You bat at his hand, clutching your haul and tilting away as you walk. “I highly doubt it.”

A waggish grin lights up his face. If the man on the front cover of that particular text bears a resemblance to him, it’s pure coincidence.

On the ride home, his hand inches over your thigh. You let it rest and take another long shower.

You still can’t scratch the itch.

~~

Despite John’s preparations, the Fourth of July cleans the grocer out of booze, cigarettes, and just about everything else. The store shuts after lunch, and he talks you into a boat ride. 

“I didn’t know you owned a boat.”

“I don’t,” He hefts a cooler onto the tailgate, the last stash of crusher beer inside. “Kate does. Nik just patched her up.”

“Wish he’d fix my car.” Nikolai mentioned the part was delayed two weeks and blamed a train derailment further West. 

Kate’s home is an aging two-story half a mile down the lakeside road. Two juniper trees bracket the entrance, with twin rows of bluebells and dogbane lining the path. Her Ranger sits under a carport, flanked by a muddy ATV and an old Bronco.

You shoulder your bag and walk to the rear of John’s truck, studying the unfamiliar vehicles. “Who else is joining us?”

“Hello, rabbit.” A gruff voice purrs. Outdoors, Simon looks larger than life with no fixture or frame to duck. His muscles bulge under a black t-shirt, the skin on his arms more bronzed than his face. However, as he steps directly behind you, leaning over you to grab the cooler, you see faint tan lines around his eyes.

You whip around to face the cab, trying to not look so obvious with your failed escape attempt, and see John’s mouth flatten. Simon’s chest brushes and bumps your back, pelvis ghosting your hip as he effortlessly hauls the packed cooler over your head. The smell of burnt rubber, oil, and sweat is fleeting but intense.

“How’s the boat?” John slams his door. You flinch and hastily close the rear gate. 

“Glorified sardine tin.” Simon clears his throat and spits, then jerks his head. “C’mon.”

You follow in silence, crossing the road and descending a creaky staircase built into the slope of the hillside leading to the lake. Kate’s boat is bigger than you imagined, a double-decker pontoon. She and Nik stand at the mooring fixed to an aluminum dock, and as you step onto the last shallow flight, a man emerges from the cabin.

His grin is a crescent set on a chiseled jaw and hard to look away from. He isn’t as tall as Simon, but cuts just as imposing of a figure with wide shoulders and thick arms. He bounds closer, greeting the three of you like an excitable dog. Simon passes by, mumbling something that makes the man straighten and lock on to you with eyes an unnerving shade of blue, cynoid. Nothing like John’s.

John gently nudges you ahead and supplies your name. “And this is Soap. He’s Simon’s partner.”

Partner. That’s not as comforting as you want it to be. “Soap?”

An accent wraps around his words, catching you off guard. “Aye. Soap. Heard a lot about ye.”

“Good things I hope?”

He leans, voice dropping into a conspiratorial but genial whisper. “Plenty. Though if ye got a naughty streak, I won’t tell.”

The breeze off the lake doesn’t abate the heat his compliment evokes. A whiff of acetone blends with mint wafts off him, but it’s his nostrils that flare. He’s sniffing you. “I don’t–”

“Soap!” Simon barks.

“Chat later.” He whispers, then answers Simon’s call, disappearing with his counterpart.

A bit dazed, you greet Kate, and she steers you aboard. John unmoors the boat with Nik muttering in his ear, and you’re shown the prime seat at the bow. Kate takes the helm, and within minutes, the pontoon putters away from shore to join the dozens of vessels dotting the lake. Simon and Soap return with armfuls of bottles and cans, someone turns the satellite radio on, and John fits himself to your side. You don’t know the last time you celebrated the Fourth, and here you are, toasting two Brits, a Scot, and a Russian. If there’s a punchline, you hope to find it.

A flask eventually appears. You refuse, watching Soap’s mouth pucker in disgust and Nikolai drinking deep like it’s water. John squeezes your shoulder, his arm draping over you with his thigh pressed to yours.

He murmurs, “Why don’t you go see Kate? Get some girl talk in?” 

Kate doesn’t seem the type for girl talk, but how the others seem to hold their breath at John’s suggestion propels you to your feet.

You find Kate atop the upper deck, sprawled with a book and a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. The boat rides the wake of passing speedboats, forcing you to crawl and sit cross-legged. You barely hear the men below save for another toast.

“Too much for you, huh?” Kate asks, taking a drag.

It’s a conscious decision to not mention girl talk. “Yep. They’re…a lot.”

She snorts and lets the conversation wither early on the vine, probably for the best. She is your landlord.

Basking in the sun, you drink your warming beer and watch the water. Listen to the whoops and hollers across the lake.

When your father moved you across state lines to a ramshackle home perched atop a steep hill, you often crept onto the roof to do just this. They called that lake an unsalted sea, vast and untamed. Choppy with whitecaps and an unfathomable shade of blue, always darker than the sky above. You lived in fear of it, listening dutifully when your father carped on your morbid fascination. He banned you from trekking to its shores.

As a child, he suffered visions of you getting swept up by a rogue wave. You believed him, wanting him to care. As a teenager, you wondered if it was his way of protecting you from the men who prowled the docks, the boogeymen in the dark. His tacit acknowledgment of your growing older. Now, a thousand miles and a lifetime away, you know it’s because he simply didn’t want another prisoner to escape.

The first man whose love you wanted tried to trap you with water. The second dragged you to a desert. Looking down at John, your stomach twists. The third time’s a charm. He’s not like them.

“Rabbit.” Soap’s shaggy head pokes over the deck’s edge. “Mind if I join?”

Kate turns a page, you scoot, and Soap hoists himself up.

“So. You and John. What’s that like?” He laughs at your wince. “C’mon. Dinnae be shy. Been a minute since someone’s turned his head.”

“It’s…new.”

“New. Aye. Steamy? At eachother like–”

“Christ,” Kate grumbles, suddenly rocking up to a seated position, simultaneously stubbing out her cigarette as she slides to the edge. “I don’t need to hear this.”

Soap snickers. “Dinnae mind her.”

Sensing a sliver of an opening, you redirect. “John said you and Simon were partners. How long have you been together?”

“Years, I reckon. Hard to picture life before him. I was a mess. Workin’ at his shop’s done me good.”

“Oh, I thought you were partner partners.”

He grins. “No, yer not mistaken. We’re partners in business an’ bed.” 

With a gentle dig, his elbow finds your ribs, and you feign an affable chuckle into your drink. The cheap beer’s too tepid to stomach, but you swallow, hide a grimace and push on. “What brought you here?”

Soap rolls his shoulders and finally casts his gaze elsewhere. “Wanted to see the world. I was an artist. I fucked off from home at sixteen an’ never returned. Wandered for years. Traveled all over.”

Sixteen. Incomprehensible. Not that eighteen was much better, but you weren’t alone. 

“And you stopped here?” You came to Grouse Bay to hide. Picked it at random. To think someone else did the same seems kismet.

“I ken. Ye probably think I’m daft. Of all the places I’ve seen, how come fuckin’ Idaho? Of all places? I dinnae. Set its hooks in me.” He glances at Simon. “Love’s got a way of changing people, aye? Transformin’ them. It could be ye, putting down roots next.”

The comment nips your soft underbelly. You pivot again. “Did you paint? Do you still create art?”

Soap turns. “Nae so much anymore. I mostly draw. Dipped my toes into painting, but too much to carry. The art I make nowadays…It’s gruesome.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Taxidermy. ‘S what Simon and I do,” His eyebrows shoot up, teeth flashing in a puckish smile. “Ye didnae ken?”

Revulsion tightens your throat. “I didn’t.”

He bites his lower lip, clearly eager to fan your disgust like a fire. A hairbreadth of control keeps his mouth shut long enough to rethink it. Instead, his focus drifts once more to his partner. 

Despite the acidity lapping at your throat, curiosity opens your mouth. “Do you know how Simon came to Grouse Bay?”

Soap’s lips press tightly together, enough to sap their color, then bend into a brief scowl. Without warning, he stands and rips his shirt off in one smooth movement. He tosses it, crows a complaint about the heat, and doesn’t look over the upper deck before launching off the pontoon.

Howls of laughter erupt, but surprise tethers you in place until John calls your name. Apparently, a sunset dip is tradition.

Ducking into the cabin under the premise of changing, you whisper to Kate, “I don’t have a swimsuit. John didn’t tell me about swimming.”

“He must’ve,” Kate quarters a lemon on the tiny counter and tucks a wedge into the bottle’s narrow mouth. She shoves it through with a thumb and licks the pad. “Nobody will bat an eye if you go in your underwear.”

“I’m not–that’s too–”

“You’re shy. That’ll pass. I’ll tell John you need his shirt.” She’s gone before you can argue.

A short eternity squeezes into less than a minute. John appears in the doorway, and beyond him, you hear Nikolai’s deep laugh.

“Kate says you’re shy.”

“I’m not shy.”

“Well, I’ve come to give you this just in case.” 

You thought you’d see John shirtless for the first time under different circumstances. Not in a cramped boat cabin, surrounded by his drunk friends. Your chest tightens. All the muscle you’ve only glimpsed and imagined is there in front of you. A torso sculpted by labor and practicality, rugged with scars and fat cushioning his stomach. And, to your delight, decently hirsute. His hand drops to his belt.

“Shirt’s yours. Need me to turn around?”

It feels more intimate than any kiss he’s given you, and it seems a test. You muster your nerve, set aside caution, and peel off your dress.

“Blue and white. Festive.”

“And you’re in green.”

He kicks off his jeans with a shrug. “Not my birthplace, and not for long.”

Standing at the stern, you entertain second and third thoughts, toying with the shirt’s hem. John waits in the water, expectant. You catch a flash of white—he’s nude. Toward the bow, you hear the others. They’re all nude.

“What about Kate?” You ask, voice warbling with uncertainty. 

“Kate never joins. She watches.”

“Watches?”

“For other boats. Voyeurs. Threats.”

You feel stupid for asking.

The shock of the cold water hits like a full-body slap, stealing your breath and sending a sharp jolt through your limbs. Arms wrap around you as you surface, and the scruff of John’s beard scrapes the juncture of your neck, chin pushing the wet shirt aside to briefly suck your neck. It’s sudden, it’s a lot, knowing what’s behind your back—

“John!” You sputter indignantly, giggling nervously as his broad hands slide to squeeze your hips. 

“Gimme a second.” He noses your wet skin and plants a few kisses before relinquishing his hold. “Sorry, sweetheart. Hard to keep my hands off you when you look so good.”

Sufficiently flustered, you promptly forgive him. “It’s fine. Just not in front of the others, please.”

“Right,” he chuckles and pinches your bottom as he paddles past. “She’s shy.”

Affronted, you swim after him.

As much as you hate to admit, Kate was right—your shyness melts with the sun’s slow descent. You spend the rest of the daylight in and out of the water, racing the men and learning to automatically avert your eyes from their frankly proud nakedness. By the time evening falls, you’re worn out, dressed, and idle as you munch on a sandwich Kate packed. It feels surreal. The entire day. Breathtakingly normal despite the skinny dipping.

Not weird, just different.

Eventually, everyone finds their place for the fireworks. You nestle into John’s side, swapping your towel for a blanket. He’s still bare-chested, shirt drying over an empty seat. It’s natural, resting your head on his shoulder. Fits perfectly. Simon, Soap, and Nikolai climb to the roof. Kate reclines in the captain’s chair. Beneath the cotton weave, John’s hand strokes your knee, and the other rests across your shoulders. The conversations lull as the whole lake seems to hold its breath.

Flashes of red and white burst overhead, their reflections shimmering over the rippling, dark water. Blue sparks spill in glittering arcs, lighting the night sky in meteoric explosions. Cheers from across the lake erupt alongside them. John’s hold doesn’t lax. For nearly an hour, he keeps you close, palm searing your skin. Your attention strays from the show, instead admiring his crow’s feet, the mole on his nose, and the silver woven into his beard. The fireworks cast a glow, making him look almost ethereal. Not angelic, otherworldly. The lines and marks on his skin map to places you’ve never been. Never thought you’d go.

The sky returns to an unbroken, inky black, the scent of sulfur settling in a fog. Kate ferries you to land, and you disembark ahead of John with his keys. In the drive, you pop the tailgate and then load your things into the passenger seat. 

“Bunny.”

You turn to see Soap hauling the cooler, huffing and puffing a bit. The thing’s empty, so he must’ve hurried up the stairs. He crosses the road, tossing his burden into the truck. 

“Bunny?”

He shakes his head. “Must’ve misheard. Said ‘bonnie’. Endearment of sorts. Listen, I was hopin’ to get another chance to speak with ye. You’re a good time when you let loose.”

“Thank you. I haven’t in a while. Felt nice.”

“I can tell. Simon said ye were wound tight. He frighten ye?”

To the core of your being. A congenital fear. You swallow it. “No.”

“Really? Big fella scares me.” Soap pitches his voice low. He casually stretches and grips the window crank, effectively caging you into the wedge of the door. His nostrils widen like earlier, pupils dilating in the light. “Now. Need ye to tell me somethin’. Been eatin’ me all day, and I cannae be a dog and put my nose wherever I’d like. Gotta be good.”

Instantly, ropes harness your thoughts, prepared to draw and quarter them into the bleakest parts of imagination. The desert, the inland sea. 

The plastic handle creaks under his grip as he forces the words out between his teeth. “Did ye find—”

“Johnny.” Simon. Soap immediately reels backward, tugged by an invisible thread. 

“Here, sir!”

Sir? Johnny? 

“ATV. Now.” 

Soap doesn’t so much as spare a parting glance, obediently scurrying to the four-wheeler. You stare, dumbfounded, and jump when the driver-side door creaks. John smiles wryly, his shirt adorning his neck like a damp scarf. The trail of hair disappearing into his waistband is a momentary distraction from the brute stalking beyond the windshield. Simon’s scarred flesh is a beacon in the moonlight. His heavy brow focused solely on the man perched atop his vehicle. You hear him seething, growling under his breath at Soap—Johnny—and John’s door shuts.

“C’mon, sweetheart. They’re alright.” He coaxes you into the cab, patting your knee with a sigh. “Lover’s quarrel. Simon’s a jealous man.”

“Jealous,” you echo, gawking at the two men outside. “Of me?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” John starts the truck and lowers his window. He leans out some as Nik and Kate share a smoke at the end of her walk. “Night, Kate. Nikolai.”

Nikolai leers behind his cigarette, gesturing with it in your direction. A few words of Russian escape with the smoke, a throaty laugh on their heels. Kate looks impassive. Bored. Her house disappears in the rearview. A restiveness itches under your skin, exacerbated by the quiet crackling of the radio. Your head’s a crowded place. The silence’s a good place to unburden it.

“So. Soap’s real name is Johnny?”

John chuckles. “Nobody but Simon calls him that, but you didn’t think it was Soap, did you?”

“I’m assuming it’s to keep things less confusing.”

“Correct. I actually employed him for a spell, when he arrived. Earned the name ‘Soap’ on account of his mouth. Needless to say, his career in retail was brief. Kept flirtin’ with the customers.”

“And he got with Simon?” 

“Simon swept him off his feet.”

You scoff. “That’s difficult to believe.”

“Simon has his ways.”

Nothing in your short, tense encounters suggests Simon to be a man capable of love or romance. You doubt it is uncharitable to think so, either. Ferine and rude, calculated and off-putting. Everything he does aims to disarm by making the very air around him feel heavy and wrong, whereas Soap seems keen to impress upon you his friendliness, conveying himself as human conciliation. ‘Opposites attract’ has limits. 

Yet.

“Soap said love has a way of changing people.”

John hums in agreement. “Most powerful force there is.”

Can’t argue with that. Force for good or otherwise, though—that you may dispute.

You don’t tell him to, but he shuts the truck off in the drive. Cats scatter as he escorts you, voicing their displeasure at your late arrival. Under the exterior light, you fumble with your keys, his gaze heavy on your cheek. In the time it takes to turn the lock, you berate yourself. Plead with a jury close to hanging.

It’s swimming all over again. Are you shy? Timid? Are you allowing the long, creeping reach of your abandoned husband to touch you before you let John try? The verdict passes your lips.

“Won’t you come in?”

“It’s late.”

“Please come in.”

It takes two invitations to coax John Price into the cabin and a third to the shower. 

A shuddering sigh of relief comes with removing your underwear and dress. The freedom from wet cotton eclipses the nervousness that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. The urge to cover yourself in front of the man who is not your husband sings loud, nearly shrieking when he brushes his knuckles down your arm and gently turns you around. He starts the water, returning to press his front to your back, the slight tackiness of lakewater and sweat melding you together. His fingertips run a track from your flanks to the sides of your breasts, a hum buzzing into the skin of your shoulder when you grasp the counter.

When Dusty—No. No. He’s not here. John is. 

You banish the venomous guilt that tries to unseat your want and let John tug you into the shower to wash the day off.

He’s hard for most of it, his swollen cock skimming your hips and ass, glancing over your belly, and nearly driving the strength from your legs. He seems unfazed, reverent, and single-minded in his self-imposed task. It’s embarrassing, the way you squirm and fidget at every touch. Difficult to tell if it’s arousal or the unfamiliarity of intimacy.

John takes your place under the spray and chuckles softly when you finally look down. His fingers scrub through his body hair to the thatch at his cock’s root. You suck in a breath. He’s proportional—thick, heavy, and flushed. Hangs between the two of you, untouched, but you know it would burn your hand. Your tongue. The dizzying rush from that last thought alone reassures you because you don’t remember the last time you knelt because you wanted to.

Neither of you dress. Both of you barely dry. He insists on a light, hovering at the bedside lamp until you nod. When he climbs onto the bed, murmuring little nothings, your blood’s roaring in your ears, drowning out his encouragement. He opens your legs for a good look, but he might as well wrench open your ribcage. 

“Quite the sight.” John whispers. His palms slide from your knees to your upper thighs, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking where your thighs meet your pelvis. 

You imagine fastening an anchor to your brain, then a lure. Stay here, stay focused. 

“Yeah?”

His eyes flick to yours, narrowing as he reads into the single word. “Yeah. Beautiful.” He slowly slides and sinks to kiss your thighs, positioning himself between your legs. His shoulders stretch them further, and an arm snakes around and pulls you closer all too easily, hand groping a greedy handful. His breath hits where it’s wet, coarse hair tickling skin.

The first contact rips a sharp breath from you, which he immediately meets with a hum that buzzes to the base of your spine. The fingers on your thighs brush soothingly as he continues, jaw pressing further. His mouth latches, tongue dipping lower and in, laving along your entrance before circling to your clit. Each stroke and circuit deliberate, adjusting to the sounds spilling uninhibited from your mouth. Your hands reach and thread into his hair with a moan.

He groans softly into your flesh, nosing the fat above your sex, chuckling when your hips pitch. His hand travels up your quivering inner thigh to ease a finger in, pulling away to sink it into the first knuckle with a wet sound. 

“Look at you.” John sounds wrecked, beard and chin drenched in spit and slick, tongue licking the excess from his lip. Eyes boring into you with that look again. Unmasked hunger, barely tethered. The one you touched yourself to in the shower.

“Smelled you all day, smelled this,” He emphasizes with a pump of his finger, kissing your clit at the strangled, small noise you make. “Leaking into your pants, even after a swim. Nearly laid you out right there, during the fireworks.” 

A filthy whine erupts at the thought. You picture it vividly. John tearing your dress off of you, hauling you to the floor of the boat. Nik and Kate and Simon and Soap—all of them watching John mount you, ignoring the spectacle for a different show. Would any of them intervene? Would you want them to?

You clench at the thought, and he smirks.

He introduces a second finger alongside the first, hushing your reedy whimpers at the stretch. “The needy thing knew I was near. Knew that I could scent her crying out for me. Poor thing, neglected and mistreated. Needed a man to fuss over her.”

Your face grows somehow hotter. Not enough that you’re naked and under him, he needs to strip you bare and sweetly flay you alive. “John—”

He cuts you off, tutting. “Don’t be embarrassed—it’s natural for a man to want his mate.”

His fingers plunge to the webbing, ratcheting up to earnestly fuck you now that he’s teased you into incoherency. “Never gonna leave you lonely,” he rasps, tucking his mouth back over your pearled clit. 

Every year, the lake ice cracks and fractures with the arrival of spring. This is no different.

Muscles flexing and fluttering, dimly aware of the praises he murmurs against your cunt, you shatter. 

He doesn’t withdraw his fingers until you score his scalp and beg, and even then they slide over your slit, cupping the slippery folds of your pussy. He kisses and wipes his cum-soaked whiskers over your spasming thighs and stomach, his free hand planting beside you. John looms, pleased but not quite sated. 

He pets your cunt and waits for the worst of your trembling to cease. “Perfect,” he affirms, giving it a wet pat. He grunts, then abruptly knocks your legs open a second time with a knee, removing his hand to slick his cock.

Your eyes bulge, vision clearing in an instant at the view. Sat ignored for too long, his cock flushes a deeper shade of red, precome clinging to it like wax and seeping into his hair. He wraps his hand around the thick of himself, shuddering, eyes screwing shut as he strokes.

You think your orgasm might’ve knocked something loose. You reach a shaking hand and touch his knee. 

“J-John? I-I can’t…I can’t, not yet.” You are selfishness incarnate, asking him to quash his hunger once more. 

His eyes snap open. His pupils drill into you, flitting between your twitching cunt, his cockhead, and your face. Stygian and starving. 

“I’m sorry. Please.” 

He swallows, chest heaving with his unwhetted appetite, its festering close to spoiling. For a moment, fear poleaxes you into the mattress when he shuffles on his knees closer anyway, knees pushing under your thighs. 

“Not yet? That’s…okay,” John breathes raggedly. He nods, fisting his cock faster. His free hand glides from the valley of your breasts to your stomach, tracing a circle. “We’ll get there, sweetheart…Can I…?” 

Biting your lip, you nod.

He sighs, hips bucking slightly. “You’ll be taking my cock in no time. No tears, now. Wipe ‘em off.”

You obey immediately, not having realized you’d started crying, and see his cock jump in his hand at that.

John chuckles a little brokenly, struggling to speak through gritted teeth. “Soon, I can feel it. Gonna empty that head of yours, weed out what’s holding you back, and fill you, fuck, here.” His fingers press over your womb, and he jerks forward. Hot ropes of come shoot out, coating his fingers and your skin. He rocks into his fist a few more times, the motions stuttering, until leisurely sinking back to his haunches. 

After he withdraws and returns to clean you up, wiping the sweat off your brow before the cum on your belly, he tucks the both of you into bed. He turns off the lamp and claims the side closest to the door. He spoons you with his heartbeat to your spine.

Staring into the night beyond the window, you apologize again.

“I want to. I really want to.”

“I know, darl. I know.” He kisses your shoulder. “What did I say? We’ll get there.”

He falls asleep wrapped around you. You, however, lie awake trying to remember what it is to share a bed with someone willingly. With someone who wants you. 

Eventually, you wriggle out a hand and grab your phone, dimming its brightness all the way down. You haven’t checked it since work and swipe to your messages. A text from an unknown number sits at the top of your notifications.

>> F741 >> hold

[lost-in-fandoms]

I really loved your angry kitten knight Max AU, and was hoping there was some more you managed to write at all? :)

hello!!! oh i'm so happy you love him! to be honest there's this thing I've been turning around in my head, but it wasn't written. until now i guess.

cw: mentions of blood and injury (does it count like animal injury if it's shifter max? max gets hurt but daniel takes care of him!). This is still soft, but just be careful of that <3 part 1 and part 2 (now with a shiny new tag to collect them all under #kitten knight max au)

Daniel wakes up to the sound of something thumping softly against his door.

It's not loud, but there's something peculiar about it, enough to make his instincts wake him up. For a second, he lays very still, straining his ears, wondering if he had imagined it, until the sound comes again. A soft thump, then something that is almost scratching, then another thump.

Daniel gets up quietly, grabbing the hunting knife he keeps hanging next to his cloak, approaching the door. The sound starts again, no real pattern to it.

Daniel steadies his hand and then opens the door.

For a second, he thinks nothing is there. The dark corridor of the barracks is empty, the flickering light of the lantern near the stairs throwing long shivery shadows that don't quite reach his door, but before he has to wonder if he is dreaming after all, a soft huff makes him look down.

Near his feet there is a small kitten, looking up at him with bright blue eyes.

Daniel lets the hand holding the knife drop as he feels himself smile.

"Hi, baby," he whispers, not even annoyed at being woken up anymore.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, starting to crouch down. It's unusual for Max to be wandering around here in his other form, especially when it's the middle of the night and he is not on watch, at least to Daniel's knowledge, but it's not an unwanted surprise. Maybe Max just wanted cuddles, something he still hesitant to ask for in his human form.

And then he is on one knee, his eyes now used to the dim lighting, and he realises two things.

One, Max is not standing up, and two, there's blood on the floor.

"Shit, Maxy, are you hurt?" Daniel's heart is suddenly beating much faster as he abandons his knife on the floor and reaches for Max, fingers hovering over him without knowing where it would be safe to touch.

He's never seen Max hurt in his cat form before. He's seen Max bleed, he's seen Max dirty and bruised, he's seen Max with a bandaged sprained wrist, but it's different when he's like this. It's different when he looks like a baby kitten, not a grown man, and Daniel can't tell how bad it is.

"Can I pick you up?" he asks, wanting to take him inside, wanting to keep him safe, wanting to fix, fix, fix. His breath keeps getting caught in his chest.

Max blinks at him, his eyes not fully opening again, nodding his little head, and Daniel scoops him up carefully, trying to not jostle him too much. Max still lets out a thin, pained hiss, and Daniel shushes him softly, apologizing as he grabs his knife, takes him inside and finally closes the door.

He grabs his cloak from where it's hanging, placing it on his small desk and putting Max down on top of it, rushing to turn his oil lamp on, eager to assess the damage.

When he turns back around, Max is snuggling into the folds of the cloak, eyes closed, one of his front paws kneading the fabric already, self-soothing.

With the light now on, Daniel can see how he's holding his other front paw awkwardly, leaning towards his other side. He doesn't know how to approach this. A wounded person he knows how to help, but this? He doesn't know anything about cats, other than what he's learned from Max, which seems like not much at all at the moment.

"Can you shift back?" he asks, knowing it's a stupid question right away. If Max could turn back, he would probably have done so already, instead of having to scratch at his door to be let in.

Max opens one eye again, glaring at him. Fair enough.

"Is it your...paw?" He doesn't know if it's rude to call it a paw. Should he still be calling it an arm? His knowledge of everything Max feels suddenly very unsatisfactory, something he is not used to.

Max meows slightly, just a tiny little sound, then moves to expose his belly.

There, under the fur matted with blood, Daniel can see a long scratch, extending almost for the whole length of his right side.

"Shit, Maxy," Daniel hisses, coming closer again. "did this happen in your human form?"

He doesn't know if it matters, but a cut like that doesn't look accidental, and he can't imagine how a kitten would have been able to get it. Max nods at him, then closes his eyes again.

"Okay." Daniel takes a deep breath, then another.

Sure, Max is a cat now, but it can't be that different from helping a human, right?

"I'm going to clean it, now, alright?"

Max doesn't respond, but he stays where he is, pink nose buried in Daniel's cloak and cut exposed, so Daniel takes that as permission enough.

In the end, it's not as bad as it seemed. It's a long cut, but it's not deep, and it's already stopped bleeding for the most part. It turns out to be lucky too that Max is so tiny, because Daniel has a very limited amount of bandages in his room, and he doesn't feel like going to find more. As it is though, they're just enough to safely wrap the wound up after applying some salve on it. Max keeps still and quiet the whole time, as stoic as a kitten as he would have been as a human, something so incredibly Max about his scrunched up face that it almost makes Daniel tear up.

"There you go, baby, is it better?" he asks when he's done, washing his hands in his little basin. His cloak is ruined, but he doesn't care about that, not when Max looks much more relaxed, tired eyes struggling to open again to look at him. He's been chewing on Daniel's cloak since the moment Daniel had started cleaning him, a mix of self-soothing and pain relief, but he lets it go now to meow at him, a yes and a thank you mixed in one.

"Can I do anything else to help?" Now that he's not using his hands anymore, Daniel feels uncertain again, feels like anything he's doing is insufficient. He wants to know how this happened, wants to know who did it, but knows it would be useless to ask when Max can't speak.

Max doesn't answer, but instead tries to push himself to a standing position, because he's obviously a screaming maniac even when he's a kitten.

"Fuck, don't do that!" Daniel exclaims, probably too loud for the middle of the night, reaching forward to scoop Max up before he can hurt himself further.

"You are insane, I just finished fixing you up!" he scolds.

His irritation doesn't last two seconds though, as Max pushes into his chest, purring weakly.

Sometimes it hits Daniel like a punch, how much he loves him.

"Fine, you're cute," he grumbles, knowing the term will make Max hiss at him, which he does, albeit half-heartedly. "Sleep?"

In bed, he helps Max to his usual position, curled up next to his collarbone, trying to be mindful of his hurt side, petting the soft fur between his ears with one finger.

"You scared me," he whispers in the newfound darkness. Max's purring pauses for a moment as he pushes his nose harder against Daniel's neck in apology, before resuming with even more vigor.

I love you, Daniel thinks, not wanting to say it loud when Max can't say it back.

He hopes Max will be able to turn back after he's rested, even if they'll have to figure out the bandages situation again then, otherwise it will be hard to explain the absence of the Captain without exposing his secret. He hopes Max will feel better in the morning, his blue eyes not quite as hazy. He hopes he did the correct things, helped him right.

He feels the moment Max falls asleep, his purring petering out, his little body going lax, and he moves his head slightly to press his cheek against warm fur.

He stays awake for the rest of the night, counting Max's steady breaths.

[rentsturner]

Start To Finish - A.T. - 1

chapter 1 - the trials and tribulations of a first pet.

a.n: this should be a multiple part series, with hopefully 2 more parts in the works. I've had this written for months, its been a long time coming. Hope yous enjoy.

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of animal death

-- 1 --

You didn’t mean to bring a kitten home when you set off for work this morning. But sometimes the cat distribution system works in mysterious ways. In this case, fate had placed a small, wet bundle of fluff on the side of the road, the road that you drive home on every evening. Your headlights catch the tiny kitten weakly moving amongst the undergrowth, and you almost think you’ve imagined it, but when you slow down and take a proper look, it's obviously a small animal.

You stop the car and get out, covering your head to shield yourself from the pouring rain, using your phone torch to find the little cat. You locate it quickly, mewling and shivering weakly in your hands as you gently pick it up. It’s black, fur slicked back in the rain so it looks almost oily, its tiny pink mouth opening to meow for help, probably for its mother. With an ache in your heart, you wrap it in your coat and place it carefully on your passenger seat, then without a second thought, you take it home. 

The drive home goes by in a flash and when you get to your apartment door, trying to balance the kitten in one hand and your bags and keys in the other, you realise you have no idea how you’re going to explain this to your boyfriend, Alex. It’s not that he doesn’t like cats, well, maybe he's never been particularly keen on them, but you've never discussed having a pet before, both accepting that you're probably too busy to give it the attention it needs. The small kitten lets out a high pitched mewl, reminding you that the poor thing is cold and wet. You’ll just have to deal with Alex later. 

You push through the door, dumping your bags and soaking wet coat on the floor, taking the kitten straight to the bathroom to find a warm towel. You hear a shout from the study, a muted “Hey, babe!”.

“Hey, Al.” You shout back, probably sounding a little distracted - you are.

You wrap the kitten in a towel, gently rubbing the moisture from its soft fur. It really is adorable. Jet black fur and big orange eyes. As you warm it up, it begins to purr, so intensely you can’t believe the noise is coming from such a little body. It can’t be more than 2 weeks old.

“Love? You alright?”

Footsteps tread heavily approaching the bathroom, and suddenly Alex is opening the door. He obviously heard the meowing. You turn, cradling the kitten in your arms - caught red handed.

“What-”

“Alex, let me explain.”

“That’s a cat. A kitten.” Alex points at the animal in your arms, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Yes.”

“Why on earth are you holding a kitten?”

“It was on the side of the road and it was cold and wet and-” 

Alex scoffs, cutting you off. “We are not having a kitten.”

“Why not? We-”

“Are you kidding? We don’t have food, litter, toys, we need- we need bowls and a collar and-”

“All of those things we can buy. That’s no big deal.” You adjust the bundle in your arms so that the kitten is looking up at you, its big orange eyes blinking slowly up at you. You feel like a mother looking at your newborn child. “Just look at him, Al.”

“Oh, it's a he, is it?”

“Well, as far as I can tell.”

Alex rubs a hand over his face, tugging on his hair, a habit of his when he’s stressed. He looks at the kitten, then you, then the kitten again. “I can’t believe this..”

“Hold him.”

“No, I don’t want to-”

“Hold him.” You practically shove the kitten into Alex’s arms and he’s forced to cradle it, looking down at the mewling little form. You see his face immediately soften as he feels the kitten purring. The cat’s tiny mouth opens in a wide yawn and his eyes start to drift closed. 

“See? Isn’t he adorable?”

“He’s alright, I guess.” Alex brings a careful finger up to stroke the kitten’s forehead, smoothing down his damp fur and scratching his chin. You watch him for a moment, feel a soft ache in your chest at the gentleness of his actions. You’ve persuaded him, you know you have. Alex might not have accepted it yet, but this kitten is staying in your lives.

After a few moments, Alex breaks his silence. “Only if I can name him.”

You’re confused. “What?”

“We can keep him, but only if I can name him.”

Your face breaks into a grin at his words and you have to stop yourself from jumping up and down. You grab Alex’s arm, smiling up at him.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. You’re right. He’s kinda cute. It’s a boy, yeah?” 

You nod in agreement and Alex scratches behind the kitten’s ears, purrs still emanating from it like a little engine. He studies his face carefully. 

“He looks like a Julian.”

��Oh absolutely not, he is not being called Julian.”

Alex pouts and opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he can argue.

“Anything but Julian. Second choice, please?”

Alex huffs and rolls his eyes, before going silent for a few minutes. Then he decides.

“Fine. He’s called Bowie.”

You smile. It’s a good name. And it suits this loud, demanding and loving cat that’s managed to worm itself into your hearts within a matter of hours. 

“Okay. Bowie, it is.”

You both look down at your new pet, but he’s fast asleep, purring away quietly in Alex’s arms.

-- 2 --

The next day, you and Alex wake up early, intending to go and buy supplies from a local store. Bowie slept soundly all night, cuddled up in one of Alex’s old jumpers at the foot of your bed. In fact, you all slept soundly, tired from the excitement of the evening and anticipation of your new life with a kitten.

“Are you sure we can leave him alone?” Alex watches the sleeping kitten with intense fascination, taking in his little huffs, the way his paws shake a little as he dreams. He’s enraptured.

“Al, we’ll only be half an hour, it’ll be fine.”

“But what if something happens to him?” Alex reaches out to stroke Bowie and he rolls over onto his back at the feel of Alex’s touch, yawning and presenting his stomach for tickles. You coo at him and scratch under his chin, while Alex rubs his belly. You consider Alex’s question.

“Like what? He’s safe here. Anyway, only hours ago you were suggesting I should have left him on the side of the road!”

Alex chuckles. “You’re not gonna let me forget that, are you?” 

You laugh with him and shake your head. 

“Look, I'm gonna call Jamie anyway and just ask him to watch him. Just to be safe. He’s only 5 minutes away.”

You nod, accepting Alex’s worry. It won’t do Bowie any harm to have some company while you’re gone. 

An hour later, Jamie arrives. You explain where you’ve set up some newspaper as a makeshift litter tray, as well as the bowl of milk that you’ve been using to feed Bowie until you get some kitten food. You know he shouldn’t really be having milk, but it’s not like you had spare kitten food lying around in the cupboards. 

Alex brings Bowie out of the bedroom while you’re talking to Jamie, cradling him like a newborn and tickling his chin. Your heart soars yet again as you watch your boyfriend introduce Jamie to your new pet, both of them cooing and giggling as Bowie tries to catch Jamie’s finger tickling his belly. 

“Did she explain everything to you? You know where he pees? And make sure he doesn’t get out, okay, and-”

“Al, mate, I’ve got a toddler. I’m pretty sure I can look after a kitten.”

Alex nods in acceptance, kissing Bowie’s forehead before placing him on the floor. The kitten immediately goes racing off to the kitchen, probably looking for trouble.

“Alright, just look after him, yeah?”

“Come on, Al, the quicker we go, the sooner we’ll be back.”

Alex smiles at you and allows you to lead him to the door, both of you calling goodbye to Jamie as you leave the apartment. 

---

The pet store is enormous and it takes you and Alex a few moments to find all the kitten stuff. You fill your basket with wet food, dry food, kitten milk, treats - it looks like enough to feed a whole colony of cats, more than enough to fill the scrap of fur now residing in your home. Then you choose a litter tray and several bags of litter, before you finally move on to the toys section. 

Alex decides to test each toy before choosing them, shaking, throwing and squeezing each colourful mouse and ball, debating intensely on which Bowie will like the most. You’re sure Bowie would be satisfied with a cardboard box, but Alex is obviously getting into his little experiments over which toy is best, so you leave him to it. You wander over to the collar section. There’s a whole array of collars in all sorts of materials and colours, some with bells and tags. You want something understated and smart, and your eyes land on a black leather collar with silver stitching. It would suit Bowie perfectly. You don’t think he’ll be wearing it much as he’s going to be an indoor cat, but of course you will have to get your first pet a collar.

You’re admiring the quality of the leather under your fingers when you feel a kiss on your cheek, followed by the feel of Alex’s hair tickling your temple. You turn and peck his lips before taking a look at the abundance of fluffy objects in his arms. He’s picked out about 8 toys; squeaky mice, a tunnel, bouncy balls, a mouse on a stick, some catnip.

“Got enough there?” You tease Alex as he balances the items precariously under his chin as you head over to the till. He just rolls his eyes at you, dumping all the toys and food on the conveyor belt and fishing out his wallet from his back pocket. 

The till cashier smiles at you knowingly as she scans all the items through, having seen many other young couples going through the same experience with their first pet. When she comes to the collar, she looks up at the two of you.

“Would you like this engraving? It’s only an extra fiver.”

You’re about to answer and say no, it's no bother, but Alex has other thoughts.

“Please. His name’s Bowie. B-O-W-I-E. And could you do a little lightning symbol maybe?”

“Of course, sir. It will be ten minutes.”

You wait for the engraving patiently, arm linked around Alex’s waist with your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. His palm rubs up and down your side gently. 

“I’m so glad you found him yesterday.” Alex murmurs, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Me too. Imagine. He would have just died there, all alone.” Your heart aches at the thought of a kitten living such a short and miserable life. It makes you want to cry, and you’re not the only one - Alex lets out a whine and squeezes your shoulder firmly.

“It’s ok. He’s got us now. We’re gonna look after him.”

You nod and smile up at Alex, who gives you a small smile in return, leaning down to peck your lips gently. 

“Hey, your collar is ready!” You both admire the silver engraving. It’s perfect, “Bowie” written out in curling letters, with a little lightning bolt underneath. A lightning bolt for a little cat that you found one stormy night. Fitting.

---

“How was he?”

Jamie scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. 

“Well, he kept trying to climb up my leg, but otherwise fine. Been fast asleep for the last 15 minutes. Think he tired himself out.”

You laugh at Jamie’s answer, imagining the terror on his face as Bowie tries to claw his way up his trousers. Toddlers certainly don’t do that. 

“Cheers, Jamie.” Alex claps his friend round the shoulder and you leave them to talk while you go and find the naughty kitten. You see him curled up on the sofa, little chest puffing up and down as he dreams about climbing trousers. You sit next to him carefully, stroking his fluffy black fur. His little nose so perfectly formed, ears twitching as he hears footsteps walking into the room, the slam of the door as Jamie heads home. Alex’s hand joins yours in smoothing down Bowie’s fur. 

“You've been a naughty boy, eh Bowie?” Alex teases the cat, who’s absolutely oblivious to his words, still asleep, but now purring quietly. After a few more tickles, his eyes open slowly and he yawns, letting out a high pitched whine. You coo at him, scratching under his chin as he stretches his limbs. 

---

That night is eventful, to say the least.

You’re awoken at 3am by needle sharp claws poking into your forehead, followed by a series of meows and chirps as Bowie tries his very best to wake you up. You yawn and roll over, trying to ignore the cat, but he climbs over you and starts batting at your face. You can’t help but giggle, you should be annoyed but looking into the eyes of such an adorable creature is enough to quell your temper in seconds. You give him a quick stroke and he purrs and arches his back under your touch. Then you gently pick him up and place him on Alex’s side of the bed, closing your eyes and attempting to go back to sleep.

A few minutes later, you hear a groan, followed by sheets rustling. Then a distinct yelp. You have to stifle another giggle as you picture Bowie digging his claws into Alex’s face.

“Bowie- fuck, its 2am, what the…”

Alex’s voice is deep and hoarse with sleep as he berates the cat, you turn over to face him and see his eyebrows scrunched together, mouth turned down in a frown as he pats at the tiny scratch on his head. His eyes are only half open, struggling to rouse his brain from the comforts of sleep. Bowie is kneading happily on the duvet, excited that he’s finally getting the attention he wanted, doesn’t matter if it's good or bad.

Alex notices you looking at him and huffs. So dramatic.

“His claws are surprisingly sharp, y’know?”

“Alex, he’s a kitten, he just wants attention.”

Alex groans and looks up at the ceiling, rubbing a hand over his face and tugging at his hair. Bowie crawls on top of him and begins kneading on his chest, purring away happily.

“God, it’s like having a baby. A baby with claws.”

You giggle at his comments. It’s true, you didn’t think you’d be woken up in the night by a needy child so soon in your relationship with Alex. 

“He’s cute though. You can’t deny that.”

Alex sighs as he looks at the small kitten purring gently on top of him. He strokes him gently, one of his hands almost covering the entire length of Bowie - he’s still so tiny. Apart from this little mishap, he’s been very well behaved so far, you couldn’t have expected any better. And the naughtiness just makes him all the more cuter. 

“Aye, it’s a good job that he's cute.”

You manage to get to sleep eventually, lying Bowie down so he’s sandwiched between you, while you and Alex face each other. The kitten falls asleep in minutes, obviously enjoying your combined warmth and attention, his purring slowly gets quieter as he falls deeper into sleep. 

You reach out to stroke Alex’s hair, scratching at his scalp then smoothing his brown strands back over his forehead. He leans forward to kiss your forehead, trying his best not to disturb Bowie. 

“Goodnight again, love.”

“Night, Al.” You whisper, closing your eyes and basking in the comfort of feeling both your kitten and your boyfriend sleeping next to you.

---

When you wake up in the morning, you pat the duvet around you, feeling for Bowie, but you can’t find him. That’s weird. You didn’t notice him leaving in the night. You sit up and look around, breathing out a chuckle as you see where Bowie has placed himself. 

He’s balanced precariously on the edge of Alex’s pillow, curled up on himself with his tail flung over Alex’s face, wrapped around his hairline. Alex is fast asleep, snoring away softly, his chapped lips parted, face relaxed in the way that only sleep can make it. 

They look absolutely adorable, and you can’t help yourself as you grab your phone and snap a quick picture of them. You’ll show it to Alex the next time he complains about being woken up in the night.

---

End of Part 1

---

for reference this is how Bowie looks in chapter 1 (except with orange eyes)

Tags:

@ohladymoon @martinipoliz @almluv @zayndrider@madnesstaking0ver@atticssmellgood @leafjoon @turnerside @turnertable @yourstartreatment

( if you wanted to be added/removed lemme know)

[anonymooseforever007]

CATastrophe

(Alfie Solomons x Wife Reader)

Summary: Alfie said the kitten could stay on ONE condition: It couldn't make a mess of anything. And you'd promised him the cute little furball wouldn't dream of spilling even a drop of milk.....Unfortunately the kitten made no such promises....

A/N: Hi y'all! No warnings for this one. This is for Flor's ( @raincoffeeandfandoms ) 2.7k celebration! That I wrote like a year ago before I disappeared, so I'm sorry it took so long 😂😅! But you're amazing!!!❤️ I hope you enjoy this! You said the theme was cats and this idea popped into my head and I ran with it! It's about 90 percent comedic/fluff about when Y/N and Alfie met their kitten, which happens to be on the same day Alfie meets Tommy. So I have changed that part up from canon just a little bit for my own devices.

WC- 7.5k

Main Masterlist

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

"Oh no. No no no no no! Get off that! Off! No! Whhhyyy did you dooo that..... why."

Slight panic swept through your body as you quickly snatched up the ink stained papers off Alfie's desk. 

"Please don't be important. Please don't be important. Please don't be impo.... and they're for the new guy.... great.... Maybe we can clean it off... nope. We are absolutely screwed."

Giving another groan of defeat and burying your head into your arms, you slouched down in your husband's chair. The rain outside seemed to grow darker with your mood. You'd only fallen asleep for fifteen minutes.... but evidently that was all it took for catastrophe to occur. 

"Meow."

And CATastrophe really was the right word for it, given how the instigator of this entire mess was already ignoring your despair... in favor of playing with a loose string on the couch. The small creature wasn't paying any mind to the paw printed papers he'd ruined, nor the blue ink still mattered upon his tiny mitts. Ink that was yet to dry, resulting in a small path of blue paw prints across the stone floor.... And on the desk... And the couch.... And basically everything in the office. There was even a single blue print on the fur right under a sleeping Cyril's nose.

"Oh don't say that. You know what you did."

Sighing again, you stood up and pinched the small kitten up by the back of his neck. You weren't hurting it, instead you'd grabbed it in the hold you'd seen mother cats do many times when carrying their babies down the road. It was the exact grip that would render your captive immobile while you came up with a plan to fix his mistake. Or maybe to escape.

"I mean really?! You heard what Alfie said earlier." Still holding the guilty party gently, you wagged your pointer finger at the naughty thing, much like you did Cyril when he got stole steak off the table. Narrowing your eyes slightly as the kitten only stared, you continued your admonishment, "He said if you made any trouble he'd put you back in the dumpster I found you in. And while he may not actually do it, he'd certainly give you away to someone else. And we can't have that, can we."

The kitten only let out a small noise as if agreeing. Though it would seem that would be enough to melt your frustrated heart. Huffing, you pulled the cat closer to your chest and started petting the top of his head, paying no mind to the ink slowly dying your dress. Moving to the couch you sat down, remembering what had occurred only that morning....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A few hours ago....

"ALFRED!!!"

Jumping slightly at the sudden shout, your husband raised his head from the dozens of papers on his desk. He barely had time to open his mouth before the door to his office swung open with contrasting gentleness from your previous tone. As you stepped through the frame, he could see your coat bundled tightly to your chest. He'd never admit it, but the way you shook your head to get the rain drops off reminded him exactly of Cyril. Like mother like son he guessed. As if your particularly bouncy disposition shouldn't have been enough to tip him off, the look in your eyes told Alfie were this conversation was headed before it even began. Or so he thought.

"We have a cat."

"......No, we don't. We have a dog."

"No, Alfie. We have a cat."

"Cyril's a dog." Alfie was confused now. You did understand that Cyril was a dog right? Did you get brunch with your sister and have too many cups of her special 'tea'? Alfie's brow pulled together as he thought, and a quick glance to the mutt, confirmed that he was indeed looking at a dog. A very big one, who wasn't anywhere near cat size.

"No. Alfie. We. have. a. CAT." You stepped right up to his desk, and placed a small ball of fur right onto his top hat. Just like it was a podium in which to share the world. If Alfie had to guess, he'd have thought you'd placed a clump of Cyril's fur on his hat, but then it started to move. 

In no time, Alfie was matching gazes with a pair of brilliant blue eyes that could rival Tommy Shelby's. Or so Alfie had heard, he was only meeting the man for the first time today, because apparently a simple 'Hello' constituents as a fucking 'Come on over for tea and biscuits, we'll be fucking friends,' in Birmingham... But the brilliance of Tommy's eyes wasn't the biggest thing on the Jewish Gangster's mind right now.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's a CAT, Alfie. Haven't you been listening to a word I said?"

Sliding around the desk, you pushed Alfie's chair back, just enough so you had space to sit on his good leg. You only grinned, watching the small kitten begin to play with the feather in your husband's hat. Alfie was slightly still stuck in the whole Cyril: Dog or Cat? debate he'd gotten into his head.

"Ok Dovey, but why is it here?"

With a loving sigh, you took Alfie's face in your hands, mindlessly rubbing a thumb over his bearded cheeks.

"It is here because our newest child needs to meet his new daddy." Turning his head so he could see who exactly was 'the child' in question, you continued, "I was bringing back lunch. I heard something mewling from the dumpster. I went over to the dumpster. I found him gnawing away at a half eaten fish head. He was adorable. He was alone. Now he is ours."

The final sentence was said kindly, but firmly. In fact, your whole statement was spoken so 'matter of fact' like and simply. Alfie knew the conversation was already finished. But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

"Ours? Dovey, I don't know. I'm not really a cat fella. You know that. Besides I've got a meeting in a bit. I don't have time to be taking care of a feral cat. What kind of man would this Peaky fucker take me for if he saw me walking around with a cat on my shoulder?"

Grinning, you gently tapped Alfie's nose as if he'd said something adorable.

"Well, Ally. That's just because you've never had one before. You have to have something to become a something sort of person don't cha? Besides. It's not like you're gonna be the only one taking care of him. I'll be there too! To help you along the way." Then raising and eyebrow you made sure to catch his eye contact before you continued, "Also, before I forget, Alfred. I know it's important to make an impression on possible business partners, but how about this time we keep those impressions non physical, yes? I have no issue with you pointing a gun in their face, but just please stop getting blood on your rings. Try to take them off if you must. I'm tired of having to take your rings to the jeweler to get them fixed because you just had to make a 'lasting impression' when they decided to say one thing you didn't like, alright?"

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you continued your plea for one month without having to get his rings fixed, "Do it for me and sweet old Miss Haversnash who always thinks you've been mugged every time I bring them in. She's 83 years old, and her memory's not what it use to be. Half the time she thinks you've gotten into another boxing match like when you were 16. And the other half, she thinks you're an actual baker with a bad hip who's being constantly being picked on and bullied by the teens who throw glass in the allyway behind her house at night."

Alfie's eyes shot to yours at that statement.you could practically taste the offense coming off of him.

"Wait Dovey... Are you telling her I'm a weak fucking thing that can't even scare off a few kids?"

"No," your sighed, slightly rolling your eyes at the one think you knew would get his attention in that sentence. "I've told her again and again that you can take care of yourself, but she just won't have it. Hell, last time I spent ten minutes convincing her to not take her gun and go shoot the 'cowardly fuckwits who dared mess with such a sweet injured man.' Becca was there too and she can tell you just how hard it was. So I'm asking again Alfie: For all of our sakes, please don't beat this man up today unless he really deserves it."

"And what exactly would really deserving it mean Dovey? Because you know me, I'm a man of honour and I'm not gonna hit a fella unless he's got it coming for him." Alfie clasped his hands together as he spoke, like if he did so you'd agree with him.

"Right," you nodded in response, somewhat mocking him. Technically he wasn't lying, by you knew there were times when your husband's definition of 'deserve' varied greatly from the average person's. And while he didn't regularly beat up any poor workers for a simple accident, some of the more annoying ones might as well have been walking on snowflakes over a volcano during his bad days. "Alfie, good behaviour today, deal. Because remember? The longer I spend at the shop getting your rings fixed, the less time I have to get ready for tonight. And Alfie?" You questioned as you leaned your lips to his ear, "I got a pretty new nightgown I've been waiting to show off. It would be a shame if you were to miss it because you were too busy dealing with another man and I fell asleep waiting for you..."

"Is that so poppet," Alfie chucked quietly, moving his hand to you hips and rubbing slow circles. With a sly smirk you nodded, moving one of your own hands down to his upper thigh. Groaning softly, Alfie leaned back in his chair to draw you face towards his for a deep kiss that would probably result in him being late for his meeting. 

"Mrrrrrroooow!"

Remembering there was audience, you pulled back from your husband. Alfie made a noise of his own, one of almost offended shock, crossed a confused huff. Looking at the cat, he narrowed his eyes. It wasn't that he already regretted letting the small thing stay this long, but Alfie never enjoyed your attention being torn away from him. Especially when he could have used that attention to make you think of him for the rest of the day. Though you paid no mind to that.

"Oh, don't worry sweetheart. I'm still gonna keep you safe. Come here sugar, time to say hello to your new papa."

Reaching across the desk you picked up the kitten from his 'podium'. Pulling him closer, you gently laid the creature on Alfie's chest in a way that forced him to cup the animal in his hands so it wouldn't fall. You knew once Alfie touched the kitten he'd be sold. And to further your luck, as soon as the kitten was settled on Alfie's chest, it had stated purring in contentment. You may have been Cyril's preference, but there was no doubt who this baby favored.

"See! He loves you! You can't give up on him now. He's already so attached. Even Cyril likes him!" You stated, indicating to the curious pup who was already sniffing gently at the kitten. The baby cat also seemed curious, reaching out a tiny paw to gently bat the dog's nose. In response, Cyril jumped back and barked happily, bending down into his playing position. However it seemed like the poor kitten was not as eager to start playing. With a tiny hiss, he startled, scratching Alfie's hand to be released, before clawing his way up the man's chest under the safety of Alfie's beard. 

"Oh for the love of....fuck. Grab it will ya?" Alfie huffed, his eyes raised to the ceiling as he couldn't lower his chin or risk crushing the cowering cat. Laughing when your eyes met brilliant blue, you couldn't help but coo as you carefully detangled the pair.

"Shuu. It's alright baby. It's ok. Cyril didn't mean to scare you. He's only excited to have a new brother. I promise we'll work on being gentler." Comforting scratches under the cats chin seemed to finally relax its fears. Still sitting on Alfie's lap, you held the cat with one hand and stuck out your other for Cyril to sniff. Seeming to take the hint, Cyril slowly inched forward until his head rested in your palm. Though he was standing still like a good boy, Alfie could practically feel the dog's urge to wag his tail and lick the kitten again. Over the next few minutes you slowly moved the kitten closer and closer to the dog again until the pair was right next to each other.

"See baby, Cyril's just a bug ole fluff ball. He didn't mean to scare you." Still remaining calm, both you and your husband grinned, watching the cat reach out and cautiously climb from your hand onto Cyril's head. Making a small circle and a few biscuits, the kitten seemed to be satisfied and promptly curled up on Cyril's head. By now the dog couldn't contain his excitement and his tail could be seen wagging happily as he tried to stay still.

"There! They already love each other! Isn't it the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

"It may very well be cute love, but do I look like the type of man who should be surrounded by cute?" With an arched eyebrow, Alfie raised his hands as if to show off all the "cute" things currently not surrounding him at the paper filled office in the middle of an illegal distillery.

As Cyril made his way back to his dog bed, the kitten still perched on his back, you took the time to turn to your husband and cuddle into him more. After all, a little bit of affection never hurt your cause before did it? But Alfie still seemed a bit uncertain.

"Well you certainly don't have any problem being surrounded by me, do ya? And you were saying just last night how cute I was whe.... Hello Ollie! Do you like our new cat? I still haven't thought of a name yet. Any ideas?"

Immediately you switched topics as the tall man walked through Alfie's open door while bearing papers. Though judging by the blush on his ears, he'd already over a head the last sentence and knew where it was going. Alfie just grunted quietly and shifted you on his lap a little as the memories of last night came to his mind. He had absolutely no qualms about Ollie hearing about your marital bliss, but you still tried to spare the younger man's feelings. He'd been married six years and had three kids (with another on the way), but how the man still blushed at the word sex, you didn't know. His wife certainly didn't have the same issue, which is why you made a point of having her for tea at least once a week. She was the mousiest little thing ever, but boy did she have some fun ideas. And she always knew the most interesting books for a a good read. Plus, she made really good chocolate pound cake. Yes, it was safe to say if (heavens forbid) you ever cheated on your husband, it would only be with Ollie's Rebecca. She would have jumped on the cat idea without hesitation. In-fact, she would have already made the animal his own little coat by now. 

"Oh...you have a cat now," Ollie sputtered out, ignoring Alfie's slight 'don't encourage her' glare. Partially because he wasn't afraid of Alfie when you were there, and also because he knew if the cat didn't go with you, it would end up at his house...again. So humoring you was likely his best bet if he wanted to keep what little remained of his space on the bed. "That's nice. Seems to get along with Cyril well."

"Don't they! That's just what I was telling Alfie. Such close friends already, how can you tear them apart."

Still uncertain, Alfie tried one more weak plea.

"I don't know Dovey... It's not even trained. I don't want a cat tearing up my papers before a meeting."

But once more you only smiled, and brushed away his concerns. 

"Alfie. That's ok. He's just a baby now. There'll be time for training. Besides, he's been perfect so far. I promise, this cat will be absolutely no trouble at all..."

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

Present time...

"You are in so much trouble mister."

Again the kitten only meowed and continued to gently bat at your necklace. You still hadn't settled on a name for him yet. So sorrow you'd just taken to calling him the many different pet names you also used on Cyril, Alfie, Goliath, and occasionally Ollie. This entire conversation really was one sided. Your criminal counterpart (well the four legged baby one) couldn't care less about the words coming from your mouth. Glancing around the room you tried to think of a plan. 

"Ok, first thing's first sugarstop, we need to clean you off before you can go signing any more important documents..... But the closet sink is in the kitchens. That might pose an issue." 

Alfie had gone out to meet Mr. Shelby about half an hour ago leaving you, Cyril and, 'the furball' to your own devices. Considering, if Alfie actually decided to play nice today, that a tour of the bakery would take about an hour...You had to be very very quick. But also considering that Alfie always took the same route for his tours, you'd also have to be sneaky because the bakery (the real one) was right at the front of the shop by Alfie's office. Which meant if he hadn't decided to kill this new fucker, then they'd be headed your way and very soon. 

Looking down at the kitten again you knew you'd have to find a way to sneak him to the kitchens, or his blue paws would give up the whole gig. Glancing around the room your searched for something nonchalant to hide the cat in for the short journey. Suddenly your eyes landed on an object sitting by the corner of Alfie's desk..... purrrfect...

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

Tommy / Third Person POV

Thomas Shelby didn't know how to feel about Alfie Solomons. 

But he knew one think for certain.... This Alfie was fucking insane. A partnership with this man might kill him even more painfully than a gang war against him. But then again, Tommy had stopped caring if he'd die long ago, so the way it happened really didn't make much difference these days. As long as his family didn't go with him he figured he'd be just fine. And so if a deal with a mad man was what it took to beat Sabini, then a deal with a mad man he'd make... and hopefully not become one in the process. 

These were the thoughts running through Tommy's head as he followed the other man around the 'bakery', while pretending like he'd already regained feeling in his left elbow and that the ringing in his right ear didn't exist. He really didn't care what Alfie was saying, or about the front the man had put up for his rum business. As far as Tommy was concerned, he just wanted to make the damned deal and go to Ada's house to sleep. But seeing Alfie pause during the tour (again) only too to berate a random worker didn't raise his hopes up. Resisting the urge to knock his head into the wall, Tommy just raised an eyebrow at the scene and waited for Alfie to be done. Suddenly, he heard a fast paced yet soft clicking noise. Like someone was headed towards them, but walking on their toes in an effort be quiet. Unconsciously, he reached for his gun, only to freeze when the approacher turned the corner. 

It was a woman with blue ink stains on her dress and (more oddly) wearing a top hat far too large to be hers...

Tommy could barely see her eyes from under the brim of the hat, and it seemed her vision was just as limited. Head ducked down, she seemed more interested in the ground than anything else. Or maybe like she was trying to hide something. Unconsciously Tommy reached for his gun again. He'd been tricked by a pretty woman before and he didn't plan on letting it happen again. While Alfie continued to quietly threaten talk to his tenth worker of the day, Tommy'a gaze remained fixed on the woman walking towards them. 

Suddenly Alfie slammed his fist against the wall, before he grabbed the man by his collar and pulled the worker towards him. It was so close in-fact, their noses were almost touching. Both Tommy's head and the hat woman's shot over to the angry man. But while the Birmmingham man said nothing, the mystery woman wasn't so silent now. And Tommy didn't know to be more confused or amused when he woman pulled a button out of her pocket and threw it at the bearded man's head to get his attention.

"ALFRED!"

Dropping his wide eyed victim back on his feet, Alfie stepped back and raise his hands in mock surrender. It was evident that this was regular conversation in the bakery. Spinning around to face the pair of onlookers, the bearded man barely even blinked at the hat upon the woman's head. That must have been a regular occurrence too.

"Oi! Why aren't you back at the office?! We agreed you were staying there until this was finished."

Raising an eyebrow at his harsh tone, the woman mimicked Alfie's crossed arms and tilted her head just slightly. It was then Tommy thought he heard a slight mewl coming from her hat, but chalked it up to his still cracked skull. After all, why would a hat be making cat noises? Though before he could question it, the woman spoke again.

"First off, I am not one of your workers. Alfred, You will not use that tone with me. I am not the one who pissed you off, I am not the one who gets the backlash. You know how it works. Second, we never agreed on anything of the matter. You just got up and left when you heard Ollie trying to keep someone out. And third.... I... I wanted to wash my hands in the kitchen. I spilled some ink when writing a letter."

Both men heard the slight hesitation in her last sentence, and while Tommy didn't care enough to question it, Alfie wasn't so convinced. Again Tommy heard a small meowing from her hat, and thought he saw it shift slightly on her head. Almost like someone had just barely bumped into the woman, jostling it slightly, which was odd seeing as there was at least an arms length distance between her and anyone else. Then the noice came again, more frustrated this time and he wasn't so sure it was fake. Additionally by now, the Birmingham gangster had realised this woman obviously wasn't just a random secretary. No, this little conversation was one that took place between two of a far more intimate relationship.

"You spilled ink writing a letter? Really?.... wait. Dovey? Why are there tiny paw prints on your dress? Did the fucking rat do it?"

Having been completely forgotten by, what he assumed was a couple now, Tommy watched as the woman gasped slightly and unconsciously placed a hand over her hat. What was she protecting? And why wouldn't that fucking cat noise go away? Maybe he should have stayed in the hospital for longer. The hat shifted again seemingly by magic.

"Rat?! Alfie you know he's not a rat! And just because he's a bit mischievous doesn't mean this was his fault."

This time it was Alfie's turn to raise his eyebrow. "What do you mean 'this' Poppet? It was only a letter wasn't it? A few spots of ink? He didn't cause any trouble, did he? Where is the little runt anyway? And why've you got my hat on?"

But before anyone could speak again, a determined yowl released itself from the hat, as the object forcefully flipped itself off her head. Unable to hide his shock and confusion, Tommy watched with wide eyes as the hat practically flew towards the ground until it was caught by Alfie. 

Silence reigned in the warehouse for a few moments. Everyone was staring at the 'magic' hat in suspense, waiting to see what it would do next. 

Then, with a rather satisfied purr, a blue pawed kitten popped his head out of the hat.

"....is that a cat?"

It was Tommy who (for once) spoke first, breaking the human silence that still hovered over the group. Forgetting the mess back in the office, the woman finally turned towards him, as if just registering his presence.

"Yes, it is! Isn't he just the cutest li....Alfie!"

Her words had trailed off and then turned to shock as she took in the state of the stranger before her.

Putting it nicely, Thomas Shelby looked like shit.

With a bruised up face and blood shot eyes, there was also a small drop of blood beginning to run from his nose, almost as if he couldn't get it to stop bleeding.

Holding the cat hat in one hand, Alfie raised the other in self defense and pointed at Tommy accusingly.

"He came like that, Dovey! It wasn't me. Doesn't have a single fucking ring mark on him, I swear!"

Observing his torn up state again, the woman gave Tommy another once over, before looking back at Alfie and sighing like she had the confirmation she wanted. With that her shoulders relaxed again and it was like she wasn't giving any more thought to Tommy's beat up state since Alfie wasn't the one who'd done it.

"....Alright, I believe you. Are you sure he's not just gonna dro...."

"I'm Thomas Shelby....And you are?" Having enough of not knowing who this woman was, Tommy interrupted the couple before they could start another conversation. 

Turning to face Tommy again, the woman suck out her own ink covered fingers to shake his outstretched hand. 

"Right, I'm Y/N. You must be the new man Alfie mentioned. It's nice to meet you." 

Tommy politely nodded in agreement, and stepped back once the introduction was over. Behind Y/N, he noticed Alfie's narrowed gaze, as he made physical contact with her. Truthfully, the imitating glare was dampened by the small cat in the hat Alfie was still holding on to. Especially when the animal started reaching up to play with the string on Alfie's necklace. 

Before another silence could settle upon the group, Alfie leaned off the wall he was resting against and promptly handed the hat/cat to his wife. Then throwing his arm almost amicably around Tommy's shoulders, he turned the pair of them around and started walking towards the exit. 

"Well this has been a nice fucking meet up hasn't it? Lovely meeting you, the tea was great, blah, blah, blah. You'll be headed out now."

As the men reached the door, Alfie let go of his grip Tommy and released the man for a hand shake of his own. And while Tommy was truthfully glad to finally be leaving this made house, he couldn't help but be curious and slightly confused about what was going on. 

"What about our deal?"

"Well, we'll just have to cover that next time you invite yourself over here won't we treacle. This was just a fucking warm up, meet and greet. I don't know if I want you lot poking your noses where they don't belong just yet do it. Come back tomorrow and we'll have a chat."

"Next Friday."

Turning, both men looked at Y/N who had followed behind them, and apparently wanted to change the date of their next meeting.

"Huh, Poppet?"

Gesturing towards Tommy's less than healthy state, she explained the situation to her husband. 

"Alfie look at him. A half-blind elderly ladybug could kill him right now." She also made sure to catch Tommy's eyes as she continued, "You can come back at the end of the week. Three O' Clock. Not sooner and if you're going to be late at least call first."

Tommy couldn't only nodded in agreement and slight confusion. Something about the way she spoke told him she'd already decided how this conversation would go. With a short nod he made his way out of the bakery and back to his car. Truthfully he was glad to finally be able to leave. He was tired and his head was killing him, and quite frankly there was something off putting about Alfie. But he couldn't put his finger on it. Now just yet. As he drove to Ada's house there was only in thing on his mind...

No matter how bad the relationship got between the two gangs, Y/N Solomons was never to be touched. Because Alfie Solomons was fucking crazy. And SHE might have been the only bit of sanity he had left. And Tommy didn't want to see how much blood would run when that bit was lost...

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

Y/N / Second Person POV again a few minutes later

"So. How many papers am I going to have to type up again because furball here decided to go ink happy in the office?"

Humming innocently, you continued to avoid eye contact with your husband as  the pair of you walked back to his office, clean kitten in hand. After Tommy had left, you made the unspoken decision to clean the cat off first and then discuss the situation. But now as Alfie's office door approach once again, you couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. 

It wasn't that you thought Alfie was mad. Truth be told, you knew he wasn't. Having married him over a decade ago, you'd gotten to know every one of his little quirks and signed to his emotions. Just like he knew yours. And you knew if he really was frustrated or wanted to talk to discuss something important with you he'd never do it in-front of someone else. 

It was something you both agreed on when you'd gotten married. Being mad at the other was alright. No relationship is perfect and conflict is bound to occur. But that didn't mean it would be healthy for those feeling to stew. So upon the wedding day you'd talked and agreed on three things. First: if the other hurt your feelings or made you mad, let them know about it with words. Actions may show passion, but words speak clarity. Second: Never let the anger stew longer than a day. Try not to go to bed angry and make amends of the day. So the small bump doesn't become a mountain by the end of the week. And Third: NEVER bring down one in the presence of others. Unless the other is about to do something really wrong, you'd stand as a united front through thick and thin. Fighting may be fine, but it would be done out of everyone else's business. You marriage was a private matter and besides, no one liked being the onlooker to a shouting couple. And while the rules had become a bit deeper and more complex and your marriage lengthened and love continued to grow, you'd both still held each other strictly to them even today. 

And that's how you knew Alfie wasn't really mad about the interruption. If it really had irked him, he would have sent Tommy with Ollie and talked to you in the office alone. But he hadn't. Sure he'd accidentally been a bit rude when you'd first come upon him. But that was mainly because he was still channeling his frustration at the man who'd pissed him off. Besides. You were probably right to call him out that time. For his tone though.... and maybe a little bit for threatening a new young worker who simply mixed up the words bread and rum when being asked directly about the rum. But it was an important distinction AND he did have to show Tommy he meant business. Especially since he wasn't allowed to leave a 'physical' impression, this time either.... Maybe next time though. Alfie had told Tommy he didn't want to make a deal yet, but that wasn't quite true. He'd known the moment the bastard walked in, that this man could be either really good (or bad) for business. Alfie had also knew this man needed a better sense of humor too.

That was another thing too, you noticed. Alfie hadn't held back on the quips he'd be making during your initial 'interrogation' AND he'd actually let Tommy shake your hand. What the Birmingham gangster had yet to realise is that Alfie Solomons did in fact like him. If he hadn't there would have been a Shelby shaped blood stain on the dock ground minutes after he'd stepped off his dingy little boat he'd sailed down the Cut in. So the fact Alfie hadn't "accidentally" tripped the man down the stairs for interrupting you was definitely a positive sign that you'd be seeing the blue eyed man very soon...

"Fucking Hell! Little devil spawn really did a number didn't he?"

Distracted from your own inner thoughts, you met your husband's gaze as he finished his spin of the office. It was evident that Ollie (bless him) had already been through and cleaned up most of the scattered papers and toppled plants. During your short nap the cat had managed to undo the two hours of tidying you'd done just to curb your boredom that morning before finding the clawed culprit. So despite Ollie's best efforts, there was still a stark trail that someone else hadn't been on his best behaviour. Namely, the royal blue trail of tiny paw prints that lead on just about every surface in the office. Seeing them again, you couldn't help but feel guilty for you part in this.

"I'm sorry Alfie. I really didn't mean for this to happen. I fell asle..."

"Oh hush Dovey. I'm not mad at you."

Curiously, you couldn't help it as you tilted your head. You knew he wasn't furious, but you figured he would at least be a little frustrated that his couch was permanently covered in the cutest little stains ever. 

"What do you mean? You're not mad about the mass rampage?"

Shaking his head, Alfie only opens his arms to pull you close as he settled down in the couch.

"Nope. Infact I think it's rather nice timing the little bastard had isn't it?" And for the first time that day, Alfie willingly stretched out his hand for the animal to sniff. After two seconds, you both chuckled and the kitten practically faced planted in his effort to cuddle Alfie's hand. Shoving his nose as deep as he could into Alfie's palm, the kitten began to curl up right there. 

"Nice timing? Alfie, not only did he ruin the papers for your deal, but he quite literally almost threw himself to death trying to get your attention," you retorted, brushing a single finger along the cat's back. "And I have to add to Love, seeing you hold him in that hat wasn't exactly the message you were hoping to send was it?" 

"Na Dovey," Alfie shrugged and settled leaned further against the couch. "Those weren't the papers I was gonna give him. Just a draft of it if he wasn't a total prick. But I'd say he fail that test, Love. It's a good thing you came when you did. I'm not to sure how I feel about that fella. Bit of a bore if I'm being honest. Needs to be a bit less serious."

The last part of his words were mumbled as Alfie tilted his head back towards the ceiling again. Happily, the kitten had once again climbed from his hand to right below his beard. 

"Now what's that mean?"

Alfie didn't answer, only grumbled. Evidently you weren't suppose to hear that last part.

"Alfie...."

Shrugging innocently, Alfie avoided making eye contact until the moment you took his face in your hands again. You couldn't help but smirk, as his face fell into a small pout, reminding you of Cyril when he didn't get extra treats for his bedtime snack.

"....He didn't like any of my jokes? All those wonderful little tidbits that I spent so long thinking of to break the tension, and not even one little snort?" Alfie complained, his nose wrinkling as he thought of the stoic man's manner. "I mean really Dovey, he didn't even smirk at my 'Fucking Biblical' quip! How am I suppose to work with a fella who can't find the humor in that!

Gasping dramatically, you frowned sympathetically and ran you fingers through the hair behind Alfie's ears.

"Awe! He didn't even laugh at your Fucking Biblical joke? Wow, Alfie, Darling that's just cold. I'm not even sure how you survived such a mean man." You cooed, talking in the voice you did when you were mocking Cyril for not having opposable thumbs.

"EXACTLY! Barely got through one meeting with the fucker and that wasn't even about the important stuff." 

"Aweee, you poor dear. All that hard thinking and not even a smile? Maybe he was just a shy fella Alfie?" Smirking you,  placed a finger under your husband's chin and lifted it up as you tried to ease his 'sorrows' from a 'tough' meeting. "And by the next meeting he'll open up and become a real hoot?"

"Maybe Dovey. But I suppose we'll have to see then won't we? And if he still hasn't pulled the stick out of his ass by then we'll know what kinda man he really is," Alfie declared. "Any man who can't take a good joke ain't a man I'm gonna be working with."

"Alrighty then. I suppose it's settled."

"Damn right it is Dovey. I got a code yeah. And I'm gonna stick by it no matter what some suck up little Birmingham horse fuck thinks of it."

Jokingly ruffling Alfie's hair you laughed at his deceleration. "Good on you Love, sticking your ground. If he can't handle a bit of fun then he's not worth the time is he?"

"Not a single thought Dovey, not a single thought." Alfie stated, closing his eyes as his head remained facing the ceiling. The kitten once again meowed as if agreeing....

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

A peaceful quiet settled over the office. Cyril was asleep at your feet again, and you had taken to leaning against Alfie's shoulder watching the rain fall outside. The kitten was still snuggled up under Alfie's beard. Only his small but sharp claws and Alfie's reclined form were keeping him from sliding down your husband's chest. Alfie's eyes remained closed but eventually he had freed one hand to gently stroke the kitten's side. If one were to looked over at the pair they would have seen a small tail poking out from between Alfie's beard gently swishing happily. 

It wasn't until Ollie's phone in the next room rang that the serenity your little family had found was interrupted.

The sudden high pitched ringing scared the small creature taking refuge under Alfie's beard. With a whining hiss, the kitten clawed his way out of Alfie's beard and up onto his head, trying to get to as high of ground as he could. Alfie cursed as the small claws hit his face. And while you half expected Alfie to drop the cat in your lap and find the number for the nearest shelter, instead he surprised you. Before the kitten could put out one of Alfie's eyes, the man grabbed the creature gently and held him aloft by the back of his neck like you had done earlier. 

"Alrighty mate. Now that's just fucking rude isn't it," Alfie began, talking to the kitten with authority, much like he did with Ollie. "Because that old thing in there isn't gonna hurt you, and you should know that. It's just noise and there isn't any reason for you to go off like how you did, Furry. Here I am trying to be nice and let you curl up on my chest, when I could very well be cuddling up with me darling wife, your mum, over there yeah?" With a tilt of his head, Alfie motioned to you as if clarifying who he was missing out on in his efforts to be nice. Then with a manoeuvre you didn't understand, Alfie gently rolled his hand so the kitten was lying belly up in his palm. With a stare, your husband continued on his ramble, "And now you may not yet be familiar with the rules in this house yet, but when a man offers you a warm place to lay, you don't go trying to put out his eyes now. Unless he's trying to hurt ya or something and the warm chest was a trap. In that case, you draw as much blood as you can and give no fucking mercy, ya hear? So there isn't gonna be any more of it when I'm around yeah? We don't do that here and you're gonna stick to that alright?"

It was a rather amusing sight. Your big 'scary' husband telling off an animal that weighed less than a bottle of rum with the same tone he would his new men when giving them instructions for the bakery. You finally understood how true Alfie's words were when he said he wasn't a cat person. Cyril he had been able to comfort right from the start, but now it was as if Alfie was holding a small man who hadn't been meeting his daily quota. This man truly had no idea how to care for a cat. And it was hard to hold off a laugh as Alfie ended his speech with a gently poke to the cat's stomach for good measure.

While laying in Alfie's palm the kitten's limbs had still been somewhat curled up. But as soon as his finger hit the animal's stomach, his little legs shot out like a star. Pausing, Alfie moved his finger back, and watched as the kitten's legs pulled back into their original position like on a spring. The with childlike curiosity almost, you watched your husband slowly poked the kitten's stomach again, gaining the same reaction as before. And then again, and again, and again. Soon enough Alfie was playing a hilarious version of 'stick them up' as a small smile grew on his face. 

"So I take it he can stay?" You gently interrupted. Pausing in his movements, Alfie turned towards you and then looked towards the kitten and then back to you. Pursing his lips he tilted his head from side to side for a few seconds, thinking of his answer. Then with a heavy sigh as if making a tough decision he shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose we can keep him around for a bit longer Dovey. He's proved his worth."

Beaming you leaned over to give Alfie a kiss on the cheek ... which he turned into a kiss on the lips. Finally giving up his game with the kitten, Alfie placed the small animal on Cyril's back again so he could pull you over to his lap. It was you who initiated the kiss as you leaned farther against him, deeper into the couch. But this time, it was actually Alfie who pulled back first from the kiss before it got too far.

"Say Dovey, have you given any thought to what we're naming the Furball yet? Because I'm not calling it Baby or Sweetheart forever."

Pulling back, you sat up and thought. Then your eyes landed on the stained papers and an almost wicked grin grew on your face. 

"I can think of one name. But you have to promise to hear me out."

"Yeah? And what's that Dovey?"

"....Tommy."

"Fuck no," Alfie shot up with furrowed brows. "Why the fuck to you want to name the cat that? Not after that boring sickly fucker back there do ya? What's so great about him that he deserves a nice little thing like this being named after him."

"Well you just said why yourself Love," you chuckled. "You know exactly why it is a fitting name for him."

"Yeah and what's that....?"

"I mean, he is just a little thing after all...."

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

Down the hallway, Ollie jumped, startled by the deep laughter of his boss echoing from the office. But at the same time he smiled, know he hadn't lost any more space on his bed. Not today at least. The same thing wouldn't be said next week. When at the same dumpster, Y/N and Becca found three more kittens...

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

Main Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TAG LIST (Based on what I've gathered from before I got off and what I think I refound, if I'm wrong and you wanted to get off a tag list or on one you can look at this post here and let me know :) )

Peaky Everything-

@raincoffeeandfandoms @zablife @theshelbyslimited @tommyshelbywhore

Peaky Romantic -

@optimisticsandwichgladiator

[lucysarah-c]

Hi! Happy new years eve ✨🥂 hope you had an awesome 2023 and all my best wishes and blessings for 2024 🫶🏼

Now, I can’t get this idea out of my head. Levi adopting a kitten with his girl. I always thought of Levi like a cat person, idk he just seem to fit on it. And as a cat person myself I would love to read something about it.

I can imagine him thinking is a bad idea but then he cant go anywhere in the house without the kitty 🫶🏼 so adorable I guess

Ahhh happy new year!! Thank you for all your well wishes and sending them back to you! I'm sorry it took me this long to write this for you sweetie! T-T so sorry

It started in the least expected way. Levi and his group of friends had been trying to find new ways to spend time together in their difficult adult lives. They wanted to revisit certain activities they used to enjoy in their glory college days and bond a little. You, of course, didn’t complain. If Levi decided to go camping with his friends or hiking on any weekend, it was also a chance for you to hang out with your friends at home, maybe watch a movie he doesn’t like, and have a “me” afternoon. It was all positive until Levi began to notice something during their hangouts.

Dogs.

All of them, particularly Mike and Erwin, had their own respective big, fluffy, loyal-to-death dogs that they would take with them on hikes, jogs, or even camping trips. You could see from the look in your boyfriend's eyes that he was envious. The only reason you and Levi hadn’t adopted any pets before wasn’t because of you in particular. You grew up with pets, loved them, and felt that the house was missing something without a fluffy companion. And don’t get me wrong, Levi had always had a soft spot for animals. But, in his own words, “As a kid, my family could never afford one… and Kenny hated them so.”

When you two moved in together, he didn’t want any pets due to "too much hair, too much mess, and too much money spent on the vet." But now, you could see in his eyes that he desired one, especially when they took pictures with his friends' dogs, and Levi hardly ever took pictures himself. Sooner or later, you brought up the idea, and he seemed excited. You quickly guessed that he wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it since perhaps his pride stopped him from admitting that now all the previous reasons he had given you to say no weren’t that important.

One lazy Saturday, you were walking past the doors of a shelter. Both of you admitted that if you were going to get a pet, it would be a rescue, giving the chance for an animal to live the American dream (two adults with good salaries, a pretty house, and no kids) after someone had made them believe they were trash. Both of you talked to the receptionist, who said that soon she would walk both of you to the dog’s department to choose. But when the guide came back and you were ready to go in and check out the puppies with your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be found.

Quickly, you followed the sound of people talking, and there he was, talking to a vet at the cat’s side of the shelter. The vet seemed to be deeply engrossed in conversation with him as you reached his side.

“Lev? Love, they are waiting to show us the dogs,” you called to him before smiling softly at the vet, acknowledging their presence.

“Oh, I was just telling him that she never gets close to anyone, not even to us. It was almost magical seeing her trying to reach out to him,” the vet said, and you quickly concluded it was the cat that was rubbing the top of her head against the front of her cage, trying to reach Levi.

“Aww, poor thing,” you said as you bent down slightly to have a better look at her face and perhaps give the cat some love through the small space of the bars. But the cat quickly moved away from your touch and softly hissed.

It hurt you, despite knowing that all cats have their temperament, until the vet spoke again, “Oh, she has always been a little grumpy; she’s not a fan of people.”

Levi also bent down to the cat's level, and he seemed to be the chosen one because the cat was continuously bumping her head against the cage, seeking more love from him. “Well, that makes two of us,” he commented, admitting his antisocial tendencies.

“When we found her, we thought she was feral because of the damage from living on the streets and her attitude, but we found she was chipped. We contacted the owner, but he said that since she couldn’t have more kittens, they left her in the streets,” both of you slightly raised to look at the shelter’s owner with heartbroken faces. “She’s been here for a while, but nobody wants her because she’s old, grumpy, and because of all the pregnancies she had, she has FIV, which is an expensive treatment an-”

“I’m taking her,” Levi interrupted the vet without a second thought, and you were about to comment that the plan was to get a dog, nothing against taking the little cat.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of responsibility, and she’s rather old,” the vet warned.

“I’m sure. What do I have to do to take her home?” Levi replied with confidence.

That’s how Chai Tea, or just Chai, came into your life. She was a grumpy old lady, but you two loved her to death, especially Levi. She seemed to be a golden brownish Persian, which made sense given her breeding history, but one of her ears was damaged from living on the streets, giving her a permanently angry face. The first sign of her enjoying being a spoiled princess was during her first visit to the vet after her adoption, when the instructions were to reduce her food rations because she was already a bit too chubby.

“Shhh, don’t listen to the vet. You’re perfect,” you heard Levi whispering as he rocked her in his arms in the kitchen. “Here, have some ham.”

She was obsessed with him, and he was obsessed with her. Did Levi complain about the hair? A lot, but at least he took the effort to vacuum and brush her himself. In his own words, “If I can make her life worth it for even a little bit at the end of it, then I’ll do it.”

It was endearing to receive a text message from Levi saying "On my way home," and then witness the little fluffy ball rushing down the hallway with her short legs once you tell her "Chai! Daddy is coming home!"

It was incredibly cute how she would meow all the way to the front door, occasionally looking back at you to make sure both of you were going to greet him.

It’s rather funny how he went to a shelter to get a big dog for his "bro's" adventures and came back with a cat that demanded to be picked up and rocked in his arms while he prepared dinner. Even funnier is how he accepted it. Now your camera phone is full of pictures and videos of Levi humming lullabies, sleeping with a cat on top of him, or holding her up in the air so she can hunt a moth.

A little bit jealous? Perhaps. Sometimes, Levi seems more eager to greet the fluffy cat when he gets home than he is to greet you. But being able to give an elderly cat a second chance was a better experience than anything else.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

The Nya-rtists of hotarubi

Hotarubi as cats

Wc:800

Subaru

I actually don't know what to imagine him as! But I guess a brown Scottish fold would fit, his little face looks like he is ready to apologize for breathing too loudly.

A cat that appeared in a few movies and shows as a kitten but stopped featuring around the time you got him. He is incredibly well trained, jumping between platforms or hoops or meowing when you do a small sign with your hand. He does seem to dislike giving the paw though.

Your merienda pal! Your tea time mate! When you sit down at 4 or 5 to drink some infusion and eat something he will sit down on the chair facing you. He looks so cute and looks at you with his big beautiful eyes that makes you give him a little treat to share with you. (Seemingly cats can drink moderately herbal tea so he would like that!)

The other two sometimes join you but Haku just splays down on your lap and will hold your hand as you handfeed him treats, Zenji doesn't seem too interested in treats and just wants to make you hear his horrid song.

Even though he is quite well behaved and never hisses at visits or you, he will paw and bite at you or any cats who attempt to kill a bug or hurt them. Little anomaly bug protector.

You are unsure if Subaru likes Zenji, maybe it's because he appeared out of nowhere or how he enjoys being sticked to someone else who sometimes happens to be the touch adverse cat, either way whenever Zenji starts singing he runs away to your room and burrows under your bed -his unofficial hideout with a cat tatami mat you bought him- or under your pillow to drown the noise out. When you attempt to pull him out his little face makes you leave him be.

Haku

He is a japanese bobtail cat that was raised in a shrine to hunt mouses but got sold because he wasn't catching any.

He is so quick to jump on your lap almost as soon as you get him home, purring and asking for scratches. He is such a loving boy to every visitor.

He likes music with flutes, he will loaf down on the middle of your sofa -preferably on a blanket too- and close his eyes.

Even though he is quite a chill and quiet kitty who loves to laze around and sunbathe, whenever Subaru is in trouble he will pop in to aid him. He it helping him out from a space that was smaller than he expected or meowing at you and waking you up when Suba lingers around your bed waiting for you to wake up and feed them.

The cat that will stand up straight and still suddenly as if he saw something on the middle of the night to freak you out and then fall asleep, he almost seems to enjoy making you nervous about ghost in your house.

Zenji

a Bombay cat His eyes bright and sleek body beautiful enough to be in a poem

For a nice while you thought you had only Haku and Subaru but it isn't until one night a horrible meowing wakes you up and you find a black cat in your living room. You rolled with it and introduced him to the other cats in the morning. When Subaru saw him he jumped back and ran back to your bed, but Haku just looked at him and walked to his food bowl.

You think Haku actually snuck him in, given how familiar he seemed to be with him. It also explains why he was so thin, the thing must have been sharing food with Zenji, though you never see him eat or drink.

Loves music! Not like Haku, who will lie down and vibe, his tail moving at most; Zenji will start scratching pillows and anything with threads, find him a scratch ball or anything. It's even worse if you yourself play the instruments, he will meow acting as the vocalist whenever you practice.

He is always hanging by Haku's tail! Whenever you look for one of them the other is close by. There are a few instances where he will take it to stalk you rather than Haku and will be surprised when you speak to him, as if he thought he was invisible.

One day he brought a cat plushie from the streets, you guess. it was all dirty and you had to stitch its underbelly so the stuffing wouldn't spill out. At night he hangs on the windowsill and licks it as if it was his brother.

A very vocal kitten! He does speak for all two of his brothers yelping and vocalizing at the minor (if any at all!) reason.

[gatitties]

More distractions

—Whitebeard Pirates x reader

—Summary: you are easily distracted by cute things

—Warnings: none

This was part of this request by @alicedash2 🫶🏻

(Strawhats, Heart Pirates & Kid Pirates ver.)

You ran through the small village where you had embarked a few hours ago, your breathing heavy and your heart pounding for lack of time.

Whitebeard had warned the entire crew that you would only be here for a couple of hours to replenish supplies, and yet you found yourself too captivated by some stray cats that you took it upon yourself to feed with the gold you stole from local thugs.

You were running late, and it wouldn't be the first time you stayed on an island alone because all the things that were adorable in your eyes managed to cloud your thoughts. You didn't want Marco or Ace to have to look for you again because you made a promise not to be late again, you'd embarrass yourself.

"It seems that you arrive just in time, another minute and you would have stayed on the island."

Izo smiled at you when you got on board, you wiped the sweat from your forehead, taking the opportunity to rest for a few minutes while you watched the rest move the sails and shout orders to disembark.

"I trusted you, I knew you would arrive on time, Thatch, you owe me an extra plate tonight!"

"Whatever..."

You raised an eyebrow at Ace and Thatch's conversation, making bets on whether you'd be there on time, you'd have time to prank them so they wouldn't bet on you.

"It's not good to take your body to extreme exhaustion without prior training-yoi"

"It's not like I do it every day anyway."

Marco helped you stand up once you relaxed, he frowned slightly as he saw how you brought your hands to your stomach.

"No, but I have a feeling that you will do it more times-yoi, does your stomach hurt?"

Your body tensed immediately, you turned your back to the doctor carefully holding the small bundle under your clothes.

"N-no, I was just hugging myself."

"Sure..."

You sighed in relief, although your peace of mind was ephemeral, Marco grabbed your arm causing all your balance to disappear, the small bundle was too heavy in your other hand to be able to hold it, causing it to fall to the ground.

"I should have guessed."

"Don't tell dad, I promised him I wouldn't bring any more cats on the ship! But it was impossible to resist this cutie..."

You grabbed the cat you were hiding before, holding it against your chest while you caressed its head, Marco sighed, he wasn't the one who decided here, but he wasn't going to say anything either, a cute kitten doesn't hurt anyone anyway.

"I won't say anything but I think it's better that you talk it over with dad, I'm sure he'll let you have it anyway."

"Alright! But if not, you will accompany me to feed at least a hundred stray kittens."

"Oka- wait what?"

"Oh, you can't break a promise!"

"You're not one to talk about that!"

The blond's words hung in the air, you turned a deaf ear, hopping towards Whitebeard's resting place hoping to have a new little member on board.

[kisscara]

Hello! Can I request scara with a s/o that really loves cats, like they stop by cats on the street to pet them and regularly feeds the cats around their area and adopted a cat or two? love how the re-write is going btw! Ty!

cat fever [scaramouche x gn!reader] ⎯⎯ modern au, fluff

a/n: NAURR SRRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT TYY

it's scaramouche's first time stepping foot inside of your house.

it's also his first time meeting your five cats, which includes two kittens.

"kuni, you're not truly my boyfriend if you haven't memorized my lovely felines by name," you giddily say, dragging him into your bedroom.

scaramouche doesn't get you.

what do cats have, that he doesn't? he's got everything down pat, besides the obvious things like physical characteristics of course. from the large ego to the sharp glare, he's just like a cat.

maybe that's why you were so drawn to him the first time you two met.

"kuni, this is ako!" you bend down to pick up a small brown kitty with white fur trailing up from its stomach to its mouth.

"she was born two weeks ago. isn't she cute?" you grin as you present the hyperactive kitty to scaramouche. he experimentally pokes the tummy and it purrs in response.

you press a kiss to her head and set her back down onto the floor of your room. scaramouche tilts his head, muttering, "how do you sleep at night with all of these?"

you ignore his question and sit down, allowing two cats to leap into your lap. you smile up at him.

"the black one is sayo and the brown one is lisa. lisa is ako's mom," you explain, patting their heads. scaramouche sits by you and almost instantly, does another kitty welcome herself onto his thighs. scaramouche flinches and you giggle, "that's rinko. don't worry, she's just excited to have another visitor."

scaramouche hesitates before giving it an awkward pat on the head. this cat of yours has beautiful pitch black eyes and gray fur. it seems to favor your guest. scaramouche rubs the ears and rinko mewls. you beam, "see, they aren't that bad!"

suddenly, he feels two paws pushing at his waist. "oh, there's yukina. he's the only male out of all of my cats and kittens." you usher the white cat over with a tsk, "yuki, come here, baby." yukina is lured towards your call and he crawls by your side instead.

ako cries out of lack of attention and scaramouche looks at her in pity. carefully, trying not to make you notice, he gestures for the kitty to join you two.

but nothing slips past you when someone else is with your cats. you tease him in a lilting tone, "have you grown a bond with one of them already?"

scaramouche sputters in a flustered state. "n-no. i still like dogs better." and he says all of this while eagerly petting rinko and ako's heads. you frown, "don't end up liking my pets more than me."

he suddenly raises a brow with a sly smile, "i never said anything whenever you'd run off to greet a street cat."

you look elsewhere, forcing a laugh, "oh, really? i don't recall such an event." scaramouche hums, "not only that, but you spend most of your allowance on things like cat toys instead of gifts for me."

you accusingly gasp, "isn't my affection enough!? plus, i do give you gifts... just not as often as i give them to my cats."

sayo curiously looks between you and him. lisa licks at ako's head in the middle of it all.

you cross your arms and huff, "and you're basically saying my kisses and hugs aren't worth the price of inanimate objects." scaramouche places his hand on his face, "i guess you got me there."

your jaw drops in shock, "so it's true?" he shakes his head in amusement and leans over to press a kiss on the corner of your lips.

you blankly stare at him as he resumes his previous sitting position. yukina meows. "wait, one more time. you didn't get it properly." at your remark, scaramouche laughs.

he sits closer to you and cups your face in his hands before slotting his lips into yours. sayo, getting the signal that something bad was happening to their owner, tugs at scaramouche's shirt. however, rinko knowingly mewls and doesn't interfere with the situation.

scaramouche pulls away and you clasp your hands together, sighing with your eyes closed, "what gift could possibly be better than that, kuni?" he smiles, "a ring." you wave him away, frantically saying, "it's too early, don't get any ideas yet!"

a little later, scaramouche agreed with helping you feed the cats.

"there's a name on each bowl and it's important that they eat from their own because there's a specific amount i give." you place pieces of meat in every bowl and scaramouche wordlessly watches while rocking rinko in his arms.

the cats, perceiving the fact that their food was in the process of being readied, politely wait for you to finish up. you lead every single one to their designated bowl and allow them to eat up for dinner.

you hold up one finger, saying, "let's do a practice run." you point to the black cat. "what's their name?" you glance at scaramouche and he silently ponders. "that was... erm," scaramouche squints his eyes and rubs his chin. "obviously ako." he proudly smirks, crossing his arms.

his reign of victory fades away when you bluntly say, "wrong." you crouch down to pet the cat and correct him, "this is sayo. she probably doesn't like you anymore, now that you've mistaken her for ako. she's a very picky one when it comes to people."

scaramouche's shoulders sink and he utters, "reminds me of myself."

you laugh and stand back up. "maybe you should help me give them a bath. it might be easier to tell who's who when their fur is soaking wet and they're trying to escape the suds and the water!" you playfully prod, emitting a sigh from the male.

"don't cats hate baths? are you trying to get me killed?" scaramouche raises a brow.

you frown, "oh, i'm not that heartless, kuni! you can borrow my arm length gloves; i don't use them anymore since they got used to me bathing them." you hand him the said gloves and he puts them on. "thanks... i guess."

but oh boy, giving your cats a bath was probably the biggest obstacle scaramouche had to experience in his entire life.

he didn't get how you could just kneel there, bending over the side of the tub as you calmly dealt with their tantrums like it happened everyday, which was possibly the reason why you were used to it by now.

although, you were right. it did give scaramouche a chance to find out which cat is which, with you giving him commands the entire time.

"kuni, watch out for yukina! n-no, that one's rinko! ah, is that a dead mouse? wait, can you get lisa for me? kuni, that's ako!" yeah, it was a wild time.

scaramouche groans and plops onto your bed out of exhaustion. you sit next to him and laugh, "i'm guessing you should know their names by now." ako is in your arms and her teeth dig into your finger over and over. scaramouche notices this and looks at you.

do you have a high pain tolerance or something?

as if you read his mind, you say, "ako is teething; it's natural for her to have the need to bite into things. she doesn't bite too hard so it doesn't pain me or anything." you prop the kitten to sit in your lap and you coo, "isn't that right, ako?"

ako mewls in response. scaramouche murmurs, "i see." he adds, "i can't believe you can manage five cats all on your own. i thought you weren't even capable of keeping me alive." his lighthearted joke emits a giggle from you.

"oh, hey!" you add with a grin, "you can be my cats' father!" scaramouche suddenly deadpans, "what?"

"yeah, i'm their parent and that means you're their father now." you give him a swift kiss on the cheek, leaving the male speechless. scaramouche sighs, "i never would have imagined being a father of five..."

© kisscara