#my cat stands up on her back paws and keeps her front paws in front of her while she's standing up

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

pictured: sequence of me literally achieving my greatest lifelong dream but in engage bc i can’t do it in real life yet

[billymayslesbian]

Before Lionblaze could argue, another shape burst through the billowing smoke to stand beside Squirrelflight. His eyes glared; his gray fur was matted together and stuck with bits of burnt leaf and twig. Confused by the smoke and flames, Hollyleaf almost thought she was seeing one of her warrior ancestors, until she recognized Ashfur.

Squirrelflight dropped the branch. “Help me push it into the fire!” she yowled.

Grabbing the branch in strong jaws, Ashfur thrust it past the wall of flame and into the ever-narrowing patch of ground where Hollyleaf and her brothers huddled. But Hollyleaf didn’t feel any sense of relief. There was a look in Ashfur’s eyes that she didn’t understand: the look of a cat who had just spotted an unexpected juicy bit of prey.

The branch made a bridge through the flames, but Ashfur stood at the other end of it, blocking the way to safety. Lionblaze nudged Jayfeather to his paws; Hollyleaf took a step toward the branch, then paused. She felt a cold weight in herbelly when she looked into Ashfur’s glittering blue eyes.

“Ashfur, get out of the way.” Squirrelflight’s voice was puzzled. “Let them get out!”

“Brambleclaw isn’t here to look after them now,” Ashfur sneered.

Hollyleaf felt her fur beginning to rise. What did Ashfur mean?

Lionblaze’s golden pelt was bristling, too. “What have you done with my father?” he howled through the flame.

Ashfur looked at him pityingly; his eyes were twin points of fire amid the burning forest. “Why would I waste my time with Brambleclaw?”

The main branch was too solid to catch fire easily, but the leaves on it had shriveled and the twigs were beginning to smoke. Hollyleaf realized that they didn’t have much time before their bridge to safety would be ablaze.

Squirrelflight staggered up to Ashfur. Hollyleaf had never seen her mother so angry. Her fur bristled with fury; she looked like a warrior of TigerClan. Yet it was obvious that the climb to the top of the cliff, followed by her struggle with the branch, had weakened her, and she was exhausted.

“Your quarrel with Brambleclaw has to stop,” she hissed. “Too many moons have passed. You have to accept that I’m Brambleclaw’s mate, not yours. You can’t keep trying to punish Brambleclaw for something that was always meant to be.”

Ashfur’s ears flicked up in surprise. “I have no quarrel with Brambleclaw.”

Hollyleaf exchanged a shocked glance with Lionblaze. “That’s not how it looks to me,” he muttered.

“I couldn’t care less about Brambleclaw,” Ashfur continued. “It’s not his fault he fell for a faithless she-cat.”

Faithless? A growl began to build in Hollyleaf ’s throat, but then she stopped and watched the cats on the other side of the blazing branches. Something ominous was taking place in front of her, and even with flame roaring around them she felt a sudden chill. She shrank closer to Lionblaze and Jayfeather, whose head was up, his sightless eyes intent, as if he could see the confrontation between his mother and Ashfur.

“I know you think I’ve never forgiven Brambleclaw for stealing you from me, but you’re wrong, and so is every cat that thinks so. My quarrel is with you, Squirrelflight.” Ashfur’s voice shook with rage. “It always has been.”

Horrified, Hollyleaf took a step back and felt her hind paws begin to slip on the edge of the cliff. Her head spun as lightning stabbed out and thunder drowned all other sounds, even the roaring fire. For a heartbeat she dangled over empty air, and she let out a strangled yowl.

Then she felt firm teeth meet in her scruff; blinking against the smoke, she realized that Lionblaze was hauling her back to safety. But there was no safety: only the hungry flames, and Ashfur blocking the end of the branch with fury in his eyes. Fiery sparks floated down on all three young cats, scorching their fur, and flames licked the underside of the branch; fear flooded afresh through Hollyleaf when she saw that it was already beginning to smolder.

Ashfur has to let us get out! But Hollyleaf couldn’t find any words to plead with him. What was happening here didn’t have anything to do with them, even if they died because of it.

“All this was moons ago.” Squirrelflight sounded puzzled. “Ashfur, I had no idea you were still upset.”

“Upset?” Ashfur echoed. “I’m not upset. You have no idea how much pain I’m in. It’s like being cut open every day, bleeding onto the stones. I can’t understand how any of you failed to see the blood. . . .”

His eyes clouded and his voice took on a wild, distant tone, as if he could see the blood spilling out of him now, sizzling on the burning ground. Terror burst through Hollyleaf and she pressed closer to her brothers. This cat was more dangerous than the storm or the fire, or the fall lurking perilously close to her hind paws.

Desperately she tried to step onto the end of the branch. At once Ashfur rounded on her, fully conscious again, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“Stay there!” Turning to face Squirrelflight but keeping one paw on the branch, he hissed, “I can’t believe you didn’t know how much you hurt me. You are the blind one, not Jayfeather. Who do you think sent Firestar the message to go down to the lake, where the fox trap was? I wanted him to die, to take your father away so you’d know the real meaning of pain.”

Hollyleaf ’s shocked gaze met Lionblaze’s. “He tried to kill Firestar?” she gasped. “He’s mad!”

Determination glittered in Lionblaze’s eyes, and he bunched his muscles for a giant leap. “I’m going to fight him.”

“No!” Hollyleaf fastened her teeth in his shoulder fur. “You can’t!” Her words were muffled now. “He’ll just push you into the fire.”

“Brambleclaw saved Firestar then,” Ashfur went on to Squirrelflight. “But he’s not here now. He’s not here—but your kits are.”

Squirrelflight’s eyes blazed. For a heartbeat Hollyleaf thought she was going to pounce on the gray warrior, but she knew that exhausted and in pain, her mother would have no chance. Squirrelflight seemed to realize it, too. She drew herself up, head high; she was trembling, but her voice was clear and brave.

“Enough, Ashfur. Your quarrel is with me. These young cats have done nothing to hurt you. Do what you like with me, but let them out of the fire.”

“You don’t understand.” Ashfur looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time; his voice was puzzled and petulant. “This is the only way to make you feel the same pain that you caused me. You tore my heart out when you chose Brambleclaw over me. Anything I did to you would never hurt as much. But your kits . . .” He looked through the flames at Hollyleaf and her brothers, his eyes narrowing to dark blue slits. “If you watch them die, then you’ll know the pain I felt.”

The flames crackled threateningly closer; Hollyleaf felt as if the heat was about to sear her pelt into ashes. She edged backward, only to feel the edge of the hollow give way under her hind paws. The three of them were pressed tightly together, so close that if one of them lost their balance, all three would be dragged off the cliff. Hollyleaf couldn’t control the trembling that shook her whole body as her glance flickered between the cliff and the fire.

Jayfeather was crouched close to the ground, looking tinier than ever with his pelt slicked flat by the rain. Lionblaze’s claws were unsheathed, glinting as the lightning flashed out again, but the tension in his haunches didn’t come from preparing to leap at Ashfur; it came from the effort of keeping himself on the top of the cliff.

Squirrelflight raised her head, her gaze locked on Ashfur’s crazed eyes. “Kill them, then,” she meowed. “You won’t hurt me that way.”

Ashfur opened his jaws to reply, but said nothing. Hollyleaf and her brothers stared at their mother. What was Squirrelflight saying?

Squirrelflight took a step away from them, and glanced carelessly over her shoulder. Her green eyes were fiercer than Hollyleaf had ever seen them, with an expression she couldn’t read.

“If you really want to hurt me, you’ll have to find a better way than that,” Squirrelflight snarled. “They are not my kits.”

[ddejavvu]

Could you do something for cat animangus reader x Sirius where they're older like order of the phenix older during winter time and Molly makes a comment to Sirius about him having a sweet cat and when he turns to corner he finds reader cuddled up to Remus again do to his body heat and Sirius just reacts to a "really this again?"

Things between Molly and Sirius are still frosty, but the same stuff that chills between them glazes over the windows, and the winter air serves as a healing balm while everyone huddles around the fire for warmth.

The heating systems in Grimmauld Place are functional, but ancient, and it's much easier to stay by a roaring fire than to huddle by the floor vent on one of the upper levels. Sirius has insisted, as the owner of the house and as the man unwillingly cooped up inside of it for years, that he will make the cocoa, because if he goes any longer without making himself useful he will begin yearning to touch the fatally cursed objects his mother hoarded before her demise.

Molly relents, if only to keep his callused hands away from a music box that will kill him if the tune reaches his ears.

"Oh, that's lovely," The woman coos, peering at your feline form curled up on Remus's lap in front of the fire, "Remus, I didn't know you had a cat. I thought the only one we had was Hermione's, but he's orange."

"She's not mine," Remus hums, though he drags a palm flat over your head, letting you butt into it to your own liking, "She's Sirius's."

Molly's brows scrunch; surely Remus doesn't mean the dog man that stands eerily alert at the back door whenever he hears the pitter patter of little paws on the back fence-? But when the aforementioned animagus comes into the room with a tray of cocoa, she confirms Remus's words straight from the source.

"Sirius, your cat is lovely." She muses experimentally, watching the way the man's eye twitches slightly.

"Oh? And where is the little devil-?" Sirius peers around the room, and when his gaze lands on you lounging on Remus's legs, he shoves the tea tray haphazardly onto a side table with a scoff. It makes a cacophony of sounds; most of them unpleasant as glass-on-glass tends to be, "Oh, you're joking."

"Sirius, it's warm here," Remus attempts to calm the man, but it's no use as he steals a mug of cocoa and makes a break for the staircase. You're glad to see that prison never took his flair for dramatics, but he's being a tad ridiculous. Remus keeps explaining, "You're welcome to take her if you want to sit by the fire! She's just getting warm!"

"Keep her! Keep her," Sirius calls from the ledge of the second floor, "And Moony, why don't you just take the deed to the house, too! And my things, you can steal the clothes right off of my back next time."

With a huff and a flourish that are aided by his chin-length curls, Sirius turns to beeline for his room, and the slam of a door that rattles the paintings on the wall is your confirmation that your husband will be sulking until you pad upstairs and settle on his chest.

"Well, that was fun while it lasted." Remus drawls, scooping a hand beneath your belly and hoisting you out of his lap. He sets you on your feet, and you mourn the loss of the fire's warmth.

"Go humor him, love," Remus nudges you towards the stairs, and Molly watches bewildered as you begin your ascent.

"We've been having this fight for over a decade," Remus muses, sipping at his cocoa and skillfully avoiding a whipped cream mustache, "When your children aren't eavesdropping with that extendable ear, I'll tell you about the time he found her curled up in my bed instead of his."

[hellenhighwater]

Mildly weird question for story research purposes: when your cats ride on your shoulder, what does it feel like for you?

Context: My main character has a cat who likes to ride around on her shoulder, and since it's a thing that happens frequently, I'm trying to make sure I write about it well. And, unfortunately, I do not have a cat to even attempt to test it with, so I'm going to the one person I KNOW has experience with this situation.

Specific things that would be helpful to know:

Do you have to be careful not to upset their balance, or can you more or less walk normally once they're up there?

How are they keeping themselves up there? Are there claws involved? Or just good balance?

Where's most of their weight? I looked back at some pictures/vids, and it looks like they typically ride with their front paws on the shoulder and their back paws somewhere a bit below and beside your neck, but I could be wrong.

How long can they stay on your shoulder before one of you has to take a break? Is the weight of the cat tiring, or is it pretty easy to deal with?

Anything else I should be aware of regarding shoulder cats?

Thank you SO MUCH for your help!

Oh, I can definitely answer that! One: It's waaay easier to shoulder a small cat than a big one.

For the most part, they kind of drape themselves over the shoulder; this is specifically what I've trained them to do. Cats will also "shoulder" by draping across both shoulders/back of neck, but this forces your head forward to allow room for them, and it's not comfy. Hence the trained posture. (Malice, in the early days:)

I taught Mal to jump up when I bent forward for her, and circle to face front while I stood up. She can actually do that pretty quickly. Their weight is pretty evenly distributed across the top of the shoulder and down on the pectoral, not really on the back at all. Mal sometimes hooks her back claws into my shirt near the shoulderblade, which is more about balance than weight support. Nim, who was significantly smaller, actually kept her back feet tucked up so that her feet were on the top of my shoulder. This is a significantly more ready posture than Mal's--she would have to readjust for a better foothold to jump down; Nim could leap directly off at a moment's notice. Overall, Nim had far superior shouldering skills to Mal. Malice rides like the meatball she is; I'm hoping she'll learn with age. Here's some pictures of Nim:

To give them a stable position, I do keep my back straight and shoulders back; if I have to pick something up, I will crouch down instead of bending over. If I have to bend forwards, I will put my palm up flat so that they can stand with their front paws on it and keep their body on my shoulder. Generally, I can move, walk, and even work normally. I've cooked, painted, done chores, even run. Both hands are free to use, though generally you can't lift the arm the cat is on above a T position. They don't need to use their claws for balance unless I am doing something really active. I do shoulder almost exclusively on my left shoulder, so that my dominant hand is more free.

The weight is not significant--Nim was only about 8 lbs, Mal is about 11, and because there's no grip to maintain them and they're naturally situated on the shoulder, it's easy to carry them for a long time. I used to walk miles with Nim on my shoulder. It's actually more the heat--cats run hot, and it's a lot of fur on your neck and shoulder if it's warm out. Great in the winter, though!

Notable things you might not realize--their head is in front of yours, so you can still see ear positions, what they're looking at, etc. Nim's night vision/hearing/sense of smell was better than mine, so I could tell if we were sneaking on wildlife based on her reactions and responses to things. You can also feel them tense or adjust posture before they jump or try to get down, and you can feel their tail moving. You can also feel if they're growling or purring, even if you can't hear it. If you're used to paying attention to those cues, you'll notice them while just carrying the cat normally too--Nobody could sneak up behind me if I was carrying Nim facing over my shoulder to the back.

They can jump from shoulder height but it's a hard landing. Usually if I want them down, I just kneel with a knee up, or lift a leg flat while standing so they can jump to the top of my leg and then to the ground.

If I was in a fictional setting and traveling with them long term, I would be investing in a really weird piece of leather armor, that goes to the edge of the neck/crest of shoulder, and down past the bottom of the shoulderblade, with little easy-to-grip leather loops or chainmail on the back of the shoulder.

[1800classiccherries]

Spider-cat!

⚘ Miguel x fem!reader

⚘ fluff

⚘ I don’t think there are any warnings?

⚘ summary: Y/n spends all her time with Spidercat, causing Miguel to feel little jelous.

⚘ wc: 960

“Sorry, Miguel, Spider-cat is back from a mission. Gotta go!” Y/n states, giving Miguel a quick peck on the cheek before swigging off the monitor platform and out of the room.

Recently Y/n had made a new friend amongst the spider crowd, Spider-cat, and this cat had her wrapped around his furry paw. Miguel sighs, not wanting to admit to himself that his girlfriend is spending more time with a cat than him and that he is jealous.

As Y/n roams around looking for her furry friend, she spots him down the hall, and she quickens her pace. “My baby!” she calls out, holding her arms open for the cat to jump into, “how was the mission?” Y/n inquires, getting a content meow in response. “I’m glad to hear it,” she nods, setting down Spider-cat so he can walk beside her.

~

Y/n and Spider-cat step out of the orange portal, now on Y/n’s earth. In their downtime, the two would go for swings around their Earths for as long as they could before having to go on a mission. Today was no different.

“Ready to go?” Y/n asks, looking down at the cat, who replies with a happy meow.

With that, the two swing off the fire escape they were previously on and begin their swing around the city. They were showing off their tricks and finding interesting new locations around the city. A while into their adventure, Y/n notices a hologram of a certain someone show up on her watch, causing her to pull over to the roof of the nearest building. Spider-cat follows suit, making himself comfortable, and begins making biscuits on Y/n’s lap once she sits down.

“Yes, Miguel?” she prompts, not too happy about her time with Spider-cat getting cut short.

“Are you busy?” Miguel asks, knowing she’s probably with the cat.

“Kinda off...” Y/n trails off, holding Spider-cat up for him to see. 

“I-” he starts, almost at a loss for words, “I’ll just get someone else to do it.”

Before Y/n could even say anything, the hologram disappeared. With a sigh, she looks down at the cat, who’s looking back up at her. 

“I guess that’s my queue to leave,” she gets a disappointed meow in response.

“Yeah, I wanted to keep swinging too. But I have to spend some time with my boyfriend now,” she explains, standing up and opening a portal for her and Spider-cat to go back to headquarters.

~

Now back at headquarters, Y/n makes her way to Miguel’s locations thinking as to how she can smooth things over. It’ll be fine; she says to herself as she arrives at the room.

“Heyy, spider-bae~,” Y/n says, dragging out her words as she walks toward the (painfully) slowly descending platform.

Miguel raises an eyebrow as he turns around to face Y/n, clearly unamused. She opens her mouth to defend herself but promptly stops. She opens her mouth once more to try again, but she stops. ”I have nothing to say.”

“Typical,” he deadpans, shaking his head and returning to his work.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she pouts, taking a little swing onto the platform to stand next to him.

Y/n tunnels her way under Miguel’s arm so that his arm is over her shoulder. She leans into him, looking up with apologetic eyes, hoping he looks down at her. 

“Y’know you my boo thang, right, Miguel?” she says with a slowly spreading smile.

“Boo thang?” Miguel repeats, slightly amused, looking at Y/n.

“You heard me.”

Y/n moves from under his arm to in front of him, taking hold of his hand and leaning slightly against the control panel under the monitors. Looking up at him with a look that says, ‘I’m sorry.’

“I’ve missed you, mi amor,” Miguel voices, resting a hand on the side of Y/n’s face.

Leaning into his touch, the corner of her lips turns up slightly, “I’m sorry about ditching you for spider-cat.”

Miguel shakes his head a bit, chuckling softly, “It’s not your fault; he is pretty cute.”

“Yeah, but you’re cuter,” Y/n flirts tilting her head.

“I don’t know how I feel about getting called cute...”

Thanks for reading!

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Prince Roier Hires a Faerie to Help With His Divorce (he hasn't gotten married yet)

For day two of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Fae/Kiss

-

Once upon a time...

Roier picks his way through the foliage with a grimace. His feet hurt, twigs keep smacking into his face, bugs keep flying into his mouth. This sucks, but it'll all be worth it.

Thunder rolls above, and rain starts pouring down without a second's warning.

...It'll all be worth it.

He's due back at the castle by morning, but, honestly, he'd kinda rather die than go back. If the wolves eat him, so be it!

Grumbling, he pulls his hood up over his head, and he continues onward. If he freezes to death out here, so be it!

He's not planning on going back to the castle alive, anyway.

Legend has it that, deep in the haunted forest surrounding the Kingdom of Quesadilla, there lives a man-eating witch capable of tearing a man's soul from his body before he can so much as breathe in her general direction. Nobody knows this witch's name, but everybody knows that she's totally fucked up: if she isn't eating people, she's eating bears, and her magic is said to be as destructive as the eruption that created the universe.

Roier needs to meet her now.

So he continues trudging through the woods. The lantern in his hand is fighting to stay lit, and his boots are filled with enough water to drown a rat with, but he's fine. He's going to die miserable, but he's fine.

There's a flash of lightning bright enough to blind him, and then there's a crash of thunder loud enough to make him jump and nearly drop his lantern. When his vision returns, the tree in front of him is toppled to the side, leaving only a charred and smoking stump behind.

And then there's the cat.

Roier, frankly, stares. Because... what?

It's a cute cat, at least: brown with black stripes almost like a tiger's and blue eyes so bright that they almost seem to glow in the night. It sits on the stump with its tail curled around its paws, very polite, 10/10 cat.

Hesitantly, Roier approaches. He holds the lantern up to the cat, tilts his head, smiles.

"You're so cute," he coos, bending down to pet the cat between its little ears. "What are you doing out here, eh?"

The cat yawns, and then it huffs, "I could ask you the same question."

Roier screams and recoils and drops his lantern. It goes out, but the forest doesn't grow any dimmer because the cat is fucking glowing now, okay. Okay!

The cat rolls its eyes, tail twitching. "Okay, ouch. I'm not that scary."

"You're a talking cat," Roier breathes. "What the fuck?"

"What, you were expecting the witch?"

A pause.

Then:

"Oh, come on!"

Roier finally collects himself, brushing the water off of his cloak and adjusting his hood and picking up his lantern.

The cat stands and starts pacing the stump in a small, annoyed circle.

"The witch isn't even real," it complains. "She never was! Witches aren't real!"

Roier frowns. "Fuck you, man, my best friend is a witch."

"They aren't. Witches aren't real. Magicians are real, but witches-"

"You are literally a talking cat."

"I am a faerie," the cat corrects, sounding almost pained as it does so. "Faeries are real. Witches are fake. It's all anti-faerie propaganda created by the Federation-"

"By the what?"

The cat flicks his tail at Roier; Roier's mouth shuts, and, to his alarm, he finds that he can't open it again no matter how hard he tries.

The cat angrily swipes a leaf off of the stump. Unfortunately, it is really cute as it does so.

But then it starts complaining again, and Roier decides that this annoying fucking faerie cat isn't that cute after all.

"I haven't eaten anybody in centuries!" the cat shouts. "Fucking Cucurucho..."

Roier's eyes widen.

He waves at the cat until the cat does its magic thing again and allows him to talk.

First, Roier sucks in a deep breath through his mouth. That was uncomfortable.

Then, he says, "I know Cucurucho. I'm supposed to marry him in three days."

The cat's eyes narrow. Its shadow beneath it seems to grow; it tinges itself red like a pool of water with blood in it, wow. That's almost cool.

"That's why I'm here," Roier explains. "I need the witch to kill me so I don't have to marry him."

The cat sits.

"I see," it says. "Unfortunately, the witch isn't real."

"Suuuure, but you are." Roier sneaks closer. "Can't you just-" He opens his hands and wiggles his fingers. "-magic me dead?"

The cat stares at Roier's fingers. "Um. No. Faeries can't kill."

Roier deflates. "Ugh."

With a frustrated groan, he sits on the stump next to the cat. The cat grumbles, but it doesn't, like, magic him onto the ground, so that's kinda nice of it.

"But," the cat says, slowly as if questioning itself as it speaks, "I can get you to kill for me."

Oh. Now there's a thought. But...

Roier looks to the side at the cat. "I've tried. I'm pretty sure he's immortal, man."

"You haven't tried killing him with faerie magic. Now, come here."

The cat hops off of the stump and pads into the forest. After a moment, Roier follows.

They walk until they reach a hollowed-out tree. Then, the cat hops into the tree and mutters to itself as it looks for something.

Eventually, the cat pokes its head out of the tree with an opaque brown bottle held in its mouth.

Roier takes the bottle and turns it over in his hands.

"This," the cat says, "is extract of unicorn. Mix this in with Cucurucho's food, and he'll be dead by the end of the night."

Roier's mouth twitches. It'll happen, just like that? Just like that? Decades of oppression over just. Like. That?

"Okaaayyy," Roier drawls. He looks back up at the cat with a small smile. "Thank you."

The cat responds by clambering out of the tree and lounging on a branch hanging by Roier's face.

"No, thank you," the cat insists. "You'll be doing us both a favor if you manage to kill that asshole."

"If this kills him, you'll be a hero."

"Oh, I'm no hero. I'm just..." (The cat grins with far too many teeth in its mouth.) "...an invested party."

Well, the cat is probably evil. But that's fine. So is Cucurucho, and two wrongs make a right, right?

-

Well, wrong! Because Cucurucho isn't fucking dead.

Roier stomps back to the tree stump with the faerie's empty unicorn piss whatever bottle in hand. He doesn't have a lantern this time because, frankly, he really isn't intent on returning to the castle this time. If he trips over a root and dies, so be it!

The cat is nowhere to be seen. Of course, the bastard.

"Gatinho!" Roier calls. He cups both hands around his mouth and spins in a circle and continues shouting, "Gatinho! Where the fuck are you! Come here!"

No response.

Frustrated, Roier chucks the bottle to the ground and plops onto the stump. He puts his head in his hands and groans.

"I am going to fucking die," he moans. "I can't go home, I need to die, what the fuck."

A twig snaps. A presence ghosts over his shoulder, what feels like fingers grazing his tunic. But, when he snaps his head up and turns around, all he sees is the cat sitting behind him.

Roier's eyes narrow. "You."

"Me," the cat agrees. "Did it work? Is he dead? Please tell me he's dead. He's dead, right?"

"No! He isn't! He thought that unicorn shit was edible glitter! Now he wants it at the wedding!"

The cat blinks. "Huh."

"Yeah, 'huh'." Roier huffs and turns back around and hides his face again. "Fuck you, man. You said it would kill him."

"It should've. He's a demon, right?"

"How should I know? He's a fucking bear wizard thing."

"Okay, again, wizards aren't real, magicians are. But you're marrying him, right? How do you not know what species he is?"

"It's not like I'm getting a choice in the matter," Roier spits. He glares into the palms of his hands, shoulders shaking with barely-concealed rage. "Either I marry him or he destroys the kingdom."

There's a pregnant pause as the cat takes this information in. Fair, honestly. Roier hadn't exactly told him that he's a prince. Wasn't important, still isn't important. Doesn't matter if he's a prince if he's being sold off to marry a goddamn bear like he's a common animal.

It's for the good of the kingdom, Foolish had said. He and Vegetta have always liked Cucurucho despite Cucurucho being a legendary fucking creep. It's either you or Leo.

And Roier isn't the one that's meant to take the throne after his parents die.

"Can't you just kill me?" Roier asks. He waves a hand in a random direction. "Just make a tree fall on me or something. It'll be an accident, it's fine, your faerie cops won't know."

"Um, no," the cat says. "That's fucked up."

"Don't you eat people? How the fuck do you eat people without killing them?"

"Who says I killed them before eating them?"

Ah. Sounds about right.

...Kinda cool, to be honest. Imagining a tiny little kitty cat rip a grown dude apart like he's a slice of bread. Almost funny in a way.

Roier jumps as something brushes the hair out of his face.

He jerks his head upright and glares down at the cat, now sitting delicately in front of him.

"I have an idea," the cat tells him. "Follow me."

As they walk back to the hollow tree, the cat asks, "Does Cucurucho still have that freaky mechanical sword?"

Roier thinks. "Maybe? I don't know, he kinda just sits and stares at people. Sometimes he chases the servants around with a sword? Dunno if it's mechanical, though..."

"Well, any sword will work. Hold on."

The cat leaps into the tree and comes out with a new bottle, this one clear.

Roier takes the bottle and swishes it around. The liquid inside looks like oil, okay...

"This is dragon's blood," the cat explains. "It's corrosive to the touch, so be careful. Tell him that it's a special polish for his sword. It should eat his skin to the bone and kill him dead."

"Huh," Roier says, suddenly much more careful with the bottle. He gently slides it into his pocket, makes sure it's secure between a bag of coins and his headband. "Okay. Cool."

"This should work," the cat says. "But I'll try and think of something else for if it doesn't."

"Yeah, well, it'd better work," Roier huffs. "I'm getting married in two days. Then the gods only know what he's gonna do with me."

"Trust me, we'll figure it out."

"Trust you? Aren't you some kind of evil faerie cat?"

The cat looks offended. "Excuse you, I'm barely evil anymore. All I do is read these days. Do you know how many books I have at my house? More than Cucurucho, that's for sure."

"You have a house?"

The cat visibly bristles. "Of course I have a house. What, do you think I'm homeless?"

"You are a cat."

"Not all the time!"

Oh, that's interesting. Roier can almost imagine what the cat looks like in a human form, but the idea escapes him at the last second.

"Whatever," Roier sighs. "Just kill me tomorrow if this doesn't work."

-

Roier doesn't even bother shouting as he storms up to the stump.

He sits, pulls his cloak off, tosses it to his feet, kicks it away. What the fuck!!

He doesn't so much as blink as the cat appears by his side.

"It didn't work?" the cat cries. "Really? That should've worked!"

"Yeah, well, it didn't," Roier huffs. "He wore gloves today. And Cucurucho figured out that I've been sneaking out to see someone at night, so he told my parents that we're going to move to a different castle out in the middle of nowhere. I bet he's going to lock me up, the piece of shit."

The cat's ears lay back on its head. Its eyes narrow, and its lip curls back in a clear snarl.

"I know," Roier agrees. "Fuck this guy for real."

"Fuck him."

"Fuck him!"

Roier smiles just for a second, and he even manages a brief laugh before remembering, right. He's fucking doomed. Right.

Sighing, he slumps to the side until he's tumbling off of the stump and splayed across the ground. He buries his face in the grass and screams.

To his credit, he hardly jumps as a hand firmly settles on his back and rubs it. Small circles, firm hand, big hand, it feels like, wow.

Something- a knee?- presses against Roier's arm firmly. It's grounding in a way. Almost.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," Roier whines. "Just kill me, gatinho. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to kill you, guapito," the cat says. (Roier blushes. Guapito...) Its voice sounds deeper, almost. Louder. More clear. "I can't."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Marry Cucurucho?"

"I won't let that happen."

"Why? Because you want to kill him? Because that hasn't exactly been working so far."

"Because it's super fucked up that he's forcing you to marry him. I don't give a shit about the kingdom, I don't live there. I want him dead, but I'm starting to think that he's unkillable."

The hand moves from Roier's back up to his head. Fingers sift through his hair. Woooow, that feels good. When's the last time Roier got touched this softly? Before Cucurucho arrived?

"I've been thinking," the cat continues. "I've been keeping an eye on Cucurucho for centuries, but he's never tried destroying the kingdom before now. Before you. I think that, if you're gone, then he might leave, too."

Roier cracks an eye open. He doesn't shift his head at all, so he can only just barely make out a hint of cloth. So the cat has clothes when he's a human, that's cool, Roier guesses. Makes him wonder where they came from.

"So... kill me," Roier tells him. "If it'll get him to leave the kingdom alone, kill me."

"I can't do that."

"I'm not next in line for the throne! It's fine! Just push me into the river, I can't swim."

"You can't swim? Really?"

"Well, I can, but I can pretend that I can't!"

"You are so... selfless," the cat says, sounding completely exasperated. "And stupid. No, come with me. I know how we can solve this without killing you."

The hand leaves Roier's head, and then a cold nose is poking at his cheek until he's sitting up and looking the cat right in its little kitty eyes.

"Do you still have cat eyes when you're in another form?" Roier can't help but ask. "That would be really cool."

The cat chuckles. "Maybe. Come on. I have one last thing we can try."

They go to the hollow tree, and Roier waits as the cat scrambles into the tree and surfaces with a necklace clutched in its teeth.

Roier takes the necklace and inspects it. It's a solid gold chain with a little charm that looks like a cat's head. Cute.

"What, is this evil faerie gold that will melt Cucurucho's skin off?" Roier asks.

"No, it's for you," the cat replies. "Wear it tomorrow. When the wedding reaches the climax, take the necklace off and break it."

Roier points at the cat accusingly. "You are going to kill me!"

The cat rolls its eyes. "I'm not. Just... trust me."

Trust the man-eating faerie cat, sure. Right.

Roier sighs, but he puts the necklace on, anyway. It's surprisingly warm around his neck.

The cat almost seems to smile. "You look lovely."

"This thing is going to explode and blow my head off."

"No, you'll see."

And, well. What choice does Roier have but to wait and see?

-

The final wedding preparations go by in an uncomfortable blur.

Leo comes in to hug Roier goodbye. She then punches Roier in the stomach and tells him to write to her once he's at his new house.

Jaiden comes in to help Roier finish getting ready. She's happy about the marriage because she really thinks that Cucurucho is a good person, and Roier can't help but be happy that she's happy.

Foolish comes in to walk Roierto the church. He and Vegetta each take one of Roier's arms, and they walk.

And then Cucurucho is waiting at the church in front of the altar in an all-white suit. His fur is meticulously brushed, his claws are polished, his smile is painted on, he's absolutely grotesque.

Roier hates him.

"Good morning," Cucurucho says as Roier settles in front of the altar.

"It's sunset, you fucking idiot," Roier snaps. He can say what he wants now, right? He's going to die, anyway. The cat is going to kill him.

Cucurucho laughs, and then the ceremony starts.

Roier tunes out most of the goings-on if only to keep himself from breaking down and breaking the necklace before it's time. The cat said to wait until the climax, so Roier's going to wait for the goddamn climax.

He comes back to himself as the cleric asks if anybody in the audience has any objections to the marriage.

This sounds like a fucking climax if Roier's ever heard one.

"Yes," he says. "I object!"

He tears the necklace from around his neck and throws it to the floor. Before anybody can stop him, he slams his heel into the charm.

The entire church erupts into screams as a blinding white light fills it. Magic tears at Roier's skin, biting and pulling. He squeezes his eyes shut, anticipating the end of it all.

But:

"I also object," the cat says.

Two large hands settle on Roier's upper arms, and he's pulled back and against a firm chest.

Roier tilts his head back- not too far, because the cat's human form is shorter than he is, funnily enough- and his eyes widen as he takes in the most beautiful man in the world. Long hair the same color as the cat's coat, scarred face, feathery earrings, cat eyes.

"No," Curucucho snaps. "No!"

"Yes!" the cat- well, not the cat, Roier supposes- shouts. "The prince is mine! He swore himself to me the moment he accepted that necklace, and so he will go back with me to the Faewild and become my husband. You know the rules, bear."

Leo, in the audience, cheers. So does Foolish, who always appreciates a good show.

"Gatinho," Roier hisses.

The faerie shrugs his concerns off. Roier is annoyed about this for exactly three seconds before he gets caught up in the faerie's eyes.

Could be a worse arranged marriage, that's for sure...

A long moment passes, but Cucurucho eventually says a begrudging, "Yes."

"So," the faerie continues, "you will not destroy the kingdom for this. If the prince has already been promised to somebody else, then he never rejected you."

"Yes," Cucurucho sighs.

"You're hot when you're arguing," Roier whispers.

The faerie's cheeks redden, as do the tips of his pointed ears. Cute!

Yeah, no, this arranged marriage will be way better than the last one.

"So!" The faerie turns Roier around so that they're looking at each other properly for the first time eye-to-eye. "You will be coming with me."

"Yeah, okay," Roier agrees. Hell yeah. "Take me, gatinho."

"'Take me'?" Foolish gasps. "Ooooo, this is getting spicy!"

"All you need to do is say my name," the faerie says.

He leans in close and whispers right into Roier's ear, and Roier returns the favor... with a couple of flirtatious remarks thrown in for good measure. Sue him, he's about to get married to a sexy faerie. He's going to make the most of the situation.

"Cellbit," Roier murmurs, and something tickles at his skin. Something... purple. It feels purple. Soft and purple.

"Roier," the faerie replies. He looks positively flustered, aww. He's going to be so fun to tease once they're out of the church.

As the Faewild's magic starts to pick up, Roier can't help but give the faerie a grateful kiss.

The faerie blinks away from the kiss after a moment of some very eager lip-chasing. His face is completely red, and his eyes are wide and unblinking even as the magic around them whips like the wind.

"There's more where that comes from," Roier teases. He puts his arms around the faerie and smiles. "You're marrying me, get used to it. That's just part of the deal."

Because faeries are all about deals, right? Well, Roier's the best deal this guys is ever gonna get.

The faerie swallows, an eager grin teasing at his face.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Alright."

He pulls Roier's head down for another kiss just as the Faewild swallows them whole.

-

(Legends say that there are monsters living in the haunted forest surrounding the Kingdom of Quesadilla. Once monster is a man-spider with glowing red eyes and fangs the length of one's sword. The other is a furry snarling beast of a thing with magic worthy of the most powerful of witches.

Ah, but don't worry, my child, for these monsters don't hunt humans.

No, they hunt bears, and isn't that a good thing for us?)

[hxzbinwrites]

Hi! 👋

I just read your Vox soulmate AU and I LOVED it. If you're still taking requests, could you do something similar with Husk but his soulmate has powers like scarlet witch. His soulmate is very protective and sweet on the winged kitty. Maybe throw in a kiss or two 😘.

If not, it's cool. Keep up the great work and can't wait to read more!

Husk x Soulmate! Reader | Saving Me

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Short :(

Sighing, Husk watched as Charlie and Vaggie cuddled together on the couch in the lobby. After everything, the lies and heartbreak, they still were okay. They still loved each other.

Husk has had his soulmate string for a while now, but Alastor prevented him from leaving to go chase it. It was worse than not having one at all, seeing that stupid string tug and beg for him to find his match, his other half.

His tired eyes looked down at his cup, his rag scrubbing the inside of it. He really wished that stupid damn deer would kick the bucket already.

“Husk!” Charlie said, looking over at the grouchy cat.

He raised an eyebrow, looking up at the Princess from under his eyelashes.

“Now that the hotel is revamped, do you think you could put some of these flyers out? Especially because it’s rent free!”

“I guess.” He said, taking the flyers.

————

When everyone was having dinner together, a strong knock on the door was heard.

Charlie sprinted over to the door, excited to meet a potential new client of their hotel.

The door revealed a woman standing there, an Halloween-like Witch costume on her.

“I’m here for this…’Hazbin Hotel’” She said, extending a hand to Charlie,”My name is (Y/n), I’m a witch. I was as well when I was alive, hence the costume I fell down with. I think it’s cute nonetheless.”

Charlie’s squeals of excitement alerted everyone at the dinner table. Mostly everyone was walking over to investigate, except for Husk. He sat there at the table, uninterested. Last thing he needs is some other annoying person pestering him, he’s got his paws full with Alastor’s bullshit and Angel’s hormones.

He ignored the crowd as they went to go show the newbie their room, walking back towards the bar to wash the remaining dirty cups.

“Husker~!” Alastor said, popping up out of thin air like the freak he is

Husk’s ears were pinned back against his head, his frown evident. “What?”

“You haven’t welcomed our guest!” He said, his head tilting menacingly. “I think you should.”

Husk, running a paw through his fluffy fur on the top of his head, sighed. “I gotta finish my job here first. You made me come here, you bastard.”

“Hmm.” Alastor said, glaring at him over his shoulder,”Alright! Just make sure you treat them well, you’re still on a leash, pet.”

Husk didn’t reply, just focusing on his job as Alastor met the rest of the crew at the end of the tour.

Husk looked up at the newbie, immediately dropping the class, letting it shatter on the ground.

“Husk!” Charlie said,”are you okay?!”

He didn’t reply, looking into his soulmates eyes. Finally, he finally found them. He could cry like a baby right now. He quickly walked around the counter of the bar, drowning out everyone’s concerned comments.

Everyone stopped talking when he stopped right in front of the newbie, before dipping them and kissing them deeply. Husk felt like he couldn’t bring them any closer, that nothing was close enough.

Gasping for air, he finally broke it off, smiling down at the flustered witch.

“Husk! What the hell?!” Vaggie said, scowling,”you can’t just do that! That’s assault!!”

“No…no it’s okay” (Y/n) said,”I-I found my soulmate. He’s a cute, grumpy kitty.”

Husk rolled his eyes at that last comment, before he looked over at Alastor.

He was fuming, the radio demon was clutching his staff so hard it could’ve snapped.

“Husker. I told you not to find your soulmate. It’s in your contract.”

“Well I technically found him” (Y/n) said, putting her hands on the cat’s chest. Husk knew the situation with the man who owned his soul and his soulmate was extremely serious, but he was fighting the urge not to purr.

Alastor pondered for a moment, before pulling up the contract again. He scanned over it before the witch snatched it from his grasp.

“Sorry, ‘Radio Demon’” She said, in a mocking tone,”Since our string faded away, and your ‘client’ didn’t seek me out, he didn’t go against your agreement. I own his soul now, and he owns mine. He’s no longer in your possession.”

Alastor’s smile was so tight his teeth could crack, seeing the contract rip up and Husk’s chains fizzle away.

“So? Husk was it?” (Y/n) said, grabbing his paws,”I think we have some catching up to do.”

“I agree.” Husk said, planting a light kiss on top of her forehead.

“Sorry I didn’t seek you out earlier” She said, “I-I thought you didn’t want to meet me, but I now know the truth.”

“Thank you love, thank you for saving me.”

————

Word Count: I’m lazy i’ll put it later 💀

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic january 9 - write - 946words - feat. fem!harry because i was craving girldads

(this one also esp goes out to @veryinnovative)

“Papa?”

“Yes, mon chou?” Regulus responds, shaking a curl out of his eyes to look over his shoulder as he keeps stirring.

Harrie is still bent over her artwork, crayon held in a tight fist, pigtails standing askew with half her hair falling out of them and in her little face anyways.

“Will you help me write my name?”

Regulus lowers the temperature of the stovetop to let the sauce simmer as he puts on the lid, “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

He crouches down to check the potato wedges and veggies in the oven, satisfied when they look according to the alarm he set, and gives his hands a quick rinse before he saunters over to his daughter.

The soles of his plush slippers are a faint noise against the whirring of the oven and the soft bubbling of the pot. The air smells warm and cozy with the home-cooked meal and the drying clementine peels that are still on the table from Harrie’s earlier snack.

Regulus bends over her to regard her painting, nose buried into her wayward hair, inhaling. It smells like her Strawberry Shortcake (the kid’s show) shampoo, like James’ cologne and still that distinct brand of baby that Regulus is utterly obsessed with and hopes she never loses. Well, at least as long as she’s small enough for him to still pick her up.

Harrie is unperturbed, keeps drawing little blue petals around a flower besides what Regulus assumes must be their cat, Mochi. Or maybe a very oversized ant. His little artiste.

“Can I give you a kiss?” Regulus mumbles into the crown of her head.

“Yup.” 

Harrie squeals when Regulus plants a loud smooch on her chubby cheek. She smells like grapes and walnuts there too. James must’ve packed them for her lunch in kindergarden.

She tapers off into a hearty giggle when Regulus keeps peppering kisses before he lets himself fall into the kitchen chair beside her.

“So,” Regulus says pointedly, making a show of granting her his undivided attention.

Harrie nods her head, making little, silly Mhm-mhm-mhm noises. Like she’s trying to convey the importance of what follows. Or like she has a tune stuck in her head. Regulus bets his money on both.

He grins, tucking a strand behind Harrie’s ear that just falls right back into place. “Where do you want your name?”

A tongue pokes out of the corner of his daughter’s mouth and she turns her pen to point at the top edge with the end of it, “Right here.”

“Alright.”

Harrie chooses another color for her signature and then they begin to write together.

“An H. Huh—as in house,” Regulus makes, Harrie repeating the sound automatically. “Two straight lines down and then one across the middle. Good job.”

“Then Ay,” Harrie continues. The beginning of the alphabet she’s already got memorized.

“That’s right, mon chou.”

“Ha-rrr.”

“An R—that’s a straight line, with a bump on top and a leg on the bottom. That’s it. We need another one of those, remember? Your name has two.”

Just as Harrie sets onto the next letter Regulus hears a car rumble up into their driveway, head instinctively swiveling around to the window.

When he looks back down the second R isn’t entirely correct. “Whoops—look, this one has its leg on the wrong side, honey.”

“Oh,” Harrie makes, eyebrows rising, and she goes to grab her eraser.

She corrects her letter and then proceeds to draw the I without prompting from Regulus, adding a wonky heart on top.

“Good job. And an—”

“E–like eeeraser,” his daughter sings, adding the three horizontal lines to the last letter, right as Regulus hears a keychain jingle against the front door.

Harrie is now drawing a little star next to her name as James comes into the kitchen with Mochi in his arms, a leaf sticking to his paw.

“Daddy,” Harrie yells, scrambling down from her chair and hasting into James’ arms, Mochi already fleeing for his cat tree, presumably.

James hums delightedly, smiling as he squeezes their daughter to his chest, “Mm, mi amorcito.”

He’s still in his coat and beanie from outside, glasses fogging up—though luckily for him, he’s had the mind to slip out of his boots at least.

Harrie rubs her palms along James’ stubbled jaw when they pull apart, making him chuckle. “Missed me?”

“A little,” Harrie shrugs.

“Oh, only a little, huh?” James challenges, whisking Harrie up and whirling her around in the air, twirling himself and making her scream with joy.

He sets her against his hip after he successfully lost one of her hair ties on his little escapade, never to be found again or for Mochi to play with.

“Smells amazing, love,” James says warmly, gazing at Regulus before helping Harrie gently pull out the other hair tie too.

Which reminds him Regulus to check on the sauce again. 

He smiles sweetly at his husband and wanders back over to the counter, grabbing the lid with a kitchen mitten and stirring the thickening sauce as he gets hit by its savoury tang and hint of black pepper and parsley.

At his back he hears Harrie and James babbling, conversing about something or the other as she takes her seat again. Something about finger paints and Ron and tea cup and pee accident.

Regulus is just stretching to get some plates when there’s strong arms wrapping around him from behind, prompting his lips into another immediate smile.

“Mi vida,” his husband mumbles, pressing a soft kiss behind Regulus’ ear.

James is warm and smells like caramel latte and outside air and the same hint of cologne found in their daughter’s hair.

[to-myalphonse]

HEMLOOO can I request lyney x gn!reader who is shy and lyney just keeps on teasing them? I swear that boy is a FLIRT

I usualy don't know how to do pick up lines, so I did my best.

Sorry for the wait, I've been busy

"Can I pick you up too?" He laughs leaning against the pole on the railing. You were leaning over the railing trying to catch a flyer that flew up. You didn't realize you almosr flew over, until a person pulled ypu back over.

The people around you laugh as you look away. Before you could blink, he pulls out a rainbow rose.

"For you darling." You could the chesire grin as he leaned in closer. Your face lit up red as you tried to back away. Your back hit the railing as his hand sat itself next to your arm.

"What's wrong, stage fright?" You could hear the cooing from thr old couple passing through.

"I remember when you used to do things like that for me." An elderly woman clutched onto her husband. His returns her smile kissing hwr on the forehead.

"Hey, this is not time for distractions, seriously you have a great magician standing right here." Your eyes met his lilac ones. Purple, mysterious and also mischevious, these things reflect the man ib front of you.

Keep eye contact, he pulls into his hat pulling out a deck of cards. Different carda were held in front of you. Picking one up, a diamond symbol was shown along with a small cat paw. Before you could further investugate, he re took the card.

Instead of reshuffling his deck disappeared.

"So, you're not from around here are you?" Your eyes furrow in confusion. He laughs further explaining.

"Usually, "Magicians," do card tricks like this and while you're distracted they pick your pockets." He holds up your valuable items that you were hiding.

"Hey.. give that back!" You reach foward as the items disappear. He smiles pulling out another object from his pocket. A flyer? He snaps his hands as it disappears as well.

"Countdown with me, 3 2 1." He snaps again looming around before lookong above you. Looking up, objects fall off your head onto the ground below you. Your missing items fell to your feet.

As you get up, you notice the man from before missing, with only a flyer left in his place.

"Lyney & Lynette's Magic Show."

'Performing tonight at 18hrs."

"Sorry for suddenly leaving, I had some things to attend to. I would like to see you again after my show tonight. I do have something to return to you after all."

"I hope you accept my invatation."

@malleuxii @tavvattales @yuumaofc @endlessmari (dunno who else wants to be tagged.)

#rene

Lyney's tag for my writing for him is

#adventures with a magician boy from a quiet villiage

Just follow it, its easier than me tagging you individually.

[notbadforafailedvessel]

Alcina/Neko!Reader - Part II

Part I

Now that I think about, I could have cut this part in three... because this ended up being incredibly long! But whatever, enjoy it all at once, hehe.

Your presence in Castle Dimitrescu became quite the adventure.

Alcina soon discovers that as long as she was with you, you walked as a human, but if you were wandering on your own (which she clarified you were free to do because it wouldn't be fair to keep you around with nothing to do while she worked), you preferred to turn your hands and feet into paws to move as an animal since in that way, you were nimbler. And since you still weren't familiarized with the place, it was handier.

The first challenge you encounter is with Alcina's daughters.

They aren't happy with having to share their mother's attention with you and they made it fairly obvious.

Alcina never told them you were out of limits, wanting to test your abilities.

To you, she simply said that you do whatever you need to do to protect yourself. Knowing that if you managed to reach any of them or vice versa, you wouldn't cause any real damage beyond their pride.

The girls would never admit it, but they were impressed by your agility and deep down, they enjoyed and had fun with your chases.

Their worst mischief ocurrs when they lure you towards the cellar in their fly form, where they locked you into the darkness, which wasn't really a problem to you since you could see in it, making you aware that the place is filled with monsters like the one that attacked you on your arrival.

Completely ignorant to how important that room was to the lady of the castle, you jumped from barrel to barrel carelessly, kicking many of them towards the floor as you dodged the monsters to take a proper position to attack them, only noticing the spilled liquid that came from them when you slipped in a puddle but it doesn't stops you from recovering quickly to continue with the battle.

Alcina, during a break from work, tunes your heartbeat, standing in the next second when she realizes how accelerated it is, followed by a commotion.

When she finds her daughters cackling in front of the cellar's door, Alcina knows that nothing good could come from it. Growling at them to move, she heads to the cellar.

You feel proud of yourself when the lights turn on and you can witness your achievement, having got rid of the monsters on your own. However, your smile disappears when you see how discontent Alcina looks.

Despite knowing it wasn't your fault, Alcina feels the rage taking her over after watching all the wasted product. In a few long strides she reaches you, taking you by the back of your neck like a cat, lifting you up effortlessly.

You shrink into yourself, immediately reading the mood, trying to become smaller, trembling when she turns her head to you, her features twisted in anger.

It's tempting to retaliate, but despite her wrathful fog, Alcina perceives you trembling with fear, your big eyes widened with distress, shining with unshed tears. And for the first time, such image doesn't suits her well.

She takes a deep breath with closed eyes to calm a bit, and cradles you in your arms in the next second. She waits a moment in that position, trying to give you some sense of security before setting in motion without letting you go.

The girls are waiting outside, almost expectant to see some kind of drama, but Alcina pretends nothing happened, giving them the order to clean up the mess and go find new maidens to recover the losses.

In silence, she takes you to her chamber, placing you at the end of the bed, standing on the edge. You are still tense, unsure what to expect and the silence doesn't do anything to soothe your nerves.

You fidget with your tail. "My Lady, I-"

"Quiet, pet," she silences you with a soft tone. "I can't blame you for this." She holds you by the chin so you look at her. "But after this unfortunate event, I shall make clear that the cellar is now forbidden for you and my daughters' games. I will let them know about this new rule too."

You nod earnestly. "Understood, my Lady."

For a beat she remains serious but then she chuckles. "Time to get you clean, pet." You imagine a bath is coming your way, but with a gloved finger she collects some of the bloodwine in your arm and then put it in her mouth, moaning appreciatively. The sensual act makes you blush. "I can't let this go to waste."

Alcina doesn't asks for consent, at least not verbally. She keeps your eyes on your face, reading your expressions as she undresses you slowly, giving you the time to stop her.

You are not naive to not understand her intentions but you don't even consider to put a stop to it. The most time you spend with her, the most you crave from her.

Once you are naked, she leans down to lick you clean, starting on your neck and working her way down your body, avoiding any part that would make the act sexual instead of simply intimate.

Nonetheless, it makes you tremble with desire, reason why she wraps an arm around your waist when she notices your legs wobble.

Finishing with your body, she puts her free hand on your neck, her fingers on your jaw so she can move your head as it suits her as she licks the bloodwine on your face.

She takes advantage of your gasps to slid her tongue inside your mouth, brushing yours fleetingly as she press her lips against yours.

The contact barely lasts a second but it's enough to add more impact to your already stimulated body. Lightheaded, you wonder if this was some sort of punishment even when she claimed she couldn't blame you for what happened.

Chuckling at your disarranged state, Alcina takes you in her arms once again, finally taking you to the bathroom to bathe you properly.

Alcina lived in a constant state of tenderness and flusteredness because of you.

Luckily for you, her affection for you it's stronger and she only resorts to scolding you or making clear that you can't do whatever it pleases you.

Like she will once this dinner it's over.

You had been invited to join the meals of your Lady and her daughters since the very first day and today wasn't the exception but this time you did something you have never done.

You feel sleepy, due to an exhaustive chasing with the girls that lasted several hours and the food only highlighted such state.

Mother and daughters fall into conversation, Alcina happily listening to the girls' affairs.

You get off the chair, rubbing your eyes to then turn your hands and feet, sitting on your butt with bended legs on the floor next to Alcina's chair, keeping one arm extended in front of you while licking your other paw to groom yourself.

It doesn't take long to feel Alcina's hand on your head, making you push your against her hand enthusiastically.

Her ministrations aren't helpful for your sleepy state and you can only think in the comfort she provides, the warmth that would surround you if you were closer to her.

Without thinking, you hop into her lap, fleetingly nuzzling your face in her neck before lying down in a curled up position, your purring reaching every corner of the room, completely unaware of the women's reactions.

Alcina looks down at you speechless, the hand with which she had been caressing you, hovering idly.

In other circumstances ─ more precisely, in the presence of the Lords and Mother Miranda ─ she would have reacted very different, and the outcome wouldn't have been pleasing for neither of you.

Thankfully, this time she can be reckless. But a serious conversation with you is bound to happen once you wake up.

Alcina cradles your head softly, her thumb brushing one of your ears, making her smile subtly when you smile in your sleep.

Gazing up while her hand rests protectively on the side you had been hurt months ago, she finds her daughters smiling like the cat who ate the canary, and she channels her Lady Dimitrescu persona for a second. "Not a single word." Afterwards, she clears her throat, taking a sip of her wine regally and smiles softly. "Continue, sweet Bela."

You wake up hours later, Alcina's lap no longer your resting place but you are still lying in a comfortable and soft spot, and when you open your eyes, your eyes find your Lady next to you on her bed, leaning against the headboard, reading a book.

"Have you rested well, pet?" She places the book on the nightstand and the glasses she was wearing on top of the book.

You cover your face with your paws while you stretch, then yawn. "Yes, my Lady." Though you scoot towards her with the intention to fall asleep again.

A hand on your shoulder stops you, making you pout and look up with a disgruntled expression.

"There's something I need to speak with you, pet. Something important and that can't wait."

You worry, wondering what could you have done to upset your lady, your mind already overworking with possible scenarios of your dismissal.

"Easy, pet." She shifts to her side to face you, resting on her arm. "Technically, you haven't done anything wrong. But what occurred in the dinner room can't happen again."

You frown, not understanding. If you haven't done anything wrong, why it couldn't happen again?

"At least not whenever it pleases you. You have known Mother Miranda and the other Lords. I have an image to maintain in front of them."

You still remember the day as it had happened yesterday. Your Lady had told you about them before their arrival and after finding out Mother Miranda was a scientist, you wanted to go hide in a room and come out until they were gone.

Alcina warned you to behave, and it had requiere a huge effort not to react in anyway when the leader entered the castle. You were scared and wondered why you had to be there even when Alcina explained that it was better to introduce you than trying to keep a secret from Mother Miranda.

Since your experience with scientists wasn't a good one, you were expecting to be taken away to be studied even when Alcina tried to reassured you that that wouldn't happen.

And your Lady had been right. Mother Miranda had looked at your way once, scrutinizing you up and down as if she was scanning you, capable to find out right in that moment that you weren't fitting for whatever she needed, and she had let out a snort afterwards, making a mocking comment to Alcina about what a good mother she was for getting a kitten for her daughters.

It hurt your pride but she never looked your way after that time, so only for that reason you were able to let it go.

"Do you understand, pet?" There was an edge on her tone, not appreciating having to fish for a response.

"Yes, my Lady." You gazed up. "I would never do that in front of them. I would never do anything to embarrass you," you promised, wanting to be a good thing for her and not a nuisance. "But-" you trailed off, hesitating.

"Speak your mind, pet." Her words might be slightly harsh but she was caressing your jaw with the back of her index finger softly.

"But what about when it's only you and I, my Lady, could I-?"

Alcina ponders for a moment. "Only when I'm not working and you have to wait until I allow you to do it."

You have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, you want to be selfish and take what you want whenever you want to as your nature whispers you to do and what usually gets you in troubles. On the other, you had never known about sincere care and interest for you until you meet your Lady, and you know that's something you won't risk losing.

You nod. "All right, my Lady." You smile and feel your heart fluttering when Alcina grins back at you.

"What a good pet." She buries her face in the crook of you neck, nuzzling your jaw with her head, acting as if she was a cat. She brushes your neck with her lips. "Such a good pet."

You close your eyes when you feel her teeth scraping your skin, knowing what's coming, letting out a whimper when she sinks them in.

Drinking slowly from you, savouring you, Alcina rolls over you, careful not to put all her weight on you, but enough for you to feel a satisfying pressure.

You grasp your Lady's shoulders, digging your claws for her to feel but without breaking her skin, dragging a moan from the woman.

"Mine." She grunts against your neck, making you shiver due to the vibration and the possessiveness she exuded.

Sitting on the couch in Alcina's office with your limbs and tail tucked under your body, resembling a loaf of bread, you stare at the maid who enters after knocking on the door to deliver a package until she leaves the two of you alone once again, hurrying to get out after making quick eye contact with you.

The staff was no longer very fond of you after the day you attacked one of the maids, taking away her life to rip her heart out to gift it to your Lady.

Alcina doesn't react at the box placed on her desk until hours later, once she's done with her work, when you are sleeping lightly. She smiles smugly after opening it.

"Come here, sweet pet."

Despite you are waking up, you are quick and nimble to stand up, transforming your paws to hands and feet, hurrying to your Lady's side. You wait next to her chair, looking up at her expectantly and when she pats her lap with one hand, you climb to straddle her happily.

She strokes your cheek, triggering your purring. "I have a gift for you."

You look down when she presents you the box she's holding for you to see, gasping in awe at the leather choker with the Dimitrescu crest resting proudly in the middle.

You reach out to touch it reverently with your fingertips. "For me?" you ask skeptically, not used to such gestures despite it wasn't the first time your Lady gave you something. Since your arrival, your wardrobe had increased thanks to her. But somehow you knew this was different, and much more valuable.

Alcina hums, taking the choker out of the box, leaving the latter on the desk. "I want you to have something that will always remind you of who you belong to. More importantly, to remind everyone who sets their eyes on you... who you belong to." She puts the choker in your neck, capable to close the clasp without looking at it. A pleasant sensation washing her over at the result.

You follow her hands until she's done with the task, raising your head to look at her. "I-I belong to you, my Lady?" you ask with wonder.

Alcina grins intimidatingly though you know it's not aimed to you. "Of course, pet. My pet. I got you first, you are mine." She wraps her hand around your neck, squeezing softly, not to hurt but as if she was looking to leave the choker's mark on your skin. "You are mine to look after. Mine to touch. Mine to kiss. Mine to taste. Mine to possess. Mine to do every single thing I want... isn't that right?" She wasn't asking due to uncertainty, simply because she wanted you to voice your surrender to her.

You gulp, momentarily closing your eyes as your body arches towards hers. Alcina's laugh make your ears flutter at the divine sound, and you are overjoyed when she wraps her arm around your waist, soothing your desperation to be closer when she pressed your front against hers, your hands finding her shoulders.

"Yes..." you whisper, your voice trembling but with your next words your tone is louder and firmer. "Yours, my Lady, ever only yours." Your hands slide towards her neck, your fingertips ghosting her jaw.

Alcina raises an eyebrow, almost like she was reading your mind and daring you to do what you wanted to do. And despite knowing there could be consequences for acting before your Lady approved it, you couldn't deny that you enjoyed her punishments because it usually meant keeping you at her side all day, doing things to keep her in a good mood or spend all day aroused.

Even when you were the brattiest and she resorted into something physical and you had trouble sitting comfortably, you never felt unsafe or scared because Alcina carefully keeps an eye on you to be conscious of your limits.

But so far she has never crossed a line, giving you comfort and reassurance afterwards; and you took pleasure in the soreness her hands left in your body, which you considered another way to mark you even when not always it was visible.

So you dare to hold her face in her hands, tilting her head as if you truly could have some control over her. She growls as if annoyed but she smirks before you press your lips against hers.

"I'm yours as much as you are mine, my Lady," you claim conceitedly.

Alcina doesn't denies it. She can't, knowing you are aware because you thrive on all the attention she gives you, noticing how different it is from the one she gives to others. Nonetheless, she narrows her eyes, golden eyes shining with only one purpose.

And when she grabs your ass with her free hand, squeezing it, you know the next following days, every time you sit down, you are going to be reminded of your cheekiness.

But when Alcina kisses you again, taking total control of you with her tongue and lips, you are more than clear that you wouldn't have it any other way.

[thelovelylolly]

Joel Miller/Tommy Miller x Reader where she finds an old Sphynx (hairless ugly thing lol, but so affectionate) cat and carries him in her hoodie to keep him warm. Joel wonders why she's being shifty/what she's hiding. And isn't impressed when she finally shows him.

-

This is super random but I would miss my adopted Sphynx sooo much if I was thrown into the last of us universe 🙈😭 he's too domesticated to live as a stray lol he wears clothes (even legwarmers 🤣) and sleeps in my bed or inside my hoodie all day 🤣

Hope you're well x

Can We Keep Him?

Summary: You find a Sphynx cat while traveling with Joel, who doesn't want it. Warnings: post-outbreak, not proofread bc my own cats kept me up last night and im tired, let me know if i missed anything! Notes: i. love. cats. thats it thats the note

You and Joel stumbled upon an abandoned gas station and strip mall while making your way to your next trading spot. You two decided to split up and raid the abandoned buildings so you wouldn't waste too much time. You went into the gas station while Joel looked through the other buildings. It was already pretty picked over, but every once in a while, you would find something useful or just interesting.

You were walking through the dirty isles when you heard a crunch from the back. You immediately turned around, but saw nothing. You grabbed your flashlight and pistol, readying them as you two slow steps towards the sound. Another crunch and a rustle come from the back. You got closer and closer, pausing for a moment before turning the corner to prepare yourself. You didn't want to deal with infected.

You quickly turned the corner and aimed your flashlight at the noise. Two blue eyes stared back at you as you lowered your gun and flashlight. A Sphynx cat was just munching on some random food that was left, and probably expired.

"Aw, hey little guy," you cooed, putting your pistol in your waistband and crouching down in front of the cat. You carefully stuck your hand out to him, letting him sniff at your hand before rubbing his head against your hand. You gave him some scratches on his wrinkly little head as he walked closer to you.

"Will you let me take you?" You asked him when he put his front paws on his knees. He meowed at you and you picked him up, standing up with him in your arms.

You carefully opened your hoodie up and he instantly hopped in, happy for the warmth. You giggled and he stuck his head out, licking your chin.

"You gotta hide, buddy. I don't know if Joel will like you," you said, gently pushed his head back down. You made sure he was comfortable, then left the gas station to regroup with Joel.

----

Joel knew something was off with you. As you two continued on your way, your arms stayed wrapped around your torso and you didn't take your hoodie off, no matter how hot you were getting. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. So, he stopped walking and turned to face you.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Your eyes widened and you quickly looked away from Joel. "Nothing, why?"

"You're acting weird."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Joel, I'm not, okay?"

He stepped closer, his hands going to his hips. "You really wanna do this?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You opened your hoodie up and carefully took the Sphynx cat you found out, cradling him in your arms. Joel was, at first, shocked you were able to hide the little guy so easily, then disappointed. Of course you picked up a stray cat, a hairless, wrinkly one at that.

"Where did you find that?" Joel asked.

"The gas station," you replied. "He was just too cute to leave and he immediately started to love on me, so..."

"Okay, first, he is not that cute. Kinda ugly, to be honest. Second, why on earth did you pick up a stray cat? You don't know what kinda diseases he has."

"I don't care, and he is cute! Can we keep him? Please?"

"No," Joel answered sharply.

"C'mon, Joel. Can you really say no to this face?" You replied, holding the cat out to Joel.

"Yes, I can. He's not a cute cat."

"He is! Plus, where are we gonna leave him that's safe?" You added. "Please, Joel? Just until we find a better place for him?"

Joel took a deep breath and grumbled something as he ran a hand across his face.

"Fine. We can keep him, but when we find a good place to leave him, that's it," he said before turning and continuing on your path.

"Yes!" You cheered quietly as you quickly followed Joel. "Now, what should we call him?"

"Dear lord," Joel grumbled, already regretting letting you keep the cat.

[wc-confessions]

I’m anti-Bramblestar, but one thing I realized while reading Squirrelflight’s Hope is that Bramblestar never threatened Leafpool’s life like some anti-Bramblestar documents claim. He did stop her from treating Sunrise, but never threatened to kill her. Squirrelflight thought he would fight her, but he didn’t and he didn’t threaten her. I hate Bramblestar and he is abusive, but saying he threatened Leafpool or saying that he said he “would shred her” isn’t true. Just want to correct that. Direct excerpt below for those who don’t believe me.

“As Hawk and Snow clustered protectively around their campmate, Leafpool got to her paws. “You can argue until dawn for all I care.” She turned toward the medicine den. “All I know is that StarClan hasn’t told us to let this cat die. I’m fetching herbs to treat her. I will not sit vigil for a cat I could have saved.” She began to head across the clearing.

“No!” Bramblestar leaped in front of her, squaring his shoulders as he stared at her. Leafpool froze, her eyes wide.

Squirrelflight’s paws seemed rooted to the ground. Was Bramblestar going to fight her sister to stop her treating a wounded cat? As she blinked in disbelief, Sunrise let out a low groan. She was dying! Energy surged beneath Squirrelflight’s pelt. She crossed the clearing and pushed in front of Leafpool, meeting Bramblestar’s fierce gaze with her own. “Let her go,” she growled.

Bramblestar stared at her miserably. “We can’t keep doing this,” he whispered only loud enough for her to hear. Desperation edged his mew. “If you keep undermining my authority, you could destroy the whole Clan.”

Squirrelflight held her ground. “I have to do what I think is right.”

“Even if it costs you your Clan?”

“ThunderClan is stronger than that,” Squirrelflight spat. “At least I hope it is. If our future depends on letting a cat die, then it’s not the Clan I thought it was.”

Bramblestar stared at her. Uncertainty glittered in his gaze. “Why are you doing this to me?” His words pierced her heart. “You’re my deputy. You’re my mate. You’re supposed to support me.”

“Being a good deputy doesn’t mean blindly following orders.” Squirrelflight didn’t move. “It means standing up for what I believe, and this time, I believe I’m right.” The camp seemed to swim around her. She knew she was hurting him. But she had to convince him. As the Clan watched her silently, their eyes round in the moonlight, Bramblestar backed away.

His gaze flicked to Leafpool. “If you insist on treating Sunrise, go ahead. But take her to the medicine den. If she’s out of sight, perhaps the Clan will feel less angry.” He nodded toward the Sisters. “They can stay in the elders’ den. Berrynose and Bumblestripe will stand guard tonight. Move Millie, Brightheart, Cloudtail, and Graystripe to the nursery.” Around him, the Clan got to their paws. Mousewhisker and Twigbranch helped Tempest and Hawk lift Sunrise. Leafpool nosed her way into the medicine den. Bramblestar narrowed his eyes, his face like stone. Squirrelflight tried to drag her gaze from his, her heart cracking as he curled his lip. “StarClan wanted unity among the Clans,” he snarled. “Thanks to you, there’s not even unity in ThunderClan anymore.”

It’s still shitty how he did the whole situation with Sunrise, but yeah. He never threatened to kill Leafpool or “shredded her” like some documents claim. He’s still abusive, but making up things that never happened in the books spreads misinformation.

.

[natsuki208]

The Almost Cat-astrophe! 🐾

The story of how Sebastian discovered baby Ciel’s developed cat allergies.

———

It’s bitter cold outside but inside of the Phantomhive manor is cozy warm. Perfect timing for the growing heir’s first birthday.

Everyone of the servants are gathered within the main room; preparing food for the dinner later, and listening in on the baby’s tiny laughter. His new father, Sebastian Michaelis, is the one who cannot stop smiling - for the past six months have been warming him up to this very moment more than the fireplace.

It’s also probably because he’s ready to give his own present to his child, for the more presents the baby receives, the more impatient Sebastian subtly gets (even though he suggested to save the best for last). After one new pair of unfitting footwear, it’s finally Sebastian’s turn even though the little one sitting on his leg begins to tilt sleepily.

“Now don’t fall asleep yet, Ciel.” He speaks softly. “Papa still has something special for you.”

The man gently places his child on the sofa and stands up to get his gift; no longer being in his father’s arms widens his eyes immediately. It doesn’t take long for Sebastian to turn back around holding a box twice the size of Ciel, this grabs everyone else’s attention as their temporal master slowly takes off the lid with a smile.

Inch by inch, the box begins to move. The sight of fur becomes very clear to the others in the room, along with sky blue eyes peering out, the color of light and dark grey stripes pop out and the tiniest sound ever heard spills out:

Meww.

A kitten. A four week old kitten the size of a full-grown hand peaks its head over the top to look at the baby in front. Ciel spreads a little smile as soon as he sees it, clapping his hands as to pet it himself. Both little ones take a liking to one another already with one purring and the other patting repeatedly while giggling. Sebastian though feels much happier than the two combined and Tanaka, the butler standing next to him, can read him like an open book.

“I’m not too sure whom the kitten is suppose to please here.” He jokingly comments, keeping his laughter to himself.

Sebastian of course notices this. “Really. Well you can’t blame me for how precious they are.”

Little Ciel starts whimpering when his father pulls the kitten back towards him for a moment to get a better look at all the features.

“Look at her. Those innocent eyes, the softness to her fur, how plump her paw pads are and her elegant sounds that’s enough to put my child at ease. She’s perfect.”

Suddenly the whimpering gets a little louder, accompanied by the tugging on his sleeve, which is enough to bring Sebastian’s focus back onto Ciel. The realisation dawns on him and gently picks him up with his free arm.

“Oh. Of course I cannot forget you, bluebird.” The smile grows bigger by looking at those big, sapphire eyes again. Having both a tiny kitten and the only tolerable human to him close manages to bring HIM to ease, which use to be very rare in mundane scenarios such as today. “I’m sure you and Lady will go swell together.”

Oh yeah. He gave her such a sophisticated name for such a small feline (he was gonna go for Lilith or Lamia but it was too on the nose for him).

Tanaka gives another smile after hearing such amusing words coming from usually a calm and collected person (but is well aware how his behaviour can change around the little one) and he continues to view them with pride.

“If you say so, sir. Ho, ho.”

-

A few days have gone by and they felt like a dream to the normally practical demon like Sebastian. Who can blame him for now looking after two adorable pint-size creatures in his new life? Whenever they are around for asleep in his arms, it puts him in a mellow mood - dare he say it’s as pleasant as most worthless human souls.

His mind cannot focus on anything else right now but those cuties, not even whilst he’s suppose to go over some paperwork sent to him by the Queen herself. Such bothering work does not entertain him in the slightest, he’ll gladly admit it’s not the thing he signed up for when becoming Ciel’s new father but it must be done nonetheless.

“How tiresome.” Sebastian sighs, plopping the papers on the old desk.

The need for entertainment rises as he grows ever more unmotivated to finish it swiftly, and just from looking at it too. Then it pins to him, of course he’s gonna pay a quick visit to the nursery to see the precious pair again - it may be during Ciel’s nap time but still.

Sebastian slowly opens the office door and glances around for any witnesses, gladly nobody is present which releases a soft breath from the demon. He’s now standing outside the nursery and is just about to grab the handle when… he hears crying.

This is definitely not good. It sounds more chesty than usual which makes it worse. Sebastian hurries in fast and immediately sees what’s wrong; the wailing baby in the crib is coughing between cries, a runny nose and has small red spots planted on his cheeks. He cannot open his eyes due to tears but does his little grabby hands for whoever he thinks is in the room. The demon doesn’t hesitate to answer his gesture and picks him up, this gives him the chance to better check the sudden aching changes.

“Goodness, Ciel! What happened?!” The baby continues crying breathily. He is worried, actually worried. How rare for him to feel yet another common and strong emotion, especially towards a human.

Is it a cold? No it can’t be. Ciel never grew red spots like this before. He looks at every corner of the nursery to find some form of evidence for this calamity. That’s when he hears it; the small adoring sound from near his foot:

Meww.

Little Lady is innocently pawing at her favourite toy, jumping at it every time it got away from her, even if it’s cute it raises questions. She couldn’t have scratched him on accident, did she?… No! There’s no possible way that Lady can be possible for such a horrendous deed, nor does Sebastian ever want to suspect her either.

Suddenly, a knock at the door pipes up. Who else but Tanaka is currently standing by politely, and he immediately notices something is not right while seeing Sebastian’s troubled expression.

“Whatever is the matter in here, sir?” He asks. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I… was indeed working until…” This is no time to give away that he grew bored of the assignments, the sick Ciel is whom he cares for right now. “Something is wrong with Ciel and it doesn’t appear to be yet another cold.”

It must be serious if even Tanaka grows cautious of what has happened to the young heir. The butler requests if he can call over a doctor for assistance, Sebastian agrees and off both men head for downstairs; Lady is obviously taking down with them too because Sebastian.

-

It didn’t take long for a doctor to get here; but sadly Angelina aka Madame Red was the only one available at this hour. It took even longer to persuade Sebastian to lend Ciel over to her for examination, luckily Lady can calm him down during this dreadful situation. As he sits alone (minus Tanaka nearby) he gently plays with the tabby kitten and her tiny meows are like music to his ears, not to mention her soft nature while purring and rolling over on his lap just lifts his mood a teensy bit.

But it isn’t enough to bring his mind out of this current state of worry he’s trapped in. Sure, there were moments in his past contracts over the centuries when he felt some form of concern for his masters, but it only lasted temporarily and he never gave it a good thinking. Today however actually got to him; he’s already grown really attached to his new son so it shouldn’t be a surprise… but it is.

A few more minutes pass by until there’s a knock on the door, Sebastian tells Tanaka to answer it for him which he kindly does. Words of knowledge are shared, heads nod and a silent glare peeked over at Sebastian in the distance. Once that was taking care of, the butler proceeds to spread the information to him with a relieved smile.

“Good news, Sebastian - it’s nothing serious.”

Just a few words relaxes Sebastian firmly. “Well, that’s quite a relief. Would you mind telling me what it was then?”

Tanaka clears his throat before answering, losing that smile and looking down at Lady in Sebastian’s hands (not really a good sign).

“I’m afraid… it turns out Ciel has developed a allergy… towards cats.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen in genuine surprise. Not with the fact that Lady really was responsible, but due to the fact he doesn’t have full knowledge on something like allergies. He has heard of the word before and knows it mainly applies with certain foods, but animals as well? He honestly had no idea.

“Do tell, Tanaka. I don’t quite follow.”

“It simply means the fur is harmful and can cause one to gain a rash as we’ve seen on his skin. But don’t fret, the boy received some medicine and is sound asleep, so he’ll recover very soon indeed.”

While good news, Sebastian can’t help but sadden at the fact that is pointed out next.

“But I apologise for this dearly when I say we’ve been informed to keep felines out of the mansion.”

There it is. As it does break Sebastian to see his child sick AND to now give away such a cute little kitten which was a gift to said child, he eventually accepts what must be done and silently agrees, keeping those feelings to himself.

“If it’s what must be done to keep him safe… I’ll allow you to find a more suitable home for Lady. Be sure that it’s a sensible one as well.” He informs regrettably.

“Yes. Of course, sir.”

Whilst Tanaka takes away the now sorrowful kitten, squeakily meowing non-stop, Sebastian is allowed to check up on the sleepy Ciel in the bedroom. Thank satan that the rashes have toned down along with the redness, although he occasionally sneezed during his slumber (but it didn’t wake him up) and all Sebastian can do is gaze down at him, stroking his hair softly. It’s a shame the young Lady couldn’t stay around as he had hoped, but human nature can be torturing, and as long as Ciel is safe once more he’ll eventually move on and wish luck for her.

Even after the unfortunate event has cleared up, it was still an intriguing experience in its own way.

[violetsandfluff]

Sugar Cookies & Santa Hats

a/n: it’s been forever since I wrote for tumblr, so go easy on me! 😂 I will probably be less and less active in coming weeks, but I wanted to let you all know how much I love and appreciate you. happy holidays!!

wc: 1.5k

summary: girl dad!Harry sets out to convince his crestfallen daughter that Santa is real.

TW: …”Santa”

:readmore:

“Who wants to make some cookies for Santa Claus?” Harry asked and his suggestion was greeted by a shrill shriek of excitement from two-, nearly three-year-old Penny, who was standing on her tiptoes to peer inside her stocking, which hung from a coat hook near the front door. 

“Santa Claus!” she repeated, throwing her hands in the air and spinning around herself until she grew dizzy and came to an abrupt stop on the ground. 

The family cat, Agnes, eyed her through the corners of her unamused eyes before turning back to the crackling fire to continue licking her jet-black paws. 

Penny raced Harry to the kitchen, her bubbly giggles filling the room behind her as she ran. “I win!” she panted as she skidded to a stop before the refrigerator, followed by a triumphant, “I beat Daddy!”

Removing the family’s matching aprons from the pantry, you helped Penny into hers and handed her one to bestow upon Harry before donning your own. 

Contrary to her younger sister’s enthusiasm, Ruby stayed on the stairs and somberly watched her family disappear into the kitchen. 

“Come on, Rubes!” you called, hoisting Penny up to the sink to wash her tiny hands. “We need our master baker to show us how it’s done.” 

Ruby let out a soft sigh, refusing to respond. After a moment, Harry poked his head out of the kitchen, making eye contact with his eldest daughter, his brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?” he questioned, but his toddler’s joyous shrieks drowned out his voice. He placed Ruby’s folded apron into her hands, but she thrust it back at him. 

“I don’t think I should make cookies for Santa,” she said after a moment, her green-gray eyes welling up with tears. 

“Why not?” asked Harry incredulously. “I thought you loved to bake cookies!”

“I do,” Ruby began, shaking her head, “but I don’t think Santa…needs them.”

“Of course he does,” laughed Harry. “Cookies keep him awake so he can bring us presents, you know!” 

Ruby shook her head once again, her ashamed eyes darting from her father to the Christmas tree and back. “Daddy,” she whispered earnestly, lowering her voice so Penny couldn’t overhear. “Santa Claus isn’t real.” 

Shocked, Harry’s eyes dropped. He heard Penny in the kitchen, cheerfully singing, “Jingle bells! Jingle bells!” paired with the crackling of the fire. He felt his cheeks grow warm as he looked from his daughter’s tearful eyes to his fidgeting hands, and back. 

“Who told you that, Ruby Doo?” he murmured softly as she began to cry. 

“People in my class,” she sniffled, looking up at him with round, glassy eyes. 

“Do you know what, bug?” Harry asked, lowering his eyes to a whisper. “When I was your age, kids at school told me the same. But do you know what happened?”

Ruby shook her head, wiping her nose on the back of her hand and listening intently. 

“On Christmas Eve, I went to bed sad, but right at midnight, I heard jingle bells and hoofbeats on the roof.”

The six-year-old’s eyes lit up. “Reindeer?” she asked, and Harry nodded. 

“When I poked my head out of my bedroom, I saw Santa arranging our presents under the tree.” 

“Really?” Ruby asked, her eyes wide as saucers. “Did he see you?” 

“He didn’t,” Harry replied, feeling the pit in his stomach disappear at his daughter’s budding excitement. “When I woke up in the morning, he had eaten all of the cookies and milk and fed the carrots to his reindeer. He even left me a special note in my stocking.”

“What did it say?” breathed Ruby and Harry gave her an impish smirk. 

“That’s between me and Santa Claus. Now. I’m guessing it’s about time to cut out the cookies.” 

Before he had time to rise to his feet, Ruby sprang off of the stairs and donned her apron as quickly as she could. She sprinted into the bathroom to wash her hands before meeting the remainder of her family in the kitchen. 

“Just in time to help us roll out the dough!” you exclaimed, casting Harry a secretive smile as you pulled a step stool up to the counter for Ruby. 

“We’re making cookies for Santa!” cheered Penny, bouncing on her toes in excitement. 

Ruby held the handles of the rolling pin tightly and you placed yours over hers, guiding their movement over the dough. When the sheet sprawled across the counter, flat and smooth, you retrieved a bag of cookie cutters from the cupboard opposite where you were standing. 

“I want to make Santas!” shouted Penny, reaching for the bag as you set it on the counter before her. 

“I want to make trees and snowflakes and snowmen!” exclaimed Ruby, reaching for the bag. “I think Santa likes snowmen the best.”

“I want to make snowmen, too!” said Penny decisively. 

While the girls distributed the cookie cutters, Harry pulled you aside. Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, he lowered his lips to your ear and whispered a secret plan into it before returning his attention to his girls. 

“I’m making snowmen, Santas, bells, and reindeers!” Penny cried out joyfully as Ruby helped her press the cookie cutters into the sweet, malleable dough. 

You and Harry helped them make the most out of the sheet of dough, resulting in two pans of warm sugar cookies less than an hour later. While Harry and the girls were infatuated by a rerun of the Polar Express, you placed the cookies on cooling racks and mixed food coloring into small tubs of frosting.

“Are you ready to decorate?” you called into the darkened living room and Penny squealed excitedly. 

“We have a surprise for you, mama!” Harry called back. He, Ruby, and Penny appeared in the doorway, decked out in matching pajamas, aprons, light-up necklaces, and antler headbands.

Giving you a kiss on the cheek, he slipped a necklace on over your head and perched a Santa hat on your head. Whinnying, Penny galloped to your side, climbing onto the step stool and peering into the bowls of colored frosting. 

“Red, white, green, pink, blue…” she named the colors, accidentally poking her finger into the blue. She licked the frosting from her fingertip and would have been successful in going back for more had you not stopped her. 

“Now you’ve got to rewash your hands,” you chided, hoisting her up to clean her hands again. 

Necklace flashing merrily,  Ruby stepped onto the stool and reached for a cookie to begin icing. 

Presently, Penny sidled up next to her and selected a snowflake. The girls contentedly smeared frosting onto their cookies until their arms grew tired and their bedtimes encroached. 

They selected the cookies they saw most fit for Santa Claus and arranged them nicely on a plate with a handful of baby carrots and a glass of water (because milk would spoil if left out overnight.)

You and Harry perched on the edges of their beds--you on Penny’s and Harry on Ruby’s-- and read aloud as many stories as it took for them to drift off, dreaming excitedly of Christmas morning. 

Once they were asleep, you and Harry slipped into your own bed to discuss your midnight plan. 

“Ruby didn’t want to ruin Santa for me,” Harry smiled, just enough to make his dimple apparent. “So I told her about my experience with Santa when I was her age.” 

“When your mom was--”

Harry nodded, propping his head up on his elbow. “We should do the same. Be up by midnight?” 

~~~

Harry roused you five minutes before midnight. 

You awoke to a white, curly synthetic beard against your face. When you opened your eyes, you could distinctly make out the silhouette of your husband, decked out in a complete Santa suit, holding an armful of gifts and stocking stuffers. 

With a charming smile, Harry extended a hand to you, helping you out of bed, but nearly losing a few boxes in the process. 

You helped him steady his load before creeping silently downstairs to arrange the gifts beneath the elaborate tree. 

Once the living room was finished, lit only by the tree, which was just bright enough to see the presents stacked beneath it and the empty plate beside it, you crept up the stairs and knocked lightly on your daughters’ bedroom door. Knowing Penny was a sound sleeper, you didn’t worry about awakening her. 

Ruby, who was drifting in and out of a restless sleep, sat up immediately at the sound. Tiptoeing so as not to wake her younger sister, she let herself out of the bedroom and peered down the stairs. The sight her awestruck eyes beheld was one she would never forget. She clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent a delighted squeal from escaping, lest she blow her cover. Silently, she watched the man in the red suit distribute presents beneath the tree and slip some candy canes into the stockings. 

After a few minutes of baffled silence on her part, the six-year-old began tiptoeing back to her room. She let herself in silently and slipped back into bed with a new kind of warmth and assurance brewing in her core. What a story she would have to tell her children one day.  ~~~

Taglist: @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @groovychaosavenue @madybeth21 @mrspeacem1nusone @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @daisyharry @madeintheniamh and I think that’s it? I could very well be mistaken as I’m doing this from memory. thanks for everything ❤️🎄

[locallixie]

Hiiiii💗💗 could you do a stray kids reaction to someone shady walking up to their s/o and their Doberman or Rottweiler goes to protect them? 😭💗

fluffy bodyguard ; boyfriends/husbands!stray kids' reactions.

🖇—... boyfriends/husbands!stray kids' reactions to their dog protecting their s/o.

✧.* 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ; fluff, soft, boyfriend!stray kids, husband!stray kids, established relationship au, married au, gn!reader.

✧.* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; pet names.

bang chan—...

Like the attentive husband he is, he rushes inside as soon as he felt your cold hands brushing against his. Leaving you confused with your little Rottweiler standing outside the door.

You were cold, you supposed, 'cause your cold hands never really bothered you so much. You thought you were born with naturally cold hands. But guess that didn't sit well with your husband.

"Are you cold, little guy? With all that fur of yours, I don't think this weather stands a chance." You smiled at your dog, Camy. Despite being a 'agressive' breed, Camy is such a sweetheart. An anniversary gift from your husband.

A guy that obviously look out-of-place started walking up to you from across the street, you have never seen him walking around your neighborhood, something was up.

"Hey, you there. Can I have a word—?" Camy began barking, walking on his little paws to be in front of you. The guy took a step back as Camy scared him away from laying a finger on you.

"Hun, are you alright, that guy was looking at you weird from the begining." Chan finally came back with your winter coat and scarf, he placed his hand on your back to reassure you that he's there.

"Little Camy's here protecting me when you're away." You told, seeing his short tail wagging from side to side in joy.

Chan ruffled his head, "Oh, he did? What a good boy!"

lee know—...

Why need a dog? Minho is already dangerous enough to scare strangers and creeps on the streets away. He perfered cats over dogs anyways.

But...he just couldn't say 'no' when it comes to you. And when he said choose any, he was not prepared when you chose the most agressive breed of dog in the pet shop.

His three cats at home already thinking about teaming up to take their new sibling down, like father, like children.

He would trained it, like what its breed was mostly used for. Service work, guarding work. Trained it so it can protect you when he's not there beside you.

Out in the open, and he already see a weirdo walking up to you. "Ahem, are we gonna have a problem here?" Minho stepped in before the stranger gets too close to you. The Doberman standing beside her owner, a chain around her neck to keep her at bay.

"Look man, I'm just talking to—" They began but was quickly cut off by your boyfriend.

"To my partner, yeah, I know. I can't help but notice that they're not enjoying your company." He held the chain loosely in his hand, "So I advise you to back off, before I feed you to Nari."

"Dude—" Nari barked loudly, poking her neck toward the stranger as a way to intimidate them.

Minho's gaze held fire, "Get lost."

changbin—...

You had your Rottweiler ever since you were little, you're glad that she is still with you 'til this day. She bark at almost everyone, especially people who just simply look suspicious. She was trained to protect you since day one, she looks after you a lot before you started dating.

Dokki barked at Changbin the first few times she met him, that was when you just began going out with him. Now married to the guy, she probably loves him more than you.

But you feels safe going outside with Dokki, being an anxious individual that you are, people absolutely terrified you. Still, you would take her with you and your husband when going on walks.

Changbin is jealous yet happy to see Dokki chasing off randos out in public for you. Jealous that he was supposed to be the one protecting you, happy that he won't have to worry when you're out without him with you.

Guy would probably bicker with your dog to be your personal bodyguard. 100% would fight for your affection if he feels like your dog is hogging too much of it.

hyunjin—...

You, your boyfriend of three years, and your two house doggies. Kkami and Todo get along with each other well, sometimes their playing gets a bit too physical but most of the time they're fine.

A long-haired Chihuahua and a Doberman was a interesting mix to say the least. One small, one big. Kkami, surprisingly, was the more agressive one towards strangers.

"Todo, Kkami~ Where are you, babies?" You called them, holding the leashes in hand as you are about take them out for a walk. Hyunjin is currently getting home from work, so it's just you and your two dogs for the time being.

The two came running out from inside the house, all excited to be outdoor after being stuck in isolation the whole day.

You didn't get far until you felt a presence, dragging behind you closely. Todo acted before you could react, almost tripping you with the leash. Barking violently, then biting at the stranger's pants.

"Bad dog! Bad dog! Let go off me, control your dog!" Todo completely ripped a piece of fabric of the poor creep. Take it as a warning! Stay away, or else.

Standing there, still processing things, with your Doberman chewing on a piece of fabric that he just ripped out from a stranger's pants. You were so stuck that you didn't notice your boyfriend coming to you.

"Hey baby, how was your— What is Todo chewing on?" He too would be surprised just as you were, maybe even more than you. At least his child made him proud by protecting his soon-to-be spouse.

han—...

He was scared to bring Bbama over for playdate with your dog, that maybe your dog might devour his. You assured him that it is unlikely to happen, your Rottweiler was a trained yet friendly dog so he have nothing to worry about. Either way, he should get used to her, 'cause you two are getting married soon.

You held him close as you two strolled together in the park with your two dogs. "Baby, that guy is looking at you weird." He whispered to you.

You kept walking, and the guy kept following you both. What does he want from you? Can't he see that Jisung is walking with you, and is your fiancé? You took your left hand out of your pocket, hopefully your engagement ring might discourage him.

"You there," The guy finally approached you, and to you directly. "Looking real fine, can I—" Maxi barked first, which pushed Bbama to bark with her.

The man tried to pet Maxi, "Sir, please don't pet my dog." Your fiancé warned, Jisung trying his best to remain calm in situation like this.

Maxi growled, and barked, getting the creep to leave you alone. Or she'll might just bite his finger off.

Jisung petted her head, her rough fur brushing on his soft palm. "Thanks for the help, girl."

felix—...

He doesn't care what you are bringing home, he probably finds a way to love it wholeheartedly. He thought your 'scary' Doberman was so adoreable, and you were just exaggerating things to make your dog look bad.

So cute and so well disciplined. He almost never see Chase even remotely close to scary at all. But at times that he did, Chase can be so hostile towards a selective group of people, especially when he's out with you.

Someone shady is coming to harass you? Don't worry, Chase is here to bite their entire hand off! The growling, the barking, the threatening stance. All here to keep creeps away from you when Felix is unavailable.

"[Y/N], shouldn't we give them a warning? I mean, Chase is kind of a threat." Felix asked, holding your hand in his after he found you trying to keep your dog away from murdering a guy that was making you uncomfortable.

You stared at your boyfriend, "If Chase hates them, there's probably a reason why, Felix."

seungmin—...

Guy is already quite terrifying when he's angry, then add a equally terrifying dog. You are walking around with scary dog privileges, ain't nobody messing with you whenever you're out on the streets surrounded by strangers.

If your husband is too occupied to cuss out creeps that keep disturbing your peace, your Rottweiler got you covered. He will do anything to make his owner happy, maybe even resorting to violent.

"Please leave me alone, I just want to get home." You told to the drunk guy that insisted you get a drink with him. You lost your husband while walking on the streets, and now you're freaking out.

Your calls are finally answered, "Get the hell away from my partner!" Your husband with Haebi on a leash, and they were mad.

"On the count of three, or I'm letting my dog eat you. One...two..." The drunk guy quickly ran away, stumbling all over the places. The anger on Seungmin's face was still very visible, and his grip on the leash tightened.

"Uh, hello? Where did you go? Haebi and I've been looking everywhere for you." Your husband is a lot scarier than your dog, in your opinion at least. He's sweet, but damn does he make you worried for your life sometimes.

i.n—...

Solid guy, not really wanting to get into confrontation with strangers out in public. He finds it adoreable that your large Doberman was acting as your bodyguard everytime you're outside.

He likes being the strong, heroic boyfriend that protect you, but sometimes it's just nice to sit back and watch your dog scaring sketchy people away from you.

Of course, he can't let Solli take his job and replace him as your protection. He want to 'save' you when he can, with Solli as a extra helping hand. Or paw?

"We work well together, right Solli?" Jeongin asking your dog, after intimidating some rando by just standing there with Solli growling at them.

[darsynia]

Don't Read the Last Page Chapter 2

Summary: Your friend Nat claims her plan to distract Tony Stark with her sex appeal isn't working, so she wants you to do it with your brain--and a sexy red dress. Things start out completely over your head and get more complicated when SHIELD becomes involved.

Length/Warnings: 4,200 | none (future smut!!)

Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Prev | Next

Excerpt:

"Go, please, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your party.”

“It’s Tony, and I would, if I didn’t think you’d bolt the second I turn my back."

“Don’t worry about that, there’s still a lot of your house technology I want to see,” you blurt out, looking with honest interest at the lit-up interior of his famous mansion. When you hadn’t been stressed out about the dress, the spy agency, and possibly letting Natasha down, you really have been excited to catch a glimpse of Stark’s innovations in situ.

His hand tightens on your arm as he bursts into genuine laughter, pulling your focus back to him. “You know, I think you’re the first woman who hasn’t tried to use that line to get into bed with me!”

“Oh God,” you breathe, stumbling back against the wall. What are you doing here? How did you think you had the skills to attend something like this??

Chapter Two: Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

When your car stops, you see that you’re in a short line of other vehicles making their way up to the entrance to Stark’s mansion. It gives you a chance to text Natasha about the crazy conversation you just had with her boss. The program Nat uses to text with you is some weird, proprietary one that makes you pick your nickname new each time. You use the same one as usual, CATnip, but Nat’s is always different, usually dependent on her mood.

CATnip: Your boss wants to recruit me to be a freaking sex spy, and I will never trust you again

TrustTasha: Maybe you misunderstood the assignment?

CATnip: I really don’t think so. He told me that SHIELD wants to keep him from getting too close to his CEO, like I’m in any way capable of competing with Pepper Potts! I’m in way over my depth here.

TrustTasha: Is this you exaggerating for effect or is that really what he said?

CATnip: I am 10% exaggerating. The car is pulling up.

The car stops, and you are gathering up your courage when someone opens the door for you and holds out a hand. You step out, tucking your phone into the gold clutch you brought, wishing you’d thought to check yourself in any kind of mirror in between being trust-stomped by Nick Fury and this moment. As you walk toward the door, you watch your feet rather than the scene in front of you, feeling very much like the ‘barely scraping by’ engineer who lives above her own storefront that you are.

“Excuse me?” a man says, and you look up. He’s a heavyset man, but you suspect that a lot of the bulk is actually muscle. The man’s wearing a black suit and an authoritative expression. He does a bit of a double take on looking at your outfit, and you look down to make sure the gold shawl is covering what you want it to be. “Trying to stand out, nice,” he says appreciatively. “Go on in.”

“Not really,” you mutter to yourself, but you do know your dress is sending a particular message. “You don’t need a name or something?” you ask him. It’s one last bite at your own paw to get out of the trap you’ve been placed in. If it doesn’t work, well, at least the bait is nice.

He laughs and looks back down at the slit in your dress. “I mean, if you want to give me a name, I certainly wouldn’t refuse it.”

For a long, horrible second you freeze as your brain dusts off the correct lines of code. This is a party, and he probably thought you were offering your name to him! Thankfully, it’s a popular party, and you’re jostled from behind by guests more eager to get in than you are. You take the opportunity to duck your head down and scurry in the door.

Once inside, it seems like every woman in sight is wearing black. You’re the only one in red and the only one with any gold as a part of your outfit. Now you understand what the man meant about standing out. You scan the room looking for Nat so you can give her a piece of your mind. Two of the dresses you were choosing between had been black! When you see her, you slip between through a group of young blonde giggling women, and call out.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

Nat clearly recognizes your voice, because when she turns around, her expression is amused. “Yes? Were you looking for a place to hang up your wrap?”

“Not at all,” you say politely, glaring at her. “Maybe a location for the bathroom?”

“Miss Rushman, please tell me you and the lady in red are friends?” someone behind you asks. You recognize who it is and close your eyes, caught between excitement and regret.

“I don’t think I’ve ever won a bet this quickly in my life,” Natasha crows. She’s holding herself in such a unique way, as if she’s meant to be on display, but not know it? It would be compelling if you weren’t ready to toss her and her entire organization off the cliff face the house is built on.

The thing is, you don’t want to be impolite, and you did hope to at least meet the man once in your life, so you slowly turn around to greet Tony Stark. He’s wearing slick gray dress pants, a matching suit jacket, and a mottled maroon shirt that definitely costs a lot of money, if the way it’s clearly been tailored to fit over the glow of his ARC reactor is any indication. Your eyes are caught by that glow right away, but you’re brought out of your fascination by the sound of him clearing his throat.

You look up into Stark’s eyes, and you’re even more startled by the obvious interest you can see in them.

“A room full of people here to celebrate my birthday, and you’re the only one in red,” he says warmly. In most of his public appearances he comes across as sarcastic, combative, or arrogant. Right now he seems almost lit from within, like his whole body is smiling. The man is the very embodiment of charisma.

“It seemed like an obvious choice, but--” you look around at the rest of the partygoers, some of whom are looking over at the two of you with curiosity.

“Were you planning for me to unwrap you, later?” he asks, his voice dropping in register as well as sound level.

You suck in a breath, suddenly realizing what your attempt to cover up the bodice of your dress actually looks like in this context. You drop back a step, eyes wide.

“I honestly hadn’t-- I mean--” you stammer. Stark steps close to whisper in your ear. 

“Breathe.” He turns toward the overlook on the other side of the room and jerks his head for you to follow him. “C’mon.”

“I’d rather just--” you shake your head, but to your utter surprise, he grabs one end of your gold shawl and starts backing away from you toward the door to the balcony. Stark’s expression is smug; whether you stay still and let him have his dramatic dress reveal or follow him outside, he obviously gets what he wants either way.

You choose the less revealing of the two and rush after him with a fist pressed tight against your heart, in case he tugs too hard. The analogy maybe hits a little close, tonight. This man whose career you’d followed for so long is completely focused on you, and you can feel his pull in more than one way. If you could chase all of the other people away and really talk to him, you’d be in heaven. Their scrutiny is what’s most upsetting to you right now. 

Another partygoer opens the door for the two of you and greets Stark, who acknowledges the man the same way a world leader might greet a diplomatic subordinate, magnanimously, as if owed the attention by virtue of his position. He walks you all the way outside to the overlook, other groups of people drifting out of his way as if it’s only natural to do so. As you keep up with him you can't help but wonder if Tony Stark has ever had to wait to see an exhibit at a museum or art gallery. Given how much scrutiny the two of you are getting, you suspect he feels more kinship with the displays than the audience.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you might need to yarf over the side. Not used to parties?” Stark says, leaning on the wall and looking at you curiously. He lets go of the fabric of your coverup with a twist of his lips that tells you he definitely thought about yanking on it anyway.

“You know how you buck the trend of tech professionals being typically shy, introverted, and awkward around people?” you ask, looking out at the view instead of him.

“Mm hmm.”

The sheer warmth in his voice is setting your nerves on fire. Your crush is a bonfire inside of you, optimistically blazing as if it can burn away your life-long career of being tongue-tied around men.

“Well I don’t. Buck the trend, I mean.”

“You work in tech?” he says. His voice sounds closer than it did before, and you look over to see that he’s drifted over, a completely different expression on his face. It’s everything you’ve always wanted-- Tony Stark interested in you (maybe? hopefully??) for your mind. You nod. “Where do you work? What do you do?”

A group of women start singing Happy Birthday over in the main room, the one with a DJ. You must have made some kind of terrible face, because Stark laughs, reaches out a hand and rests it on your arm where you’re leaning on the wall to keep yourself standing. The touch singes your nerve endings, sending heat from the point of contact straight to your rapidly beating heart. 

You barely expected to meet the man, much less feel the way he can so easily alter your brain chemistry. 

That thought helps you focus, somehow, and you picture yourself connecting every one of your twelve social brain cells to say, “Software and mechanical engineering, mostly. I run a small, very small design firm. Go, please, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your party.”

“It’s Tony, and I would, if I didn’t think you’d bolt the second I turn my back."

“Don’t worry about that, there’s still a lot of your house technology I want to see,” you blurt out, looking with honest interest at the lit-up interior of his famous mansion. When you hadn’t been stressed out about the dress, the spy agency, and possibly letting Natasha down, you really have been excited to catch a glimpse of Stark’s innovations in situ.

His hand tightens on your arm as he bursts into genuine laughter, pulling your focus back to him. “You know, I think you’re the first woman who hasn’t tried to use that line to get into bed with me!”

“Oh God,” you breathe, stumbling back against the wall. What are you doing here? How did you think you had the skills to attend something like this??

“Hey, hey,” Stark says, stepping directly in front of you and setting a gentle hand on either of your upper arms. “Don’t fuck with my ego on my birthday, okay? You look light-headed, and not in the good way.”

You pull in a shaky breath to apologize even as your inner swoon meter heads for the clouds, but Tony fucking Stark sends it to the moon instead by setting a finger on your parted lips. You’re completely captivated by the march of emotions that cross his face-- amusement, apology, and ardor, before he lands on a sternness that is somehow sexier than any of it.

“I see how I just made it worse,” he says, stepping back with a sheepish expression. “I’m still calibrated to birthday babes, not engineering ones-- yep, that’s still-- okay,” he scrunches up his face and then grins, glancing over his shoulder to their growing audience, crossing his arms to look at you with studied curiosity. “Are you telling me you put on that dress so you could sneak into my party and ogle my… inventions?”

He has to know how well his tailored suit sets off the pinnacle of all his inventions right there in his chest!

“Not just that. I did want to meet you, I just didn’t think about--” you break off as he shoos away a few persistent, nosy guests and herds you into a more darkened area of the balcony. “This is your element, not mine,” you finally confess.

The understatement of the century.

“And if I could be in your element, what would that look like?” His tone is different now, sounding less arrogant, less persuasive, but more real.

Getting what you want shouldn’t be this easy. It feels wrong, tainted, and you back up out of a sense of responsibility, almost as a ‘fuck you’ to Nick Fury and his ability to turn the truth into something morally reprehensible.

“T-shirt and jeans. Coffee. Sitting on the floor talking about inventions. God, what am I doing here?” you groan.

“Tony!” someone calls out from inside, leaning out the glass door, obviously drunk.

Stark throws up a peace sign in reply, but he’s looking at you like a particularly interesting design problem. Natasha’s getting her way, and you feel like shit about it, because you want his attention, just not like this. Not planned, not calculated. You’d warned Nat that you were arriving, did she pull him over to stand where he would see you when you walked in? 

“Stop that,” Stark says, eyeing you with the expression of a concerned boss. “You’re starting to look queasy again. Tell you what: you want me to enjoy the party? You wanted to stand back and be a wallflower? Do that. Just don’t leave. Lemme get a chance to talk to you after you’ve loosened up a little.”

“Oh, I can’t drink! I have work to do when I get back home. It’s either that or first thing in the morning,” you laugh regretfully. “Besides, I get more shy when I drink alcohol. I’d just chameleon myself right into the woodwork.”

“You need time, you’re saying,” he murmurs, looking past you toward the ocean. A fleeting look of sadness crosses his face before he squares his shoulders and makes eye contact again, fully back in Playboy Persona. “I don’t believe you. Everyone loosens up with alcohol!” Suddenly, he snaps his fingers. “In fact, whatever you don’t drink? I will. Down your fair share or take the blame for how completely smashed I’ll get.”

Whatever it was you’d almost glimpsed has evaporated completely. Stark’s trying to corner you, just like Fury had done, and you react as you usually do in that situation. You lash out. “I think you already planned to get very drunk. You’re trying to manipulate me,” you say harshly, crossing your arms. The action pulls at your shawl, and you clutch at it.

“Sure, I’m the one manipulating you, when you show up dressed like a present for me to unwrap, playing at being uninterested,” he says, advancing on you like a predator. There’s a light in his eyes that tells you you’ve activated the reckless streak Fury warned you about, but it’s not anger, just intensity. It’s vulnerability and vanity all at once, loneliness covered by an iron carapace. “Who sent you? What’s your name? What’s your company’s name?”

“My name is Cat. My company is Envision,” you say quickly, avoiding your real name and slurring the actual name of the company into the word its name is based on. EnvisIron’s name is a play the building itself, which used to be an Iron Works. The foundry had been converted first into apartments, and then into storefronts on the bottom floor. There’s no way someone with Stark’s ego will believe that your company’s name has the word ‘Iron’ in it without that having anything to do with him, even though you and your partners named it before he ever created his first Iron Man suit.

Stark looks at you with put-on suspicion, probably because you dodged the first question. You can tell it’s fake because he’s holding back a smile even as he narrows his eyes at you. It’s really attractive, and you wish that there really was a world where you could hang out with him in scruffy clothes and chat. Nothing about the way he’s spoken to you tonight has implied the kind of classism you’ve seen people complain about from the uber rich. You already had a favorable opinion of him despite all the stories about his antics in the press, and that just raises it more.

“It was nice to meet you, Cat. I’ll talk to you later. Don’t forget, have a drink. Have a few. Save me from myself.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” you blurt out in reluctant compassion, hating both the sentiment and the comparison to what Nick Fury had said less than an hour ago.

Stark had walked away, but he stops and looks back at you. Something happens when you lock eyes; he looks caught out, as if he was planning something self-destructive, and you’ve momentarily made him reconsider. Not more than three seconds later, though, he shakes his head.

“You know what to do to stop me, Kitten,” he says. The quick smile he flashes you is defensive, hurt, and you decide that he must see you as some kind of proxy for an argument with someone else. After all, you’ve just met. You don’t know each other at all.

You watch Stark walk away from you and desperately wish something was different. You wish that Nick Fury hadn’t spoken to you. That you weren’t afraid that Stark only wants you to get drunk so he can pry your shawl off, rather than actually talk to you person to person. You wish that you didn’t care that he might want to pry the shawl off. That you actually were the kind of woman he seems to wish you were. 

You wish that Natasha hadn’t invited you at all.

Despite how overwhelmed you are, you do try.

Stark nurses a drink for the first fifteen minutes after walking away. A few partygoers try to talk to you, but their conversation is vapid and uninteresting for the most part. Mostly they want to know what Stark said to you, whether you know each other, if you’re dressed like you are for a purpose (question complete with eyebrow waggling and voices dripping with innuendo). 

You catch Stark looking over at you and noticing that your hands are still just holding your gold clutch and no drink. He holds up a finger, reaches over to snag a full glass from a server’s tray, and downs it in ten seconds. Then he points at you, making an 0 with his fingers, then at himself, holding up a 2, stripping off his jacket and tossing it behind the bar. It knocks over a bottle, and he shrugs, pulling out a bank note from his wallet and handing it over to the bartender while holding your gaze the entire time.

If you could survive taking a swing at Natasha, you almost would. This entire situation is spiraling out of control, and all you did was be yourself! 

You try to strike up a conversation with one of the waitstaff, but that can only last a short while, since you know they’re working. When you see him next, Stark’s got a third drink, and it’s half gone.

That’s when you give up and go to get a drink of your own. You ask for the weakest drink possible, of the smallest amount. The plan is to nurse it, since you know Tony Stark would figure it out if you tried to fake it. Just in case, though, you ask the bartender if he’d be willing to just hand you an empty glass to hold.

“I actually do that for alcoholics stuck at parties like this, but I can’t, not for you. Whatever competition you have going on with the boss is between the two of you.”

Everything gets much worse after only an hour.

Stark is wasted. Intellectually you know that you can’t possibly be the sole cause of the night’s decline. He’d led a chaotic public life before the kidnapping and betrayal of his mentor, but you definitely contributed to his alcoholic brinkmanship.

A half hour ago he’d disappeared for a few minutes and come back wearing some parts of his Iron Man suit. He was already drunk by then, but he was still throwing you challenging looks. Stark had set up outside not far from you, allowing a succession of giggling women to fire the force weapon in the palm of his Iron Man suit into the night air. Natasha had dodged him, and you’d seen Ms. Potts walk outside with a wrapped present and turn right back around to leave after seeing him pretend to smack one woman on the ass during the transition of handing over his gauntlet to the next one.

You’re pretty sure Stark had been trying to single you out as the only woman who hasn’t gotten to try on the gauntlet, but you aren’t influenced by that kind of challenge. The more you shrink back and look uncomfortable, the more Stark seems to lean into his demonstrably destructive behavior.

The only reason you haven’t tried to leave is the worry Stark will do something even more attention-getting to stop you.

You’ve gotten Tony Stark’s attention, all right. In the worst possible way.

“Anyone else? No? Time for the main event, then,” he says. “Everyone inside. Come on, all of you. Every last one.”

He stands by the glass door, and you slip inside among a group of women who are drunk enough to throw their arms around you as if you’ve been a part of their cadre the whole time. Stark disappears for a few minutes after that, and you head for the front door.

It’s guarded.

A well-dressed man in front of you is ushered out with polite deference, but when you try to follow him, the man in the black suit you’d met when you first arrived steps into the space.

“Sorry, I’m going to have to ask you to stay put.”

“On a spectrum of asking politely to straight up kidnapping, what am I looking at, here?” you ask, pushed to your absolute limit. At least he has the grace to look ashamed.

“Nothing so serious. How about firmly asking?” He moves towards you, and you back up out of necessity. “Here’s the thing: he’s had a rough--”

“Year?” you interrupt.

“Something like that. Asked me to make sure you stuck around. Could you do that? Not if it’ll make you miserable, or anything, but--”

“Your boss is extremely drunk,” you point out. You know what you want to say, but it’s… drastic. Still, this man does look genuinely concerned, as if Stark was his friend rather than just his employer. For all you know, he is. “Look, Mr.--”

“Hogan. I’m his bodyguard, his--” the man sighs. “Sometimes, his minder. And it sure seems like he would mind if you left early.”

You nod, biting your lip despite the lipstick. “Okay, I’m going to say this, and maybe it’ll be enough for you to kick me out.” His eyebrows shoot up, but you’re committed now. You’ve never spent so much time feeling cornered in a twenty-four hour period in your life! It looks like you might have to ask your clients to grant an extension, because you barely have any brain cells active enough to rub together-- but who are you kidding? You're totally going to wake up in about fifteen minutes, and none of this absurdist unreality will have happened. It's actually surprising how disappointed you feel at the prospect.

The bodyguard clears his throat, and you realize you've just been standing there freaking out in silence.

"Right, sorry: There are lines, and neither of us are going to cross them," you say firmly. "He’s completely wasted in there, so no matter what he thinks is going to happen tonight, I’m not a rapist, and you’re not a kidnapper, are we clear?”

There’s actual relief on Mr. Hogan’s face, which is both strange and comforting. “Yeah, we’re clear. Thank you.” The sound of breaking glass causes both of you to look over in trepidation at the main party room. Hogan pushes past you, and you follow.

Stark’s holding court at the DJ booth with a microphone. He's wearing the Iron Man suit with the faceplate flipped up, arguing loudly with Pepper Potts, whose face is a mask of miserable politeness. You can’t hear what they’re saying to each other, but Natasha comes over and starts talking to Hogan.

“Can you tell the valets that we’re going to need them in about five minutes? This powder keg is about to go off.”

“Shit, okay,” he says. “Did you catch what they’re--”

“She told everyone the party’s over, and he started complaining that she’s no fun,” Nat says, letting her gaze slide over you as she frowns back at where Stark’s stepped forward to address the crowd again. 

Hogan's body language screams concern as he says,“All right, both of you stay out of the way if the crowd starts for the door, all right? Pretty sure he’d have my ass if either of you got trampled.”

With that, the bodyguard jogs out, and you can hear him calling to other people outside, indistinct but insistent.

You’re trying to come up with something not profane to say to Natasha about how you feel about all of this when Stark shouts something about an After Party and the crowd goes wild. 

To be continued...

In this version of Tony's party, you're the only one in red! I'd like to think fate would adjust things to ensure that happens, even if it's not the version we see on screen.