#this man is a cat - feed him and scratch him behind the ear some and he’ll never leave

[archerdork]

izzy being shown a modicum of love, care and inclusion by the crew and immediately going b99 rosa “I’ve had this for a day and a half-“ ride or die for them is everything to me tbh

[dmitriene]

simon riley being a cat dad, a brooding man with a black lump so similar to him it's almost comical, the cat's muzzle is elongated and serious, sharp, dark orbs of eyes so focused and heavy that you almost mistake the cat for being a human in disguise, if not for cat's tipical, animal behavior.

you didn't even suspected simon has a pet, until he invited you to the modest comfort of his home, and the first thing that met you on the doorstep, apart from the dim apartments, was a hissing, graceful ball of dark fur and sharp malice, bowing off on it's paws, gazing at you with hostility.

chewing at your shoes when you both don't see it, chomping on simon's hands when he curls them around the curve of your waist, slapping your hands off with a paw when you try appease the cat by scratching behind it's ears, anything to try and make you leave the home that doesn't belongs to you, an intruder.

still, the cat warms up to you in due time just like simon once did, through careful brushes of your arms, simple, praising words, and even feeding, the black brat starts to settle in a sleeping bundle on your lap, rubbing it's wet nose against your warm palm for some tender pats, mimicking simon's head rubbing against your shoulder.

too similar, in their shared love for you, wanting to get your attention as much as possible, simon's grumbles of your name mingle with the cat's loud, hoarse meows when you're not paying attention to them, your needy boys, curled against the sides of your body, cuddled close, a family you wouldn't trade for anything.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[poksmimi]

" FEEDING THE HEAT IN HIM ! " ;pt one

contains; yandere!catboy!scaraxgn reader, yandere, smut, masturbation, dubcon(?), voyeurism, childe is mentioned. If there are grammar mistakes or nothing making sense in a sentence, please tell. I will fix it! ^^

His tail wags behind him, a bell ringing due to the bell being tied on his tail, you smiled and his hands touch the bell. Amusing you with it, you turn your head away as his cat ear twitches, he stares at you. His eyes are unfocused as he stares at you, your thighs, your ass and your chest, his heart is racing and he can hear it beating from his ears. His eyes sharpen when you let the excited dogboy's head, the freckled face man, Childe. "Awwh! You did such a great job, childe. 'm proud of you, sweetie!" You praise him, scara's jaw tightens and his sharp nails dig into the couch, glaring at the dogboy. Scara, has to fight an urge to go after the dogboy, his sharp nails making a deep scratch mark in the couch, Childe walks away, not behind leaving a smug smirk on his face, scara icks. You smile and turn to scara, your soft lips which he wishes was on his, his tongue runs against his top teeth, scara's dick is aching. His tail can't stop wagging, your scent was so good, everything about you was sending blood to his dick. His dick felt so painful in his short. He knows that you must seen it but probably teasing him, he wants your sweet hole wrapped around his hard dick, fastly thrusting in your hole. You pat his head before getting up, stretching and mentioning something about taking a bath, scara just stares and watches you leave, your scent was still lingering around him. After some moments, he gets up and goes to that bathroom door, peaking inside, his eyes darting around until it lands on you, his eyes widen at the sight. Your bare naked body, your skin, your nipples and your sex, the sight of you alone, almost makes him cream his shorts, he breathes heavily, his cheeks flushing red, his dick was so hard right now, his hand slowly reaches down, resting on his chub, he massages t gently, his tail wagging furiously. He lets out a small growl, watching your hand connect to your sex as you touch yourself, your fingers dancing around your sex, pleasuring yourself. His hand rubs more faster, his heat made him more needy and he was so close to already cumming, he lets out groans, closing his eyes as he imagines yourself touching your sex infront of him, masturbating, teasing him as you only let the tip of his hard aching dick in your tight hole. His head leans against the doorframe, his hand rubbing more faster, his cat ears go stiff, he bites his lower lip when he feels himself about to climax, he bites his hand to muffle his moan, his dick spurts out his sperm, wetting his underwear and shorts, he mewls and looks down, peaking one more before walking away and going back to his room, cleaning himself up, his dick goes back to being hard, his heat was greedy for more pleasure, gluttony for more pleasure as well, his dick throbs. He grabs a used underwear of yours, wrapping it around his dick as he fucks the used underwear, it already had jizz stains on it, his dick had lots of pearly pre-cum, leaking outside so much, his eyes are closed as he only focuses on the pleasure, picturing you. Oh what he will do for you, he already killed some people, useless worthless people, he will do anything for you to keep yourself to him only, I mean you will not care if he's gone, he's just a mutt. He lets out a loud moan, throwing away the fact that you're still here, his hand going faster. His hand is basically covered in his precum now, he's so deep in the pleasure that he yelps and blushes when someone touches his hard dick, he opens his eyes and sees you, his face is beet-root red. You smile at him and stroke his cock head.

[ariseur]

How do you think Arthur Morgan would react to a reader who has a great connection with animals? The reader knows how to calm animals, from horses to pigs and chickens, she also ensures that the animals have a good food and she will always be seen with a cat or a dog in her arms.

animal whisperer 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

arthur morgan x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

this request was sooo cute!! sorry it took me a little while to complete it, i’ve been working on like fifteen different drafts at once !! 💗

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of animals ( dogs, cats, horses ), mentions of arthur getting bucked off of his horse 😭, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ let me start this off by saying that i think arthur would literally adore you and your presence. like, he already thinks you’re such a beautiful lady and that you’re amazing within your own, but seeing you so domestic with animals does something to him.

❥ arthur’s lived a hard life, he’s calloused and struggles with letting himself enjoy some of the nicer moments in life alone. but when he finds you, it feels like all of the toughness that everybody sees melts away. all he wants is you, and now that’s he’s experienced the feeling of you, he never wants to let that go

❥ if you have a more curt and blunt nature to yourself, but you just melt around animals? oh, man— he’ll do anything to see that side of you. whenever it slips out and he sees you care so much for the horses or actually supply them with hay bales and proper necessities, his eyes will always follow you curiously

❥ and even if you’re a super sweet and outwardly kind person, he’ll still adore you!! he thinks it’s cute how you care so much for animals even if he wont say it to you, he has a fondness for animals too— except it’s more so updating his compendium and hunting them rather than taking them under his wing and feeding them 😭

❥ if you have a dog, he will love that baby to death let me tell you. doesn’t matter if they’re mangy or a mutt or even purebred, he will love them regardless. if we’re going based off what dogs you can get in rdo, i think he’d get along with a chill bigger dog— but even if your dog was energetic or more on guard like a chesapeake bay retriever or a labrador retriever, he will still adore them. i can just imagine arthur with a little guard dog by his side walking through camp as it follows him everywhere. having a dog will probably make him remember his old dog copper as he tells you tales of his journeys with him at night while rubbing your dog behind the ear as it lays its head on his lap.

❥ arthur’s not really a cat person but he won’t mind if you have one!! cats are very independent and he understands that so he’ll give them their space until one day they just like.. drape themselves over his lap and he has no idea what to do. he feels bad if he stands up but like.. he doesn’t know what else to do 😭

❥ and while i’m writing this i’m thinking of how in the game, micah would literally kick the crap out of cain in rdr2 and would scold him for no reason :(((. let me just say that arthur would literally not stand for that ( and yes i only write for high honor arthur, but i feel like regardless of his honor he wouldn’t be okay with it either way ). also why am i imagining micah getting bit or scratched and arthur just like laughing at him— like even him and your animal share a look because do you see this utter buffoonery? micah’s more of an animal than anyone if we’re being honest

❥ if you don’t like seeing him hunt or watching him skin animals, then he’ll suggest you turn away or he’ll point out something in the distance ( probably another cute animal prancing around or something ), and if it’s something small like a rabbit or a bird then it’ll be done in no time and he’ll redirect your attention back to him, jumping back on his horse and saying you guys should continue on with your journey

❥ if you need him to stop by to get any necessities or food for the animals at camp, he’ll stop by on his way back and get them the proper things they need. if you thank him, he’ll just brush it off and say it’s no problem— ( he was like two counties away but he’d gladly go back if you needed him to do so ).

❥ in summary, i feel like arthur would do really great with a partner with pets or a love for animals in general. he doesn’t get the fascination too much but he’ll support you nonetheless, as long as you don’t get hurt trying to pet something that looks cute when it’s not lmfao.

❥ holy crap i need jelp whyisa rthjrorhajgan so fne

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“shh.. calm down, boy.” with your hands held out cautiously, you slowly approached ARTHUR’s bucking horse— the tennessee walker’s chestnut coat glimmering in the sun as it shone on its back. its alarmed neighs filled the air with only the distant rushing of water to accompany it, along with arthur’s huffs behind you as he caught his breath.

“‘s alright.” you cooed at the horse, waiting until its breaths slowed down slightly before you moved closer. your arms slowly extended out to reach his snout, his eyes widened and looking everywhere but you. you softly shushed as you halted your movements. your hand hovered over the white of his proboscis before finally placing a gentle hand on its nose, feeling its heavy breathing upon your arm.

“i still dont— fff.. get how you.. do ‘at.” arthur wheezed, bent over with his knees supporting him as he placed firm hands on them. he let out a breathy laugh, tipping his head up so you could catch a glimpse of his eyes under the brim of his hat. “i dunno what he even gotten spooked over.” he shook his head, watching as you pulled out a small carrot from your pocket and carefully fed it to his horse who munched on it in delight.

you didn’t pay him a glance as you were enveloped in the tenessee walker instead, smiling as you replied, “probably just somethin’ in the grass.”

“fair ‘nuff.” he shrugged, brushing himself off before placing a hand on his back while he winced. arthur sucked some air between clenched teeth as he struggled to stand upright. “think he got somethin’ in my back, too.” with a string of muttered curses, he hunched over once again.

your head turned this time, still focused on giving small pats to the horse’s nose as you tilted your head. brows furrowed, you asked, “need me to get you something from outta town?”

“naw, ‘s fine—“

“arthur, i was heading out that way already,” you pointed a thumb behind you— leading his vision to your horse stationary in the distance, tapping its hooves against the ground as it waited. he looked back at you as you held a gentle smile on your face and continued, “i don’t mind stoppin’ for something.”

arthur sighed, his fingers still kneading his lower back as he let out an occasional groan.

he let the silence take hold on the situation for a second, contemplating his options. letting his fingers twist and grab at the grass beneath him— his eyes flickered between the two horses, and then finally back to you. realizing it wouldn’t make a difference and you’d probably get it anyway, he waved a dismissive hand around and finally nodded his head.

“yeah, sure.”

𐙚 taglist ; @maskedteaser

[elliespuns]

Just imagine Joel coming back home from patrol and he's got his jacket zipped up. Then Ellie hears a tiny "meow" coming from his jacket and is like "what's that???" and he opens up the jacket and this tiny black kitten just pokes its head out and meows at Ellie 🤧🤧🤧

Ellie's eyes widen in disbelief, tears of joy pricking at the corners. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she exclaims incredulously.

Joel smirks and opens his jacket a little more, revealing more of the tiny black, but smudgy kitten that weighs next to nothing. "You've already had your birthday, but I mean..." he says, gently scratching the little thing behind its ears.

"No way, seriously?" Ellie can't believe it. Had this hardened old man really softened up just for a kitten?

Joel rolls his yes playfully. "He wouldn't leave my side when I told him about you."

"Oh, shush!" She giggles as she reaches for the tiny thing, carefully picking it up and snuggling it to her chest. "Did you say it was he?" She asks, not paying attention to Joel anymore as she becomes preoccupied with how soft the kitten's fur is.

"Mm-hmm." The weary old man lets out a heavy sigh as he plops down on the couch, thoroughly exhausted from his long 12-hour shift. "Reach into my pocket. There's a can of tuna." He instructs, his voice soft with affection as he glances over at the girl. The sight of her happiness never fails to bring a smile to his weathered features. He would move heaven and earth to keep that joyful sparkle in her eyes. "Feed that little asshole."

Ellie gives him an indignant frown, her eyes scrunched up with mock anger. "Hey! Don't talk to my baby like that!" She chides playfully, turning her attention back to the cat and pressing a kiss to its furry head, hearing it purr.

"He deserves it." Joel retorts, holding up his scratched and bleeding hand in proof of the cat's misdeeds. "He's got some claws." He adds, wincing slightly as he re-examines the wound.

"Orion surely didn't mean to do that." Ellie defends the tiny ball of fluff responsible for her old man's hurt. "I mean, have you taken a look at yourself? Poor little guy was probably terrified out of his mind when he saw you."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." He chuckles, letting her poke fun at him. He loves nothing more than this. "Orion, huh?" He raised an eyebrow at such an unusual name.

"It's a space thing." She grins, cradling the black fur baby in her arms before hugging it close to her chest. "And he is now a new respectable resident of Jackson." She makes a funny face at Joel, her eyes shining with love to the sound of the little meows.

"Okay, okay. I get it." He jokes, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "I can't believe how easy it was for me to get replaced like this."

Gently holding the cutest creature she's ever seen in real life, Ellie sits next to Joel. "Thank you." She says quietly, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his bearded cheek, conveying her gratitude.

Joel wouldn't expect this, but he knows this moment is precisely what gives his life its true meaning and purpose.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i'm not sure if that's true but i've seen somewhere that bunnies can symbolise fake innocence so...,.,.. (also im so sorry this is so long :,))) )

idk maybe just the image of women in könig's head seems to be something similar? they're sweet and helpless and need someone bigger to protect them. in that way they hold more power - no one ever assumes that a woman could be cruel or downright evil.

and so does könig, even though it's almost a conscious choice to him. he'll let women use him and manipulate him so long as he gets the privilege of being approached by them first despite being visibly much bigger and stronger. and that also being exactly the same as people feeling special when someone's pet likes them, especially cats (usually very distant and seemingly unaffectionate) or bunnies (again, easily scared and also distant in their own way) 🥲

(and speaking of this. i keep thinking about an au where. idk how but reader and köni simply go to the same church (possibly with their families) and he sees her as this sweet innocent girl and their families know each other so well and his parents love her but she turns out to be the one who shows him that sex outside of marriage is actually very fun and so is witchcraft lmao 😭 im sorry)

I’m so into the whole bunny thing, esp after what Orla & Syl (@/konigsblog and @/comfortless) just posted…….

I'm 110% sure that König gets both protective and predatory over someone (seemingly) innocent and meek, he's drawn to her like a bee to honey. His mind and soul and hands are so dirty that he seeks redemption through protecting this adorable little woman who reminds him of a helpless pet. He wants to feed and protect and stroke her, make her love him and only him, with her, he becomes the epitome of a pick me boy. He just wants her to be his little bunny girl, let him scratch her from behind the ear or some place else...

And our shy but endearing bunny babe doesn’t dare to tell this big, affectionate giant that he’s trying to make it look like she’s the dumb, clueless one in this scenario when in reality, König is the one who’s on a leash here... Poor guy! With every little wink of her imaginary tail, she gets him to do whatever she wants: manipulating this big dork is laughably easy. Not that she wants him harm, but who wouldn’t want to play cat and mouse with someone who’s basically asking for it? She can provide him the rush of the chase he so seeks, just a small bite of her lip makes this poor man hot and bothered already.

König always apologizes for getting carried away, for being a little too rough with her when he kisses her raw and gets a little handsy. He doesn’t want to seem demanding or coercive: but she’s just so sweet that he can’t take it… He's about to cry and wank and crumble during his pathetic confessions to her, only she can grant him mercy, always being so lenient with his heated advances. He's just a weak man, she's too good for him, bla bla bla – she pets his head while he sighs in her tits, hard again after just cuddling her.

They have to wait until marriage, that's what he always pants when hovering above her, so hard she can feel his whole cock through her dress. She’s going to make a grown man cry soon with those vein-popping boners she gives him, and the hardest part is to stifle her giggles at how easy it is to tease this poor guy... König doesn’t even know that she’s not that innocent, far from a virgin actually with how she’s fantasizing about him every night with her 6” dong with suction cup. One time he almost caught her playing with herself when he came rushing back to her room after forgetting some godforsaken book there...

[orangelemonsstuff]

SOOO THOUGHT!!! UH, FIRST YEARS AS CHILDHOOD FRIENDS???? I MEAN YES LETS GOO

Imagine child Ace and Deuce were the first one you met and they were fighting about something, could be Ace teasing Deuce then Deuce punched him and then they fight, you have to hold Deuce back because Ace was definitely losing, and since you have extra pennies to buy candies you treat them to ones but you'll only give it to them if they made up!

after few days of being friends you three come across a fiercy gray stray kitty, he scratched up Ace and Deuce so you call him Grim and you three begs (or steal) food from your home to feed it everyday

Jack comes next to your group, you met him through your elementary school and started hanging with him, Including Ace and Deuce, he does say you three are annoying but he never shoos you three and sometimes comes with you to feed the cats or just go play on the playground

another days come by, recess and you came across a cute girl... uhh climbing an apple tree? the three of you watched as she fell down and running up to her crying, apparently "she" was a boy and his name was Epel, he was trying to get the apple from the three because he forgot his lunch from his grandma and he is really hungry, in the end, all of you you shared some of your food from your lunches to him to prevent him from climbing up again.

next one is a meanie, his name was Sebek, he kept bullying you and following you around calling you "human" because he thinks he is smarter than you, your friends defended you from him (including the cat) which made him cry from guilt and run away from you all, you felt bad from making the crocodile boy cry so you follow him and you comfort him, then lead him to your friends to apologize.

AND JUST IMAGINE THIS!! (think like the main gang from omori)

All 5 of you walking home together following the leader sorta stuff (of course the leader was you), sleepovers at everyone's house (Sebek's room is filled with posters of what he calls "Amazing Malleus-Sama!!" which you assume is a cartoon character) and then going on Halloweens in your little costumes together!! you five would tell scary stories about each other idk sam the boogey man or something to scare each other and it mostly ends up with Ace scaring Deuce and then ends up paying for it, Jack , Epel, and Sebek would act tough like they're not scared but seconds later Ace would pop out behind their back and scaring them. PICNICS!! when someone fights at your group (usually Ace and Deuce) you are the one to settle them down with trinkets like candies or toys. when you all need to study for a test or do homework, Jack would teach you all but it ends up with all of you rough housing in the end, books and papers forgotten.

on weekends or summertimes where all of you are free, you play with them from morning to afternoon and when you get hungry, no worries!! Epel has a basket of apples to go! he always carry it with him whenever you all play outside, on the playground, the stony low water river, or catching bugs at the nearby outskirt forest. don't worry about even getting lost, Sebek's loud voice would always find your ears and all you need is follow it because he doesn't want to catch bugs since it's unbeing of a "soldier of Malleus" as he says. as Ace scare him with a beetle while running and screaming. afternoons when al of you need to go home, you all share sodas and ideas what to do next day tomorrow, and before some of the weekend or summertime ends all of you had a tradition to sleepover at one of you's houses.

OHHH HOW CUTE THAT IS ISN'T IT???? BUT THIS ALL MY HEAD GOT I LEAVE THE REST TO YOU GUYS, I JUST LOVE CHILDHOOD TROPE SO MUCH!! IT HAS ALOTS OF DYNAMIC AND ACTUAL TIME WHERE THE MC AND THEIR FRIENDS USUALLY BUILDS UP THEIR FRIENDSHIO OMG THATS ALL BYE!!!

[sadhours]

neon lights pt. 2 | b.h x reader

18+ minors dni - prev chapter . next chapter contents: adult themes, brief mentions of smut, gambling addiction Your eyes open one at a time, uncovering the blonde sleeping soundly in front of you. You gasp, sitting up abruptly and looking down at your bodies to confirm your suspicion. You’re both naked, covered by your deep purple sheets. Shit, you did it, you slept with your roommate. You two must’ve tripped into it in a drunken stupor. That much is evident as your head pounds and you see the bottle of Jameson more than half empty on your nightstand. You groan, feeling the soreness between your legs and looking over at Billy sleeping without a care in the world next to you. If only you’d remembered it.

“Billy,” you shove him awake, pulling the sheets up to cover your chest. “Billy, wake up!”

He moans out, “Five more minutes, please.”

“No! Billy, we had sex last night. Wake up!” you demand, the dull pain piercing through your head as you yell.

He abruptly sits up, eyes wide now as he peeks under the covers at his lack of clothes. “Maybe we just got naked? Maybe we didn’t actually do it,” he reasons, turning to you with worry in his eyes.

“Oh we did. I can feel it,” you counter.

He rubs his eyebrows between his hand, squinting his eyes shut. Some flashes of the night appearing behind them. Drunken laughs as he propped your leg up, his face between them. He remembers faintly the MTV playing on television as he ate you out, your fingers roughly pulling at his curls. He feels his dick fill out beneath the sheets, pitching a tent for you to see.

You groan, “Oh, god, Billy!”

“I can’t help it!” he says defensively, trying to will the boner away.

“This is bad, we can’t do this,” you tell him, standing up and when he sees your naked figure, he knows his erection isn’t going away anytime soon.

You throw on the first thing you find but Billy’s giving you an awkward smile, “That’s my shirt.”

You take it off and throw it at him, seeing him squirm from his obvious arousal. “Ugh, can you get rid of that thing?!”

Billy gets off the bed, the sheet leaving to reveal his member bouncing as he stands up. Oh, no, he’s huge, you groan. “Billy!” You exclaim and he quickly covers it with his shirt, excusing himself to the bathroom. And then you’re imagining him stroking himself behind the closed door. God this was bad, that’s why this is bad. Billy was not your usual type, he was too pretty. You liked your men a little rough looking, biker dudes usually your go to. Billy was just too attractive for it to not be dangerous. He was the kind of dude you’d throw your whole life away for if he’d asked. Which was not good. You’d had it once before and that man had left because you wouldn’t quit dancing.

When Billy emerges, his hairs wet and you picture him jacking off in the shower. No! You shake your head, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and crack an egg in the pan you’d been heating up.

“Ah, and she cooks breakfast afterwards,” Billy says with a smirk, walking into the kitchen dressed in lounge clothes. You’d wished one of you were scheduled today so you wouldn’t have to talk about what happened.

“Shut up,” you seethe and Billy pours himself a cup of coffee, bringing to his lips and sipping it eagerly.

You grab the creamer from the fridge to sweeten your coffee, slapping Billy’s hand when he reaches for the bacon you’d just pulled out of the pan. It could be so easy to just fall into things since you two already lived together. But you knew what would happen. He smiles when he hears meowing, walking over to the pantry and grabbing a can of cat food and you mentally slap yourself for forgetting to feed her. Billy kneels down in front of her bowl, dumping of the tuna as she rubs against his legs. With a grateful meow aimed at Billy, your cat eats. You hadn’t been the best owner and Billy really picked up your slack.

“Hungry girl, eh Truffle?” he says, scratching behind her ear.

“Slipped my mind,” you curse, flipping your egg and reaching for the pack of smokes on the counter. You light one up as Billy shrugs.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he smiles and takes a cigarette for himself.

The nicotine feels nice but everything else makes you feel a bit nauseous, the first cigarette after a night of drinking was always the worst. You’d noticed the opposite seemed the case for Billy, having the smoke the first thing he did in the morning no matter what the night before was like. You crack another egg into the pan, dishing a plate up for Billy and handing it to him.

“Mm, thank you,” he hums, taking a seat at the table.

You don’t bring it up again until you’re doing the dishes, Billy coming up behind you and pressing sweet kisses up the back of your neck while his hands grab your hips. It feels amazing and in spite of what you know is right, you melt into his touch for a bit. But the moment is short lived, ripping your gloves off and turning to him.

“No, Billy,” you huff, “We can’t do that.”

He sighs and leans on the counter opposite from you, “Why not?”

“Because, it’ll complicate everything. The roommate thing works for me,” you explain. “Plus, we work together and in this line of work, I have to pretend like I want to fuck every man who walks in that building. You can’t possibly want to watch that if we’re romantically involved.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, “I’m a big boy, I’m fully aware of what your job entails.”

You shake your head, “I’m serious, okay? We can’t.”

He thinks for a beat, “Fine. We won’t. Back to business as usual.”

“Thank you,” you say, watching as he walks back to his room where you don’t see him for the rest of the day and that isn’t business as usual. You worry it’s already been ruined.

Luckily, things return to normal. Almost. Billy brings home women more often than before but you’re happy for him. The girls are always a little too loud, you think, screaming behind the paper thin walls. You roll your eyes whenever you hear it, they have got to be faking. You wished you remembered your guys’ night because maybe, just maybe Billy was actually that good. You’d never truly know.

Your sitting on the couch when Billy walks the latest one to the taxi he’d called for her. She’s very pretty, wearing a cocktail dress and very high heels. You wonder if he met her at the casino. He still had a gambling issue, but he wasn’t late on rent ever. Billy never paid for food but you didn’t mind feeding him. He made up for it in more ways than one. He’d been the perfect roommate.

He plops down beside you, cracking open a beer and lighting a cigarette. His face is all flushed with his blonde curls wildly roused but he still looks like those heartthrobs in the teenybopper magazines. It’s his pink, pouty lips and his blue eyes framed by thick eyelashes, you think. He sees you looking at him and asks, “Have I grown a second head or something?”

You scoff, turning your eyes back to the television, “No, you just look like you’ve done some strenuous activity.”

Billy chuckles, taking a swig of his beer after he humbly agrees, “That I did.”

He kicks his feet up on the coffee table and you roll your eyes, at least he took his boots off this time. “Gross,” you chide and snatch the cigarette from him, taking ownership of it. “Thanks for lighting me a cigarette.”

“Yeah, my pleasure,” he mumbles sarcastically, reaching for the Marlboro Reds again.

“Where’d you meet her?” you ask, bored of the rerun playing on the TV.

“Casino,” he whispers, like he’s ashamed of it.

“Oh so she was a hooker,” you joke, eyes still glued to the Gilligan’s Island episode.

“If she was, I got a helluva discount,” he furrows his brow.

You sigh when he says, “Free- ninety nine,” laughing as he does.

You wonder if you never fell victim to gambling because you grew up around it. Occasionally you would toss a couple dollars in a bartop game but you always got bored quick. Billy obviously loved gambling, he did it every single time he left the house. Sometimes you two would carpool when your shifts fell on the same times and after work, Billy would stop at the casino and you’d just sit and watch while you took advantage of the free drinks. You’d always tell him how boring it was to be at casinos. Especially since after work, you’d be all done up still but wearing something comfortable. You often got asked by scraggly men if you were a working girl and you’d run to Billy, begging him to leave. He usually left then, when you told him you were being creeped on. He’d actually been banned from one of the casinos for getting in a fight with a man who grabbed your arm when you tried to leave.

“So did ya win or lose?” you ask, playing with a loose string hanging from your tank top.

“Both,” he shrugs, “Lost money but it was a good night.”

“Speaking of that… power bill is due tomorrow,” you let him know.

“Yeah, I’ll give you my tips tomorrow,” he sighs and gets up, guzzling his beer down and crushing the can in his hand. “I’m going to bed.”

You don’t say anything else as he trails into the kitchen to toss his empty beer away before disappearing into his room.

-

Billy’s busy behind the bar, it’s packed tonight with a bachelor party and he’s grateful he was blessed with the shift. He’s not exactly who the guys want to order drinks from but he’s making good money anyways. He’s pouring a round of shots, six glasses lined up as he expertly pours the tequila into them.

He hears the song Fascination Street by The Cure and his head jerks up, watching as you emerge to the pole. You’re wearing a leather bikini, hair clipped up as you wrap your fingers around the pole, lifting yourself up and spinning around it elegantly.

“Uh, dude,” he hears and he looks back down to see he’s over poured, tequila spilling down over the glass.

“Shit,” Billy mutters, turning the bottle right side up and setting it down.

“I’d probably do the same if I worked here,” the groom to be levels with him.

“Only do it when this girls on stage,” Billy admits, sliding the line of shots to the group.

“She is hot,” the guy says, the two of them watching as you dance, arching your back as your pressed against the pole.

Billy shakes his head, “It’s 20, for the round.”

The man slips him a 50, “How much for lap dances?”

“Ten,” Billy informs him, sliding his change across the bartop. He desperately doesn’t want to see you on top of this man but he wouldn’t dare stand in the way between you and your money.

You’d told him time and time again that you saw anyone who walked into this place as walking dollar bills. And Billy really had no reason to see it any other way. In the short few months of living together, he’d only seen you bring home one guy and Billy hadn’t ever seen him at the club. He was a biker, who’d Billy had learned to be Trevor. He had hair longer than yours and a beard to compete. Billy had taken note, assuming he wasn’t anywhere close to your type.

“She’s a great dancer,” Billy reluctantly tells the patron. “But buy her a drink first.”

“What does she drink?” the guy asks.

Billy doesn’t answer him, instead pulls out a coupe and grabs a bottle of gin. He’d never met someone who drank gin before you. He makes you a gimlet, having learned it’s your favorite.

“This,” he ushers the drink to the guy as you finish your dance.

“Hey, thanks,” the guy slides Billy the $30, “keep the change.”

It’s a gracious tip, Billy thinks as he tosses the twenty dollar bill in his bucket. He got paid more than your dance, he thinks. That’s why he’s so good at his job, offering these men something they could use whenever they needed. He leans back as you emerge, on the hunt. He lights a Marlboro and watches, the future husband stalking over to you with the drink.

The other bartender walks up to Billy, a smirk on her face. “You two have some game worked out, eh? Making her money and getting her a drink.”

Billy mocks offensiveness, “I’m thinking about our finances.”

“Sure,” she deadpans, grabbing the bottle of Jameson and pouring them shots. Billy had learned of her infatuation with one of the dancers so he related. He cheers his coworker, downing the shot as he watches you straddle the groom.

“Would you just fuck her already?” she chides.

He already has but he wouldn’t tell a soul. He kept it in his back pocket. He serves a few more people during your lap dance. He’s polishing a glass when you sit at the bar.

“That fucking guy is unbelievable,” you vent, “Telling me all about his fiancé with my tits in his face.”

“Aw, cut him some slack,” Billy pouts, pouring you a shot. “He was very impressed by your stage dance.”

“Not enough to throw me a dollar,” you challenge, grabbing the glass but giving Billy a pointed look.

“I literally just took a shot,” he counters.

“It’s no fun drinking alone,” you scold him, calling out to the other bartender, “Becky! Shot!”

She runs over, grabbing two glasses and pouring Jameson into them.

Billy is set in his ways, “We just took one!”

“And someone lost $200 at The Flamingo, take a god damn shot,” Becky admonishes Billy.

“Two hundred dollars?!” you exclaim, giving Billy a look of disappointment.

“Shut up, I’m making it up tonight,” he says, raising the glass to you.

The three of you cheers and down the shots. Becky smiles at you, “Billy had some notes about your dance,” and she bounces away just as quick.

Billy groans, “This fuckin’ bitch. No notes, you did as good as you always do.”

“So you’re watching,” you tease, reaching over to snag the cigarette pack from his jacket pocket.

“Hard not to,” he admits, leaning against the counter.

“I’m good at my job,” you frown, the alcohol pumping through you fueling the flirting.

“Maybe a little too good,” Billy gestures towards the groom walking over with a fifty dollar bill in his hand.

“One more shot, please,” you beg and Billy doesn’t argue, he drove tonight anyways. He pours you a shot of Jameson, thinking about how frisky whiskey made you.

“Ew! Pickle back, now,” you demand and he obliges. He reaches into his pocket for the pack of Big Red and hands you a stick. “Nobody wants pickle breath in their face.”

“Asshole,” you spit but take shot, sliding the piece of gum into your mouth. You jump off the barstool and guide the groom into the private room.

Billy sighs, Becky settling beside him. “You’re obvious, ya know.”

“I am not,” Billy scoffs, wiping the bar with a rag.

Becky looks at him, “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel? I mean, have you ever hit on her?”

“We had sex two weeks ago,” Billy admits without looking at her.

“What?!” Becky shrieks,

“She said we couldn’t do that, that everything was perfect the way it was,” Billy shrugged, attempting to not look bothered.

“How was it?” Becky asks.

“What I remember, it was awesome,” Billy admits.

She groans, “You gotta do it sober or it doesn’t count.”

“That’s stupid,” Billy sighs but his attention is distracted as a group of women walk into the club. “Hi, ladies,” he cheers, gesturing to the empty bar.

When you exit the private rooms, you’re fifty dollars richer and stoked about it. You try not to pay attention to Billy flirting with the bar full of women as you walk up.

Becky catches you, “Another drink?”

“Yeah,” you sigh.

She walks to Billy, poking his side before pointing to you. Billy reaches for the bottle of gin and you push down the thoughts of adoration. He causally hands you the gimlet, winking at you as he does so.

“Tip me when I’m on stage,” you plead, grabbing your drink.

You make your way to the dressing room, changing into your second outfit, a bright red lacy number. You grab your heels out of your bag, the cherry red color a perfect compliment to the rest of the get up. You smear red lipstick on your lips and tease your hair up.

“Dirty, Rotten, Filthy, Stinky!” you hear the crowd sing along and that’s you’re cue. You head the the stage, ready to put on the show of your life.

You strut out, eyes catching the cute bartender as you wrap your hands around the pole. He gives you a wink, your ankle hooking around the pole, swinging you around.

“Cherry pie!” You hear Billy wail, fueling your moves.

Billy’s eyes follow your every movement as he tries to multitask, taking money from the group of women.

“I’d love to see you up on that stage,” he hears. He stops to lean in front of her.

“Too bad they don’t do a ladies night, I’d be up there in a heartbeat,” Billy winks to her.

The group of women were almost like jackpot to him. It wasn’t often women came in the place but when they did, Billy easily made rent in one night. You were thankful, watching from the stage. He wouldn’t have to fork over the entirety of his earnings for bills. The jealousy you feel as you see him kiss the hand of the one ladies is another thing you’ll push down, deal with at another time.

As you exit the stage, you’re anticipating a slow down of lap dances. It was late, maybe three AM. You recall the other night, falling asleep on the couch, cuddling with Billy. You want a repeat of that night, even if you shoved him off of you when you pretended to notice. But in fact, you’d felt so at home in his arms.

When the two of you finally get home, you press a palm against Billy’s cheek. “I’m proud of you for not taking a detour to a casino.”

“You look tired,” he tells you.

“I am,” but you lace your fingers in his, dragging him to your bedroom. He comfortably pulls his converse off, kicking them aside as he shimmies out of his jeans and lays back on your mattress. You change into your pajamas, which is just a baggy shirt and comfortable underwear. Then, you crawl into bed beside Billy, sighing happily as he wraps an arm over you. You curl up into him, your legs intertwining. This isn’t suggestive, you tell yourself. Billy places what you pretend is a friendly kiss on your forehead. And you fall asleep easily in his arms. You hated to admit you struggled without it. The cuddling was becoming an almost nightly occurrence. Whenever he didn’t bring home a girl. You rarely brought Trevor home with you. Billy had only met him twice in the few months.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” Billy mumbles against your ear.

When you wake, it’s because there’s morning wood pressed against your ass. And instead of faking disgust, as you had before, you rub against it. You hear a pleasant but sleepy moan in your ear, encouraging you. Billy’s asleep but rouses slightly as he feels the movement against him.

You two have the day off again, you remember. You could spend the entirety of it pulling sweet orgasms from each other if you wanted. Which in spite of your strict personal interest, you do. The way he was watching you dance all night had you sincerely wanting him. You thought, Hell, he deserved it. He could’ve hand any of those women last night, but you’d actually seen him turn them down.

You turn over to look at his face, really studying it. God damn he’s so handsome. You let his attractiveness push your actions further, your palm pressing against his erection. You see him smile, activity behind his eyelids telling you he’s awake. You don’t look away from his face once he slowly opens his eyes, groping him through his briefs.

“Good morning,” his low voice greets you, the sound of it sending another ripple of arousal through you.

Everything about this fucking guy drove you wild and you hated it. God was cruel, dropping this fate into your lap when you thought you were perfectly content. “Morning,” you croak out, your eyes still scanning over his gorgeous face while you palm at him.

He smiles, perfect teeth peeking through and it’s like a punch to the gut.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure to?” his sleepy voice chirps.

“How stupidly hot you are,” you seethe, sliding your hand into his underwear to get a better handle on him.

“Ugh,” he moans, his eyes rolling back.

“Look at me,” you demand and Billy obeys, correcting his eyes to meet yours. The brightness of them is spine-tingling. The prettiest blue you’ve ever seen. “You know how good looking you are?”

He chuckles, “I’ve been told.”

“It’s not fair,” you tell him, “I don’t want to be involved with anyone. I don’t want to deal with that shit, but you’re so fucking hot it drives me insane.”

You bring your palm to your mouth and lick it, wrapping around Billy’s girth again and stroking him slowly.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, eyes fluttering shut.

The power you have is something you’re used to, you deeply want him to take over. To pin you down and make you fall apart beneath him. But this is familiar enough that you continue, a little too shy to tell him what you want.

“You’re used to it, huh?” you challenge him, fingers wrapped around the base of his cock as you squeeze him. He chokes out another moan. “So used to women throwing themselves at you.”

Billy’s a tad uncomfortable due to your words, it almost sounded spiteful and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. He knew he liked how you were touching him but you sounded angry and that wasn’t something he liked. The praise was nice, though. He liked when people told him how attractive he was.

“Why do you sound so angry?” he asks, his eyes looking into yours.

“Because I am,” you retort, “I was perfectly fine with everything before you came here.”

Billy grabs your wrist, his face contorting in confusion.

“No one’s forcing you to touch my dick, ya know,” he says, peeling you away.

“Wait- Billy,” you sighs, “I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know. I feel like it’s such a bad idea to do this but fuck, I want you so desperately.”

He sits up, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Well I apologize that I don’t find it super arousing to be talked down to like that.”

“Billy…” you sit up, looking to him. You can’t say anything else, not sure what to do or what to say.

“Hey, you either want me or you don’t,” Billy adjusts himself under the sheets and your ego is a little bruised when you notice he’s no longer hard. “You’re probably right. This is a bad idea and the both of us need to get a fucking handle on it if we’re gonna live together.”

He’s out of your room before you can comprehend what just happened. He’s right, though. You really needed to keep your feelings in check. You and Billy couldn’t be together.

[dittodon]

ᶻz﹒sherlock holmes

— 012.5﹕cat

“meow”

scaramouche’s ears lit up when he heard an animal in the room, he looked at the area the sound was made and it was directed inside your room.

“meow”

there it was again, the noise that came from your room. light scratches were made and it was overheard by the male, he got up from his couch and went over to your room. now, scaramouche wasn't a man to prior inside someone’s room, especially without their consent, and especially when they’re not at home.

more sounds of scratches were made by the cat inside, and scaramouche could only assume that it would want to go outside the room.  he didn’t want to open your door without your permission, but what if the cat was starving, or what if the cat was in need of help?

that’s when he came into thought and open the door, making sure not to overlook your personal belongings and to let your cat out.

he looked down and a small white-colored fur popped up at his feet. It meowed again with its teeth showing, and he could only assume they were hungry.

“You hungry, little one?”

it meowed again.

the male walked towards the kitchen, in hopes to find food to feed the said cat, and the white fur ball tailed his feet. he looked down behind him to meet a cat, he picked them up and carried them along the way.

scaramouche looked through the cabinet to find cat food in one of them, he looked towards the side to see a cat bowl beside him too.

“what the fuck, how did i not notice?”

he spoke to himself.

he picked up the cat food and poured some, presuming the cat's size, he believed they shouldn’t eat that much, thus the amount of food he gave. he put the white fur ball down and watch it waddle towards the food as they start eating.

‘i guess [name] forgot to feed them, they did seem kind of rushed when going out.’

scaramouche watched the little man eat and finish their portion, as they waddled back towards the man and hopped into his arms. 

“i guess you’re with me now.”

and that’s how he kidnapped [name]’s cat.

— masterlist || next

smau﹒scaramouche x gn!reader

sypnosis﹕not looking forward to your new roommate after the school finding out you've been living by yourself, you were greeted by an arrogant short man at the door. furthermore, he's been accompanied by his infuriating girlfriend. but from having him as a roommate, you find out secrets you'd wish to see, and secrets you feel guilty about knowing.

— note﹕filler chap, and eric nam ref

taglist﹕astreaa-express user11918163805279 crucnhice xirthia the-ghost-0f-t0m0 yoursockstinks yukiipc inferisk0 boywxonder kimiesstuff elakari angryhope magica-ren yelleloww mine-lu sukunasrealgf justanothertiredreader bananasquash

[hermesserpent-stuff]

okay. just some general ideas for sabertooth and remy. based on talks with @golden-buddle

this is a lottt more disjointed then some of the other thoughts posted before lol

tw: blood, kidnapping

Creed stops his motorcycle next to a large wall that makes up the weird institute for freaks that he knew about in vague passing. His nose had caught a weird scent. One that he had not encountered before. Its layered and complicated, with notes of a fading explosion and foriegn lands mingling with sugar and the smell of pack. Young pack. A cub. He had never smelt a cub before. Well, he had not really smelled any ferals like him before, even when his jobs took him far afeild and his years dragged on. But this smell… It fills the animal part of his brain with longing. Longing for a pack and a need to provide. He unconsciously finds himself drifting towards the wall where the scent indicates that the cub had clambered up more than once. He finds himself sniffing the stones deeply, eyes glancing about for evidence of the cub. The scent is… old. About four days old. And indicated that the cub had been leaving the school. He drags in a deep breath, memorizing the rich layering of the scent. Bits he had initially missed pop against his nostrils. The tang of blood, not the cub’s luckily, the mark of cats that love the cub, and a whiff of… vampire? Something like a vampire. Dangerous. A little bit of smokiness and a spark of spice and hints of cooked meat.

He finds a strand of silky auburn hair, which he holds close to his chest after heavily scenting it. It belongs to the cub, shed by normal means. He finds himself in hunt mode, ready to track the cub down and… protect it. Feed it. The animal in his chest purrs at the thought. A little cub he could care for and teach. He smiles toothily. He had a job to finish. Some idiot who knocked up the wrong mans girl and skipped town instead of help her out. He would be able to fully focus on finding his cub afterwards. A aburned-haired cub with a love for cats and spices that might be a little too close to vampires to be truly safe. Creed purrs to himself and kicks is motorcycle back into gear. He needs to finish this job. Fast. 

---

----

--

The cub struggles and hisses, but Victor growls and pushes.

“You're bleeding. I need to clean it.”

“Yeah? Your spit magic, homme? Stop licking Remy!”

Remy struggles more and Victor drops an octave in his growls and rests his fangs against Remy’s shoulder. The cub continues to struggle and Victor closes his maw a little more and it catches on Remy’s shoulder. Remy goes stiff and then suddenly relaxes, revealing his neck, fear wafting off of him. 

“Ça me fait de la peine. Sorry. Please. Please. No hurt. Remy give up.”

Victor shifts back, crooning softly to the whimpering cup. 

“I didnt mean to hurt you. Just trying to lick the blood off to keep it from geting infected.”

Victor finds himself explaining more than he usually would, his heart twitching at the sight of the scared cub. Remy swallows and seems to fight himself, then moves slightly closer.

“No hurt? Just… Clean blood?”

The cub bites his lip and Victor shifts forward, sniffing slightly. This hesitancy was from somewhere. Some one. He smells something like himself on the cub; had another mutant hurt Remy?

“Let me clean you off cub. I don't want to hurt you. I really don't.”

He rumbles low, crooning softly to the shaking cub. Remy stares as Victor slowly noses his hair. Victor purrs low as he gently nudges his cub. Remy sighs, hand hesitantly coming up and gently scratching right behind Victor’s ear. He purrs a little deeper, licking off the rest of the blood from the boy’s temple. That fall had been nasty and Victor had been scared. The cub trying to run again after their meal had scared him. His cub is too flighty. He shifts from licking blood to gently licking the long red hair. It smells more heavily of the cub’s own scent that mix of fading explosions, powdered sugar, and smoke. It is long and soft, but a little dirty. His cub seems to need a full bath. And it helps Victor spread his scent over the cub. 

“I’m tired Monsieur Saber. Can we rest here?”

Remy sounds tired, fingers still gently scratching. The cub yawns a few times when Victor says nothing in response. Victor purrs and curls over his cub, protecting Remy from the cold. The little one hums low. Soon Remy’s breathing evens out, deep and slow. Remy curls tight, arms and legs carefully tucking themselves closer to Remy’s core while the cub presses into Victor’s chest.

--

Remy hates how easy it is to fall asleep Victor’s warmth. The Southerner in his bones had always had trouble finding enough warmth wherever he was. The void could change temperatures rapidly with freezing nights and occasional freezing days. He preferred the hot days that felt like the humid heat of Louisiana in the springs and edges of summer. Remy presses closer to Sabertooth, finding the warmth slowly wrapping around his bones and helping his eyes grow heavy. He had suggested resting because a stalled target is easier to hunt. His dad would come for him and Wolverine was likely on his heels. So Remy easily slips into sleep, vast nothingness pressing in, no dreams to disturb him. He is being protected. He is safe and warm

He’s woken up to Victor being tackled off of him, his heart immediately leaping into his throat as he scooches backwards. Wolverine is there and the two ferals are ripping eachother apart. 

“Get away from my cub!”

Victor hisses.

“You f*cking stole my KIT!”

Wolverine howls back and leaps forwards again, slashing deep and bloody. Blade walks up and scoops up the still-waking Remy. Remy rests his head against Blade’s neck and whistles and chirps. 

“Hey Parri. I don’t think this kidnapping was a conscious one!”

Blade pauses his movements and nuzzles Remy, hissing low and deep, presumably at the scent.

“Please stop getting kidnapped, fledgling.”

“Not doing it on purpose sire.”

He murmurs sleepily, already missing the warmth that he had been gifted by Victor.

“I know.”

Blade murmurs, wrapping Remy up in his jacket.  Remy relaxes at the familiar smell and warmth of the jacket. 

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 2)

I have never known cold in my life like the cold of the early morning in Berlin. It’s the kind of morning that feels like the sun will never rise. The cars still have their headlights on as Claire and I haul our bags up the stairs of the U Bahn station and out onto the street for the first time. It is seven in the morning, and it is not beautiful here. 

We huddle together beneath a massive BAHNHOF NEUKOLLN sign and peer through the grey in search for a familiar face. The metal barriers all around us are lined with chained up bicycles overlapping each other, and there is careless graffiti on the shutters of the electronics shop across the road from us. It isn’t open yet. Nothing is open yet, including our hostel, so we stand with our backs against the frigid metal of a cigarette machine and wait. 

He’s like an otherworldly spirit when he emerges from the fog, bundled in a big black coat, breaths turning to clouds that absorb into the thick mist around him. He raises a hand in a wave, and his smile is the brightest thing for miles.  

“Good morning.” Jude says. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late.” He bends down to hug me and I immediately feel my lack of sleep. I could almost sleep right here on the cushiony softness of his puffer coat with his cheek somehow still warm despite the weather. 

“So this is your home.” Claire says as he gives her a hug, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “Looks like shit this morning, to be honest. It literally couldn’t be uglier, but welcome to Berlin.” He offers to carry some of our bags, and we let him. We head down an identically bleak street that’s lined with Doner Kebab takeaways, phone shops and tiny supermarkets, all closed. Jude gently tugs on the back of my collar when I try to cross the road. 

“You have to wait for the green man.” He says near my ear. 

I stare at him incredulously. “I know, but there’s no cars coming.”

“I don’t make the rules here.” We stand then, stupidly, waiting for the lights to change as not a single car passes us by. Then finally, it does, and we can cross. 

“That was ridiculous.” I say. “What’s going to happen if I just walk? They’ll throw me in jail?”

“No, worse.” He says. “An old German woman will materialise and start scolding you from her kitchen window. Happens literally every time.”

“Hm. So they’re pretty rule bound here.”

“You’re telling me.”

Jude lives a twenty minute walk from the station in a large brutalist block of flats that is identical to all of the other brutalist blocks of flats that flank it on all four sides. I wonder how he can ever remember which is his, or how many times in his first few weeks he found himself wandering around trying to recall which block he walked out of that same morning, because I can certainly imagine that for myself.

“Oh, cats!” Claire comments as a pair of tabbys appear from the vegetation around the base of the building, one of whom starts winding her slinky body in between Jude’s ankles and mewing rather impatiently at him while the other sits watch from a short distance away. He leans down to scratch her head. “Nothing for you right now.” He says to her. “I’ll come back later on.”

“You feed these cats.” I say. Not a question, a fact. 

“I’m the crazy cat man of the neighbourhood.” He admits. “But they just love me, they must know that I have a kind soul.”

“It’s because you feed them.” The tabby gives up on him and approaches me next, mouth open in a startling maw, her meow the cat equivalent of a screech. “Jesus.” I whisper.

“It’s just how she sounds.” He explains. “She’s actually a well tempered cat.”

“What’s her name?”

“I call her Main Street, because that’s where she mostly hangs out, and that one.” He points his thumb toward her noticeably more timid pair, hovering by the wheels of a parked car. “That’s Ten Feet Behind.”

“Because she’s always-”

“Yeah, ten feet behind the other cat.” He grins with chattering teeth. “Let’s go inside, it’s so damn cold.” With stiff fingers he punches in the code for the apartment and leads us into a hallway stuffed to the gills with more bikes. There is no lift, which means we have to carry our things up the stairway, winding around and around, hoping that each landing will be our last, but we keep going up until the seventh floor, where finally, mercifully, Jude lays our bags on the floor and fumbles in his pocket for his keys. 

“Jonas is probably still asleep.” He warns us. “So let’s try and keep it down until he surfaces.” He gingerly opens the door to his apartment and lets us inside, and the heating is on, and my body is flooded with the kind of warmth and comfort that makes me want to curl up on that inviting green couch in the living area and fall asleep for hours. 

“You two can sit down wherever.” Jude says, so we peel our coats off and leave them hanging in a closet by the door. “I’ll make something for us to eat.”

“Oh? Food?” Claire says, as she and I sink into the soft cushions of his couch. “You don’t have to make anything.”

“I’m hungry, I’m sure you’re hungry, we can eat.”

“Okay.” She says, immediately convinced, and I wind my arm with hers and rest my head on her shoulder as my eyes flutter shut with contentment. The apartment is so nice. It smells good. There is nice art on the walls that looks as though it was picked out by someone with a good eye, rather than the usual landlord special back in Dublin, which consists usually of some ancient picture of a hideous, jowled dog that was likely dug out of the bottom of a bargain pile at a car boot sale. 

I can’t believe that this morning I was in Dublin, and now I’m in a different country. I’m really in Berlin. I’m in Jude’s house. He’s cooking breakfast. It feels like something that would only happen in my head, but I keep opening my eyes to make sure that it’s real, and finding out that it is. After a while I peer over the back of the couch, and he has his back to me, whisking eggs in a bowl, and I read the spines of the cookbooks stacked neatly by the hob. Ottolenghi. Samin Nosrat. Grace Young. There are no books with unsophisticated titles like One Pot Wonders or Meals in Minutes! His are specific cuisines. Middle eastern food, Japanese food, North African, Italian, Chinese, French. I prop my chin on my hand and regard him with fresh interest. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Of course.”

“I mean that I didn’t know that you cooked cooked, as in, more than just improvised tomato pasta and shepherd’s pie from a container.”

He chuckles. “I seem like I enjoy food from containers, do I?”

“Not particularly, I just never thought about it.”

He takes a serrated knife to a hunk of soft bread and cuts off several thick slices. “I’ve always liked to cook. I had to do it a lot when my parents were too busy to make dinner for my sister, it all kind of fell on me, and I grew to like it a bit, I suppose. Luckily. There’s not much that beats the taste of something you made yourself. When it’s good, I mean.”

He casually drunks a slice of bread into the beaten eggs with one hand and fires up the gas stove with the other. “Weird that you never knew that about me, honestly.”

“I suppose it never came up.”

“Hm. Well, surprise.” 

The door from an adjoining room suddenly opens, and I glance around to see a very broad, bare chested man emerge from the darkness of his bedroom. “Hello” He says groggily. “What smells good?”

Claire, who had drifted into a shallow sleep before, regards him suddenly with wide, shocked eyes. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, looking like a viking, with blonde hair the length of his shoulders and messed up on one side to suggest that he sleeps on his right. 

“Oh.” He says when he notices us on the couch. “Hello ladies.” He steps in front of us so that we’re just about eye level with his crotch and extends a hand for Claire to shake, then me. “I don’t need introductions. I know that you’re Claire, and you’re Evie.” He points his thumb at himself. “I’m Jonas.”

Jude peers at him from the kitchen. “Yeah, they’re pleased to meet you, Jonas, can you put trousers on please.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Okay! If you want.” and goes back into his room. 

“Oh my god.” Claire says under her breath. I can’t tell whether she’s appalled or impressed, but she’s wide awake now. 

Jude starts dealing out plates at the counter, and we get up to take our seats as he carefully places a slice of perfectly golden French toast in front of us. He takes a bowl of fresh berries out of the fridge, along with some sort of mascarpone cheese cream, and slides a jar of maple syrup across the counter into my waiting hand. “Enjoy.” He says, and stands on the other side of the counter to eat his the way that Italians drink espresso, al banca. He stabs his fork into the centre of the toast and swipes the knife across it. He’ll have it all eaten in ten seconds, but Claire and I will savour every delicious mouthful. 

“Sorry about the berries.” Jude says eventually. “They’re off-season.”

“Oh God, no, we don’t mind that.” Says Claire. “It’s actually so good, this is unreal.”

“Absolutely.” I agree. “This is like something you’d get in a restaurant.”

“Calm down, lads, it’s just French toast.” Says Jude, but the tips of his ears have gone red. 

When Jonas reemerges, dressed, he takes a plate from the cupboard and starts unceremoniously shovelling food onto it, and then stands barefoot in the middle of the kitchen eating it like a wild animal. I side eye Claire to gauge her reaction to this, and just like I expected she’s horrified.

“What is everyone going to do today?” He says, mouth jammed with bread. 

“No big plans.” I tell him. “Maybe see the sights a bit, wander around. Look at the shops.”

“Oh, have you got costumes for Saturday night?”

“Sort of. Halfway, maybe. We were hoping to find something here.” I glance at Claire and she nods. I have the shoes I want to wear, but nothing else. She hasn’t got a single item, so some serious shopping is in order. 

“There are so many places for thrift shopping.” He says with a wave of his fork. “You will find something great.” He prods Jude’s shoulder with his fork. “Are you going too?”

“Nah we’ve agreed to meet up in the evening, I have to go to the studio today, unfortunately.”

“Work work work.” Jonas says with an eye roll. “I hope you get a good job after all of this is finished, or it will all be for nothing.” 

“Agreed.” Jude says flatly. “Who are going as, by the way? I mean, costume wise” he says to Claire and I then, eyes flitting back and forth between us, and I smirk at him. “We’re not telling you.” We don’t know. “We’re going to surprise you on the night.”

“Fine, then I’ll surprise you too.”

“Well I’m expecting to be impressed.”

His smile falters. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“You mean you’re not overly prepared?”

“It was a difficult theme.”

“It’s not difficult.” Jonas informs him. “It would be difficult if it was, I don’t know, 1930s soviet politicians, but it’s 60’s celebrities. It really couldn’t be easier.”

“Okay.” He shrugs. “Just mostly men were just wearing variations of the same suit.”

“Not true. You could have been a beatle, or a rolling stone, any of those groovy woodstock men, you didn’t think outside the box.” Jonas turns and winks at us. “My costume is good. Wait and see.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[mikhailwrites]

Waiting for Connection 10 / Ghost x Soap NerdAU

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

You didn't think I'd leave you in angst over the Christmas day, did you?

Previous chapter | AO3

The night is cold and damp; the light drizzle doesn’t warrant an umbrella, but it’s not very pleasant in any case. Ghost adjusts the collar of his coat to cover his neck better before shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he starts up the street towards his home. John walks next to him, seemingly unperturbed by the cold. Would stand to reason, Ghost thinks, if he grew up further up north and got through the SAS selection. It’s been years, yet it’s hard to forget—the harrowing trek to a bloody mountain with a time limit and in full gear.

“How’d you get your callsign?” Simon asks out of nowhere. He doesn’t mind the silence but can tell it’s not the same for John, who is probably still beating himself up for fucking up earlier. Simon's not a bastard; yes John hit a nerve back there but he didn't mean to. Simon is resilient, too, shrugging the hurt off as if it's nothing. He has no reason to sulk.

The Scott grabs the question like a lifeline. “At the end of the selection, actually. We were tasked to clean out several buildings to save the hostages. I’ve set the record. The overseeing officer said I’ve been as quick and efficient as a soap, and it kinda stuck.”

“It’s a good callsign,” Simon admits. It sounded ridiculous at first, so much so he was sure there had to be some embarrassing story behind it, as is the case with most callsigns. To earn it with skill is commendable.

“What about you? Ghost is probably the best I’ve ever heard,” Soap asks. Usually, Simon wouldn’t tell, but he supposes it doesn’t matter anymore. There’s no reason to uphold the mystery now.

“I’ve been buried alive,” Simon says, the tone of his voice casual, as if he was commenting on the weather.

John barks out a laugh, probably thinking Ghost’s pulling his leg. Once he realises that’s not the case, he sobers up. “Shit, man… that’s fucked up.”

“Guess it is,” Ghost shrugs. It’s been a long time since he was able to tell what’s fucked up or not. “Alright, we’re here,” Simon takes out keys and lets John inside, clicking the lights on before he leads him to the second floor.

Simon’s flat isn’t much, but it’s his home. As soon as they enter, there’s a blur of tabby fur, and before Simon can say anything, John is crouching and scratching Sgt. Stripey behind the ears. “So you’re Stripey. Nice to meet ye, lad,” John says to the cat with warm affection.

“Careful, or you’ll end up wrapped around his claw,” Ghost warns, hanging his coat and putting his shoes away.

“Too late.” John chuckles, standing up and handing Ghost his jacket to be hanged. “You know, I’d have pegged you for a dog person.”

“I don’t mind dogs; I just like cats better. Always clicked with the little fuckers, ever since I was a kid.” He has no idea why he is imparting so much to John. On the other hand, it’s not like he’s still part of the top secret Task Force. He can have friends now, tell them things about himself, and let them in.

“Guess I can imagine a wee Simon feeding the strays,” John admits as he goes further into the apartment, looking around, obviously compartmentalising everything he sees.

Simon doesn’t say anything because John’s words struck a tad too close to home.

Thankfully, John doesn’t notice. His attention is currently held by something else. “Steamin’ Jesus, what is that?!” Soap exclaims and points at Ghost’s rig, proudly sitting on the desk.

“My computer?” Ghost cocks an eyebrow.

“That?!” Soap almost squeals, which is halfway between ridiculous and adorable, in Ghost’s opinion. Soap comes closer, leaning in to inspect the machine up close. “What are these?” he traces the acrylic tubes with an index finger without actually touching anything.

“Liquid cooling.”

“A…what?” Soap’s eyes widen. “Thought electricity and water don’t mix well.”

“You sure you’re the explosives guy? I said liquid, not water. You could use water technically, but it’s not a very efficient coolant.”

“How do you even… ye ken… keep it in?”

“It’s a closed circuit, look,” Ghost comes closer, shoulder brushing against John’s as he points out the reservoir with a pump, “you have your coolant here, then it’s distributed throughout the system. First, it goes into the CPU because it’s higher up, so I can use gravity to help the pump later. There’s a copper heat plate pressed to the processor; inside it is something like a little maze, so the coolant doesn’t flow through too fast and can actually take away the heat. Once out of the maze, it goes into the intercooler; here,” he touches a big black cooler attached to the top of the rig. “The liquid cools here; it works exactly the same as old radiators and is then used here in the graphics card. The cooling cover works pretty similarly to the one for the CPU, only it’s larger. Once the liquid is out of the GPU, it’s cooled again, here,” he points to another intercooler, “and, lastly, it returns back to the reservoir.”

“But… that’s so complicated! And what if it spills? That can happen, can’t it?” Soap looks at him, and Ghost can’t help but notice the curious shade of blue in his eyes as it catches the warm light. Thankfully, the question asked is interesting enough for him to focus on.

“Sure, but the liquid is safe as long as you don’t drown your power supply in it. And it’s more efficient and much quieter. Let me show you,” without further ado, Ghosts wakes the PC up and fires up a benchmark. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Soap asks, confused.

“Exactly,” Ghost’s smile is all smugness, and John finds it kind of endearing.

Soap laughs as soon as he gets Ghost’s point. When he turns to Ghost next, a fond smile plays at his lips, and there are crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes. “Ye really like this stuff, huh?”

It takes Ghost a few seconds to respond, mainly because John’s sheer radiance nearly blinds him. “I do,” he rubs at the back of his neck, a nervous gesture because he feels exposed and a little embarrassed. Usually, that would be a bad thing, but in this instance, it feels different because he knows John wouldn’t laugh at him. They met in a video game. Ghost’s goofiness is safe with him.

“Sorry if that came out wrong. I just wanted tae say I’m impressed. I have no idea about any of this. Maybe you could teach me some stuff?”

“Make you my Padawan, you mean?” Ghost raises an eyebrow.

Soap smirks, unable to hold Ghost’s gaze any longer. “Yer such a nerd, Ghost,” he shakes his head, still smiling. It could’ve easily been read as an insult, yet the way Soap said it sounds more like a compliment. “But aye, make me your Padawan, Master Simon,” Soap says and bows before Ghost. That settles the matter.

Before they can open a new topic, Soap is caught off-guard by a yawn. Glancing at his wrist-watch, he’s both surprised and unsurprised by how late it is. Time flies by when you’re having fun, especially with a good company, but Soap has been on his feet for close to twenty hours now and the past week wasn’t much better. The exhaustion is catching up to him.

“Go take a shower if you want, it’ll take me a few minutes to get the couch ready,” Ghost says and nods to the piece of furniture in question.

Soap thinks for about three seconds. “You don’t need to, I can sleep on it as it is.”

“Nonsense,” Ghost rejects the idea with a finality that bars any further discussion.

Soap holds up his hands in surrender, gathers a few items from his bag and retreats to the bathroom.

Ghost spends several minutes figuring out his own piece of furniture. The thing is, he’s never needed the futon, only the sofa. After multiple failed attempts, he finally finds the right angle and amount of strength to pull and push until the bloody thing unfolds and rearranges itself.

Only now, he is faced with a different problem. Ghost doesn’t have an extra blanket and pillow, which he really should’ve thought about earlier. It’s not a difficult issue to solve. He takes a quilt from the couch and swaps it for his own blanket. The linens were changed two days ago, John should be fine with it. However, the pillow stays in Simon’s bed. If he were to use the small one from the living room, he would have a stiff neck for at least three days. Not worth it. He wouldn’t stand for John to be cold, but the pillow should be just a minor inconvenience for someone as young and fit as Soap.

Ghost quickly gets the futon ready and opens the window to let in some fresh air. It smells of rain and winter, Simon’s favourite combination if anyone ever asked.

John emerges from the bathroom, flushed and slightly damp, dressed in a plain khaki tee and black briefs. Ghost lingers on him, though not for too long. That would be rude and a little creepy, right?

“If you wake up before I do, feel free to check the fridge, make yourself a coffee or tea, everything’s in the kitchen,” Ghost instructs him. “Sergeant usually sleeps in bed with me, but maybe he’ll get curious.”

Soap blinks a few times at the last piece of information before he realises that Ghost is talking about his cat. Right. There was no way he would invite Soap into his bed like this. Not that Soap would want him to, right? They’re friends, and it would be too soon in any case. John realises Ghost is looking at him as if he expects Soap to say something.

“Aye, sure. Thank you again for having me.”

“Sure,” Ghost nods, “sleep well, Soap.”

“You too, Ghost.”

Simon retreats to the bedroom, leaving the doors slightly ajar for the cat.

[steddiebang]

The Pizza Box Pact

Author: @pizzaqueen l Artist: @Goingsteddi3 l Artist: @cousin-itt Posting on Sunday, November 5

Eddie and Steve have been living together, working together, and raising their cat together for a few years, now, but they’re not together together. They’re friends—the best of—nothing more, and they’re happy. At least, Eddie is, and he thought Steve was too. But then he finds a pact they made, one drunken night ten years ago, where they pledged to ‘marry’ each other if they were still single by the time they’re thirty, and everything changes. Steve isn’t amused by the reappearance of the pact, seems almost upset by it, and Eddie figures it’s because he’s going to be thirty soon and doesn’t have a girlfriend. So, he does what any best friend would do: pledges to find Steve the perfect woman, setting him up on a series of unsuccessful blind dates. Somewhere along the way, Eddie rediscovers feelings that he thought he’d put aside years ago. He just hopes he hasn’t found them again too late.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey, Steve”—Eddie tumbles into the kitchen, waving the piece of cardboard—“check this out!” He thrusts the pact under Steve’s nose, glee bubbling in his veins as he waits for Steve’s reaction.

“Dude.” Steve leans back, setting down his mug of coffee and swiping the cardboard from Eddie. There’s this look of fond annoyance on his face, one that Eddie is more than familiar with, but it slowly fades as he reads the words written in Eddie’s janky hand. He gives the cardboard back to Eddie. “Why do you still have that?”

Eddie folds himself onto the chair across from Steve at the kitchen table. It’s this old chrome-edged formica thing—a little too kitsch for Eddie’s taste, and definitely too kitsch for Steve’s—that was left by the former residents, along with four mismatched chairs and a mug that says ‘stay cool’ with a picture of a big, yellow cat lying on a melting block of ice.

“You don’t get rid of a pact.” Sure, Eddie forgot about it in the ensuing years, but a pact is a pact. And, well, he likes yanking Steve’s chain.

“We were just dumb kids.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re pushing thirty and you’re still single.” Eddie waves the cardboard. “Time’s running out, man, you’re going to be stuck with me soon.”

“I’m already stuck with you.”

“True.” Eddie reaches for Steve’s coffee mug, but Steve bats his hand out of the way before he can grab it. “We’re practically married already, right? Live together, work together, raising our child together…”

As if on cue, Mercury pads into the room, stopping pointedly by her bowl and meowing. Loudly. Eddie pushes himself to his feet, dragging himself over to the cupboard.

“So everyone keeps saying,” Steve murmurs.

“Who says that?” Eddie gets out the cat food, stooping down to scratch his fingers under Mercury’s chin. “Did Daddy forget to feed you?”

“I didn’t forget,” Steve says, “and stop calling me that. She’s a cat, not our kid.” He crosses his arms over his stomach.

Eddie makes a show of gasping and covering Mercury’s ears. “She’s right here.” When Steve only grunts, hiding his face behind his mug, Eddie says, “So, who says we’re practically married?”

“No one.”

“Well, someone’s grumpy this morning.”

“Well, someone came in here while I was in the middle of my morning coffee, waving some stupid old piece of paper at me.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. He was expecting Steve to at least laugh about this, but he’s being weird. “I’m not actually going to hold you to the pact.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

Right. Time for a different tack. “Is this about you still being single?” Eddie pushes himself to his feet, ignoring Mercury’s indignant mew at leaving her unfed. “Because you’ll find someone. Maybe not by the time you’re thirty, but there’s plenty of time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” The scent of cat food hits Eddie’s nose as he opens the tin; he makes a face and bends down to empty it into Mercury’s bowl. She’s already engrossed in eating when scratches her head again, and he huffs softly before he throws the empty tin out. “Well, being footloose and fancy-free isn’t so bad, is it?”

Eddie likes his life—their life—even if it’s not what he thought it would be. He’s swapped the dream of Madison Square Garden for a music store in Chicago, tour buses and a mansion for an old van and an apartment above the store, and he hasn’t gone on a date in months. Or longer. But he’s still bringing music to people via Corroded Vinyl, he still plays occasionally, and he has Mercury and Steve and their friends. It’s good.

“Dude,” Steve says, stomping over and pulling the empty cat food tin out of the trash, “I’ve told you a million times to wash these first.”

“Sorry. Haven’t had my coffee, yet.” Eddie grabs his favorite mug and pours some coffee into it, along with a healthy serving of cream and sugar. He waits for one of Steve’s usual remarks—about rotting his teeth, or clogging his arteries—but he doesn’t say anything. It sits uneasily. He blows on his coffee and adds, “Anyway, when was the last time I forgot? At least I, unlike a certain roommate who I won’t name, have learned to pick up my wet towels.”

Water drums against the sink, splashing up the sides as Steve runs the tin under the spray. “Whatever.”

“Do you know how gross it is to step on a cold, wet towel when you’re not expecting it?”

“You’ve survived so far,” Steve says, the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his lips and, for a moment, Eddie thinks this can all be forgotten, but the smile fades, and Steve adds, “I just… I’m getting kinda old for footloose and fancy-free.”

Eddie leans back against the counter near the sink; as Steve moves, his elbow brushes Eddie’s arm, and their hips bump once or twice. “I’m older than you.”

“I’m not you.”

“Okay, who pissed in your Wheaties?”

“No one.” Steve empties the sink, shakes the tin out, and dumps it back in the trash. “I’m going to open the store,” he says, stopping by the table to gulp the rest of his coffee before he heads out.

Eddie blinks at the space where Steve was a moment ago. “Well, that was weird.” He looks at Mercury. “You know what’s got into your second favorite dad?”

Mercury looks up at Eddie, then trots away.

“Very helpful, thanks.” Eddie shrugs and pours himself a bowl of Count Chocula; he spoons some cereal into his mouth and throws the pact in the trash, then takes it back out and sticks it on the fridge with a Snoopy magnet. He’s not throwing it away because Steve’s in a shitty mood.

Maybe Steve will find it funny when he’s woken up properly.

Read more on November 5!

[exvangelical-christian-nerd]

Shoulder Buddies: Introduction pt. 2

TW relationship drama and discussion of sex.

Natalie (She/her)

Disclaimer (doubles as the master post)

“Really this is how we're starting our morning, again?” grumbled someone right in my ear.

“Good morning to you too, Lute.” I muttered.

“Jill’s door is closed, at least.” Charlie said from my other shoulder.

“At least if Crowley got ‘im, we wouldn’t keep having to chase the furry attention whore around all the time.” Lute grumbled

How is this my angel? I wondered, although I too was tired of chasing Peep around, but feeding him to my ex’s ball python seemed more than a little extreme.

“Seriously? Fuck you, Lute!” Charlie shouted at her, her horns showing up for half a second. Apparently she was a little on edge this morning. I made a mental note to check on her when I had a moment.

 “Enough you two.” I scolded, kneeling  down and looking under the couch.

I could see Tracey’s lavender hair almost directly across from me on the other side of the couch.

Man, is it dirty under here. Who’s turn is it to vacuu- or right, mine. It took me a minute to find him. It didn’t help that he kinda blended in, with his white back half almost looking like the dust bunnies, I needed to vacuum up, and his black front half blending in with the shadow. But I finally found the rascal. I thought that might just be able to reach his long pink tail. I made a grab for it.

He ran out from under the couch, and into my room.

“Dang it.” I shouted.

Charlie and Lute both made similar, although more colorful, exclamations.

“Gosh fucking dang it. You stupid rat.” Tracey practically growled, as they stood up.

We had just made it to the door when my pure cat, Azi, came out carrying a squirming Peep in her mouth like he was a naughty kitten, which I think is what she thinks he is. She padded over to Tracey, gave them a very unimpressed look, and dropped Peep at their feet.

Trace scooped up their rat up before he had a chance to run again. “Bad rat. Very, very naughty. You’re gonna give Mommy a heart attack. You know that? Gorrammit, you dumb ass rat.” Tracey chastised him, all the way back to their room.

Azi rubbed up against my legs, meowing.

I squatted down and pet her. “You're a good girl, aren't you? Such a good girl.”

“A very good girl.” Charlie agreed, jumping on Azi’s head and scratching her behind the ears. Charlie’s red suit made Azi’s already bright white fur, somehow, seem even whiter.

She purred as we pet her.

A moment later I stood up,  “Time for breakfast, Azi Razzi.” She padded behind me as I walked to the kitchen. Charlie, rode on Azi’s head. I pulled the cat food out of the cupboard under the sink, poured some in Azi’s bowl, and then finally set it on the pet food mat, next to the refrigerator. I checked to make sure the water bowl was still sufficiently full. It was. Then I washed my hands and got back to making breakfast for us humans.

“Charlie, are you doing okay?” I asked my demon, who was standing on Azi’s back, knee deep in white fur.

Charlie laughed in a very not okay way. “Not really.”

“No shit.” Lute said.

“Lute,” I said, “Shut up.”

“Charlie, what going on?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.”

“Charlie-”

“It’s no big deal. Just a little blip. It’ll be fine.”

“Sure it will.” Lute taunted. “Her girlfriend lied to her.” Lute whispered.

Charlie is dating Robin’s shoulder angel Vaggie.

“Fuck you, Lute!” Charlie’s horns came out again.

“Okay, okay.” I interrupted, “Lute, she’s right, this doesn’t concern you.” I turned to Charlie, “Do you wanna talk?”

“Not yet.”

“Fair enough.” I poured the first pancake on the skillet.

Tracey, now dressed in their work uniform, a red and blue striped shirt and jeans, came back out of their room right about then. Emily had gotten her feathers in order too.

I heard Jill’s alarm go off.

I finished pouring the first batch. “Trace can you get the syrup and such on the table?” I have four skillets I use. The two big ones can fit two, or sometimes three pancakes, the others can fit one (I usually make about 3 batches).

“Sure.” Tracey answered

Charlie was quiet.

Emily suddenly appeared on my shoulder and gave Charlie a hug.

About midway through the second batch, I heard Jill’s door open.

“Morning, Jill.” I said, glancing up.

Stu, Jill’s mobility dog, was opening zier door.

Jill followed him, using zier crutches. “Morning, Nat.”

“Steph, still here?”

Jill’s face went red as a strawberry, as did the face of zier angel, Sir Pentious. “You heard us?”

“Yes.”

I saw Sir Pentious pull his hat down over his face.

“We both did. ” Tracey said.

Jill’s face went an even deeper red.

“I think the whole apartment complex did.” Lute muttered

I could sugge-” I heard Fizz start to say, right before Emily suddenly appeared behind him and clamped her hands over his mouth.

Jill didn't hear them.  Jill can only see and hear zier own shoulder buddies, which is more than most people can do. It’s kinda sad really.

But Sir Pentious heard Fizz and Lute. He flared his hood for a second, then coiled up so tight he was almost a perfect sphere.

Jill’s shoulder devil, Cherri Bomb, rolled her eyes, “Whatever, loser,” she said giving me an exasperated look. “Though I don't see how you think you can judge, as I recall you're not exactly quiet yourself.

 My face suddenly felt very hot.

Jill’s face went even redder.

Tracey turned and walked quickly back to their room. Smart choice.

I turned my focus back on breakfast, “You could’ve invited her to stay for breakfast.” I said, “After all you’re dating not hooking up.”

“Nat!” Charlie exclaimed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lute smirking.

“You just said you were mad I had her over.”

“First off, I did not say that.”

“You kinda did.” Lute snorted.

I ignored her, “I just said I could hear you.  Secondly, I’m still friends with both your dumb asses and, we‘ve been over this before, I don’t care that you’re dating, Steph. However, I don’t know many people who want to hear other people’s… activities, and I’ve dated, and slept, with you both, so it’s doubly awkward.” I flipped the pancakes.

“Prude.” Cherri scoffed.

“How am I being a prude?” I practically shouted back.

Jill jumped and zier blue eye’s got big. Ze knows I can see zier buddies, but I’m not usually this open about it with zier, because ze finds it a bit off putting.

“I am not into voyeurism, Cherri.” I continued, “And I don’t think not wanting to hear my exes bang each other is unreasonable.”

“We’ll try to be quieter going forward.”

“Thank you. That's all I'm asking.”

Cherri rolled her eyes and flipped me off.

Lute returned the gesture.

Charlie looked like she wanted to die, which was kinda how I felt too.

Their was an awkward silence, as Jill came into the kitchen and fed Stu.

“I’ll tell Tracey it's safe to come out now.” Using zier crutches Jill went over and knocked on Tracey’s door. “Coast is clear.” Ze joked, laughing awkwardly.

Part 1

[akwolfgrl]

Part 18 LFT

Zoro left the box of cat stuff in the boys' room before he headed towards the galley where he knew Sanji was. He had heard the blond singing. He didn't know Sanji could sing… unless you count those sexy moans as singing. The cat was curled around his neck, purring loudly, reminding him of what was at hand now. Zoro thought cats were supposed to be aloof, but this one had walked right up to him and climbed up his leg. The damn thing had rubbed its head against his own before batting at his earrings. Zoro had gotten lucky. He had stumbled into a book store where the lady working there had been of great help. He was nervous. He didn't give people gifts, but he was just following Nami’s advice.

Zoro watched from the galley window as Sanji moved things in his cabinet around. Zoro opened the door and stepped inside.

A mighty tempest grew

The banshee cried "turn back!"

But our resolve was true

And pointed bow ahead and shouted

"We'll break threw"

The jaws of hell can't hold us back

There's nothing that can keep us from The Shadow

Zoro leaned against the wall, his hand coming to scratch the cat perched along his shoulders. He watched and listened as the cook sang a smile upon his face, a new large strange pot sat upon the stove.

“I didn't know you sang, you should do it more often,” Zoro wasn't here to rile him up this time. His voice was softer than normal, trying to prove he wasn’t here to cause chaos.

“Wow! You're back early! I thought for sure you'd be in a bar getting drunk somewhere,” The blond didn't bother turning around, but Zoro could see his ear turn pink. “Ah well, I did grow up with a pirate, Ussop bought it up, and I realized how much I miss singing with everyone,” Curly closed the cabinet gently before turning towards him. With one raised curly brow, he asked, “What's with the cat?”

“He’s for you, I figured since you're busy guarding against Luffy you could use help guarding against the smaller pests,” Zoro reached behind him and slid a hand under the cat's belly, its claws sticking to his shirt. “Oi, will let go of me.” Sanji laughed, Zoro didn't think he had ever heard the other man laugh before he wanted to hear it again. He turned back around and dug through the fridge.

“Need some help Marmio? We had a ship cat on the braite, she used to keep the mice and rats at bay. She had died of old age a week before I met all of you. She would sleep with the old geezer,” Sanji shut the fridge door and turned back around with a small fish in his hand. He made a tounge clicking noise and tapped the counter with his fingers. That cat left him for Sanji. “Here you go kitty,” Sanji knelt down to feed the cat, letting it sniff his fingers before getting a head butt then deciding the fish in his hand was more interesting.

“What were you singing? I never heard that one before,” Zoro asked.

“It's one that Zeff and his crew made up, it's based on a ship they ran across in the grandline, it's a ghost ship with ragged black sails,” Sanji spoke while petting the cat.

“Speaking of the Grand Line… I got you a gift,” Zoro took the book out of his haramaki.

Sanji looked up at him, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he stared at him in confusion. “A gift? A gift for Me? Why would you get me a gift?”

“Because I like you dumbass, why else would I get you a gift? Here take it,” Zoro held out the book. What was wrong with Sanji that he couldn't just accept a gift, was this the first time someone gave him a gift? Blondie finally stood up and took the book from him.

“Gathering in the Grand Line,” Sanji read the title out loud before flipping through the book. “Thank you Zoro.”

“Your welcome Sanji,” he says rubbing the back of his neck a bit flustered.

“I don't feel like a thank you is enough, how about I show you my appreciation instead,” Sanji smirked at him before putting the book down and stepping closer. “I think I should finish that blow job from the other night that you so rudely interrupted~”

***

Zoro stumbled out of the galley, his legs still shaky from Sanji’s blow job skills. They were absolutely repeating that experience at a later time.

“Well I see someone did a good job at gift giving,” Nami was smirking at him from where she sat on the railing, right on Sanji's spot. “Now go take a shower there’s clothes waiting for you on the coach along with roses, I couldn't get Sanji's favorite followers because they only grow in the north sea. You have a reservation at ADKT so hurry up. You are so lucky I'm so nice, Zoro!” Zoro glared at her and resisted the urge to say something back, because she was unfortunately correct. “So what did you even get him?”

“A cat and a book about gathering in the Grand Line,” Zoro wasn't about to admit that he had some help in picking out the gifts.

“A cat? Really?” Nami sighed. “Let me guess he loved both gifts. I guess you're secretly a big softy under that scary muscle mass.”

“Hey!” Zoro complained about being called soft.

“Just a big ole teddy bear,” Nami teased him with a wicked grin. “Does Sanji know what a big ole softy you are?”

“Shut up!” Zoro yelled before stomping away to shower, Namis laughter trailing behind him.

[opossumjournal]

The Magical Menagerie

This is an excerpt from the fic I'm working on. It's the scene where Hermione adopts Crookshakes at the start of PoA.

Walking into the pet shop, Hermione wasn't sure which of her senses were assaulted first. Between the smell of animals mixed with hay, feed, and that underlying poo scent, combined with the added considerable amount of pure noise coming from what felt like every cage, it was definitely a tie between hearing and smell. Although now that her eyes were adjusting to the dimmer lighting in the shop from the bright day outside, she noticed that every space seemed crammed with stuff. Be it animal cages, or shelving containing books and care items.

Hermione looked to the left to see a giant tortus with what appeared to be gems growing out of its shell at the front of a hall, leading to the reptiles, amphibians, and fish? Water animals? She was sure she just spotted a grindylow in the back, but wasn't sure what she would clarify them as. To her right were the Owls and other avians. She saw ravens, wildly tropical birds with bright plumage, but was quickly distracted when she heard a perfect replication of the shop woman's voice coming from a small, plain brown bird in a gold cage close to the checkout where Ron and Harry had gathered to talk to the shopkeep. In front of the shopkeeper, shiny black rats were taking turns examining Scabbers and playing jump rope with their tails. Scabbers was on the counter being examined by the shopkeep and having his honour defended by Ron.

Hermione felt the pull to look up in the corner of the tills enclave before she heard the curious "mrow?" and then the threatening growl of what may have been the largest orange fluff Hermione had ever seen. Before she had time to fully process the situation, the giant cat had lept off a bookcase it had been using as its perch and onto the counter, trying to swat at Scabbers. Scabbers, on high alert, managed to scramble off the counter, landing on the floor with a little splat sound. With a little jump and shaking himself off, Scabbers was up and out the door, Ron behind him, and Harry following. Hermione looked back to see the most gorgeous cat she had ever seen clean its paw in such a regal way while thoroughly ignoring the scolding he was getting from the shop woman. 

"Bad Crookshanks! That is a naughty kitty thing to do! This is why no one wants to adopt you." The shopkeep had started tidying the spilt stationery and small shiny items previously displayed on the checkout counter that every shop, everywhere was obligated to be placed by the till. Hermione rushed up before the woman could walk off to the back, needing to know more about this majestic man.

"Excuse me," Hermionie inquired in her most polite voice. "What do you mean by no one wants to adopt him?" She couldn't help herself; her hand had made its way to the cat to inspect before he butted his smooshed head against her palm and allowed her to scritch behind his ears. The woman turned around, putting some knickknacks in her apron pockets. Looking over at Hermione, she then blinked a few times to fully make sure she understood what she was looking at. She walked forward slowly, as if not to dispel whatever magic was at work to suddenly change the Ginger Grump into this snuggle rug. 

"As you saw earlier, he's never gotten on well with others. At best, most can hope for indifference from him, but, well, you just saw some of his worst. He can be downright vicious when he wants to be." The shop keeps rolling up her sleeves at the end of this to show the deep scratches running from wrist to elbow on one of her arms. "Being part Kneezle, he has quite strong magical traits like being able to sense people's intentions or finding things that may be obscured by magic. However, I think his scenes are a little off as he's never helped me find anything and is regularly unsociable." 

Hermionie, at this point, nearly had her arms full of thick orange fur, giving Crookshakes the most thorough, full-body scratch he had had in a long time. 

"How long has he been here for?" Hermione asked a little dreamily. The shopkeeper had to think about it for a moment, going so far as to scratch her chin, which Hermione would have found amusing if she weren't so completely taken with the most handsome ginger boy to ever grace the planet. 

"About 10 years or so? Just wondered in one day off the street. He looked like he had been on his own for a while, all skin and bones, took forever to get him to trust me enough to get him cleaned up and presentable. We posted lost pet flyers in the area and even put out an ad in the Daily Prophet, but no one ever came to pick him up. I figured, at this point, he had made himself happy here, and that was good enough. But well." The woman gestured to Crookshakes, who had crawled up and laid his head on Hermione's shoulder, arms sticking string out. He was so long, however, that his bowed back legs were still lazed on the counter, content to be half-held if it meant he could still keep getting pets.

"I'm sorry, did you say 10 years? He doesn't seem to be that old?" Hermione started feeling around his body, but he felt strong, thick muscles under his even thicker coat. 

The shop woman laughed. "Like I said dove, he's part kneezle. A kneezle can live up to 50 if properly looked after; depending on breeding and the care he receives, it wouldn't be impossible for this man to get up to 30 or 40." 

Hermione's eyes lit up. She was so happy to know that no matter what had happened to this big guy before, she would have plenty of time to love him so much it made up for all the time he spent alone. "I'll take him."

The shopkeep laughed again. "I was hoping you would say that. Because it's Crookshanks, I'll throw in some of his things for free, his favourite bed, some toys I'm convinced he plays with when no one is around, and the food he likes. Of course, you are welcome to buy more items if you want." 

Realizing they hadn't even talked about the price of Crookshakes, Hermione suddenly became nervous and a little bashful. Picking up on her discomfort, Crookshakes crawled further into her arms, almost draping himself across her shoulders and burying his head in her large hair. On reflex, Hermione scooped up his butt and carried him like a long, furry baby. "Well. Uhm. You see. I'm ever so grateful for your offer to give me his things. But I only have 10 galleons. Would that happen to be enough for him?" 

The shopkeeper was almost a little envious of the treatment this kid was receiving from one of the grumpiest cats she had ever had the pleasure to meet, but deciding she couldn't get in the way of this clear bond made an executive decision. 

"You know, Crookshakes only came out to 5 galleons due to us trying to entice someone to take him home. That would allow you to get a bag of these treats, which are his favourite, and maybe this calming collar to put on him, just in case he decides he won't let up with your friend's pet. All together, it'll come to 10 galleons." She made literally no profit on this sale; in fact, she is eating it quite a bit, but she can't help but want things to go well for the big guy and this sweet kiddo.

Hermionie happily handed over the money, took the bag that the witch was kind enough to shrink all of his items down into, with assurances they would resize when taken out of the bag, then took her armful of ginger boy and happily made her way out to Harry and Ron. Maybe it was the excitement of wanting to show them the most majestic man or the blinding love and familiarity she had never felt for any other animal, but she completely forgot that the kitten she was about to show her friends had just tried to eat Ron's own pet.