#its the last piece of food in the bins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

violetarks · 1 year ago

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spit on my grave, but kiss my mouth!

anime: chainsaw man

characters: hayakawa aki, kishibe, yoshida hirofumi, himeno

summary: they hate you, they can feel it in their bones, but at the first opportunity to kiss you? who wouldn't take that chance?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, some name-calling, somebody tries to lush to get y/n's number in yoshida's, kishibe is in his late 20s bc holy smokes he would outshine the whole cast if he is was younger in the anime no lie, kishibe is also a little flirty in this bc that's how he was when he was younger, smoking, drinking (y/n gets a little tipsy), reference to nsfw themes but its legit just the lines "you need an s/o bc you're so tense all the time" and "we didn't... did we?", y/n and kishibe go home together, also a bit suggestive in himeno's part

↣ hayakawa aki

if there was anything he hated more than anything, aki absolutely despised slackers. anyone who postponed their work til the last minute, and for the result to be the most sloppy piece of shit he has ever seen. which is why he didn't understand why makima would ever think of hiring someone like you as a devil hunter.

you stood there, your uniform messily put on — for god's sake, your tie was undone, just hanging around your neck! even power and denji dressed better than you. how could these devils do better than a devil hunter?

you sat atop makima's desk, getting the crumbs of your sandwich all over her furniture. aki visibly cringed. how could you be so careless?

it wasn't like you were unattractive, it's just the way you acted at work that made aki dislike you. and in front of your superior. truthfully, the only reason makima hired you was because of your amazing skill as a hunter without the use of contracts. if you weren't so useful...

when he first met you, aki would admit, he was intrigued. you were pretty, and makima had brought you in to interview you. you were splattered in devil's blood, and you looked serious.

yet the moment that you locked eyes with aki, your demeanour changed. you were suddenly so sloppy. he saw the way you held out your bloodied hand to shake his, how you lazily threw your dirty coat on the couch. he knew from then on, that your looks were a waste, perhaps.

"are you finished, y/n?" makima asked, walking into her office in her trench coat. aki was called there for a morning briefing, so imagine his disappointment when he saw you instead. you nodded your head, hopping off the desk and sweeping the mess you made into the nearby bin. "good. now, you two are teaming up for your next mission."

aki wanted to refuse, so badly. he watched as you tugged on your loose collar, shirt not even tucked in, and stood beside him. he listened to makima outline the upcoming mission, and also listened to how often you yawned or shifted in your spot. you seemed so unintetrsted.

aki's never been on a mission with you, but he's seen the mess you leave behind, more than he would've left. and he's seen you guiltlessly nap in the car while everyone else cleaned up your leftovers.

you were careless when you fought, as seen when you dodge under the attack of a devil and trip over debris on the floor. aki slides in with his unpowered sword, slicing the mutated arm away and shielding you from another attack.

"get up, dumbass!" he calls, looking over his shoulder to see you brushing off dust from your lap.

"relax, geez. i'm up, i'm up." you scoff back, picking up your weapon again. aki wanted to slap some sense into you. "i'm so tired, let's get this done."

the fight continued on until it was at what seemed to be the climax. you were both beaten down, the devil on the brink of giving up. but you gripped your weapon tighter, rushing towards the enemy with determination. you were growing tired of this fight, both mentally and physically. you were imagining yourself at home, in front of the tv with some food in your hands. anywhere but here.

"aki?" you call, looking around the scene. you couldn't find him, and it was worrying you. "aki!"

you were met with silence, making you scowl and continue on trying to defeat the devil. maybe by then, you'll be able to find him and bring him back to makima for help. god, you hated dead weight.

with a few attacks landing on the devil, aki finally stands from his position beneath debris. he had been hit into a wall, making the ceiling fall over him. when he had made himself visible. you glance at him, relieved.

"y/n..." he heaves, drawing his sword. he was bleeding from his shoulders and you could count the tears and cuts in his uniform. and he blamed you for being dirty...

before you can speak, the devil immediately charges towards him. you widen your eyes, racing after it. "aki!"

he breathes in heavily, trying to gather his focus. but his vision is just so blurry that he can't think properly. the blood he's lost has already made him hazy, all he can hear is the loud footsteps of the devil. his joints click and falter as he tries to take his normal fighting stance. he's weak and you can see it.

with all your might, you rush towards him. you couldn't let him die, not someone as strong and admirable as him. while you knew he disliked you (aki definitely wasn't the most subtle), you couldn't deny his worth as a hunter, and as a person. you looked up to him.

aki doesn't know what is happening until he sees you jump high in the air and thrust your weapon to pierce through the devil's skin, knocking it off course. as it skids to the side, you tumble to the ground, rolling on the ground and getting dirt and blood all over you. aki blinks, clueless.

"are you alright, aki?" you huff out, tired. he slowly hums in confirmation. you send him a smile, which makes him gulp. "that's a relief."

the devil turns back to him though, not stopping on its tracks to get to aki. by this time, you're in front of your co-worker, holding your weapon to prepare yourself. with a deep breath, you wait for the devil to come closer before dealing the final blow, ending the devil's life.

once the devil falls lifeless, you let out a loud whine, "agh, finally! ah, i'm so beat!" you fall to the floor, knees giving out beneath you. aki watches you stay on the ground, wiping the sweat off from your brow. with a click of his tongue, he falls to the ground as well. you turn to look at him, blinking. "ah, aki. that devil really fucked you up, huh?"

you laugh makes him even more weak. you move closer to him, taking his chin and turning his head to see his bruises. "we should get you back to the office. i'll patch you up before denji and power see you, alright? they'd piss themselves seein' you like this." you joke, patting his shoulder. your carefree attitude was so irritable...but he couldn't deny that your words made him feel lighter.

so when he pushes forward and presses his lips to yours, he knows why his heart pulses harder when he's around you. he likes you. his palm rests on your neck to hold you in place, making you lean your hands on both sides of his waist to balance yourself. aki squeezes his eyes shut, as if to keep himself from seeing your shocked face.

you were speechless, frozen. but once you settled in, you kissed him back. you tasted like blood — maybe that was his own since he cut his lip — but neither of you seemed to mind. his harsh hand against the back of your head suddenly goes soft, trailing down to brush your cheek.

he sighed against your lips, upturned brows. he felt like he needed this. he needed you.

aki was mysterious with his true feelings, but this was the first glimpse into them. you let out a small sigh as you pull away.

"you—..." you mumble out, covering your mouth as you sit up straight. his hand leaves your cheek, now gripping the debris beneath him. he felt so embarrased. "idiot aki. c'mon, let's get outta' here first."

you heave aki over your shoulder, his arm over while yours is wrapped around his middle. he was also speechless, blushing so red that he kept his head down so you couldn't see. his heart was beating faster at your touch. but to kiss you? he was truly crazy, wasn't he?

↣ kishibe

"can you smoke somewhere else?" you scoff, bringing your glass to your lips. the rest of the room was filled with slight chatter, the sound if cups being clinked together.

"you see any spare seats at this bar?" kishibe asks, putting his lighter away into his pocket. the bar allowed smoking, one of the only bars in the neighbourhood that still did. he watched you roll your eyes and finish your drink, asking the bartender for another. "you're so uptight, ya'know?"

"you're the most annoying person i've ever been paired up with." you groan, watching your glass get refilled. you take your glass once more and glare at kishibe. "those things kill you."

"you drink." he says, putting down his own cold alcoholic beverage. you click your tongue at him. "you act like you're so much better than me."

"you smoke and drink, you smug asshole." you grunt, feeling a little woozy from the past hour of non-stop drinking you and kishibe have been partaking in.

this was his idea, saying that you needed to wind down. you enjoyed a few drinks every now and then, but today had been particularly hard on you. makima was really ripping into after a devil got away, making you go after them again with your partner present this time. you felt embarrassed at your loss. as much as you were strong, kishibe hated how weak you were.

there was no denying that you were somewhat talented, so why weren't you getting stronger? kishibe was already tired from his own work, but when he was paired with you, his job got even harder. you were lazy with your work, leaving hints of your weaknesses everywhere you stepped. and you wondered why. kishibe couldn't handle how much if a rule-follower you were when your strength wasn't anything impressive. sometimes he'd with you'd abandon your work and finally leave all this stuff behind. such an attractive person like you shouldn't be burning their brain trying to work as a devil hunter.

"why don't you just drink and shut up?" kishibe huffs, keeping his cigarette between his fingers. he blew the smoke into the air above you, making you cover your nose and scowl at him. you hated smoking, all the reason why you disliked being partnered up with him. he wasn't kishibe without his smokes. "you're do tense all the time, you need a girlfriend or boyfriend or something. maybe you'll relax a lil'."

"and you're telling me to shut up." you groan, waving the smoke away. kishibe rolls his eyes leaning his elbows into the counter. "you know what, kishibe? i've seriously had enough of—of your attitude."

he watches you down glass after glass; it was kicking in, the alcohol. he was wondering how long it would take before you started slurring your words. it was subtle, but kishibe has never seen you like this, not yet at least. it would be a fun way to tease you tomorrow morning when you come in to work. you glare at him, blinking a few times. he waited impatiently for you to collect your words.

"ever since i met you, you've been a pain in my ass, always runnin' your pretty mouth and rolling your pretty eyes at me." you complain, continuing to drown yourself in the sweet drinks you were taking. kishibe sighs to himself, already knowing that you'll be too drunk to pay your own bill. he pulls out his wallet to start counting bills as you go on to 'insult' him. he'd have to be careful now, he was starting to feel the alcohol too. "if you weren't so strong, i'd kick your ass myself!"

"oh yeah?" he says, deciding on when to stop you from ordering. he calls down the bartender for a few more glasses for you and himself. "you're too weak to pull somethin' like that, sweetheart. can't even hold your own against a low rank devil. need someone strong to protect you, huh?"

"what? says who?" you say, voice raising a little. he hated it when you did that, it was so annoying. you were so childish for someone only a year younger than him. "i was doing perfectly fine without you! makima needed me to babysit you..."

"what are you even goin' on about?" he huffs, taking in some smoke, "do you even know what i'm saying? are you that drunk?"

while you were a little tipsy, you definitely weren't drunk. you were just slurring your words a little, but you were conscious. you weren't saying anything you wouldn't say sober. you knew what you were doing, and how you were acting.

"'course not, shithead. i'm not getting drunk in front of you." you tell him, gulping down another drink. he thinks that maybe your tolerance is moderately high. "i'm just sayin', you're never gonna' get married if you're like that. you're lucky i tolerate you, somebody has to."

he raises a brow at that, then taking one last huff of his cigarette before putting it out in the ash tray provided. "so you're saying i'll only get married if my romantic partner tolerates me?"

"duh." you scoff, tilting your head at him. was he getting drunk? it was also your heightened confidence that he found annoying.

"and you're the only one who tolerates me?" kishibe presses.

"yeah." you answer so quickly that you don't even think. once you realise what you've said, you put your glass down. your face was burning now, and you didn't know whether it was because of the drinks or him. he chuckles. "shut up..."

"mhm." he hums out, now leaning close to you. your shoulders nearly press against each other. he sees no sign of you moving away, but you begin to stare at him, unable to figure out which eye to look at. "you wanna' kiss me?"

you let out a small sigh, glancing down at his lips for a second. but you harden your stare in his eyes.

"or are you asking me to kiss you?" he offers. your eyes widen a little at that, and it seems he has his answer already. but you were so cute like this, he just had to tease you. "but i've been smoking. it'll taste like it, y'know?"

"just let me find out." you mumble, placing a hand on the side of his stool, against his thigh, "kiss me once?"

"well, shit." he chuckles out, now resting a hand on your cheek. you blink at him, feeling comfortable against his palm. "you've got a little crush on me."

you furrow your brows and mumble out, "s—so?"

"ain't that cute?" he says, brushing his thumb against your cheek, "you're not gonna' slap me if i kiss you, are ya'?"

"only if you keep on wasting time." you huff, fist against the bar top. you would never ask him something like this out of the blue. but the atmosphere around you both... it felt suitable. a small smile dawns on his lips at your eagerness.

"fine." he sighs out, leaning forward and finally connecting lips with yours. you hold your breath, not really expecting him to do it. your hand on the stool tightens its grip as he slides his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. your lips were so soft, and warm. he can tell that you haven't kissed many people, but that doesn't matter. he never thought he'd be kissing you either.

he had been smoking for the past hour, so he did taste like smoke. while you hated the taste, now, it was sort of masked by the drinks you were both having. and you just couldn't get it out of your head that you were kissing kishibe. the man you kinda' hated.

the kiss didn't last as long as either of you would've wanted, but it's a public place and you only asked for a sample. when he pulls away, you open your eyes to see his smug smile that always makes you irritated. but this time, you're just plain embarrassed. he begins to laugh at you softly, making you click your tongue and push his face away.

"d—don't talk about it." you say, standing up and grabbing your coat. you pay for your drinks with a tip and avoid eye contact with your partner. he downs the rest of his drink and puts his own money down. you begin to walk to the exit before kishibe reaches out and holds your wrist. you glare back at him. "what?"

"can't let you go home all by yourself." he says, standing up and shrugging his trench coat on. you squint at him. "and you don't wanna' let lil' ol' me walk home alone either, do you? let's take a cab to yours."

"seriously?" you mumble under your breath, walking to the exit with him behind you. "fine... you can sleep on the couch."

"aw, such a pity."

↣ yoshida hirofumi

"yoshida, may i speak with you for a moment?" the teacher asks after the bell rings, making everyone in the class turn to their classmate. a playful 'ooh' rang around the room to tease him, making yoshida roll his eyes with a smile. the rest of the class begins to tidy their things up until the teacher speaks up again. "class president, please wait outside for a few minutes.

you look up from your desk, blinking at your teacher. but you nod your head. "yes, ma'am." you respond, fixing your uniform and taking your bag, heading outside with your friends.

yoshida can't help but roll his eyes at the way you walk out of the classroom, all preppy and gracious. you don't even look at him, as if he was scum compared to you. the two of you weren't friends and that was clear enough. you were the class president and needed to keep everyone in order. the rest of the class had liked you and you were friends with other classes too. but the only one who didn't like you was yoshida hirofumi.

you told him that the school didn't allow all those piercings and that the standard were the studs. but he came back the next day with another piercing, showing it off with a diamond earring that he wore once for the purpose of pissing you off. you reprimanded him, disliking his laidback attitude and how he didn't take school seriously. what a waste of a student. you knew plenty of people who would do way better in his position. someone like you knew this and hated that he didn't.

yoshida hated how uptight you were and how you were such a stickler for the rules. he knows that he's not a good student, but why were you always on his ass for it? there were other people in the class — hell, there were tons of other people in the school that you could've been paying attention to, but you chose him. he hated it so much.

"to cut it short, yoshida, your grades have been dropping severely." the teacher had said, making the student snap back into reality. he stands up straight again, nodding his head. "i've decided to allocate you a tutor for all of your classes. you and—"

"don't say l/n."

"... l/n will be meeting on your own terms to study. they're an excellent student and have tutored many of your classmates, yoshida, there is no need to worry." the teacher continued, handing him a stack of papers. he holds them, heaving them under his arms. "practice exams, practice essay, practice tests. you will go through all of these with l/n."

"seriously?" yoshida huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, "for how long?"

"until your grades are better." the teacher explains, sitting down to grade their quiz from today, "i understand that the two of you aren't close, but make-do for now. you need to rely on them."

"i understand." he sighs, taking the work and leaving the classroom. he sees you standing next to the door, bag on your shoulder as you read a book. he wants to cringe at the cliché scene. "hey. you're tutoring me."

"i know." you respond, tucking your book into your bag and starting on your way, "we're heading to the city library."

"wait, what? you knew?" he says, falling into step beside you. you nod your head. he knits his brows at you as you exit the school. "great. now i gotta' spend months with you."

"just get your grades up and you're fine." you respond, looking to the sky for some patience. he was already getting annoying. "trust me, even a delinquent like you can pass the next exam."

"you talk a lotta' shit for a goody-two-shoes." he huffs, swinging his bag recklessly around. the two of you board a train towards the city and you take the papers from yoshida, flicking through them and making notes of what to teach him. he watches you from his spot beside you. "even your handwriting is blinding. why is it so... neat?"

"you mean readable?" you scoff, looking at him with an aggravated expression. why did he talk so much? "i'm doing this for you."

"why did you even agree to this if we don't like each other?" he asks you, watching the roof of the strangely empty train. you look back to the work, sorting them into sections. "you have a secret crush on me or something?"

"what? no, idiot." you scoff, shaking your head, "i just don't want you to fall behind. it'd be a shame for everyone else to graduate without you." he looks back to you, a surprised look on his face. but you look away, outside. "don't look too much into it, yoshida. just trying to keep the class average up."

"yeah, whatever..." he mumbles, going back to hating you. any sliver of you being genuinely nice was now gone. he just listened to the way the train rolled across the tracks. he listened to you scribble down your notes.

he had watched countless people confess to you. just yesterday, a girl handed you a bouquet of flowers — your favourite ones, apparently — and confessed to you that she had feeling for you for a year. but you rejected her, apologising and saying that you did not return her feelings. it felt somewhat cold, yoshida was watching from around the corner. luckily you didn't notice him, you probably would've told him off for not doing his class duties.

he never understood the appeal to you. why did so many people want you?

a few minutes kater, you were in the library, setting up your things in a private study area. you gave him some work to try out and pulled out your own things to do. he sighs, taking out his pencil case to write on the paper, "put on some music or something."

"this is a library, yoshida." you retort, rolling your eyes, "just do your work and show me when you're done."

"jesus, i can't believe people actually like you." he groans, leaning back in his chair. you blink at his insult. "i don't understand why everyone flocks around you and throw themselves in your direction."

"i'm the class president, people come to me for advice all the time. maybe if you showed up to class more than one a week you'd notice." you huff out, glaring at him, "people like me because i'm good help."

"singing your own praises?" he snickers, flipping through the booklet. he hated how confident you were in yourself when he really saw you as overbearing. even the way you sat there, writing with your perfect handwriting. "i can't deal with you, president."

"i couldn't tell." you sigh, standing up. he watches your movements. "i'm going to grab you a book go borrow for the next week. it has all you need to know on the book we studied this semester. i don't have enough time to explain everything to you before the exams since it's in a few months. but that book will help."

"yay..." he mumbles out, moving onto the next set of questions. he waited for you to come back with your stupid book, but enough time had passed that it was suspicious. he even finished the booklet that you gave him, and that took him a while. he looks around the library, seeing few people walking about. "where are they go? don't tell me they abandoned me here..."

he stands up, positive your stuff would stay safe, and begins to look through the aisles. he doesn't see you yet, and he's getting pissed out. you made him come here, and you just ditched? that's so 'un-presidently' of you.

but he hears your voice in the next aisle, sounding pissed off. like always, when you spoke to him.

"thank you for showing me where the book is, but i should get going." you say, yoshida standing at the other end of the aisle, out of your sight. he could see the boom you were holding and your stupid hair, but you were blocked off by someone else. "please leave me alone."

"aw, what? i help you find your book and this is the thank i get?" the taller person says, hand against the bookshelf to keep you from walking off. you roll your eyes at them. "c'mon, just your number, that's all i ask for."

"it's your job to help people in the library find their books. you work here." you explain, tucking the book under your arm, "i don't owe you anything other than a 'thank you'."

"well i take my 'thank you's in dates." they respond. yoshida sighs, clenching his fists and walking towards the both of you. "what's somebody gotta' do to land one with you—"

"leave 'em alone, asshole." yoshida scoffs, tugging the worker back and standing in between the both of you. you widen your eyes at him before looking away, a bit ashamed to need his help. but yoshida is glaring at the librarian. "they're not interested."

"shit man, i'm sorry, i didn't know they—"

"yeah whatever. get outta here." yoshida scoffs, rolling his eyes. the worker only looks his up and down before walking off, muttering under their breath. once they're gone, yoshida looms to you. "you good?"

"yeah..." you mumble out, rubbing your forehead, "people like that give me a headache.

"mhm." he huns out, seeing how you lean against the bookcase. you stared down st the analytical text in your hands. you were so embarrassed that he had to come in and save you. some like him, protecting you...

you look back up and see his smug face, and you just know that he's aware of how you're feeling.

"who would've guessed it? i had to come to the class president's aid." yoshida chimes, leaning a hand against the bolted down bookshelf. you scowl at him, closing your eyes. "i guess you owe me one now, huh?"

"and once again, you're an ass..." you retort. your little scrunched up face makes yoshida smile. genuinely. he scans your appearance before tilting his head at you.

"what is it that makes people fawn over you so much?" he questions, looking confused. you open your eyes to see him standing closer. "i mean, sure, you're cute, but that's about it, no? your stubbornness ruins it all. as soon as you open your mouth, i wanna burst my ear drums."

"whatever, yoshida. i don't care what you have to say." you mumble back at him.

"see? so mean." he chuckles, take another step closer. you notice but don't say anything, to which he notices as well. out of all the people who have liked you, he's surely standing the closest. you haven't pushed him away, which is strange. you'd usually be out in a second. but you stand your ground. he smiles at you. "how could anyone find that attractive?"

you look to the side for a split second, only for yoshida to come unbearably closer. you can feel his breath on your cheek and his shoulder is against yours. his other hand stays in his pocket while the other braces himself. you hold your own breath.

"maybe people only like your pretty face." he says, not missing a beat as his hand slides down to hold the shelf beside your torso. his wrist slightly grazes your body. you shiver for a second, standing up straighter. yoshida pays attention. "you think so, y/n?"

"no, i—i don't." you stammer. yoshida is surprised when he feels you grasp his shirt, making him lean back jut enough to see your expression. you could barely hold your glare. so cute. "i'm... i'm a good person, so that's why—"

"that's the first thing people notice when they look at you. your looks." he claims, making your face burn hot. but yoshida just smiles at you. "you sayin' i'm wrong?"

you scoff at him, "why are you so close anyway...?" he raises his brows at you, eyes flicking to your lips for more than a second. you realise what he's looking at before you speak again. "yoshida...?"

"you don't seem to mind..." he trails off, "you can always push me away if i get too close..."

you don't say anything as he gets closer and closer until suddenly, he's kissing you. yoshida's hand stays at the shelf to hold himself up, but his other one gently holds your hand against his chest. you're kissing back before you can even think, your other hand still holding onto the book.

he tastes a bit savoury, probably because of the hot lunch he had before. but the drink he had on the table where you two were studying, is sweet. the mixture entices you as you as you are the one to deepen the kiss, pushing forward and catching yoshida by surprise.

you let out a small squeak; it was obvious you weren't experienced. with how seriously you took school, how could you be? yoshida didn't have his fair share of partners either but, he was so gentle with you.

when he pulls away, he opens his eyes to see your dazed look towards him. you gulp once you regain your sense of thought, then leaning back.

"i'm sorry, i—"

"i guess you're not a terrible kisser." he interrupts you, standing up straight and keeping his hands to himself. you feel somewhat relieved, but you nudge yoshida in the stomach due to embarrassment. "hey, stop. maybe that's why people like you."

"i don't go around kissing everyone, shit for brains." you claim, shoving the book into his chest. he stands back with an 'oof', watching you walk out of the aisle.

"so it's just me?" he chuckles, jogging to catch up with you. you glare at him. "how lucky."

↣ himeno

himeno didn't understand why aki spoke so highly of you. her friend, whose opinion was usually right, explained that you were a tremendous hunter and that you were highly respected. so why are you in her apartment, in your shirt and underwear, and eating out of her fridge?

"morning." you say, seeing the groggy himeno coming out of her room. she blinks cluelessly at you. "you hungry? i made breakfast."

"the hell are you doing here?" she grunts, walking closer to you in a hoodie and sweatpants. you look back at her, sorting the breakfast into two bowls. "and why are you using my food?"

"huh? you don't remember? you invited me over last night after drinks." you explain, taking out two spoons and shoving one into the food before pushing the bowl to himeno. "you're wearing my sweater, by the way."

"i was wonder when i bought this." she murmurs to herself. but she then shakes her head, sitting down at the counter and thinking to herself why would she ever invite the person she loathed the most to stay at hers? "we didn't... did we?"

"no, himeno. you were black out drunk, y'know." you say in an obvious tone. she clicks her tongue and eats her food. you begin to eat as well. "did you take the medicine and drink the water i left on your bedside table?"

why were you acting so nice? she gripped her spoon tighter, stopping her movements as she swallows her food. "yes. you didn't have to do that." she thinks she would've preferred if you didn't. now she feels obligated to return the favour.

"it's nothing. i didn't want you to wake up so hungover again." you retort, looking to the ceiling.

she scans you and wonders how you could be so indecent in front of her when you were 'well-respected'. your underwear was showing, you weren't wearing any pants, your shirt was crinkled and loose hanging, your hair was a mess and you just look tired overall. this was not the pristine presentation he was used to.

you catch her staring. "sorry, do you want me to put on my pants? i couldn't find em around here." you admit, looking at the messy floor. himeno feels a little embarrassed at the mess but doesn't keep her eyes off you.

"no, it's fine." she retorts, feeling her eye patch before running her fingers through her hair, "don't you have a mission or something?"

you think for a second before putting down the bowl. "yeah, i think. later, makima wants me to check something out with her." you tell her, watching her roll her eyes, "what's wrong?"

"you in love with her too?" she scoffs.

"no?" you say, tilting your head, "she's my boss."

"oh." you'd be the first she'd hear doesn't like her. she sits up straight on her stool. "really?"

"yeah, really." you say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, making himeno stop. you continue to eat your food. "i don't date superiors."

"right..." she mumbles back, confused. but you accidentally drop your spoon on the floor, making you curse quietly. she's never heard you swear, and she stares at you.

you lick your thumb, a little bit of sauce on it, before you turn to her with wide eyes. "ah, sorry, himeno. paper towels?"

she points to the cupboard and finishes her food, watching you clean up your mess. you're not really clumsy, she knows, so seeing you drop something was strange. you were usually moving so perfectly...

"you always like this?" she hums out, chin in her hand.

you put the towels in the bin and take your empty bowls (hers as well) and clean them. "i'm sorry, i live alone. so no one really sees me mess up." you admit.

himeno hates your voice. you don't speak much, but when you do, she's rolling her eyes. what you have to say is usually so inspiring to the other hunters, but she finds them cheesy. kobeni was brought to happy tears by what you said to her before a mission, which made himeno stop everyone and wait for kobeni to stop crying.

you're so high and mighty. everyone loves you and you try to be so mysterious. she never understood why everyone liked you, why everyone tolerated you when you don't do anything. maybe you're strong, stronger than aki and kishibe, but you were just praised so much that she hated you.

but seeing you now, all over the dishes and struggling to clean the things you used, it makes you feel more human to her. she watches you from the counter, hearing you curse to yourself as the dishwashing soap falls from your hand and into the soapy water. you turn to her to see if she saw. she did. you embarrassed yourself, and you sheepishly look away. she smiles. and stops as soon as she realises she is.

you were like some high school kid watching themselves around their crush. the way you glanced at her told her all she needed to know.

"i'm gonna go and change." she says, standing up from her stool and moving to her bedroom. she doesn't wait for your reply, but she heard a faint 'okay' from her room.

she didn't understand the change. admittedly, last night was the only time she's seen you outside of work hours, where no devils were there to stop you from being just you. you were sitting quietly, listening to everyone speak. you didn't know what to say.

after you finish the dishes, you try to clean up around the living room and kitchen. there were blankets and pillows all on the floor, maybe she was having a party or something. but you pick them up, fold them, put them in their place. and you finally find your pants, sliding them on happily.

you look for your belt under the couch when you hear someone clear their throat. looking up, you see himeno standing in her work attire with her arms crossed.

"hey, i'm looking for something, sorry." you say, standing up. she hands you your hoodie, which you plan on putting over your work shirt and tie. you just needed to find your belt and you would be set. "i'll be ready soon—oof!"

you fall onto the couch, on your back, as himeno moves forward and clambers over you. she gives you a pointed look as you stare up at her, feeling your face heating up. you gulp, one hand bracing the cushion of the couch, and the other hanging off the side. she's loosely straddling one of your thighs, hovering above you as her hand still on the sides of your head.

"h—himeno—"

"do you have a crush on me?" she interrupts you, tilting her head.

"what? that would be unprofessional, i—i couldn't..." you begin, losing your voice as you feel how close she is to you. your heart speeds up. "i'm sorry..."

"i knew it..." she huffs, leaning to the side a little. she scans your face, how your eyes stay on her. "you're terrible at hiding it."

"i'm sorry." you say, gulping. she was leaning closer, and you were getting nervous. "please don't hate me for it. we're partners."

"i bet you wish we were more." she jokes, gently grasping your chin so you look her dead in the eyes. you look like a poor deer in headlights. "i already hate you. everyone talks about how cool and how strong you are. and you suck it all in, go along with it. makes you feel better, doesn't it?"

"what?" you whisper out, blinking innocently.

"i hate people like you." she says, enjoying how you helplessly stared at her. you looked so hopeless — hopelessly in love with her. without a word more, she leans down and softly connects her lips with yours.

you hold your breath, keeping still as she kisses you. it was so out of the blue — didn't she say she hated you? you carefully move your free hand to the back of her neck, squeezing your eyes shut and missing her back eagerly.

her hand drops from your chin, dragging down to stop at your waist, holding you from there. your breathing hitches, and you pull away slightly to gasp. she catches your lips again, setting herself down to straddle you properly. she continues to kiss you as you sit up slightly, elbows bent to hold your weight.

you felt hot in the face, you knew you were embarrassing yourself by being such a klutz. but as her lips leave yours, you almost chase. himeno was an enchantress. you loved her smell, the sound of her voice, the way she walked. and here she was, saying how much she hated you.

"i—i thought you didn't like me." you huff out, sitting up straight to be face to face with himeno. your lidded eyes and dazed expression made her hold her breath for a moment. but, as if you've gathered your confidence, you begin to lean in again. "do... you not wan—"

"don't you have to meet up with makima?" she says, placing a hand on your chest and shoving you back to lay down again with a huff. she hops off your, moving to grab her shoes. "c'mon, before you're late and your amazing reputation is ruined."

you take a moment to gather yourself. your hair was even more messed up, and you stared at the roof with a heavy heart. it was beating fast, making you take in a deep breath and sit up, fixing your outfit and hair. you look behind you, seeing your belt underneath the pillow. after standing up and putting it on, you see himeno waiting for you.

she was leaning against the wall, watching you scramble to put your shoes on. she herself was wondering why she had kissed you too. you were always good-looking, but the way you acted pissed her off. did your prettiness really cloud her judgement.

she looks down to you sitting on the floor, struggling to tie your shoelaces. she chuckles.

no, she just met the real you today.

#hayakawa aki #hayakawa aki x reader #aki #aki x reader #kishibe #kishibe x reader #yoshida hirofumi #yoshida hirofumi x reader #yoshida #yoshida x reader #himeno #himeno x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #csm #csm x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months ago

Text

Someone Like You

Pairing: Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) x f!reader Warnings: Mild angst, handjob, smut. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: The Halcyon is hosting its Christmas Eve party for its guests, and her and Billy are both feeling the pressure of being rushed off their feet. They find a moment of respite alone together.

Author's note: A part two of my first Smuffmas entry. Day eleven of the Smuffmas prompts - "a fancy party and praising". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It has been twelve days since her and Billy had decorated the staff sitting room. Twelve long, miserable days since she had last felt his lips upon hers and the way he’d rutted against her, not that she’s counting. They have scarcely had a chance to see each other in the lead up to Christmas. Beyond shy smiles and blushes exchanged in passing, they’ve had no other interaction. But that’s not for lack of wanting to or trying. The mistletoe she’d rescued has remained in her apron pocket, primed for an opportune moment.

December is always the busiest time of year for the hotel. People want to celebrate in style, and so they check in to the Halcyon to be waited on hand and foot. She’s not sure what it is about Christmas that drives people to make the most outlandish demands of the staff, but it has stolen away her festive cheer. She is exhausted.

It’s Christmas Eve and the day has been spent preparing for the annual party they host for the guests who will be staying with them on the big day itself. On top of turning down rooms, and helping the kitchen staff to prepare food, she’s now expected to serve drinks at the party itself.

The staff who are married with children have been given Christmas off to spend with their families, so The Halcyon is operating on a skeleton crew of the young and the single, her and Billy are unlucky enough to find themselves among them.

She weaves her way through the bar, abuzz with the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses. Every surface seems to glitter with decorations, amplified by the muted lighting of the lamps that adorn the centre of each table.

Nodding and smiling politely each time a guest relieves her of a saucer of champagne that rests on the heavy tray she carries around the room, she breathes a withering sigh once it’s finally empty. Her feet ache with how many passes she’s made around the crowded space, yet there’s no time to rest. She has to collect the empties and take them back to the kitchen to be washed, so that they can be refilled anew by the bar staff. It seems never ending.

Doing a quick scan of the bar, she can see that Kate and Feldman are circling the room with drinks and canapés, so she’ll be fine to leave for a little while to wash up some glasses. The food prep has already been done, so the kitchen is empty, save for the staff going in to refresh plates and glassware.

The empties rattle precariously against each other on her tray as she walks carefully back to the kitchen, her burden suddenly seeming not quite so great as she spots Billy doing exactly the same thing. He’s clad in his usual bellboy uniform, though is without his cap, a means to help him blend in with the rest of the serving staff.

He pushes his tray onto the draining board next to the sink, and a glass wobbles, toppling off and shattering loudly against the hard linoleum of the kitchen floor.

“Ah– shit!” He grumbles, kneeling to pick up the pieces.

She quickly deposits her own tray onto the food prep table and kneels to help him.

“It’s okay, Billy, it’s just a glass,” she reassures him, picking up some of the larger shards and depositing them into the bin beneath the sink.

“I know, I know,” he replies with a sigh, “but I can’t seem to get anything right today.”

“How do you mean?” She asks, righting herself and brushing her hands on her skirt as he reaches for a dustpan and brush to sweep up the rest of the mess.

“Spilled champagne all down a lady’s frock just now, broke a glass,” his brow furrows as he brushes the broken pieces into the pan and empties it into the bin. “Brought the wrong luggage to the wrong room earlier too.”

She watches as he stands again, chucking the dustpan and brush to one side, and she offers him a sympathetic smile. “It’s our busiest time of year, everyone makes mistakes. I forgot to fold the toilet paper into a point in the Royal Suite earlier, and Mrs. Garland gave me a right earful.”

He tugs awkwardly at the bottom of his bellboy uniform, his mouth turned downwards, as is his gaze. “Yeah…but…I’m gonna be drafted next year. If I can’t get this job right, how am I gonna manage to defend our country? I’m useless.”

Her brows pinch together in concern, stepping forward to gently cup Billy’s cheek. It’s soft and warm against her palm, growing warmer still beneath her touch. “Oi, don’t talk like that. You’re doing a fine job. And you’re so brave, I know I’ll feel safer having you protecting us all.”

His blue eyes flit up to meet hers, wide and filled with uncertainty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Billy, I think you’re wonderful.”

He huffs a soft chuckle, turning pink as he pulls away slightly, lips pressed into a tight smile. “I dunno about that…”

“Well, I do,” she reaches into her apron pocket, pulling out the mistletoe she’s kept stashed there since their first kiss. “See? I’ve been saving this in the hopes we’d use it again.”

Billy visibly softens, shoulders pulling away from his ears, and he steps towards her, hands gripping her waist as he presses his lips to hers. It’s a slow, soft, lingering kiss that they hold for a few moments, before he reluctantly breaks away. It sets her pulse racing and she wraps both her arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Anyone could walk in,” he whispers, his eyes searching her face uncertainly.

“They won’t though. They’re all busy.”

She kisses him again, and this time they are both more eager as he backs her up against the sink. She smiles into it, the mistletoe she’d been holding absentmindedly falling from her fingers and onto the floor behind them.

His excitement grows more apparent as he presses against her, and she drops an arm down between them to palm at him through his grey trousers.

He groans, pressing his forehead against hers. “We shouldn’t…”

“But you want to?”

“God…yes…yes!”

His voice is a strained whisper, causing excitement to flutter hotly in her lower belly. She uses both hands to unbuckle his belt, before unzipping his trousers and snaking her fingers into his underwear to wrap around his hardened length.

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. Though she’d felt it as he’d ground against her the first time they’d kissed, it’s another thing entirely to have her hand on it. Billy is impressively well endowed.

“So big,” she coos, her thumb swiping over the wetness that’s gathered at the tip.

His head falls against her shoulder with a gasp, and his grip on her waist tightens as she slowly strokes her hand up and down, dragging the foreskin along with it, feeling every ridge and vein.

“So good for me, Billy, you’re so good.”

She speeds up her movements and his head tilts back slightly, eyes screwed shut and lips parted, as he breathes raggedly. “Oh god…please…”

Smirking, she leans in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Have you ever been with a woman, Billy?”

“N–no,” he pants, hips canting to chase the movement of her hand.

“Do you think about it when you touch yourself?”

“Yeah…I…I think about you.”

She clenches around nothing at the confession, biting her lip, twisting her wrist slightly as she pumps at his cock.

“Is that what you want?”

He whines slightly, nodding and pulling her closer, a strand of his gelled hair falling forward against his forehead. “Mmmm…I want you.”

“Such a good boy,” she purrs. “Perhaps if you ask nicely then that’s what you’ll get for Christmas.”

She feels his stomach muscles tense, a grunt escaping him as he pulsates in her palm, coating her knuckles in hot, sticky spend.

Withdrawing her hand, she licks it from her fingers, the taste slightly salty, and hums in satisfaction.

He stares at her, chest heaving and eyes wide, transfixed by the sight.

“Are you real?” He asks breathlessly.

She giggles, brushing his stray strand of hair back into place. “If you do a good job for the rest of this evening, perhaps I’ll let you find out.”

#billy taylor x reader #ewan mitchell #billy taylor #billy taylor x you #billy taylor x y/n #billy taylor imagine #billy taylor smut #billy taylor the halcyon #the halcyon billy taylor #billy taylor fan fiction #billy taylor fanfiction #billy taylor fanfic #billy taylor fan fic #the halcyon #the halcyon fan fiction #the halcyon fanfiction #the halcyon fan fic #the halcyon fanfic

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bonefall · 1 year ago

Text

Better Bones AU Masterpost

Last Update: 8/23/23, Version 1.0

"What is the Better Bones AU?"

I'm so glad you asked, convenient question-speaker!

Better Bones (BB) is a full-series rewrite project that seeks to have a more conclusive stance on anti-authoritarianism, revamp the bonds and beliefs of individual characters to make more interesting drama and politics, and overhaul the progression of morality and history throughout the timeline to make the society of the Clans into a living, changing culture.

To do that, we've got 5 goals;

Fix the tangled family tree and give it clearer rules, expanding on kinship between cats while not neglecting friendships

Make the environment accurate to northwestern England, including education on how different biomes are managed and lists of local flora and fauna, to understand how environment has impacted Clan culture.

Build out technology by giving the Clans tool use and food preparation, additional traditions and customs, their own language, and medicinal treatment guides from sniffles up to HRT.

Change the themes of canon by addressing its problematic elements, giving the cats consistent politics and making the narrative conclusively anti-authoritarian.

Be cool as fuck, with wilder deaths, more clanborn villains, bloodier battles, and even MORE complicated innerClan drama

BB is told in notes and outlines, with the "end point" being a full skeleton for the entire series complete with chapter-by-chapter notes, which anyone would be able to write out fully, just as if they were a ghostwriter being handed a draft.

This project is open-source. I encourage you to take any inspiration from this AU that you'd like, or use the Clan culture expansions for your own projects. They don't HAVE to be warriors-related, we have a few folks who like to apply parts of this project to Rainworld! Go bananas.

I only ask that you don't steal any drawn art (as seen in the fanart, character summaries, and culture expansions) to pass it off as your own. Please respect the contributions of these artists.

"Boy howdy! Where do I start?"

WOWZERS another perfectly timed question I'm proud of you

HISTORY LESSON. This is a "brief" summary of the ENTIRE history of BB, breaking down each block of history into Periods, divided into Eras. It sprawls from the founding to the most recently completed arc. NOTE: BB does not cover arcs until they are complete. ASC has not been completed at the time of this post.

Character Summaries Every character gets a redesign and a summary, covering who they are, their role in the story, and their connections to everyone around them. NOTE: You are encouraged to put your own spin on the designs if you'd like! I do not design with genetic accuracy or MAP-friendliness in mind, so you have my blessing to alter them or request a modification for an animation.

Clan Culture Expansions Crafts, Herb Guides, the flora and fauna they encounter on a regular basis, and the Clanmew conlanguage is all in here.

Family Tree Overhauls This is almost done i swear

Fragment Bin This is where I'm going to eventually be putting everything still "WIP" material. I call these "fragments" because the full story isn't planned yet, but I talk about the little 'pieces' that I want to shuffle around. If you're new around here, basically I just sorta babble about a wishlist and then work through it with ask/reply suggestions.

FAQ I'll need this too at some point im sure

#better bones au #clan culture #Better bones au masterpost #hOKAY that should be fine as a master-masterpost for now and i can make the Fragment Bin without being worried it's too messy #ADHD is like living with a bridge troll in your mind who makes dumb rules and your whole life becomes a game to outsmart it

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year ago

Text

nighttime hauntings

summary:

(ao3 link)

(4,317 words)

heyy! happy halloween! as a gift have my personal little silly thing that i had a bunch of fun writing, don't question the worldbuilding too much! (you want to reblog this soooo bad and leave me nice little comments in the tags, soo bad <3)

The tarmac is cool beneath his feet – well, paws? They're paws right now, but they're feet a majority of the time. And ‘feet’ refers to anything you stand on, probably, so till feet…just paw-shaped right now – as he waits patiently. Maybe a little impatiently, hopping from one foot to the other, claws clacking against the cool ground.

The bell jingles and he jerks his head up. He almost smiles, before remembering that such an expression is truly horrifying when he’s like this – Scott had made sure to tell him as such when Jimmy last did it to him, and the siren usually prefers to coat his words in much more honey. The insult wasn’t even thinly veiled, it was just an insult.

His tail begins wagging, almost on its own, as the person he was waiting for steps out onto the darkened street.

He lets out a small bark as greeting, watching as his friend looks up, before smiling at him as well. He stops to check the road before bounding across, skidding to a stop at Tango’s feet. The barista is still smiling, that oddly restrained smile that only just shows a peek of his teeth.

“Hey, buddy,” Tango crouches down, reaching out a hand to stroke along the top of Jimmy’s head. “I’ve only got a few things for you today, but I'm sure it’s more than enough.”

Jimmy can’t respond to him right now, but he hopes the wagging of his tail is enough to communicate that even the smallest of scraps are always enough for him; as long as Tango is the one bearing those scraps, he’ll happily take whatever is given to him.

He takes the piece of food – some kind of croissant? He’s not sure what exactly it is, but it’s tasty, even after sitting on a shelf for most of the day – carefully between his teeth, making sure not to accidentally nip Tango. He’d never forgive himself if he did that, even went so far as to refuse taking food from Tango’s hand for the first few months of their little arrangement.

Tango smiles down at him as he finishes chewing, before standing up straight. The small box the scraps came in is neatly folded into a cardboard square and disposed of in the nearest bin they pass by.

Tango walks quite briskly, as though he has somewhere to be. He doesn’t, Jimmy knows. Not in a weird way! Or a creepy one! He just never leaves the house after Jimmy walks him home, choosing to stay inside. He doesn’t think Tango has very many friends, otherwise he wouldn’t be choosing to take the closing shift at a café that operates on disgustingly early and late hours. He would probably also be leaving his house between shifts.

Again, not in a creepy way! Jimmy is just slightly worried about Tango…they may have only had a few conversations in passing when Jimmy has chosen to visit the café as a human-shaped patron, but he likes to think he has a pretty good feel for the man next to him.

Tango’s hand rests on his head as they wait to cross the road, the flickering orange lamp only briefly illuminating the zebra crossing. Jimmy sits dutifully at his side, scanning the darker corners that Tango wouldn’t be able to see into with his subpar night vision.

Only when Tango lifts his hand from Jimmy’s head does he begin to move again, trotting at his heels.

It’s only a short walk to Tango’s apartment building, but it’s a rather dark one. Tango chooses to take more risks than he really should, crossing through darkened alleyways with little fear. The absolute lack of self-preservation has Jimmy’s heart going a mile a minute, jumping in his chest at every flickering shadow or small sound.

He growls at a rat that startled him, an entirely embarrassing encounter that has Tango cooing over him and stroking his ears; he feels hot under his fur, mortification sliding heavy down his spine as he resists the urge to hide his face. He’s only lucky he can’t blush like this, or any blush he would have is hidden beneath a thick layer of fur.

And, as always, the moment of parting arrives with the looming of Tango’s building.

He can’t help the way he slows his steps as they approach, mourning the end of their small journey for the evening. It would be far more convenient to start an actual conversation with Tango, either inside of his workplace or outside of it, the way his brothers have been telling him to. But he’s far more comfortable with everything as it is right now, and these small walks don't give him the opportunity to ruin everything with a blurted sentence that should have stayed internal.

A hand lands on his head, its weight comforting and familiar.

“See you soon,” Tango gives him that same odd smile, lips barely pulling back from his teeth. “Stay safe, alright? I’d be sad if my little buddy stopped showing up to greet me.”

Jimmy would equally be upset if he was no longer able to accompany Tango on his walks home. The city is dangerous at night, especially with all the creatures living within a small radius of each other. Jimmy can name three different vampires that live within a mile of Tango’s home. And those are only the ones he knows. Goodness knows what would happen if Tango chose to walk home on his own down those dark and disgusting alleyways.

Jimmy makes a small noise, ears drooping slightly as he presses his head forward for a final goodbye. The smell of coffee and sugar invades his senses briefly before he’s pulling away again, watching Tango let himself into his building.

Only when he sees the door click shut behind Tango and automatically lock does he turn to leave, trotting down a different alleyway in order to return to his own home for the evening.

=== === ===

Tango’s not entirely sure when the semi-regular routine began. Only that the habit is well-worn at this point, meaning it’s been at least two months. It takes two months to form a habit, apparently, though some people do it quicker than that. He, however, is a creature of habit and takes a while to adjust his routine.

Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he finds that he’s already packed away several scraps, and bits of food that would go to waste at the end of the day otherwise, into a takeaway container, ready to give to his nightly companion.

He locks everything up inside first. He’s not going to rush out the door and become an incompetent employee just to go and see his furry friend quicker. Even if said furry friend is incredibly cute and really quite endearing, especially when he does the impatient little tippy-taps with his paws as he waits outside.

A normal person wouldn’t be able to pick up on such a tiny sound, but Tango strains his ears as he does one final sweep of the café, listening for the almost inaudible sound of claws clacking against the tarmac.

He smiles a little when he hears it, making his way towards the door, container tucked carefully beneath his arm. The keys jangle as he takes them out to lock the door, turning around in the small porch and locking the doorway.

He gives the handle a small test, finding that it resists, before finally turning to greet his friend.

“Hello, hello. Yes, yes, I'm sorry,” he crouches down to be more on the dog’s level, smiling at it as he reaches out to give it a quick pat on the head. “I didn’t mean to be so late, but, ugh, Tiffany- I've told you about Tiffany before, right?” The dog tilts its head to the side, though its ears perk forward as Tango speaks.

Tango knows full well that he’s currently having a conversation with a dog, but he can’t help it! He works the closing shift on his own most of the time, none of his co-workers choosing to stay past six p.m., when it starts to get a little bit too dark, or too late at night. Most of them are students at the local university, and they all have early lectures. Tango doesn’t mind taking the later shifts – much prefers taking them, actually, seeing as he doesn’t have to lug his stupidly old and stupidly heavy umbrella around with him– especially not when it helps out those he works with so much.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods along like the dog responded to his earlier question. “Of course I've told you about Tiffany before, she’s, honestly, sorry for what I'm about to say, but she’s such a bitch. She came in, five minutes before closing. I’d been cleaning all the tables ready for closing and begun to stack the chairs, and she comes in and is all like, oh, so sorry darling,” he drags the darling out, “yeah. She says it just like that- and she comes in so sorry darling, but I've just got to have this coffee right now. You’d understand wouldn’t you? Working so late all the time, ugh, it must be so hard. Like, God, yeah, imagine not living off your husband’s money, Tiffany – I know far too much about this woman’s life, like, no, I am being paid minimum wage to sit and listen to you complain about your third husband’s spending habits, I don't actually care.”

He huffs out an exasperated breath, sagging forward momentarily. Still crouching right in front of the dog means he leans forward and directly into the dog, which does a rather valiant attempt to keep him upright.

“Ugh, sorry, I don't mean to complain. You're here for the scraps, I'm sure,” he pulls the box out from beneath his arm, setting it on his lap as he begins opening it, folding the cardboard edges away from each other. The dog whines, scraping its foot against his leg, before looking up at him with its incredibly sad and watery eyes.

He’s not actually sure what kind of dog it is. When he’d first been approached by it, he’d been taking the waste food out to the bins behind the café. He was certain he was about to be attacked by a rabid wolf, or something. As far as he knows, the only werewolves currently living in the city is a tiny pack of three, and all of them live on the opposite side of the city to him. But in that moment he’d been certain that he was going to be mauled to death by another creature of the night.

Instead, the hulking beast of an animal had sat down at his feet and given him the saddest little look ever, eyes large and watering until Tango had offered up a rather squashed croissant to it.

After that small encounter, he’d tried to find out what kind of dog it was, searching for it first online, and then resorting to a dog breeds guide at the nearby library, in the hopes that he might find what kind of dog was walking him home most weeks.

The most he’d been able to conclude was that it was probably at least half-wolf, though the other parent is unknown. Dog and wolf – both dolf and wog had sounded incredibly dumb, and the dog looks more like an overgrown, slightly shaggier family golden retriever than a wolf.

And it still doesn’t have a name.

He offers out the half-croissant he’d saved for it today, watching as it takes the treat carefully from his hand. He’s fed a few street dogs before, though none of them this consistently, and all the street dogs in the past had bitten at his fingers as they snatched the treat from him, desperate and starving, and willing to rip out someone’s throat to make sure they got the treat.

The delicacy with which this dog takes the treat only reinforces the idea that this dog was a family pet, one that was left behind when it only continued growing and the family could no longer cope with having such a large dog.

It licks his fingers for the last crumbs of the croissant before pulling back and looking at him with those same sad eyes.

“On better topics,” he begins, watching how the dog perks up at the sound of his voice. He almost wishes it were smaller, so he could at least try to sneak it into his apartment. “The cute guy came back today,” he strokes a hand absently over the dog’s head as he talks, “I still didn’t manage to get his name, oh, it’s so embarrassing. Joe – co-worker Joe, Joe that we like – makes fun of me for it every time, says it makes me incapable at my job the moment he walks in. I just can’t help it! He always sits at the window, and gets the same thing every single time. I mean, I get the same thing every time, I can respect that, but I still don't have his name.” He buries his face in his arms, ceasing the absent pets he was giving the dog. “Man, it’s embarrassing. I don't even know his name and he’s a regular. He comes in nearly every evening, and just sits in the window, perfectly aligned with the last bits of sunlight in order to make his hair turn golden.”

A wet nose presses against his arm, before an entire head forces its way through his crossed arms. He pulls back with a short laugh, pushing the dog backwards, hands on its chest.

“Ugh, just ignore me. I'm tired,” he sighs, hauling himself to his feet. “I forgot to have something to eat before I left for work, and now I'm starving.” The dog continues to look up at him as he walks, eyes fixed on him, wet and glittering under the occasional street lights. Despite it’s overall air of patheticness, it seems to be doing rather well for itself. It’s certainly not skinny, despite living right on the edges of the city, and it hasn’t been attacked by one of Tango’s hungrier neighbours yet.

…Though, that might be more to do with Tango than sheer luck.

He’s one of the older vampires in this part of the city, and most of the other ones are content to stay out of his way as long as he stays out of theirs. And he may have been rather unsubtle in his fondness for this particular dog, even going so far as to mark him with a small sigil – one only visible to other vampires, letting them know that they should keep their hands off. The sigil is small and unnoticeable when he doesn’t look for it, fading into background noise.

To other vampires, though, it’s like a blaring light that screams at them to stay away or face his wrath. A rather effective deterrent, if he may say so himself.

He crosses into the shadowed alleyways quickly, feeling far more relaxed here than under the pools of lamplight. The dog, however, presses closer to his legs worriedly, a low whine building in the back of its throat for the first few seconds, before cutting off rather abruptly.

Tango hums to himself, reaching down to pat the dog on its head, stroking a hand over the unruly tufts there in an attempt to smooth them down.

He moves quicker through the dark alleyways. The dog doesn’t like walking through them, but it’s far quicker than taking the main streets, even if these are darker and a little more…disgusting. Still, the dog seems happier when they finally emerge from the twisting maze of brick and crawling moss, wagging its tail again and straying a little further from his side.

Still, he feels more than a little bad when he turns to face it on his doorstep, crouching down again to bid it goodbye.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?” The dog tilts its head at the exact same time he does, looking even sadder than it had when he first stepped out the café. It would almost be worth it, getting kicked out of his apartment, just to smuggle the dog inside for an evening. “And I’ll have something better than half a croissant next time, I swear.”

The dog wags its tail twice before stopping again, watching from its spot as Tango backs up towards his apartment building. He gives it one last wave before he pushes through the doors, pulling it shut behind himself.

When he glances back through the glass, the dog is already gone.

=== === ===

Jimmy waited patiently, tail curled neatly around his paws as he watches the door carefully. There’s been movement inside for the past few minutes, despite the closed sign already being flipped. Meaning its almost time for Tango to emerge from the darkness and come greet him with a smile.

He’s been worried about Tango recently. His apparent lack of friends aside, he’s been looking paler than before, almost sick with it, and he’d been stumbling yesterday when Jimmy went in for his usual coffee. He wasn’t able to get close enough to check on him then, standing at the respectable distance that humans normally choose to keep between themselves. But now, shifted and covered in a layer of fur, it’s far more acceptable for him to get that close.

He perks up at the sound of jangling keys, hopping to his feet and crossing the road before the door even finishes closing.

Only to skid to a halt before he can reach the person- because it’s just a person, not Tango.

He begins backing away, only to be caught in the act as the person turns around to face him. Another co-worker, one that Jimmy vaguely recognises as Joe, both from his visits to the café and Tango’s stories about his day.

“Heya there,” Joe waves to him, wiggling his fingers slightly at the end. “Didn’t think you’d be here tonight, looking for your buddy?”

Jimmy doesn’t make any response that would indicate understanding, simply continuing to stare up at Joe. He doesn’t know what to make of Joe, something uneasy prickling along his spine as he stares up at him. He’d never been able to get a read on the guy, but something about him just made Jimmy feel…off. Uneasy. Not unsafe, never unsafe, but healthily wary.

“Aw, well, he’s out sick today. He’s not been looking good recently, so you might not be seeing him for a bit.” Joe locks the door as he talks, turning his head over his shoulder to face Jimmy. He’s still smiling, oddly enough. “I'm sure he’ll be back, right as rain, soon enough! Nothing keeps Tango down for long. Nothing can keep Tango down for long,” Joe laughs. Then stops laughing nearly as quickly as he had begun. “You’d better run along, I've got no scraps for you tonight. Not that you’d take them from me, I don't think.”

Joe watches him for a moment longer, before making a gentle shooing motion.

Jimmy feels as though he's been broken from a trance, abruptly backing up before turning away, beginning a slow trot away from the café as he thinks. He still doesn’t feel good around Joe, and that right there was creepily similar to the time when Scott wanted to show him what a siren could really do with their voice. But there was no urge to offer himself up to the man, only a need to stay and listen to whatever it was he had to say.

Whatever Joe is, Jimmy has no interest in finding out.

Disappointed in how his evening has turned out, he slips into the forest rather than making the trip back across the city. He’s not looking to be teased by his brothers about this when he’s not even managed to see Tango. He’d much rather kill a rabbit, or something.

Or, he turns his head, the iron tang of blood filling his nose, perhaps he doesn’t even need to hunt down an entire animal. There seems to be some kind of injured creature out here that would be far easier to catch than the effort required for digging into a burrow.

He follows the scent deeper into the forest, only pausing to make sure he orients himself correctly and can find his way back to the city later.

The path zig-zags, as though the prey was desperately blundering its way through the undergrowth in its panic. Several leaves are dotted with crimson beads of blood, and the trail is laughably easy to follow. He keeps his nose to the ground anyway, snuffling along the small path of broken twigs and crushed underbrush.

A snapping twig has his ears pricking forward, a pained sound following afterwards.

He leaps forward, crashing through the bush ahead of him and ignoring the thorns that scrape along his sides as he lands. He almost slips on the leaves, skidding a little further than he had expected to.

The scent of blood is incredibly strong here, and it only takes him looking up to realise why.

Tango leans against the tree, another body beneath his own a dark shape. The pained sounds are coming from said body, though Tango seems to be ignoring them entirely, in favour of- in favour of…

There’s a wet sound as Tango pulls away from the person, turning to peer over his shoulder with squinted eyes. Those squinted eyes then rather quickly widen- and it’s the first time that Jimmy notices the red sheen they have to them, almost bright enough to glow.

What catches most of his attention, though, is the blood dripping down his chin, staining most of his lower face with it.

His heart in his throat and feeling as though he’s about to be sick from stress, he skitters back when Tango turns fully to face him. Somehow, he’s managed to not get any blood on his clothes.

He bursts back into a human, clothes settling heavily over him as he staggers to his feet, reeling backwards. “Holy shit!”

“Holy- what the hell!” Tango leaps to his feet as well, wide eyes now even wider. “You're- what!”

“You're a vampire!” He shouts back, confused and also more than annoyed with himself. “What- how didn’t I know? How the hell did you do so well at hiding it?”

“You- I didn’t know that you were a werewolf! Weredog- whatever!”

“I'm a werewolf,” he snaps back. “Not a dog.”

“You sure look like a dog,” Tango plants his hands on his hips, far too confident for someone that looks like he got dunked into a can of red paint. “A big dog, sure, but still a dog.”

“I'm a wolf, thanks,” he bristles. “And you're a vampire! You- is that guy gonna be okay?”

Said guy makes another pained sound.

“He’ll be fine,” Tango says. His voice is more than a little dismissive, only sparing a singular backwards glance over his shoulder. “He’ll just think he had a little too much to drink and ended up somewhere he doesn’t remember going.”

“And he’ll be fine?”

“He might need to eat a little more, replenish his blood. I don't know, man, I'm not a doctor.”

“If you're regularly draining people of their blood, then you need to be a little more careful.”

“I don't- this isn’t a normal thing,” Tango sighs. “I just haven’t been able to make time for the past few weeks so I was…a little more hungry than usual. This is a worst-case scenario.”

“Just, ugh, how didn’t I know?”

“How did neither of us know?” Tango turns the question back around. “God, we must be some pretty tremendous idiots to not have realised. C’mon, don't I smell like blood to your super sensitive nose?”

“No?” He blinks, “You smell like coffee, and sugar.”

“Oh, uh, alright,” Tango’s brows furrow together. “Mind if I get your name, by the way? You kept avoiding me at the café when I tried to ask. Makes a little more sense now, I guess.”

“I, yeah? I'm Jimmy, nice to meet you?” He groans, “This is weird as hell. You're covered in blood and I'm telling you my name.”

“Hey, hey, I've been trying to get that name for a while now.” Tango wags a finger at him, “Don't be weird just ‘cause this is weird- could be weirder, let me tell you.”

“Uh-huh, how could it be weirder?”

“I could ask you on a date now rather than tomorrow,” Tango smiles at him, small fangs poking over his lips as he watches. Waiting for a response. “It wouldn’t be to a café, for obvious reasons, but there’s a nice museum nearby that-”

“You want to ask me on a date?”

“…Yeah?”

“I just, ugh, why? I was going to ask you on a date months ago and decided against it!”

“Aw, you shoulda asked me,” Tango frowns. “There was an even better museum exhibit a few months ago.”

Jimmy opens his mouth to say something, but just starts laughing instead. He can see Tango watching him, from behind the tears forming in his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to stop laughing for another while yet.

“You're an idiot,” he manages between laughing.

“In a good way, or…?”

“Yeah, sure, in a good way.” He sighs, “What the hell, yeah, I’ll go on that date with you.”

“Wait, really?” Tango seems to light up, completely ignoring the blood on his face and the guy slumped over behind him. “Oh, how would you feel about dinner afterwards? On me, I swear.”

“As long as I'm not dessert,” he laughs.

Tango giggles alongside him, “Only if you offer, sweetheart.”

#juno.writes #solidaritek #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #trafficshipping #life series #traffic smp #traffic series #tango tek #team rancher #solidarity gaming #trafficfic

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angryschnauzer · 1 year ago

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I realised two months have gone by since i last updated you all, i'm not even sure if anyone is interested anymore. I know i haven't been on much, perhaps sporadically coming on and mindlessly reblogging Henry stuff just for a little escape, but its intermittent at best. I had hoped to be back to writing by now, but life is still a huge pile of shit.

I'm run ragged trying to pay the bills. My wedding decorations business is halfway between slow and dead; the cost of living crisis means weddings aren't really happening, and if they are most of the items i do people are making themselves. My side gig in ebay flipping is quiet too but at least its trickling by. I don't mention this much as people get a lot of abuse over 'thrift store flippers' (Charity Shop resellers here in the UK), but right now its what's keeping my family fed. I buy clothing for £1 from the stinky dregs bin in a charity shop, wash it, mend it, resell it for £4. I'm not making millions or even thousands. I'm lucky if i'm bringing in £150 a week which barely covers our weekly food shop. Its draining that when i do eventually mention this to my friends they immediately start moaning at me that i'm the one 'ruining' charity shops and why its pushing the prices up. But when i calmly tell them its that or i don't eat they go quiet. I'm not the one pushing a 2nd hand coat for £25 which was only £20 brand new which most high street charity shops are doing. Do i like doing this? No. Do i have to? Yes. Because i sure as ain't cute enough for onlyfans.

But the majority of my time over the last couple of months has been spent caring for our son. He's 8 and has type 1 diabetes, and since school started back in September one little shit in his class has spent every waking moment bullying him. This little shit has been stabbing my son with pencils, poking him in the kidneys with whatever he has to hand, laughing and sneering at him at every opportunity even when he's just walking past. Having the adrenaline and cortisol in my son's bloodstream affects how his insulin works, and he builds up an insulin resistance because of all the other hormones in his bloodstream. I've had so many meetings with the school, and have had to get the board of governors involved because when your 8 year old kid says quietly to you "It would be better if i wasn't alive as then *Little Shit* wouldn't be able to bully me" your heart breaks into pieces.

He needs my support more than anything, so every single other thing has been put by the wayside. And its tough. He acts out at home, messes around with his dinner because he feels he needs to be able to control something, but that in turn messes up insulin dosing so i'm spending half the night dealing with highs and lows for his blood sugars. I get at most 5 hours sleep a night.

I have no more energy left. I'm not eating, because i just can't stomach it. I'm 43 and hitting menopause, but my doctor doesn't want to know because "You just need to loose some weight" (don't get be started on fat bias from the NHS).

So i'm filling my time with volunteering at school so i can be 'around' for my Little Dude. He knows that if he's having an awful day, he will find me in the office sorting through paperwork for our next fundraiser. Its not what i want to be doing, but its what i need to be doing.

One day i hope to get back to my writing. I miss being creative and i hate that i have so many stories part written/published. As the months tick by i actually end up seeing stories written by others that have the same characters/plotlines. This is no-ones fault that two stories exist on the same synopsis, it would just seem that they and I have taken the same inspiration from media at some point. But it makes me scared that if i now publish a story i started 2 years ago, i'll be accused of stealing an idea. I don't know what to do. So i just leave my WIP folder abandoned.

For everyone that has stayed with me thank you. For those that have moved onto pastures new, i wish you well and hold no malice.

I do love you all

Mama Schnauz

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i-eat-worlds · 5 months ago

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Starcross Part 6

We’re Back to the present day! This chapter is early because I’ll be going to do nerd shit in the woods for the weekend

Content: vomiting/emeto, food mentions, fear of punishent, conditioned whumpee, comfort

Free Space, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763 Ziar sat in the shower, letting the sonic waves wash over her. The vibrations were soothing, though not like warm water would’ve been. She was saving her water ration for Kim, since they’d need a bath and she doubted they’d be able to shower on their own. Stasis was exhausting, and their ankle couldn't be comfortable to stand on.

Sighing, she reached out her hand to turn off the shower. As much as she wanted to stay, there was stuff to do. The prospect of a highly caffeinated beverage was starting to sound more appealing. She wrapped a towel around her waist then stepped out of the shower, using the railings to support herself until she could reach her crutches.

The showers and the berths had the advantage of being close, just a couple meters across the hallway, and Ziar gratefully collapsed back into the mattress. It was tempting to let her eyes close and drift off, but she forced herself to stay awake.

After a couple minutes of blissful laying down, she heaved herself back up. She needed to redress the bite wound and replace the dermafibran around her connector. Osteomyelitis was not all it was cracked up to be. When they landed, she’d needed to go out and buy more. Just another thing for the list.

Reaching under the bed, she pulled out the small box of wound care supplies she kept underneath for when she was too tired or sore to get to the infirmary. She pulled the latch open and pulled out what she’d need, grabbing the DF pack and some dressings.

Carefully, she peeled off the bandage on her upper arm. The double-crescent shaped wound was looking better than it had last night, with the bleeding stopped and wiped away. It only produced a dull throb now, and was clear of any pus or redness. And really, what more could she ask for?

She pressed another bandage over it, feeling the cold tissue growth solution it was impregnated with fill the wound. After crumpling up the trash and tossing it into the bin, she reached for the drape so she could take care of the stump. Before she could get it unfolded, her communicator buzzed with Oka’s ringtone.

This was gonna be good.

“What’cha need?”

*** The weapon had tried to eat the food. It really had.

Oka had been so nice, letting it eat real food, people food, instead of bland slurries and nutritive bricks with the texture of concrete.

Previously, it had only ever been fed people food as a treat. A scrap off the table for breaking a course record. This was so much more than that.

The meat was smokey and salty, and the fruit was sweet but also a little bit tart. This was already a lot, but the bread was fluffy and soft. Despite it being relatively small in quantity, it sat heavy in their stomach, like a bowling ball.

Just as it had opened its mouth to thank them, its stomach rolled and squeezed. Its eyes went wide as every piece of food it had just eaten came back up.

No, no, no!

Vomit splattered all over the blanket that they’d given it, chunks of meat and half-digested fruit still visible. Its throat was on fire, acid burning at the back of its mouth, as it stared in horror at the mess it had made.

In its peripheral vision, it could see Oka moving around it, and braced itself for the blow. They had provided with food, real food, good food, and it had made a mess. It had been trained to have more self control than that, to be better. It could already feel the acid burns on its hands from having to scrub the floor until it could see its face in it.

Would it even be able to stand on its ankle?

A green bag with a plastic rim appeared in front of it. “Here, use this.” They didn’t sound angry or annoyed. They must’ve been the type who enjoyed meeting it out, then. Just great.

The blanket was pulled away from their legs, and even though Ziar had given it some sort of loose fitting tunic to cover it up, it still felt entirely exposed. Goosebumps raised on its skin.“I’ll get you something clean.”

It swallowed, gripping the bag tightly as Oka dug through a cabinet. When its stomach turned again, the vomit thankfully landed in the bag. The contents were mostly bile; there wasn’t much left in its stomach for it to throw up.

Another blanket was tossed over its legs, shielding them from the cool air. “Do you want some water?”

Their words washed over it as it tried to get its mouth to work. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

The sound of the sink felt a thousand times louder than it probably was as they filled up a small cup. Oka carefully nestled the cup in between its shaking hands. It was half full, probably in an effort to conserve water. “Take small sips, alright. I don’t want to upset your stomach more.”

It obeyed, taking small sips while they watched it. Maybe they were waiting for a functionality report? Then it hit them. It needed to clean up its mess. They wanted to see if it would be responsible and solve its own problems. They didn’t want an automaton with no thoughts. It needed to make itself useful.

The blanket was resting in a bright orange bag on the sink. It finished the last of the water so that it wouldn’t spill, then pulled the blanket away from it. While the sink wasn’t exactly close, it could make it, bad ankle notwithstanding. It pushed its legs over the edge of the bed.

It needed to be useful.

“Kim-” Oka said, stepping forward, but it was too late.

It pushed off the bed, letting its uninjured foot hit the oor st. Assuming success, it took another step.

The moment its second foot contacted the oor it crumbled, letting out a yelp as it came crashing down. Pain pulsed up its leg, and it couldn't help the tears that well up in its eyes. It knew that it wouldn’t be able to get back up.

All it did was make things worse.

Oka squatted down next to it. “It’s okay,” they said, reaching out a hand and placing it on its shoulder.

It shuddered, and they pulled their hand away. “It was-Unit KM-4682 was going to clean its…its…” it choked out, body racked by sobs.

“You don’t need to do that, aza.” It wasn’t familiar with that word. It probably meant “stupid,” if it had to guess.

All it could do was cry harder. It was falling apart, on the floor, like a fucking baby. It was weak and useless and it was a small wonder that it had been kept alive as long as it had. Maybe they were right to kill it, to remove its useless body from the universe.

“You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” A blanket settled over its shoulders.

It pulled the edges closer, wrapping itself tighter. Oka smiled at it gently. “It’s alright, aza. I’m going to call Ziar so we can get you back up on the table, alright. You just stay still.”

It nodded. An order. Something it could do without trying to guess if it was right. Something easy.

“You’re safe now. We’re not going to hurt you,” they repeated.

It wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. The weapon had always been safe, from everything but its own failures. And maybe things could be painful, maybe punishments and corrections weren’t fun, but it had never been hurt.

Still, Oka seemed to think that what was happening to it now was better. It bowed its head in respect. “Thank you, sir.”

Taglist: @whump-snob @whump-kia @itsoundslikeafury @blackberry-bloody @snakebites-and-ink

@whumpacabra @cepheusgalaxy @softvampirewhump @my-little-versaille @pigeonwhumps

@whumped-by-glitter @snaillamp @rainydaywhump @platysaurus @whumpy-daydreams

@whiskygoldwings @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @rainbowsandwhumperflies @risk606 @starfields08000

#worlds babbles #whump #vomiting #emeto tw #food mention #fear of punishment #conditioned whumpee #comfort #whump writing

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anarchic-miscellany · 8 months ago

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Reading "One Piece" for the first time, Part 5: So, pretty early on (about the time a murder clown nuked a village) I realised that escalation was basically a crapshoot in this series, and honestly one of its charms thus far. Now the Idiot, the Himbo, the Cartographer with a Brain Cell and Meme in Progress Usopp are chilling at this floating fish restaurant. The Giga Chad Chef they met who kicked an entitled Karen in the face has now given free food to a pirate in need, because he's a pretty stand up guy. Nice touch honestly. But now a man made of guns has arrived and declared war on the restaurant because he wants the logbook of the elderly chef who runs it (and has a pegleg, honestly I am surprised at the restraint in waiting this long for a peg leg on the author's part, though I am surprised also that it doesn't have a shotgun in it or an interdimensional portal to the food dimension, or something) so he can cross "The Grand Line" after a fuck load of his crew got their shit pushed in out there. Naturally the restaurant and old man want him to shove it, so a fight ensues. I like the wholesome army of chefs who cannot work elsewhere and will defend this place until death, it's becoming a theme. This villain is kind of meh, especially after the Cat Guy in the last volume, and he keeps doing that thing of shooting his own dudes in the face which... okay man, great tactic. Still, we get to see the Giga Chad (I think he's going to be my favourite) roundhouse spiral kick a bunch of dudes and that's honestly kind of cool. The Cartographer with a Brain Cell has pissed off with their ship and loot, which I should really have seen coming, but in my defence I was distracted by the chef pirate battle and the arrival of... I'll get to you... I'm looking forward to them confronting her and getting their stuff back, I mean: they literally only just got this thing! Anyway, the fight is fun, kinetic, vast, frantic, it's the first one which really busts free and does its own thing and isn't merely "Dragon Ball Z" showdowns (RIP Toriyama, King) between two guys in fields. But then this fucking guy arrives. "Dracule Mihawk", the man who cuts a ship in half. You can tell this series was started in the 90s, because he is cringe incarnate, he is the edgelord anime stereotype of a badass, spoken of like a whispering nightmare of death upon the wind. And honestly I find him super dull, super cliched and just not worth my time at all. Naturally he ends up stabbing the Himbo with only a small dagger and is going to be his nemesis for the series. I appreciate them bringing in a character who will be a recurring, soon to overcome villain, but for fuck's sake, can it be literally anyone else? I'll take that Morgan guy over him. I'll take the fucking Lion Tamer. But no, we get this towering inferno of cringe. Also, Usopp doesn't really have anything to do here, shame. Anyway, now they're battling a man made of bin lids who calls himself "Pearl". Sure.

#One Piece #monkey d. luffy #Usopp #Meme in Progress #Roronoa Zoro #Nami #Sanji #Vinsmoke Sanji #Himbo #Giga Chad #Manga #Reading One Piece for the First Time

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bluestar22x · 19 days ago

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Finding Eden: Chapter 5

Summary: You and Zach seek shelter and realize your feelings

Pairing: Zach Wellison x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Pining, romantic revelations, smut (unprotected/pull-out method), mentions of cum, fluff, fowl language

Word Count: 4,250(ish)

Author's Note: This took me longer to write than I wanted it to, but I'm so excited about this chapter for obvious reasons.

xxx

You thought it was a mirage at first, the distant cabin a brown blob that appeared and disappeared with the snow that was being wildly blown every which way by the whirling wind.

Caught in a snowstorm for days, despite the winter gear you'd collected over the last few weeks, you and Zach were unbearably cold and starving, the seasonal weather making it more and more difficult for you to keep comfortable and find enough food.

Athena fared better than either of you did in the elements, but inside the tent, in the middle of the night, you could hear her stomach rumbling just as loudly as yours was.

Signs of human civilization, or what was once, had been few and far in between since December began, and it only got worst as you entered the pristine wilderness along the British Columbia/Yukon border.

When you realized the cabin wasn't in your head you grabbed Zach's arm by the elbow and pointed it out. He was as relieved as you were to find it, but apprehensive. You wouldn't be able to stay long if you couldn't find food in the area or the cabin itself.

"At least we'll have shelter from the storm," you said as you approached the front door.

"At least," he agreed, twisting the handle.

The door didn't budge.

"It's locked."

Zach took a knife out of his pack and shattered its window without hesitance.

"Hopefully there's some nails around to help repair that," you commented.

"It was that or spend another night freezing outside," Zach told you as he walked into the cabin. "And there's a fireplace."

You barged in, gaping at the fireplace in the center of the decently sized cabin. "Holy shit! Now I'm convinced I'm dreaming."

Zach chuckled. "Want me to pinch you?"

"You'd better not," you warned, wandering around the place to examine the rest of the interior.

The cabin had a three room set up, the main room acting as a kitchen and living room combined, the second smaller room a bedroom with one twin bed, and a tiny bathroom that was squeezed between them. It wasn't anything to brag about, but it was much better than the tent.

"Looks like we can stay a while," Zach declared over his shoulder and you turned to join him in the kitchen, finding him standing by the cooking stove, pantry open. Over two dozen cans of a variety of foods were lined up inside.

"Unbelievable," you murmured before breaking out into a grin. "Dibs on the beef stew."

"There's more than one," he pointed out.

"I know."

He huffed. "Fine. I'm not big on it anyway."

He headed for the door and you frowned. "Where are you going?"

"There must be an axe around here somewhere," he replied. "I'm going to collect some wood and get a fire going so we don't have to eat cold food. Could cover the broken window with some of the pieces."

You nodded. "I'll see what else I can find in here while you do that."

He tipped his head back at you and glanced down at Athena, who was still standing on the doormat, shaking lingering snow off her body. "Stay here. Blijf."

She woofed quietly and let him by, watching him go just as you did.

Once he'd left, you started rummaging for supplies in the kitchen. There wasn't much besides the cans, some old water bottles and a twelve pack of beer that was probably too old to be any worth drinking. You'd smelled expired beer before. It had been truly awful.

You had better luck with non-kitchen items. There were several throw blankets in a storage bin by the two person couch that was facing the fireplace, medical and grooming supplies of all kinds in the bathroom, and a pocket lighter in the night stand alongside...

A pack of unopened condoms.

You felt your cheeks heat up, not because you were prudish, but rather because your first thought seeing them involved Zach. That he could probably use them.

With who? It's not like he's interested, you reminded yourself for the thousandth time.

You quickly snatched up the lighter and shut the drawer, heading back to the living room to throw yourself down on the couch. It was cold despite being made of fabric, but it was comfortable, well worn in a good way.

You'd have helped Zach outside, but you were wiped out, and what was supposed to be just two minutes of rest on the couch turned into something much longer when you dozed off and only stirred when he reentered the cabin.

"You won't believe what I found outside the shed out back," he said as he stomped snow off his boots at the door.

You rubbed your eyes and stood. "You found multiple axes?"

"Better."

He reached out for the main light switch by the door and flicked it on. To your astonishment the yellow light fixture above you activated.

Zach beamed at the stunned expression that formed on your face. "We have electricity. And running water, as long as the pipes haven't frozen yet."

"How?"

"There's a generator," he told you, some excitement, hope, seeping into his voice. "And there's propane to refill it once it runs out. Enough for most of the winter if we're mindful of how much we use it."

As if to lead by example, he shut the light back off.

"I'll shut it completely once we're all settled in here."

"Are we thinking of staying the whole winter?" you inquired, raising your eyebrows.

He shrugged. "There's a lake out back. Fishing poles in the shed. If I can find some success in ice fishing, maybe. It would delay us, but it would be safer. If Eden exists, it'll be there in the spring."

You nodded. He was right, and you weren't in a rush. Time was one of those few commodities you had, after all.

"Anything else in the bag?"

Zach smiled a little mischievously and pulled an artificial spruce tree out of his pack. It was barely a foot tall and ran on batteries, seeing that he was able to turn on the multi-colored lights without plugging the decoration into the wall. There were only ten lights and they only came in red and green.

"No way!" you laughed. "That is the saddest Christmas tree I've ever seen outside Charlie Brown's! It's kinda cute."

"You mentioned last week that you miss Christmas," Zach said. "I found this in the shed in an insulated storage bin. Figured since we'll be at the cabin through the rest of December, at the very least, why not bring it inside?"

You beamed at him, warmth spreading through your chest at his thoughtfulness. "Thanks. Let's set it over the fireplace?"

"Right in the center of everything," he noted approvingly. He centered the tree on the stone top of the fireplace and stepped back so you could both take in the view.

"Perfect," you declared at the same time as he did, leading you both to glance at each other then laugh off the tense moment.

Tense because you'd both let your eyes wander to each other's lips, and you'd both noticed. There was no question.

You backed away, needing time to absorb the new information you'd just gathered. "I'm gonna go check if the water's working. Cause if it is, I'm showering."

Zach nodded. "I've got to start the fire, so I'll wait. But after I get that going and I stack the extra logs I cut up, it's my turn."

"Won't get argument from me there," you said teasingly as he walked back out, knowing full well you smelled just as bad as he did, though not as bad as Athena.

You ripped your least offensive clothes out of your pack, a navy blue sweater, a pair of jeans, and undergarments, then charged for the bathroom, shutting it quickly behind you. Athena, who had slipped in with you, watched with a curious look on her face as you turned the sinks' handle and jumped for joy when water started flowing out.

It wasn't long before you'd stripped down and stepped into the shower. It was lukewarm at best, but it was running water, and the pressure wasn't even half bad. You took a minute to soak in the shower head spray then hesitantly hurried to shampoo your hair and scrub your body with a proper wash cloth and body wash. It was Old Spice, but you didn't care. It smelled better than you had in a long time. It felt amazing to get that clean again.

While you were rinsing yourself off you even dragged an unsuspecting Athena into the stand up shower and washed her off with some of the shampoo, something she didn't appreciate very much, whining and trying to get away the entire time.

"Big, bad, military dog," you teased as you struggled to keep her in the shower long enough for the water to wash the suds out of her fur. "Who knew you'd be scared of a little water?"

After you both were all set you released her and wiped yourself up with a towel before drying her off as well.

"Don't go rolling in shit tomorrow, okay?" you said sternly. "This is the only towel getting dog fur on it, you hear?"

Athena barked like she understood and you turned away from her to focus on getting dressed and brushing your teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes hidden in the top sink drawer before opening the door back up.

Your eyes immediately found Zach standing by the lit fireplace, observed how he waved his strong hands in front of the flames and you were struck by how handsome he was once more, especially in the orange glow of the flames, even with the scruffy beard he'd been sporting since winter had begun.

You really needed to talk to him soon. Clear things up between you two, even if it was awkward. Knowing he felt something too, having seen the desire in his eyes as he studied your lips, it changed things.

You had to know if he wanted more than friendship with you. If he was interested in taking things to the next level, and if it wouldn't be just a brief physical act. You couldn't be a no strings attached person. You weren't built that way. Either you'd be a couple or you wouldn't be.

It wasn't time to ask though, not yet.

"Your turn."

Zach looked up at you quickly then down at the dejected wet dog at your heels. He smirked. "I see Athena wasn't spared."

"She sleeps with us," you told him. "No way she was escaping it."

"Just glad I didn't have to do it," he said as he passed you to enter the bathroom, his pack in hand.

"You should be grateful," you called over your shoulder. You reached down and scratched the top of Athena's head. "But it was worth it, right, girl? Don't you feel better?"

The dog glanced up at you with an almost incredulous expression on her face.

You chuckled. "Come on, let's go warm up on the couch together."

The shower was more refreshing than Zach could've hoped, remembered, really. The last time he'd used one had been in his trailer back in California, and he'd started to forget what it was like to freshen up indoors rather than in a river or lake.

The warm water running trails down his body relaxed him, let his mind wander. But ever since he'd met you, whenever it did, all he could think about was you.

He finally had his answer, the look in your eyes had been undeniable, but he didn't know what to do with that. It wasn't like he could ask you out on a date. You were already living twenty-four hours a day with each other, even shared the same sleeping quarters. And yet he didn't want to dive straight in for a kiss. He just had to wait for the right opportunity, he figured. Let it all happen organically.

Zach stepped out of the shower and dried off, clawing at his beard after he'd done so.

It was time to shave the damn thing. He'd kept it for wind protection but if they were going to stick around the cabin for a while, and since they had so much supplies on hand because of it, it was no longer useful in his eyes.

He'd let it get too long for the razor though, and the bathroom mirror was missing. He'd have to ask you to trim it with scissors before using one of his razors on it to keep it from dulling. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done him that particular favor, so no big deal, right?

Dressed in the cleanest plaid shirt he had, maroon and white checkered, and blue jeans he exited the bathroom with damp hair he'd yet brushed down and a pair of scissors in his right hand.

He found you sitting on the couch with Athena by your side, sharing what was left of a can of beef stew you'd heated up in the microwave with her, allowing the dog to eat from the bowl once you'd had your share.

"Oh, I see, I can't have the beef stew but the dog can," he teased.

You rolled your eyes at him, but you were smiling. "I left you a bowl of your own on the counter, big baby."

His expression turned grateful. "You didn't have to do that."

You shrugged. "It was a big can. I'm not used to eating portions like that anymore."

Zach knew it was more than that, but didn't press. "Before I get to that, can you trim my beard?"

"Getting itchy?" you inquired knowingly.

He nodded and you patted the spot next to you on the couch that had been vacated by Athena in her search for the water bowl you'd put out for her.

He took the offer, sitting down and turned slightly towards you so you had easier access to both sides of his face.

He avoided your eyes as you worked, not wanting to be tempted, drawn in by them. You were doing him a simple favor a friend would do, nothing more. He didn't want to take advantage of your close proximity; it didn't matter that you shared feelings for him.

He didn't expect you to reach out and tug at his wavy hair almost absentmindedly midway through the process.

His eyes met yours questioningly when you did so.

"While I'm at it, do you want me to trim your hair?" you asked. "It's getting over your ears."

He cleared his throat, it suddenly having gone dry. "Uh, yeah, that would be good."

It took a few extra minutes, but was worth it. In the end, even without having yet shaved his face smooth, he was feeling a whole lot more like himself and not so much like the caveman he'd felt like he was becoming.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

The tension between you was almost palpable.

He broke it by standing up and returning to the bathroom to finish the job, leaving you alone with the scissors still in hand.

Once Zach had disappeared back into the bathroom to finish his grooming, you stood to bring the empty bowl you'd shared with Athena into the kitchen to rinse it out and label it as her official food bowl, not keen on the idea of using it after she had, no matter how cute she was.

You had time to shove Zach's cooling bowl of stew into the microwave before you heard her whining at the door and had to let her outside to do her business.

Waiting for both Zach and Athena, you busied yourself in the bedroom by unpacking some of the items you'd need that night and shaving your armpits, the only place on your body you still shaved even after the world ended. It just didn't feel right to let it grow out, even after having gotten used to your legs being unshaved.

Zach reappeared before Athena, clean shaven for the first time in weeks, just as you returned to the living room.

"How does it look?" he inquired, arms spread out in that what-do-you-think gesture.

"Good," you replied, giving him a thumb up. You secretly thought Zach looked good no matter if he had facial hair or not.

He approached you and rubbed his cheek. "Did I miss any spots? I didn't take my knife out to use as a mirror."

Without thought you boldly reached out to grab his face and examine it.

"No rough spots," you concluded, your eyes happening to meet his again.

His gaze was more intense than you’d ever seen it before. Your breath caught. "Zach..."

His lips were on yours without a moment's notice, already moving against them, needily. You responded in kind, thrown by the suddenness of it, but excited that it was actually happening. It felt a little surreal after all the time you'd spent around him, fantasied about him, all while assuming he did not feel the same way.

Zach deepened the kiss languidly, savoring the taste of you as his hands wandered up the length of your clothed spine, and you hummed happily, completely and utterly focused on his pleasant touch. His hands were so warm and broad like his shoulders, his mouth soft.

When you eventually dared to break the kiss, you grinned at him. "I've wanted that for a long time."

He ran his hands up your arms to hold them at the elbow and nodded. "Me too."

"Really?" you questioned, head tilting back slightly. "It's not just because I'm the only woman you've seen in months?"

He shook his head and caressed the edge of your lower jaw with the fingertips of his right hand. "Far from it. I've been admiring you from the start. Always thought you were strong and beautiful."

You scoffed. "Strong? You've had to protect me from the moment we met."

"You survived alone for a time before that," he pointed out, "And you refused give up when those men attacked you, even though you were outnumbered. You also took care of me when I got shot, and you have never complained once about your feet being sore the entire time we've been traveling together, even when you got that blister on your toe."

"Only cause I didn't want to slow you down or give you a reason to leave me behind," you admitted.

Zach traced your lips with the pad of his thumb and his expression turned dead serious. "I would never."

The deep tone to his words sent heat coursing through your body. You crushed your lips against his and pulled yourself to him as he lead you backwards towards the couch, to the nearest comfortable spot to lay down.

You pressed a palm to his chest when you felt the back of your knees brush against the solid furniture and gazed into his bright eyes, searching them for intent. "Zach, if we do this," you said a little breathlessly, "I won't be able to keep my feelings out of it. I can't..."

He cupped your chin gently, interrupting you. "I won't either; I don't want to," he promised.

You believed him, heard the sincerity in his voice, saw it in his dark yet expressive orbs. You bridged the gap between you two to kiss him again and what came next was a blur as you almost frantically peeled off each other's layers of clothing before letting yourselves fall onto the couch, Zach hovering above you, supporting his upper body with one hand as the other slid slowly down your bare skin, making its way between your thighs.

You parted your legs readily as he felt you there, pressed his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves and crooked two of his other thick fingers inside you, the sensations you felt from the contact making you buck into his touch, urging you to seek more contact, more friction, harder.

You stared up at him as you fell apart by his calloused hands alone, and he covered your mouth with his greedily. You could feel how tense his body was against yours, could feel his stiff length brushing against your center, and a thrill passed through you knowing how much making you feel good had turned him on.

You embedded your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and you folded your legs over his lower back, securing them around his waist and tilting your hips up invitingly. "Zach..."

"You want me?" he asked.

You nodded feverishly. "Yes." The desperate tone in your voice had him groaning and he wasted no time lining his body up with yours, eyes still on your face.

With a gentle roll of his hips he buried himself inside you, stretching you out so perfectly you whined, a sound that compelled him to seek out your mouth again as his free hand found your lower back. He helped you arch up towards him as he began thrusting into you, eyes scanning your face for every micro reaction you had to his movements.

A quiet moan slipped from you and you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the glorious friction he was generating. It was like second nature for you to move your body in time with his, taking him in satisfyingly deep.

Being connected to him that way, so intimately, that was why you had followed Zach, why you had ignored your blister and kept putting one foot in front of the other. It wasn't just because you had hope for tomorrow, or because you simply refused to give up and die. It was also because even without Eden's existence, life wasn't void of good things, stolen moments, even after the apocalypse.

The friendship you'd had with Zach had been good, would have ultimately been enough, but having something more with him, to be the one he desired, the one who got to see him slowly fall apart, neck straining as he fought against giving into his ecstasy before you could come a second time, that was dreamy. For the first time in a long time you didn't feel like you were just surviving.

You canted your hips even more and your breath hitched when the new angle allowed Zach to nudge the special spot inside you head on, making your toes curl.

In the past, when you'd been intimate with other men, it had taken a fair amount of time before you got anywhere close to your breaking point, but not that night, not with Zach.

Maybe it was because of the dreams you'd had, maybe it was because of all you'd been through together, or maybe it was because he was really that good, but whatever the case, Zach's steady pace wound you up at an intoxicating speed, the pleasure overwhelming you, causing you to desperately claw at his smooth back with your blunt, chewed up nails.

You dug them in when you finally crested, a drawn out moan accompanying the waves of bliss.

You opened your eyes back up in time to see Zach quickly remove himself from you to find his own release, clenched jaw going slack as his body shuddered, as he called out your name, voice raspy, his heaved breaths tickling your neck. He took a moment to wipe up the cum that was dripping down your thigh, his, with the undershirt he'd discarded earlier, then molded himself back to your body, resting his head on your chest.

You weaved your fingers with his and he stared up at you, eyelids drooping, heavy now that he was spent. Your stomach flipped at how sweet he looked, his expression soft, more relaxed than you thought him capable of.

"It's been a long time since I had someone like you in my life," he admitted drowsily. "It's nice."

"Just nice?" you questioned playfully.

He chuckled lightly. "More than."

He was about to dose off in your arms, your hands roaming his lean body absentmindedly, when whining and persistent scratching at the front door startled you both out of your peaceful trances.

You'd totally forgotten Athena was still outside. You were immediately grateful she hadn't interrupted beforehand.

Zach groaned loudly and pushed himself up onto his feet. "I'll get her."

He strolled over to the door in all his naked glory and wrenched it open, letting in a blast of cold air he made sure to avoid by hiding behind the door. "Come on in. Hurry up."

Athena shot inside, shaking her body furiously as soon as Zach shut the door behind her, trying to rid herself of the melting snow in her short coat.

"Glad you didn't run into anything bad out there, but you couldn't have waited a little longer?" he asked her, eyes narrowing.

"Better now than a few minutes earlier," you reasoned as you tugged the couch blanket over your body to keep warm.

He pursed his lips. "True."

"Besides, you have soup in the microwave," you added. "You need to eat it before it rots. And you need to turn off the generator for the night before we waste too much fuel."

"And what are you going to do?" he inquired, lips pulling back humorously.

"Clean up the sticky mess that you left on my thigh."

You were pretty sure you heard Zach growl at your statement.

You smirked. Mission accomplished.

xxx

Dutch to English Translation:

Blij = Stay

xxx

Tagged: @morallyinept @harriedandharassed @love-affair-with-fandoms @captain-jebi

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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#Zach Wellison #Brothers & Sisters #Zach Wellison Fanfic (Mine)#Brothers & Sisters Fanfic #X Reader #Finding Eden Series

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lunaji · 1 year ago

Text

Bubble baths.

Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive themes (MDNI)

Warnings: mentions of sex.

Synopsis: Shared baths and late evenings.

Word count: 1000>

Authors note: Just a quick headcanon of Binnie that I needed to put into words. Enjoy :)

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If you like my work, please do let me know, it makes my day ♡

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12:52am.

Nothing but the hum of a song long forgotten playing on the vinyl player from your shared bedroom. Not even the name is remembered, only the simple melody it provides as background aura.

The smell of warm vanilla and faint citrus fill the air, candles surrounding the bathtub admitting a soft light only romance novels could write. Except, it’s not on a page, it fills the present moment, consumes both parties.

Whispers of kisses trail slowly from one shoulder to the other, tracing nonsense into the flesh of your back as eyes flutter shut, enjoying the tranquility of each other's breathing, sounds and body warmth above the heat of the bubble mountained water.

Hands intertwining on thighs pressed together in the small but just right tub for the two bodies cuddled closely, enjoying the intimacy of the atmosphere with little to no words spoken.

Sometimes when you share the bath, the rain drizzles slowly down the window, or maybe it’ll hit the panes with a force so harsh it drowns out the music. Either way, you both bask in its comfort, it's a welcoming sound that creates an ambience that only feels right shared with each other - no one else.

Because you are his, and he is yours. No one comes close, and the subtle clink of wine glasses, exchanged mutual laughter that spills from your lips, the way the goosebumps appear when fingers dance along sunkissed skin, daring to inch closer to where you would move to silken, snug sheets, exploring each others bodies like it was the first time all over again.

“Bin..”

“Say it again, say my name.”

“Changbin..”

No touch is unfamiliar, and welcomed with open arms, a warm, safe feeling. The trust in each other built over years of late night conversations, where only each other and the moon can hear. The whispers of love and affection that only grows deeper with each day spent together.

This bath in particular, that started at 12:38am, after the affinity spent after an evening of good food, a walk along the canal and back home to the familiarity of bodies, every freckle, mark and response to each touch. Each kiss, to the lips, the neck. The heart - a personal favourite that is always and never forgotten, followed with:

“My heart, forever and always.”

To the chest, breasts, arms. No portion of either’s bodies untouched by affection, by longing and need. There’s lust too, sure. But only longing and yearning for the person each other knows so well, so profoundly.

Torso, gripped with gentle but firm fingers, back arched off the bed as only things spoken in a confession box could be forgiven for, are performed like an act practiced for years. Because, he knows your body more than anyone else. Maybe even you, yourself too.

Emotions only spoken through actions, fingers intertwined on soft pillows, the rocking of the bed and mutual hums mixing together in a melody. Kisses shared not desperate, but sensually and knowingly. Faint touches lasting longer than usual, bodies fitting together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.

Sparks that only emit from the pure love and doting of each others chemistry, the pants and moans of longing, needing of one another’s attention filling the room - the smell of sex being the remains of the evening in the air.

The running of water in the bath fills the atmosphere, breaking the comfortable silence of breaths of recovery. Bubbles to hide the sins of what previously had been shared, the splashing of water dangerously threatening to spill over the sides as giggles of relief from the feeling of hot water calming muscles down.

Which brings us to now, where you both bask in the comfort once again of each other's bodies. Nothing sexual, but more yearning, his hands trailing your body in the usual maps drawn out in your skin. Your own wrapped around the one settled above your chest, hugging it close, as if he could leave you at any moment.

But, Changbin wouldn’t dream of that. You’re his soulmate, his other half that completes him. Corny, but accurate enough to bypass any doubt you may have.

The words whispered not anything short of the absolute truth:

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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atrwriting · 2 years ago

Text

chapter seven: the wolf and the dragon -- modern!gangleader!aemond x modern!bartender!fem!reader

alright folks it finally gets ~kinda steamy~

as always, warnings: nsfw (but no smut -- it's coming!!), dubcon lapdance

after everyone had left, you kept on with closing activities. you weren’t sure where aemond and aegon went, and you weren’t sure when you would see them next. finally, the last task of the night, taking out the trash was upon you, and you headed out the same back door that aemond did about an hour prior.

you turned the corner, ready to fling the trash into the bin, when you spotted the moonlight catch a highlight of white hair.

you jumped and almost dropped the trash.

“you’re still here?” you demanded, surprised to see aemond.

he didn’t respond. he just stared off into the distance as he leaned against the bar’s outside wall with his arms folded. his gaze was absent, unlike the usual focused eyes that scared you to the core. your teeth sank into your bottom lip in worry.

you swallowed thickly. “you must be hungry. ready to take me up on food?”

“no,” he answered simply. “i need to think.”

you nodded as your brow furrowed. “do you… want to be alone?”

he turned to face you with a gaze that was now focused, and you shivered at the sight. his lips were in a thin, set line. his jaw was clenched and his cheekbones were catching the highlight of the moon. he looked through you in the same way his grandfather did, but with more intensity.

“believe it or not… you’re the least annoying person at this moment,” he spoke. “don’t change that.”

you sucked in a weary breath, unsure of how to proceed. “um... goodnight then, aemond.”

you turned to leave, ready to give him the time he seemed to need, but you felt his hand reach out and grasp you by the arm. you struggled in his hold, letting out a few gasps as you were caught off guard. you tried to push him away, but he was too fast and too sure of himself as he lead you away from the building.

“aemond — what —“

he brought you around to the side of the building where one motorcycle stood leaning on its kickstand. he grabbed the helmet off of the handlebar, and shoved it into you. you coughed as you caught it.

“get on,” he simply ordered.

you gripped the helmet, frozen in place, as words sputtered out of you. “where — are we —“

“i said get on,” he spat. “and i said i needed to think.”

you narrowed your eyes at him before tugging the helmet on. aemond swung a long leg over his seat before wrapping his large hands over the handles. with two twists of one wrist, the engine roared to life.

your breath caught in your throat at the sound. the way the engine purred was a sound unlike any other. you looked upon the beautiful piece of machinery and onto its owner. you shouldn’t have felt as thrilled as you did… but you couldn’t deny how much excitement flooded through your veins.

aemond’s shoulders were stretched to show the taut muscles of his upper back from under his shirt. you had looked upon aemond before, sure — but not like this. in this moment, you could see every ripple of muscle and strength as he sat where he appeared to love most.

“are you done staring?” he snapped.

you scrambled to get on the back of the seat. you weren’t sure where to place your hands, so you grabbed the handle on the back of the motorcycle. aemond groaned in annoyance. he reached behind him, and grabbed one of your arms. he wrapped it around himself, and held it right to him around his abdomen. an order.

your other arm followed without his help.

“hold on!” he warned, before rolling away from his parking spot.

* * *

aemond had brought you to a strip club, of all places.

“you know how to treat a lady,” you grumbled, walking into the back VIP room.

“we’re here on business,” he replied curtly.

“we?” you raised your eyebrow.

“yes, we, now be quiet.” he stated.

you followed aemond into the back room and saw a man already sat in one of the plush couches that faced another. the man, with salt and pepper hair and tanned skin, turned and smiled at you both.

“the dragon and the wolf!” he announced standing up. “ms. stark, i am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

you smiled from behind aemond, stepping around to shake the man’s hand. “it’s nice to meet you.”

who the fuck was this guy?

“don’t be rude, rhanas,” aemond quipped, gesturing to the man. “you should state your name when introducing yourself. y/n, this is rhanas martell.”

“nothing gets past this guy,” rhanas laughed, eyeing aemond. “so… let us sit.”

you followed behind aemond as he planted himself in the plushy couch. the room, decorated with darker colors and mood lighting, smelled of the latex from condoms, smoke, liquor, and all other forms of debauchery. you didn’t get out much from your own tame bar, so this change of scenery put a little pep in your step.

“so…” rhanas began, taking a large swig of his drink. “what do you offer?”

“fifteen percent,” aemond stated plainly, pouring his own drink and yours. “take it or leave it.”

you were unsure what they were talking about, so you simply sat between the two men. you did what aemond said and stayed quiet, and honestly you preferred it that way. looking the other way on shady business was one thing, but being literally in the middle of it? that was a completely different situation, and suddenly part of you realized aegon was right.

the dornish man threw his head back in laughter, part of his drink spilling on the couch. “for stolen auto parts? in this market? you must be joking.”

“i don’t joke."

a statement like that from aemond, if directed at you, would’ve made you stop and inhale sharply. rhanas? different story.

“no, but i do, young dragon,” his laughter was calmer now as a more serious tone crept into the conversation. “and since i do, i know a joke when i hear one. that offer is a fucking joke.”

you didn’t really know what to do. you sat with one leg over the other with an elbow up on the top of the couch. you clutched you drink as the man and aemond went back and forth, deciding on what fair really meant to the both of them. you clenched your jaw as the rest of your body froze.

“you stiffed me on the untaxed cigarette deal,” rhanas dismissed aemond. “it won’t happen again, especially not with something you need.”

“do not proceed to tell me what i need, martell,” aemond spat.

“oh, i will,” rhanas replied. “and you, my friend, are in desperate need of head.” rhanas then turned to you. “tell me, young wolf, you don’t blow him enough, do you?”

you choked on your drink before clapping a hand to your chest. with bewildered eyes, you demanded, “excuse me?!”

rhanas had a mischievous smile playing at his lips as he considered your abrupt reaction. he gestured between the two of you with a lazy movement of his jewelry clad hand. “you two are not… together?”

you shook your head. “we’re not.”

“martell-“ aemond began, but he was swiftly cut off.

“tell you what, dragon,” rhanas sat back, swirling his drink in his glass. “if you’re not fucking her, then i’ll take your shit deal if she strips for me and gives me a lap dance. in front of you.”

“now that’s a fucking joke,” you laughed incredulously.

rhanas' dark, sultry eyes flicked over to you then. you could feel aemond's own eye throwing a glare so hot into the side of your face that your body stiffened. with a wicked grin playing at his lips, rhanas asked, “you are in hospitality, no?”

"i am, and that means i'm well versed in the rules of hospitality," you quirked an eyebrow at him. "aemond was the one to pour my drink, and you think i’ll get in your lap the first time i meet you? you’re going to have to work a little harder than that, rhanas.”

you shot a quick glance towards aemond, but his usual confidence was not there. his lips were pursed in a way where he did not appear to know how to manipulate the situation to his liking. there was no rebuttal, no counteroffer, nothing — but there was every bit of anguish brewing in his eye as he glared at martell.

aemond had no back up plan, you realized. and he was desperate for this offer to work.

“you’re right, where are my manners, wolf?” he chuckled, sitting back. “aemond was the one to pour your drink, so he should be the one to get the lap dance. strip for him. i’ll watch. final offer.”

you stared at the man for a moment before you thickly swallowed. “i’m a bartender. you should pay one of the girls out there. i highly doubt i’ll put on a good show. you’d be wasting your time.”

“amateur porn is good too, no?” he poured himself another drink.

you gave aemond the time to respond, and still… nothing.

fucking hell, you thought.

“i keep my underwear on,” you bargained.

“for the amateur… sure,” he settled.

he thought you were cute and had little to offer, and frankly aemond owed you big time. fucking christ, what had you gotten yourself into?

you cast a quick look at aemond, who was still silent. his gaze was on you, and while he didn’t plead with you to perform, he didn’t exactly ask you not to perform for the man. you took that as a sign that it was a go.

you finished your drink, and knelt down on the floor on your knees. aemond opened his legs for you as he sat back on the couch, eye on you. his chest was rising broader with each breath, and you didn’t know how to feel. as you trailed your both sets of fingers up each leg slowly, you locked eyes with him.

business partners? you mouthed.

he gave a slight nod, still staring back at you.

alright, well…. time to give it your best shot.

you know you weren’t just giving a dance to aemond… you, and aemond, couldn’t afford you to be that much of a pair of amateurs. you had to make sure the dornish man was as close to creaming his pants as possible, and hopefully that would seal the deal and keep aemond in a good mood.

you crossed your arms and lifted your shirt slowly over your head. a basic, black t-shirt bra was underneath your shirt, nothing fancy. a little notice to the night's dress code would've been nice, you thought. you folded your hair to one side, exposing your back to rhanas, and stood to your feet. you kept your eyes on aemond’s eye the entire time, needing his strength to keep you level as you stripped for a man you’ve never met in your life and another man that made your blood boil. after your jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped, you slowly pulled the fabric down your legs. your plump ass was bending at the waist, perfect for the dornish man to ogle at. you stepped out of the pants that pooled at your ankles, and walked towards aemond.

you placed one hand on his shoulder as you bent forward, sticking your ass out once more. your cleavage was a mere few inches from his face, but he kept his eyes on yours. you weren’t sure if it was to show respect, or if he was honestly disgusted, but you needed a distraction from the atrocity that you were performing.

you trailed your fingers up from the top of his thigh, his stomach, and all the way to his broad chest. you climbed into his lap, and sat down on his muscular thighs. you spread your legs so each of your thighs was resting on one of aemond’s, sucking in a small breath as you did. you took both of aemond’s hands in yours, and rested them on your hips. you almost lost your balance, trying to keep yourself steady, but aemond held you in place and brought you forward and closer to him in his lap. the slightly abrupt motion put you right over his jean clad cock, already slightly hard.

your eyes widened at the feeling of your black lacey panties and his jeans being such minuscule barriers between his cock and your cunt. with being so close to him, it was harder for you both to maintain eye contact as you had once before. you witnessed his eye drifting between the nape of your neck, your lips, your eyes, your cleavage, and your skin as you rocked your hips into his.

you had to remember you were putting on a show for not only aemond, but the man behind you. you threw a hand in your hair, pulling at its roots, as you leaned your head back. aemond kept you firmly in place as you gripped his shoulder. you could feel aemond’s cock harden with each movement of your hips, and you would be lying to say the small humming coming from deep in your throat was only for the show. the lace of your panties and the rough fabric of his jeans was creating the most delicious friction on your clothed bud, and you needed more, but you needed to remember why you were here.

you stood up from your spot on aemond’s lap and turned in place so now you were facing the dornish man. you strategically stepped a foot away from aemond, keeping you equally distant away from each man. you kept your eyelids heavy over your eyes, fearful to catch him staring. you wouldn’t get the same strength from aemond’s eye and you were afraid of what would happen if you choked and suddenly the illusion of lust was gone. you could tell aemond was desperate to keep this deal, and you refused to fuck it up for him.

you bent slowly at the waist and leaned your ass towards aemond. you grabbed your tits, pushing them together and massaging them in your hands, and swung your hips slowly in a half circle. the muscles in the back of your legs were being pulled taut, an uncomfortable stretch, so you snapped back up and turned towards aemond once more. the other creep had seen enough.

this time, you sat on his lap backwards. with your hands rested on his knees, you slid your hips onto his cock and rocked against it. you smiled and bit your lip at the feeling of aemond’s impressive bulge nestled between your thighs and up against your throbbing cunt.

you pushed your hips into aemond once more before sitting up, your back pressed against his chest. with one hand firmly planted on the top of his thigh, helping you keep your balance, you grasped his palm in yours and placed his fingertips at the top of your lace panties.

aemond’s eye was burning into yours at this moment. your lips parted as your eyes softened on his. every bit of aemond looked as if he was restraining himself the best he could, but all you wanted to do was melt into him. with a small breath leaving your lips, you let his fingertips drag slowly up your stomach. with the intense eye contact that was shared between you and aemond, it felt like only you and him were in the room. your hand didn’t stop on one of your tits, no… you brought his hand up to your throat, and let it enclose around it. aemond’s eyes widened at the motion as he swallowed thickly, and you could only smile down at him devilishly.

“i’m a man of my word,” rhanas martell suddenly spoke, clearing his throat and standing up. “dance for fifteen percent. done.”

he buttoned his coat, averting his gaze, but a small smile played at his lips. like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to, or knew something that no one else did.

he turned and left towards the door, but not before he turned back to face the both of you. “and i’m locking this door behind me.”

and then he was gone.

aemond’s hand was still around your throat when you both met each other’s gaze after rhanas had left. you both were holding your breath throughout the entire ordeal, and when you were finally alone, suddenly you both had to take a giant breath at what just happened. however… aemond’s eyes never left yours, and his hand never left your throat.

“you got your deal,” you stated breathlessly, frozen in place. “you’re a good actor.”

“i wasn’t acting,” he spoke lowly, inches from your face. "and i don't believe you were, either, sweetheart."

---

tag list:

@hopebaker @iiamthehybrid @chainsawangel

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raineandsky · 2 years ago

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~Fancy Schmancy~

(this is a piece i co-wrote with @heroes-villains-side-blog, go here to read part 2!)

To my dearest beloathed,

What a dishonour it was to receive your last letter. It upsets me greatly to have to hear of your pathetic attempts to defeat me in my own territory. You always fail though, so I suppose there is some delight in knowing you are awful at the game you started.

I am so terribly sorry I have not been able to return your deplorable attempts to outdo me recently. I have been quite busy myself doing things I am good at, such as being better than you. I must apologise for my lack of engagement recently – I have been engaged in vigorous party planning, and myself and some friends will be hosting an event you would surely be an embarrassment to. Once it is over, I promise I will return your desperate calls for attention and you will once again find yourself physically, intellectually, and emotionally devastated.

Wait for me, darling!

Worst regards,

Hero xoxo

Villain screwed up the paper with a scoff. They’d been looking at the letter for longer than they’d be willing to admit, slowly deciphering the illegible flouncy lettering and holding themself back from tearing it to shreds. Ugh, Hero was a snobbish loser.

They tossed the ball in the general direction of the bin, flopping down at their desk with a sigh. Maybe they weren’t as posh as Hero was, but so what? They thought they were so good just because they had a giant house and loads of money and tons of friends and cars and food and parties—

Hold on a second.

Villain dived for the bin before realising their aim was massively off, scooping the crumpled paper off the floor under the table instead. They smoothed it out against the desk, eyes carefully tracing over the cursive as a plan formulated in their head like a puzzle suddenly fitting all its pieces together.

Myself and some friends will be hosting an event you would surely be an embarrassment to.

This was basically an invitation. Hero thought they’d be an embarrassment? The only person embarrassed would be Hero. And by god, they were going to embarrass them in front of everyone.

A new guest entered the hall, and Hero narrowed their eyes at them suspiciously. At first glance their attire fit right into the party, almost regal in nature, but it didn’t take much effort for them to see right through it at the lies it hid.

The fur lining their cloak was discoloured and fake, the jewellery adorning their neck a poor imitation of gold. Even when they graciously took a glass of wine from a waiter, their hand lacked the natural elegance of a true aristocrat. Even from here, it was obvious who they were looking at.

There was no way Villain was fooling anyone. Especially not now since they had just added paprika to their dish of roasted honey eggs cooked by the talented Chef Fanci Pants, as indicated by their initials on each dish. Everyone knows the chef is allergic to paprika so to use it on one of their dishes is to disrespect the chef, the host, and the food itself!

As per rule of high society, the hosts had to go and make small-talk with all the new guests. And it was Hero's turn.

Finishing their glass of punch so that they could embarrass Villain by not having a drink while they were drinking — ah ha! That would show them! — they made their way to their uninvited guest.

"Good morrow, Villain," they said without an hors d'oeuvre or glass in their perfectly manicured hand, clasping their hands in front of them like they were speaking to a stableboy. They smiled at the thought of everyone gasping in their mind at their host's breach of etiquette, setting the tone for the rest of the party if they were lucky.

"Hi, Hero. What's up?" Villain didn't even attempt to give their host the dignity of eye contact, too busy stuffing the expensive gourmet cuisine into a bag under the table in such a way that it was only visible to Hero and no one else. Hero watched them with an air of distaste, making note of the rapidly depleting tower of canapes they had spent so long building earlier.

“Dare I even indulge you to inquire about the reason for your visit?” The question is met with a delighted grin, and some part of them regrets asking at all.

“No reason. Just thought I’d come see how the other half lives,” Villain tells them nonchalantly. They give one of the tiny snacks a once-over before shoving it rather ungracefully into their mouth. “Oh, wow, that’s really good. Send your chef my regards, or whatever the phrase is.”

“Compliments to the chef,” Hero corrects flatly. “Anyhow, I fear you may be a little out of your depth here, Villain. I imagine you shall find yourself rather puzzled by this high a society.”

"Oh, that's no problem," Villain had resorted to speaking with their mouth full.

How uncouth. Hero had half a mind to punch their jaw right now. But they would have to resort to a hard smile and narrowed eyes for now, and hope Villain would put themselves out of everyone's misery, including their own.

"No problem at all. I rather enjoy watching you high-folk peacock about. See, that's why I brought my hat, do you like it?"

It was a large hat, largest in the room by far and too big for Villain's outfit. It had multiple peacock feathers, white peacock feathers actually — they were fake, of course, there was no way Villain could afford even the most basic of free-range peacock feathers, let alone rare white ones, but an interesting choice they had made nonetheless.

"That's quite the… hat… you have."

"Thank you! Made it myself! Had to make a statement, y'know?"

"Statement?" Hero had to bring their voice back down to a polite level. They nodded to the few guests who had turned around and resumed their fake smile and hushed tone, "What statement are you going for? All I can see is a pompous hat too big for the wearer, let alone this party. Not to mention that you're wearing fur with feathers, fake fur and fake feathers, but fur and feathers nonetheless! You're a walking fashion faux-pas!"

"Why, thank you! Exactly what I was going for," they beamed. Hero couldn't believe Villain. They did this in purpose? Did they not care about their image and reputation at all? What were they playing at? Why would Villain embarrass themselves at Hero's party — wait.

"You're here to embarrass me and ruin my party, aren't you?"

"Exact-amundo, Mx Host! I learnt all about your hoity-toity high-society etiquette just to break every unspoken rule at your party!"

"How dare you?"

"I dared quite easily, actually. Look, I've already left your buffet table lacking of any real food and you too distracted to ask the wait staff to come with more."

"You fiend! I'll get you for this! I'll get you —"

"— you'll only get me if I let you… which I won't."

Hero had had enough! They couldn't waste a second with this not-guest any longer. They picked up an empty glass and were just about to raise it with two olives and an orange slice — how it had been decided the wait staff would be contacted — when Villain very loudly proclaimed:

"Oh, Thank YOU, Hero! I am FAMISHED! Now, let me tell you, in detail, of the history of the humble clown nose. I'm sure, being the good host that you are, you would never leave one of your guests in the midst of a conversation that you yourself asked for. And, why yes, I do like my hat and I have brought similar hats for everyone at the party so we can all have a hat party — how fun!"

Hero glanced at the crowds of people around them, their eyes burning into them with curiosity at Villain’s announcement. They could only watch with barely restrained contempt as the Villain dumped a bag on the floor at their feet, offering blatant make-shift hats to anyone unfortunate to stand close enough. A few people humoured them, taking whatever they were offered and showing them to their friends under obvious pompous scrutiny, and Hero decided they’d not let this go any further than it already had.

They looped a hand under Villain’s arm, dragging them away from the huddle they were forming. They both watched — with varying degrees of satisfaction and disappointment — as others gathered to pull strange assortments of headwear out, some of them laughing together lightly as they turned cheap ribbons and poor weaving in their hands.

“Seems like I’m making your party better,” Villain said eventually, a victorious smile on their face. “Everyone’s having a great time with me, see?”

“No, Villain, they’re having a great time because they’re laughing at you.” Hero sighed as their smile faltered slightly, a slight knit in their brows forming at the words. “You’re embarrassing me, sure, but purposely being out of place in a world like this is like throwing yourself to the sharks.”

“Sharks are pretty nice, actually.” It was a last-ditch effort at a defence, but their voice was quiet, laced with uncertainty as their eyes drifted to the crowd growing nearby. “You don’t like the hats? I have a horse outside with a green mane for optimum humiliation.”

“I understand that you’re trying to make me look like I invited someone stupid and frankly shameless to a posh party—” Villain huffed amusedly at that. “— but in the end the only person you’re really embarrassing is yourself. Inviting someone foolish is a temporary setback, but being an idiot is permanent.”

There was silence for a second before Villain pointed a finger in their face, laughing shortly like they’d figured something out. “You are embarrassed!” they declared proudly. “You’re trying to make me leave by pretending I’m embarrassed, but it’s you!”

“Of course, I’m embarrassed, you buffoon! How could I not? There’s barely anything interesting at these ridiculous parties and then you waltz in with your garish hat, your faux-tailored costume, and your knowledge of every social rule and how to break them — you- you- you just promised everyone a topic of conversation for the next decade! At my expense!” they finally took the time to breathe, poorly, they couldn’t manage more than a series of few shallow breaths before they stopped those too.

“Hey, hey. Why are you so tensed up about this? You’re the one who’s always so mean and cruel. I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

“That’s just a persona, you dolt! I have to be mean to keep up my reputation. I have to act cruel to fit in. You wouldn’t understand,” they pointed a finger, but then it went limp as they stared out into nowhere. “And there’s no point even explaining anything to you because I'll be laughed at and shunned at every social gathering for the rest of time. My reputation is ruined. My friends are most definitely saving their faces by laughing at me right now. I’ve lost everything.”

(Part 2)

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #heroes villains side blog #this was super fun!! co writing is an adventure i have experienced for the first time

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ficnation · 2 years ago

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Popcorn - Thor x Reader

Prompt: Popcorn

Word count: 861

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Female! Reader

Warnings: fluffy fluff, cursing

A/n: This is the short Marvel piece I’ve wrote for @the-slumberparty one-word warm-up :D

☁ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁ || ☁ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁

You’ve had a bad day at work, probably the worst one ever. The company you worked for was having trouble with its budget, and the task of fixing it fell onto you, which was really frustrating. It made your job so much harder and tedious. You almost considered quitting. Almost. Because the pay was way too good to give up on so quickly.

So when you came home that evening, you sighed deeply and kicked the door shut. You were tired as fuck. That much was clear. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about everything. Forget the large numbers displayed on the hundreds of sheets of paper on your desk, and definitely forget how your boss scoffed at you for “working too slow.”

To your surprise, your apartment smelled like burnt popcorn, and then you remembered you didn’t live alone. You paused by the entryway and peered through the darkened living room into the kitchen. There you spotted a certain someone sitting hunched over the countertop, a bowl of almost black popcorn in front of him. The view was nearly comical.

“Almost burned the house down?” you asked, amused, crossing your arms over your chest. It would not be the first time.

Thor looked up, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled around his mouthful of popcorn.

You raised your brow at him. There was no way that tasted good. You knew that you were right when he grimaced and swallowed noticeably. The view made you snort. Then he turned toward you and smiled again, looking very handsome and boyish in his casual, Midgard attire. He wore loose jeans and a cozy hoodie that he seemed to never part from. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing his bearded face. The urge to tuck the luscious blonde locks behind his ear was irresistible.

“I don’t know what I did wrong. It doesn’t taste like yesterday,” Thor told you as he walked out from behind the counter. He took the popcorn bowl and tossed its content into the trash bin, mourning his failure. “I seem to attract more fire lately.”

You followed him into the kitchen and leaned against the countertop while he continued to rummage through the kitchen for food. “Oh yeah? What else have you burnt today?” you teased. All of the exhaustion disappeared from your body and mind in his presence. Just for a second, you let yourself feel carefree.

Your words seemed to make him nervous. He chuckled awkwardly before turning around and flashing you a charming smile, forgetting about the food for good. “Nothing important.”

You raised your brows, skeptical. Detecting Thor’s lies was something even a child would excel at. “Liar,” you accused with a playful scoff.

He gave you another weak smile before walking up to you and looking you up and down. Before you could register his intentions, he wrapped his arm around your waist and placed one hand on your hip, pulling you closer to him. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“You look tired, love,” he murmured into your hair, kissing your temple softly. He kissed your cheek, too, then nuzzled against your neck, breathing warm air across it. You hummed softly in response. He was great at distracting you; you had to give him that. “I am sorry I’ve burnt it.”

“Don’t worry about it, Thor. I should’ve taught you how to use the microwave a long time ago,” you murmured back, trying to keep yourself from squirming underneath his touch. His hands were strong and much bigger than yours. And god, they felt so warm even through the barrier that your shirt was. “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

The Norse god grinned and nodded, pressing an affectionate kiss to your lips. It lasted only a few seconds, but it still made your cheeks warm up.

“Yes, my lady,” he agreed.

When you reached your bedroom, you immediately collapsed face down onto your bed, not bothering to take off your shoes or jacket. However, Thor felt an obligation to make you as comfortable as was physically possible.

He leaned over the bed, lifting one of your legs after the other, sliding your heels off, and leaving a soft kiss on top of each foot. You giggled quietly, feeling ticklish. It made Thor beam at you. Your laughter was his favorite sound in the entire universe. He got your jacket off, too, hanging it on the nearby chair and letting you undress the rest of the way.

You felt Thor join you within seconds, burrowing his warm body into your side and curling against you. He held you tightly and pressed his face into your shoulder, sighing contently. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to enjoy it, relaxing completely after the stressful day.

“Thor, don’t you ever burn my house down,” you mumbled into the pillow, squinting at him.

Thor burst into a booming laugh, making you smile. “No need to fret, my sweet one. The popcorn flame will not consume this house again.”

You sighed in relief before your eyes shot open in realization. “Again?!”

@humanmistakes @yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff

#thor odinson x reader #thor odinson #marvel #marvel x reader #thor x reader #thor x you #thor odinson x you #marvel x you #fluff #marvel fluff #thor fic #marvel fic #the slumber party #navy and roo's sleepover

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daybreakrising · 1 year ago

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W.RIOTHESLEY HEADCANONS

WARNING. some of these headcanons will contain or refer to SPOILERS from his story quest - i've put them all beneath a cut so if you haven't done his quest / don't want spoilers, don't look at those!

wrio fidgets. he can't sit or stand still for very long unless he's completely focused on something or in certain situations. some common fidgety behaviour includes his known habit of cracking his knuckles/flexing his fingers idly, tapping his foot, bouncing his knee, etc. he'll also fidget with stuff in his hands - pens, tools, gadgets, handcuffs. when standing still, he'll shift his weight around, change the position of his hands/arms, fidget with stuff on his clothes.

he hyperfocuses when it comes to work or something that's important to him for one reason or another. very frequently loses track of time whilst working (not helped by being underwater and having no visual clues in his office to the passage of time) and often needs to be reminded (usually by s.igewinne) to take breaks for rest or food. he usually only surfaces by himself when he has to brew more tea.

he finds music very calming and relaxing. he's usually got something playing when he's working in his office, but in particular if he's stressed he'll put on one of his favourite pieces and simply sit and listen - one of the few times he can be still and remain comfortable. s.igewinne has found him stretched out on his sofa, eyes closed and at peace, on more than one occasion.

as befitting the title given to him, wrio has a home in the overworld. he stays there on the occasions where he's in the Court of F.ontaine for longer periods of time, but despite its luxury and comfort, he finds he feels out of place there, and prefers the familiarity of his office lodgings in the Fortress. given that he's spent so much of his life below the surface, he doubts he'll ever be truly comfortable above ground.

although he appears to be a fairly reasonable man, he has his limits and there are hard lines he won't allow anyone to cross. it's sometimes easy to forget that the duke is a former convict when he's so fair and understanding to those he's responsible for, but there's a cold, harsh streak hidden beneath the veneer and he has no qualms about putting it into practice where necessary.

he took up boxing to find a healthy way to manage and confront his deep-rooted feelings of anger. during his earliest years in the Fortress, he was taken in by an older convict who taught him the right discipline and techniques, turning a kid used to brawling on the streets into a champion fighter in the ring. wrio keeps up that training and practice to this day & often goes a few rounds in the ring to relieve stress.

whilst the majority of his scars come from a lifetime of brawling and tinkering (and he's happy to tell the stories behind each one - though they're not always the truth), the ones on his throat/chest remain a mystery to everyone. if asked, he tells a variety of tales - which he always then reveals to be a lie at the end.

LAST WARNING. spoilers ahead.

wrio ran from his abusive home at the age of 10 and took to life on the streets. it was here he first learned to fight, out of necessity rather than desire, though these skills would certainly become useful to him years down the line.

he's always been a tinkerer, a boy interested in building and creating. after being on the streets for two years, he took up a new temporary home in the alley behind a workshop and used to rummage through the scrap bins for any parts to work with, just to keep himself sane and busy. the owner of the workshop eventually discovered this and took him on as an apprentice, giving him access to the workshop and all its tools and materials. this is where he built his first set of gauntlets.

he was convicted at the age of 14. as he admits later in life, at that time he was young and angry, and believed murder was the only way to save the children in that home, but he also doesn't regret what he did or how he did it, not if it meant sparing others from a cruel fate.

he was granted the title of Duke and claimed his position in the Fortress at the age of 26 (canon states 'his age had nearly doubled' from his sentencing), and has been the administrator for four years, putting his current age at 30.

he has a soft spot for children (orphans or those who have suffered/are suffering abuse in particular) and cannot abide any form of abuse directed towards them. he has no tolerance for adults who take advantage of a child in any form and openly treats them with disdain.

likewise, as seen in his story quest, he detests those who seek to steal a person's freedom, to control and manipulate them through whatever means, and to strip away their basic rights as individuals. these people receive his harshest treatment and trigger that cold, dark side of him that he normally keeps buried and under control. if he believes it to be for the good of everyone, he will have these people removed permanently.

he doesn't trust easily - understandable, given his past - but he doesn't shy away from certain facts of his history and will be honest if asked directly, though he'll typically give vague answers to those he keeps at a distance. only those he allows close get to know the details, if they wish to. he's not ashamed of who he is or what he's done, and he's worked hard to get where he is and atone for the crime he committed (however justified it was). he doesn't let his past control his future, but he knows better than to forget it entirely.

#;just another soul still living on (headcanons; wriothesley)#( i could have written more but this was already getting long )#( still working out some details here and there but i needed to get them down )#( and i know they're under a cut but just in case... )#// genshin spoilers #// genshin impact spoilers

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pecanwriter · 2 months ago

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Fatty Fat Kitty Cat (M/M)

Words: 5688

Summary: A lonely man is adopted by a strong-minded cat.

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, Comforting with Food

The staircase light didn’t work. Yaro flipped the switch up and down two more times, just in case he simply didn’t put enough emphasis on his desire to see the first five times around.

“Kurva…” He muttered under his breath, letting the smooth stream of invectives flow from his mouth as he climbed up to his flat in the dark. Theoretically, he could light up a match or use that old brick of a phone for a flashlight, but it just always seemed wrong. He paid rent, he paid taxes, didn’t he at least deserve a working light bulb?!

The door creaked loudly as he opened it and the echo of the sound vibrated down the dingy staircase. It was cut short only by another curse word muttered angrily by Yaro as he nearly tripped over himself, trying to take off his sneakers without undoing the shoelaces.

After a long and exhausting day at work, he needed three things. Dinner, a cigarette and a drink. There was a chance, although a very slim one, that he still had some pierogies left after visiting his babushka out in the country last Sunday, he’d been thinking about those beauties the entire bus ride home.

“Of course” Yaro scoffed, standing face to face with the disappointing contents of the fridge. He stared daggers at the horridly expired carton of milk, a singular egg with an unknown expiration date, three beers and a piece of sausage that was starting to develop its own ecosystem. He shut the fridge, refusing to clean it out purely on principle.

Yaro had yet to encounter a problem that couldn’t be made at least a little better with a cigarette, so he pulled out the pack. He, once again within a minute, found himself gravely disappointed, staring into the empty package.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He muttered to himself, reaching under the sink for the rubbish bin. By his logic, if he went down to throw out the trash and simply bought cigarettes while he already happened to conveniently pass by the store anyway, that proved that he wasn’t addicted, he just simply enjoyed smoking.

“Come on..!” Yaro groaned when the rubbish bag started promptly leaking foul-smelling juices of unknown origin all over the kitchen floor and his socks. Hopping to the door, as if that would help, and holding the bag in front of him in an outstretched hand Yaro pulled on his shoes and half-jogged, half-stumbled down the stairs.

He threw the trash into the equally smelly disposal at the back of the apartment building and was about to go back around to the street side when something moved in the corner of his eye. Yaro was “thinner than a twig” as his babushka was fond of saying, but you didn’t survive in Eastern Europe for twenty-six years without staying on your guard in back alleys after dark. With the power of his Slavic ancestors pumping adrenaline into his blood, Yaro turned around, ready to throw punches and trade insults with whoever… He dropped his hands. It was a cat. A bloody cat. The yellowish-green eyes were staring at Yaro in the dim light of a distant lantern.

“Stupid puss, I was ready to punch you…” He spat. As a reply, the cat let out a long, pathetic meow and padded over, starting to walk around Yaro’s ankles in an eight-pattern.

“Stop it, you’re dirty,” Yaro grimaced, trying to move away without stepping on the animal. The cat firmly ignored him, going from circling to rubbing against Yaro’s calf “No, no way! Go away, puss!” Yaro gently pushed the animal away with his sneaker and began walking back. He didn’t even manage to turn the corner before something brushed against his leg again. “No, stop it, bad cat, stay here!” Yaro ordered, pointing at the cat with an accusatory finger, hoping that would somehow convince it. It didn’t. The cat softly padded behind him all the way to the door of the convenience store. Yaro saw its big yellowish-green eyes stare at him through the glass as he closed the door. The expression on the cat’s little face could only be described as deeply wounded.

“Good evening, Mrs Petrova,” Yaro bowed to the elderly cashier. She was an old gossiping crone, if anyone asked him, but it was much easier to just feign respect than get into a petty neighbourhood war with Janka Petrova. He was pretty sure that on that one memorable occasion when he managed to have a guy over, she was the one who spread the rumour all over the street. It wasn’t like Yaro was particularly liked by any of his neighbours before, but making them aware he liked to stick it up other guy’s asses did nothing to improve his popularity. Naturally, it didn’t work out between him and Boris, who proved to be more than a little “loose” in terms of what counted as “cheating”, but still, the fact was that the old hag spread the rumours, he was certain of it.

“Yaroslav, your door is creaking again!” She called as he disappeared between the shelves “Get it fixed!”

“Good evening to you too…” He muttered under his breath. After a moment’s hesitation, he took two packages of beef pierogies and a stick of butter out of the fridge. He knew the store-bought pierogies could never compare to the ones his babushka made, but it was better than nothing and he’d been craving them since leaving work. After close consideration, he also took a piece of ham and walked over to the bread section to take half a loaf of already not the freshest sourdough bread. He promised his babushka he’d start eating breakfast and he was pretty sure that woman could see deep into his soul to check if he was lying.

“And two packs of red Pall Mall, please” He added as Mrs Petrova rang his items up at a glacial pace.

“ID?” She demanded, looking at him from under her silver eyebrows with much more sharpness than the speed of her movements indicated.

“Oh come on, Mrs Petrova, we’ve been neighbours for four years, you know me!” He protested.

“That’s beside the point, Yaroslav” She scolded, her gaze turning into a glare.

He decided not to argue that she knew his name, address, sexual orientation and exactly what he ate every single day as she sold it to him, and somehow claimed to still not know his age. With a sigh, he presented his ID to her.

As he stepped out of the store he nearly tripped and fell, just barely avoiding sending his entire back of groceries into orbit. When he looked for the source of the disturbance, he wasn’t surprised to see a pair of yellowish-green eyes staring up at him.

“Shoo, puss, I have nothing for you!” He swatted at the air to scare off the cat, but the animal, instead of getting spooked and running off, began to sniff around his grocery bag.

“If I feed you, will you go away?” He asked, rubbing his temple.

“Meow.” That was what the cat said, but to Yaro, it almost felt like he could hear the “Probably not, but you can try, fool” behind that single syllable.

“Oh for Fuck’s sake…” He muttered, taking out his pocket knife (which he wore for protection, but only ever used to open beer and letters from the bank) and cutting a small piece of ham.

“Here, and now leave me alone,” Yaro said, crouching down and offering the meat to his oppressor. He was fully aware that he shouldn’t be holding it in his fingers, rather offering it on an open palm, but it gave him more satisfaction to somehow prove that he was trying to be civil, it was the cat that was the problematic one.

The cat looked at the offering, then up at Yaro. “Really?” It seemed to be saying, “You think the way you hold it carries any significance to me?” The cat snatched the piece of meat while, oddly, keeping eye contact with Yaro. All cats were shameless assholes, to his knowledge, but this one seemed to be on another level. He watched for a while as the animal chewed loudly and with obvious relish.

“Now, leave me be, aye?” Yaro cocked an eyebrow. The cat kept staring at him, giving no reply. Shaking his head in resignation, he got up and slid inside his building without another look back.

Yaro let out a heavy sigh before opening the door to his flat, the key already in the lock, but yet not turned. He turned around, with a resigned frown. Only the cat’s eyes were visible in the nearly complete darkness.

“I’m not letting you in, go away.” He once again shook his fist at the animal, but it remained, predictably, unphased. “No way, you’re dirty.” The cat still didn’t react. “I have no space for a cat.” No reaction, just eyes in the dark.

With a sigh so heavy and tortured only a pure-blood Slav like himself could produce, Yaro opened the door. He stood with the door open while massaging the bridge of his nose as the cat calmly sauntered inside.

“Why me?” Yaro groaned, closing the door behind himself.

“Still hungry? Where does all that food go?” Yaro asked, looking at the cat who had finished his second helping of ham and was currently playing with the bowl next to Yaro’s leg.

“Meow” The cat confirmed, looking up.

Yaro shook his head but cut one of his pierogies in half and placed it in the cat’s bowl. Once again, the animal began loudly chewing with obvious relish. Yaro took a closer look at the cat. It was male and visibly adult, although on the petite side for a cat. Its coat was that of the generic house cat; brownish-grey fur with black stripes and a few dark spots. Its tail was thicker than a household cat's and Yaro knew that meant it was probably a hybrid of a European Wildcat and a regular domestic. His babushka had several of those on the farm and taught him how to distinguish between them through coat, tail thickness and size. The fact that this was a hybrid made its small stature even more unusual. The cat had a white patch on its neck and half of its mouth, and one of its front paws also had a white patch. It wasn’t only petite, but scrawny; evidently, it didn’t manage to secure much food while living outside. Yaro was staring so intently he didn’t even realise the cat finished eating and was now staring back up at him.

“Are you going to go away now?” Yaro asked.

“Meow.” The cat said, seeming to say “Hell, no, you idiot”. As if to prove its point, the cat jumped up and started settling on Yaro’s lap.

“Oh, no, no way!” Yaro snatched the animal up by the scruff of the neck “If you refuse to leave, then you have to be washed.”

The cat cried bloody murder and tried to fight, but Yaro wouldn’t yield so easily.

“Don’t stare, it had to be done,” Yaro said. The cat just looked at him before theatrically turning its head away. It was sitting with all its paws tucked under it on the towel Yaro put out for it on the couch so it could dry out after the bath. “I’m the one bleeding, so stop acting like you’re the one suffering!” Yaro spat, once again examining the scratches on his arms.

After a moment a stripy head appeared in his line of vision and soon, a sandpaper texture of a cat’s tongue rubbed against his reddened skin.

“God damn you,” Yaro muttered, scratching the cat behind the ear.

The cat meowed a little short meow and continued to lick his arm.

“What should I call you? Stripy? Whitepaw?”

The cat hissed, swatting his arm with a paw, claws retreated. Yaro rolled his eyes.

“What then?” The cat hissed again “What? Should I just call you Cat?”

The cat replied by settling itself in on Yaro’s lap.

Once again, rolling his eyes the man turned on the TV and settled in for the evening, scratching the cat behind its soft ear.

Cat emerged from the flat, stretching its tiny body and flopping its tail lazily.

“Good morning” Yaro rasped, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He was crouching by the door on his tiny balcony and having his breakfast cigarette, staring over the roofs of other old, grey houses with peeling plaster and graffiti spattered all over them. The old lady on the top floor of the nearest house over was watering her plants with a head full of rollers and the transition of the morning mass blaring from her tiny radio so loud it could probably be heard all the way down the street. The young guy two floors down was smoking in the window, rubbing his shaved head. Someone called to him from inside the flat and he yelled back a few rather uninventive curses before disappearing inside. A pigeon landed on the rail of Yaro’s balcony and he swatted at it.

Cat sat down next to him.

“You’re lucky you don’t have to go to work,” Yaro said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Cat let out a sound Yaro could’ve sworn was a snort of disapproving laughter.

“You cats think you know it all” He muttered to himself. Cat made a sound between a snort and a harumph. It didn't take a genius to interpret that as “Yes, we do”.

Yaro let out his own disapproving snort. For a moment they sat there in silence, the man smoking a cigarette, the cat swinging its tail lazily, both listening to the sounds of the early morning in town, soundtracked by the poor quality church music coming from the tiny radio across the yard.

“Alright,” the human said, standing up and making all his joints click “Let's have some food.”

“Meow.” The cat said, leading the human into the apartment, as if it belonged to it, not the man.

“I'm going to work, you're not coming,” Yaro informed Cat, who was standing by the door and watching him put his sneakers on.

“Meow,” Cat informed in an admonishing tone.

“Oh yeah?” Yaro said, glancing at it “You have business to attend to?”

“Meow.”

“Very well, it's not like I'm going to miss you,” Yaro opened the door, letting the cat out first and following behind it.

“Meow.”

Yaro rolled his eyes. He turned around to say something else after locking the door, but the hallway was already empty.

He stuffed the keys into his pocket and trotted down the stairs. By the time he stuck a cigarette in his mouth at the foot of the stairs and emerged into the street, it all began to seem like a dream. And yet, when he lit the cigarette it tasted suspiciously like loneliness.

“Meow.” Cat admonished, its tail swinging impatiently behind it, brushing over Yaro’s doormat.

“Sorry, I missed the first bus…” Yaro murmured. He leaned down to drop a piece of kielbasa on the doormat, but before it fell Cat snatched it up. Yaro opened the door to the sounds of the cat chewing loudly. He couldn’t suppress a tiny smile from stretching the corner of his mouth.

“How did your business in town go?” He opened the fridge, glancing away just for a moment to check if the cat was following him into the kitchen. Of course, Cat was standing right there by the table, looking at him very carefully with its giant eyes that today seemed more green than yellow.

“Meow,” Cat seemed to shrug.

“Oh yeah?” Yaro mused, putting a piece of ham in his mouth while considering how to fix up dinner.

“Meow!” Cat demanded.

“Jeez, fine, fine…” Yaro snorted, dropping a piece of ham and watching Cat snatch it up. “Fine, I give up, I’m not gonna cook,” He retrieved the second packet of store-bought pierogies and set a pot to boil.

Knowing that a watched pot never boils - as his babushka was fond of always reminding him, Yaro went out onto the balcony. It was getting dark and he could see a glimmering reflection of his own lit cigarette in the dark window across the yard. The old lady on the top floor was blasting the Evening News at full volume, and the young guy two floors down was yelling at someone while having a smoke, the middle-aged couple one window to the right from him was having dinner. The wife put a bowl of what seemed to be cucumber soup in front of the husband who nodded. Well, no, it couldn’t really be considered nodding, he performed a very minor twitch of the neck. She sat down across from him and asked something. He replied with another minor twitch of the neck.

Yaro startled, as a small ball of fur suddenly materialised in his lap and started settling in.

“Do you think they’re happy?” Yaro asked, absent-mindedly stroking Cat behind the ear and staring at the middle-aged couple.

“Meow” the cat replied philosophically, licking its one white paw.

Yaro took another drag of his cigarette, still unable to take his eyes off the couple eating cucumber soup “I know you’re not just a normal cat,” He heard himself say.

Cat froze, but only for a fraction of a second. He continued to lick his paws and then rolled into a ball with his back to Yaro. The man let out a sigh, patting the animal's back.

“Fine, you can pretend if you want. We all wish we could sometimes.”

Cat didn't come back the next day. Yaro didn't care, of course, he didn't even like the damn thing. He stuffed the cat bowls he bought at the nearby pet shop deep behind all his cluttered cooking pots and pretended they were never even there. For dinner, he ate dry sandwiches and drank disgustingly bitter tea because he forgot to take the tea bag out in time.

He sat on the couch, watching TV and drinking. A few times, his hand would lift mindlessly and he’d reach out to scratch something that wasn’t there.

Yaro turned off the TV, almost smashing the remote on the coffee table. His steps thumped on the floor dully as he walked to the balcony. The old lady across the yard was blasting religious radio again, the middle-aged couple was not there. Well, the woman was, crying with her face buried in her chubby hands. The buzzcut guy was in a fighting match with his father. Yaro looked at the middle-aged woman crying as he smoked. He inhaled so deeply the smoke burned his lungs and he coughed loudly, his eyes filling up with tears.

From the smoke, of course.

Later that night, the bed felt cold. He brought in another blanket from the living room, but it didn’t help. Eventually, after hours of tossing and turning Yaro fell into an uneasy sleep, his hand twitching at his side to scratch something that wasn’t there.

They fixed the light bulb. Yaro climbed the stairs feeling stupidly validated; he did pay the rent, after all, he deserved to have a working light bulb!

The bag in Yaro’s hand almost slipped out of his grasp when he made it to his floor.

“What happened to you?!” He hissed, crouching down by his doormat, looking at the little pathetic creature, the greyish brown fur speckled with red.

Without waiting for an answer, he scooped Cat up into his arms, the cat letting out a little pathetic meow, full of hurt.

“Kruva…!” Yaro muttered, dropping his keys and trying to retrieve them with one hand while cradling the cat to his chest with the other. His little furry body was shaking.

They fell into the apartment and Yaro kicked the door closed, his heart suddenly speeding up. Without even taking off his shoes, he rushed to place the cat on the couch. There was a chunk of skin missing from the cat’s right ear and there were bloody gashes on his tiny chest which moved up and down rapidly.

“What happened?” Yaro demanded, trying to touch the cat, but the damnable creature wouldn’t allow it, letting out a tiny hiss and jumping to its feet. Cat jumped off the couch. It stumbled a couple of steps but collapsed into a small heap on the carpet. Yaro noticed the cat couldn’t put any weight on his right back leg.

“Stop it, let me see” Yaro demanded.

Cat let out something between a hiss and a meow.

“That’s enough. Pretending is all fun and good, but you’re hurt. I need you to tell me what happened, so stop this farce.” Yaro demanded.

The cat looked up at him, the greenish-yellow eyes unreadable.

“Now.” Yaro demanded.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then the air began to vibrate slightly, or so it seemed. It suddenly got hot, incredibly so, the heat was so pleasant and overwhelming it seemed to fill Yaro entirely. He realised, out of nowhere, how exhausted he was. Closing his eyes was all he could think about, just for a second, even less than a second… When he came back to himself, the greenish-yellow eyes were still staring at him. Only, the face they were staring out of now was no longer a cat’s face.

There was a long moment of complete silence as Yaro and the naked man crouching on his carpet stared at each other. The moment was broken by the man wavering, clutching his side.

“What happened?” Yaro uttered.

“Can I have some clothes?” The man asked. His voice was slightly raspy but very soft. Somehow Yaro could tell that if he wasn’t on the brink of death his voice would be butter-smooth.

“Don’t you think it would be better to clean off that blood first?” Yaro suggested.

The man opened his mouth to respond, but his bright eyes lost focus and Yaro managed to catch him just before he fainted.

“Alright, that’s enough” he muttered. Without much effort, he took the man into his arms and carried him into the bedroom. He was really tiny. Short and skinny, way too skinny. His fragile body was shaking and Yaro tried swallowing the tightness in his throat.

After placing the man on the bed Yaro put a pair of boxers on him before starting to examine the injuries. There were deep, bloody gashes on his side, evidently dealt to him by another cat. Not only that, but his side was showing severe bruising. Yaro was no doctor, but it was easy to guess that he had at least one broken rib. There was blood on his neck and chest, but he soon realised it had dripped down from his mutilated ear. Without thinking much of what he was doing, Yaro climbed under the bed and retrieved the chest. Momentarily, he stopped, brushing his fingers over the beautiful botanical carvings on the dark wooden lid. The chest was full of small, meticulously labelled bottles. Each label was filled with his babushka’s handwriting and seeing that slanted, elongated handwriting made him feel a little more like himself.

With slightly shaky fingers he browsed the bottles, the sound of glass rubbing against glass was barely penetrating through the thumping of Yaro’s heart in his ears.

“Here you are, you fucker” Finally snatching the right bottle, Yaro sat next to the unconscious man on the bed and carefully opened it. A tiny sliver of smoke escaped and a thick, heavy aroma of herbs filled the bedroom. He tilted the bottle the slightest bit, his hand far from steady. A drop of dark liquid fell onto the first of the gashes on the man’s side and he let out a tiny groan.

“It’s fine, it will make you feel better, I promise…” Yaro ensured, letting another drop fall on the second gash.

After spreading the potion on each of the wounds and dressing them, Yaro pulled the covers over the man.

Feeling like he’d just aged twenty years, he stumbled onto the balcony and inhaled the cigarette smoke so aggressively it made him gag.

“Why couldn't I just adopt a regular fucking cat?!” Yaro groaned, wiping his watering eyes.

Yaro wasn't going to sleep on the couch, especially not because of a stupid cat. He was too tall to fit on it comfortably anyway. Carefully, he crawled over the unconscious man, pushing himself as close to the wall as he possibly could. He couldn’t help his curiosity and before turning off the light, he took a closer look at the sleeping figure.

It was impossible to tell how old he was; he might’ve been twenty, but he might’ve also been thirty. His hair was a shaggy mane of curls, the colour was brownish grey, the same as his fur. He had dark, beautifully arched eyebrows and long lashes that appeared slightly damp as they rested against his cheeks. Where he had white patches as a cat, in his human body there were birthmarks, visibly lighter than his slightly pinkish skin colour. One spread from his mouth down his chin and the other started at his neck and went down to his chest.

For a moment, Yaro put a gentle hand over the man's chest to check if he was breathing. Somehow, when he felt himself drifting away, the hand was still on his warm chest. The man was snoring softly, one could almost call those little rumbling sounds… purrs.

Waking up somehow felt different than usual. He was so warm and cosy, slightly sweaty, but in a pleasant, comfortable way. Yaro nuzzles himself against the shaggy hair pressed against his face…

Suddenly, the events of last night flooded back into his head and he jerked awake. The sudden movement woke up Cat and he jumped nearly half a meter into the air, instantly on guard. A hand slashed through the air and Yaro managed to cover himself just in time for the sharp fingernails to slash across his forearm, not his face.

“Hey, woah, easy, it’s me! You’re safe!” Yaro shouted, rubbing at the scratches on his arm.

Cat was crouching on the bed, teeth bare, the bandage Yaro put over his head to cover the mangled ear came loose and fell comically over his face. His yellowish-green eyes were wide and with their colour, how far away they were and the slightly almond shape Yaro struggled to imagine someone could possibly look more like a cat in a human body.

“Cat, it’s okay.” Yaro tried again, reaching out a hand.

Cat’s eyes dropped down from Yaro’s face to his arm. Slowly, he moved in closer, gently grabbing the arm with his. After a moment of examining it, he rubbed his cheek against the scratches.

“It’s okay, no big deal,” Yaro smiled gently, scratching the man behind the ear. Cat purred so softly Yaro barely heard it “Do you talk?”

Cat looked up at him again. After a moment of staring, he nodded. Yaro chuckled.

“Well, will you?” He asked with an amused smile.

“Thank you,” Cat said. As Yaro guessed the day before, his voice was butter-smooth. Somehow he could feel the undercurrent of a purr in every word. Cat suddenly seemed to realise he wasn’t in pain and grabbed onto his side, looking at it with obvious confusion. His human face was as expressive as his cat one.

“A healing potion,” Yaro explained.

Cat’s brows furrowed “You’re a witch?”

Yaro chuckled again “Don’t they teach you cats anything? Only women inherit magical abilities. I come from a long, long line of witches. My mother, grandmother, great-grandmother… You get it. I was the first son born in the family for centuries. I have no magical abilities myself, but I know a lot and I can prepare potions, but my grandmother has to magically infuse them.” Yaro stopped, feeling like he’d been talking for hours. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he said so many words at once.

Cat muttered something, pursing his lips “So that’s how you knew I wasn’t a regular cat.”

“You’re really shit at hiding it” Yaro smirked.

“Hey!” The man bristled.

“I’m Yaroslav, by the way. Yaro.” He outstretched a hand.

“Andrei,” Cat said, clasping the hand in a steel embrace. “Can we eat?”

Yaro laughed.

“You’re one hungry cat, aren’t you?”

Andrei shrugged philosophically.

Yaro stared as Andrei inhaled his third helping of ham sandwiches.

“What?” The man asked with his mouth full, hunched over the plate.

“I’m just wondering where all this food is going” Yaro said, sipping his tea, looking at the man’s skinny arms.

Cat’s eyes wondered “I don’t get to eat often” He mumbled, before stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Are you…” Yaro started, unsure if he should push it “Are you going to tell me what happened to you?”

Andrei gulped down half of his tea in one long sip. He glanced at Yaro but quickly looked away again.

“I tried to convince my father’s tribe to accept me.”

Silence fell. Yaro pursed his lips; he knew how territorial and close-knit the Wildcat tribes were. And how fucking racist, too. That was evident enough, judging by the amount of half-breeds on his babushka’s farm.

“There’s no more bread, but I can make you eggs if you’re still hungry,” Yaro suggested with a half-smile.

Cat looked up at him. His bright eyes twinkled and he flashed a wide smile at Yaro; his canine teeth were noticeably elongated.

“Yaroslv! Control this damnable animal!” Mrs Petrova was holding a tubby cat up in her outstretched hands “It tried to steal my hot dogs!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Petrova, cats, you know? They do what they want” He shrugged with a grin, accepting the cat into his arms.

“Does Mrs Morova know you have a cat? You better believe I’ll call her if you don’t control him!” Mrs Petrova called behind him, shaking her fist in the air after him.

“Did you have to?” He mumbled, carrying the cat up to his apartment.

“Meow” Andrei answered philosophically.

Yaro let out a resigned sigh. “Don’t be flippant or I’ll put you down and you’ll have to walk by yourself.”

“Meow!” Andrei objected loudly.

“I know, tubby.” Yaro grinned and swiftly avoided the paw directed at his nose.

He put the cat down before opening the door. As soon as they were inside an angry little man was standing in front of him, his fists clenched.

“Don’t call me tubby!” Andrei objected.

“Well,” Yaro crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the healthy layer of fat that had covered Andrei’s skinny frame since he’d decided to adopt Yaro as his own.

“I don’t like you” Andrei pursed his lips and sauntered away. Yaro couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of his decidedly more prominent ass jiggling with every step.

“Hey, come on, I’m sorry, tubby…” He said, running after him.

“You are so fucking rude!” Andrei’s mouth was agape with outrage.

Yaro shrugged, walking up closer, wrapping his arms around the smaller man to cup his fleshy ass.

“I never said it was a bad thing, did I? I think cats are way cuter when they’re fat” He smirked, leaning down to kiss Andrei’s grimacing face.

“I’m not fat!” He objected, pushing Yaro’s face away.

“Not yet, anyway,” Yaro said, squeezing his ass and enjoying the softness.

“Stop insulting me and go make me dinner, I’m hungry.”

Yaro laughed, leaning down again, kissing Andrei softly and then letting him go to obediently prepare food. By the time he was at the living room door, the tubby brown cat was already curled up in a furry ball, softly snoring on the couch.

“What the hell happened to you now?!” Yaro dropped the shopping bag on the table haphazardly. The jars in the bag knocked dangerously against one another, but he paid it no mind. Pickles were of significantly less importance than Andrei’s black eye and busted lip.

“Nothing, I’m fine” He muttered, swatting Yaro’s hand away.

“Like hell you are! Did you go to the tribe again?! Why do you keep trying, if they only hurt you, you stupid cat?” Yaro raged, not letting Andrei wiggle out of his grasp.

He swore under his breath as the air became overwhelmingly hot and seconds later he was fighting with a cat. Andrei slipped his grip and bolted it to the bedroom. With a heavy sigh, Yaro followed. When he opened the door Andrei was curled up into a bowl on the bed.

“Come on, talk to me…” Yaro pleaded, climbing onto the bed and smoothing the cat’s messy coat.

Moments later, he was resting his hand against a human shoulder. Andrei stubbornly remained facing the wall.

“I just want to have a tribe,” Andrei whispered so softly Yaro almost missed the pain in his voice.

He let out a sigh, wrapping the man in an embrace, rubbing circles with his thumb on his soft shoulder.

“You know, it’s one of the best parts of life that we get to choose our own tribe.” He kissed the naked shoulder.

“Are you saying you want to… Be my tribe?”

It made Yaro’s chest tight to hear the surprise in his voice.

“I already am, tubby.”

“Don’t call me that!” Andrei objected half-heartedly.

“It’s a good thing” Yaro said, rubbing Andrei’s soft belly that had not been flat in quite some time “It means you have someone to feed you. It means you belong to someone who takes care of you.”

Finally, Andrei turned around. His yellowish-green eyes were reddened with tears.

“I’m…” He bit his lip, looking away hesitantly.

“I know. Me too.” Yaro pressed his forehead to Andrei’s and closed his eyes, enjoying the low rumbling purr that escaped him.

“Are you going to make me dinner?” Andrei asked after a while.

Yaro laughed. Thank the Gods he didn’t adopt a regular cat.

#mmromance #paranormalromance #soft!feedism #mm

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