#incessant meowing

[aurosoul]

OP made this post unrebloggable but me and my bf made this meme in a fit of obsession and it had to be shared

[scuopsie]

Just rescued a cat that was trapped on the roof for 3 days 😪

[ectherapy]

u people are making it embarrassing to be me i swear to god

[lesbiangiratina]

Thats such a cool way to translate that line thank you for understanding themes.

[sergeanthatredbignaturals]

I was supposed to have my first hydrotherapy session today, i had a breakdown instead :D

So much fun/sar

On a related note, i had my drama GCSE final performance today, or one of them at least, and it went a wee bit dogshit so that was great

Anywho

[aestatismors]

I want to write so much but I am so tired because the cats would not let me sleep

[yvningshowers]

IM SO GLAD YOU SAID KIRI ENERGY BECAUSE YES I THOUGHT THE SAME DAMN THING DMSBSBZHBDBDJ

I was just like “…and that’s the story of how we adopted 13 kittens.” 😂😂😂

RIGHT!?@??! He gets home and you're watering some plants out front or something and you watch with amusement and then SHOCK as he steps out of the car and pulls out a fucking TUB out of the backseat full of kittens like yOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE the CATASTROPHE that befell us grinning all wild thinking he's funny as shit

[jaeyunverse]

cat boy

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

wc: 1882

genres: some fluff, mostly crack, enemies to lovers, neighbours au

warnings: profanity

summary: yang jungwon is pissed his cat likes you more than him. or, in which jungwon’s cat plays cupid and sets you up.

note: this is extremely unserious!!!! i only wrote it for funsies but i enjoyed the process a lot :) i hope the fic manages to bring a smile on your face hehe

masterlist

There was an angry-looking Yang Jungwon standing at your door.

You didn’t know why he was so pissed. You just knew you didn’t care.

“Your incessant knocking woke me up,” you replied dryly and leaned against the door frame, arms crossing over your chest. “You better have a good reason for ruining my sleep.”

“It’s five in the evening.”

“What’s your point?”

Jungwon’s jaw clenched, and the corner of your lip curled up a smirk. Provoking him was always so satisfying. Always so easy and entertaining.

It was crazy how he was the sweetest person with everyone else but the moment you opened your mouth, he glared at you and looked like he was plotting your death. The discrimination and harsh treatment you’d received from the boy upon moving into your apartment had hurt at first, but you’d soon learnt to take it with a grain of salt.

You’d learnt that it was way more fun to push his buttons and see just how far you needed to take things for him to reach his breaking point.

“Just shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Jungwon snapped, pointing an accusing finger at you. “I need you to stop playing with my cat. Do not touch her. Do not call her name. Do not do the weird fucking meowing thing you do where she meows back at you and you have those god awful meowing conversations. Do not—”

“Oh, yeah,” you interrupted and pretended to deeply think about something. “I think it was just yesterday that Cleo told me you were popping a vein over her liking me more than you. I must say, Yang, you have reached a level of pathetic I didn’t even know existed. Yelling at your neighbour because you don’t get validation from your cat? Tsk.”

Embarrassment and anger coloured the entirety of Jungwon’s face a deep red. “You don’t get it!” he exclaimed. “Cleo keeps clawing at the front door! She doesn’t even want to stay with me anymore. She stares at me with so much resentment because I don’t let her play with you all the time!”

“I’m confused,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you let her play with me if that’s why she hates you? Your problem has a very simple solution—”

“But she’s my cat!” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stepped closer to you, desperation evident on his features. “I don’t care if she plays with you, but the more she does, the more she realises that she’d rather have you take care of her.”

“Well,” you sputtered, a little taken aback by how much his cat’s preferences had distraught him. “If it’s any consolation to you, I don’t have the time or resources to look after Cleo, so she has no choice but to stay with you.”

“I don’t know how to make her love me again,” Jungwon mumbled to himself, not having heard you at all. “I know cats aren’t very loyal, but I didn’t think Cleo would dump me after everything we’ve gone through. I pay the landlord more money so she can keep staying with me without having to hide from anyone. I fought—”

“Yang!” you yelled and grabbed his shoulders. He snapped out of his reverie and looked at you in despair. You’d never thought you would feel bad for him, but you found yourself offering, “Do you want me to show you how I play with her? I don’t know why she prefers me over you, but maybe I’m doing something you aren’t. Maybe you’ll know what it is if we play with her together.”

Jungwon nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Now?” you asked incredulously. “I have to meet a friend for dinner.”

“Please,” he begged, and you didn’t think you’d ever heard him sound so hopeless before. “Just for ten minutes.”

You hesitated a bit for a moment, but then reluctantly agreed. “Ten minutes.”

Jungwon watched in awe as you interacted with Cleo. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his ginger Ragamuffin so excited.

“Hey, Cleo,” you cooed, cupping her face in your hands. “How are you doing? How’s the most precious girl in the world doing?”

Cleo purred and leaned into your touch. Smiling, you caressed her cheeks and kissed her nose.

Gathering her in your arms, you stood up. The cat rested her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I really don’t see Cleo hating anyone,” you said to Jungwon, a small frown settling on your features. “I mean, look at her.”

He sighed and padded towards you, stopping only when he was right beside. His arm brushed against yours. “I don’t get it either.”

And then, as if to prove to you that he wasn’t lying about his cat having something against him, Jungwon lightly petted her.

Cleo’s eyes snapped open and her nails popped out. She pawed at him and he withdrew his hand immediately.

“Oh.”

“I don’t understand why she’s acting this way,” he lamented. “She was good to me until you came along!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Are you seriously saying this is my fault? Did you even consider the possibility of you being a horrible owner?”

“You did not just say that!” Jungwon looked extremely offended, but you didn’t give a shit. You couldn’t believe he was blaming you for his problems.

“I don’t even need to say anything,” you sneered. “Cleo running away from you to me speaks volumes.”

You saw your neighbour’s jaw clench. His hands curled into fists at his side, and you wondered if you’d gone too far. You know he loved his cat; insinuating that he wasn’t taking good care of her probably hurt.

Besides, you knew it wasn’t true. Jungwon was a huge animal enthusiast. He’d looked after a turtle when he was five and had decided then and there that a career surrounded by animals was what he wanted. He was studying to be a veterinary doctor now.

Before you could open your mouth to apologise, he muttered, “I should have known this was a bad idea.”

Your blood boiled once again. “You really do have a knack for being the most ungrateful asshole anyone could ever come across, Yang.”

In your arms, Cleo meowed and lifted her head from your shoulder, staring daggers at her owner.

“Ungrateful?” Jungwon snorted in disbelief, not noticing the glares the Ragamuffin was sending his way. “You haven’t done anything since you came here! I don’t have shit to be grateful for.”

Cleo growled, and the boy finally acknowledged her anger.

You pointed a finger at Jungwon and fumed, “I take back what I said before. I do see Cleo hating you. You’re a little bitch who—”

“Oh, spare me.” He cut you off with a roll of his eyes, but you paid him no heed and continued,

“Maybe she’d like you better if you liked me better!”

The cat meowed again. The message was very clear. She agreed.

“I do like you...” Jungwon said defensively, but it was a pathetic attempt that convinced no one. Especially not Cleo.

“Yeah, sure.” You let out a humourless laugh. “You’ve obviously been a jerk to me from the very start because you think you’re the unapproachable, dark-haired, broody lead and I’m the sunshine who is supposed to make you open up.”

He gave you a sour look. “You’re not the sunshine.”

“And you’re not the main character you think you are. I’m not going to put up with your attitude anymore. Just stop being a dick and tell me what you have against me.”

Jungwon hesitated for a moment. You watched as he contemplated whether or not to tell you the real reason behind his grudge, and with each passing second, you slowly started to get a good idea of why.

You knew it was going to be something stupid.

He proved you right.

“I was trying to rent the apartment you’re living in. It has a better view and is way bigger. I live with a cat and you live alone—I thought it was unfair that the landlord chose someone who doesn’t even need the space.”

You were speechless for a while. You took your sweet time to wrap your head around the fact that Yang Jungwon was one petty son of a bitch.

“That’s it?” you finally asked. “You hate me because I snagged the apartment you wanted fair and square?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t need to.

You exclaimed, “Grow the hell up, Yang! So what if I got it? It’s been six months; move on!”

“You don’t need it as much as I do!” he protested.

“You don’t know that!” you said angrily. “You don’t know me! You never tried to.”

Jungwon opened his mouth to retort, but he didn’t really know what to say. He knew he was the one at fault. Maybe he should have apologised.

Too bad his stubbornness wouldn’t let him go down without a fight.

“It’s not like you ever tried to get to know me either,” Jungwon muttered.

“I brought you home-baked cookies the day I moved in. You said you didn’t want them and shut the door in my face. I invited you to my house-warming party too, but neither did you reply to my email nor show up. You really think I didn’t try to get to know you? To be friends with you?”

Your voice was laced with bitterness, but there were traces of genuine sorrow in it as well. The fire in your eyes from your bickering had winked out and you looked tired.

The boy found his resolve crumbling. Shame and guilt began to build claw at him from the inside. Maybe he had been unnecessarily harsh.

“I—uh..” Jungwon tried, “I’m sorry.”

You raised your eyebrows. “For being so rude to you, I mean, ” he added hastily. “You didn’t deserve it.”

The apology could have been way better but you weren’t going to complain. “Okay.”

Setting Cleo on the floor again, you moved towards the front door of his apartment. “I’ll get going.”

However, before you could turn the knob, Jungwon blurted, “Are—are you free now? Maybe we can hang out and get to know each other?”

“Oh.” You were dumbfounded. Out of all the things you expected him to say, this was not it. “I have to meet a friend tonight. I told you.”

Embarrassment tinted his ears a deep red. “Right,” he squeaked after clearing his throat. “Forget I asked.”

“Well—” you started after a beat of awkward silence— “I won’t be out for that long. Do you wanna come over to watch a movie later?”

“I have to get up early tomorrow.”

You decided that this was clearly not working out—but it wasn’t that bad. So what if Jungwon and you couldn’t hang out? You were on good terms now. That was an immense improvement in your relationship already.

Your neighbour, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood to cut his losses and move on. He tried again, “The weekend?”

You paused. Racked your brain to make sure you didn’t have any other commitments. “The weekend.”

“It’s a date.”

Strangely, you didn’t correct Jungwon. He didn’t take his words back either.

Cleo’s tail swayed in silent approval.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-nine: "The Stray"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt spends his morning alone with the new cat until you return.

Or You say something to Matt that has a bigger impact on him than you even realize.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.2k

a/n: This update is also light and fluffy with its own little surprise at the end. It's also entirely in Matt's POV. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly

Matt hunched over his steaming mug of coffee on the kitchen table, one of his hands running along his face as he tried to wake up. He was still dressed in only his boxers, finally crawling out of bed a little after he’d heard you leave the apartment. He knew you’d woken up early, over-eager to pick up the extra odds and ends for the cat that you’d excitedly ordered last night on your phone from the pet store just two blocks over. 

It had admittedly been adorable listening to how thrilled you were just over picking out cat toys last night. A faint smile ghosted over Matt’s lips even now as he remembered the little shriek you’d made, grabbing at his arm beside you on the couch when you’d spotted sushi themed ones. Granted, Matt always thought you were adorable and found your excitement contagious. 

Drawing the mug of coffee to his lips, Matt could hear the soft patter of paws approaching him. He drank down the liquid before lowering the mug back to the table, his attention shifting to where he heard the cat sit down on the floor not too far from his chair. The soft swish of its tail back and forth was fast becoming a familiar sound around the apartment already.

"She's not here right now," Matt told the cat. "So whatever manipulative face you've been giving her to get your way since yesterday? It won't work on me. Because I can't see it."

A tiny mew met Matt’s ears, the cat's tail continuing to rhythmically move back and forth along the floor. 

"Yeah, you won," Matt told him. "Seems like you didn't belong to anyone after all those calls we made yesterday, so you get to stay here." He pointed a finger down towards the cat, his expression stern. "But don't think you get free run of this place destroying things just because she likes you so much. No scratching up the couch. Or knocking dishes off the kitchen shelves– especially the coffee mugs," he told the cat. "She's weirdly attached to a few of them. I don’t want her crying because you broke one."

Another small meow met Matt’s ears and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. Pressing his lips firmly together, he fought the smile threatening to slip onto his face.

He'd never had a pet before. His father never could've afforded taking care of one when Matt was young, and there was absolutely no way he'd have ever been allowed to have one at St. Agnes, so he initially assumed having a cat roaming around the apartment would be annoying with his senses. The meows, the multiple paw pads hitting the floor as the cat walked, the incessant purring, and the irritating sound of a cat’s tongue as it groomed itself. Those were all things that immediately came to mind when you’d suggested keeping the cat after he’d rescued it from the dumpster. But surprisingly Matt had discovered he hadn't minded the cat's presence much at all–other than the litter box you'd already bought for it. Though if you or Matt cleaned it immediately, the smell wasn't that bad to him and he was quickly learning to ignore it.

This cat’s meowing wasn't actually loud and grating to his ears like he'd always imagined it would be, either. Instead, it was more of a light, sweet noise, one that he’d come to like each time he'd heard it. And the purring almost had a white noise effect just like the patter of rain on the windows. If he was being honest, he'd actually liked falling asleep with the cat at the foot of the bed last night. He'd focused in on the purring, managing to tune out not only the sounds in the apartment building, but also the noise outside in Hell’s Kitchen. Last night was the fastest Matt had ever fallen asleep since gaining his heightened senses with the sound of the purring and your steady heartbeat in his ears. 

He heard the cat rise to its feet, padding over towards his legs. A second later he felt the cat's head rub against his bare calf and the smile finally made its way onto Matt’s face. The cat's fur, after having been cleaned from his time among the garbage, was silky and smoother than he'd imagined it would be, too. He figured it would be scratchy and irritating to his sensitive skin, because generally that’s how it always felt when he'd pet cats or dogs in the past. But apparently not this cat. 

"You're annoyingly persistent, you know that?" Matt told the cat.

Reaching a hand down, Matt scratched the fur under the cat's chin. Seconds later Matt’s ears picked up on the faint rumble as gradually the still nameless cat began to purr.  Some sense of pride began to stir in Matt’s chest at the sound.

“Thought it was supposed to be hard to gain a cat’s affection,” Matt mused quietly. “Don’t blame you for loving her so easily, but I don’t know what the hell you'd want with me.”

The cat stepped closer to Matt as he spoke, rubbing his side along Matt’s shin. The cat’s tail soon curled itself around his calf, the soft hairs almost tickling Matt. The smile on his face grew just a bit wider.

“I know what you’re doing,” Matt told the cat, withdrawing his hand from the cat’s chin and sitting back in his chair. “It’s not going to work.”

Turning his attention back to his coffee, he left the cat to his own devices. He’d noticed since the both of you had brought him home that he’d often taken residence along the radiator by the window in the living room, curling up on it and watching the pigeons on the rooftop across the street. But as Matt picked his mug back up, about to drink more of his coffee, he felt two paws suddenly land on his knee.

The cup of coffee hovered just before Matt’s mouth, his hand freezing. Head tilting to the side, his brows furrowed. The cat had stretched up on his hind legs apparently, his front feet resting on Matt’s knee. He heard the air shift just a bit as one of the paws reached up, and then Matt felt a furry little paw tap the back of his hand that was holding his coffee mug. Turning his head back towards the cat, he heard another little meow again.

“What?” he asked the cat. “I know I heard her feed you and fill your water bowl already when she woke up. And she’s the one who promised to fatten you up, not me. So don’t think you can trick me into giving you more food.”

The little paw gently tapped the back of Matt’s hand again and Matt’s eyes narrowed as he focused in on the cat. Nothing seemed wrong with him–or at least, as far as he could tell. It’s not like he generally tuned into a cat’s physiology and could really tell if something was off. But the vet you’d both taken him to yesterday–who’d in fact confirmed the nameless cat was indeed a male–had said he’d seemed malnourished but otherwise healthy. And Matt couldn’t pick up on anything different from him since then.

“Do you just…want attention?” Matt asked. “Is that it?”

Of course the cat couldn’t answer, but the other place Matt knew this nameless cat had enjoyed spending time was curled up on the couch. Usually next to you or in your lap. Matt remembered the first time the cat had crawled into your lap and laid down last night. He’d been finishing up taking care of the dishes after dinner, pausing when he heard your heart speed up in your chest. At first he’d thought your pulse increasing had something to do with him–but no. It was the cat. Again. Though, the cute little giggle you’d made when the cat settled down on you was one of the best sounds he’d heard in awhile.

“Fine,” Matt relented. “I’ll sit on the couch and drink my coffee and pet you. But if you so much as scratch me with one of your nails,” he warned the cat as he rose to his feet, “I’m going to throw away all of your cat toys.”

The cat made a noise in its throat, the sound something akin to a grunt of disbelief. The unexpected noise surprised Matt, causing him to chuckle as he navigated his way to the couch, trying to keep an ear out for the cat so he didn’t step on him.

“Okay, you’re right, I won’t do that,” he admitted. “But only because of her, not you. Don’t get that mixed up. She was just…really excited about the little sushi ones. I couldn’t possibly throw them away on her.”

Matt settled down onto the couch, the leather cold and a little scratchy against his skin. With a sigh, he raised his coffee mug up to his mouth for a drink, the warmth of it a pleasant contrast to the fabric on his bare skin. He heard the cat jump up onto the couch next to him as he swallowed the liquid, the soft thump of his paws landing on the cushion next to Matt only a faint noise with how little the cat weighed. Almost instantly he curled into a ball against the side of Matt’s bare thigh, the warmth of his furry little body hard not to notice. 

Relaxing back into the cushions, Matt’s eyes closed as he enjoyed his drink and tried to mentally prepare himself for the day. The warmth of the cat at his side soon became soothing, and admittedly it was nice to not be sitting here alone drinking his morning coffee while you were gone. He focused in on the cat’s faint purring, the noise a comfortable decibel to Matt’s ears. He was so relaxed and tuned into the cat that he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered the apartment building, even managing to startle him when you’d opened the apartment door.

“I’m back, Matty!” 

Matt’s eyes opened at the sound of your voice, the cat at his side stirring as well. Turning his head towards the entryway hall, he heard the telltale sound of your heartbeat pounding its usual rhythm in his ears. A smile spread across his lips. That would always be his favorite sound. 

“You manage to get everything you needed, sweetheart?” he called out to you.

“Yeah, they had everything I ordered,” you answered, the sound of bags rustling in his ears as you set them down to take off your shoes. “But I may have also bought him this little scratching post that’s also a hammock. It is the perfect height for the bedroom window,” you continued on, Matt grinning and shaking his head at the excitement in your voice. “So he can curl up in it and watch the pigeons and the traffic comfortably in our room, you know?”

“You’re spoiling this cat, you know that, right?” he teased.

Matt heard the playful scoff you made as you began to pick up all the bags in your hands again. Soon after, he heard your footsteps continue to make their way down the entryway hall towards him.

“He was found in a dumpster , Matt,” you replied. “I think he deserves some nice things.”

Matt shifted his attention down to the cat still curled up beside him on the couch, running his hand along the cat’s fur. “Yeah, I guess trash cat deserves some nice things,” he agreed.

“Matt!” you chastised.

Matt immediately chuckled at the tone of your voice and the way it had went up a few octaves. Admittedly he kept calling the cat that just because he enjoyed the way you reacted every time he did.

“He’s not a trash cat!” you shot back.

Matt heard you placing the bags down behind the couch before you made your way around it. Though when you had, he heard how you paused and the way your heartbeat sped up. Eyes narrowing, his head canted to the side in interest. What had that been about?

“Well, he was found in garbage,” Matt continued half-heartedly, his ears listening to your body. “And I am saying it affectionately.”

“Then maybe I should start calling you a trash Devil,” you quipped, “since I found you in a dumpster.”

He couldn’t resist the peel of laughter that fell out of him, his focus on your body briefly interrupted. He heard you make your way to the couch before he felt the cushion beside him shift as you sat down.

“Unfortunately that doesn’t have as good of a ring to it as Daredevil,” Matt replied, his laughter subsiding.

“Mmm, no, I suppose not,” you agreed.

Matt focused back on you, still absently petting the cat at his side with his free hand. Your heart had returned to its usual pace now. Matt’s head tilted to the side again, curiosity winning out.

“What was with the change in your heartbeat a moment ago?” he asked. “Just before you sat down?”

“Oh,” you breathed out, nervously laughing lightly as you waved a hand. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

A mischievous grin slipped onto Matt’s face as he shook his head. “Okay, so it was definitely something then. Spill, sweetheart.”

There was a moment of silence before you answered. Matt could hear the way your nails were picking at a string on what he assumed were your shorts.You were fidgeting, something you didn’t do too often around him anymore.

“I just–just wasn’t expecting to see you sitting here practically naked with the cat,” you muttered.

Matt’s bottom lip slipped between his teeth, fighting back a smile. “You see me like this every morning, but me sitting with a cat gets your heart racing like that?” he teased.

The air shifted around you as you shrugged, your hands continuing to fidget in your lap. “I don’t know,” you muttered, your cheeks heating, “it’s just like…coming home to my little family or something now, you know? The two of you here together. Both my boys.”

The teasing smile slowly faded from Matt’s lips, his expression softening as he read the nervousness around your body increasing. A warmth stirred in Matt’s chest at your words, his heart swelling. Because you considered him and this stray cat family. Your family.

You waved a dismissive hand, laughing nervously. “Nevermind, it’s stupid,” you said.

“No,” Matt said softly, shaking his head. “It’s not stupid at all.”

He could feel a lump forming in the back of his throat, a well of emotions trying to rise to the surface. Blinking hard a few times, he tried to push it all back. He wasn’t about to get emotional about that, not right now.

“So uh,” Matt began, clearing his throat, “we should probably start to think of names for this little guy if you don’t want trash cat to stick.”

“Actually,” you said, voice a little hesitant, “I had a thought when I was picking up everything this morning from the pet store.”

“For a name?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “I was thinking…what if we named him something after your dad?”

That lump seemed to abruptly thicken in the back of Matt’s throat. He swallowed a couple of times, a blurry image of his father mentally painting itself in his mind. It was getting harder to fight the tears in his eyes as he blinked them back.

“What–what do you mean?” he asked, hoping you didn’t notice the waver in his voice.

“I just meant it might be like a way to honor him?” you answered nervously. “And I–I was thinking maybe we could call him Mittens?”

Matt could feel the weight of the tears building in his eyes as his tongue nervously slipped out, wetting his lips. His hand stopped along the cat’s back, his fingers burying themselves into the cat’s comforting fur.

“Mittens?” Matt asked softly.

“Yeah,” you said. “Like boxing mitts? Since your father was such a great boxer. And, in your own way, I suppose you are, too. Though you don’t technically wear mittens out at night–but you probably should in winter time because you’re always freezing out there.”

Matt huffed out a laugh just as a single tear slipped out of his eye. Before he had a chance to discreetly try to wipe it away, you’d already noticed it. He heard the way you sucked in a breath, your back straightening on the couch beside him. And then it was your soft fingers on his cheek catching the tear, wiping it away. His eyelids lowered as he leant into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No,” Matt replied quickly. “You didn’t. I uh, I think that’s a great idea, actually.”

“You do?” you asked.

Attempting yet again to swallow that lump in his throat, Matt nodded against your hand. “Yeah, I love it,” he whispered. 

You leaned in towards him, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek where the tear had fallen. Matt’s lips curled upwards in a smile at the feel of them against his skin, so soft and warm. When you pulled away, you placed a sweet kiss to his lips next, lingering against them for a moment. Once again Matt’s heart felt like it was swelling in his chest, a whole well of emotions building within him that he was struggling to keep down.

You focused your attention down onto the cat next, your hands gently stroking the top of the cat’s head. Matt smiled when he heard the soft coo you spoke to the cat with.

“What about you?” you asked him. “Do you like Mittens?”

The resounding purr that began so soon after you’d asked the question seemed to be his response.  

“Sounds like a yes,” Matt whispered.

You giggled, still focused on petting the cat as you enthusiastically continued to chat to him, trying out the new name. Mittens seemed content with the name choice and the attention, purring even louder as he curled up further against Matt’s leg. 

But while you were currently very focused on the cat, Matt was focused on you. That warmth in his chest only seemed to grow even more as he sat there, listening to your cheerful and bright voice as you spoke. He couldn’t fight the smile that gradually returned to his face at what you’d said just a bit ago.

Family. That word meant a lot of things to Matt, but it was something he’d felt like he’d never truly had ever since he’d lost his father. Even if his mother was only a few blocks away at Clinton Church, it wasn’t quite the same thing, not with the history between him and Maggie. Foggy’s family had honestly been the closest thing Matt had ever had to a family, but he’d only met them when he was grown and in college. But still, he’d never truly felt like he’d had a family of his own, one that he belonged to.

Not until now. Because you were right, the three of you were a family.

Matt drew his coffee mug back up to his mouth, his mind suddenly and very surely made up as he took another drink. Monday he’d tell you he was working late on a case so you wouldn’t expect him home at the usual time. And then he’d finally ask Foggy to go help him pick out a ring.

[aurosoul]

I had a big ‘Everything Is Art’ moment when I was helping my friend’s dad with some house-building tasks

I was screwing in wall outlet plates and got asked whether the slots on the screw heads were meant to be vertically or horizontally aligned

I said “I don’t think it matters” - because why would it? that’s such a small detail. surely no one notices every screw head in their home

but the friend’s dad overheard and started laughing. “it matters,” he said. “you’re an artist - surely you understand? we’re doing vertical positioning.”

and it just clicked for me. of course it mattered - the house was artwork I was collaborating on and everything had design, from the position of screws to connections of the side paneling.

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 5

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; will eventually contain very graphic descriptions of smut;

Chapter Summary: In which Simon's neighbor goes on a date but still ends up on his couch...

Word Count: 2.4K

One dull, oddly quiet evening, Simon Riley had decided to cook dinner for the first time in months.

Although his wound had healed considerably in the past few weeks, he knew he wouldn’t be ready to apply for medical clearance just yet, the base’s doctor preying on any sign of physical or mental discomfort like a hawk. His limp had been reduced to an occasional stumbling when his leg gave out, only problematic after long walks or if he missed his daily stretches.

The boredom of the current routine (or lack thereof) was a disease spreading through his bones, consuming his mind and slowly killing him bit by bit. He found himself seeking comfort in his neighbor's own ordinary habits, picking out singular sounds and signs of Riley’s activities in her flat: feeding the pets, the incessant scratching noises and whines from the pup, the way she sweetly comforted them even when they misbehaved. She left early in the morning, and regardless of her attempts to do so quietly, Simon’s line of work had made him a terribly light sleeper. When she returned in the evenings (seldom earlier than 18 o’clock), he unconsciously sighed with relief, happy that the usual racket would prevent him from being solely accompanied by his dark thoughts. When he finally heard her lay in bed late at night, he felt as if he was back on the field, studying the enemy, listening to either her soft snores of exhaustion or her tossing and turning on the sheets, deep sighs of frustration echoing his own.

He had barely started chopping up vegetables when he heard an anxious knocking on his door that night, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had heard her frantically move about after she’d returned from work, quick steps pacing back and forth as even Milo’s uneasiness made itself heard through constant meowing.

He wiped his hands on a clean cloth before reaching for the black facemask near the entrance, unlocking his door lazily. There, stood Riley. In a dress. With makeup on.

His body immediately stiffened at the sight, eyes drifting up and down, taking in the details as fast as humanly possible. He unconsciously took a step back, his leg faltering as he tried to pretend to be unbothered by the way the elegant garment enveloped her curves (that her oversized clothes had hidden for so long), the modest length to her knees doing poor work of concealing the soft flesh of her legs.

As his eyes quickly drifted up again, his pupils widened as he fixed his gaze on a generous cleavage, completely unprepared for the plumpness of her breasts. He gulped silently as he struggled to keep his eyes on her face, until he noticed how carefully she had drawn on some eyeliner that made her eyes stand out, mascara building long, dark lashes that somehow complimented her small freckles.

“What do you think?” she asked, smiling, giving him a shy spin before tucking her arms behind her back and shrugging awkwardly. Her heels were noisy against the old floors of the hallway.

He was rendered speechless, however maintaining his usual broody facade as he shrugged, feigning disinterest. Her smile crumbled as a deep frown set on her flushed expression

“Oh no…It’s too much isn’t it?” She looked down at herself with trembling hands. “I don’t have time to change.”

“No” Simon spoke before he even thought about it, but couldn’t find himself capable of blurting out how he actually felt about it. “It’s…You’re…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to like it.” She laughed nervously, the awkward tension rising between the two as Simon’s breath quickened. “I’m going out and I just wanted to know if you could keep an ear out for pets…I have a cam in the living room to watch them but It’d be rude to keep checking my phone and-” She stopped herself as she observed Simon’s pensive expression. “I’m rambling ain’t I?”

“Where ya going?” He tried to sound casual, but his voice came out strained as he leaned against his door frame, arms crossed and chest tightened.

“Oh…my sister kind of forced me to go on this arranged date thing…it’s silly, really…” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and giggled nervously, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm.” His usual grunt returned and her shoulders slouched slightly. Simon felt uncomfortable as something unknown coiled in the pit of his stomach, making him suddenly lose his appetite.

She patiently awaited his answer, looking up at him through those long lashes.

“I’ll hear out for’em” He nodded in acknowledgement before making it to turn around and flee her perfumed scent. Lavender soap and a whiff of vanilla.

“Wait.”

Her delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist softly, giving him a way out of her grip if he wished to. He felt himself shiver as he looked back at her.

“Thank you, Simon. I won’t be long.” Riley offered an apologetic smile before stepping back, readjusting her purse on her shoulder.

He couldn’t even speak as he watched her walk away.

***

Simon had been quietly staring at his kitchen wall for about half an hour, festering.

Once he had finished preparing his homemade version of chicken fried rice - his knife practically stabbing the meat before he seasoned and cooked it - he uncorked a bottle of wine, pouring himself a large glass, trying to quiet his racing mind.

Who could she possibly have a date with? The young woman was practically slaving most of her days at work or taking care of on coming and going pets she sheltered. Even if she was telling the truth, and the date had actually been arranged, he still found himself bothered with how well she’d dressed up for something “silly”.

Why do you care? he asked himself, frustration bubbling in his chest. I don’t - a part of him replied.

What if she brings him home? What if I hear them in her bedroom tonight?

He startled as he heard the glass between his thick fingers begin to crack, taking a deep, calming breath as he eased the pressure around it.

“Fuckin’ hell” he muttured, shaking his head as he made way to sit on his couch, downing the drink in fast gulps as he turned on a football match.

Just as he was about to doze off, his eyelids hanging low as the sleepiness from the alcohol enveloped his body and soothed his mind, he heard quiet, sneaky footsteps echoing in the hallway. He frowned as he heard the keys dangling next door, taking a quick look at the time on his phone. She hadn’t even been gone for an hour.

Simon groaned as he carefully stood up, reaching for his facemask as he heard the puppy whine and bark, intending to use it as an excuse to go check. His stomach knotted as he considered the possibility of catching her with someone, but he quickly buried those feelings down, his face utterly calm and collected.

Riley hadn’t even fully closed the door yet when he quietly reached her threshold, knocking softly and startling her.

“Fuck…you scared me.” She sniffled, quickly wiping away tears as she tried to force a smile, throwing her heels on the corner. “I thought you’d be resting, didn’t wanna bother you.”

Simon took a few seconds to process her distressed demeanor, stepping inside slowly and casually sticking his hands in his pockets. His head cocked at her puffy eyes and reddened, wet cheeks, her eyeliner ruined as it had completely smudged on the corners.

“Riley-” He started, his tone soft.

“It rained tonight, it was an awful idea to wear heels.” She scurried off to her kitchen, grabbing Milo on the way and kissing his forehead as he purred contently. “Were they too noisy?” She asked as Rex began whining at Simon, begging for his attention.

“No, but I-”

“Great!” She forced another smile while she refilled the pets’ bowls, bare feet on the cold floors. She wiped some snot off her nose as Simon bent over to pet the puppy, his massive hands easily covering the pup’s entire head as he scratched his ears gently. “Thank you so much for helping out.”

“S’nothin. I didn’t really do anythin’.” He shrugged, concern growing in his chest at her odd behavior.

“I still owe you that cake, you know.” She pointed out shyly “I haven’t forgotten, I promise…I’ve just been busy.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He nodded gently and she sighed deeply, trying to avoid his lingering gaze. “Riley…”

“It’s nothing. I promise.” She sniffled again, smiling apologetically at him.

He stood in silence for a few minutes, weighting her words.

“What happened?” He asked, stepping closer until they were face to face, and she had nowhere to escape.

She looked down at her feet as silent tears ran down her freckled cheeks, remaining silent.

“Did he hurt you?” Simon’s voice came out colder than he intended to, fists clenched beside his body, trying to contain the anger that began boiling in his blood.

“No, it’s just…” The young woman covered her face with her hands. “So embarrassing.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter, seriously, I’m just being sensitive as per usual.” His heart sank at her trembling voice and the way she anxiously began fidgeting with her necklace.

“Tell me.”

“Simon…”

Simon took a deep breath, pondering if it was really worth pressing the matter when she didn’t seem willing to talk about it, opting for another route instead.

“I made chicken fried rice for dinner.” He felt his face warm as her smile grew, this time genuine.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He lifted a hand to her face, wiping away a tear with his calloused thumb and secretly appreciating the way she discreetly leaned against his touch, comforted. “Wanna try it?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m starving.” She sighed in relief as Simon let out an amused grunt.

“Language, kid. There’s children present.” He pointed to the pets and she giggled, two dimples returning.

“Let me get some ice cream!” She rushed to the kitchen and Simon gave Milo a pat on his fluffy head.

“I opened a bottle o’wine.”

“A recipe for disaster.”

***

“This is so good!” Riley Thomas spoke with her mouth full as she sat comfortably on her neighbor’s couch, happily savoring the warm meal he had provided.

Whereas Simon was barely teetering on the edge of tipsiness - a couple glasses of wine in - the young woman was undeniably drunk, softly moaning every time she took the fork to her mouth.

“You’re sloshed.” Simon shook his head in amusement, barely containing a chuckle.

“I’m really not!” She protested, giggling at his accusation.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“And you love me for it.” She winked playfully, making his eyebrows raise in genuine disbelief at her newfound confidence, most certainly alcohol fueled.

“Feelin’ cheeky, are we?” He chuckled, entertained, as well as very relieved she was feeling better about whatever ailed her before.

Riley Thomas set the bowl down, leaning back on the plush couch and lazily pulling her knees towards her chest. Simon gulped silently, doing his best to politely avoid staring at the exposed skin of her thighs where the dress had bunched up.

“I think I feel lighter. Cozier too.” She gave him a dazzling, careless smile, eyelids low as her tiredness became apparent.

“Booze will do that to ya.” He readjusted his facemask, which Riley had begged him to fully remove each time he took a sip of wine. He had refused.

“Hadn’t had a drink or two in a while.” She slurred out and Simon snorted.

“More like a drink or five, love.”

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“Calling me love.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m wine drunk Simon.” She hid her blushing face behind her palms.

“Hm.”

Riley sighed deeply. Loneliness was hitting her like a brick that night, and she found herself craving her neighbor’s attention, yearning for the soft praisal she often imagined he could give. Fantasizing about his warm hands placed on her tense shoulders, the curve of her hips…maybe even the back of her knees. She attributed those thoughts to the dry spell that had been bestowed upon her since her previous relationship, imagining she could easily think that way about any other male that gave her the right amount of attention.

Or maybe she wasn’t yet willing to admit that Simon rattled something deep within her.

The young woman’s gaze fixed itself on his half-exposed arms, a look he couldn’t quite decipher as it trailed up, and down, and then up again, until it stopped on his eyes. He saw hunger.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He warned softly, large hands gripping the armrest.

“Like what?” She asked innocently, voice laced with honey and the prospect of a very, very eventful evening. Such a tempting proposition.

Simon cocked his head to the right, in silent answer.

She shook her head, trying to push away the warmth that trickled down her body, hugging her knees as she rested her chin upon them.

“Sorry…Tough night.”

“Ya ready to talk about it?”

Riley’s shoulders slouched, her face heating at the memory.

“Well…” She huffed, tiredly. “For starters he was thirty minutes late,and because he made the reservation I didn’t want to walk in the restaurant first, alone…”

“Hm” He nodded, a sign for her to go on.

“I texted him a few times, thinking he was a no-show, and he never replied.” She rolled her eyes. “My heels got drenched from the rain and my feet were hurting like hell. When I was about to leave the prick finally showed up and guess what he said next.”

“Can’t possibly think of a good excuse, love.”

“Apparently neither could he. He just said that we probably lost the reservation already and asked me if I’d like to come over to his place.” She huffed angrily, shaking her head. “Then he got mad that I refused and…”

“And?” He urged her to go on, noticing her uncomfortable expression, the way her fingers fidgeted with her necklace.

“And I don’t wanna say what he said.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

Riley looked up at him gratefully, but decided to open up further. He was a great listener after all.

She sighed once again “He…He told me he only asked me out because my sister kept nagging him about it…and that he thought I’d be an easy shag since I haven’t…dated, in a long time.” She exhaled the words quickly, unable to look Simon in the eyes.

She missed out on his livid expression, the way his fingers seemed ready to crush the armrest as his mind was lost in murderous thoughts.

“Hm.” Was all he could muster.

“Yep.” She looked down at the empty glass, preparing to fill it up again.

“Don’t.”

“Why?”

“You’ve had enough. You’ll feel like shit tomorrow.” He advised, moving the bottle away.

“What do you care?” It came out rougher than expected, and she winced at her own words. Simon’s cold gaze made her shrink further into his couch. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I didn’t expect to be into him, or anything to happen at all. Although sometimes I do miss being touched by something other than my right hand, you know?”

There it was, the alcohol again. Simon stifled a grunt of agreement, and the sudden warmth that involuntarily gathered at the apex of his thighs again once he considered her words.

“Is it so wrong to seek a bit of warmth sometimes?” Her tone reflected her sadness, and Simon knew he was just as touch starved as she was, albeit he buried those feelings so deeply he rarely ever thought about it anymore. Until Riley Thomas had showed up, that is.

“Do you seek it?” His eyes snapped back at hers, a hand running over his blonde locks as he considered her words.

“Hm.” Was all he was willing to give.

Tense silence fell between the two as she yearned to learn more about him. What moved him. He didn’t feel capable of conceding anything yet.

“You looked…you look beautiful. That guy was a proper cunt.”

His heart melted at the sight of her smile unfolding before him, like a radiant star with dimples, a chipped tooth, and freckles.

“Thank you, Simon.” She whispered as if keeping a secret. Their secret. Simon nodded in acknowledgement and smiled too, under his mask.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad at opening up after all.

A/N: Hey y'all! I hope you guys forgive me for how long I've taken to post this! After 10 years of service my laptop decided to die, and with it everything I've ever written, which was very hard to deal with, especially considering that I needed it to finish my master's thesis. It was very frustrating to write on my tablet with a little keyboard hence why I took forever to post. Hopefully I'll find another solution soon. Thank you for the lovely feedback, keep sharing your thoughts with me ❤️

TAG LIST (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone)

@xaestheticalien @bossva @missmae3004 @yyiikes @lillysfrogsandbogs

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Rainy Days- B.Barnes

Summary: A rainy Monday spent between Bucky, his lover and Alpine.

Parings: Bucky x Fem!Reader, very brief mentions of Steve and Sam

Fic Warnings: Use of Y/N(only once), Fem!reader, soft!Bucky, Bucky dog-ears book pages, mention of the book A Little Life.

Author’s Note: There is dog-ear slander in this fic, I personally hate dog-earing book pages so it’s in here. Feedback is always welcomed and my asks are open if you want to ask me any questions. I am not taking requests at this time but I will definitely post if I ever open them.

My full Masterlist

Hope you enjoy! :)

Word Count: 970

gif not mine

It was an early autumn morning on a mundane Monday in Brooklyn. Rush hour was just starting, the sounds of the cars passing by the apartment window as well as the gentle patter of the rain were relaxing. She didn’t want to get out of bed. It was warm, the mood was just right and she was wrapped in the arms of the man she loved. Bucky was still fast asleep beside her, mumbling incoherent phrases in his slumber, sometimes catching a few words that did make sense which made her quietly giggle. 

She knew that once his nose twitched, he was starting to wake. Letting out a soft hum, he pulled his lover closer to his chest and sighed contently once feeling the weight of her head close to his heart. He was awake but was refusing to open his eyes, clinging to sleep, hoping he could find his way back to dreamland. Of course that got interrupted by the incessant meowing at the foot of their warm and cozy bed. The couple broke out of their bubble in a fit of sleepy laughter.

“Poor girl, you feelin’ left out, Alpine?” Bucky chuckled, finally opening his eyes. He had opened his free hand out to the white ball of fur, who greedily started rubbing her head on his palm. Alpine had waltzed her way up the bed and planted herself right on his chest, her tail smacking Y/N in the face as it flitted around happily. Bucky let out another sleepy chuckle when he noticed that his girl was getting assaulted by the cat’s tail. “You’re smacking your mama in the face, come here,” He patted his empty shoulder which Alpine quickly and happily took over. Now it was Bucky getting smacked in the face with her tail but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Good morning, handsome,” She smiled up at him, her voice just as tired as his was.

“Good morning, gorgeous. You okay with staying in bed all day?” Before she could answer, he kissed her lips lovingly, not caring about morning breath, just her.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else.” Alpine let out a loud meow in protest, obviously hungry. “Maybe after we feed this little gremlin,” She laughed softly before sitting up and slowly getting out of bed. As she left their bedroom, Alpine jumped right down and followed her out, Bucky sighing softly once more. He was thanking whoever sent this woman into his life. 

When she reentered the room, he took in her appearance. Her hair disheveled, the mascara that refused to come off now smudged under her eyes, her eyes bleary and still very much sleepy and her body practically drowning in his blue t-shirt. In her hands she held two cups of coffee, hers was in a mug with his face on it, which Steve had gotten her as a joke but now it was her favorite and his was in a mug with Sam’s EXO-7 wings on it, which Sam had given him as a housewarming gift, he would never admit it but it was his favorite mug.

He grunted as he sat up in bed, accepting the cup of coffee gratefully and pulling her back into his arms once she was sat down on the bed again. The two of them enjoyed the silence for a while, just listening to the rain and the cars passing by. Bucky started a quiet conversation that spiraled, the two of them talking for hours in bed, just enjoying each other’s company. Traffic was long gone, the rain coming to an end, their coffee cups empty, the music that Bucky turned on playing softly in the back. Of course it was 40s music because the man refused to listen to anything else, his guilty pleasure was Harry Styles but he never told a soul about that one.

“You wanna pick up where we left off last night?” Bucky asked her.

“Where were we?” She asked back. 

He pulled the book from his nightstand, a gently used copy of A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and opened it to the page that held the bookmark. It was a bookmark that she had made for him when she learned about his horrible habit of dog-earing pages, the design simple but it was the thought she put behind it, the color she chose the same blue as his eyes; a daffodil pressed into the paper under the laminate, his birth flower which he had learned once it was gifted to him; and the handwritten words ‘I love you, James Barnes’ sat neatly on the bottom of the bookmark. Every time he saw it, he smiled.

“Looks like we left off with going into a little bit of Jude’s backstory. You ready?” When she nodded, he began reading aloud. Smiling even wider when she nestled herself under his vibranium arm, her head resting on his chest, right above his heart, her arms finding themselves around his waist. As they read on, the rain picked up again but they didn’t seem to notice. It felt like it was just the two of them in the whole world and of course Alpine. The further Bucky got into the book, the less he noticed around him, when he finally looked away from the page, he saw that she had fallen asleep again. Soft snores falling from her slightly parted lips, her arms hanging loosely around his waist, the neckline of her(his) shirt shifted to the right and there was nothing more perfect to him than this, than the love of his life fast asleep in his arms, dreaming of their future together. It didn’t take him long to follow after her, quickly finding himself in a peaceful slumber that he only seems to get with her in his arms.

[iapislazuli]

I realized the other day that me making incessant kissy noises at my cat while patting the couch next to me is kinda the same energy as my cat desperately meowing at me for food. It’s nice to think that the sentiment of “I live with a fickle, infuriating beast that doesn’t listen to me but I love it anyways” is mutual

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — one

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

�� genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of insomnia, bank robbery, mentions of assault/violence, mentions of weaponry, depictions of death and blood, dead body

▷ word count. 3.8k // taglist. open

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FILE_01 : a thing for strays

gotham city.

[beomgyu & yn are 15, soobin is 16, yeonjun is 17.]

The incessant, distinct cry of meowing drew 15-year-old Choi Beomgyu from his warm covers and his state of sleep. (Technically speaking, it was only partial unconsciousness, but this wasn't about his insomnia.) He had long accepted the fact that good night's rests were rare in this world and with his condition, so there was less irritation and more plain curiosity in his mind. In other words, he cared very much about how a cat could meow so loud over the city’s infinite soundtrack more than sleeping.

He dragged his palms over his eyes, scrubbing away the stinging in his irises due to sleep deprivation. The dull buzz at the back of his head kept him awake constantly anyway. As he made his way toward the window, his eyelids fluttered like the shutter of a camera lens, actively adjusting to the warm glow of a light radiating from the apartment across the alleyway from him and streaming into the darkness of his.

Beomgyu peered out of the window, hand idly scratching his chest while the other leaned on the sill. It wasn't completely uncommon to see at least one person wandering the streets late at night in Gotham City. No sane person would be out, but whoever said Gotham residents were sane in the first place?

In the alleyway below, he could make out a shadowy form crouched by a dingy cardboard box at the foot of a dumpster. You knelt there before the box; Beomgyu quietly lifted his window open to hear what you were saying. You didn't look much older than he was, and you were bundled in a straight trench coat that left much to the imagination. A pair of slippers peeked out from beneath you, however, where you braced yourself against the grainy gravel ground.

"I'm not gonna — yah! I'm trying to help you, you st—" You huffed, hands raised in the air. "Sorry, that's mean of me to say."

A small laugh fell from his lips.

Your head perked up at the sound, and he mentally praised your alertness. That was a critical skill to wield here. Your head whipped around, eyes searching the alleyway, before meeting his eyes. You narrowed your own. "Have you just been there watching me this whole time?"

"Depends; how long have you been out here?" He drawled back, his upper body leaning out of the window and his elbows bracing against the window sill.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the cat in the box. "Creep."

"Weirdo."

That got you whirling around for him again, and this time, he stared at the way the amber streetlight posted just at the mouth of the alleyway illuminated your features and the feisty gleam in your eyes. There was a feline likeness to your eyes and tendencies—your posture and crouch stance, narrow-eyed cynicism, alertness and awareness. "The fuck d'you just call me?"

He shrugged with a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "You called me a creep first."

You scoffed at his teasing. This was much more fun than tossing and turning for sleep that would never come.

"Are you not afraid of catching something from the animals out here?" Beomgyu queried, now leaning his chin in the palm of his hand. He was Juliet leaning out of her window to lament her dramatic soliloquy, unaware of Romeo's presence below. His father would scoff at such a romanticized view of life, but it was all said with an undertone of cynicism anyway. "I mean, have you seen what crawls out of the gutters? Ngh," he shivered.

There was something he couldn't place in your features as you suddenly scooped the mewling cat into your arms and stood facing him. Beomgyu watched in awe as the cat began to purr and nuzzle into the warmth that your body provided. Your hand gently smoothed over its fur, even if the feline was matted with dirt and grime.

"I have a thing for strays," you said simply. On the surface, it was a quote of defiance, but beneath it all, he sensed there was something else to it.

Beomgyu's heart stuttered when you had said that and looked him right in the eyes.

As if on cue, a pair of black and white cats padded their way out of the shadows toward you. From where, he had no clue. But they circled your legs, rubbing against your sweatpants adoringly. He guessed these were yours, but he shouldn't assume simply based on their cleaner and maintained coats. (Sarcasm—that was sarcasm. He was definitely going to guess based on that.)

The apartment across the alleyway opened up at ground level and more of its warm light streamed out into the alley. A woman stood at the doorway with one hand on her cocked hip. "Yn, you know we can't…"

"Oh, but mama," you pleaded. You lifted the purring mass of fur in your arms as if it would plead your case for you. It was kind of cute, really. "Look at her."

The woman's eyes twinkled. "Ah, all right. Let me see if we have more—" Her words died upon her tongue when she caught Beomgyu's frame at his window.

He marked the spark of recognition in her eyes. He wasn't completely surprised.

"You're—You're one of the Choi kids, aren't you?" She asked. Perhaps it was less of a question than a statement, because Beomgyu had no doubt she didn't need confirmation. He and his brothers' and his father's faces had been plastered all over the society columns since birth. "Beomgyu, isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am," he said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Her head tilted to the side, and he saw the curiosity in your features, as well. It seemed you hadn't recognized him though. "You're quite polite for…" She shook her head, dismissing her previous thought. "What're you doing on this side of the city?"

Ah, and that was yet another mystery, wasn't it? Besides the mystery of his entire family, it was the fact that the Choi kids, despite hardly being adult aged, did not live at Choi Manor all of the time. Eventually, Beomgyu figured they'd all amass there once more and dwell there more frequently, but for now, he liked his dingy, crumby, little apartment in this specific Gotham gutter. Folks usually didn't expect the child of a multimillionaire to pick this dump to have his own apartment in.

But that was the strategy, wasn't it? Not only to prove people's judgements wrong, but to also let himself live and breathe and learn from his own mistakes.

Oh, and learn to deal with his insomnia on his own. So far, the only solutions he'd found were copious doses of melatonin or just caffeine. But even those things were hit or miss.

"Got kicked out," he joked.

And then he regretted it immediately afterward when he realized how real that felt. It was sticky and metallic in his mouth, like blood, and it felt too real.

You and your mother were surprisingly sympathetic and neither of you made any brash comments concerning his status, his money, his family and being "kicked out." He expected something like "spoiled brat got an apartment to himself when he got kicked out of daddy's mansion," but nothing of the sort came forth.

I have a thing for strays, your words echoed in his mind.

The doorway to your apartment seemed to open just a little wider. "How about you come over for a little hot chocolate?"

Despite it being the beginning of summer, hot chocolate sounded nice. (Hot chocolate and company sounded nice.)

Beomgyu's eyes subtly flickered over to you, expecting some kind of catty objection, but even you stayed quiet, your eyes peering up at him. Waiting. I have a thing for strays.

"Okay," he swallowed. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

[3 years later.]

"You're a little young, don't you think?"

Nineteen-year old-Choi Soobin's head perked up at the question posed toward the current interviewee. Your name was Ln Yn, according to the manilla file folder of your records, application, and supplementary materials—all of which were quite good for someone of your age. When you presented yourself before the panel of interviewers for the opening of a job here at Choi Enterprises, you had done so with perfect posture and a professional vocabulary. You acted a lot older than your age, which was why Soobin thought that question was so goddamn absurd.

You didn't even fidget, all to your credit. You didn't shrink once under the stares of the interview panel, plus Soobin. He was just there to observe and learn, but he was given permission beforehand to step in if he felt any desire to. "Pardon?"

The man who had posed the question was one of Soobin's least favorite people here. Along with a balding head, he had a balding personality. Balding of what? Balding of humanity. He elaborated, "You've only just graduated from high school, you have yet to even begin a college degree. Do you not believe that you could learn and experience a little more?"

You cleared your throat. "With all due respect, sir, the hiring page said that this was an entry level job."

Yeah, Soobin thought to himself, that's what they always say. You must have been surprised by the extensive hiring process for said "entry level job." He really needed to have a talk with the people in Hiring and Recruitment; he picked up the pen tucked behind his ear to note it down in his little notebook to remind himself later.

"And yet, we also prefaced the description with a college degree requirement," added another member. Soobin begrudgingly admitted that that was true.

"I don't believe a college degree is particularly necessary for secretarial work, especially when most of the duties will be taught to me on site."

That is also true, he thought. Professional, calm… blank. You'd fit in great here.

"It would be difficult for partners and businesses to take a girl like you seriously—"

Soobin leaned forward and sent a look down toward the idiot who decided to open his mouth again. He sounded like he had a stick up his ass; Soobin wouldn't be surprised if he did. His posture said otherwise, but his attitude? Jesus fucking Christ. He cut in, "Excuse me."

As his father had told him time and time again: Sometimes you have to do things yourself.

The room shifted its attention to him. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his hand raised slightly with his pen, gesturing vaguely. "Your age is not really the main concern, Miss Ln. Not for me, at least." Your eyes had narrowed slightly on him, and he straightened in his chair. "The concern is that, while your résumé and references are good, your experience is lacking. This would be your first corporate job and we're looking for someone who could reliably carry out what we have outlined their duties to be."

That was how it should have been worded. That was how his father would have worded it.

"Then based off my references, Mr. Choi, would it not be safe to say that I am a reliable person?" It was definitely safe to say that you knew your way around words and requirements. There was a defiance about you that he couldn't deny, something rare that prodded at the back of his mind. It told him that if he didn't snatch you up now, someone else would.

When the interview ended, Soobin tucked the pen behind his ear once more. It was customary for interviewers to wait until the interviewee had left the room before they could leave, as well. They would think over their notes tonight before coming to a decision on all of the candidates tomorrow morning.

That feeling pricked at the back of Soobin's mind as he stood from his seat and hustled over to the elevator. He went down to the lobby, where he spotted you just pushing out the main glass doors.

"Miss Ln!"

Your head perked up at the sound of your name being shouted over the hustle and bustle of the Gotham City streets. Strands of your hair, windswept under the forever-overcast sky, blew across your face and you reached up to brush them out of your eyesight as you marked the young Choi heir making his way over to you. He was tall—perhaps around six foot or taller—with a crisp suit and that blue ballpoint pen behind one ear. The dark circles rimming his dark eyes were charming like his black bangs swept up by the breeze.

You didn't know what to say to him, really, but here you were—stopping and awaiting his thoughts. Soobin was grateful you did. There was something irking him about you, something he couldn't put his finger on. Anyone else would have stopped him, begged him for the position. He was younger, impressionable, a Choi.

You waited.

"I just wanted to say," he said, nodding, "good luck." He choked out the words, not because they tasted bitter on his tongue, but because he hadn't even known why he had chased you down in the first place.

Your eyes glanced at him up and down, but you were nodding back at him. You suddenly looked so uncomfortable in that formal wear. "Thank you."

Soobin heard the distant cries of his name from down the street—aw fuck. Just as he ducked back into the building, you had disappeared into the crowd. He hoped he might see you again.

[1 year later.]

"H-he has a young woman in ther—"

"Sick," twenty-one-year-old Choi Yeonjun said, patting the man on the head. The bank teller quivered like a leaf in the wind in the presence of Gotham's Red Hood. "Thanks, man."

As Yeonjun stepped over the fallen bodies of his victims—they didn't even deserve the label of "victim" when they had been the ones robbing this joint—he replaced the cartridge of his pistols. They were twins, pearl handles with just a touch of gold that he loved to twirl around in his hands. His father always rolled his old man eyes when he showboated, but Yeonjun never thought of it as showboating, rather an art. There were moments where he preferred the heft and damage of an AK-47, but his babies were always there for him, too.

He adjusted the crimson mask seated securely over his entire face; the metal was warm with his breathing, but he had gotten used to the suffocating feeling.

His old man would murder him if his face was seen while he was "serving justice" or whatever.

It was a shame that this last dude had taken a hostage though. That meant traumatized victim, a much more careful shot needed, and a whole lot of—

"Fuck you!"

He stopped clean at the threshold of the main vault at the back of the Gotham Bank (yes, the so-called "joint") as he watched the young woman in question, you, twist your captor's arm behind his back and pin him to the ground beneath the sole of your three-inch heel. He had gone red in the face, him and his bald ass head.

What a view. Yeonjun whistled lowly before he could stop himself.

Both heads looked up to watch him walk in. He caught the way your shoulders tensed at the sight of him, and he opened three of his fingers in each hand and showed his palms like his own way of raising his hands. "Hey, darlin', we're on the same side."

Your hair fell in disarray around your head and face, and your mascara had smudged around your eyes, but it didn't discount the sharp narrowing of them. "What took you so long? Aren't you supposed to be the hero or something?"

"Okay, first of all, I'm not a hero—" he blinked and sent a bullet through the robber's upper thigh. You shrieked, leaping away from him and Yeonjun, who suspected that you now thought of him as a maniac. Good. "—I'm just the dude who's trying to serve justice or something."

Yeonjun holstered his two baby pistols into the holsters on either side of his belt. "And second, that was—"

The sharp cry of sirens pierced the air, and he could hear the caws of incoming cops and their thundering footsteps heading right toward his and your location. Yeonjun swore under his breath, his instincts kicking in.

"Well, that's my cue to leave." He whirled on his heel and saluted you. "See ya!"

He ducked into the shadows of the hallway just outside the vault, and waited for the police to run past him with their blaring walkie talkies. They would find you in the carnage, no gun in sight, but with a wounded bad guy at your feet and a bullet hole in his thigh.

Yeonjun's head thumped back against the wall; he bit his lip beneath the mask. Fuck it, you were gonna be fine.

He had thought that, and yet, here he now sat, lounging in the passenger seat of your car in the alleyway by the bank, biding his time. His mask and dark brown leather jacket laid discarded at his booted feet, his aching arms given breathing room through his white muscle tee. He stretched out the kinks in his neck, hand running through his damp, black hair.

He was waiting.

Literally waited an hour and a half. Or maybe it was just half an hour. Sue him, he was hungry.

Finally, you rounded the corner to the symphony of your car unlocking. It gave a delightfully loud chirp and it knocked the drowsiness right out of his brain. Thank god there was still some light out or else you might have screamed. Instead, you stopped right outside your car, in front of the windshield with your eyes wide. (Actually, you didn't feel like the "scream in fright" type. It was more like "inhale sharply.")

Yeonjun didn't know what he was doing, to be honest. Then again, he never knew what he was doing. He smiled lazily at you and gave a small wave.

You must have had some kind of death wish, because you approached the car with him still in it, and he hadn't even introduced himself yet. Or maybe, he didn't have to introduce himself.

Your eyes narrowed again for the second time he had seen you. Was that your tell? Your thing?

Carefully, you tugged the driver's door open, but remained behind it and did not get in with him. Smart girl. "What the hell do you want and how the fuck did you get in here?"

"You kiss your mama with that mouth, darlin’?" He teased before he could stop himself. What could he say? He was a "shoot first, ask questions later" type of guy. His father hated that about him.

"Why are you in my car?"

He shook his head and let out a noise akin to feigned exasperation. "Just tryin' to make sure they didn't give you shit."

"I didn't see you in the bank, Choi Yeonjun."

Bingo. He smiled. "I like to be noticed when I wanna be noticed."

Your head cocked to the side. "I guess I believe you." You gestured to him vaguely with a lazy hand. "D'you mind?"

He sat up in the passenger seat and gestured his hand back toward you and the driver's seat. Maybe if his smile had widened, your eye would have twitched. There was something so amusing about him gradually frustrating you. "No, not at all."

Your pretty eyes rolled; he laughed.

"Okay, okay. Got the message." He briefly raised his hands in mock surrender, then leaned down to collect his red mask in the fabric of his brown leather jacket. He hadn't even bothered to remove or hide his pearl-handled pistols from his side holsters as he removed himself from your car.

A smirk flickered to his lips—out of your sight, of course—when he heard you sputter, "Wait—"

"Later, darlin'!" And then he was gone, out of your sight, as if he had been only a shadow from your memory.

You wondered if this day could get even weirder or even worse than it already was.

Exhaustion coursed through your veins as you slipped into the driver's seat and pulled out onto the main street. First, it was the strange email you'd received about a problem with your bank account. Then, it was whatever that interaction was. Choi Yeonjun as the Red Hood? Or perhaps only covering for one of the city’s resident vigilantes? But then, for what reason? If not for all of the trouble, you would have been home already; your joints loosened at the thought of coming home to your mom, pets, and something warm for dinner.

Brain muddied like a Gotham gutter during the wet season, the last thing that you wanted to worry about right now was how a Choi heir was connected to a vigilante.

When you arrived on your street, you pulled into the alley beside your complex and pushed back out into the grainy, Gotham evening.

Your head cocked to the side at the sound of loud meowing. As you approached the door, you could hear scratching from the other side.

Strange. Your cats usually knew to not scratch the doors anymore, and why wasn't your mom getting them to stop?

With a reprimand on your lips, you pushed your way in. “Guys, who is…”

A scream was left caught in your throat.

You felt yourself stumble forward into your home, the floorboards patterned in bloody paw prints, multicolored fur swarming your legs and meowing at you in distress.

Out—had they been trying to get out?

“Mom?” Your voice sounded strangled. “Mama?”

Bile crawled up your throat and your palm slammed against the side wall to keep yourself upright. You couldn’t get your eyes off of your mother’s taut and ashen skin, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, a bullet hole through her temple. Blood seeped into the floorboards to stain the wood beneath her limp body, and you were choking, hacking at the metal filling up your lungs.

You stumbled toward her body and blood oozed into the material of your pants as you knelt by her body to feel for her pulse.

Dead. Deaddeaddeaddead.

Your hands stained with your mother’s crimson life force stained your hands and trembled as you searched your body for your phone. You—what were—what was the number? Who did this? This couldn’t be real.

Blood rushed into your ears; you couldn’t hear the sirens, couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the phone.

Your mind had gone blank, mouth dry, and you sat down on the ground next to your mother’s body, your tears slipping down the slopes of your cheeks to land on her own face.

Dead, how could she be dead? How was this real?

A mass of fur appeared in the corners of your vision and you followed their gaze back toward the front door. And for a chilling moment, you were stone-cold sober. There was a note staked into the doorframe: A Debt Repaid.

a/n: pls remember to comment and reblog!

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[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 24 - tattoo artist

pairing: tattoo artist!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you come home to your husband and daughter

word count: 1186

warnings: you have a daughter, lots of kid stuff, mention of pregnancy and marriage and also you have a cat

spence-tober masterlist

Coming home from work used to be a dreaded part of the day for you, back when you were living alone in an empty apartment that didn’t feel like home. No roommate, no pet, no one to greet you or be happy when you walk through that door.

Coming home didn’t feel like that anymore. Not since you had started dating the love of your life.

It had forever changed. You worked longer days than your tattoo artist boyfriend, Spencer Reid, and so more often than not, Spencer was there to greet you when you walked in after a long day. Whether that was him fixing dinner in the kitchen or sitting in his beloved armchair doodling more tattoo ideas, you weren’t coming home to a lonely apartment.

Then one day, you didn’t just come home to Spencer, but to him holding a small gray and white emaciated kitten in his tatted up arms. He had found the kitten on his walk to work and had kept it near a heater in the shop all day long, finally bringing it back to your shared apartment when no one claimed it. Now, you came home to a little kitten pawing at your pant’s leg.

The kitten, named Walter after Spencer’s middle name, grew up, you and Spencer grew closer and soon got engaged and married. Now he was your tattoo artist husband and it wasn’t long after you got married that you both had decided to expand your family even more. It started with all three of you moving into a larger apartment and then trying to get pregnant. After a full year of trying, you fell pregnant and subsequently gave birth to your daughter, Luma. 

Suddenly, you didn’t just come home to a cat meowing at you as you walked in the door or to your husband showing you a tattoo design, but a small child who would laugh joyfully as you ran to hoist her up into your arms.

However, today when you walked through the front door of your brownstone home, the only thing to greet you is Walter. You close the door behind you and hang your keys and coat up. Then you give a small cat treat to Walter to stop his incessant whines for attention.

A giggle echoes out from the hallway leading out of the combined kitchen and living room. You follow the sound, your work shoes clicking on the wooden floors, and are led to your daughter’s room.

“Hello?” You call out, being sure to knock on the door before entering.

You and Spencer were trying to teach your now five year old daughter privacy and were trying to instill knocking before entering.

“Mommy!” You hear a small, light voice call out. You open the door fully now and a smile grows on your face at the sight.

Luma has a matching bright smile on her face as she slips off her pretty purple canopy bed and rushes with her little legs towards you, hugging your legs once she gets to you.

“Hi, baby!” You greet her, removing her hands from your legs and bending down to properly hug your daughter.

She’s been sick for the better part of the week and was finally on the mend. Per the school instructions, you still needed to keep her at home for today and you and Spencer had been taking turns calling off from work to stay with her.

Today, Spencer stayed home with your daughter and you certainly could tell she was in better spirits than the days prior. 

Judging by your husband who was in your daughter’s bed, which is much too small for his thin, tall frame, Spencer had been through a lot today. Not that he ever minded.

His hair was put up in small ponytails with thin plastic elastic bands and there were discarded towels on the floor which meant that they had a spa day. Spencer also had his arm propped palm side up on a pillow with his sleeve up as far as it could go.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” You ask your daughter.

The both of you have learned to never assume the intentions behind your child’s actions. 

“We’re playing!” She simply says, still snuggled into your arms. When she got sick, which wasn’t often, she got clingy. Much like your husband when he fell ill.

You look to Spencer for a more clear answer, “Tattoo shop.” He clarifies.

“Ah,” You say, still holding onto your daughter. When she was a baby, you would often take her to Spencer’s shop as a surprise and then as a toddler and now, it was one of her favorite places in the world.

A closer glance at the bed would allow you to see some doodled hearts and circles on your husband’s arm and some washable tattoo markers lying on her duvet.

You should have known, Luma’s favorite game was Tattoo Shop where she would doodle on your arms or legs. At first, you let her do it with crayola marker, but after that one time she found a sharpie, Spencer had gotten her some washable kid tattoo gel pens to use.

“Look at Daddy’s arms!” Luma said, taking her small hand in yours and tugging you closer to her bed. On your way, you shuck off your shoes clumsily.

“I see, baby, you did such a good job!” You praise her, smiling as you look up and down your husband’s decorated arms.

At first, Luma would just draw random doodles usually over Spencer’s already existing tattoos. But now, she would incorporate them and work around to make it look ‘cohesive’, a fairly new word she learned after watching Project Runway with the two of you at night.

You lean over your husband’s arm and give him a sweet kiss in greeting and then thumb over the skin on his wrist that holds your matching tattoos. Ones you got in honor of the birth of Luma. A small little lightbulb that sat on the inside of your wrist.

“How’s your day been?” Spencer asks you, propping himself up a little bit more on the bed.

Before you can answer, Luma joins you in her bed and gently pushes down at her dad. 

“Be careful! Don’t move.” She tells him. Spencer nods and settles back into the bed as you hold back a chuckle.

“It was good,” You answer, “Glad to come home to you two!” You tickle Luma a little bit and laugh with her giggles. 

“I hadn’t gotten the chance to start dinner yet.” Spencer informs you, he nods to his arm which he is not allowed to move.

“That’s okay,” You say, then turning to your daughter, “How about we order pizza?” You ask her.

She cheers and all of you laugh in the room. “I’ll place the order in a little bit.” You say, settling yourself back into the bed a bit more.

You take your hand and pull up the sleeve of your long sleeve shirt and show the clean slate to Luma.

“Now, do you have time for another appointment?”

a/n: this was super fun and quick to write! i've been writing half of it during the day and then half at night, but i finished this super quick since i already knew the ending and so i don't have to stay up late tonight! woohoo!

[seokka0o]

┈┈┈ ֺ ࣭ 𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔞 ࣭ ֺ ┈┈┈

🎃 ᴅᴀʏ 17

sᴏᴍɴᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ

Nakakita Yuma 🎃 afab!reader

Warning: dubcon (?) ; unprotected sex; breeding

English it's not my first language, may have been some grammar errors

Yuma couldn't contain it. He also wouldn't deny that it wasn't in his nature to do so, but you seemed to open the door for it when you very casually said that he would have that freedom. You never give Yuma freedom, not in such an incisive way, because he will keep it to himself until the right moment for it to happen, where he would feel like it should and you don't expect it to actually happen until he does. He ended up sleeping first, you followed soon after, but for some reason he ended up waking up in the middle of the night and not wanting to use his cell phone, he just stayed there, in the silence, in the darkness, leaving his mind empty for the devil to work at will.

First there were the thoughts, intruders, you were right next to him, breathing heavily, but some low whistles that you let out made him a little more freaked out, you didn't move too much which meant you were sleeping heavily, all of this was more than enough to let him with an inexplicably hard on, so he needed to do something about it.

He didn't need too much effort, his hand slid down your body, down to your pajamas, as always shorts, so convenient, as if you was expecting him to do it. Yuma ran his hand through the gap between your legs and moved your pajamas to the side, without underwear, so convenient again. At this point Yuma, too convinced of himself, played a little with your vulva, parted your lips to explore and looked for your button as best he could. You let out a few murmurs and move subtly, but nothing too much, so he just continues, playing with you until you're wet enough, until he feels it running down his fingers, which he collects to savor your taste.

Now he has his hand down his pants, pulling his hard cock out, his heart pounding in despair. Yuma gives a good masturbation, caresses herself, pays attention, pulls the sheet away a little to see your pert ass and bites his own lip to contain any noise or desire to crush you in the slap.

"Fuck…" He whispers and then inserts his cock, after a not very incessant search, you were ready, when he penetrated your first instinct was to buck up more, you meowed softly and moved, as if you had to make him fit inside, or maybe because he didn't stop even in this condition.

Yuma stood still for a while to reason, you contracting around him, moving subtly, the meows softly and soon your head was sending the information that it was a wet dream. Yuma looked out the half-open window of the room, receiving the early morning light and when he controlled himself he began to raise his hips very slowly, sighing softly, avoiding touching too much beyond your hips so as not to lose control of the situation.

"Shit…" his heart getting faster and faster, Yuma starts to increase his speed little by little, without impact, something controlled to keep you sleeping until he reaches his goal. Your body responded considerably, discomfort began to set in as your clothes began to feel wet, but you didn't want to wake up, not yet.

Yuma was impressed with the way everything went down, with him tilting his head back again and again, some moans escaping his lips, mischievous, the fingers making a slight firmness in your ass and how that position put good pressure on his dick, however Yuma remained centered, continued movement, without much impact.

When you felt it was time to wake up he was close to the end, your body shivered at the first instance and a moan ran through your lips.

"Y-Yuma?" You moved your eyes to be able to fill them in, but it wasn't very successful as the room was slightly dark, your sensitive body was already feeling the impact of a limit.

"Fuck" when he noticed that you were awake he just held your hips now with more force and started to thrust desperately, his body pink and sweaty, Yuma was tired, so he started punching, making moans grow throughout the room, along with the noise of the impact. It didn't take you long to cum, just like him, after a few well-placed moves inside you, he was spilling his liquid, filling you completely.