#(I am not actually this vehement about this but let's just say if I have to write a kwami I much prefer Plagg)

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 ### : 」 Modern AU ish !! GN Reader gets drunk at the club !! But Navia and Clorinde stay with you through it tho, because they're your good friends !! This is literally just humor and reader not recognizing Wrio but gushing over your husband so so much !! Reader swears when drunk bc same lmao

Had a vision. No editing. Feast on this while I feast on my Nissin Bulalo cup noodles.

The moment Wriotheseley steps into the club, he immediately spots you. Even over the painful strobing lights, the sea of dancing bodies, he can single you out a mile away— regardless of the fact that you're slumped over the bar, drunk out of your mind.

"Navia, Clorinde," he greets with a wave, hurrying over. His voice has to be almost a yell to be heard over the loud music.

They sit on either barstool beside you, bracketing you between them. When he approaches, Clorinde hands him your phone, and he knows who he has to thank for the 'come pick your bae up' text. The moment he's close enough, he's already looking you over, making sure you're alright.

"Sweetheart," Wriothesley tries to rouse you, but you just mumble and splay out further on the bar. Your hand knocks into a mostly-emptied glass of what he can only assume was tonight's poison of choice.

"How many—"

"More than five," Navia tells him, grinning sheepishly, just as Clorinde says, "Nine."

Your husband shakes his head fondly, sighing, and turns back to you. "Sweetheart," he tries again, voice a bit louder. He places a heavy hand on your waist, coaxing you up. "Let's g—"

But at the touch, your eyes —still hazy and unfocused on account of the nine drinks you've had— shoot open, and you whirl on him in your seat. If not for the hold he still keeps on your hip, you may have just toppled over. There's a look of unbridled, drunken rage on your face, more comical than actually terrifying.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you hiss, slurring, as you wrench his hand off of you and fling it away with such contempt that he has to stifle a laugh. "Keep your hands off of the masterpieces, bucko."

Not even giving him a moment to breathe, you shove your left hand in his face, vehemently pointing at the ring that sits on your fourth finger. "I! Am! Married! If I tell my husband that you're out here getting handsy, he's gonna come and kick your ass sooo hard. He's gonna rock your shit, you trick ass bitch, if i don't do it myself!"

Wriothesley shouldn't find this funny— he shouldn't. But Navia and Clorinde and fighting smiles behind their palms themselves, and he can't help the grin that breaks across his face.

"Oh? Is your husband that strong?" He can't help but ask, and you scoff.

"Is he that strong— you wanna find out for yourself? Huh? Wriothesley could— could—" you hiccup, and he has to fight the urge to coo. "He could knock you out with just a flick of his fingers, you know!"

"And is your Wriothesley more handsome than me?"

You turn your nose up at him, scowling. Once, twice, you try to cross your arms in contempt as you drunkenly look him up and down.

"You're alright," you begrudge, "but my Wriothesley is the— the most handsomest man in the world! The fucking prettiest! No one holds a candle to my husband and his broad shoulders and his thick thighs and his... and his adorable smile."

Wriothesley has to bite his lip to control his grin. Navia is fighting for her life to stifle her giggles, and Clorinde hides her amused smile behind a cough.

It's like that loosened your tongue though, and you continue on, oblivious to the embarrassment you'd face the next morning.

"And he— he'll be very upset when he finds out that you're here, hitting on someone who is very happily married to one of the best men on this side of the fucking galaxy, so— so you can fuck off!"

He really, really tries his best to not laugh.

You huff, patting down your pockets and grumbling incoherently about your phone, not even questioning it when Wriothesley hands it back to you himself. It takes only a second of you furiously tapping your screen before his own phone buzzes in his pants.

[Sweetheart ♡]

babe pookie pick e ip plrase im drunk and i wanna go homd snd yhere's this assholr hitting o me love yoy [location attached]

As soon as the texts go out though, you yawn and the energy leaves you in one fell swoop. Wriothesley manages to catch you before you face plant back on the bar and break your nose, maneuvering you to lean into his chest. The fight escaping you, you nuzzle into his black button up, rubbing your face against him like a big cat.

"Mmm. I know that cologne." Blearily, you look up and make eye contact with those pretty, pretty blue eyes, and your face immediately lights up in the most delighted grin. "Wrio!" you gasp, arms coming to wrap around his waist and pull him towards you. You're still drunk, still pretty out of it, but it melts his heart how overjoyed you are to see him.

"Hi sweetheart," he says fondly, running a hand through your hair. Happily, you lean into his touch. "Have a fun time with Navia and Clorinde?"

"Mhm. Missed you though." Then, your eyes pop open and you sit up, looking around furiously as if you're looking for someone. When you don't find this person, you lean in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear— "There was this guy who tried to make the moves on me, you know! But I told him that I'm super duper married and with the bestest husband ever— if you wanna double team him, I'm sure the guy's around here somewhere."

But your husband just chuckles, pulling you back into his embrace. Smoothly, Wriothesley has you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist so he can easily pick you up and into his arms.

"You two need a ride home?" He asks the two, but they shake their heads.

"Appreciated, but we only split a drink between us," Clorinde says, already standing up alongside Navia. "We'll be fine."

"Get home safe, you two!" The blonde says, waving you off, and that's that.

Wriothesley easily maneuvers the two of you out of the club, you having already fallen asleep on his shoulder. He can hear your soft breaths in his ear and feel the way you cling to him even in your sleep. No doubt you'd have a raging hangover tomorrow, but that's okay— because you'll have him to take care of you, too.

Bonus!!

You wake up to hands down the worst fucking headache in your whole life. Your temple hurts so hard that you swear your head's gonna crack open like an egg. Groaning, you pull the covers over your head and roll over, blotting out the mid-day sunlight as best as you can.

There's a chuckle from the other side of the bed, then weight moving across the sheets— then your husband's face appears in front of you, under the blankets too.

"So, darling sweetheart of mine" he starts, voice soft as to not aggravate your headache, and you're grateful. "What were you saying about my broad shoulders and my thick thighs?"

You're suddenly not as grateful.

Promptly, you kick him out of your blanket cave, and he goes with a laugh. He leaves you grumbling on the bed, cursing out all the drinks you had last night and swearing to never ever ever drink again.

Wriothesley grins, shutting the curtains of your bedroom as he ambles out the door, dead set on getting you water, advil, and something to eat.

Maybe by the end of the day, you'd add 'endlessly doting' to the list.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #cw alcohol #wriothesley #genshin impact

[watatsumiis]

Sitting in their lap (part 1)

Exactly what it says on the tin, how various Genshin characters would react to a reader who just decides to sit on their lap randomly!

Content: Gender neutral reader (referred to as 'you'), described/implied to be physically smaller than most of the characters (simply because I am and that's how I project, but if you'd like an alternate version, send me an ask and I'll whip it up!), pre-established platonic relationships (though this may border into romantic if you consider physical affection to be that way, so be warned).

Characters: Albedo, Al Haitham, Ayato, Arlecchino, Capitano, Childe.

Albedo just sort of... lets it happen. He's got no qualms about you making yourself comfortable in his lap - unless you start to get in the way, in which case he might just politely try and redirect you elsewhere. He isn't particularly fidgety or squirmy, and he finds that the pressure of your weight in his lap actually helps him concentrate a little better, and sometimes he'll let you stay, even long after he's finished up whatever he might be working on. Be warned, though, he may rope you into holding art or writing supplies for him! He doesn't care if others see, he's never really been one to care all that much about what others think or say. If it's benefiting you both, there's no real reason to stop it.

Al Haitham gets pretty irritated the first time you plonk down in his lap like you have every right to sit there. He's almost downright rude about it, making snide little remarks and grumbling to himself about how you're in the way - you may find that he just outright boots you off if you're somewhere where others might see you (especially Kaveh). As long as you stand your ground, though, he'll eventually settle for it, and he may deny it but sometimes he sits a little further out from his desk, just so you have space to slip into his lap and snuggle up to him if you so desire. If you ask him about the sudden change of heart, he'll quote something about how pressure can help the parasympathetic nervous system kick in, and how humans are a social species and how he's read that physical closeness every once in a while is good for physical and mental health. Damn know-it-all.

Ayato openly adores it. He has a lot of paperwork to do on a day-to-day basis, and any excuse to have some silent company is good enough for him. He can be absently fidgety, twirling your hair around his fingers or rubbing a loose part of your clothing gently - he hardly even seems to notice that he's doing it at all. He's ambidextrous, so you have a lot of freedom in how you decide to sit, he's happy to work around you, so long as you aren't too loud or distracting. You may even find that every once in a while when he knows he'll be swamped with paperwork, he might call you into his office and subtly try to goad you into sitting with him (while making it seem as if it was your own idea all along, cheeky thing he is). The pressure and physical closeness of someone else helps him concentrate on the tedious, repetitive papers he works on.

Arlecchino can be... finicky. It largely depends on her mood and what sort of day she's had whether or not she'll allow you to sit on her lap. She's pretty touchy on the days she allows you to sit in her lap, constantly adjusting your position and tugging you closer to herself - if you didn't know any better, you'd say she was actually enjoying this, but she vehemently denies it, citing the fact that she figured you were in need of comfort and she was just trying to provide it, or that she just hadn't switched out of 'working with the children at the orphanage' mode. She may scold you if you wriggle around too much, or boot you off with very little rhyme or reason, so it's a bit of a gamble if you decide to try and settle in with her for the long run.

Capitano silently takes it. No protests, no comment, nothing, he just leans back in his chair and adjusts his position so it's as comfortable for you as it could possibly be (which is surprisingly nice, considering all the armour he wears). He won't complain, even if you won't stop wriggling around or chattering or playing with his hair or the chains that hang off of his plate mail. He quickly gets very good at reading your intent, and eventually he seems to realise what you want the moment you step in the room, and he'll just silently push his chair back and give his thigh a pat like an open invitation. He may occasionally use you as a chin-rest, or wrap his big arms gently around you if you seem to be getting restless, but otherwise he's silent and hands-off.

Childe is a little all over the place. He loves the idea of you sitting in his lap, he loves physical affection, but in practice, he can't stay still for more than a few minutes without his senses going haywire, and it won't be long until he's bothering you, asking you a million questions or fidgeting with your clothes or accessories in a manner that's downright disconcerting. He never gets any paperwork or anything done when anyone else is in the room, let alone so close to him, but he loves it anyways. He'll chatter away excitedly about anything and everything that comes to mind as he snuggles up to you and smiles, glad that you came to him, of all people, in your quest for affection.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin self insert #my writing #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #platonic genshin x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin albedo #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #ayato #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #capitano #genshin capitano #capitano x reader #childe #childe x reader #ajax #ajax x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #sitting in lap series

[homunculus-argument]

Most of the time when people disagree with me, they do not actually have an opposing opinion on any part of what I am saying. They just didn't like the way I worded something, and jumped to say "well that's just not true!" without pausing to consider whether we've got any kind of a mutual understanding of what words mean. I had an argument with someone some time ago that started with me saying "there are no happy surprises in nature", and someone vehemently, passionately disagreeing. Nature is full of delightful surprises! Knowing where this was going (that they had misunderstood me, but would not hear my clarification about what I meant), I decided to just let this wrestle run its course. I told them to name one.

Suggestion: Sometimes you see birds! Counterpoint: That is not a surprise. If they're native birds, they're supposed to be there, so it's not a surprise to see them. If they are not native birds, and you're surprised to see them there, that is not a happy surprise.

Suggestion: The weather changes and the seasons change! Counterpoint: It's supposed to do that. The weather and seasons doing things that are supposed to happen in this climate and region is not a surprise. Abnormal freak weather, like tornadoes in Sweden or a snowstorm in Morocco, is not a happy surprise, but a devastating catastrophy.

Suggestion: Sometimes you see animals and get to watch them do animal behaviour! Counterpoint: They're supposed to be there, and they're supposed to do that. Squirrels doing things that squirrels are supposed to do isn't surprising. Deer doing things that deer are supposed to do isn't surprising. If the animals are doing something that these animals are not supposed to do, that is not a happy surprise. And you'd better run because whatever is making them do that might be contagious.

Suggestion: There's beautiful trees and landscapes! Counterpoint: Not a surprise. They're supposed to be there.

This went back and forth, until the person in question finally understood that I could not be convinced that there are happy surprises in nature. The matter was not that we disagreed about what there is in nature, but what the word "surprise" means. By "surprise" I meant the dictionary definition: Something unexpected, that you had not anticipated you might encounter. I still have no idea what they thought that the word "surprise" means.

[queers-gambit]

Alpine

prompt: in an effort to help your boyfriend with his trauma, you rescue a furry feline together - a white cat named, Alpine - who rescues you both in return.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 6.9k+

note: been seeing a lot of Alpine recently and got inspired.

second note: no, it's not comic / canon compliant so just have fun. author did some research but there's not a LOT written / known about Alpine, so, again, just have fun!

warnings: post Endgame, pre tfaws; cursing, Lord's name in vain, small angst, mostly hurt and comfort, Nick Fury calling reader a bitch playfully, Bucky's trauma responses, small spoilers, Dr. Raynor / therapy.

other works with Widow!reader and Bucky NOT necessary to read

read here: Damage Done

"Are you angry with me?"

"No."

"Disappointed? Annoyed? Frustrated?"

"No, doll."

"Then why won't you talk to me!?"

"Nothing to say."

You wiped a hand down your face, lifting it only to pinch the bridge of your nose. Your head shook to shake away your thoughts, sniffling emotion, sighing when you dropped your hand to slap against your thigh. "I'm really trying here, Bucky, I swear to you, I am. But I can't help if you don't talk to me," you softened your voice, beginning to understand this was a losing battle.

"I never said I needed help."

"You never have to ask me for help, Bucky, I just give it because I want to! Because I love you! That's part of being in a relationship!"

"Maybe I don't want it!" Your boyfriend snapped, rounding on you with unfiltered emotion in his eyes. The horrors swam in his baby blues, vivid memories he was unable to escape haunting him, terrorizing him; creating a shell of a man who could no longer hide his avid pain. "Did you ever think about that? Ever consider that I don't want your help because I don't need it?"

"Everyone needs help sometimes, Buck."

"No, not everyone - I'm not one of your pet projects, you don't get to treat me like a broken thing that needs fixed! I certainly don't need your pity - not yours."

"I don't pity you! Fuck's sake, Bucky, I love you and want to see you heal. I know you better than anyone - "

"You don't," he sneered, cutting you off. "You don't know me, not really, not as well as Steve - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Steve isn't here! He's not coming back!" You snapped, instantly regretting it when Bucky's eyes coated with glassy emotion he fought vehemently to keep down. "I-I'm sorry, that was - that was really mean of me and totally out of line," you apologized, both sighing deeply. "All right, look, let's just talk this out, please."

"There's nothing to say."

Your hip cocked, arms crossing, "She called me, you know."

"Who?"

"Dr. Raynor."

"Fuck's sake," he growled. "Why would she do that?"

"Maybe because today's session was, apparently, supposed to be a couples session. She thought I was refusing, called to say I was impeding on your progress and if I want to help you, I'd have to show up to your appointments. Which is really funny because you never told me about today, so I had no idea what the hell she was talking about - but that didn't stop her from tearing me a new asshole!"

He frowned, avoiding your eyes. "I didn't need a couples session. Not today, I just - I wanted today to focus on other shit."

"And I can respect that, but you're not doing yourself any favors by hiding shit from me. To get the best results from therapy, you have to actually do the work, and not just do what Dr. Raynor says, but actually listen to her advice - "

"I don't need you on my back about this, Raynor does that enough for you both," Bucky growled. "I do the fucking work - I'm the one in that room, I'm the one applying silly little rules to my life - "

"Obviously not if you didn't even tell me Raynor requested my attendance! You should've told me, and then you should've said you weren't ready! I would've respected that, but I can't do a Goddamn thing if you don't talk to me!"

His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, skin twitching and distinct muscles tightening. "Like I said, there's nothing to talk about," he practically spat, shaking his head at you before grabbing his sneakers from the closet.

You didn't mean to sound harsh, but demanded, "Where are you going? We're in the middle of a conversation."

"No, we're not, 'cause I'm ending it," he scoffed, sitting on the corner of your shared mattress, exchanged his shoes. "And I'm going for a run, need to clear my head."

You shook your head before leaving the bedroom, "Absolutely unbelievable."

Bucky left your shared apartment a few minutes later, somewhere you've only lived five months - the time it's been since Tony Stark, Iron Man, snapped the other half of living beings back into existence. He lost his life in return, the ultimate sacrifice, but he managed to reverse the damage Thanos created five years prior. Five months of living in this apartment without a lick of warmth, personal touch, or real sentiment; it being dreary, dark, and mostly empty. Hell, Bucky didn't even feel comfortable in bed, so he camped in the barren living room, giving visual to the way your relationship was beginning to fray, unravel, crack.

He didn't want anything personal in your apartment - thinking it was ridiculous to settle down after all you two have endured, witnessed, and fought for. You agreed to keep things at the bare minimum, only stocking what was necessary, knowing this was part of his healing process and didn't want to drum-up further anxiety. It made everything impersonal, boring, bland, and down right depressing - but it was a small accommodation you could provide your lover.

You hated the distance. Hated how alone Bucky felt after Steve. Hated how reclusive he became, the anger he projected. Hated how no matter what you did, you weren't enough - not this time. For years, you've loved him despite his flaws, his brainwashing, his trauma responses, but whatever he was enduring now was something you weren't equipped to handle. Didn't mean you weren't willing to try, but Bucky was the one pushing you away; thinking his demons were his sole responsibility, never letting you be the pillar that helped support him. God, you hated the distance.

You left the apartment, too. Nick Fury had employed you for creative, solo, high profile missions; wanting to utilize your Widow training, especially now that Natasha Romanoff was deceased. And you wanna know what? Bucky hadn't even asked about her, never tried to offer comfort, only quietly attending the funeral service you hosted with the remaining Avengers to give her a proper sendoff - despite there being no body. Bucky knew you and Nat were as thick as thieves, family without blood, two lost souls who leaned on each other in trying times; bonded by trauma, encouraged by resounding bravery, disciplined by strength. The fact that your boyfriend never even checked in with you after Nat's passing obviously hurt your feelings but you remained silent.

Again, to avoid generating more anxiety for Bucky.

You met the one-eyed man at a local, bustling coffee shop, finding the sight of the hardened, burly man eating a scone amusing. "Got you one of these," he nudged a dessert plate to your side of the table when you sat down with your desired coffee, "know you like 'em."

"Blueberries are my favorite," you half-smirked, regarding the moist muffin and sighing sadly. "All right, sir, what's on the docket?"

He stared at you for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before leaning back in his chair. "The fuck's going on with you?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You look different today."

"Mh," you nodded, joking, "got a hair cut."

"No, it's your aura. Something bothering you, kid?"

"You do realize I'm a fully grown adult, right?"

Nick shrugged, "I don't see age."

"You don't - nobody sees age, Nick, Jesus."

He took a sip of his green tea. "There's still something bothering you. Not sure if you should go on this mission if you're wound tight."

"I'm just dealing with shit at home."

"Oh, right, the cyborg. How is the hundred year old psycho?"

"You you want me to stab out your other eye? 'Cause I fucking will," you threatened with a fork clenched in your grasp, perking your brows up your forehead. "Say that shit again, see what the fuck I do, Nick, I absolutely dare you."

He chuckled, hands held in defense, "Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for. What's wrong with Sergeant Barnes?"

You shrugged, "It's complicated."

"Bitch, aliens opening a wormhole in space and time to invade Earth is complicated - relationships aren't. Try me."

After an amused chuckle, you told him, "He's struggling right now. You know? After everything, it's been a lot for him and now that things are relatively back to normal, he's having a hard time trying to assimilate himself back into the populace. You know, learning to live in this day and age - a man out of time, outside his comfort zone, forced to adjust himself after living as a weapon of mass destruction for so long. Add in the fact that his best friend passed, marking another forceful adjustment he's unprepared for..."

"Hm," Nick nodded, "heard he's got a full pardon."

"He does."

"Which has a contingency he's gotta go to therapy, right? Part of rejoining society?"

You nodded, "Right, again."

"So he's in therapy and still struggling?"

"It's not like there's an on-off switch, Nick, therapy takes time and dedication. I just don't think he feels at peace, calm, in control - like he deserves any of this; the pardon especially. Think the stress, fear, and confusion is eating at him."

"Well, he's got you."

"I'm not his mother."

"No, you're his girlfriend, and it's a girlfriend's responsibility to support him, ain't it? Help him through this?"

"I can only do so much, Nick," you scoffed, "I'm just one person and he's a stubborn jackass - he just pushes me away. I'm sure I don't help the situation by accepting your contracts."

Fury considered your words for a long moment, then asked, "You said he's lonely?"

"Wouldn't you? Given his situation? He won't say, but I know losing Steve caused a part of him die."

Nick shrugged, "So get him a dog."

You never wouldn't guessed those words could ever pass Nick Fury's lips, head cocking, eyes narrowing, arms crossed over your chest. "I'm sorry, do what now?"

"It's obvious, ain't it? Dude needs company when you're gone, a sense of purpose, to feel like there was something - or someone - depending on him. Might help whatever limbo he's lingering in."

"A dog?"

"A dog. He can take it for walks or whatever."

You considered his recommendation, asking again, "A dog?"

"Do we need to get your hearing checked again? You lose the last functionality of your ears? Yes, a dog."

"I don't know..."

"It's just a suggestion, might promote his peace, help him process grief and guilt. Telling you, a dog would do him good. Now," he took another sip of tea, "onto business."

"You give me whiplash," you chuckled. "What's this job?"

"Simple and easy," he pulled up a tablet from the chair beside him, tapping it three times and handing it to you.

"None of your jobs are simple or easy, Nicky-Nick."

"I told you, don't call me that. Look, I just need you in London to investigate a string of potential terrorist activity. Just some recon, you won't be gone more than a few days - if you behave and stay on task."

You scanned the document, "When do I ever do that?" He chuckled briefly, you wondering, "Flagsmashers? Jesus, what a name. C'mon, you can't be serious. These guys are just radicals - you know, trying to vouch for those displaced after the Blip. It's actually kinda endearing, I mean, they're trying to give a microphone to those without a voice."

"They're escalating - too quickly," Fury informed. "They haven't raised any international flags yet, but something ain't right about them. I just need you as eyes and ears, maybe report if you think they're worth the worry."

Little did you know, in only about a month, you would join forces with Bucky and Sam Wilson - The Falcon - to dismantle the organization.

"When do I leave?"

"Tuesday would be ideal. But I can push it to Friday if you wanna go get that dog."

Your laughter was endearing, handing the tablet back over.

Bucky liked holding hands, though, he often wouldn't ever voice it. It made him feel tethered, anchored to reality; instilling a sense of pride to have such a gorgeous lady - such as yourself - at his side. However, the part he liked most, was being reminded he wasn't alone; even when on crowded, overpopulated streets, he didn't have to be afraid because with his hand in yours, he looked just like everyone else. You protected him even without intending to or without even knowing what you were doing.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he sighed, people on the street sidestepping and avoiding running into you two. "I was upset, stressed out, you know how I get after seeing Raynor."

"It's okay, baby," you assured, ever the patient, loyal, and supportive girlfriend he needed. "I'm not holding it against you, but just promise me, when you're ready, you'll tell me."

He nodded, "I will - I mean, I promise." You hummed and pet his bicep with your other hand, giving his arm a hug. "Now are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"I told you, it's a surprise."

He was ready to reply when a small commotion echoed from the alley you were passing, Bucky coming to a jarring halt that yanked on your arm, swinging you around. You were ready to ask what was happening when you clocked one of Bucky's "friends", an older man named Yori Nakajima, arguing with one of his neighbors.

"Hey, hey, Yori," Bucky intervened, you watching from the mouth of the alley, "woah, hey, what's going on?"

You couldn't hear whatever Yori was saying, but Bucky turned to the other man and growled something at him that made the neighbor scurry off. He glared at you, lip curled in a sneer, disappearing amongst patrons of the crowded sidewalk. You frowned and approached Yori and Bucky, your boyfriend still trying to calm his friend - well, 'friend' was a very generous term. See, Yori was the father of a young man that died by the hand of the Winter Soldier, being a name on Bucky's list he needed to make amends with.

However, when you took your place beside Bucky, Yori was waving you both off and shuffling down the alley, towards one of his apartment building's doors. "What was that all about?" You asked softly, taking note of the disgruntled expression your boyfriend usually wore these days.

"Just," he sighed, shaking his head, "Yori's upset with some of his neighbors - thinks they're encroaching on being disrespectful."

"When doesn't he?" Bucky sighed, you wondering softly, "You think you're ever gonna feel ready to tell him?"

"I'm working on it," he sighed sadly. "All right, c'mon - "

You both paused with furrowed brows when there came a series of shrill meows from under a couple of soggy, cardboard boxes beside a dumpster. "Did you hear that?" You asked.

"Uh-huh."

Another elongated meow was heard, Bucky curiously approach the discarded trash coated in sewage sludge. He slowly squatted, you approaching his shoulder when another meow cried out. Now, normally, you'd never investigate animal noises out of fear they were feral and carrying disease, but something just felt sad about what you heard - apparently, to Bucky, too. Gingerly, he reached out and lifted a piece of dripping cardboard, seeing a bundle moving under the next piece. He moved that one, too.

"Oh, my God!" You cooed when a tiny kitten was revealed. White fur was stained with dirt, sludge, and other nasty juices; nose pink, eyes a piercing, clear blue with brownish tear stains rimming them. The kitten mewed in greeting, pacing a tight circle before trying to back up in the brick wall; hunching its back and hissing slightly when you lowered yourself into a squat beside Bucky. "Baby, it's all alone, should we help?" You pouted.

"I don't think it wants our help, doll," he sighed. "It looks scared of us. Bet the mother's around somewhere, be a shame to move it if she's coming back."

"It looks too skinny, maybe it's alone?"

"Or maybe it's not," Buck countered. "C'mon, sugar, we can't take it."

After a bit of back and forth, you finally relented and had to walk away. You frowned for at least two blocks, but upon your halt at a crosswalk, you were greeted by another shrieking meow. Whipping around, you and Buck both looked down to discover the wee little kitten had followed you and was practically yelling for your attention. You grinned.

"Well, now we really have to help it," you told Bucky.

"How?"

"We take it to a shelter," you answered, shrugging, "good thing I know where one is."

"What's it doing?" Bucky asked nervously, the kitten dancing around your legs; brushing up against you both, meowing the whole time.

"I think she wants you to pick her up," you smirked.

He sighed and stooped to scoop the little creature in hand, regarding it carefully; weighing it, checking paws and other vulnerable spots. Bucky muttered, "All right, yeah, fine, let's take him to a shelter. Little beast needs some food it feels like, definitely a flea bath and some fresh water."

"You big softie."

"Lead the way to the shelter, princess, c'mon," he ignored your jab, tucking the kitten into his chest protectively. "He feels fragile," Bucky worried, "maybe you should carry him, I might crush him."

"You've got the little babe, Buck," you assured, "you're not gonna hurt him - I mean, if it's even a him."

"By the attitude, could be a girl," he joked, making your heart lighten. He'd been in such a funk that you missed his teasing, soft words; the little jokes he cracked, his smile - God, you missed seeing his smile. During your time on the run after DC, while seeking refuge in Bucharest for a couple years, you grew accustomed to seeing his radiant smile; remembering how easily he offered it when just the two of you. For a moment, you considered how your relationship was no longer just you and Bucky - but his trauma, too.

Arriving at the shelter, it was like an assault on the senses. Dogs were heard barking from the kennels, the pungent smell of urine and wood chips smacking you in the face, and a sort of humidity lingering in the air - a sharp contrast to the crisp outside.

"Hi," you greeted the receptionist, offering a kind smile.

"Hi, there. How can I help you two?" The man with long hair asked.

"Well, uh, two things," you explained, "one: we'd like to tour your kennels, we're interested in adopting a dog - "

"We are?" Bucky gaped.

" - and two: we found this little fella in an alley," you pointed to the kitten curled protectively against Bucky's warmth. "We wanted to make sure he was okay, maybe leave him here for adoption?"

"Oh," Man Bun blinked, regarding both Bucky and the kitten, "wow, uh, yeah, that's really nice of you guys, rescuing the little guy. You know, since everyone came back few months ago, there's be an influx of strays. A lot of people gave up their animals when their loved ones came back."

"Well, that's super fucked up," your eyes rolled.

"Tell me about it," he sighed. "Look, I'd love to help you guys out, so, tell you what. I can let you back in the kennels - no problem! Help match you to your new companion, but, uh... I don't think I can help you with the cat. You see, we, uh, we've had to start euthanizing the overflow animals or the ones who don't get adopted in a timeframe. We're at our max capacity, so... If you wanna leave him here, uh, I can't promise he'll have a place."

"You'd put him down?" Bucky growled.

"It's not what we want to do," Man Bun swiftly explained, "but it's just necessary - we don't have the room or resources to take him."

"Do you know of any no-kill shelters? Maybe one that has room?" You asked, feeling Bucky's disgust rolling off him in waves.

"Not in the area," Man Bun frowned. "Honestly? I think the closest no-kill shelter's in Maryland. Maybe Virginia?"

"Jesus," you frowned, looking at Bucky.

"Look, my best advice?" Man Bun offered, "Take the little tike home, clean him up, and call around to other shelters to see if they have space. But if you intend to adopt a dog, maybe bringing back a kitten isn't the best timing. If you give him up to us, he'll probably be sent directly to overflow..."

"We'll take him home," Bucky instantly decided, shocking you.

"We will?" You asked softly, lips curling in a small smile.

"Why not?" He sighed.

"I would've thought you'd be more of a dog person..."

"I'm not an animal person, but we're not leaving this little guy here just for him to be euthanized. We can handle him for a few days, you know, until we find a shelter with room."

"I think that's a great idea," you grinned.

"But was this your plan? For us to adopt a dog?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Why?"

You shrugged, "Just thought a dog would be nice company when I'm outta town for work. You know, could go on walks or runs together, you'd have someone looking out for you, maybe a dog would help with your stress levels?"

He eyed you for a moment, sighing, "I appreciate that, doll. Maybe another time, though? At least let us find somewhere or someone to take this guy."

The kitten gave a prolonged squeak - seemingly agreeing. "All right, noisy, we hear you," you chuckled, giving the kitten's head a scratch. You asked Man Bun, "Do you guys have the means to check him over, you know, before we go home? Make sure he's not injured or something?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "let me go get one of the technicians."

After the tech's exam, you were given the paperwork from that day's visit, the name, number, and address of a recommended vet, and before you knew it, found yourselves at the local pet store. You would've been ashamed by the absurd amount of money you spent, but Bucky rationalized the need because you weren't sure how long your new companion would stay with you. So, you ransacked the store, buying a sizable litter box, 50 pounds of actual litter, a bag of kibble, case of wet food, several different treats, a balm for the baby's feet, too many toys and stimulation activities, a carrying case in the event of transporting the kitten, and a tiny collar - if you decided to keep the little noise machine.

The sight of Bucky with the little fuzz ball warmed your heart. He still seemed hesitant and stiff, as if afraid to hurt the kitten, but he wasn't so tense anymore. However, he handed the pet over for you to hold while he carried the supplies back home; biceps bulging to support the weight. In that moment, walking familiar streets with his arms full of cat supplies, he questioned how he got here - to feel all domestic and out-of-place. He was Bucky Barnes - a Sargent in the Army, prolific hitman, something of an Avenger now. He didn't adopt cats and buy toys!

However, watching you talk to the kitten softly, he smiled - something small at first that grew like a germinating seed to split his face. You seemed so... Bright, excited, rejuvenated, even. He knew the past five months since the Blip had been rough on you, what with losing Natasha, fighting Thanos and his army of aliens, then ricocheting into 'normal life' only to deal with his emotional baggage. Watching you walk down the street with a fuzzy white ball of energy, pointing out different things, cooing and narrating the city to the kitten as if he could understand was refreshing after seemingly seeing nothing but a frown on your lips recently.

To Bucky, as long as you were happy, he was happy - and it seemed you were very content with your new little buddy. So, he was happy with your new little buddy and figured a dose of domestic life wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he actually felt... Intrigued by the newest addition to your little family.

When you returned home, it was to an empty apartment. Bucky dropped the supplies in the living room, hands to his hips, looking around, "Well, uh... At least there's room to run around, right?"

You nodded, "And no risk of ruined furniture."

"Yeah," he sighed, watching you set the kitten down. "All right, pip squeak. C'mon, lemme give you the tour - pay attention. So, in here," he moved around the wall, kitten following and listening intently, labeling, "this is the kitchen, this is where you'll get your meals - and no, you're not allowed on the counters." He pointed a warning finger, "Don't let me catch you up there or there's gonna be hell to pay. I don't wanna find your hair in my morning bagel."

"Buck, you don't eat breakfast."

"Fine, then I don't wanna hear my girl found hair in her bagel."

The kitten mewed loudly, trotting to keep up as Bucky walked around the barren apartment - giving a literal tour. You unpacked the supplies, setting up a raised food bowl beside a full water bowl. You left the treats in an empty cupboard, the litter box ready to use in the bathroom, and tossed some toys around the open, empty living room floor. You meandered, stashing other supplies, hearing the scampering thuds of excited little feet.

When your head popped out of the kitchen, you grinned at what you saw. Bucky was sat on the floor, flicking a feathered stick over the hardwood floors for the kitten to race around and try to catch. The longer you watched, the more defenseless Bucky seemed, and dare you say it, he looked calm - maybe even happy. His eyes were locked on the animal's antics as if he didn't want to miss a single movement he made; small smile making him look younger and brighter.

You made a mental note to thank Nick Fury for his suggestion. Sure, he actually said to get a dog, but this kitten seemed to have the same effect.

"Hey, baby?" You called, hanging up your phone after calling the recommended vet. "So, uh... Listen, you know how I have to go outta town on Friday?"

"Yeah?" He glanced up, letting the kitten wrestle his booted foot.

"So, I managed to get a vet appointment but it's for Friday. Is that okay? Or do you want me to reschedule for when I'm back so we can go together?"

"Oh, uh, no, that's all right, sugar, keep the Friday slot. I can take him, it's not a big deal."

"You sure? I hate having to saddle you with this responsibility."

"I'm sure," he nodded, "I can take him, it's okay."

For the rest of the week, you had a front row viewing of an incredible bond being formed. The kitten liked you, you two had many moments together, but it was obvious the little guy adored Bucky. He was stuck to your boyfriend like Velcro, following him everywhere, shrieking for attention when Bucky was preoccupied, liked being held when he cooked, even tried to get in the shower with Bucky. They played together, Bucky's laugh warming the entire apartment; positively obsessed with one another, the little guy even sleeping between you and Bucky.

It was as if you both forgot to look for the kitten a permanent home, the lack of furniture providing wide space for play and entertainment. Bucky even got one of those cat trees, couple individual scratching posts, and a laser pointer that drove your furry friend up the wall. There was some unspoken rule about naming animals - where if you named them, they were yours officially. So, one evening over dinner, you proposed a few names, Bucky giving his opinion; but then you began to consider "theme" names. Because your little buddy was white, you mused over names like Noelle or Snow, but finally settled on Alpine after narrowly beating out Aspen.

The day you flew to London, you warned both Bucky and kitten to behave themselves. Later that night, while you were sat in a tinted SUV for surveillance, your phone rang with Bucky's contact. "Hey, baby, how's it going?" You answered, refocusing through your advanced camera lens to snap necessary photos.

"Good, yeah. Uh, how's London?"

"Pretty dreary, it's been raining all day. Hey, how was the vet appointment?"

'Oh, yeah, no, it was, uh, yeah, it was good. Gave Alpine a buncha shots, microchipped her, started her on antibiotics - "

"Did you say, 'her'?"

"Yeah, that was the other thing - turns out, Alpine's a girl."

You chuckled, "Well, I'll be damned. How're you feelin', Buck?"

"I'm... Okay."

"I'm sorry I'm not there," you sighed. "Nightmares again?"

"Yeah."

"Sleeping in the living room?"

"You know it."

"TV on?"

"Reminds me I'm not where I dreamt I am."

"Well, I'll be home in a few days."

"What's this mission?"

"Just a little recon, I'm only to observe. Nicky told me to keep an eye on some suspicious activity."

"Don't tell me you're sitting in a white van?"

"No, sir, it's a Rolls Royce this time," you chuckled.

True to your word, you were home by Tuesday night. The transatlantic flight was long and tedious; a storm creating steady turbulence, making it absolutely impossible to get any shut eye. When you landed, you made a beeline to the Starbucks and got the largest coffee possible with an added 2 shots of espresso before exiting the bustling airport. Outside, waiting at the curb, Nick Fury himself stood before a sleek and shiny car that probably cost more than a 4-year education at an American university.

He smirked, "Welcome back, kid."

"Nice of you to pick me up, Nicky-Nick."

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call me 'kid'."

"Get in the Goddamn car, I'm not having this argument again."

After storing your luggage, Nick drove you back home while listening to your mission report. You didn't think the Flagsmashers were extreme enough to warrant intervention, but all Nick heard was that now was the time to strike before there came the need, before a chance for escalation could occur. You left the tablet full of notes, observations, photos, and data with the one-eyed man, and before you fully departed the car, paused to lean in the open window.

"Hey, uh, I've been meaning to thank you."

"What for?" Nick asked, face hardened in a permanent look of disagreement. You never took it personally - Nick Fury having professional Resting Bitch Face (RBF).

"Your advice about getting Bucky a dog."

"No shit," he chuckled, "you actually got him a dog?"

"Uh, well, no..."

"What'd you get?" Nick asked in suspicion, watching your lips roll between your teeth to restrain your smile. "Ah, hell no! You didn't! A cat? A fucking cat?"

"I know you don't like them - "

"Bitch! One scratched out my eye!"

"But our cat didn't."

"Doesn't matter - fuck all them felines."

You laughed and slapped the metal door, "Well, thank you anyway for the idea of a companion animal. Bucky's a lot calmer it seems."

Nick Fury sighed, waving you off like a pesky insect. "I'll call you when I got another job. Have fun with the little demon."

"You talkin' about Bucky or Alpine?"

"The cat - wait, Alpine? The fuck kinda name is that?"

"You know, Alpine... Like the Alps?"

His head shook, "I know what fuckin' alpine is."

"Why don't you head off - looks like you're gonna give yourself a stroke. Didn't realize getting a kitten would stress you out this bad."

"Get out my Goddamn window and I can leave."

You grinned and dropped a wink, again, patting the car and stepping back onto the sidewalk. Nick peeled off, leaving you alone to shoulder your duffel bag and head inside your apartment building. When you got to your desired location, the door opened without the usual creak, Bucky obviously WD-40'ing the hinges. "Hello?" You called softly, hanging your keys on the little peg in the foyer, toeing out of your shoes, glancing around the empty apartment.

Ready to call out again, you actually almost choked on air when you inhaled but stopped abruptly. You pouted your bottom lip at the sight of Bucky sound asleep in his nest on the floor, TV's lighting flashing and creating shadows, giving clear sight of Alpine curled in a tight ball on Buck's chest. His flesh hand was raised to rest on his chest, keeping Alpine cuddled to his warmth.

Quickly, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, snapping an adorable picture of your boyfriend before silently tiptoeing away to dispose of your duffel and purse. You sent the photo to Bucky's phone, positive you were keeping the kitten. After a long, hot shower that washed the travel from your body, you changed into loungewear, pulled your hair back, then reentered the living room where you knelt at Bucky's side. In-sync, your presence made both Alpine and Bucky flinch awake - your boyfriend jerking away from your warmth as the kitten hopped off his chest.

You winced, "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't mean to wake you."

His head shook, "No, it's all right, doll, I wasn't sleeping."

"You were, don't deny it," you grinned, settling on the mound of blankets.

Bucky chuckled gently, "I tried to stay up for you. C'mere," his arm opened in invitation, smirking gently. You settled down and turned into his side, his arm now coiled around your form, constricting to pull you closer so his lips could plant on your forehead. "How was London? Your mission?"

"Easy peasy," you sighed, "nothing too strenuous or stressful. The most 'complicated' part of the whole thing was using a different car each day to avoid suspicion."

"Hmm... Who was the target?"

"Some radical group," you sighed, head resting on his pectoral. "How was it? Just you and Alpine?"

"It was pretty good, nothing to complain about. She's nice company."

As if understanding she was the topic of conversation, Alpine mewed several times in a row as she walked up the seam of your body pressed to Bucky's. She turned in two circles before settling down between you; your grin authentic as a manicured fingernail extended to scratch her head.

"Actually, sweetheart, I've been thinking..."

"Hmm? About what?" You mumbled, eyes drooping with each passing second.

"About how we should keep her - Alpine, we should keep Alpine."

"You're just figuring that out now?" You teased, sluggishly lifting your head to smirk at him. "I knew she was ours the moment you picked her up. It'll be nice having her around, don't you think? I know she's not a dog you can take on walks but with Alpine, you don't have to be alone."

He nodded, "I like that idea. She's a good cat."

"Check your phone in the morning."

"Why?"

"Mmmh, I sent you a picture, you'll see - but it's just confirmation that Alpines part of us now, part of our crew."

"Our family," Bucky agreed softly. He watched you resettle on his chest, spending the following couple hours in the glow of the TV, watching you and Alpine. Bucky's heart warmed to a degree he's never known, making the comparison of himself to Jim Carrey's, the Grinch - a movie you made him watch. Eventually, exhaustion outweighed his domestic thoughts; falling asleep with you safe in his arms and Alpine curled up between you.

"Well, this certainly is a surprise... I was beginning to think James made you up."

"Oh, please, nobody could make me up - I'm too complex, nobody's got that kinda imagination," you smirked, legs crossed, seated beside Bucky on a sofa; both facing his therapist.

"I'm glad you could finally join us - I've been asking James to bring you for a while now," Dr. Raynor's eyes darted between you and Bucky, making you feel as if she was seeing right into your soul. However, her tone was accusatory, as if scolding Bucky.

So, you swiftly defended, "Well, I'm happy to be here. Bucky's one of my top priorities, I'd do anything for him - including attending any of these silly mandated sessions. Which are bullshit, by the way, because he's not the Winter Soldier anymore so why is Bucky being crucified? Why is this being pinned on him when he technically didn't do anything? The Winter Soldier did."

"Well, healing often takes time and dedication, and must be done in a series of steps. That's how you see real progress. These sessions are a condition of his pardon - "

"I can't believe your government would even enforce these silly little rules considering Bucky's assistance. He fought against Thanos, he fought on our side, and by all means, helped restore what was lost. I just find it pretty dehumanizing to force him to jump through hoops. I mean, for Christ's sake, half the universe was snapped away, you'd think after that, there wouldn't be need for pardons or contingencies - or for holding onto grudges."

"This is simply how we keep order in a post-Blip society. Everything changed in those five years, it's necessary to keep balance amongst all worldly citizens."

You scoffed lightly, "Ever consider these sessions might be doing more harm than good?"

Raynor frowned, "Despite the Winter Soldier being decommissioned, James still has trauma to process and skeletons to clear out of the closet. Yes, the Winter Soldier is gone, but the man remains - and James needs to focus on healing that part of himself. Whatever he did as the Winter Soldier wasn't Bucky's doing, but he still remembers all he did, which creates a heavy toll on the mind. That's part of the reason these sessions are mandated - because the assassin might be gone, but the residual effects still linger."

You hummed, "Well, let's get into it, Doc."

"You know... I've heard a lot about you. James paints you in a very bright light, says your bark and bite are equally as vicious."

"Hm," you nodded, brows perked, "yet I don't know shit about you."

"Perfectly natural. Typically, most people don't gossip about their therapists. It's nice that you could join us for this session."

"Nice to be invited."

She clicked her pen and settled her pad securely on her lap, just staring at you and Bucky for a long moment. You were ready to snap at her when she opened her mouth, "So, I hear you adopted a cat?"

"We did," you confirmed.

"Alpine," Bucky supplied, body rigid with tension and nerves.

"Right... Alpine," Raynor nodded, leaning her elbow to an arm of her padded chair. "How did this cat come into your possession?"

"We rescued her from a dumpster," Bucky answered stiffly.

"Really?" Raynor perked both brows.

"She was under some pieces of cardboard, screamin' her li'l head off," You chuckled. "Though, I think it's safe to say she chose us, adopted us as caregivers."

"How's that?"

"She wouldn't let us pick her up and we were afraid to take her in case her mama was lingering around. Turns out, she followed us. We were at a crosswalk when she caught up, demanding we pick her up and take her home."

"Is that so?"

"I'd like to think so," you nodded. "We were already on our way to the shelter, so, we took her with us, got her checked out."

"Why were you heading to the shelter to begin with?"

"Oh, uh, to adopt a dog. I had a colleague recommend an emotional support animal - or a companionship animal - to help Bucky feel less alone."

Raynor made a note of something. "You work often?" She asked.

"Often enough that I feel guilty for leaving. Figured getting a dog would instill a sense of dependence, you know, help Bucky feel like there was someone depending on him. Help usher in comfort and stability, help keep him calm, focused, distracted. But Alpine does the same thing - no dog necessary, apparently."

Raynor nodded, her wrinkles dimpling as she frowned and wrote down another note. When her eyes lifted, so did her lips; a smirk on display as she praised, "I actually think that's a wonderful idea. You know, there's been a lot of research about soldiers with PTSD benefitting from an emotional support animal. You're right, they promote peace, stability, distraction - gives patrons a tangible purpose, taking care of another life not their own."

"For sure, again, anything to help," you agreed, holding Bucky's gloved hand he kept covered by leather - only worn in public.

"Although, I wonder, why get a pet? I ask because James speaks highly of you, credits you for keeping him stable and on-track. Do you feel as if she's not enough, James? Is that why you kept Alpine?"

"No," he answered instantly, "she's my best girl and will always be enough. Watch your mouth, Doc."

"But sometimes extra help is nice," you tacked on, tightening your hand in Bucky's. "But for what it's worth, Dr. Raynor, Bucky keeps me sane. I keep him balanced. We keep each other safe. Alpine's just an added bonus, a quiet menace to help quell the business of our brains."

Raynor smirked, "I must say, you surprise me, Miss."

"I'm no stranger to mental health. But as I said before, I just want to help." You looked up at Bucky, finsihing softly, "He deserves peace in this lifetime - and if a little ball of fur can help, sign me up..."

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes hurt and comfort #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes fluff #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel fanfiction #tfaws

[pillow-princess-diaries]

𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚛!𝙰𝚝���𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜…

Scenario:- what it’s like to get your guts rearranged by a particular weretiger~

Pairing:- weretiger!Atsushi x gn!reader

Genre:- smut

Type:- headcanons

W/C:- a little over 1k

Tw:-MDNI !! mentions of cockwarming,mating press, full nelson?, oral (m and f giving and receiving),belly bulge, dry humping,deepthroating,tit sucking,nipple play, size kink?69, cum eating ,leash? ,atsushi is in heat and turns into his weretiger form. Also where genetalia are related both male and female alternatives are included!

A/N :- Hi there!! My Name’s cheese and this is my first smut fic!!! I hope you like it and I tagged it appropriately! Also just to clarify, this isn’t canon atsushi but like its supposed to be a more tiger-boy-esque version? But his weretiger form is pretty much the same as in the canon?? Idk if I’m making sense but I hope I am!

Also thanks to @diagonal-queen and @chuuyassluttychoker for giving me feedback and for encouraging me to try writing for this genre!

Weretiger atsushi who is adorable and clingy and so catlike on the daily. He loves rubbing up against you, headbutting you and nuzzling you because it gets his scent on you and marks you as his to all the cats in the area.

Weretiger atsushi who gets even clingier during his heat cycles but doest tell you he’s in heat ,when asked about it he just says he missed you. “But atsushi i was here the entire time?” “But you weren’t in my arms~”

Weretiger atsushi who gets caught humping your pillow as he moans out your name,his hips craving for some kind of contact,his dick painfully hard.

weretiger atsushi who vehemently denies that he was humping your pillow.he would neverrrr.but the moment you look down at his crotch you notice the little tent that has formed.

Weretiger Atsushi,who goes red as you palm his boner through his clothes,your fingers tantalizingly tracing its outline.

Weretiger atsushi who admits to your allegations and begs that you let him fuck you.He looks at your hand basically petting his clothed cock and ask him to get on his knees and beg harder~

Weretiger atsushi who gets embarrassed and goes red but the moment you move your fingers over the now-wet material of his pants he throws his ego to the side,getting on his knees and begging you to let him have his sweet release he looks up at you and bows down touching the ground.

Weretiger atsushi who once you agree to let him fuck you,throws you over his shoulder and rushes to your bedroom.

Weretiger atsushi who throws you on the bed (not hard enough to hurt you!) and frantically strips till he’s fully naked and climbs on top of you.

Weretiger atsushi whose dick has gotten bigger now that he’s in his weretiger form,and is now leaking so much precum it’s embarrassing.

Weretiger atsushi who asks you for permission to take control and once he receives a breathy ‘yes’ literally rips off your clothes and has to keep his mouth from watering as he see your wet little cunt./cock

Weretiger atsushi who runs a singular clawed finger along your folds,gently collecting as much of you’re arousal as he can and licking it off his fingers,savouring your taste (alternatively he’ll pump your little erection until your cream covers his hands,and then he’ll eat it out if the palms of his hands like its the sweetest syrup known to mankindd)

Weretiger atsushi who goes feral as he lowers himself to be at eye level with your pretty little pussy/cock. Who eats you out like he’s been starving for dayssss,his ridged tongue moving softly enough not to hurt you and just enough to make you feel more things than a ribbed condom ever could,sucking on your clit like its a goddam lollipop (Alternatively he’ll wrap his mouth around your length taking it all in and sucking. Bobbing his head as he laps up your cum and precum and runs his tongue along your slit,kissing your tip before he finishes)

Weretiger atsushi who makes you come on his tongue at least two times before he actually fucks you,who wants to milk you for all your worth.

Weretiger atsushi who finally raised himself from your pussy/dick to look at your face,pure pleasure being the only thing he sees.

Weretiger atsushi who finally lines himself up with your pretty little hole, his cock begging to be squeezed by your walls and coated in your cum.

Weretiger atsushi who fucks you in missionary just because he wants to see your adorable face contort in pleasure, moaning,screaming and calling his name.

Weretiger atsushi who despite always going slow and sweet,lubes up his cock and slams into you so hard the bed hits the wall. He waits a while,buried to the hilt as he feels you adjusting to his throbbing length . The feeling of your walls hugging him driving him insanee.

Weretiger atsushi who cums right into you just from that and locks you in a mating press,his balls slapping against your ass as he moves at an inhuman speed.

Weretiger atsushi who fucks you so hard your bed creaks and hits the wall,leaving a small indentation on where the headboard hit it over and over.

Weretiger atsushi who lets you collar him and pull him closer by a leash to kiss you while he fuck you senseless.

Weretiger atsushi who leaves beautiful love bites and hickies all across your chest and collar bones. Who loves marking you up and claiming you as his.

Weretiger atsushi who loves your tits no matter the size,he just loves them. Sucking on them while he ruts into you,watching as they bounce while he fucks you so good you wont be able to walk for days.who loves squeezing your hardened nipples to hear you moan out in both pain and pleasure.

Weretiger atsushi who’s claws leave big blue bruises and shallow claw marks along your hips,who loves to see your juices decorate your tummy and his base when you squirt or when he cums on your stomach.

Weretiger atsushi who loves running his tongue up and down your stomach to collect all his spilled semen and your messy little syrup,who puts his tongue out to show you how he’s taking yours and his loads in like the good little kitten he is.

Weretiger atsushi who loves when you suck him off,who wouldn't mind 69ing if it meant he could feel your mouth around his dick while he feasted on you. Who loves deepthroating you and hearing you gag on his larger-than-usual cock. Who cums down your throat and loves to feel the vibrations of the moans you let out as his hot,sticky cum fills your mouth and flows down your throat. Who thrusts his hips into your mouth and directs your head perfectly ,although he doesn’t even have to because you already know how to pleasure him so well.

Weretiger atsushi who would love the sight of you bouncing on his cock,riding him like the speedy steed he could be,who bucks his hips up into you when you slow down,eliciting a moan from you as feel him hit his your cervix/ g spot.

Weretiger atsushi who places a hand on your tummy just to feel his cock inside you(it drives him crazy.)

Weretiger atsushi who is strong enough to hold you off the ground and fuck you(i think it’s called full nelson?) who goes even more feral when he sees drops of his milky load fall out onto the floor which prompts him to fuck you harder.

and finally weretiger atsushi who goes so nuts at the thought of you filled to the brim with his cum that when he’s cleaning you up,he detransforms and fucks his cum deeper into you with his lithe fingers,making sure to hit a few of your sweet-spots just to make you feel good.

and weretiger atsushi who takes such good care of you after he’s done. Giving you a bath,making sure you take your birth control pills and who holds you close as you both fall asleep afterwards. He may ask for you to cockwarm him as a joke but if youre fully serious about it and actually want to do it,he certainly wouldnt be against it.

Weretiger atsushi who’s your sweet and loving tiger boy who can get a little wild but its finee,it’s not like you dont like it so whats the harm in indulging him~(and yourself)

Taglist (open) :- @diagonal-queen

All rights reserved © 2023 pillow-princess-diaries. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours.Reblogs and Comments Greatly Appreciated!

#🧀 Tales #bsd x reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi x y/n #atsushi x you #atsushi smut #bsd smut #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs atsushi #bsd atsushi #atsushi nakajima #atsushi headcanons #bsd headcanons #bsd hcs #bsd x you #bsd x male reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n

[fitzells]

okay so, i can explain!! it’s 1 am and i completely read this incorrectly, so it’s about the reader finding a picture of herself in his wallet because i’m an idiot! i was going to scrap it but i am just proud of myself for actually completing a blurb without giving up

so, i will be writing the actual request tomorrow because it’s so cute and adorable and makes a lot more sense than this and i can’t WAIT write it because 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 so fluffy man 🫶 but until then, enjoy this piece of work i am writing while very woozy on strong pain meds that ultimately makes zero sense! (posting this on mobile too because my dedication the craft is not enough for me to look for my laptop charger soz queens xxx)

“Have you seen my purse anywhere, Roos?” Your eyes dart around the living room, trying to retrace your steps.

“No, why d’you need it?” He shakes his head, glancing over at you from where he had collapsed on the couch.

“Uh, I need to go to the grocery store. I think a 6”1, 200 pound Navy fighter pilot raided my refrigerator.” You quip, smiling snarkily at the man in question. He grins as his eyes scan over your form, letting out a little appreciative hum.

You’re wearing that pretty little sun dress that drives him crazy, and he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the way it accentuates the curve of your ass as you get on all fours on the floor, leaning down to check for your purse under the couch. You wouldn’t be surprised where it ended up, Bradley had an annoying tendency to just kick things on the floor out of his path; especially if he had been making a bee line for the couch, then he definitely wouldn’t pause to pick it up.

“What are you humming at, perv?” You question as you stand back up, rounding the couch so you were standing behind it, eyes once again scanning the room for the missing purse as you let out an aggravated scoff.

He laughs vehemently, his head tilting back against the back of the couch until he’s peering up at you from where you stand behind him. “Oh, just my breathtakingly beautiful wife.”

You scoff, a manicured hand coming down to absentmindedly play with his mess of curls as you tried to track down your purse. This will bug her all day, Rooster thought to himself, as he watched you scan the entire room over and over again.

“Wife?” You grinned. “Did I miss the wedding?”

He laughs again, your witticisms humouring him greatly, grabbing the hand knotted into his hair and bringing it down to his lips, pressing a kiss to the soft skin just below where your pretty engagement ring lay on your finger.

“Formalities, honey.” He tuts, and another hum slips from his lips as you bend down to press a soft kiss to his rosy lips. His mustache tickles your chin, your kiss slightly awkward, seeing as your face was leaning over his slightly uncomfortably.

His arm reaches up, hand knotting into your hair to keep you close to him as his soft lips work against your even softer ones. Your nose brushes against his chin as you reluctantly pull away, the ache in your lower back growing more and more every second you keep yourself in the awkward position.

You wipe at your mouth, giggling as you bring your thumb down to wipe at his chin. “You got a little gloss…. everywhere, Roos.”

He chuckles, wiping at his skin. “You can bring my credit card, if you want. I think it’s in my jacket pocket. I’ll look for your purse when you’re gone.”

You hum, annoyed at the fact your purse was still missing, but thankful for your fiancés generous nature. You squeeze at his muscular shoulder, before you’re walking into the hall to grab the wallet out of his coat pocket. “Thanks, baby; you’re a godsend. I’ll transfer you the money later.”

He sends you an incredulous look once you come back into the living room. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Pretty sure it’s my turn to go grocery shopping anyway, you need to stop doing my share of the chores for me.”

You chuckle, gasping dramatically before you open up his worn, leather wallet to grab his card. “What? And have my big strong fighter pilot fiancé be burdened with tedious household tasks that should be for civilians only? I would never!”

He shakes his head, having grown accustomed to your sarcastic remarks throughout your relationship, and anyway, you both know that he’s undoubtedly going to be the one making dinner and doing the dishes tonight.

“By the way, I feel like we should address the fact you’re totally sugar daddying me right now? I know it’s only groceries, but it’s still kind of hot.” You chide.

He mumbles something about how you have serious issues, and you're about to shoot him a quippy remark in response, until your breath gets stuck in your throat. Stowed away in the transparent pocket on the left hand side of his wallet, are two small pictures. One of his mum and dad, smiling happily at the camera; and another one of you.

You didn’t even know he’d taken the picture; you were on the beach, in the middle of laughing, probably at something he’d said, eyes looking over the camera, filled with nothing but love; so you were definitely staring at him. The picture had been folded at the edges so it would fit snugly into the pocket. Your heart melts, looking up from the wallet to stare at your fiancé.

He could feel your eyes on him, but his eyes didn’t move from the television; not thinking much of your gaze. “If you found the picture of me and my second family, I can explain.”

You don’t even laugh at his joke. You just clamber onto the sofa, your legs either side of his lap as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in tight to you. Ultimately, you don’t really know why you’re so touched by the picture. You’re engaged, it’s not overly unique to have a picture of your fiancée in your wallet. However, when you saw the photo, you just couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of being totally completely adored and cherished by the love of your life. You felt so much love for the man, while you also felt incredibly loved by the man. “Hey, what’s all this about; you okay, baby?”

You nod, cupping his face into your hands as you shoot him one of the prettiest smiles he’s ever seen. “I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

He nods, a bemused grin painting his face as he laughs. He is completely lost, unsure of where this all came from, but he graciously accepts it anyway. “I know, honey. I love you too.”

#rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw blurb

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Influencer Island

Isn't this generation the worst! My family's resort used to be a peaceful retreat, but now it's crawling with whiney influencers who spend their time staring at their phones and ignoring our service. All of them are rude and obnoxious to the staff, but I have a new plan for every entitled brat I find.

"Hey you!" a snide call comes my direction.

He's lean, muscular, and emerging from the tropical shrubbery of the hotel's expansive gardens. The guy is clearly a fitness YouTuber, and he's just returned from a sweaty jog. His body seems to be the only thing on his mind, because he flaunts it in front of me without even glancing in my direction.

"Grab me a towel," he insists and brushes past, "This place is humid as hell."

A bored look sits on his face as he begins routinely stretching the toned legs inside those tiny shorts. The guy actually scoffs and looks offended when he realizes I haven't raced off to fetch his towel. It's the first time he's actually looking in my direction, and I can practically feel the sense of entitlement dripping off of him.

"Dude, I want a towel. The air on your island is wet and gross," he slowly repeats, like I must be an idiot who can't understand.

"Shut up about the humidity, Carlos!" my anger gets the best of me, but I finally put my diabolical plan in place.

"Who the hell is Carlos?"

For the first time, the influencer's smug face flashes to one of confusion. He doesn't believe someone like me would talk to him like this, let alone call him the wrong name.

"Carlos is the new gardner," I explain in a spiteful voice, "He's hard-working, he's humble, and he isn't bothered by the wet muggy air one bit!"

The athletic social media star looks completely taken aback now. He's retreated from my barrage of words, but there's no escaping the transformation he's already undergoing.

His revealing shorts rapidly unfold into a more coarse material that extends over his shoulders, forming a baggy pair of working overalls. Our hotel staff polo pops up beneath the straps of his workwear and leather gloves appear on his hands.

"How...?" he quietly gasps, "What am I wearing?"

"Carlos isn't very smart, but he makes up for it by shutting up and working hard. Don't you, Carlos?" I continue, "You spend all day in this disgustingly humid air, trimming bushes, pulling weeds, and manicuring the shit out of this garden. It's the only thing you're really good for. Isn't that right, Carlos?"

"Yeah," the former jock answers numbly.

A name tag appears over his chest, sealing his identity as Carlos the gardner. His face ages and takes on the character of a Hispanic local. His once youthfully lean body expands outward, filling his new uniform with a layer of fatherly pudge. This guy looks like he's spent his entire life working on this island. I know he'll spend the rest of it here too.

"Get back to work, Carlos, and don't let me catch you taking a break again," I say.

"Yes, Señor," he answers humbly, turning to a wheelbarrow full of mulch right beside him.

I watch sweat glisten on Carlos' forehead as he dumps the wood chips and rakes them around the plants. I note the damp air already permeating his heavy uniform before leaving and stepping inside the hotel lobby.

The interior of my family's hotel is quite grand and luxurious, but it's Mediterranean architecture creates an atmosphere of culture and class. Unfortunately, not many of my younger guests have the same culture and class. Approaching the front desk, I find a handsome young man in a vehement debate with the concierge. Apparently, his room was not up to his standards.

"Do you know who I am?" he asks tersely.

"I have 300k followers on TickTock! Everyone sees my travel vlog, so don't piss me off," he demands loudly.

My employee working the front desk looks overwhelmed and exhausted. Guests should never verbally assault my staff. This guy needs to learn how to behave at my hotel.

"So you're the famous influencer!" I jump to the defense before voices are raised any further, "We of course prepared a premier experience for you and your followers."

The entitled TickTocker's eyes roll but he seems relieved that somebody is finally treating him as he believes he deserves. I send a comforting wink to the concierge before gracefully escorting the rude guest away from the front.

"About time," he clicks his tongue, "That bellboy could barely speak English. You'd think a supposed luxury resort would be a bit more accommodating."

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir. How may we be of service to you?"

"Well to start, my room faces the forest. I booked one with a view of the ocean," he explains, missing my blatant sarcasm.

I'm done playing around.

"Come on, Jose. You don't care about looking out windows," I correct him, "Just cleaning them."

The young man stares back at me like he's just been insulted. He can't believe I have the audacity to call him by the wrong name.

"I'm not Jose," he snaps.

"Sure you are," I go on, "You're the Jose I've always known. The Jose that keeps his head down and gets his work done. The Jose that is quiet and respectful with the guests."

"That's not me," he growls, frustratedly denying it.

"I know there's a bit of a language barrier, Jose, but come on. Just look at yourself!"

The influencer narrows his eyes before nervously glancing down. As he does, his crisp white shirt fades to an old blue color. The buttons latch themselves all the way up to the base of his neck as the shirt tail stitches itself seamlessly with his pants of a now identically worn material.

"What I have on!" he gasps with an awkward inflection.

"Jose, it's your uniform," I laugh, "You're the hotel janitor! You wear coveralls, buddy."

"Estoy el janitor?" he questions with a heavy new accent, but his mind is already accepting the new role.

His eyes glazed over as he pulls out a pair of rubber gloves from his back pocket. He slips them on like it's second nature, and a uniform cap appears on his head of dark hair. The final touch of a name tag reading 'Jose' slides over the breast of his coveralls, cementing the reality of his new life.

"Jose," I say slowly.

"Sí, jefe?" he seems to snap out of an idle daze.

"You know your not supposed to loiter in the lobby unless you are cleaning."

"Lo siento, señor."

Jose fishes a rag and spray bottle out of his pocket to act busy wiping down different surfaces in the lobby. He keeps casting nervous glances in my direction as I supervise his work.

"Jose."

"Sí," he returns to my side like an eager puppy.

"The staff bathroom has a clog in it. Take care of that and the rest of the staff area. You can clean the lobby tonight when guests aren't here," I instruct.

"Por supuesto, jefe," he nods and shuffles through a staff-only door to the rear of the building.

Thank God I took that pretentious jerk down a peg. Thanks to me, the hotel has one less raving social media nut and one more quietly dedicated janitor. He'll certainly help clean up after all the other careless youths who make a mess everywhere they go.

Patting myself on the back for a job well done, I leave the lobby and head deeper into the building and towards the kitchens.

"Excuse me?" a wandering voice calls from down a hall.

An exasperated sigh blows out of my nostrils. Am I really about to deal with another entitled young man again?

"You shouldn't be down here, sir," I explain impatiently, "This is a staff-only area."

"Oh, I know," he throws his hands up in mock surrender, "My family owns a hotel back home, so I just like to check out the behind-the-scenes when I travel different places."

"Well, then you know hotel staff could use less distractions in their work space," I retort.

The young man doesn't seem to understand my frustration. He throws his hands in his pockets and slumps his shoulders.

"I just like to see how the employers of hotels treat their employees," he defends himself, "Especially in a place like this."

"What do you mean a place like this?"

"You know," he continues, "Foreign countries don't have all the protections for the working class that America has. I wouldn't be surprised if this hotel took advantage of the natives."

"You think I take advantage of the people from this island?" I shake my head in utter disbelief.

"Well, maybe," he goes on, "I write a blog about-"

"Let me stop you there," I cut him off, "You know I don't take advantage of the locals because you are one, Pedro."

"I'm not Pedro. Does he work here?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Yup. Pedro started working down here about four years ago. He was so excited to get a decently paying job," I explain, "He reminds me of yourself, only he keeps his hair neat and trim, the way a good employee should."

The young man seems interested in my story but doesn't seem to realize it's about him. His oversized Hawaiian shirt slowly tightens into a fitted jumpsuit while thin gloves glide over his hands. Meanwhile, his wildly long hair shrinks into a head of neatly cropped black curls.

"Pedro doesn't leave the basement too often, but he doesn't mind because he is so excited to finally have a consistent source of income. His bedroom is right around that corner, actually."

"Really," the guy asks dreamily, completely unaware of the uniform cap that's dropped over his new haircut.

"You're Pedro."

"I'm Pedro," he agrees without resistance, and a name tag materializes over his yellow coveralls, finalizing his transformation.

"Pedro," I say, "I know it's nice to catch up, buddy, but don't you have a lot of work to do?"

Pedro glances down the hall towards the laundry room. "Your right, sir," he responds with a new accent.

"A lot of guests arrived today, and I heard quite a few of them put in requests for clothes to be laundered and pressed."

"I'm on it, sir," he assures me.

My newest employee races to find an empty laundry hamper and starts rolling it down the hallway. The idiot is rolling the laundry bin towards the guest elevators in the front of the building.

"Come on, Pedro!" I call.

"Yeah, sir?"

"Son, use the service elevator in the back," I remind him, "The front ones are for guests. You know that."

"Right! Sorry, sir," he shakes his head and turns around, lugging the hamper in the opposite direction.

Pedro climbs on the old elevator and hits the button. Rusted machinery groans to life, pulling the laundry boy and his hamper slowly up to the top floor.

I take a seat and rest in the service corridor. It's been a long day of transforming insufferable influencers into good employees. Their absence will no doubt improve the atmosphere of my hotel greatly, but I may need to consider expanding the business if I keep taking on so many new workers...

#gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay mind control #male transformation #servant #hypnotized #gay ai art #mind control

[joaofelix70]

69 WITH JOÃO FÉLIX | a concept.

author's note: first of all, thank you for reading this and my first story that was boycotted by his ex's fans, lmao (i know joão's flopping here, actually) 💀

many people are not writing for him anymore and that's why i'm doing justice to him, so you're welcome, lol. please, tell me what you think about this work, polite feedbacks are VERY appreciated. i get inspired in the morning and wrote it kinda quickly. really random, but i need to say how obsessed i am with joão being religious, like this gif shows. the way he's crossing himself, kissing his hand and pointing to the sky 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I'M CRYING, SOBBING ON MY KNEES AND BEGGING HIM TO HAVE A RELIGIOUS FAMILY WITH ME. also, my requests are open. i'm waiting for you to talk to me there <3

warnings: self-explanatory sex position. +18 content. smut, nsfw without context. plus, he's also fingering you here (our dream 😭).

words: 461.

"holy shit, what a good pussy. i missed it, princesa (princess). i missed you!" his fingerprints wrap in your midst of the hot, overflowing fountain: causing an insatiable thirst, to which no other substance would be able to succumb.

"i always need you so badly, gatinho (handsome). i fucking belong to you!" your whimpers exude despair in the name of pleasure, making joão laugh and his ego to inflate.

"of course you do! all this shit, all this is only mine. fuck, i'm such a lucky guy." your walls tighten and compress his beautiful bones, sending sinful sensations to his area of hardness and dampness. then, you're empty. his tongue curls around his fingers, appetizing you.

"so fucking delicious!" wet kisses are deposited on your neck and boobs: delighting his face on each, vehemently sucking and biting them.

"use my body to show it, joão. i'm yours!" your hands involve around the structure of his cock, lips swallowing the resplendent pre-cum from the head and witnessing it run down your chin. stroking and tasting the testicles, you lift your mouth and enter every inch of it into your throat, scratching his toned tights. your hair is pulled by félix and your head guided to have him deeper, completely.

"yeah! just like that! be the good and grateful girl that you are. i'm so proud of you, princesa." joão's destabilized, moaning in portuguese, echoing your name with his beautiful accent, while eyes are closed. however, he doesn't stop. his saliva spread throughout the shape of your torso, hickeys pigmenting the place below where you're most begging to be touched. his mouth explores your intimacy, painting formats and drawings, like you're his work of art: his nose rubbing your clit and offering continual instigations, the tip of his tongue persistently granting the beg leave in the entrance. so he persists, controlling your greedy movements against his face: firm pressure on your waist.

"let me know when you're close, ok? wanna take care of you!" félix grabs your ass, flattening and reddening your skin. tears are shed over your flushed face, your voice weakened after so many verbal liberations. you hold his dilating dick and slap it on your cheek, teasing it through licks and your light, sensitive touch.

"tell me how much you love me, gatinho. i deserve this for being your good girl who is about to cum on your face." you testify his acts getting intensified: ecstasy, along with sexual spasms, protruding from joão. his head goes back and, at this point, he's worshiping you. you're his religion.

"i fucking love you, y/n. gonna cum in your precious mouth and throat!"

"that's my man who i fucking love! please, come for me and i'll do the same for you!"

#joao felix #joão félix #joao felix x reader #joao felix x y/n #joao felix x you #joao felix smut #joao felix fluff #joao felix angst #joão félix x reader #joão félix x y/n #joão félix x you #joão félix smut #joão félix angst #joão félix fluff #joao felix blurb #joao felix drabble #joao felix one shot #joão félix blurb #joão félix drabble #joão félix one shot #football #la liga #premier league #footballer #football x reader #football one shots #football fanfic #headcanons #headcanon #🎧 ࿐ aléxia's works!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not trying to get my foster cats adopted?

So for some background, I (21 m) have worked at a cat rescue for a while. We’re pretty small and thus Always in need of fosters. I was hesitant to foster for a few practical reasons even though I’ve really missed living with cats, but then we found my two fosters. They were kittens, and really antisocial-so much so that my boss even thought they were feral at first. From the jump I had hope for them, and slowly worked with them at work until they (begrudgingly) let us handle them. Over a month went by and we still hadn’t found a foster for them, so finally i volunteered to take them home and set everything up for them.

Since then, they’ve made a LOT of progress-playing with me, letting me pet them, cuddling in bed with me at night, etc. they’re even getting better with other people, and definitely have a better chance of being able to meet potential adopters and adjust to new people and a new home. Problem is, I’ve gotten pretty attached. Especially because i was going through a REALLY difficult time just after i started fostering them, and taking care of them and helping them grow was one of the only things that kept me going. I’m also worried that after bonding with me they’ll be scared and re-traumatized being suddenly moved into a new home with new people. They feel like children to me.

If I could adopt them right now, I would-but there are 2 material problems. First is that I’m still living at home, and my mom agreed to let me foster but is Vehemently against the idea of me having my own cat. I’m planning to move out this year so this is temporary, but it will be at least 6-8 months until I’m settled in my own place (which I already know I’ll be able to have cats in). Second is that my current job is my only job, and it doesn’t pay enough or give me enough hours that I can cover vet costs on my own. Food and litter and other expenses are fine, but my job covers the vet care as long as I’m fostering and wouldn’t once I adopt. Again, temporary as I’m looking for a second job anyway, but I’m not sure when I’ll actually Have one and don’t want to adopt until I’m certain I can provide for them. It isn’t completely accurate to say I’m not trying at All to get them adopted-I put some great pictures of them on our website and wrote their bios myself, and I post about them on my socials all the time (which fosters are encouraged to do), but I know I could be doing more to promote them. I also selfishly am glad that they have as many issues as they do (being really nervous with new people + they have a Big problem with scent marking in new environments) because I know that when adopters do come to meet them I can bring up these issues and they’ll be less likely to go through with it-I’m not trying to actively dissuade anyone, but I am reluctant to let them go and hoping they’ll stay with me until I can adopt them, which is definitely incentivizing me to do less than I could. I take good care of them but I’m still a little worried that I’m the AH here if my reluctance is playing a part in preventing them from going home with someone who will have more money and more physical space for them right Now and who is already settled and ready to adopt a pet.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[sleepershell]

Date with Destiny

pairing fox mulder x skinner!gn!reader

word count 1022

synopsis You, the younger sister of Walter Skinner, have finally landed a date with the man whose work you’ve long-admired.

content fluff, funny, sweet, mentions of sex and pornography, reader has a personality

You were nervous. Definitely, you were nervous. As you approached the bar your fight or flight response kicked in. You’d been following his work for years, both fascinated and intimidated by the man who you were sure would be the one to uncover the truth. What the truth was, you’d never been entirely sure, but his sureness about some things was admirable. And attractive. Though not as attractive as his dark eyes, square jaw, and easy smile. You’d been hoping for a date with him for a while but Walter had made it difficult. Honestly, it was unclear who he was protecting from whom between his baby sister and his most beloved agent.

He was standing by the door waiting for you, looking down the street in the wrong direction. You couldn’t help but take notice of his posture. It seemed he was actually nervous. An entire swarm of butterflies fluttered inside your stomach. Or maybe it was an ulcer. Either way, you wanted to be sick. And as you closed the distance, he turned, catching a glimpse of you. You watched as his blank face washed with recognition and then a grin.

“(y/n) Skinner!”

“Agent Mulder.” You bit your bottom lip, unsure how to proceed. You’d been the one to ask him out but that was a courageous anomaly. When you’d gone in to bring Walter a birthday gift you’d finally seen Mulder in the flesh. He’d stepped into the same elevator, and you weren’t about to let the opportunity go. After years of begging your brother to introduce the two of you, he was finally in your grasp. So you’d let the question leave you before thinking better of it.

Wordlessly, Mulder propped open the door for you to enter in front of him. It was crowded and noisy inside. Relief washed through you, and you patted yourself on the back for choosing that sort of place; busy enough that you could feel invisible. The two of you grabbed beers from the bar and sat at a booth near the back. The table was sticky. Seated, you knew you had to say something, though you felt mute.

“Tell me something about yourself!” You blurted. Jesus, It sounded like an order.

“Something about myself.”

You nodded. “A fun fact.”

He gave you a conspiratorial look, leaning forward so you, too, leaned in. His green eyes wide, he whispered, “I’m red-green colorblind.”

You giggled into the mouth of your beer.

“Your turn.” His eye contact could kill. He held your gaze even when you wanted to break away. It’s like he was allergic to shame or something. But being around him made you bolder, too. He lifted his bottle to his lips.

“I have a crippling addiction to pornography.” Help choked on his drink. Leaned back, the reaction was fun to see. There were no napkins at the table, he used the sleeve of his coat to wipe his chin like a little kid.

“Why haven’t we met before?”

“My brother.”

“It still amazes me to think that man has a family. I used to imagine him going home and sleeping in a pod or something.”

“He does that, too.” Mulder chuckled at that, and you felt a warmth open up in your chest. It felt good to make him laugh. More so than just as validation from someone you admired, but because his laugh felt like late night board games. “Agent Mulder-”

“Just Mulder is fine.”

“Alright Mulder, at the risk of revealing my hand too early, I’ve been following your work for some time.” You began to peel at the edge of your beer bottle’s label with the nails you’d freshly painted a deep burgundy. “I’ve asked Walter to introduce us many times and he has always declined. Vehemently.”

“Vehemently.”

“I don’t know which of us he thinks will hurt the other more.”

“Am I in danger?” He smirked.

“Very much so.” You finished your beer with a final long swig.

“Refill?” You nodded, watching him the entire way as he approached the bar and leaned easily against the counter. As he waited, he plunged his hands into a shallow bowl of nuts, popping them into his mouth one-by-one. There was a woman down the counter from him, obviously staring at Mr tall, dark, and handsome but he never once looked her way. He nodded when the bartender slid the beers to him. When he returned, it seemed he’d overcome any nerves he might’ve been harboring.

“I’m sorry, I think we glazed over something back there. You follow my work?”

You nodded. “The things that get published, that is.”

There was a glint in his eye. “I didn’t think much of it did.”

“I may have also convinced my brother to share some things with me.” You lifted a finger to your lips, a silent shh.

“Any thoughts?” The blood being pumped from your heart was actually fire blazing through your veins. Fox Mulder was looking at you. He was looking at you like he could undress you with his eyes.

“If I tell you how brilliant I think you are, I won’t stand a chance with you.”

“I can’t fathom a reality in which that could be the case.” You shrugged and, when it was clear you wouldn’t say anything more, he continued. “What do you do?”

“I’m a writer. Science fiction.”

He threw his head back and let out one huge laugh. “You’re something.” It came out soft, like he meant it.

“Well, from one expert to another, I have a question:” He leaned in, resting his elbows on the table, and you did the same. “Which cryptid would you have sex with?”

Without a moment of hesitation, “Fresno Nightcrawler. You?”

“Mothman. Have you seen those dreamy eyes?”

You liked the way he looked at you—satisfied and challenged at the same time. Like you were a welcome surprise. Or a riddle. It was a great effort not to reach across the expanse between the two of you and brush your thumb against his chin. He was everything you’d hoped.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

xx

#fox mulder x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #fox mulder #x files #💤🦪 #🛸 #friends to lovers #first date

[leo-interactive-fiction]

What would happen if Mc baked their LI a cake as a birthday surprise, but it turned out to be the foulest cake out there because MC just sucks at cooking

Haha let's see...

----

At E takes a bite of the cake, their face phases through several expressions before settling with a forced smile, "I-It's, uh..."

You're excitement slowly fades, "Is it...not good?"

"N-No, no! It's good! Er...great? Y-Yeah?"

You look incredulous, "Why does it sound like a question?"

E shakes their head vehemently, "I-I was just surprised! I love it! Really! I-It's...the best cake...because you made it for me..."

E begins shoveling the near inedible slice of cake into their mouth. It made you happy in the moment, even if you could hear them puking up their food poisoning an hour later.

-----

"You baked me a cake?" R's eyes widen in surprise, "You didn't have to do all that. My birthday isn't...that...uh..." Rs voice slowly tapers off as they see you bringing over the 'cake'.

It looks like someone mixed the cake batter with bits of gravel and threw in a pipe bomb during the baking process for good measure. You somehow managed to sear the top into a black charcoal while keeping the bottom a doughy undercooked lump.

R's voice sounds almost apologetic and pleading, "You really didn't have to...I don't deserve this..."

------

L looks down at their plate for a long while, eventually finding their voice after a moment of contemplation, "Um...uh...I-I am not too familiar with the culinary practices, but, well, is it...supposed to look like this?"

"Like what? It looks like cake, right?" You say with complete confidence.

L looks nearly perturbed as they return their eyes back down at the food, "O-Oh, this is cake? W-Well, yes, I suppose I can see a...resemblance...somewhere...a little?" They would feel too bad telling you that they thought it was a completely different dish entirely.

-------

V has to take a slight pause as they taste the food, the fork still stuck in their mouth for a moment before they reach for another bite.

"...it's good."

"Really?!" You celebrate, happy that you finally made a good cake. It's true that V enjoys the taste, but your excitement clouds you from the reality that relying on the opinion of someone that eats grass mulch and bugs isn't the best decision for your culinary development.

It doesn't stop you from savoring the victory now, though.

------

P knows better than to judge something before they taste it. That being said, once they taste the 'cake', it immediately becomes 'garbage' as they toss the entire tray in the can, along with the dishes and any utensils you used to make it. They've become angry enough that they've popped something and doubled back to being calm.

"I've never seen this in my fucking life...How the fuck did you manage to undercook and overcook batter? I am genuinely impressed at the level of stupid you managed to show me today. You're actually the first person I've ever thought to say this to, but I really wish you could've been born smarter so you could realize and contemplate how extraordinary of a fuck up you made."

---------

M takes a small, tentative bite of the abomination before quickly spitting it out. As you're about to take your own bite, M's hand darts across the table to stop you. It's the fastest you've ever seen M move, and you could barely even register the blur before M's hand knocks the fork out of your hand and across the room.

They slowly recede back into their seat, dabbing their mouth with a napkin and giving you a gentle smile, "It's...not...good..."

"O-Oh...you could've just said that instead..."

"You were...in danger...so I...got a little...scared..."

You look down guiltily, "H-Hey, come on, it couldn't have been that serious..."

"It's...very...not...good..." M emphasizes.

--------

Raven stares at the cake for a moment before digging in happily. You look down at them expectantly as they wolf down the food.

"Is it good?"

"No!" Raven replies honestly, giving you a bright, wide smile, "But...that's alright! Because I treasure everything you give to me..."

Your expression drops into a guilty one, "You don't have to keep eating if it's bad..."

"It's really bad! I can't lie to you about it...but you wanted me to enjoy it, didn't you? So I'll enjoy it even if it's bad, because I can enjoy anything if I know it makes you happy..." Raven continues eating the cake despite the flavor, a wide smile plastered on their face as they seem genuinely contented in their choices.

------

S takes a small bite of the cake before their entire body revolts and rejects it, spasming in its attempt to spit it back onto the place and throw the plate away.

They take a moment of silence to recollect themselves before facing you, "Hey, so uh...sorry 'bout this, but I don't think ya should be doin' the whole...cookin' thing. Did you uh...make anything else for today? No?"

There's a visible sigh of relief throughout S's entire body, and you think you can see them thanking some divine for their benevolence. They quickly return to their cheery self.

"Well, now that we got that out of the way, let's make sure no one else eats...Oh, shit, no! Everyone already took a slice!

--------

F's nose upturns in clear disgust when you present the slice of cake to them.

"...Are you insulting me?"

"I-It's your birthday cake..." you murmur.

"Yes, I very well understand what it is attempting to represent..."

You glance away, slightly insulted, "You could at least taste it first...

F prods the inedible mass with their fork before collecting a bite and holding it up to you with a menacing smile, "You are confident enough in your own creation, yes? You will not be leaving until you clean both my plate and your own... and afterward, you can tell me all about how it tastes. I will take your word..."

-----

Thank you for the ask haha, I enjoyed it

#triaina academy #romance options #birthday cake

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Feeling Some Kind of Way after yesterday's chapter, and here's why:

I've said before (I don't know if on Tumblr or Twitter or just DMs or where, but I have said it for a while now), that I was actually glad that YuuMori never even joked about how gay Sherliam are, even though they've had tons of opportunities to, because then they'd have to react to it and dismiss it most likely. And I didn't want them to no homo it with a damn joke.

And then yesterday they made the joke.

And they didn't no homo it.

Sherlock made a sort of frustrated expression in a wobbly speech bubble that looked more like embarrassment than anything and was much less vehement than most of his complaints about Billy constantly teasing him about his affection for Liam. Liam did nothing at all.

And then Billy just changed the subject like, "we ain't got time for that, let's get back to work!"

And they both went with it without another word.

As someone on Japanese twitter pointed out, the only time they'd seen in anime/manga that kind of calm lack of reaction to a third party commenting that two men were married was...Yuri!!! On ICE.

And we all know how that went.

I'm not going to say it's necessarily canon or anything. But this series has way crossed the normal line shonen usually rides with "the two male leads are very homoerotic." This isn't, "Male author makes male protagonist only connect with other men because they don't know how to connect with women." This is obviously very intentional at this point. This feels more like, "How many romance tropes can we cram in here?"

And Japan doesn't write romances the way America and Europe usually does. They write romances where people get married even if they never or barely kissed on page. They don't have the same explicit declarations of romantic love necessarily. That's not really part of their culture.

They have, say, two character swear to each other that they want to live alongside each other and take care of each other. That's the kind of proposals in Japanese culture. And. Well. Look at that.

And I just really needed time to fully process that this happened, because yesterday was much more explicit than I ever, ever expected this series to get about this.

And I still honestly am so floored I don't really know what to do.

#Yuukoku no Moriarty #Moriarty the Patriot #Sherliam #Sherliam Hell

[cannibalcoyote]

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

You're a famous rock star being interviewed about the beginning of your career to the current (includes mentions of Mick Ronson, David Bowie, and Mick Jagger):

"Ma'am, can you tell us a little bit about when you first met David Bowie?" The question was so sudden that I could only scrunch my eyebrows at it. I expected David to be brought up sometime, but I didn't expect the first question to be about him.

"Sure, let's see.... I can't remember the exact date, but my dear friend - Mick Ronson - had called me up saying some band was interested in having us as guitar players. I was hesitant because I enjoyed my job as an architect, but something pushed me to go with him; we hopped on the next train to London and did the audition." I explain, tilting my head up at the memories resurfacing. Ronno had been unsure as well, but I'm glad we went.

"We heard it wasn't a pleasant experience? What happened?" They emphasize 'wasn't', clearly looking for some juicy gossip on Bowie, and who am I to disappoint.

"Well, David had accepted Mick but rejected me, and Ronno originally turned down the offer because of that. He didn't even tell me the truth, just grabbed me by the arm and lugged me as well as the guitars out of the building. I knew it hadn't gone well because he had this angry glare in his eyes, which is strange, because if you've ever met him, then you'd know he's rather sweet, and has a very discerning disposition.

I asked what was wrong and he just said that they didn't want us. I knew he was lying, but I didn't want to argue with him. We spent the rest of the time wandering around London sightseeing." I state, folding my hands up in my lap as I look at the interviewer. I don't like looking back to the '70s, a lot of stuff happened, and I fear what they will bring up.

"What happened after that?" The interviewer continues hastily digging, wanting more information. I guess this person isn't going to quit until they get the full story.

"We had stopped by a restaurant and were having lunch. Ronno was saying we should catch the train home after, but we were interrupted by David. I don't know how he found us, I just remember being shocked when he started begging Ronno to join his band. I was also a little confused, and I remember saying, 'I thought you didn't want us?'

To which David responded, 'No, I want him, I just don't want you.' That line had run through my head the following 3 years until I realized how lucky I was David didn't want me." I say the last few sentences in a softer voice, not liking to relive that particular memory.

"He said what?!" The interviewer over exaggerates their movements, getting the audience laughing just as they had hoped. I laugh a little too, David saying something so rude does seem rather uncharacteristic.

"Yah, I was rather astonished as well because the words left him in such a casual way, as if choosing what bread to buy at the market." I say, gently chuckling at the visual of David buying bread in such a critical way.

"What- How, how did Mick react to that." Their eyes widen, the crowd quiets down as they await my answer.

"Oh, he almost punched David! But I grabbed him and pulled him aside, asking why he lied and all that stuff." I respond, remembering the beautiful anger that he so desperately wanted to act on.

"I bet the last thing you wanted was for him to join David's band, right?" The interviewer asks the question humorously.

"That's... Wrong actually. He was vehemently against playing in a band without me, this is mainly due to the fact that ever since we were 12, we've always played together. But, I wanted him to take the opportunity, to show the world his ability, and to be able to be a confident player without me." I explain in a gentle voice, vaguely thinking of how self-conscious he was at the time when it came to him playing guitar.

"You seem to be a really supportive friend, (Y/N)." The tone of their voice turns genuine, the whole conversation losing the humorous quality that had been sustained.

"I try to be, the last thing I want is for people's failings or regrets to be because of me." I smile, my relieved guilt ebbing away as I think of where he and I are now.

"As well as being supportive, you also seem to be fairly protective, at least, that's what I got when Mick told us the story of you traumatizing his high school bully! With that in mind, how did you feel when you learned he was earning next to nothing during the tour?" The beginning of the sentence sent the interviewer and audience into a bit of a laugh, I laugh as well at the memory of scaring off Ronno's bully.

The laughter lightly quiets down to a more serious tone at the end discussion.

"I was appalled! I hated myself for a while because of that, because I pushed him into this situation where he was barely getting paid. Which was the opposite of what I thought would happen, especially after their popularity went through the roof!"I exclaimed, my eyes widening as I relived the shock; the ebbing guilt rushing forward tenfold.

"I heard you went to some extreme measures in order to help him out, what exactly did you do?" The interviewer goes on, the questions digging into lesser known information.

"Well, I joined any band I could, I would try and get hired by restaurants for live music during nights, and then during the day I had a job as a waitress as well as working part time as a lyricist." I explain, just saying that makes me remember how tiring my schedule was back then.

"Now that's a lot to juggle, and I'm sure you have some great stories from those days, but we have a specific story. What happened during one of your many tiring nights of live music?" They ask, this question is sort of a bore to me, one I'm frequently asked to retell.

"I had been band hopping at the time, and was hired for a gig when I didn't have a supportive group, so I improvised. I played my guitar and was singing live, but before that I had recorded the drums and rhythm guitar parts for the songs I was scheduled to play, so when I got up there I just started the recording and played along.

This was for a club where they wanted rock, so it was heavier playing. It was during my guitar solo I noticed someone in the crowd." I divulged, deciding to add in some information I had never shared before.

"Ooh, is this when you met the Rolling Stones?!" Someone screams out, the crowd and interviewer looking in shock before they all burst out laughing at the person's eagerness.

"Yes... but I technically only met Mick Jagger that night. I wasn't a big fan of the Rolling Stones at the time, but I did have an appreciation for their music. I was actually playing one of their songs at the time. Either way, it just surprised me to see him." I continued after we had all calmed down.

"I know you joined their band after that, but can you tell us what exactly went down?" I squint slightly at my interviewer's vernacular before deciding to just answer them.

"I don't think I can tell you all the details, I worry J might get embarrassed! But, I can tell you that he met me backstage after I was done and asked me if I was available tomorrow to meet him at a recording studio. It was the weekend the next day, so I said yes, he wrote down the address and time on a piece of paper, handed it to me, then said goodbye and walked away." I state in a jovial tone, Jagger is one of my favorite people to talk about, because he loves to call immediately after the interview and schedule a meet up. He's strange like that.

"Sounds strange? How did you feel after that?" They looked intrigued, clearly wanting me to divulge the information that I withheld.

"I was shocked. The next day I went and met him and his band mates, then they started playing a song together and asked me to improv. I had never heard the song before, so I just started watching their movements and playing off of that; by the end they asked if I was interested in joining their band, which I clearly said yes to." I exclaim, the interviewer's face looking shocked by what I just said.

"Wow, that all sounds like it went really fast?"

"Oh it was, we had only been playing for 20 minutes when they all stopped and asked me to join. I was going to say no because I needed to make enough money to send to Ronno, but when they mentioned how much I would make weekly I immediately accepted." I reply, chuckling as I remember my astonishment.

"I know after joining the Stones, your career skyrocketed, your solo albums have done well, and you write all your own songs?" They continue, motioning to my newest album sitting on their desk.

"Yes, my solo albums have done surprisingly well, and I write my own songs. I do accept and sing other songs sometimes, but I usually have a story told throughout my albums, and throwing in a random song messes that up." I explained.

"Did you and Mick Ronson keep in contact during this?" They question, looking at me in interest.

"Of course! In the beginning, Ronno and I called every week at the least, and we would send letters sometimes too!" I state ecstatically before calming myself down.

"How did that work? He was touring at the time right?" They ask in a befuddled way.

"Yes he was, but he would tell me the places he would be as well as the dates that he would be there, and I would do the same with him. It was a little complicated, but it was worth it." I reply, my hands waving as I mimic us writing letters.

"Honestly though, what would you send him that couldn't be said over the phone?" They ask after a few moments, laughing as their mind runs.

"Photos, drawings, songs, food-"

"Photos?" I can hear what they're implying, and I can't help but squint my face in disgust. The crowd's laughter magnified at my reaction.

"Stop thinking like that, you all have dirty minds! I would take pictures of me and the band, as well as the places around me. I loved drawing as well, so I would send him some, as well as some songs that I thought he would enjoy playing. Lastly, I knew he was getting food, but I knew it wasn't food he was used to, so I would bake him something, or buy him local snacks and ship them off to the correct address." I explain, describing the different things I would send him.

"Did he ask you to do any of this?"

"No, Ronno was never a complainer, he hated telling people his issues. I was usually the exception, but he prefers telling me in person as compared to over the phone or in a letter. He did enjoy them though, and he would send me songs and pictures as well. I remember him snapping a picture of his drummer scarfing down some cookies I made!" I jubilantly state, smirking as I remember that the picture is still hanging on my fridge.

"You sent him all these lovely things, what did he send you?"

"I never asked for anything more than a letter or a phone call, but he would send me these extravagant songs, asking me how I thought they sounded and if I liked them. He would also send me drawings - he's not really an artist, but he knows I love the little doodles he does randomly, so he started sending them to me." I grin, knowing Ronni will be embarrassed by me sharing this information.

"Was this an easier time in your life or would you consider it one of the more stressful?" Ah, here it comes, the questions I am most dreading.

"The fame and fortune made my financial issues about none, but socially I felt isolated. I had played in popular bands before, but never like this, I was only consistently around my band mates and the people that worked for them. I only really talked with Jagger and Keith, and then Keith randomly started hating me, so I was down to only talking to Jagger." I reply almost subconsciously, my mind wanting to distance itself from these memories.

"What about Ronson? I thought you said you had weekly phone calls and sent letters?" They ask in confusion.

"We did, but about 3 months into that, David started complaining to Ronno that he spent too much time talking to me, and that he was ignoring his band mates for someone he might never see again." The answer in a short tone, clearly still holding resentment for David's decision.

"David said that?" They say in shock.

"Yah, he said it straight to Ronno's face. We obviously didn't stop talking, we kept calling and messaging each other, but it lessened after that to about 1 call every 2 weeks. They became much longer phone calls though, he said that David was limiting his amount of calls, but stated that David couldn't limit his time, so we would end up talking through the entire night!" I smile on glee, our weak form of rebellion still makes my heart warm.

"We've talked about Ronson and his band mates reactions, but how did your bandmates react?" They continue, going down a different avenue.

"Well, everyone basically made fun of me and said we were in love. They told me to stop being so desperate because I was probably annoying Ronno, that remark actually made me start to overthink a lot. I started worrying that I was annoying him, and that he didn't like talking to me anymore. I think that's around the time I began to develop anxiety, I was already depressed, so that just added on to my plate." I responded before realizing I was over sharing on live TV.

"Did you tell Ronson about that? How did he react?" They gratefully kept moving right along, not leaving an awkward silence.

"Well, I never actually told him about that, I think this is the first time he's hearing this." I smile in discomfort, and an uncertain smile on my face.

"Really? You never spoke to him about any of this?" They ask in surprise, slightly taken aback.

"My anxiety had me thinking that saying a single word to him was annoying him, so no, I didn't just start talking about this to him. It was a really dark spot for me, the person to pull me through was Jagger actually. He noticed my extensive isolation, how I stopped eating around others, how I stopped talking. He really pulled through for me, which is probably why I'm still friends with him." I voice solemnly, deciding that I might as well be honest about the situation since there is no going back now.

"I know this is a heavy topic for you, I have some more questions, but if you're uncomfortable we can move on." Wish you had said that earlier, but oh well.

"Ask away, we can just skip the ones I'm uncomfortable with." I smile in response.

"Alright, what did Mick do? Did he just pull you aside and talk to you?"

"No actually, he wrote a song and asked if I would listen to it." I responded.

"What?" Perhaps I should rephrase my vague response.

"That's honestly what he did. But he wrote a song with true meaning, it was rather dark, and it actually made me cry and begin to hyperventilate. We were alone, so he just rushed over and helped calm me down; he didn't ask me any questions until I had completely relaxed." I explained honestly.

"What did he say exactly?" They continue.

"He just apologized, asking if I wanted to talk. I said no at first, but then he asked why I've been distancing myself from him and the band, why all the songs I was writing were either dark or sad.

I told him the truth, that I was depressed, that I felt so intensely alone, and that I could no longer talk to Ronno because I was probably annoying him." An uncomfortable shiver ran up my spine, reliving those memories makes me feel nauseous.

"How did he react to that? I can't really picture him being the best at giving advice and comfort." She smiles in a joking way, attempting to lighten the conversation.

"He was lovely, he hugged me like a giant teddy bear and told me that he would help me through this. We talked for a while, he asked me why I thought I was annoying Ronno, and I told him what the band had said to me." I answer, feeling a small smile appear at the memory of Mick comforting me.

"What did he say to that?"

"He told me that they were a bunch of single idiots who were jealous, and that I shouldn't ruin a meaningful relationship with my best friend by believing the words of immature drug addicts." I respond, barely withholding my laughter as I watch everyone's reaction.

"He said that?!" They nearly yell, everyone laughing at my answer.

"Yes, and the next day he told them all off for belittling me. During our talk he spoke to me about my isolation, I explained that I did that when I was sad or feeling out of place, and he asked what he could do to make me feel like a part of the team. He honestly made me cry a couple of times from how caring he was. Then he started talking about heavier subjects, such as why I wasn't eating during lunch breaks, why I never accepted snacks, and why I was noticeably losing weight." I state, realizing that I was now broaching the subject of my eating disorder.

"That must've been tough." They state seriously.

"It was, I realized at that moment, how much I missed Ronno. I asked Jagger if he wanted me to leave the band since I was such a problem, but he told me to stop being an idiot. The next day I was given a few sheepish apologies from my band mates, and Jagger became a very prominent person in my life from that day on." I explained.

"That's good. So Mick Jagger stepping up to help you must've put him pretty high on your list of friends right?"

"Yes, I only realized how much he was doing for me when he barged into my room during a depressive episode and all but shoved the phone into my hand. I distinctly remember him telling me not to come out until tomorrow morning. When I held the phone up, he had actually dialed up Ronno, who sounded very tired and confused, as well as concerned." I smile, these are the memories that I hold onto dearly.

"Really? How did he know what number to call?"

"I assume he went snooping around my desk, in one of my drawers was a paper with dates, addresses, and numbers. It was one of the sweetest things anybody had ever done for me." The look on my face was genuine, that was honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me.

"I know you two are still good friends, but was there ever the possibility of anything more?" Oh boy, I hate it when they try to talk about this subject.

"I did find him to be attractive if that's what you're asking, but I was never in love with him. He did ask me out on a date and I had said yes, the date was lovely, but we got caught in a crowd of fans and he was like how he normally is. It made me remember how many groupies I'd seen leaving his room, and how many women I've seen smothered over him at all times, and it scared me away from ever allowing myself to love him." I reply sincerely.

"Could there have been something? If you hadn't cut it off?" They continue to push the topic.

"There could've been something eventually - from the despondent look on his face when I said I didn't want a relationship, I think he wanted us to become something more. I don't regret what I did, I like the friendship I have with him, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it with his promiscuity and my need for loyalty. We've moved on though, I kind of see him as the older brother I never had." I reply, explaining my reasoning and the aftermath.

"Well, since that ship has definitely sunk, what about Ronson? Was there ever anything there?" They just won't give up will they?

"No... Well, there was one time in high school when we thought we should try dating, but that was spurred on by our teenage inability to understand that we loved each other, but not in that way. We realized that that wasn't us when we tried to act like a couple and both noticed that it felt forced. Ever since then we've been best friends." I state.

"Gosh, you're shooting down all of the fan favorites. Are you interested in anyone? Anyone at all?" They sound slightly exasperated, maybe I should throw them a bone.

"Hmmm... Maybe." I smile, a mischievous glint surely in my eye.

"What do you mean maybe? You can't leave the fans hanging like that!" I can tell that I have their genuine attention now.

"Well, ever since David and I have become friends, I've been... slightly interested in him." I say, jumping straight into the deep end.

"..." The silence could almost be described as palpable, it almost makes me want to laugh at how everyone is stunned into silence.

"Well, don't just stare at me." I laugh lightly.

"... I'm sorry, just processing. Does David know this?" They ask in hurried confusion.

"Well, if he's watching like he said he would, then he knows now." I laughed once again, but this time it had an air of uncertainty to it.

"Don't tell me you just confessed over live TV, in an interview no less!" They say in shock, looking at me with wide eyes.

"What if he doesn't reciprocate!" Their response makes me shiver in discomfort at that possibility, but I respond in humor.

"Then I die of embarrassment, cut all ties, and become a hermit!" I state loudly.

"Oh don't do that Y/N! Only healthy reactions are allowed on this show." The crowd laughs lightly at our convo.

I'm about to respond, but my Motorola starts ringing in my bag. I look to the interviewer before quickly digging through my bag and pulling out the phone. I sheepishly glance at it, the audience having fallen silent at the interruption.

"Is it alright if I answer this? It might be important." I state, I know this sounds bad, but it could actually be important since I left my home and animals under the care of my neighbor.

"Of course, but you owe us one more question before you leave then." They respond, holding out their hand.

"Deal!" I agree, shaking their hand quickly.

"Hello, this is Y/N." I state in a professional tone, getting a funny look from the interviewer at my seriousness.

"Y/N darling!" I am thrown off by the happy and familiar tone.

"...David?!" I state in slight confusion, everyone seeming to lean in closer.

"...Yes?" He responds in the same tone, making fun of the way I responded.

"Why are you calling me? I'm in an interview." I explain, swiftly going back to my professional tone.

"Yes well, when someone confesses they are interested in dating you, I thought the first thing one should do is accept." He responds in a joking yet serious tone.

I'm silent for a few moments in surprise, did David just say he wants to date me too?

"Well, don't leave me without a response darling... Will you go on a date with me?" His serious and self assured tone dwindled slightly, I can hear his uncertainty.

"Yes." My response was short, it was rushed and all I could muster with my amount of shock.

"Good, I'll pick you up after the interview, so I'll see you in a few minutes." He stated before hanging up.

I can't contain the overjoyed smile that spreads across my face, most certainly accompanied by a warm blush. The audience snickers as I clumsily put my phone away, then they start laughing as the interviewer stares at me with a smug grin.

"Who was that?" They ask tauntingly.

"Ohhh... no one." I try to brush it off, but I know no one is believing.

"Really! Does this no one happen to be named David Bowie?" They continue.

I avert my eyes in embarrassment, the audience laughing even louder as I sheepishly nod my head.

#david bowie fanfic #david bowie x reader #david bowie imagine #david bowie fluff #david bowie #david bowie one shot #female insert #female reader #female writers #female author #famous reader #celebrity reader #interview #mick jagger #mick ronson #ziggy stardust #the rolling stones

[zagreuses-toast]

My Vetinari Playlist. Some songs are very specific others are entirely vibes based, also a lot of girlboss songs because those fit his approach to being a Tyrant the best somehow. Like Vimes he would vehemently hate some of these songs, I have added them nonetheless. Reasoning/guide to the songs under the cut.

Politics and The City, always the City. I think a lot about Vimes' internal monologue from Night Watch about the city's supply chain and Vetinari being the only ruler of the city to really worry about it's function :

Hymn to the Breaking Strain by Secular Solstice (because the Leslie fish version isn't available on Spotify. Vetinari isn't an engineer but he appreciates their value and danger)

All Along The Watchtower by Bear Mcreary (Vimes gets the Jimi Hendrix, Vetinari gets the version from BSG, which is ominous and was used to unveil a conspiracy)

& by Tally Hall

How Now Dark Cloud by TMBG

I Am Alone by TMBG

Darling The Dose by TMBG

His Kiss The Riot from Hades Town (I also imagine if Vetinari sang his voice would be a baritone of this caliber)

The Body Is A Blade by Japanese Breakfast

Stone Cold Coup D'etat

Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles

Ballad of a Politician by Regina Spektor

Everybody Wants to Rule The World by Tears for Fears (cover by NSP)

She's Always A Woman by Billy Joel

The Circle by Secular Solstice (this is actually a carrot song, but there's a reason Carrot and Vetinari get along)

Gun Song from Assassins (I am always thinking about men at arms and the Gonne)

This is where I would normally put the characters love interest songs but Vetinari's one true love is The Bit:

Hate the Villanelle by TMBG

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park & Pollution by Tom Lerher

Rest Employed by The Stupendium

I Palindrome I by TMBG

Party Dog by Tom Cardy (dog things AND city-state politics)

The World's Address by TMBG

Havelock "do I need a button that says Tyrant" Vetinari and his commitment to the Villain bit:

Villain by Stella Jang

Red Right Hand by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Oh No! By MARINA

Villain by K/DA

Feeling Good by Nina Simone cover by Micheal Bublé (Bond villain sounding song but the lyrics are just enjoying normal nice stuff, exactly Vetinari's thing)

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Bitch Better Have My Money by Rihanna (soundtrack to drumknott getting out the Tax Ledger)

I'm Alive from Next To Normal

No one Knows My Plan by TMBG

Be Prepared from The Lion King (did you think I wouldn't include a real Disney villain song, besides it's JEREMY IRONS aka Vetinari from the Color of Magic tv series)

Vetinari's nihilism and humanism, the roiling sea of evil and the moral imperative to be better than the gods:

Things Are Not What They Appear by The Gothic Archies

Last Wave by TMBG

This Too Shall Pass by Danny Schmidt

They're Only Human from the Death Note musical (hear me out, it's a conversation between Vetinari and Margolotta, you decide who's who)

Let's Get This Over With by TMBG

Cruel to be Cruel by Jessica Law

Living Thing by Electric Light Orchestra (Vetinari and his difficulty getting rid of one of a kind things, I think about leonard of quirm a lot)

Mad World by Gary Jules and Micheal Andrews

Misc:

I Like Fun by TMBG (entirely for the "my excellence at parkour may be unexpected at the age of 58" also the clock thing)

A Good Song Never Dies by Saint Motel (local patrician haunted by a little goblin girl's music forever)

Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons (Vetinari and Vimes song, ruining his life/the watch, being part of fixing it, constantly pushing him, occasionally pushing too hard)

#havelock vetinari #lord vetinari #vetinari #discworld #gnu terry pratchett #ear juice #favorite tyrant #i am always having many thoughts about him

[littlekohai77]

🎼Here I am once again.....feeling lost but.....🎼

💃🏾💃🏾

Forgive my bad singing 😹

I have a request for Cain Luterain and Kartein; them being absolute simps for their s/o.

That is all....

*🕴🏾🕴🏾🕴🏾🕴🏾*

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 :) 𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙰𝙱𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙰𝚃 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝚃 𝙰 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁 𝙸'𝙼 𝚂𝙾 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈 😭😭😭😭

🄲🄷🄰🅁🄰🄲🅃🄴🅁🅂: Kartein, Cain.

🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶🅂: use of inappropriate language, favouritism given towards Kartein, not proof read, made this at 3 am.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

🅺🅰🆁🆃🅴🅸🅽:

It honestly would probably take a lot to get this queen pussywhipped.

HE GOT SOME STANDARDS HOES.

Anyway um, yeah.

When this man becomes a simp for his s/o, he's going to hell and back for them.

You suddenly want a glass of water just as he put on his comfy socks and was getting ready for bed? He'll get it for you just because, walking will tire you out and as you are his patient, that'll only make more work for him. YES THAT'S THE REASON STOP SMIRKING!!

Oh! You want to hug him now? After he'd just put on his freshly ironed shirt? So you can wrinkle it? Sure! Just because, saying no would make you upset and an upset patient would be more work for him. DEPRESSED PATIENTS ARE HARD TO DEAL WITH STOP LOOKING AT HIM LIKE THAT NO HE'S NOT LYING JGJFJFH

Yeah, him being a simp is just him actually tolerating you and letting you do stuff he normally would never let anyone do.

Like letting you do his eyeliner, or use him makeup and products. That most of the time means he's comfortable around you.

Although if you're a clutz he will always try to be around when you do it and will be a bit hesitant when lending them to you. That restraint melts away as soon as you bat your pretty eyes at him and join your hands.

He's a good natured person... Albeit morally kind of gray but anyhow. He would normally help you but as soon as you mention it, he retreats and takes back his help while vehemently denying your claims as if he'd just been accused of witchcraft.

But as a simp, while he still vehemently yet a smidgen more softly denies it all, he doesn't take back his help and also doesn't run off.

Truly some character growth huh.

As the years go by and he falls even more in love with you, he'll slowly warm up and start admitting his feelings to you little by little. During this time you shouldn't tease him as he'd shrink back and you'll end up at square one again, so just appreciate it as it comes.

He talks about you.. A lot. Like A LOT.

It slowly grows from small chatter with Jiwoo to bringing up how amazing you are at random moments when he's alone.

Like in the shower, he's shampooing his hair and then suddenly scratches his scalp too hard. He groans and mutter about how much better your hands feel. He continues to lather but suddenly stops as what he just said sinks in. There's a silence... And then suddenly the steam feels too hot.

You're constantly on his mind. Whenever he sees something that reminds him of you, he lowly mutters under his breath about it.

He'll do chores for you, you won't even have to say anything to him, he just start doing it and when asked he gives the same reason as before, a tired patient is more work for him.

He refuses to admit that he's your doctor but claims you to be his patient. And this goes on for a while even when he's absolutely whipped cause he's just that shy. And you wonder if he was dropped on his head as a child.

But he eventually drops it and finally starts to openly admit his feelings to you.

He stares a lot. Any time the sun hits you just right? He's staring wide eyed with a dust of pink on the apples of his cheeks. You look like an absolute mess? He's staring. Your ass looks good in a dress? He's practically drooling.

Simp Kartein might even let you win an argument or two against him.

He won't apologize first though! He might be a simp but he still has some dignity!!

🅲🅰🅸🅽 🅻🆄🆃🅴🆁🅰🅸🅽:

He'll let you touch his hair.

He'll let you do his eye liner.

Wear those shits like a badge of honor cause there's nothing in the world that screams 'I trust you' more than him letting someone else get so close to his eye and touching his precious hair.

He probably opens car doors for you, acting all gentlemanly.

He probably doesn't say that an outfit looks bad on you even if it does, because in his eyes, all he sees is the most prettiest and precious angel.

He's more comfortable sharing his feelings.

Gives out words of affirmation a lot. Compliments you often. The whole ensemble.

Doesn't get mad at you easily, or at all. Mostly just gets upset.

Fangirls about you to his underlings. How you're so sweet, so cute, so dainty and precious-

Gets a bit nervous and stutters around you but still remains pretty dignified and composed.

He remains a bit the same. Because just getting into a relationship would require him to be a bit of a simp for you. Otherwise he would've never realized his feelings.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

𝙰𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.... 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞. :)

#eleceed #eleceed x reader #world academy #world academy arc #world awakened academy #cain luterain #cain luterain x reader #cain x reader #cain #kartein x reader #kartein #requested #being simps

[carigm]

Regarding this whole bi Mike vs. gay Mike debate, I’m personally open to either as long as the Duffers make it make sense. They can take two narrative choices here: Mike is gay and his relationship with El was born out of conformity, trauma bonding, hero worship, and ofc over time, genuine care….or Mike is bi and has been slowly falling out of love with El for the past two seasons and struggling with the idea of liking his best friend, as well as scared of being a boy liking another boy in the 80’s and also trying to conform.

There are similarities in these narratives and there are also differences. However, as long as the duffers explain Mike’s previous behavior in a way that is coherent to whatever narrative they pick (even if that paints some of Mike’s actions in a bad light) , then we have a good story.

Their job is to explain all of Mike’s (often questionable) choices these past few seasons in order for his character to reach a desirable conclusion and achieve some growth, as well as making Byler work in a way that doesn’t feel contrived nor cheap.

I do think it’s important to remember this is a Netflix show that has been geared to the general masses for quite a while now, and that although this is the last season and perhaps they can get away with more, they will most likely have Byler happen in the most palatable way so that the ga accepts them as a couple.

We are talking about a show that vehemently shies away from having their queer characters saying their actual labels out loud, so if Byler happens they will likely try to make them look as sympathetic as possible to the audience. An audience that LOVES Eleven at that.

So while I personally am a huge proponent of complicated situations and drama, I don’t believe the Duffers are.

I do think they probably got a little messy this season, that’s just inherent if they decided to go with Byler as an endgame couple lol….

but let’s just keep in mind that whatever choice the duffers picked is a choice they had to sell to all the Netflix executives, and one they will have to sell to the general audience as well.

#byler #byler theory