#they promise to lead him to some place stray cats like to go to give birth if he does

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

As it turns out, Danny makes a pretty good leader. His little gang of homeless children has grown immensely, both from picking up strays and from assimilating other gangs into his group.

Danny might only be 10 and still figuring out his powers but dang, intangibility and flight are over powered even before you add invisibility and laser blasts. At first he regretted sneaking into the lab alone to check out the portal his parents made in this basement. Waking up in a cold alley in a city you've never heard of is a terrifying experience even without the corrupt cops trying to sell you into human trafficking, but finding out he had powers and could do whatever he wanted? That was great. It no longer mattered that adults didn't listen to him or chased him around. He could do anything now. Be anything. Take anything.

He and the people under his protection often robbed places, never banks or anything but high class restaurants and stores that usually wouldn't even let them in through the front doors. Yeah, Danny can admit most of thier robberies were because of grudges the other kids had because of how they were treated but Danny being ten thought this was fine.

The real issue was Gothams Paw Patrol (who absolutely hate being called that :3 ) they were always on thier case, Dannys especially. They kept insisting that the system could help them -Danny called bull. No one helped him or Jazz back in Amity and it was waaaay nicer that Gotham- and kept getting him and his fellow kids arrested. That didn't really matter. Anti-meta stuff never worked on him so getting himself the other kids out was no big deal.

After overhearing a conversation between Nightwing and one of the other bats a kid came into thier current secret base announcing that Nightwing was poor and the other bats weren't. This caught everyone attention. Appearently Nightwing was trying to establish himself outside of the colony cause he didn't get along great with whoever the bats super daddy was, which was fair. A lot of them were runaways for one reason or another and knew a bunch of reasons why you wouldn't want to except "free" money.

This led to them fetching Nightwings "wingdings" and batarangs instead of keeping them/selling them like they do with the others, sharing some of thier spoils with him like the groceries, jewelry, fancy clothes, ect that they stole.

Dick even catches one of the kids in his apartment in Bludhaven filling up his fridge which has him panicking about his secret id being compromised. Luckly the kids had only followed him there and didn't think to check who was on the lease or anything cause they assumed it would be a fake name or something.

Just Dick getting forcibly adopted by a child gang.

[venusflytrapm]

Summer Wine - Dabi x Fem!Reader

a/n: I listened to ‘Summer Wine’ By Nancy Sinatra and it just spoke to me on another level. This is my first time posting my writing on here/even writing smut so enjoy eek. 

Warnings: PiV, one nightstand, alcohol consumption (just a drink of whiskey), Touya still has burns in this. Slight mention/alluding to abusive past (touya daddy issues), reader steals from dabi???? Sleeping with someone to steal from them??? Let me know if I'm missing anything.

MDNI 18+ 

W/C: 1.1k

Dabi (Touya) x Fem!Reader 

The wind takes Touya away, once a month. Usually after a raid.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen his family, let alone ate a full meal. When the breeze chills extra heavy, he thinks about where it’ll take him next.

Now he’s just finished a raid, Tomura doesn’t ask where he’s going when the jingle of Touya’s spurs grows more distant. Tomura’s just learned not to ask; the sound is inevitable. And Touya–Dabi, to Tomura–is like an outdoor cat, he’ll always come home. Wherever that may be.

The winds take Touya to a saloon a few towns over, the smell of liquor is heavy as he walks through the doors. He takes a seat at the bar, ignoring the shocked whispers from the bar-goers. He’s grown used to the stares and sounds from others, especially with his charred skin. 

He orders a glass of whiskey and searches his pockets for some cash. He takes a quarter, a dime, and a dollar out before placing the quarter on the bar counter.

He doesn’t say anything when the glass slides down to him, just grabs it and takes a swig. It seems the attention on him has died down, although the sound of whispers doesn’t stop. 

The doors to the saloon swung open again, just like they had before when Touya walked through. 

You were standing there smiling too brightly for the late hour it was. You took a few strides and sat on the stool beside Touya, giving him a grin. 

He raised a brow and went back to brooding in his glass. He couldn’t deny, that you did look awfully pretty in your tight dress with your hair all done up. And by the way the others were looking at you, it was clear you weren’t a regular either. 

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” You tell the bartender, taking out a quarter from your coin purse. 

Touya huffs a laugh from his nose. “You sure it won’t be too bitter for you, doll?” He looks over at you.

You’re already looking at him, with low-lidded eyes. “I’m sure, Mr…” You trail.

You don’t care what his name is, though. Not really. You’re more interested in those silver spurs, shining bright like promises of something more for yourself. You lean a little closer, brushing your arm against his, making sure he feels the heat between you.

“Jus’ call me Dabi, doll.” He says before taking his final gulp of whiskey. “What gave you the balls to come and sit next to a scary thing like me? Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” 

You smile, an amused look in your eyes. You simply cross your legs and take your glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching in the low light of the bar. “Well, most strangers don’t have spurs like yours.” You chide, taking a slow sip from your glass. 

Touya watches your lips kiss the glass for a long moment before looking down at his boots. The Spurs in question, he’s had since he was just a kid. An expensive pair, pure silver, his father had gotten him. He wonders why he still had them, especially since he’s left part of him in the past. 

“You look like you haven’t seen someone like me in a long time,” You hum. 

He smiles, his burnt skin stretching at the corners of his mouth. “And what might that mean?” 

You brush a stray hair from your shoulder and smile, something sly and knowing. “You just seemed lonely, and there’s a motel down the road.” You slide your hand down the bar and to his arm.

Touya can’t blush, his skin is too charred. But if he could, his cheeks would be red just from your touch alone. He lets out a small shaky breath and puts his hand over yours. “Lead the way, doll.”

And you do.

Maybe it was the liquid courage that made you both so reckless, stumbling into a vacant room at the motel after stealing a room key. Or maybe it was because Touya hadn’t felt the touch of a pretty thing in god knows how long. 

It didn’t matter now. no not when his hands were undoing your lowcut dress, letting it fall to the floor. In no time was he kicking off his boots with the same spurs you had complimented before. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread as you leaned back on your elbows. “Come, let me give you my summer wine.” You whispered. 

Touya’s just a man after all. His pants hit the floor and he stepped forward, taking you in a deep kiss. The taste of the bitter whiskey on both your tongues as they danced. 

The sounds he was making spurred you on even more, especially when his hands gripped your hips. You smiled against his lips and laid on your back. He tugged you closer by your hips, grinning down at your soft form. His hands spread your legs further if it was even possible, and he presses his cock against your wet slit. 

He revels in the way your eyes bulge when he pushes into your tight heat with no prep. And the moan he lets out is almost guttural. 

It isn’t long before the cheap motel bed is shaking, Touya’s sounds filling the room. It’s almost agonizing how your nails dig into his back, clawing for mercy as he thrusts into your core. 

He takes a handful of your tit, molding and squeezing the mound in his hold. You writhe beneath him, arching your back to every pound he gives between your legs. 

Touya’s head starts to feel hazy after he reaches his orgasm, his hips stutter and he doesn’t even ask if you’ve reached that same bliss. He feels a few movements from your end and then he’s off to sleep. 

The next morning, the sun is gleaming through the motel window, hitting Touya’s face. He let out a groan and clenched his head in his hands. The bed he was lying in felt emptier than it had the night before, not that he could remember much, and he reached over to feel the empty space.

Scents of strawberries lingered in the sheets, the smell flooded his mind with the memories from the night before. He knew you weren’t coming back. 

He grabs his shirt, pulls it over his head, and then reaches for his pants. His dollar and dime are missing but that doesn’t bother him.

He then tugs on his boots. And notices his silver spurs, the ones he thought got him so lucky in the first place, are gone. 

Banner by @/cafekitsune

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group H Round 1: #H4 vs #H5

#H4: Teen Shogi prodigy grows up and battles his mental health

Having reached professional status in middle school, Rei Kiriyama is one of the few elite in the world of shogi. Due to this, he faces an enormous amount of pressure, both from the shogi community and his adoptive family. Seeking independence from his tense home life, he moves into an apartment in Tokyo. As a 17-year-old living on his own, Rei tends to take poor care of himself, and his reclusive personality ostracizes him from his peers in school and at the shogi hall.

However, not long after his arrival in Tokyo, Rei meets Akari, Hinata, and Momo Kawamoto, a trio of sisters living with their grandfather who owns a traditional wagashi shop. Akari, the oldest of the three girls, is determined to combat Rei's loneliness and poorly sustained lifestyle with motherly hospitality. The Kawamoto sisters, coping with past tragedies, also share with Rei a unique familial bond that he has lacked for most of his life. As he struggles to maintain himself physically and mentally through his shogi career, Rei must learn how to interact with others and understand his own complex emotions.

#H5: Middle school soft tennis club deals with trauma

Constantly outperformed by the girls' club, the boys' soft tennis club faces disbandment due to their poor skills and lack of positive results in matches. In desperate need of members, Toma Shinjou is looking to recruit capable players, but he fails to scout anyone. Enter Maki Katsuragi, a new transfer student who demonstrates great reflexes when he catches a stray cat in his classroom, instantly capturing Toma's attention. With his interest piqued, Toma ambitiously asks Maki to join the boys' team but is quickly rejected, as Maki doesn't wish to join any clubs. Toma refuses to back down and ends up persuading Maki—only under the condition that Toma will pay him for his participation and cover other club expenses.

As Maki joins the team, his incredible form and quick learning allow him to immediately outshine the rest of the team. Although this gives rise to conflict among the boys, Maki challenges and pushes his fellow team members to not only keep up with his seemingly natural talent, but also drive them to devote themselves to the game they once neglected.

Titles, propagandas, trailers, and poll under the cut!

#H4: March Comes in Like a Lion (Sangatsu no Lion)

Propaganda:

Sangatsu no Lion is a series that gets praise and has some awards, but it gets rarely talked about. It’s ranked highly on anime lists as being a good anime to watch, but there’s little fan engagement or video essays about it like other promising titles.

Maybe it's because the series is a slow-paced slice-of-life drama that goes over topics like mental health and the trauma of losing loved ones at a young age, and how those factors impacts the lead deeply.

Rei is a hard character to watch sometimes. He’s a doormat, shy and quiet, with crippling low self-esteem. He’s a social outcast. He puts a lot of burden on his own shoulders and blames himself for living up to people’s expectations. He’s a flawed and traumatized teenager forced to grow up too quickly.

Rei lives isolated, and that's how we're introduced to him. He has a strained relationship with his adoptive family. He has trouble interacting with his classmates. He has a few tentative friendships with the people he plays Shogi against, but Rei struggles to connect with others. It doesn't help that he feels pressured by the expectations placed on him as the fifth ever Shogi player to go pro in middle school, making him a prodigy. He's losing multiple matches and stagnating, struggling because of his mental health taking a downward spiral.

When Rei meets the Kawamoto girls, his life seems to get better. Rei initially doesn't want to get to close to the Kawamoto family for fear of rejection, but he ends up visiting often. With them, he receives the care and affection he never had in his foster home. He also learns to socialize and rely on others with his interactions with the Kawamotos, growing as a person.

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Mild child neglect from adopted family, death of birth family, healing from mental health issues.

The plot revolves around Rei and him trying to cope with the stress of life and growing as a person. A part of this is him having to make peace with the trauma of losing his biological family and having a strained relationship with his adoptive family, who are neglectful and bitter towards him. The anime overall goes over Rei healing from his mental health issues, including battling his anxiety and issues with self-worth.

#H5: Stars Align (Hoshiai no Sora)

Propaganda 1:

Covers a wide variety of issues and gets into the nitty-gritty of the often under-prosecuted instances of child abuse in Japanese society. Multiple LGBT characters, subversions of gender roles, a simple but appealing art style, and some really talented seiyuu to top it all off.

Propaganda 2:

This series is so amazing even though it was cut halfway through (and the trigger warnings, mainly in regard to the environments many of the characters live in) make it difficult to suggest at times. It’s half a sports anime and half a drama, switching between the sports sections and explorations of the lives of the characters involved, the latter of which is the part I really adore. The story discusses the heavily discussed topic of abuse pretty well and also has a good handle on discussions about things like gender (specifically in regard to a canon non-binary character, though there is also a minor character who is a trans man who is also discussed) that I haven’t seen too many other series address, or at least not to the effectiveness of this story. The characters also just have so much charm and compliment each other well, and I love watching them get closer and interact. They’re buddies, and I adore the boys soft tennis team plus Yuu and Mitsue (+ Arashi I guess. He’s from a different school’s team and directly opposed the team, but he very quickly becomes their friend afterwards), as well as all of their dynamics. It’s not a watch for when you’re looking strictly to have a fun time or looking for a complete story, but it’s an amazing story regardless. Also, I love the opening and ending songs so much. I wish this series got its season two so much because it’s so good, I don’t think I did it justice at all.

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Gender Identity/Sexuality Discrimination

If you’re reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

[typicalstories]

❀ *◦ park jaehyung. cis man. he/him. queer. ⇝ hey, isn’t that song kitae? i think that the thirty-one year old from vancouver, canada works as a vocalist and the lead guitarist for the rock band nexu5 and temp instrument player at the scaredy cat club, but outside of that people describe them as pulling at the ties that bind, idyllic dreams crushed like rose petals, when the door closes - a lifetime of regrets return to you, never knowing the feeling of satisfaction, & silver tongue and silver knives. i hear they are facetious & irascible, but they are also known to be audacious & unreserved. consider giving them a visit at their home in delilah’s den gated community and get to know why they’re called the insurgent.

stats / pinterest / playlist / profile

disclaimer: all of the gifs found on this blog are mine, made from scratch. please do not save, repost, use or claim as your own.

BASICS

full name: song kitae

age: 31 years old

date of birth: april 27, 1993

hometown: vancouver, canada

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

sexuality: queer

occupation: lead guitarist and vocalist of nexu5, temp instrument player at the scaredy cat club

spoken languages: korean, english, japanese

parents: song eunjeong (mother), song mansoo (father)

siblings: song minkyu (younger brother), song danbi (younger sister)

BACKGROUND

TWS for car accident, mental health, substance abuse, violence

song kitae was born in the beautiful city of vancouver, canada, to two renowned businesspeople; he would come to be the first in the family to have a musical aptitude. it wouldn't be long before his parents discovered the fact, as well as how he'd stray from their desired path... by a long shot. being old fashioned and strict, with a blue-collar type of vibe, their firstborn was a handful that they weren't expecting.

owning businesses in vancouver, as well as sunny los angeles, the family spent a lot of time between both cities. his childhood was fairly normal, but after some time of misbehaviour in school, lacking grades and general defiance, kit would be diagnosed with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, only after several urges from the school’s counsellor to seek out a diagnosis for him. this, and the way the kid had an obsession with music, threw the couple for a bit of a loop.

it wasn’t until he was ten that his parents finally bought him a guitar, with the promise of him keeping good grades. as it went, he had a natural gift, along with his voice. though they weren’t keen at first, they agreed to put him in lessons—and he kept his promise.

two years later, they moved to south korea to help family who needed financial help. kit’s life continued on normally, until he was fifteen, when he was street cast by a scouting agent while playing the guitar and singing with his friends in a park. as you can guess, this excited him beyond belief. he had never built up the courage to audition, mostly due to his parents and how they’d react. after some discussion (and a lot of hesitation), they let him go on with the auditions, which he passed without any surprises. 

his trainee life was challenging, and it would take some time for him to find his NEXU5 pals, definitely defying some of the rules and standards as he drifted along. the strict schedules were hard to follow, especially with his adhd, and there reached a point where he wasn’t sure he could keep up, or more so, if he even wanted to. however, the company being aware of his musical talent, came to him with a proposition: there was a concept they had begun putting together brought upon by another trainee named boo jonghyeon—their first band.

like clockwork, everything fell into place. the boys would form a quick bond with each other, their musical abilities coming together flawlessly. NEXU5 became everything, and kit was so glad that he didn’t give up. although the public was unsure about the concept, their debut was a success, and kit went on with a blazing passion, his natural boyish charm easily winning hearts.

and then came the bad. having spent the day out with one of his bandmates, jonghyeon, the pair had gotten into a fight, which to this day kit regrets initiating. the younger ended up leaving for their shared home early, putting an end to their activities, and kit would follow about fifteen minutes later in his own car. on the way back, he was rerouted due to a severe accident.

he’ll never forget the moment he learned it was their maknae in that totalled car, the panic attack and screaming that ensued burned into his memory. unbeknownst to him, not having looked at the rest of endless calls and messages, his bandmates were already on their way to the hospital—but thankfully, someone found him, helped him to his feet and got him to where he needed to be.

the primary focus was jonghyeon’s recovery. it didn’t take too long for people to start talking, as extremely disrespectful to the youngest’s situation as it was unsurprising. word got out that the two had a fight beforehand, and before the first week had even gone by, knetz would be blaming kit for the incident, and while the company did its best in removing everything negative people had to say about it, it quickly reached a point where they were swarming in person.

while the rest of his bandmates knew composure, song kitae had never been known for holding his tongue. on his way out of the hospital, he reached his breaking point, the slander and just complete lack of respect for his bandmate thrown in his face being the final straw. kit ended up snapping at the men behind the cameras, and all they did was goad as he yelled at them, and the recorded situation gone viral ended with three broken cameras and a broken nose delivered by yours truly. honestly? it was iconic of him.

it would result in him getting sued, but his lawyers and the company handled it efficiently, managing for the situation to be settled outside of court. kit had his issues with the kpop industry, but the way that everyone showed so much support provided comfort that hadn’t been there before. the press came to understand it well: don’t mess with kit and his band.

all in all, he’s a loveable little firecracker. individualistic and generally very friendly, but has his moments—his temper is something that’s relatively fragile. he hates adhering to the norm, despises it even, and won’t take shit from anyone, bosses and executives included.

HEADCANONS

social media fiend. don't ask him about his screen time on tiktok, it's an embarrassing amount. a very tech-savvy person; knows his way around the dark web and would probably jailbreak things for you if you asked him to. naturally, he also loves videogames, most of his downtime spent logging hours on his pc, either on stream or off.

has no problem telling someone if they're being a shitass or disrespectful in any way, he just calls shit out for what it is. the amount of times he's bitched about the industry and such is immeasurable, he's definitely happy to be away from the toxicity of the idol scope in south korea, which you'd probably hear about if you lend an ear.

big nerd. just a huge nerd. loves his collectables and trading cards and has spent an ungodly amount of money on these things. ask him about any of it and he'll ramble for hours and show you his collections if you don't stop him.

he can and will hold a grudge. doing him wrong or getting on his bad side is basically set in stone for life once it's done. this is something jonghyeon is helping him with... somewhat successfully? who knows. he's definitely trying.

fiercely protective. he'd break more noses for his loved ones if he had to.

HUGE CAT LOVER. babies his cats so much. those are his children.

hosts his own podcast biweekly, unplugged at 24:00: what the hell am i doing? recorded at midnight, discussing various and random topics, answering questions submitted by fans, etc. has guests on sometimes as well, and is uploaded on both youtube and spotify for audio listeners.

during his spiral when the world turned on him, he fell into substance abuse, a pit of self-hatred that he found his way out of with the help of his bandmates. it has been just over a year since he used, and he's very careful about not entering environments that could possibly trigger another relapse.

loud and chaotic. putting him and nikolai together is basically begging for all hell to break loose.

[rivthewriter]

For the WIP ask game, I'm really intrigued by "The land of the tender incident" (sounds like TGFC and HuaLian?? Maybe smut?!) and "The Untold Story".

Please enlighten me as to what these are about 😍🙏🏼😊

Hi hi! I'm so glad you chose these two! And thank you for asking! I completely forgot The Land Of The Tender Incident was listed in there tbh, and no worries of getting the name mixed up (I saw your other ask <3) I do that too, especially with the titles of my own works. it is indeed tgcf but, instead of hualian, its Mu Qing and Feng Xin, because im a little goober who loves the 'angsty cat type guy falls for the dog type guy he keeps hissing at' tropes, its not written too far, in all honesty idk if it'll ever even see the light of day (and it def wont remain that title. its just titled that so i remember what fandom its from lmao) But its around post tgcf, where the two of them have to investigate claims of some form of unrest just within the boundaries of both of their domains, They're arguing the *whole time* and end up not paying attention to whats going on around them (cuz they're too busy butting heads), and MQ ends up accidentally disturbing the beginning blooms of the land of tender, and it sends this, pollen/scent into the air (as it does) and the rest goes on from there >:3 The event leads MQ to accidentally letting it slip that just maybe he liked FX for quite a long time but always had a hard time accepting it or showing it because their rivalry was.. *fun* for him. They both knew how to get under eachother's skin after all.. and hey, even though they fight all the time they did seem to get along besides it.. for the most part.. I'm unsure if i want the smut to be during that incident or shortly after because i want to milk the angst and frustration aspect of it >:3 If i had to give a sneak peek.. well I leave you with this short section (which one day may be slightly adjusted since i wrote this at like. 4 am):

"...His Highness dealt with this before and made it through it without doing anything too.. strange.. you can make it through this too" Feng Xin replied, glancing at the other martial god, the light was starting to go down, casting shadows into the run-down building, they were lucky to have found it... despite the circumstances.

"He stabbed himself in the stomach with a sword to keep himself from breaking his cultivation. I'm not about to do that. My cultivation matters but for fucks sake I'm not that insa-" Mu Qing got cut off by a sharp shudder running through him "Insane." he finished, gritting his teeth.

And onto A Tale Untold! <3 A Tale Untold is a wip for Fragile Dreams, which is an older wii game that not many people know about. It takes place after the story of the game, years down the road, when Seto, the protagonist, stumbles upon a man suspended in a preservation tank, he then manages to release the man, and discovered that this stranger has no memory of how he got in there, why, or even what his name was. So, he dubbed the stranger 'Starling' and promised to help him recover his past. Chapter one is up on my ao3 (thankfully i beat the writers block for that chapter) and chapter two is in the works, its a sorta fix-it future fic where i decided "yknow what. this character didnt need to die in canon. im bringing him back and no one can stop me" I will say, this one is one of my favorites to just, sit down and brainstorm for. though if you ask my friends on discord you will find that I've had like, thorough discussions about "is this ethical? what about this? does the science behind this make any sense?" as if this isn't just a silly goofy fanfic im writing for the hell of it lmao

And i will give you a small sneak peek at chapter two! (and of course, it is subject to change, im constantly rewriting my stuff) :

Starling’s behavior stressed Seto out beyond measure, he was constantly worried Starling would fall and injure himself, or come face to face with some rabid, stray animal. But stress wasn’t the only feeling that had been bubbling in Seto. An odd sense of familiarity was building, each time he would chance a glance at Starling he would see a familiar flash of a multi-color coat, a yellow scarf.. It would make Seto pause for a moment, chest tightening. He didn’t really know why Starling reminded him of the friend he had forgotten.. The one who gave him the ring he couldn't bear to part with for even a second. Perhaps it was their happy-go-lucky natures that seemed similar.. Or their thrill-seeking behavior..  Starling and Crow were just.. *so* similar.

[blu-joons]

When You’re A Cat Person ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

A sigh escaped Jin as he felt your hand slip out of his, looking across to see you kneeling down in an attempt to beckon over the cat you found.

“Y/N, we’re going to be late,” Jin reminded you, watching as the cat tentatively walked across to you, purring away.

“I’ll only be a couple of minutes,” you promised Jin, looking back to him with a wide smile, “I can’t ignore this little guy.”

Jin’s arms folded across his chest, “he didn’t come over to you, you encouraged him over to us.”

Your shoulders shrugged, tickling your hand underneath the stray cat’s chin. “Stop being so grumpy, a couple of minutes won’t make much difference. This little guy deserves a little bit of attention, he’s a sweetie.”

“I’m a sweetie but I don’t get your attention like this,” Jin pouted, slowly beginning to start walking along the street again.

“You’re not a cat,” you teased back to Jin, “you can start walking but I’m not leaving, I’ll catch you up if that’s how you want to be.”

“Alright, I guess that I can wait for you.”

Yoongi:

Your eyes widened back at Yoongi, shaking your head in disbelief as he spoke, finding yourself unable to say anything in reply.

“There, I said it, dogs are better than cats,” Yoongi shrugged, holding his hands up in the air to protest his innocence.

“Are you insane?” You quizzed in reply to him, “cats are literally a thousand times better than dogs, they’re so much cuter.”

Yoongi’s head carried on shaking, “would you say that to Holly’s face that cats are cuter?”

Your head nodded straight away in response, “I’d say it to Holly because it’s true. Cats are just the sweetest things in the world, don’t get me wrong, dogs are alright, but you can’t even compare them, Yoongi.”

“You’re so wrong,” he groaned, throwing his head back, “you can’t even take a cat for a walk like you can a dog.”

“You can if that’s what you really want to do,” you joked, “I’ve seen people walking their cats with leads before.”

“They’re still not as good as dogs.”

Hoseok:

A sigh came from Hobi as you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the aisle of the market, knowing that it was only a matter of time.

“Let’s try and not spend all day here,” Hobi pleaded with you, almost completely ignored by you as you looked at the aisle.

“I just want to look at getting Y/C/N a new toy, or two,” you told him, assuring Hobi that you wouldn’t take too long.

He hummed behind you, “you’ve said that before and we’ve ended up being here hours.”

Your eyes rolled as he took a step back to be able to watch you browse. “You’re so dramatic, we’ve never spent more than an hour down the cat aisle. It’s just hard to choose sometimes when they’re so many nice things.”

“Why don’t you just buy all of them in one go to save having to keep coming back?” Hobi suggested, but your head shook.

“It’s one of my favourite parts of shopping,” you reminded him, “every time I come shopping, I take something back for Y/C/N.”

“I don’t even get anything brought for me.”

Namjoon:

Your eyes snapped around to look at Namjoon in surprise as he spoke, placing your hand on his chest to be able to look at him properly.

“What do you reckon?” He laughed, getting an even better reaction from you than he thought that he would.

“You really want to look into adopting a cat?” You grinned, nudging his side, “this isn’t going to be some cruel joke is it Joon?”

His head shook in reply, “I’m being serious, we’re at the perfect time to look at adopting.”

Your head nodded to give him a response to his question, unable to hide your smile. “I’d love to adopt a cat, there’s so many cute ones that I constantly see at the shelter, their little faces are the cutest.”

“We’d have to look at how well they get on with Moni, but I think we can make it work,” Namjoon noted back to you.

“You see dogs and cats getting on all the time,” you smiled, “we’ll be like those cute pet families that you see online sharing photos.”

“One step at a time maybe Y/N.”

Jimin:

A hum of confusion came from Jimin as he walked into your bedroom, taken aback by the number of cat items that he found scattered around.

“It’s fair to say that you’re a big fan of cats then,” Jimin laughed, taking a good look around at all the things he found.

“I meant to change my bedding before you got here,” you confessed, looking at the cat print on it, “at least to something more romantic.”

Jimin’s head shook back across at you, “it’s what you like, you shouldn’t change it for me.”

You smiled appreciatively back across at him as Jimin began to look through some of the cat ornaments that you had up too. “How long has it taken you to get all of these and put them up around your room?”

“A long time,” you laughed, “if there’s one bonus, I’m very easy to buy for when it comes to birthdays, just so you know.”

“I’ll bare that in mind,” Jimin grinned, placing what he had in his hands back down, “I definitely wasn’t expecting to see all of this.”

“It’s fair to say I like my cats.”

Taehyung:

His brows knitted together as you brought Taehyung across to where your cat was eating, watching as he tentatively walked towards him.

“I’m not sure about this Y/N, he’ll probably be able to smell Yeontan on me,” Taehyung admitted, kneeling down.

“He won’t be able to tell it’s Yeontan,” you encouraged, kneeling down too. “All you have to do is just reach out and stroke the top of his head.”

Taehyung slowly began to reach out, “I can’t remember the last time I stroked a cat.”

You struggled to hold back your laughter as Taehyung nervously began to brush in between your cats ears. “In no time at all I’ll convert you into more of a cat person, Y/C/N is the perfect cat for you to fall in love with.”

“You’ll never be able to make me more of a cat person than a dog person,” he assured you, “I’m just being friendly to him.”

“Cats aren’t that bad,” you laughed, “do you remember telling me that when I was scared to meet Yeontan for the first time?”

“Dogs are still better anyway.”

Jungkook:

His eyes watched in awe as your cat nuzzled into the palm of your hand, beginning to settle down in your lap almost as soon as they arrived.

“That’s so not fair,” Jungkook huffed as he watched, “I try all the time to get her to sleep on me, but she’s never interested.”

“You just don’t have the touch yet,” you teased, watching your cat lay her head down, “it just takes a little bit of practice, that’s all.”

Jungkook’s head shook back at you, “you’re just too good with cats, I’m rubbish with them.”

Your head began to shake too as Jungkook berated himself, “Y/C/N is still getting used to you, it just takes a little bit of adjustment. I’ve had years of being around cats, I know exactly what they like and dislike.”

“I know that Y/C/N doesn’t like me,” he mumbled under his breath, “she couldn’t sit any further away from me if she tried.”

“Stop being dramatic,” you laughed back across at him. “Maybe I could try and get her to sit with you more, show you some of my tricks.”

“It’s got to be worth a try.”

---

Masterlist

[digitalideae]

Cat Days (xyx fanfic)

You glance at your watch for what feels like the millionth time today, before letting out an exasperated sigh. Xyx was supposed to pick you up from the airport 15 minutes ago. You wonder if he got stuck in traffic, overslept, or both. The thought of him tangled up in his sheets and snoring the day away was enough to bring a smile to your face, allowing you to relax somewhat. The two of you agreed to alternate visiting one another, and while you were hesitant at first, Xyx promised to be at the airport to greet you as soon as you arrived.

You never did well in crowds—you’ll be the first to admit that; so it’s safe to say that airports aren’t exactly your thing. You weren’t a big fan of how much noise there was, nor were you a fan of how big the place was. It wasn’t your first time at this airport—you’ve been here a few times whenever it was your turn to visit Xyx, though it was still unfamiliar territory. You wonder if you accidentally went to the wrong gate, or if you told him you were arriving at a later time, though these fears were quickly suppressed upon seeing a familiar brunet walking towards you with a cheeky grin.

“Hey there, doll,” he greets you with a hug, his warmth causing your heart to skip a beat. “Sorry I’m late, I— er, overslept.”

“I had a feeling you did,” you tease, wrapping your arms around him. He pulls away and shoots you a pout. “Awe, baby. You’re breaking my heart, here.”

Tightening the straps of your bag, you reach up for him and give him a small peck on the lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you laugh, before taking his hand in yours. “Now let’s go, you know how I feel about airports. I’m also a little hungry.”

“You must be tired, too. Don’t worry, you’ll be nice and comfy in my bed soon enough,” he winks. You feel a warmth settling on your cheeks as he walks back the way he came with you, hand in hand.

You exit the airport and make your way to the parking lot. It doesn’t take long to spot Xyx’s motorcycle. He tosses you your helmet before putting his own on and hops on the bike. You do the same and wrap your arms around him tightly. He turns his head and looks at you as he kicks the stand up.

“You ready?” he asks. You nod in response.”I’m ready.”

He grins, revving the engine a little before taking off. You press your head against his back as he zooms past traffic with ease. You’re just happy you can feel his warmth again. It’s been a while since you last saw each other in person, so you take this opportunity to just hold him while the two of you ride back to his apartment.

About half an hour later, he turns into a side street that opens into a parking lot. He parks in front of his building, and the two of you get off the bike. You remove your helmet, brushing some of the hair off of your face. Xyx walks up to you and raises your chin to look at him. You notice a light pink dusting his cheeks as he smiles warmly at you.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses, before brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. “It’s just not the same without you here, ya know?”

You nod, letting out a small sigh. “Trust me, I was thinking the same thing. But I’m here now!” you reassure him. “I’m just glad I was able to get a longer time off.”

“So am I. Now,” he takes you by the hand once more. “Before we get all sappy in the parking lot, let’s go inside. I’m sure Cat wants to see you.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “That sounds like a good idea. I missed Cat.”

He leads you up to his apartment and unlocks the door. He opens it and steps aside for you to enter. Once you’re inside, you’re greeted with a banner that reads, “WELCOME HOME BABY!” written in black marker with doodles of cats sprawled all over. On either side of the banner rests a few balloons, with some containing messages like, “I missed you,” and “You’re pretty cute.” The gesture makes your heart skip a beat once more.

You turn around as Xyx closes the door behind him. You’re unable to get a word in before he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and tight.

“I thought I’d surprise ya a little, babe. I was a little late since I had to get everything all nice and clean. I woke up pretty early today, you see,” he says, his tone somewhat teasing you at the very end. “Do you like it?”

You snake your arms around him and rub tiny circles on his back, looking up at him with a smile. “I love it, and I love you, Xyx.”

He slowly leans in, stopping a few inches short from your face. “And I love you, love,” he whispers, before closing the gap between him and you and sealing your lips with his.

You feel something brush against your leg. Pulling away you look down and see Cat, meowing and rubbing against you. “Yes, yes,” you laugh. “I also love you too, Cat.”

Yes, there was no place you wanted to be more than in the arms of your cheeky lover and his cat. They were your home.

[dreamerstreamer]

Slip Up

Pairing: Dream / Clay x f!reader

Summary: One literal slip up leads to another and, well—it isn’t pretty.

Warning: includes depictions of anxiety as a result of exposure

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: requested by an anon who wanted something about a secret relationship! i hope you enjoy! on a more serious note though, don’t harass your creators and the people they care about. seriously, don’t.

With one last click, Clay let out a sigh, grabbing his headphones and setting them down on his desk. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the still clip on his monitor with a hint of a frown tugging at his lips.

After two long hours, he was officially tired of listening to George’s screams ringing through his ears. Sure, they were funny in the heat of the moment when he was recording, but having to listen to the same screams on loop while editing?

He shivered.

No thanks. He needed a break.

Grabbing his phone, he pushed open the door to his studio and headed for the stairs. I wonder where [Y/N] is, he thought to himself as he climbed the basement stairs two at a time. It’s been a while since I last caught a glimpse of her.

Surfacing on the first floor, he stuck his head into the living room, glancing around for a brief moment only to deduce that you weren’t there. With a huff, he spun on his heel. If she’s not there, he thought, his strides confident and full of purpose, then she’s definitely in—

He stepped into the kitchen, his gaze landing on your figure half-tucked behind the open fridge door almost instantaneously. He smiled. Bingo.

Slowly, he crept forward, slipping around the kitchen island to silently walk up to you. Before you even noticed he was there, he leaned down next to your ear and whispered.

“Boo.”

Letting out a sharp yell, you whirled, your wide eyes practically drowning in the amusement filling Clay’s emerald gaze as he let out a long wheezing laugh. “Clay!” you gasped, holding a hand over your heart. “You scared me, oh my god.”

His wheezing only grew louder in volume as he slapped his knee, still cackling at your distraught expression. Puffing your cheeks in a pout, you turned your back to him, staring back into the fridge. “Meanie.”

Struggling to regain his breath, Clay leaned in to wrap his arms around your waist in a hug from behind. You could feel his chest shaking against your back with laughter, beginning to slowly die down with each passing second. A moment later, he dipped his head down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Sorry,” he hummed. “I just thought it’d be funny to make you jump.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “I was right. It was.”

“Not for me,” you grumbled, and he let out the tiniest of wheezes next to your ear. 

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, kissing your neck. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you all morning.”

You relaxed into his warm touch, melting into the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. Sending him a tired smile, you closed the fridge door and focused your attention onto him. “I’m alright, but I’m feeling kind of tired,” you admitted. “You get kind of sick of working on an assignment after the third, you know?”

He snuggled closer to you, smiling into your neck. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t know, but I understand your point.”

You rolled your eyes at him, leaning back into his figure. “Right, I forgot that you didn’t go to college, Mr. Streamer.”

Clay laughed at your words. “You’re just that much smarter than me, then.” He poked at your cheek affectionately. as he cooed, “Look at you, my super smart college student girlfriend.”

You turned in his arms to face him, frowning at him. “Clay, you say that like you aren’t considered to be one of the best, if not the best Minecraft player in the world. Give yourself some more credit.”

He brushed a stray hair away from your face, his gaze fond as he held you a little closer. “Okay, but only because you told me to.”

You snorted, sinking deeper into his arms. “If your followers could see you now, I’m sure they’d be spamming ‘simp’ in chat.”

He chuckled. “They already do that whenever I hang out with George—I can’t even imagine to what extent it would increase if they knew about you.”

You offered him a smile, but it felt forced. The question had been swirling in the back of your mind for a little while now, and it was just sitting on the tip of your tongue, now. You had to ask now, or it would devour you alive.

“Hey, um, Clay,” you said, your tone shifting as you fidgeted slightly in his embrace. “Do you—do you think we’ll ever tell people and your fans about, well—” You gestured to the space between the two of you. “—about us?”

He paused for a moment, then let out a soft breath. “I want to,” he said. “Oh man, you don’t know just how badly I want to share you with the whole world and show them you’re mine.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, your lips instinctively curling up at his words.

“But I don’t think they’re ready for that just yet,” he added in a wistful tone. He pulled back, sending you a crooked smile. “How about we cross that bridge when we get there? I know that when we do get around to it, they’re gonna love you as much as I do, I promise.”

You bobbed your head, feeling the anxiety in your gut disintegrate. “Okay. Thanks, Clay.”

He reached up to ruffle your hair, cooing at the small whine you let out. “Anything for you.”

Knocking his hand off your head, you grinned at him. “On another note, what have you been up to? Instead of sleeping in late, of course, you lucky butt.”

He swayed back and forth, bringing you along with him. “I spent a lot of time editing some videos that are still in the works. I’m gonna be streaming for a few hours in a bit, though. If you need anything, you know where you can find me.” He grabbed your hand in his, fiddling with your fingers with a slight squeeze. “Are you still gonna be working on your assignment later, or will I be allowed to bother you?”

Your mouth twitched at his pouty tone, and you squeezed his hand back. “I actually might go out to the grocery store. Patches’s cat food is on sale, so I might stock up on that, and I kind of wanted some snacks for studying. Was there anything you wanted while I was gone?”

He hummed, thinking for a moment. “Not really, to be honest.” Slipping his hand into yours, he began leading you to the front of the house. “Here, let me see you off.”

You felt your heart swell with love as he handed you your bag from where it hung on the coat rack while you laced up your shoes. Clay was always so attentive to you and your needs, never failing to make sure you had everything you needed at the drop of a hat. You were really too lucky to have him.

“Do you have your mask?” he asked when you stood up.

With a nod, you fished it out from your pocket, waving it in your hands. “Mhm.”

He smiled. “Awesome.” Opening his arms, he pulled you in for one last hug, inhaling the scent of your flowery shampoo before swinging the door open and watching you step outside, car keys in hand.

“I’ll be back soon!” you cried, waving to him from the driveway.

He waved back, leaning against the doorframe. “See you!” he called back. “Take care out there.”

“I will!”

His viridian gaze trailed after you and your car as you sped off down the road, knowing all too well exactly which radio station you had inevitably turned on. Well, no matter. He supposed it was time to stream, now. Locking the door behind him, Clay strode down to the basement, sliding into his desk chair with his hand on his mouse. Slipping his headphones over his head, he rolled his shoulders and opened up Twitch. 

Taking one last deep breath, he grinned and pressed the ‘start streaming’ button. 

“Hey, guys!”

You grunted as you pushed the front door open, sliding your shoes off as you heaved the last sack of cat food onto the ground with a loud thud. 

And that’s all three. Finally.

Pushing the door closed using your foot, you placed your hands on your hood in determination.

Now, to get them downstairs.

You grimaced, glaring down at the offending bags. This was going to sooo much fun.

Some things never ceased to amaze you. Like how smart Clay was, even as dorky as he could be. Like how fast he blown up. Like how much you loved him.

And like how much cat food Patches managed to eat without getting fat.

Seriously, you thought to yourself with a grumble, how does she still look the same even though she goes through a whole bag of cat food in like... two weeks? It’s just not fair.

“I wish I had your metabolism,” you muttered, shooting a glare at the feline in question.  “You suck.”

Patches was perched on the stair railings a few feet away from you, grooming her paws. The moment you spoke her name, she lifted her head to look at you, her ears flicking. You stared at each other for a few seconds before she let out a soft meow, jumping down to rub against your leg.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” you murmured to yourself, your heart swelling in your chest at the feeling of her nuzzling her small head against your calf. “I could never hate you. You’re too cute.”

You turned your attention back to the three sacks of cat food you now had in your possession. Patches’s domain mostly consisted of the basement, where you kept her toys and costumes. Consequently, that’s where the cat food was also stored, albeit out of sight so that Patches wouldn’t get any ideas. Like her owner, she had a penchant for mischief, but you loved them both anyways.

The main problem here was getting the cat food down the stairs. 

I’m a strong independent woman, you thought to yourself with a small smile. Also, Clay is streaming, so I can’t ask him for help even if I wanted to. Bending over, you hoisted the first sack into your arms. That’s okay, though. A few stairs can’t stop me.

Taking a deep breath, you trudged toward the basement, carefully taking the stairs one step at a time down. The last thing you wanted was to trip while carrying the cat food of all things.

Unfortunately, it seemed that you jinxed yourself.

Everything went fine for the first two bags, each sack having safely made their way onto their proper spot on their designated cabinet shelf. Each time you tread down the stairs, you would take a quick peek over at Clay’s recording studio, smiling to see him amicably chatting with his viewers while completing another speedrun. With a smile on your face, you climbed the stairs once more to come face to face with your final obstacle.

You grinned despite your arms aching from having done so much heavy lifting. Last bag. Let’s go.

Rolling up your sleeves, you began the same process you had been running with for the past two trips: pick up the bag and head down the stairs, making sure to step carefully. 

What you hadn’t accounted for, though, was Patches’s presence.

You were just about halfway down the stairs when Patches darted in front of you. With a soft yelp, you stepped back to avoid her, letting her bounce down the stairs ahead of you. A brief breath of relief escaped your lips, but it was short lived. 

Just then, your sock’s grip on the floor gave out, and you felt gravity wrap a hand around your ankle.

Oh, crap.

A shout tore its way out of your throat as as you tumbled forward, landing on the ground with a resounding crash. Beside you, the bag of cat food smacked into the wall and landed with a loud crunch. 

That can’t be good, you vaguely thought, your mind fogged up by a cloud of pain.

Just a few rooms over, Clay froze mid-stream, his mouse coming to a halt as his entire body went stiff. Without even thinking to mute himself, he tore his headphones off his head, your name flying from his lips in a flurry of worry as he rushed out the room.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N], are you okay?”

On the ground, you winced, pain shooting up your side as you pulled yourself forward. In an instant, Clay was on the ground by your side—one hand on the small of your back helping you sit up, the other brushing your hair away from your face.

“[Y/N],” he breathed, panic seeping into his face as his eyes scanned every inch of your face for harm, “are you good?” You nodded, but it did nothing to ease the worry in his expression. “Tell—tell me.” He held three fingers in front of your face. “How many fi—”

“Three,” you replied immediately. You offered a pained smile, stifling another wince as you did so. 

He leaned in closer to your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “How badly are you hurt?”

You shifted your spine, trying to gauge the pain. The ache was dull at most, minimal at best. “Only a little.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You let out a small sigh, sending him a reassuring smile. You appreciated his protectiveness, you really did, but sometimes he really did go the extra mile. “Clay,” you said softly, “I’m okay, really. I promise I’m okay. I just tripped and fell.” Then you glanced behind him, letting out a deeper sigh. “The cat food, on the other hand? Not so much.”

The bag must have ripped open when it fell, its own weight having collapsed on itself and tearing a hole right through the bottom. The individual pellets of cat food where strewn all across the floor, littering the ground like pebbles. And of course, Patches was already starting to nibble away. Pesky girl.

Clay stood up, reaching a hand out toward you. “Here, I’ll help you clean up.”

You took his hand, shaking your head as he pulled you to your feet. “No, no. You should get back to your stream.” Your brows knit together. “I interrupted it, didn’t it? Your followers will be waiting for you. You should go back.”

He shook his head, his expression resolute. “Contrary to popular belief, [Y/N],” he said, “you’re more important to me than just one stream. I’ll probably just end it when I’m done here, anyway.” He squeezed your hand, his gaze kind. “Let me help you. Please.”

With your heart fluttering in your chest, you squeezed it back. 

“Okay.”

Clay grabbed the two of you a dustpan as you began to clean up the mess of cat food you had made on the floor. You whined about how you just wasted a sale by tripping down the stairs while he poked fun at your frustration, passing you Patches with the request of keeping her away from the food as he swept. In practically no time, you had nearly forgotten what had transpired at all, just happy to spend some time with your wonderful boyfriend next to you.

If only you knew just how much your little fall was going to blow up in your face.

You ran your tongue over your chapped lips, your gaze focused on your laptop screen as your mouse finally hit the submit button. Letting out a sigh, you finally let the stress seep out of your body as a small smile overtook your features.

Finally handed it in. Now, you didn’t have to worry about it anymore.

With a groan, you stretched your arms out above you, cracking your back. You’d been working away for a couple of hours now, but at long last, you were free for the weekend. Humming to yourself, you picked up your phone. You had set it to ‘do not disturb’ a while back, since it hadn’t stopped vibrating at one point. You hadn’t bothered to check why at the time, but you supposed you could spare some time for yourself before dinner.

Swiping your phone open, your thumb instinctively tapped on Twitter, a blue glow enveloping your screen before fading to dark. You hummed as you opened up the trending page, curiosity pawing at your backside. You had your bets on some trend going viral, but knowing the internet, it was probably some weird, random crap.

There were a handful of political memes topping the charts, as well as a #TGIF. You stifled a laugh as you scrolled a bit lower. Twitter sure was a weird place.

That was when a tag caught your eye.

#DreamExplain

Your thumb stopped, hovering over the screen. What? Explain what, exactly?

Then there—just few lines below that.

#WhoIs[Y/N]?

Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.

That was your name. 

Trending. On Twitter.

Panic shot through your veins.

What the actual hell happened?

With a heavy feeling of disbelief sinking its claws into you, you tapped on your name, watching as hundreds of tweets shot past your eyes.

Who’s [Y/N] and how can I be her

dream explain?! oh mygood what was that !!!!

is [Y/N] Dream’s girlfriend or something

um ??? dream said the name [Y/N] on stream today then went afk for like 20 mins ??? then the stream just ended ???wtf ???

what’s @georgenotfound gonna do omggg nooo!!! his boyfriend!!!!!!

You felt sick to your stomach.

Oh god.

They knew who you were.

You wanted to throw up.

Stumbling to your feet, you made your way toward the kitchen where you knew you would find Clay, your phone clutched in a death grip between your fingers. 

“C-Clay?”

He turned from where he was leaning against the counter, a smile lighting up his face at the sound of your voice. “Hey!” The moment his eyes landed on your face, his smile vanished. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Have—” You swallowed, your palms beginning to sweat. “Have you checked Twitter recently?”

“Nope,” he hummed, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “What’s trending this time? Did some politician say something or—”

“I am,” you said ever so softly.

He froze, his phone going slack in his hand. “What?”

You glanced up from your feet. “I’m trending, Clay.”

A beat of silence. “What?!” he repeated, louder this time.

You felt an odd sense of weightlessness sinking onto your shoulders, and you felt yourself begin to ramble. “Crazy, right? Little old me, trending? Wild. Insane. Like, just wow.” 

With each new phrase that leapt from your lips, Clay’s brows furrowed further. You could see the wheels in his head turning at full speed. Then, they stopped, and realization set in. Then came the horror.

Oh, dear god.

“[Y/N],” he whispered, taking a step toward you, “oh my god.”

“You’re also trending, by the way,” you continued, barreling ahead as your hands began wildly gesturing. You swallowed down the panic rising up your throat at full throttle. “It’s a shame that I’m not higher than you, but I guess we can’t win them all.”

“[Y/N],” he said again, “this is serious.”

You nodded, your expression still blank. “Oh, I know. I’m—”

Something in you snapped.

You sucked in a ragged breath. “Yeah, I’m—”

And out came the waterworks.

You collapsed to the ground, the sobs escaping your throat in uneven bursts. Clay’s arms were around you before you knew it, his hand cradling your head for the second time that day.

“Clay, Clay, Clay,” you choked out, your entire being dissolving into him. “Clay, they know who I am. They heard you.”

His grip tightened on you, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. You sobbed harder, your tears soaking into his hoodie.

There was nowhere left to hide.

You hadn’t touched your phone in days. It hardly took more than a few minutes for your Twitter feed to have absolutely blown up with messages about you. Some positive, some negative, some neutral. While you appreciated the kind ones, you only had to read a handful of the not-so-kind ones for you to turn off your phone and hide it in a drawer. It wasn’t like you were going to even use it properly, what with its cracked screen.

The more time passed, the more acutely aware of the public’s knowledge of you became.

Your name was everywhere, supposed drawings of you were everywhere, you—you were everywhere.

You felt like you were suffocating in your own skin.

Clay knew that the slip up had been rough on you, and he didn’t blame you one bit. He had asked you what you needed, if you wanted him to take a few days off to spend more time with you. You had declined, sending him a tired smile.

“I... I think I just need some time to myself to think things over.”

He didn’t push you anymore than that, instead holding you close and pressing his lips to your cheek. For the next couple days, he vanished off of social media—no tweets, no streams, no videos. Nothing. While you busied yourself with class work, he focused on editing and planning ahead for the future. You both knew you were stalling, but right now, you just needed time.

A knock came from your door, a soft voice following just after.

“[Y/N]?”

You rolled over on the bed you shared, your eyes flickering up to see Clay standing in the doorway. The book you had brought in with you laid untouched on the nightstand next to you. You haven’t been able to properly bring yourself to enjoy something without thoughts of doubt seeping into your head.

What do they think of me? Do they like me? Will they approve of our relationship? 

You were terrified out of your mind.

Clay approached the bed when he saw you move, gently sitting down next to you. “Are you doing any better?” 

He patted the space on his leg, and you twisted your body to settle your head on his lap. “Sort of,” you murmured.

A moment passed as he took in your words. “Have you eaten?”

You nodded, your head just barely moving. “Yeah. Ate some leftover pasta.”

You fell quiet once more, simply listening to the sound of his breaths next to yours. Despite having been hearing next to nothing but silence for days now, you felt better knowing he was next to you.

“Hey,” he said softly, grabbing your attention once more. You turned your head towards him, his hand stroking your hair. His emerald eyes bore into yours, focused and sad. “Tell me what’s on your mind. You seem so distant, right now.”

Your gaze trailed up to the ceiling as you opened your mouth, trying to connect the mess of thoughts in your head into coherent sentences. “It’s just all so overwhelming,” you admitted. “All they know about me is my name and that I fell down the stairs, but it already feels like it’s way too much. I didn’t even spend that much time scrolling online, and I already know that there are more than just a few people freaking out.”

You looked up at him, your sad gaze mirroring his. “I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to have everyone begging you for a face reveal.” 

The sadness in his eyes only seemed to grow deeper, and you felt something warm and watery wrap around your heart. “It’s my fault,” he whispered, pressing a hand over his eyes. “I should have muted myself. I shouldn’t have been so reckless. I just moved without thinking and—”

You pulled yourself upwards, turning to sit face to face with him. “Clay, don’t say that.” You reached out to grab him arm, pulling it away from his face. His gaze was watery, and you wished you never had to see him with that expression. “It’s not your fault, not at all. When you heard me fall, you thought of me right away, and I appreciate that.” You held his big hand in between your smaller ones, interlocking your fingers. “That just shows you care for me. Please don’t beat yourself up over what happened.” You offered him a timid smile. “I know that I’m not taking this all too well either, but we’re in this together, right?”

His lips twitched to mirror yours, but his tone was still tinged with a low sadness. “I know, it’s just... I hate seeing you like this, like you can’t live your life normally anymore because of me.”

Your hand reached up to stroke his cheek. “Hey, it’s alright,” you crooned. “Remember, they only know my first name—not even my last name—and that I tripped. They don’t know what I look like.” Your lips twitched. “Heck, they don’t even know what I sound like. I think I’ll be able to live my life just fine. It’s just a little bit... much to begin with.” You shot him a goofy smile. “I might have to use Twitter less, but you know my screen time usage is way too high anyway.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips, his eyes curving into two crescent moons. You felt your expression shift to mirror his almost naturally, but then the smile slowly crept off your face. “And, um, Clay,” you added, fidgeting slightly.

“Yeah?”

“These past two days, I gave what happened some more thought,” you began, “and I think...” You gulped. I think I want to introduce myself.”

His eyes widened, and suddenly his hands were on your face, his gaze focused intently on your face. “Are you positive?” he breathed. “You know you don’t have to do this, [Y/N].”

You nodded, feeling your resolve harden like a stone in your heart. “I know.” You offered him a bold smile. “It’s scary and kind of hard to think about, but I don’t want to leave everyone in the dark. I want to be by your side through thick and thin, no matter what.”

He paused, then pulled his hands away from your face. That sadness in his eyes had returned, and you felt your heart crack at the sight. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly, almost remorsefully. “I know that being with me is already a huge commitment, and this is just taking another huge step...”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “Clay,” you said, staring down at your knee. “I’ve been here with you from the beginning, and I’ll be here until the end. I’m here with you for the long haul, okay?” You raised your head, shooting him a wicked grin. “You won’t be getting rid of me too easily.”

Just like that, his smile was back. “Oh, alright. Only because I love you so much, though.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair with a weary grin. “Well, if there’s anything that I’m sure is going to happen,” he said, “it’s that my fans are definitely going to call me a ‘simp’ even more than they already do.”

You flashed him a teasing smile. “Are they wrong, though?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“No, they’re not.”

Swallowing, you stared long and hard at the microphone sitting in front of you.

You can do this.

“Are you ready?”

You sucked in a deep breath, feeling your hands shake in your lap.

“I—I think so.”

Clay pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, his left arm wrapping itself around your waist to pull you closer on his lap. With his right, he reached for the mouse. On his screen, he had his stream loaded up, with only a single mouse click standing between you and tens of thousands of viewers.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to look at him. With a small smile, he dipped his head down to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling back. Pulling back, he leaned his forehead against yours lovingly.

“You know, this is only about half as stressful as when I met your family,” you joked.

He snorted, the rumbling of his chest running along your back and into your thumping heart. “And they loved you just as much as I do. Once the rest of the world meets you,” he murmured just for you to hear, “they’re going to love you just the same. I swear it.”

You let your eyelids flutter shut, breathing in his scent of fresh linen and citrus. “I hope so.”

He shot you a cheeky wink. “Oh, I know so.”

You rolled your eyes at him, turning around to look at his monitor once more. “Cheese ball.” You didn’t have to turn to know that he was still grinning. Snuggling further back into his chest, you said, “Let’s start the stream, yeah?”

With a nod, he clicked the ‘start streaming’ button. Almost instantaneously, thousands of people joined the stream. You briefly glanced at the chat and felt yourself stiffen when you caught a brief glimpse of your name. Almost immediately, Clay’s hand was on yours, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb while you relaxed once more.

Sending you one last loving glance, he leaned towards his mic and began to speak. “Hey, guys! I know it’s been a little while since I last did a stream, and I know you guys have some questions. But first, there’s someone I want you guys to meet.”

His gaze flickered to you, and he gestured toward the mic. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up your courage and leaned forward. 

“Hi there. My name is [Y/N].”

You felt his hand squeeze yours. 

With a smile and a deep breath, you squeezed back.

“And I’m Dream’s girlfriend.”

[watercolorfreckles]

Thanks for the Ride - Part 2

Part 1 Here

TW: asthma attack, slight angst, mention of blood and sc*rs

((Civilian’s name is now Kaira. Villain doesn’t have one yet.))

Kaira pushed open her apartment door and stepped inside. A flurry of snowflakes gusted in after her, dusting the welcome mat in her entryway as she shoved the door shut. She shivered and slid her boots off, shrugging off her coat next and hanging it up. She leaned heavily against the door to catch her breath, digging her inhaler out of her pocket and taking two puffs.

It had been a month since the incident, and she was left without a vehicle right as the weather turned frigid and biting. Just her luck, as well, that cold air triggers asthma. Kaira coughed and wheezed her way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to make herself some eucalyptus tea. Her doctor had recently told her that it might help alleviate some of her symptoms. Still struggling to breathe, she dropped herself into a chair at the kitchen table, squeezing her eyes shut. She tucked the inhaler back into her pocket without opening her eyes.

Kaira stayed there until the kettle squealed, forcing her lead-heavy limbs to get up and finish making her tea. She took a few sips though they scalded on the way down, and bent down to scoop some of her cat’s food into her bowl. She coughed and took another sip of tea, shaking the bowl a bit as she ventured further into the apartment. “Missy! Here, kitty.”

No response. That’s odd… Her stomach sank as she realized the tv was on in her bedroom. The muffled chatter and buzz were unmistakable. Had she forgotten to turn it off before going to work? 

She padded across the space, inching closer to the bedroom--though it was barely any use trying to be quiet. The ragged wheezing noises probably gave her away rather unceremoniously. Finally approaching the door and just about to cross the threshold, her cat hopped down in front of her, startling a yelp out of Kaira. The mug and food bowl in her hands crashed to the floor.

Kaira slapped a hand over her face, heart pounding all over again. “Missy. What did I do to deserve that?” she mused between strained breaths. 

She picked the remote up off of the dresser, lifting it to turn the screen off when she noticed what was playing on the news, and listened. More about the villain. The media coverage was constant, barely wavering since the villain’s “death” a month prior. The city clung to the hero’s victory, celebrating with parties and rallies and parades and barbeques. “Superhero finally managed to inject Supervillain with a revolutionary new toxic serum that drained his powers away and rendered him helpless. Superhero triumphed over the monster and fulfilled his duty in keeping our city safe! The crime rate perpetrated by powered individuals has decreased significantly as they all now live in fear of the hero’s new bioweapon. Let’s hope they stay underground where they belong.”

“The thing about Hero’s little serum,” a second voice cut through the silence, making Kaira jump and whirl around, “is that its effects are temporary. Poison a villain, take his powers, incapacitate him, kill him while he’s down. It’s quite the cowardly approach, don’t you agree, Kaira?”

Kaira froze in place like prey, staring at the villain sprawled out casually on her bed. He lifted a hand and lightning crackled over his palm like a second skin. Her mouth had gone unbearably dry and all she could do was stare and try to squash down the harsh rasps of her wheezing.

Villain flashed a smile, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he sat up, leisurely. “Your firstborn and I have gotten acquainted.” He wiggled his fingers and made kissy sounds, drawing the orange tabby closer to him.

Kaira inhaled sharply and took a step closer, freezing again at the look Villain cut her as he scooped Missy into his lap. “Do you truly think I would harm your cat?” He tsked. “You must truly think me a monster.”

She swallowed again but it did nothing to aid the dryness scratching her throat. “How-How do you know where I live?” she whispered.

Villain stroked Missy’s back, who purred and curled up on his lap. “You had some bills in your glove compartment--your insurance is overdue, by the way. You might want to pay that.” His lip curled in a teasing smile though his gaze rested intent and unwavering upon her.

Panicked, she fished her inhaler out of her pocket without taking her eyes off of him, inhaling a third puff. “I...I haven’t told anyone about you. I swear I haven’t. I-I didn’t even want to raise questions about where you left me, so...I didn’t call a cab until I, um, walked back to the main road. No-Nobody knows what happened, or that you’re alive, I promise.”

The villain hummed, straightening all the way. 

Kaira’s gaze flicked down to his torso where she could see a deep red seeping through his shirt. “You’re...bleeding.”

“And you’re the only one who knows I’m alive, so. Do be a dear and bring me a first aid kit?” His smile widened, all amusement for now.

Kaira blanched and stepped toward the door when Villain lifted a finger to halt her. “Ah-ah, better have you toss your phone over to me first. The best relationships are built on trust, you know?” he purred, blatantly relishing in the glow of pink that spread over Kaira’s freckled cheeks.

She pulled her cellphone out of her other pocket and tossed it onto the bed, waiting for his nod of approval before staggering wide-eyed into the kitchen to fetch her first aid kit.

Oh my gods, oh my gods, the villain is in my house, oh my gods…

Kaira’s hands shook as she returned, easing herself lightly onto the edge of the bed beside him. She gingerly lifted her cat off of him and set her back onto the floor. “You’re bleeding on my bed,” she murmured. She carefully reached for his shirt and flushed red. “Um...can I?”

The villain grinned, wolfish. “Wishing to undress me so soon? By all means.”

Kaira spluttered, floundering briefly before reaching forward again, unbuttoning the bottom half of his shirt. No need to expose more of his chest than necessary, especially after that comment. Wow, he has a lot of scars…

She traced a finger featherlight over one of the pale slices of skin. When she realized what she was doing, her gaze snapped up to meet his. His laser focus made her feel like a bug splayed on a corkboard. “S-Sorry....” She looked away and opened up the first aid kit and gently examined his bloody wounds. “It...looks like you need stitches...is that okay?”

“Ah, what’s a couple more scars. Just clean them and bandage me up.” Kaira could feel the sudden electricity sparking the air as the hair on her neck stood on end. He smiled prettily, though his eyes were sharper, edging on dangerous. “Please.”

Kaira nodded quickly. “O-Okay, yes. Sure. No need to get, um...zappy.” She smoothed down a few pieces of hair that had been suspended by the static thick in the air like smoke. The energy released suddenly once she agreed, expelling like a popped balloon.

She released a breath through her teeth and got to work with trembling hands. “If nobody knows you’re alive, then who hurt you?”

Kaira jumped as the villain brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Sorry, dear, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Her face burned all over again and she avoided his gaze, focusing on the task at hand. When she was done, the villain abruptly stood and crowded close, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Villain bracketed her in place with an arm against the bed on each side of her. “Thanks for the patch job.” He flashed another predatory smile, eyes twinkling, and dangled her car keys in front of her face. “Care to give me another ride, dear?”

Part 3

Thank you for reading!

Tiny taglist:  @writing-on-the-wahl , @ vlerlove , @valiantlytransparentwhispers. If anyone wants to be added, let me know :) 

[honeybunnybeez]

IF ITS ALRIGHT CAN YOU DO A PART 2 OF KISS IT BETTER THAT WAS SO CUTE AND FLUFFY I LOVED IT

Love me sweeter

♡Genre: Fluff!

♡Poly!Karlnapity x crush!GN!reader

♡Format: Fanfiction

♡Reader is Gender Neutral!

♡Summary: Part 2 of, Kiss it better. Karl, Sapnap and Quackity still cling onto that promise of yours for a lunch date and more kisses. However, you certainly didn't expect it to go this way at all. You certainly aren't complaining though.

Quackity: (y/n)

Quackity: (y/n)

Quackity: (y/n)

Quackity: (Y/N)!

Sapnap: Babe, give it a rest, they're probably busy.

Karl: Wait, let me try.

Quackity: If they didn't respond to me what makes you think they'd respond to you?

Sapnap: He's got you there, Karl.

Karl: Watch this.

Karl: (y/n)?

(Y/n): Yes, Karl my beloved?

Sapnap: What the heck!?

Quackity: (Y/N), HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?

You can't help but laugh as they accuse you of favouritism, jokingly arguing amongst themselves about it. You had just finished patching up Sam after another recent burn injury and were currently putting away your bandages and empty potion bottles. Taking out your clock real quick, you panic a little seeing that it was already 11:30, you haven't even gathered the ingredients for lunch you promised them yet.

"I really should stop talking about the kids to Sam when I'm in a rush," you mumble to yourself, knowing full well that you aren't going to stick to what you said.

Once everything is placed back where it should be you finally check your communicator again.

Quackity: (y/n), come oooon, don't ignore us again.

Karl: You ignored me as well :(

Sapnap: (y/n), it's importaaant.

(Y/n): Alright, alright, I'm back on.

(Y/n): You guys are so needy

Karl: I thought you loved that about us?

(Y/n): Not when I'm working, sweetheart.

You couldn't hear it (of course you couldn't, you lived pretty far away from them after all), but Karl was currently giggling like a mad man while Sapnap and Quackity playfully argued with him once again.

"Seriously!? You get the pet name too?

"Karl Jacobs, is there some sort of trick to wooing them that you aren't telling us?"

"I'm just adorable, you two," and his fiances couldn't even deny that. Instead of continuing to 'fight' over it, they huddle closer to Karl with fake pouts on their faces, eyes glued back onto their communicators.

(Y/n): Anyways, any reason why you three were blowing up my phone?

Karl: Don't cook lunch.

You hate how instantly you sighed in relief at that message-

Quackity: And wear something nice that you don't mind getting destroyed!

Sapnap: In case our little picnic trip goes south :P

(Y/n): A picnic?

Karl: Yeah, something romantic!

(Y/n): You three are pretty serious about this date, huh?

Sapnap: Of course we are, you didn't think we were kidding did you?

You feel yourself getting embarrassed as you read Sapnap's message over again. You genuinely did think this was more of a friendly date than a romantic one, and could anyone blame you? The three of them have always been rather physically affectionate with you, so you had always assumed that the feelings you all shared were simply platonic. You're glad to be proven wrong of course but still, you feel your heart race as you realized that they meant business.

Quackity: (y/n)?

(Y/n): Yup, yup, still here, sorry, I was just eyeing a creeper from across my home.

Sapnap: Everything safe?

(Y/n): Yup, the fucker got taken out by a skeleton, anyways!

(Y/n): When are you guys coming over?

Karl: 1:30 sound good to you?

(Y/n): Perfect, I'll see you fella's soon

Sapnap: ♡!!!

Karl: ♡! :D

Quackity: ♡ ;)

A sudden knock on your door almost makes the cookie you were holding in your mouth drop to the floor as you let out a startled gasp. Thankfully, you catch it in time and yell out that you'd be at the door in a moment. Grabbing the container of cookies you managed to bake thanks to some leftover dough from days before, you make your way over to your front door quickly, throwing it open with much more enthusiasm than you were hoping to show.

"Surprise!" Karl happily exclaims while giving you a giant hug. You can't help but giggle and hug him back tightly as well. Over his shoulder you see Sapnap carrying a basket while Quackity carries a blanket. They give you excited smiles paired with a little wave, something you can't help but return.

When Karl pulls away, you can see him giggling nervously and flushing a little red, rubbing the back of his neck while he does so.

"Sorry, got a little excited there."

You tell him with a smile that it's fine and take a step back to admire all three of them in their clean clothes and neat hair. It's pretty rare to catch all three of them looking like this, especially Sapnap.

"Taking in how handsome we look?" Sapnap can't help but joke.

"Nah, more like how this is the first time you three have visited me without looking like a bunch of stray cats." A chorus yell of, "Hey!" causes a breath of laughter to escape your lips.

"We'll try to be on our best behavior," Quackity tries to reassure.

Karl isn't having it though and adds in a, "The keyword being try, (y/n)," causing Quackity to lightly punch his arm.

You roll your eyes, knowing that by the end of today they'll probably need quick patch ups anyways, but hey, that just means they'll be spending more time with you.

"Alright, alright, enough talking! Let's get going before the sun sets," taking one of your free hands, Sapnap is quick to take ahold of it and start walking you to the direction of their little picnic site. Along the way, Karl had taken your cookie container to hold your other hand while Quackity linked arms with Sapnap's free arm. They wouldn't let go of you or one another for the entire trip and the feeling gave you butterflies as you felt incredibly included and tended to.

The area was quite a walk away from the rest of society, you had to go through quite the trip before finally arriving. However, the trip was certainly worth it as you four finally arrived at a lovely, almost impossibly serene area deep in a forest biome. Under a specific oak tree they had lead you to, you can see torches lit up with flowers decorating the small area around it. You can't help but hide your face as you feel yourself growing impossibly flustered by the incredibly simple but cheesy setting.

"It isn't much, but we thought it would be nice to do something cute," Sapnap explains sheepishly. "Since this is our first date together and all."

"Do you like it?" Quackity asks, looking at you hopefully.

"I-I, I love it a lot," you say, trying your best to keep your voice from cracking. The words lay on the tip of your tongue as you hesitate to say it, but after peaking through your fingers a little and seeing the lovestruck expression they send your way, you can't help but let your confession slip past your lips, "I love you guys a whole lot too..."

At your confession, the three of them are quick to drop what they were holding to the side and pull you in for a tight hug. They giggle as they watch you press your hands closer to your face, kissing the top of you head and telling you how adorable they think you are.

"You have no idea how relieved we are to hear that, (y/n)," Karl confesses.

"I thought my heart was going to drop onto the floor when I heard it," Sapnap can't help but add with a chuckle.

"Does this mean we can steal all the kisses we want from you now, (y/n)?" Quackity asks, pressing one more kiss against your temple.

Slowly, you start to lower your hands away from your face, looking into the eyes of the three men smiling down on you with huge grins stuck on their faces.

"Like all of us not dating ever stopped you guys from stealing them before," you quietly sass back, causing the three of them to start kissing you more and more until you're squealing with laughter.

Well, sure they did steal countless of kisses from you before you four were an item but now things were different. You were theirs just as much as they were yours, and that just made the kisses and cuddles all the more sweeter.

A/N: Hhh, I'm so glad some of you guys enjoyed my little KarlNapIty blurb! I really hope this lives up to the first one but I'm not very confident in it if I'm being honest ^^'. I genuinely love this pair with all my heart and writing for them is lowkey an addiction XD Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed reading this!

(Requests are open and anon is on!)

[koushisbabie]

Lovebites w Kenma

“i think i should submit here but may i please get a fluffy kenma one-shot where he kinda tackles the reader away from their study stuff because he needs attention and their relationship is relatively new so kissing and makeout stuff is rare but he's just kissing up on the reader's neck, nibbling on their neck, then just cuddling them after leaving a pretty hickey there, admiring the color on their skin before offering words of affection and just massive cuddles? i would love u forever” Request from @haikyutiehoe​

I kind of took creative liberty with this one, and it’s KIND OF suggestive near the end?? I hope you like it! (I also didn’t reread and edit it bc I’m supposed to be doing my essay lol)

TW: lovebites/hickeys, general fluff, suggestive at the end, probably doesn’t qualify as nsfw but like, be wary.

Pairing: Kenma x gn!reader

Word Count: 1,037

Soft lofi plays in the background as my fingers hover over the page in front of me. Loose documents and various writing accoutrement lie strewn across the kotatsu and spill over onto the floor surrounding me. Three almost empty mugs sit amongst the mess, their remaining contents long gone cold and stagnant.

I glance at the time, briefly scanning over missed messages waiting to be acknowledged. One message in particular catches my attention. A simple ‘what are you up to?’ Followed by ‘just a heads up, I’m streaming soon, wanna hang out after?’ And a third message ‘y/n, are you done yet?’.

Exhaustion seems to have made a permanent home in my limbs, but that not prevent me from instinctively smiling at the phone screen. I type back a hurried ‘I'm still studying, we can hang out later’ before turning the phone face down and shifting my attention back to the ruckus in front of me. I inwardly groan at the idea of trying to stuff copious amounts of information into my already tired brain, yet despite the hassle, somehow manage to force myself to open the next textbook and begin reading.

An indeterminate amount of time passes before a shrill vibrating erupts from the phone to my right. It pulls me out of my trance, and I reluctantly pick up the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘You’re still alive.’

‘Just barely.’

Kenma’s quiet laugh sounds on the other end.

‘What did you need?’ I ask, holding the phone between my cheek and my shoulder, using my free hands to write a few words down into my study notes.

‘Just checking up on you, you’ve been at this for hours,’ Kenma replies. ‘Come upstairs, give yourself a break, we can watch a movie or something.’

‘Tempting, but there’s some methods I haven’t completely wrapped my head around yet,’ I say, hoping that frustration does not wind its way into my voice.

‘Have you even eaten yet?’ Kenma interjects.

I glance guiltily at the snacks I vaguely recall him silently leaving on the table hours ago. ’I drank the tea,’ I quickly add, ’thank you, Kenma.’

He sighs audibly. ’Y/n...’

‘I'll eat, I promise, just a few more hours, okay?’ I smile into the phone, knowing very well he cannot see me.

‘Sure, Y/n,’ he says finally.

The phone goes silent and for a split second I consider just going upstairs to check that he isn’t sulking. He can handle a few more hours, I think. Turning back to my notes, I continue to read.

Before long, there is the muffled sound of footsteps on carpet, a door sliding open, and the gentle kneeling of a person behind me. Warmth envelopes me as sweatshirt clad arms encircle my waist, a cold nose nuzzling into my neck, the tickling of outgrown blonde hair against my skin.

‘Kenma?’ I peer at him out of the corner of my eye. ‘What’s up? You okay?’

‘Do you know what time it is?’ Comes his muffled voice. His lips press against my neck as he speaks, sending shivers down my spine.

‘It’s, uh,’ I go to check my phone, but Kenma’s hand grabs my wrist.

‘It’s time for you to listen to reason,’ he kisses my neck in between speaking, ‘and spend time with me.’

‘This is out of the blue,’ I laugh nervously. ‘Since when do you make the first move?’

‘Just because I haven’t done it before, doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it,’ Kenma blushes. ‘Is it really that weird?’

It’s now my turn to be embarrassed. ‘No, I like it.’

He presses his mouth against my neck more firmly. ‘What is it that you like, Y/n?’

‘That,’ I murmur in response, closing my eyes. ‘When you kiss me.’

His arms pull me ever closer, before using one cool hand to pull the neck of my shirt further to the side, exposing my collar bone. He places kisses fervently against my skin, the warmth and the firmness growing with each movement. I resist squirming in his grasp, not wanting to ruin the romance of the moment, despite the flustering in my belly. ‘Tell me if it hurts,’ Kenma murmurs into my ear, his lips tickling my earlobe deliciously.

‘It doesn’t.’

A moment of hesitation passes before the next kiss turns into something sharper, more urgent. He bites me hard enough to hold the skin between his lips before sucking gently and placing a soft kiss. I turn my gaze to his, the flecks of gold in his eyes shimmering innocently back at me, as if he wasn’t pushing every button I have in this moment. Almost every button.

‘Did you like that?’

The curiosity in his question almost makes me want to laugh. ’I did, yes.’

Kenma shifts his attention to my neck, his lips forming a lovely ‘o’ in surprise. He takes a hand and strokes the tender area. ‘You beginning to bruise.’

‘Am I?’ I cannot quite see the bruises.

‘I didn’t think I was that hard,’ Kenma gives a tiny smile. ‘Sorry.’

I grin mischievously at him. ’Something tells me you aren’t actually sorry for that at all.’

‘Maybe not,’ Kenma buries his blush in the crook of my neck, pulling me into an even tighter embrace.

‘Wanna go continue this upstairs?’ I ask, taking a hand and running it through the stray strands of his soft hair. This elicits a soft moan from Kenma, not unlike a cat’s purr.

‘That’s what I’ve been asking you for hours,’ He whines.

‘Ah, so you were sulking!’

‘Was not,’ Kenma argues. ‘Just, come be with me for a bit. I’ve missed you.’

Guilt tugs at my heartstrings. ’I’ve missed you, too.’

He meets my eyes with a tenderness that renders me speechless, and for a long second, nothing existed besides the two of us. God, he’s beautiful.

I stand and offer him my hand, to which he takes without hesitation. He eyes the mess I’ve made of my textbooks and study notes. 'I'll clean it tomorrow,’ I shrug. ‘Right now, I want to see how many more love bites you can give me.’

‘Anything for you,’ Kenma replies as he leads me by the hand to the sanctuary of the bedroom.

masterlist

[pleasantanathema]

Pray to Me

Pairing: Shinsou x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Gods!AU, Rough Sex, Too Many Norse Mythology References

Word Count: 8.5k

         The frigid waters were laden with blood and ice, the salty waves licking the bows of long boats as they accosted the shores. The dark waters of the bay looked black against the fresh snow, churning oars sending sprays onto the docks as warriors returned home.

           You stood among the crowds, whips of snow billowing past your reddened cheeks, your arms crossed in protection across your chest. Despite losing the men within your family to raids and battles long ago, you always came to welcome back those who were fortunate enough to receive homecoming. Upon the sails of the ships was the symbol of your earl, dancing proudly against the winds of winter as the men and women beneath them hailed their successes from summer and autumn.

           High upon the prow of the leading ship was a carved figurehead, meticulously crafted in the image of Skoll, the wolf who hunts the moon. The wolf’s jaws were wide and within his wooden tongue was an etching of a crescent moon; the wolf with his prey in his maw was a symbol of Ragnarok, a symbol of the return of chaos. And upon the prow was a man you had never seen before.

          The man was all shades of violet and violence. His hair was the color of crushed mulberries, the long strands pushed back and wet from the sea, so deeply purple that it looked as if you were to touch him, your palms would stain with color. Blood, russet and old, crimson and fresh, was splattered across his cheeks. A warrior’s tattoos stained the expanse of his chest and arms; the thick, blue lines were heavy and sprawling from the wood ash buried within in pale skin. And his eyes, they were purple and bright, painted with black kohl. The dark smears ran down his impressive cheek bones and curled up from his eyes, appearing catlike. The curious orbs resembled the farthest stars that lined night sky.

           You expected murmurs from around the docks, but it was as if the man belonged there, towering over all the rest, hands pulling at the mouth of the wolf within the wood. He was silent power within the snow, lean and muscular, body on display as if the storm did not touch him. You felt drawn to him, like he was looking for you high upon the prow. Your feet moved before you could think. You wanted to be closer, to have those violaceous eyes upon you.

           You moved in front of the crowd, standing by the edge of the water, sand and ice crunching underfoot, but when your eyes darted to find him, he was gone. There was no trace of slick purple hair within the throngs of people. Disappointment settled into your spirit and wearily you traveled home to rest.

           For weeks you dreamt of him, saw shadows of him within the corners of your vision; illusions of a dark cat in your windows, a tawny owl upon barren branches.

            Some nights you dreamed you were sinking into a vast violet sea, trying to swim upwards to break against the surface, to breathe air into your lungs and call to Odin to rescue you. But you were stuck, some unknown force pulling at your ankles and keeping you in a watery, nebulous purgatory just below the surface. You would always give up, allow yourself to float within the celestial unknown of the eerie, mauve waters, allow yourself to feel weightless and accept that you were no longer in control. The undercurrents would push you, bring you into strong, waiting arms, and you would awaken, breathing in and feeling like for a brief moment you were whole.

           No one you asked had seen the purple haired man, save those who returned from raiding in the East. One warrior told you that the man you saw upon the prow of the ship was a land spirit, brought with them from the Balkans after blessing them with the gift of fire and aiding their struggles to survive as the weather turned bleak. Another relayed that the man was a spirit of the Wild Hunt, a straggler from the ghostly procession that attached himself to the fleet and brought the callousness of winter with him. No matter what they believed him to be, they had all seen him, the man with violet hair and violent eyes.

           You knew that the sisters were calling to you from The Well of Fate, whispering the future that they had laid before you. Something about the purple haired man, whether he be man, vestige, or spirit, made you believe that you were fated to meet him again.

           Nearly a full moon cycle passed before your curiosity could take no more. In the dead of night, you wrapped yourself in your cloak, ignoring the shadows and wisps of eyes in the dark as you made your way through the sleeping village.

You found yourself before the Seer, ancient and decrypt, asking for him to translate the gods’ wishes and intentions for your life.

           “What questions do you have of me?” His voice was as rickety as the bones that adorned his hut, rattling from stray winds. He had lived hundreds of years and now dwelled between life and death, an interpreter between gods and man.

           “Wise one, I desire to know the gods’ plans for me. I have dreams.”

           “What dreams have come to you?”

           “I dream I am drowning within the bay, and that a man saves me, but only after I stop fighting the currents.”

           There was a pregnant pause between you. The Seer considered your words. Your thumbs fiddled within your lap, and you felt heavy, like you were under the gaze of more than just the ancient one.

           “A precarious quest awaits you, one that will take you between worlds, to the land of the gods.”

           “But I do not understand. I do not adventure, nor travel. I am only a simple healer. What kind of quest could await me?”

           Below hooded eyes you watched a black tongue escape his mouth, worrying across dry lips as he pondered your words. Only a few times in your life had you visited him, well aware that fate was already the master of all, even the gods, as even they were subject to fate just like any and all other beings.

           “You shall go past where the fence separates us from the place of self-willed beasts, finding refuge in that which is chaotic, anarchic, and wild.”

           “But, Seer, I do not—.”

           “Yes, child, I know you do not understand. But such is the way of prophecy, only to be understood when it has happened, and it is too late to change it.”

           You stood to leave, seeds of fear sprouting within your spirit.

           “But do not forget there is order within the chaos.” His voice crackled like fire, calling out to you as you left his home, forging a path through the snow to your own.

           The foresights of the Seer lingered within your disposition, the cryptic words reverberating through your mind and taking hold in your daily life. You started to fight the currents in your dreams, only to wake gasping for breath after monstrous beings pulled you into the abyss. The warm arms of your illusory savior felt farther away than ever before. The murky glooms in the crevices felt stronger, grimmer, the oppressive eyes of darkness following you from every corner, every winter shade.

           Your hands began to slip as you tended to the wounded, your thoughts becoming absent as you crafted medicine or supper, often burning yourself over fires or forgetting ingredients. You felt lost, abandoned by the gods, but still yet you prayed.

           Winter continued to rage on, with the moon living within the sky at all times of day and bathing the world in a constant dusk during the desolate midwinter. Every night before you made for bed, you trekked behind the village to the isolated temple to the gods. No one was ever there. The summer raids were over, the men safely returned with riches aplenty, which, along with the great harvest, had left many believing that the gods were in good spirits and were bestowing ample blessings upon their dedicated supplicants.

           But you, you felt no love from Asgard, felt no promise of Valhalla waiting for you.

           The temple was hardly a sanctuary at all, just a hut overrun by dormant vines and overgrown with dying grass, with an altar for blood sacrifices tucked away against the back wall. Despite being a devoted village, most saved their prayers for their pilgrimage to the great temple in Uppsala, but you had become desperate. You needed to feel closer to the gods, to find the place beyond the fence that was foretold to you.

           You knelt upon a broken stone, obedient hands upon your knees as you began to pray.

        “Odin, all-father and far-wanderer, may you grant me wisdom, and    courage,

         Thor, grant me your strength, wield your hammer to break the barriers that hold my mind,

         Baldr, the beautiful, beloved by all, please bestow upon me joy and light,

         And Freya, mother of beauty, the völva, help me to discern my fate—.”

           Your prayer faltered as you heard steps crunch upon the grass. But the sound wasn’t of footsteps coming towards you, more like someone shuffling, shifting their weight within the temple.

           You were not alone.

           All your instincts began to fight one another. Your mind wanted to flee, to spring your legs and send you running to safety, but your heart felt like you needed to stay, to speak into the twilight for answers. The conflict led to you staying still and being silent. Your hands fisted upon your thighs, your eyes closing tightly. Whatever was there would go away, whoever was there would leave. Maybe there was nothing there at all, only the spirits playing tricks on you again.

           “And why haven’t you called out for me, little one?”

           The voice sounded like vibrations from within the deepest ocean; deep, unfathomable, and a little wicked.

           He was there, before you, arms across his tattooed chest that was on display under emerald linen and violet head cocked to the side. He was grinning, like a cat would upon discovering new prey. His purple hair was arched into wild plumes, his skin rubbed clean but the kohl still upon his cheeks and around his eyes. He was handsome in the firelight, fiendishly so.

           “Who are you?” Your voice was a whisper, so light and airy it floated away into the darkness.

           “Who am I?” He laughed, leaning against the sacrificial altar, a blatant disrespect for the gods.

           “Who am I…” he repeated it, drawing circles in the dirt with his toe. He shifted his weight back and forth for a moment, eyes closing as he picked up an imaginary rhythm.

           “A creaking bow, a burning flame, tide on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake…”

           Your breath caught in your throat, fingers twitching in your lap. You recognized the pattern and knew what words came next. It was an old saying your mother used to whisper under her breath, a chant for the old women and those who held superstitions. It was a warning, a rhythmic song to help children remember to stay safe, to avoid perils.

           Your mouth opened before you could stop it, finishing the proverb for him.

           “The sons of a king, an ailing calf, a witch’s flattery. No man should be such a fool as to trust these things. For they are the trickster in disguise.”

            “Aha, so you do know me, girl. Yet after all this time, I’ve never heard you pray to me. Why is that?”

              He crouched down to your level, his startling, devilish eyes gleaming like amethyst. He was too close and you felt yourself leaning away, back arching and neck aching as you tried to pull yourself from his gaze.

             “No one prays to you, trickster god.”

              He merely shrugged, a strong hand reaching for you. Rough fingers found your chin, pulling you closer as his eyes danced across the planes of your face. You began to shake, overwhelmed by being in the presence of perhaps the most dangerous god.

            “And how do you know I am he?” he laughed, thumb running over your lips, “I could be Heimdall, sent by Odin to watch over such a devout and…fascinating little creature.”

           “Because you’re so…” you paused as you looked for the words. You felt like you were drowning within his gaze, falling to the ground even though you hadn’t moved since he appeared.

           He stood quickly, turning on his heel and smirking.

           “Because I’m so what? Handsome? Charming? Surprisingly muscular for a god who uses wits and magic to seduce his subjects?”

            He pouted at your silence, wanting more of a reaction.

          “What if I told you I could be beautiful instead? Would that hex you?”

           This time he didn’t give you an opportunity to respond. Within a haze of smoke, he transformed.

           A languid, sensuous body appeared between the mists. Voluptuous breasts met your eyes, smooth thighs peeking from beneath an exquisite olive dress. Long, violet tresses fell down the woman’s back, curling so perfectly she looked to be unreal. But his eyes stared at you from the feminine face, dark lavender and sinister upon high cheekbones.

          “Hmm,” she sighed, holding her hand out for you to take.

          You took the soft hand outstretched to you, surprised at the strength behind the grip as she pulled you to your feet. The goddess was tall and slender, and she gazed at you while she pondered whatever was on her mind.

          “Still not as beautiful as you…” her voice was melodic as she looked over her own body, swaying within the graceful skin for a moment before catching your gaze and stopping. You stood still, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed at the hermaphrodite before you. Her lashes fluttered as a familiar smirk spread across her features.

          It was as if she was floating when she neared you again, purple hair uncontrollable and suspended within the air. Her tender hands came to your cheeks, pursing your mouth with her thumbs.

         “No…nothing is as beautiful as you, little servant.” Her supple lips overwhelmed your own. You gasped, hands flying to her chest to stop her, only to have your fingers sink into the luscious valley of her breasts. A chuckle fans across your face, more masculine than feminine, and the mixture of the voice had shivers of excitement and pleasure racing down to your toes. You were too shocked, too scared to kiss back, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips moved against yours gently, pleadingly, only becoming more active when the delicate hands upon your cheeks converted to thick fingers and rough calluses.

           Before your eyes the god shifted again, returning to the fetching masculine figure that he was before. You could smell him now, taste him, like smoke from smoldering coals and the residue of rain from within a summer’s forest. Your hands were still upon his chest, your fingers brushing against the skin that was on display between the open buttons of his tunic. His kiss was intoxicating, a hum of magic upon his lips as he drank you in.

           “You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled, licking your lips wantonly before pulling away.

           “Why have you been haunting me?” You demanded between heavy breaths, emboldened by his kiss.

            “Haunting you? No, no. I’ve been watching you. Observing you. You looked so…sinless among the throngs when I sailed in all those weeks ago. I must say I am very pleased by the things I have seen.”

            “And what have you seen?” Your voice snapped; tongue sharp.

            His hands caressed your upper arms, eyes glancing across your body as if he was admiring a pattern within runes that he had seen a thousand times before.

           “You serve…everyone. The gods, the people in this village, you tend to the weak spirited and the broken bodied, you serve everyone but yourself.”

            The god grew quiet, leaning forward to inhale the sweet scent of your hair. His lips pressed to your temple, thumbs stroking your arms through the thin fabric of your clothing. His breath fanned into your hair and you suddenly felt your heart begin to beat more slowly. It was as if his presence alone, his touch, could calm the raging turmoil within your mind.

            “Now, I want you to serve me.”

            “Yes,” you said too quickly, a knee buckling as you prepared to kneel, “of course, anything for a go—.”

           “Shinsou.” His hands held you in place, kept you from bowing to him. He watched as your head tilted and your brow furrowed, obviously wanting to please him. “Shinsou is the name my friends call me, and as shall you.”

          “Shinsou.” You tentatively said the name back to him. Your people knew him as Loki, but to know a more intimate name made tingles of warmth spread across your chest, like he was entrusting knowledge unknown by mortals into you.

           He became violet and beautiful as you said his name, a warm smile decorating his striking face. The safe feeling of your dreams washed over you. These arms, his arms, his hands and his body, were the safety you had been dreaming of that saved you from the tumultuous seas. You stared at him for a moment, hands feeling a heartbeat within his chest. He looked so human, felt so real, yet still an otherworldly air swirled so poignantly around him. Everything inside of you wanted to fall into him, to feel enveloped by his spirit.

        “I’m going to take you away,” he whispered it, hand trailing from your arm to your face, tucking hair behind your ear in a most affectionate way, “you’ll never have to come back here, unless you want to.”

        “Take me away? To Asgard?” Your breath hitched as you said the name of the haven of the gods.

          He laughed, the sound like honey dripping across your soul.

         “No, little one. I am of the giants; don’t you remember the ancient stories? To Jotunheim we will go.”

          Your brow lightened, remembering the words of the Seer. Jotunheim, your brain wracked over the word, letting it roll within your thoughts until it revealed what you were looking for. Útgarðr, you realized, the name of that same place given by your ancestors. It meant the world outside your own, the world of chaotic wilds that surrounded Midgard. The place beyond the fence.

         This Loki—this Shinsou—was indeed fated to you after all. You felt the connection from the moment you saw him sailing in the winter winds, felt it even more profoundly as he held you before him in the temple. For some reason, the trickster god had chosen you, or perhaps he was merely following fate, testing you for all this time to see if you were truly the human girl destined for him. He was a sign of change, his hands wrapped around the prow of the ship that was carved into a symbol of Ragnarok, the end of the cycle of this world. He was proving to be a carrier of the end times, at least the ending of your own mundane life. And just like Ragnarok, you had a feeling that with this end would come a new beginning, that Shinsou was taking you away but leading you to a new life, a new destiny, far beyond what you could ever imagine.

          “Take my hand,” it was a polite command, his words weighty but light enough to promise that you could decline.

            You felt something between his fingers, a quietness, a wickedness you could not quite name. It was like a dull thrum of lightening humming between your skin and his. Billows of smoke weaved between your bodies. Just as quickly as he transformed into a woman, Shinsou had you whisked away, transported so rapidly you felt dizzy. You clung to him, your godly refuge, light flashing as your feet found new purchase upon what felt like a floor.

            For a moment, you thought the room was a mirage. It was unlike anything had ever seen before, so lavishly decorated with lush furs, viridian curtains, polished stone and warm fires. Books lined every wall and the air smelled of perfumes and incense, even a fountain sprung from stones in the far corner. It was truly unearthly, but his arms around you felt like home.

           His head rested upon your shoulder from behind, his palms flattening on your chest to feel your heartbeat as you took in the sights around you.

           “This is…this is your home?” One of your hands gripped a muscular forearm.

            “Mhm, more like a home away from home, a safe haven.”

             He uncurled himself from you, a stout hand pushing at your lower back to urge you to explore. You padded around the room, fingers caressing the spines of books along the walls, finding many in languages unknown to you. Between many of the tomes were vases and trinkets, some glowing with mystic hues, humming with magic well beyond your comprehension.

           “What will you have me do here?” Your breath caught as you turned to find him. He seemed so large and ominous within the space, like was the commander of the room and the only ornament to be admired within the vast collection around you.

          “You haven’t figured it out? My, and I thought you were keener than most mortals.”

            He rolled his shoulders, sighing with content as he removed his tunic, tossing it into the air to only have it dissipate before your eyes in a bright flash of magic. His tattoos seemed darker in the dim light, like the blackest earth pressed into his skin. A serpent trailed down one of his impressive biceps, his other arm decorated in a swirl of runes and etchings of a wolf and a horse, his chest covered with a dark, ethereal depiction of Yggdrasil, the world tree, it’s branches spreading across strong pectorals and its roots weaving between the hard muscles of his stomach.

         “Come,” he motioned to you with his fingers, “come back and touch me.”

          You had no hesitation, coming to his call like a pet would their master. It felt safe to be back in his arms again, to have your fingers running over the indigo lines of art upon his handsome skin. He proudly showed you his arms, eyeing you with great interest as you admired him.

         “Your children,” you mused softly, tracing the pictures so marvelously stretched upon his musculature.

        “Yes,” he laughed softly, “my children. Call me sentimental, if you must.” The enormous snake was no doubt Jormungand, the serpentine dragon that encircled all the oceans, all of Midgard. Then there was Fenrir, the ferocious wolf that was chained away somewhere from all humanity and gods alike, in wait to break his binds and eat the world as the end began again. And then there was Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse that bore the weight of Odin in all of his battles. They were all wild creatures, the offspring of the unfathomably powerful god before you. They were all beasts of anarchy, yet they looked so beautiful upon his skin, so harmless within the ink.

       “Order within the chaos…” you whispered, echoing the words of the Seer.

       “I want you.”

       His powerful voice rumbled from within his chest. It startled you, caused your wandering hands to cease upon his arms and become still before him.

       “Why?” Breathless. You felt breathless.

        “I have traveled every inch of the nine worlds, regarded every corner for fascinations and enthrallments, yet it was in the homeland where I found what I wanted. You are the most beautiful, pliant little create I have ever beheld, and I want you within my bed.”

       “No, you can’t! I’m nothing, no one of importance, you…you can’t.”

        He left you then, smirk adorning his features as he sauntered to his bed, waiting for you to follow. And you did, an unspeakable urge to touch him, to follow him, to feel him, to be overwhelmed by him, drawing you to him like a fox to its den, to its safety.

        “Well, if you don’t want me, my brother Katsuki would give up his fates in order to have such an alluring woman within his sheets.”

       “Katsuki?”

        He paused, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, that playful grin still upon his lips.

         “Thor, if you rather. We all have many names, but I only want mine to come from your tongue. So many nights I waited to hear you pray to me, call out to me within your dreams, but I tired of lingering. So now I will have you say it, scream it, for me, little servant.”

         He pulled you into his lap, hands greedy upon your flesh, pulling at your thighs and sinking between your ribs. He looked untamed upon the bed, hair almost purposely unruly and muscles rolling and ready to hunt what he wanted to take.

         “Do you think you can do that for me? Pray to me? Call out for me like you need me?”

           Thick fingers gripped at your cheeks; violet eyes hazy like storm clouds above the ocean. You were reminded that he was a devious deity, a shapeshifter, a trickster, the one thing that your elders warned you about as a child. A burning flame, tide on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake, he was all those deceitful things and more. He was the epitome of chaos, yet he had chosen you, desired you, and you knew that deep within your spirit you wanted him as well. He was handsome beyond compare, but his physical splendor was not all that had you holding onto him. Behind those eyes was a promise of release from every woe, a chance to experience pleasure like you had never known before.

         “Yes, Shinsou, whatever you desire.”

          “So devoted to the gods,” he whispered, bringing you flush against his body, “now I’ll make you feel like one.”

          Slowly, he ran his hand downward, finding the intimate, remarkably soaked place between your legs. He could feel your wetness from beneath your wool coverings and a satisfied groan builds within his throat as his lips curl even more sharply, devilishly.

         “So wet for me already,” he chuckles, wrist flicking and sending your clothing away.

         You gasped, feeling the threads peel away from your body by what felt like imaginary hands. Just like his tunic before, your shirt and trousers were gone, whisked away to perhaps another dimension never to be seen again.

        “Look at you,” he boasts, keeping one hand tucked between your slick thighs as the other rakes across your curves, pinching, pulling, teasing at your flushed skin, “not even the goddesses compare to you. Mhm, thank the All Father for breathing life into you, I must thank him for creating such beauty.”

         Your mouth could barely stammer a thanks. You were beguiled, stunned within his lap, your legs stretched over gloriously muscled thighs. You almost felt shameful to be on such display for him, but the hunger in his eyes and the hardening cock underneath told you just how pleased he was to have you.

        A deft finger began to circle your most sensitive spot, making you bite your lip as a groan burned within your throat. He was slow and deliberate with his movements, gaze catching every breath you made, every shift and roll of your body. You felt hot, unbearably so, as his finger toyed with you so languidly.

       His other hand found your breast, cupping it and testing its weight within his giant palm. His thumb grazed your nipple, circling it at the same pace and movement as your clit. He grinned as he watched you slowly come undone, felt your walls and insecurities crumbling away at his touch.

        Shinsou then took your sensitive clit between two fingers, rolling it so perfectly that it sent sparks of pleasure racing across your nerves, surging from your thighs to your toes and back again. He kept going, stroking sensually, purposely, with such expert skill that you felt you could cum just from his slightest touches. Is this what being with a god felt like? Like you were constantly on the edge of euphoria, every touch and stroke like the gift of life within your body?

      Your head tipped back as you moan, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure. He watched with glee as the column of your throat was on display for him. He took a moment to press his hot mouth against your flesh, sucking roughly against the side of your neck like he was taking your pleasure for himself. You could only moan again, the sensations already drowning you in such bliss you were surprised your inner coil of pleasure hadn’t broken for him already. He was an expert in giving pleasure just like he was the art of manipulation and sorcery.

      All too easily he moved you below him on the bed, his impressive body now hovering over your own, mouth still biting at your neck, fingers still circling your nipple and caressing your pussy.

     “Tell me what you want,” it was a soft command against the slick skin of your neck.

       “You,” you breathed in deep, breasts pressing against his tattooed chest with your inhale, “please, more.”

       “More of what? Of this?” he pinched at your nipple, tugging it and twisting it so wantonly that you couldn’t help but to shriek in pleasure for him, “or this?” his two fingers danced along the lips of your pussy, sliding between the wet folds before returning to your aching clit, swirling against it so proficiently that you felt your inner muscles clenching and begging for release.

        “All of it, I want everything.”

       “My, my, you are a greedy little thing.”

        All at once, he ceased his motions, easing the pressure upon your body and leaving you wanting, burning, begging for more. But he is not gone from you. His fingers, coated in your slick, tauntingly trace over your clit once more, so light it’s like the kiss of life just barely brushing over your delicate flesh. You began to writhe in response, needing more friction, needing more of his touch, but he moved his weight upon your body to suppress you. He was teasing, purposely neglecting to give you the stimulation you so desired.

         “Any time you want more, you say my name, little one. Say my name and I can give you everything you desire.”

         “Shinsou, please.”

          He groaned, he himself coming undone at the sound of your voice. He couldn’t even begin to explain how gratifying it was to hear his name come from your lips. He was no fool of a god, he knew no one prayed to him, but he wanted you to pray to him more than anything he had ever desired before. Your songs of praise would fill him in ways a mere mortal could never fathom; your prayers, his name from your mouth, was more intoxicating than any substance Odin had ever created. To have you, a devoted child of the gods, calling his name while he stole your faith away from every other god and claimed it all for himself, fulfilled him beyond measure.

        His touch trailed lowered, finding your puckered pussy pulsing and waiting, ready for him. He entered a single finger, a heavy moan of approval ghosting against your neck as your inner walls contracted around him, pulling him deeper into you.

        “So fucking tight,” he lifted his head, finding your eyes closed and pretty mouth agape, “I can’t wait to have my cock in you.”

          Waves of pleasure rocked over your body as he moved his finger within you, curling it to massage the fleshy walls, quickly finding a sensitive spot to stroke against. His palm pressed against your clit as he buried another finger into you, the two digits working in tandem to spread you, spear you onto his thick fingers, pushing them far into your depths. Every plunge had you gasping, bursts of bliss spreading across your skin like flames.

         His mouth returned to yours as he fingered you, hot and heavy, but his kiss felt controlled, like he was holding back. You reacted quickly, pushing up into him with all your strength, arms circling his neck and pressing him for more. You wanted what he can give, all of it, and you showed him with your actions. Your hands fisted into those vivid purple plumes of hair, tugging as your hips began to match the speed of the hand working within you. You moaned, loud, desperately, your tongue prodding his lips. He graciously accepted your tongue, opening his mouth and wrestling against you. His tongue licked your own, slow and wet, tasting you and groaning at the sweetness.

        “Shinsou,” it was a murmur against his mouth, but he heard it, soaked it up and began to thrust and curl his fingers faster than before. You cried out at the pleasure, mouth falling from his.

         “You like it a little rough, hm? You’re so easy to read, my dear. I am going to make you cum so hard you’ll be begging for all that I have planned for you.”

            His words had your cheeks and ears burning with a blush. He only grinned, choosing to prop himself onto one arm so he could watch you. With every flick of his wrist, every move of his fingers inside of you, he watched your face. He watched how your lips curled, how your jaw clenched. He felt your hands twist in his hair; felt how you would pull on the violet strands in desperation when he touched the perfect spots. His eyes scanned your body as well, watching what made your breasts bounce, your stomach clench, your walls tighten around his fingers. It didn’t take the god long to discover exactly what made you tick.

          He rapidly increased his pace, using his newfound knowledge to make your body feel like it could explode at any moment. He touched you just right, plunged his fingers so perfectly as to keep you on the edge of your euphoria for as long as he could. Truthfully, he could’ve kept you in suspense forever, but Shinsou was not a god known for his patience. He wanted to watch you cum, wanted to see your face when you came around the fingers of perhaps the most reviled deity. One even you wouldn’t dare pray to.

        “You ready?” He called your name, making your eyes flutter open to see him. He saw the lust within your brilliant irises, your dilated pupils, and that sight alone had his cock harder than it ever had been before. He was no longer sure he could keep his composure as he watched you come undone.

        He leaned down closer, close enough to catch your breath within his mouth. He would’ve expected you to kiss him had you not been so far gone, so close to otherworldly release that your lips could no longer form words.

        “Cum for me,” that wicked tone of voice was back, his fingers now slamming into your body, “cum for a god, little mortal.”

         His thumb returned to your clit, showing it no mercy as he rubbed tight, fast circles against it. His words, his fingers, his body, his breath, it was all too much.

        “Sh-Shinsou!”

          You reached a high you had never felt before as you came for him. Your head felt dizzy, like you were back to drowning within your dreams, waves and waves of euphoria crashing over you so roughly you felt like you were sputtering for air amidst the onslaught of pleasure. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his unceasing fingers, your chest tightening, your core exploding, heat blooming from every patch of skin he had dared to touch. You screamed. Over and over, the bliss felt never ending, and he baited you for even more.

       “That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that, just how I want you.”

        It felt like he was drawing your orgasm from your body, pulling everything he could from you. His thumb still stroked your clit, fingers still buried deep within your body as you quivered around him. Your thighs clamped around his thick forearm as you finally began to descend from your high, body loosening and sinking into his bed.

         He finally stilled his movements. He merely smirked as he watched your chest heave with breaths as you basked in the afterglow of your pleasure.

         “Good girl,” he cooed. In the haze you realized how much you wanted to hear those words again, recognized how much you wanted to please him. You wanted more of those encouraging words, more of his admiration, wanted to know how much of a good girl you really were. Your spirit suddenly craved even more, despite the world-shattering orgasm still lingering within your muscles, your blood, your soul.

        You felt empty when his fingers left you, but watched in shocked delight as he brought the digits to his awaiting mouth. He sat up before you, sucking at his skin and cleaning your slick from his fingers with a very greedy tongue. He looked wild, uncaged, like the wolf Skoll had finally eaten the moon and brought the world to end.

       “Fuck,” you whispered in awe, scrambling for purchase against his sheets as you propped on your elbows to watch him.

       He quirked a brow as he slid his tongue between his fingers, relishing your slick as if it was the sweetest honey.

       “I’m sorry, did I make the pious girl curse?”

        “I’m not pious!” You countered, feeling flustered, shaking your head and pouting as he only laughed.

         He smirked as he finished cleaning his fingers, crawling up the bed and pulling you into his lap.

         “I dare not argue, not after those delicious sounds you just made for me.”

          Shinsou quelled any words that were forming in your mind with a kiss, his lips tasting of you. You moaned against him, feeling his arms snake around your back and hold you to him. His cock was hard and heavy, now prodding against your still pulsating pussy.

         “Mhm, how will I take you?”

          It was a pondering to himself, but the words still made you tremble. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your nipples hardening as they brushed against the downy hairs of his chest. His strong hands found the flesh of your ass, lifting you to hover over his large, throbbing erection. You held in a breath, waiting, expecting him to take you hard and fast and now, but he merely teased your entrance.

        “This way?”

          The head of his cock began to spread your lips apart, warm and silken and making you drip even more than before. He sat there for a moment, using the strength of his arms to lift and drop you just ever so slightly onto his cock, each little movement making you gasp.

          But then the anchors of his arms were gone, sliding down your thighs as he laid you back on the bed. So easily he moved on top of you again, one hand gripping your thigh, the other slithering up your body to wrap around your tender, kiss bruised throat.

        “Or perhaps like this?”

         He held you against the bed, cock still hard and waiting between your spread thighs, sliding ever so gently against your pussy. His fingers flexed against your throat and he watched how your eyes flashed with want, with need.

          “I could always take you as a woman. You fell so easily into my kiss when I transformed earlier, hm? Would you like that?”

           He could feel your gulp underneath his palm, shaky and deep.

          “No,” he was smirking, plotting. His deft fingers took your hip into his hand and flipped you over, both hands skimming down your body and pulling you up onto your knees. With a stern hand he kept your breasts pressed into the mattress by applying pressure to your shoulder blades, positioning you just how he wanted. You felt even more exposed than before, your pussy open and wanting and waiting, spread before his hungry eyes like a meal ready to be devoured.

          The head of his cock was back at your opening, prodding your lips apart and slowly sinking into you with agonizing slowness. You held your breath, hands fisting into the sheets. He continued to open you more and more, his cock thick and hot. His hand on your hip constrained you securely, keeping you locked into place. The hand on your back did the same, his hold strengthening as he felt you writhe before him.

        “Yes,” he purred, cock easing into you, “this is how I want my little servant.”

          But the rocking of his hips stopped, the head of his cock now barely pressing inside of you. You breathed heavily against the sheets, sweat trickling down the back of your neck in anticipation. Without being able to see him, face him, you could only feel him. You felt his fingertips press deeper into the curve of your ass, as if readying himself, or perhaps attempting to use restraint. The hand on your back was steady, keeping smooth pressure on your skin. His thighs were solid and strong against your own, his breaths even, his cock so fucking hard.

        You cried out in anguish, your aching pussy clenching around the head of his cock.

       “Please, Shinsou!”

       “Pray to me.”

         His tone was nefarious, teasing, almost inhuman in how deeply it reverberated from within that broad chest. You closed your eyes and imagined how the sound must have climbed the dark branches of the world tree upon his skin.

      “Pray to me like you did to the other gods in the temple. I want to hear that pretty voice beg for me to fuck you.”

        That breathless feeling returned. Your heart began to race, mind rolling around too many thoughts at once that couldn’t be comprehended within your lusty haze. You hastily mulled over words within your head.

         “Shinsou…” you began, feeling his fingers begin to mark crescent moons into your flesh, feeling the tip of his cock throb within your core, “wielder of cunning, god of mischief, I beg of you, please bestow upon me great joy and pleasure, take my body as this offering to you, so that I may serve you and grant you the indulges of the flesh—!”

         With your final praises tumbling from your lips, he slammed his cock deep inside of you, stretching and spreading you and making you feel like he had set your body alight with magic. Your body lurched forward, nearly toppling over from the power of his thrust, but his strong hands kept you in place, allowing him to begin a brutal speed. Your ass bounced forcefully against his hips, breasts jostling with every thrust. One of his hands curled around your waist to your lower stomach, and he groaned when he realized he could feel his cock bulge from inside of you. He became heedless then, impaling you with reckless abandon, eager to feel your belly swell from the onslaught of his cock.

        The forcefulness of his fucking left your muscles aching and your lungs breathless. You were now moaning with every plunge of his cock, as with each stroke he lit a fresh burst of pleasure that rippled across your entire body akin to the streams of enchantments you had seen him wield.

         You felt like you were slipping away, having to fight to keep your thoughts alive as he brought you up the mountain of euphoria with just the heavy strokes of his cock.

        “Don’t fight the currents. Let go for me.” He grunted the words between thrusts.

         You allowed ecstasy to fully wash over your body, allowed his hands to guide you, hold you, take you to far beyond what you once thought the limits of pleasure entailed.

          Shinsou moved the hand from your back to your shoulder, using the leverage to pound your body back against his. You could only moan at the feeling, of being so full of his cock, of hearing his groans join the chorus of your own. You clung to the bed with what strength you have left, allowing him to completely take the reins of control and have his way with you.

          With each and every thrust, he pulled you back at different angles, trying you, testing you, watching you, seeing which way he fucks you makes you react the most. He listened for sharp cries and deep moans. He felt for your walls to flutter, your abdominal muscles to tighten, learned your body and fucked you with a chaotic yet controlled force.

         He leaned over your back, hand moving to your neck, pulling your face up from the sheets. This position has him somehow deeper, head of his cock kissing where the curve of your cavern meets your cervix, farther than any had ever gone before. He filled you to the brim, stretched you so wide you felt you could burst, the intense pleasure of it all bringing tears to the corners of your lashes.

         He brought your face closer to his, so that he can kiss your cheek as he fucks you, feel your hair against his chin, watch your breasts bounce so unabashedly from his force.

         “You like this, hm? Serving me? Letting me fuck you like this?”

         “Yes, yes!”

          He squeezed the hand on your stomach, making you moan as you felt the massive cock from inside of you press against your belly.

        “You like being so full of my cock? No mortal could ever fuck you like I do!”

        “Yes—fuck—you feel so, so good, Shinsou!”

         You could feel sweat on his skin, feel his heart beating like a caged raven within his chest. He felt so human, felt so real, but the euphoria he brought you was transcendental.

        “You’re such a good girl, such a dirty girl, for me, only me.”

         His powerful words were becoming whispers within your hair, vestiges upon your skin. You could only nod, the plowing of his cock into your core now leaving you more breathless than before. You could feel your release nearing, the flames being fanned by every stroke of the head of his cock against your walls, every push of his hand against your belly.

        Your slick was dripping down your thighs, pussy so wet that every time his cock assailed your core your ears were met with the sinful sound of drenched bodies meeting one another in animalistic rut. You were climbing the orgasmic ladder again, aided by the sublime feel of his crushing hands upon your neck, your stomach, his vast chest against your back, rough lips pulling your face into him, and his thick, repetitive cock drumming into you.

      Your mind was on sensory overload, your body uncontrollably bucking against him, begging for another otherworldly release. You could feel your walls clenching around his cock, your body pleading on its own. Pleasure was singing down your body, bringing pure delight and bliss with every pulse, every push of his cock. You were so close, so fucking close, all you needed was for him to allow you to go over the edge. You had submitted to his currents and knew only he could bring the ebb and flow of release.

     You began to chant his name in prayer.

    “Fuck yes, little one, just like that. Oh you’re so good, aren’t you?”

    “Yes, yes,” you choked out, nearly sobbing for relief, “so, so good for you!”

     “Then cum, cum for me!”

      He roared the words against your cheek, his command overwhelming you and sending you spiraling as the waves of euphoria returned, crashing over your body like a tumultuous sea. Your body crumpled underneath his and he held you, the violent tightening of your body sending the god himself over the edge. Hot cum poured inside of you, making you cry out at the magnificent feeling of being completely filled by him. Your snug walls struggled to flutter around the girth of his cock, prolonging your orgasm and making you feel suspended within his arms, gasping for breath and reveling in every dull thump of his cock inside of you.

     He held you for a long moment, hand against your belly, hand around your neck. It was his turn to bask in the afterglow of sex, to feel wholly spent and satisfied with the girl he had handpicked for himself. You were perfect in his arms, hands fisted into his sheets, lips swollen, his seed dripping from where he was still lodged within your depths. You’d let go, allowed him to have you, to take you, and there was no way in the nine fucking realms he was ever letting you go.

     Shinsou kept you within his embrace as he collapsed to the bed, inked chest heaving and Jormungand curling around your back to hold you against him.

    “Mhm, all the scheming I had to do to get you here, in my bed, filled with my cum.”

    “Scheming?” You asked into his chest.

    “What, you didn’t think all those dreams were coincidence, no?”

     You sat up to look at him, all tussled violet hair, kohl on his cheeks smeared, grin upon his lips.

     “And the cats? The owls? All those eyes on you in the dark? All that time spent waiting for you, little one. I even had to whisper my indecent plans to the Seer. Can you imagine that conversation? At least he put it into fun little riddles for you to decipher.”

    “I—I can’t believe you would do all of that, for me. You could’ve just taken me.”

    He snorted at your remark.

     “I did. My hand was forced to interrupt your fucking daily prayer time and beguile you away.”

     You nestled back to him, sinking into his skin, his touch.

     “Well, I am gleefully bewitched.”

      “And to think,” he chuckled, curling a finger under your chin and bringing your eyes to his, “all you had to do was pray to me.”

      You were far too tired for rebuttal, choosing to instead settle with a kiss. He had chosen you. And for that you were filled with adoration, filled with a need to please far greater than you had ever desired to find the veneration of any other god. It was all for him, for a god who had no doubt tricked you into his bed.

__________________________________

This was written for the Citrus Dome writing collab.

[after-witch]

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat. 

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him. 

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way. 

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument. 

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it. 

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie. 

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie. 

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever. 

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck. 

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place. 

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone. 

You fight. 

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you. 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing.  And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you. 

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.

[kamisama-spoops]

a lil bulletpoint hc request. maybe try nanami, tomoe and suirou w a non binary s/o who has many scars on their body? like, most of em come from them bein a fool and tryin to pet a stray cat or jumpin down the stairs for no reason? how would they react to their s/o doin sumthin dumb that results in gettin a scar and sayin 'i wont hessitate to do it agian, dont test me'

stay safe, drink water and dont choke on it🌸

—Reckless s/o with a lot of scars

Character(s): Tomoe, Nanami and Suirou

TW: Scars/ scar mention, injury mention

Notes: Non-binary reader || As a person with a lot of scars from a lot of stupid things that I maybe shouldn't have done but would definitely do again: Yes✨ || Not my clownish self forgetting I had this in my drafts 😭😭

Tomoe

Oh God, someone please give this man a break, he already worries about you so much already

He internally panics like the world is ending when he first sees your scars, mildly confused that they don't seem to bother you at all, yes, but also extremely concerned

His mind is already jumping to a bunch of worst case scenarios over how you go got them

Where you a danger magnet even before he met you???

He knows that you're reckless and somewhat very stupid and can see that the scars are a little old though there are some that seem to be more recent than others so he's checking over you immediately

He'll call you an idiot and tell you not to be so reckless once you tell him where all of the scars are from but you might just miss the way that he keeps a better eye on you, dragging you away from dangerous situations, especially if it's a cat

If you want to pet something so badly, he'll just let you pet him

Only this once though so you hopefully won't try it again

You don't though, as per your words the first time that he had to destroy away from such a situation

Fine then, if you'll be like that, then he'll confine you to your room until you're dying of boredom, that'll stop you from doing stupid things

It does not though and his hair would be graying by now if it wasn't already white, what do you mean you would try to pet a stray cat again, didn't that end badly enough for you the last few times???

"Your ears aren't as soft as a cat's and you don't do that cat thing when I pet you."

"I'm insulted that you're comparing me to some mangy feline and in what world is that sound reasoning to do something like that?! Multiple times?!"

Nanami

Oh no, she's panicking

Now, she's no Tomoe, but the lecture that you get from her-

She's all over the place, not really sure if what to do when she first sees your scars

Like, are you okay? What happened? How did you get hurt?

You're bombarded with questions almost immediately but you can't really blame her, the girl doesn't know how to react

She'll order Tomoe to watch over you when she isn't around because she knows that you're reckless but doesn't know how far this recklessness goes so she isn't taking any risks

Tomoe would watch over you regardless because he does not want to have to deal with her yelling at him but she makes sure

He cannot however do that while you're in class with her, bored out of your mind and already too eager to leave the classroom by the time the bell rings

You stop at the top of the stairs for a second and she watches you stare at the 7 or so steps that lead back to the ground

She isn't fast enough to stop you from catapulting yourself over them, only reaching the 6th step before falling right into the 7th and then down to the ground

Oh my- you are going to give the poor girl a heart attack

It's straight back to the shrine with you and a very long lecture from both Nanami and a few snide comments from Tomoe

"Why would you just jump down the stairs like that?!"

"It got me down the stairs faster."

"Why would that be a good reason to jump down the stairs-?!"

If not for the fact that she didn't want to baby you, you would never be allowed to leave the shrine without first promising her that you won't do something stupid again

Suirou

His touch is so soft when he's checking over your scars to make sure that they haven't healed wrong or something that you would probably think that you're a piece of glass that he's scared to break

His mins immediately goes to the worst case scenario possible, he wouldn't put it past any species to hurt someone but the way that he just silently stares at you for a moment when he finds out that the reason you have so many of these scars is because of your own reckless idiocy is almost funny

Had you not been his s/o he may have made a discreet insulting comment about how clumsy you are but when he calls you clumsy and a little bit daft, it's laced with worry and a tired kind of concern

He doesn't expect you to actively get yourself into situations like those though

Like, why are you climbing into that tree???

Can you not see that it doesn't have footholds???

You can't just ignore how gravity works- oh, never mind, it's too late

You're already falling out of the tree before he manages to get to you and he's so confused that he can't even being himself to help you for a second

He can already see the injury and rushes you off to patch you up, knowing already that there isn't a lot to stop it from scarring

"Youre going to have a scar from this..."

"And I'd do it again without hesitation."

How are you somehow more of a handful than the kids on the mountain?

Tags: @a-chaotic-dumbass @rurifangirl @damnfoxx

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[taeyamayang]

hq boys as fur parents

disclaimer: purely based on how I perceive each character

PRETTY SETTERS ed.

🌃 KAGEYAMAㅡSTRAY PUPPY

a stray dog followed him on his way home from practice one day. he tried to shoo it off but the little puppy has already fallen in love with him. left with no choice, he takes the dog home. he convinces himself that he would let it stay for a night or two until he finds an owner. he hopes hinata is fond of dogs. upon reaching his home, the puppy kept biting onto the hem of his pants as if it's asking him for something. maybe it's hungry, he thought. albeit, having no experience of taking care of a pet he googles 'how to take care of a puppy'. he pulls the handle of the refrigerator open to search for leftover table food. he spoons out marinated sweet pork from the container then proceeded to feed the puppy. he squats down, folding his knees as he observes it eat. "finish it, i can't put it back in the container. don't throw food, you asked for this." he talks to the puppy using his normal voice. the poor dog glances at him for a bit after hearing him talk before going back to devouring the remaining bits and pieces of the pork. shortly after, the puppy falls asleep. it is probably tired from the long walk on the way home. kageyama proceeds with his usual routine. he lies down on his bed tossing a volleyball in his hand. his mind wandering off somewhere mostly about volleyball. a tiny bark surprises him, reminding him of the tiny intruder in his house. he squints at the small puppy wagging its tail next to his bed. its front legs are slightly bent down and his butt in the air. he barks at him one more time. kageyama crosses his eyebrows at the dog. "what do you want?" he says spinning the ball in one hand. the dog barks at him again. his lips purses and his eyebrow raises. "you want to play?" he wiggles the ball in the air making the dog jump excitedly. "alright." he pushes himself off his bed to sit on the floor. he spends the next few hours playing with the puppy until both of them pass out.

🌃 OIKAWAㅡPOMERANIAN

iwaizumi didn't trust him with the dog, obviously, but oikawa insisted on taking care of it for a while until mattsun comes back from vacation. knowing how impatient oikawa can be iwaizumi agrees with his plan but with the condition of sending him an hourly update and a permission to visit his house whenever he wants to. like a parent in shared child custody. the first few hours were smooth sailing and oikawa is high on his horse. he even sent pictures to iwaizumi gloating about his perfect parenting. not until the pomeranian decided to bark consistently at him. even though, he has given it food, toy and even played with it, and a nice comforter to sleep on. "what is it?" oikawa exasperatedly says to the dog. the pom barks at him in response. "do you want me to hold you?" he nears his hand to the dog's torso but it wriggles his hand off as it bounces off the ground catching his hands using its mouth. "i don't understand what you're trying to say. what do you want?!" oikawa's patience is getting thinner. the dog has been barking at him for more than five minutes straight now. an petty idea struck him. if the dog won't shut up then he won't too. he does the thing that only an oikawa breed does; he levels his body down to the ground to meet the dog's eyes before barking back at him. for a second, the dog pulls back tilting its head to the side confused with what he was doing before barking back at him more aggressively this time. this has become some odd battle of dominance. the front door of their house opens to a dark-haired boy. "hey, toru i brought some dog treats." his mouth falls at the sight of a human turned dog. oikawa stops and their eyes meet. "iwa-chan." his voice came out in a whisper. "unbelievable." iwaizumi shakes his head before shutting the door close.

🌃 KENMAㅡCALICO CAT

kenma isn't the best at taking care of a living breathing thing. he barely has the energy to look out for his well-being what more to a pet. but this calico cat outside their house pleads the bare minimum of attention and affection. so, they work perfectly well together. it only asks him for food then it goes off to sleep on their roof and food isn't his biggest problem since he spares her food from dinner. everything was going well until one day when kenma was walking down the empty streets of his neighborhood. he hears a whimpering sound of kittens near his house. no way, he thoughts to himself. but as his footsteps near his home, the sound gets louder. he opens the gate to his home. lo and behold he sees the calico cat with her four kittens in front of their house. "you can't bring them here!" his duffle bag falls from his shoulder as he reprimands the mother cat. the cat meows back in reply. "put them back to where they were before. you only eat here. you don't get to stay here!" the calico cat rubs its body against his leg as it purrs. the kittens follow their mother, surrounding kenma. "you're too many." he puts his face on his hands. his mind go through possible solutions. then it hits him. he fishes his phone out from his bag and his finger navigates through his contacts knowing exactly who to call. he picks up after three rings. "kuroo, the calico cat has kittens. i can't take care of four more cats. take the kittens." he says in one go. kuroo convinces him to house the cat family for now. left with no alternative, kenma agrees. sigh escaping from his mouth. the older promises to find the kittens an owner. the kittens look at him with their big rounded eyes. kenma grunts to himself unable to leave the hungry cats on his porch. he goes to the kitchen to grab spare food and milk. he places the food near the mother cat for her to eat while kenma tilts his head back to taste the milk. "you're lucky the milk isn't spoiled yet. here have it." he pours the milk in a small bowl watching the kittens waddle their way to their fiest.

🌃 AKAASHIㅡOLD ENGLISH SHEEPDOG

generally, akaashi is a perceptive person so that makes it easier for him to see through people or living things and give them what they want. which points us to the fact that he has knacks for taking care of dogs. it's only been a few months since their family adopted an old english sheepdog but the dog has already learned a lot of tricks from him. he knows how to sit, lie down, roll over, and fetch. he has taught their house pet where to pee and poop and the dog follows his orders when he reprimands him for chewing on their slippers. although, still remaing nameless since they adopted him they seem to get along pretty well, to say the least. oddly, though, the dog has a weird habit. it tends to goof around a lot, barking at other dogs to play with while him as he jumps and turn in the air like a fool. he has his tongue out all the time and his eyes are round yet droopy as if he was excited yet sleepy at the same time. the dog also loves praises. every trick has to be followed by praises and treats. if you skip the praises though still giving him the treats the old english sheepdog goes through what seems like a cycle of depressive thoughts. weirdly, it reminds him of someone. someone with the same habits and same way of thinking. even the coat of the nameless english sheepdog reminds him of him. the next day during break from practice their manager, kaori, approaches akaashi to ask him about his new still nameless dog. "how do you teach it when it doesn't have a name yet?" she questions him. " I call him 'boy' before. though, it has a name now." akaashi says crossing his arms over his chest. "what is it?" kaori's eyes glimmer in curiosity only for it to dissipate as his point finger leads her sight to grey and black-headed boy. the subject of interest then turns his head pulling a big smile. "you called for me, akaashi?" bokuto says. his dog's name is bokuto.

a/n: thanks for reading!

Masterlist

[glowingbadger]

You may have a little Lorenz Prompt as promised. As a treat. Here goes~

Lorenz taking thorough notes to surprise his s/o (is it the blog owner? the reader? some random character? It doesn't matter~!) with the most lovely, romantic date imaginable based around everything they like. He wouldn't put in this much effort to TRULY impress someone, but you're worth every step and more.

Enjoy where this takes your thoughts~!

(and pls don't eat it, Tumblr)

Y'know what, I've had a shitty day and I just finished writing some darker content- so I am going to ~indulge~. Normally I try to make my Reader character as broadly relatable as possible, but today we're going with MY preferences and interests because I WANT A NICE DATE WITH LORENZ GODDAMNIT

Lorenz (FE3H) x GN Reader - perfect date

Fluff - SFW

Today simply has to be flawless- the Gloucester heir will not accept any less. Not when it comes to you. Of course, Lorenz holds himself to high standards in all things, but the thought of providing anything less than perfection for you is one that pains him to even consider. Especially now that he'd finally gotten the courage- or, rather, found the right and proper time to ask you to spend the day with him.

You approach him at the Monastery gates not long after noon that day, and find your pace slowing as you eye him before he's noticed you. Without his usual elegant set of armor, you can appreciate the way constant marching and training has toned his slender frame- and appreciate it, you most certainly do. Though he soon turns to face you, and your eyes dart back up from a rather ignoble place to meet his instead.

"You're as radiant as ever, I see," he says with a warm smile. He offers you an arm and you take it, replying with a grin,

"You've already got me for the day, Lorenz, there's no need for flattery."

"'Flattery' implies a measure of falsehood," he says with confidence, leading you towards town, "and I could never bring myself to lie to one so lovely."

As your time together proceeds, you can't help but feel that, some way, somehow, Lorenz has some kind of psychic insight into your preferences. Everywhere you turn, whatever your heart could desire is immediately available and set before you with hardly any negotiation at play. At the first flower stall you find, Lorenz takes a moment to exchange words with the owner while you admire the sprawling array of colorful blooms; and by the time he's returned, he's holding a woven crown of delicate little white flowers. With an admiring smile, he carefully places it on your head, a hand trailing down a lock of your hair as he pulls away to observe you.

With a shy grin, you perform an exaggerated curtsy, prompting Lorenz to laugh fondly and take you by the hand. He twirls you slowly under his arm, watching you all the while, then says,

"They suit you every bit as wonderfully as I'd thought."

"They're my favorites," you reply.

"I know- erm, that is- I know of a superb bakery down the block this way," Lorenz seems a bit red in the face, but you chalk that up to nerves.

He's not wrong though- this bakery is something else. The selection and quality of ingredients is on an entirely new level compared to the Monastery's dining hall, and you find yourself overwhelmed even reading down the list of items posted to the wall. By your third pass over the full range of options, the words are starting to dance in your eyes- but a warm touch at your arm shakes your focus. Lorenz leans close to be heard over the rapidly growing crowd at the bakery's counter,

"Might I make a recommendation?" you nod, and he goes on, "I happen to have it on good authority that there's an item not included on this menu that you may like. It incorporates three different treatments of Brigid cocoa, if that is of any interest to you."

Your eyes light up and you can practically feel the rich sweetness across your tongue already.

"That sounds incredible," you reply, enraptured by the very thought. When you start to ask how he'd heard of such a thing, Lorenz has already turned to speak to the worker taking orders, and your words drown among the crowd of customers. The speed at which he acquires this mythical pastry only fills your mind with more questions. How did he manage to purchase an off-menu item so quickly? Wouldn't the cost of something requiring those many luxurious imported ingredients be astronomical?

But then, Lorenz returns to your side and guides you out of the crowded shop, and the sight of the delectable chocolatey treat in his hands dashes all other thoughts from your mind. He hands it to you wrapped in a handkerchief, and you can't help but immediately plunge in for a bite.

"Mmmm-!" you wear an expression of pure bliss as your mouth fills with sweet, savory chocolate, "Oh- Lorenz, it's so good!"

When you glance up at him, he's watching you with a strangely heavy expression. Once more, his fair complexion is painted a light red. You tilt your head curiously, and he seems to resurface from whatever thoughts had taken him for the moment.

"Here- you should try some," you break off a piece and hold it up to him.

"Are- are you certain? I had intended for you to enjoy it to your heart's content," he stammers out, evidently still a bit flushed.

"I want you to get to have some too. Please?" You hate to resort to puppy eyes with him, but it's hard to argue with the results. He leans forward and accepts the piece of pastry from your hand. You don't shy away from him in the slightest, and so a brief brush of his lower lip along the tip of your finger simply can't be avoided. Lorenz does his best to move past this without acknowledgement, and you two enjoy your treat together as you take in the bustle of the town around you.

The day continues in kind, with Lorenz apparently having painstakingly arranged every element of this date from start to finish. At a local seller of antiques and luxury goods, he secures permission to view and explore rare and dazzling paintings from around the world. Here, he's rather uncharacteristically reserved. Wandering the storage area like your own personal art museum, he watches you with evident warmth as you exclaim at the rich and varied pigments, the innovative expressions of human form, and so on.

After this, he brings you to a tavern at the far end of town, where he's reserved the second floor exclusively for you two to enjoy a quiet, intimate meal together. By this point, you've finally gotten around to considering just how much gold must have gone into this singular date.

"Lorenz," you say cautiously, "are you sure it's okay to go through all of this and spend so much just for-"

He raises a hand to cut you off, then replies,

"I assure you that it is," he takes your hand in his, holding it warmly from across your private table, "wealth has no value that we ourselves do not assign to it, and I have chosen to spend it on your pleasure. I can think of no greater use for a bit of coin."

The rest of the early evening is filled with pleasant chat and the occasional subtle sweet-talk. As you discuss everything you've seen and experienced that day, Lorenz engages you with surprisingly astute comments and observations. He's always at his best when he feels permitted to simply talk with you, as one person to another, free of the pressures and expectations of his birthright that he shoulders without a thought.

The sun is steadily lowering behind the hills and walls of the surrounding town by the time you make your way back together. As you walk hand in hand watching the Monastery gates rise ahead of you, Lorenz clears his throat abruptly and says,

"If I may steal you away for just a little while longer, there was... actually someone I thought you'd like to meet."

"Oh? What an honor," you say with a smile, "Do I get any hints?"

Lorenz gives a good-natured chuckle and says,

"Only that I think you'll get along splendidly."

And of all places throughout Garreg Mach's grounds, you begin to recognize that he is leading you towards the stables. You've met Lorenz's horse before- a lovely mare with a calm and agreeable temperment. If not her, then...

"Eloise?" Lorenz calls out in a gentle voice, "Eloise, come say hello- Ellie? Come now, don't tell me you've chosen tonight to become bashful..." at his call, a svelte black cat with delicate little white paws comes trotting out to meet you. Your heart positively aches and melts at the sight of her eagerly approaching Lorenz with clear comfort and familiarity.

"Lorenz, you... have a cat?" You say with obvious disbelief.

"She's one of the Monastery's strays, to be clear," he says, "She helps with the mice in the stables. Evidently, she had become quite fond of my preferred horse- and so eventually became fond of me as well."

Fond seems an understatement- she very clearly adores him. With a chorus of happy little mews, she circles his legs and rubs against him until he crouches down to offer her his hand. As he does, a shred of parchment flutters from his pocket onto the ground. Eloise targets it like a seasoned warrior and pounces at it with gusto. With a laugh, you kneel down to retrieve whatever this paper she's captured might be.

"Now Eloise, none of that- you must behave genteel-like with guests."

As he firmly lectures the cat, you glance at the paper in your hand. Nearly every inch of it is covered in an elegant, curling script that you imagine must belong to Lorenz. It looks like a... list of some kind. As your eyes scan down the page, you begin to recognize a pattern. Your favorite flowers, favorite desserts, favorite types of books and places around town- plus, to the side, the word "cats?" underlined several times. For a moment, you simply cover your mouth to hold in a snort of laughter. Then, you come to kneel beside Lorenz as he's failing to convince his feline friend to stop swatting at his hair.

"So- you've been taking very thorough notes lately." you say, nudging his arm playfully. He turns to face you with an immediate look of panic. Lavender eyes widen and glance down to the parchment in your hand, then back to you. He visibly deflates and says,

"Goddess- you must find me such a fool-"

You press your lips firmly to his before he can say another word. With a soft noise of surprise, his eyes flutter shut and he leans into your kiss. His lips are wonderfully soft, and the subtle scent of his cologne surrounds your senses as you tilt your head to seal your lips to his more firmly. You're not certain how long you remain like this, but only the dull ache of kneeling on the dirt and the incessant sound of Eloise bapping her paw against the paper in your hand bring you back to your surroundings. When you part from him, you brush aside the silky curtain of his hair to run your hand along his face, and say,

"I had a wonderful time today, Lorenz- and it means the world to me that you put so much thought into this. But next time, you don't have to study so hard, okay?"

For a moment, he seems speechless. Then, he gives a shy chuckle.

"You have bested me yet again, it would seem. How can I ever hope to become a man worthy of you when you are ever more lovely with each passing day?"

Eloise gives an insistent chirp and rubs once more against his leg, evidently tired of distractions from the attention she feels she's owed. Your smile widens, and you scratch her ear fondly.

"I think there's at least two of us who like you just as you are, Lorenz."