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rafey-baby · 7 months ago

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older!rafe loves to put his fingers in sensitive!reader’s mouth & her favorite place in the world is his lap...

c/w: rafe being mean & making her choke on his fingers, heavily suggestive, size kink, use of daddy & dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.6k

in love w this man so more of him on the way xx

this is an additional part to this & u can read more here

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Rafe has had a bad day.

She notices it immediately by the way he greets her with only a brief peck on her cheek; carelessly throwing his jacket on the couch before slumping down against the cushions and letting out a washed-out exhale.

For the entirety of the week, gloomy clouds have painted over the dusty, colorless horizon and wet water puddles have saturated the socks of passing pedestrians and dog walkers alike. However, Rafe is not someone who particularly minds rainy days, which is why she assumes that the reason for his disgruntled mood has something to do with business, as it more often than not does.

He scratches at the buzzed hair still slightly damp from the rain while she simply stands there and blinks; unsure whether he wishes to be alone or not.

“What are you doin’? C’mere,” he suddenly orders in a somewhat of a stern tone and she has no choice but to pad over to his sprawled-out legs, lowering to sit on top of him and letting him paw at her waist as his beefy arms pull her closer. And she can't really complain when the heat of his body seeps into her flesh in such a comforting way; makes her insides feel all fluffy and featherlight.

In the same way that Rafe seems to enjoy her needing him to take care of her when everything feels like too much, she loves being there for him; likes to feel useful, needed.

“Do you wanna...talk about it?” the muted melody of her vocal cords reaches his ears as vivid raindrops pitter patter against the glass of the windows and he groans in exhaustion at how perfect she is for him.

“Not really,” he dismisses her with a shake of his head. “How was your day, hm?”

“It was uh, okay. I don’t know, the usual. Had some boring lectures, almost fell asleep…questioned every decision I’ve ever made,” she huffs out and settles her palms on his strong biceps.

“Mm,” he’s only half listening; beginning to mindlessly twirl a strand of her hair around his index finger.

And she takes that as her cue to continue blabbering out complete nonsense as she begins to grow slightly restless being this close to him. Truth be told, she’s pathetically been missing him the whole day; the only thing granting her the motivation to go about her routines being the thought of seeing him at the end of it all. And now that he’s here, he seems frustrated; mind entirely elsewhere and she doesn’t know what to do except ramble on and on about her dull day.

Then, completely out of the blue, he’s grabbing her jaw into his massive hand and hushing her.

“Shut up for one second, yeah?” he mutters out before he’s tucking a thumb past her lips; a surprised squeak leaving the back of her throat at the sudden intrusion because he was the one who asked for her to talk in the first place.

However, she can’t exactly say that it’s unexpected. He often gets a tad bit meaner whenever he’s had a dreary workday and takes it out on her in some form or another. And regardless of how unhealthy all of it might seem, there’s a crooked part of her brain that yearns for it; wants him to come to her whenever he’s upset. If she’s utterly honest, the thought of him searching for solace in anyone else makes nausea creep up her bones.

For some reason, the firm pad of his thumb making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth placates her; turns her brain into a needy, dingy muddle in a way that only Rafe is capable of.

“Shit, just needed somethin’ to suck on, huh?” he pushes down on her tongue, making her swallow around the digit with a whimper.

“So fuckin’ pathetic sometimes, you know? Just take anythin’ daddy gives you,” a low-pitched chuckle thunders from his chest, seemingly amused by the ease in which she gives into him.

However, there’s also something gooey, syrupy beginning to whirl in the pit of her tummy. It reminds her of the countless times she was perched on the park swing as a little girl during the balmy summers of her childhood; thinking she could reach the fluffy clouds with the tips of her sneakers if only she could fly a little higher.

“Feels nice to have somethin’ in your mouth, doesn’t it?” he ogles her, mesmerized with intrigue twinkling in the Carolina blue that has always made her think of the sky.

She lets out a faint moan when he drags the digit out and then back in, making her gag around it; her hips involuntarily rutting against the growing bulge straining against the zipper of his pants, desperate for some sort of friction if even through the soft material of her sweatpants.

“Didn’t give you permission to move, did I?” he feigns confusion with a furrow of his brows that gets her to reluctantly halt her shifting.

“Daddy, need your...” her words are cushioned against the obstacle he’s planted between her teeth.

“Can’t really hear you, baby,” he mocks before he’s pulling the thumb out of her mouth altogether.

However, the next thing she knows, he’s stuffing in his index and middle finger both at the same time. They reach far deeper; a muffled sound of gagging following his actions as he seems to discover a perverted sense of satisfaction from her struggle.

"What did you say?" his lips twist into a cruel smirk when she whimpers pitifully and tries to draw away from him in order to catch her breath but his other hand only grips her jaw tighter, keeping her exactly where he wants as she’s forced to breathe through her nose.

“I think you can take it for a bit longer, yeah?” his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he simply stares, seemingly absorbed into the obscene scene before him.

And she should feel embarrassed, demeaned even. And she does! However, the humiliation of letting him do whatever he wants as if she’s nothing but a cheap toy for his entertainment blurs over the lines when her cunt throbs in response to his degrading attention. She flutters uselessly around nothing; powerlessly begging for some sort of alleviation with a whine that merely earns her a tut of his tongue.

Therefore, the only thing she can do is sit there like an obedient animal because he’s already scolded her once. She hasn’t turned entirely dumb just yet; knows firsthand how ‘daddy doesn’t like to repeat himself’ and that the next time she misbehaves will result in a punishment her poor cunt probably wouldn’t be able to handle in this helpless state of hers.

“Don't think you could take dad’s cock even halfway in this pretty mouth,” he mindlessly croons, thumb smoothing over the skin of her throat as she swallows the spit beginning to dribble down her chin.

The thought manages to pique her curiosity because his cock has been at the forefront of her mind for a couple of weeks now, due to him constantly teasing her with the notion of letting her suck him off properly. He keeps murmuring about training her throat and fucking it raw but never actually doing it; merely allowing for her to drool and mouth over the tip because apparently, she's 'not ready yet'.

She’s beginning to turn into something desperate because whenever she tries to take more of him into her mouth, he stops her with a click of his tongue and big hands lifting her head off him. “Don’t be greedy now, sweetheart,” he’d scold her but she's certain she’s going to die if she doesn’t get to feel his cock nudge at the back of her throat soon.

“Ray…” she tries to fruitlessly speak but he’s not exactly making it easy as he keeps stroking against her tongue. However, she doesn’t need to say anything. He knows what she wants.

“I mean, can barely fit into this tight cunt, don’t know why you keep whinin’ about wantin’ me in this mouth so bad. Don’t think you’d even enjoy it that much. It’s a lot, you know?” there’s something almost patronizing in the way he’s speaking to her as if he’s not the one who brought the idea up in the first place.

It’s like he’s trying to talk her out of it yet his fingertips keep prodding past her gag reflex every few minutes, almost as if testing the waters before plunging in and it’s making her head spin.

She whines and tries to defend herself but the digits fussing with the inside of her slobbery mouth don’t allow for her to form anything audible as she begins to grow troubled.

“What was that?” the line of his mouth curls when he pokes deeper once more, causing her to moan with watery eyes pleading him for anything at this point.

“Such a dirty girl. Bet you’d like choking on my cock, huh?” he grunts and she hums in response; nodding fervently before he’s finally withdrawing his hand and smearing the spit-stained fingers against her pouty lips.

They’re both panting heavily as he gently swipes at her under-eyes in order to catch the teardrops ready to trickle down before petting at the apples of her cheeks with a tenderness reserved only for her.

“Shit, always know how to make me feel better, don’t ya?” he rumbles fondly against her mouth; following his saccharine words with a messy kiss soon after. Maybe he’ll finally allow her to have what she so badly craves.

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Title: Puppy Love.

Pairing: Yandere!Yuuji x Reader x Yandere!Yuuta

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Puppy!Yuuta, Puppy!Yuuji, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Somnophilia, Biting, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, and Obsessive Behavior.

You heard Yuuji, first.

He’d always been the louder of the pair, not that it was a very steep competition. You hadn’t had him for very long, but—well, it was less that he came out of his shell quickly and more that he’d never had a shell at all. It only taken a day or so for him to get used to the idea of living with you and Yuuta full-time, a week for him to start acting like he’d always been a part of your little family, and another month before he started pawing at your bedroom door at night and whining when you reminded him that you preferred to sleep alone (meaning: without multiple two-hundred pound hybrids draped across you). He was energetic, overly friendly, even if you wouldn’t go so far as to call him disobedient or difficult. You figured having a more, for lack of better phrasing, dog-like hybrid in the house would be good for Yuuta, bring out his more instinctive side. In reality, the added stress of an overly hyper roommate had only worked to make him just a little more anxious than he already was, but you still thought it was good for him. If nothing else, Yuuji gave Yuuta something to focus on that wasn’t you, and Yuuta could use more distractions.

But Yuuji, though—He was what you should’ve been focusing on, at the moment. Through the haze of exhaustion, you could hear the door creaking open, the muffled sound of padded feet on carpeting and the tiny, almost inaudible vocalizations Yuuji never seemed to realize anyone else could hear. Soon enough, you felt the foot of the mattress dip as he clambered onto your bed. Any other night, you would’ve forced yourself to sit up and tell him to leave, would’ve called on the dozens of books and hundreds of blogposts you’d read about hybrid obedience training and found the strength to ‘reinforce boundaries despite personal feelings’, but you were tired beyond the point of discipline, and Yuuji didn’t mean any harm. One night of letting him curl up next to you wouldn’t hurt, even if you did make a mental note to show Yuuta some extra affection in the morning – just to keep the scales balanced. For all their many differences, they were both prone to crying favoritism.

You never stirred, but you settled deeper into place, curling into yourself as Yuuji remained at your feet. You might’ve fallen asleep entirely, if Yuuji hadn’t spoken.

His voice was quiet, low, audibly trepidatious. It reminded you of Yuuta’s nervous, stuttering inclination, although not quite as unsteady. “Are you sure it’s alright to…?”

“I am.” You weren’t sure who you expected to answer, but the sound of Yuuta’s voice almost startled you awake. It was normal for Yuuji to bend the rules. Yuuta was supposed to know better. “She’s asleep, right? Just don’t wake her up.”

Yuuji didn’t respond, but you felt the sheets draped over your shift, a warm hand curl around your calf. For as little reassurance as Yuuta had provided, it seemed to be enough for Yuuji.

It was half curiosity and half fatigue that kept you quiet as Yuuji moved around you. Whatever they might’ve been up to, nothing could’ve seemed worse than having to wake up and sacrifice much-needed sleep for the sake of scolding your (usually angelic) pets. At worst, you’d wait until you could catch them in the act or, better yet, grit your teeth and bare it until they left. Anything not to have to deal with this for another eight hours.

You rolled onto your side, twisting your leg out of Yuuji’s hand and letting out a soft groan as you curled into yourself. It wasn’t a subtle position, let alone an inviting one, but Yuuji only whimpered, only edged closer to you. This time, when he touched you, it was to take up your shoulder – his hold gentle and breathing heavy as he nudged you onto your back. Whatever he was doing, he seemed determined to see it through. It might’ve been more admirable, if you hadn’t been so confused.

You felt your sheets pull away from you next, then another hand on your ankle, Yuuji’s rough claws pressing lightly into your skin as his loose grip flexed. You felt him draw your legs apart, and with the corner of your mouth already quirking downward, you started to open your eyes, to sit up and—

Suddenly, you felt something wet and warm press into your cunt, and you stopped moving entirely.

Whatever lingering exhaustion you might’ve felt was swiftly replaced with cold, pointed terror. This time, you forced yourself to hold still, it wasn’t out of confusion or curiosity, but an abrupt and paralyzing fear.

It wasn’t a feeling Yuuji seemed to share. His tongue was already moving across the length of your slit, his drool already soaking into the silk of your panties. He was making those noises, again; deep and throaty, closer to the sounds a prowling animal would make than anything remotely similar to human speech. Both of his hands found their way to your ass, claws biting into the plush flesh as he buried his face in your pussy. He was just as rough with his mouth – his pointed canines ghosting over the inside of your thighs and catching on the material of your panties, his broad togue laving over your covered entrance as if he could taste you through the fabric. It was only when he bowed his head, when the bridge of his flat nose ground against your clit that you started to wonder if he actually could, but forced yourself not to linger on the idea for very long. Thinking about what he was doing, assigning a motive to his actions – that would only make this worse. Thinking at all would only make this worse.

You bit down on the side of your tongue with as much force as you could afford to use, willing yourself to hold still, to not react – a wounded animal, playing dead as to not attract the attention of a predator. You felt Yuuji’s hands shift, calloused fingertips pressing into your thighs, then—

“Stop.”

Yuuta. Wonderful, miraculous, well-behaved Yuuta. You would’ve sighed, if you weren’t holding yourself so stiff. You could hear him moving closer, too – his footsteps feather-light compared to Yuuji’s. You braced yourself to break up a fight (there’d been a few when Yuuji first came home with you, when you first realized that Yuuta had never learned to share), but rather than barking, growling, any of the sounds that came with two animals trying to tear each other apart, there was only rustling fabric, another shift in gravity as Yuuta positioned himself by your side. “Y-you’re doing it wrong,” he stammered, and something deep inside of you seemed to curl up and die. “You have to take her clothes off first. Otherwise, she won’t feel anything.”

It was almost strange, hearing him take charge. In any other context, you might’ve been proud.

Yuuji whined, but obliged. His nails scraped against your hips as he balled his fist around the fabric and tore, making no effort to spare the delicate fabric. The remaining scraps were discarded with just as little care, and before you could fully wrap your mind around what was happening, he was back to lapping at your cunt. With the only barrier between you gone, it felt less like he was trying to eat you out and more like he was trying to eat you alive – his tongue too thick and too long, his hands too big and too prone to groping at whatever was underneath him, the boundless energy you were so used to finding either infinitely adorable or impossibly exasperating sudden not quite as harmless than you’d always considered it to be.

The next time he found your clit, you couldn’t stifle your reactions – little, half-choked whimpers and moans escaping despite your pursed lips. Your hips twitched, and for the first time, you felt Yuuji draw back willingly. He was such a sweet dog. Even with your eyes clenched shut, you could picture him tilting his head to the side, his ears flopping in the same direction and his big, dark eyes going full puppy-dog. Usually, you’d melt at the sight, give him whatever he was asking for and comfort him the best you could, but you didn’t have much comfort to spare, and Yuuta was already answering on your behalf.

“That means she likes it,” he explained, his voice a little quieter, a little more airy than it’d been before. “Keep going, she’ll make more.”

There was a short lapse, passed in silence. For a second, you let yourself believe he’d come to his senses, that he might stop, but it was only for a second. His response was enough to dash any remaining hope you might’ve had. “…will she get louder?”

“Mhm.” And then, with the slightest note of pride, “She does for me, at least.”

And just like that, Yuuji’s head dipped, his mouth latching onto your pussy with a renewed concentration. You willed yourself not to move, not to think, not to do anything that would mean having to open your eyes and acknowledge what was happening, but it was impossible not to feel the heat of his mouth against your cunt, not to let the sounds of saliva and arousal against tongues and skin seep into the back of your mind and tint the pleasure slowly starting to pool at the pit of your stomach with a vicious, sickeningly sweet, nectar-like quality. It wasn’t long before your own pitiful noises were just as difficult to suppress, before your hips were jutting upward involuntarily to meet Yuuji’s mouth, before you could feel a mix of drool and slick and every other ungodly thing pooling on your sheets beneath you. Yuuta shifted beside you, edging close enough for his thigh to press against your arm. “You’re—You’re making a mess, she’ll be mad if—”

His voice cut out abruptly, drowned out by a sudden, bubbling moan from Yuuji. Yuuta tried to catch his attention again to the same result until, finally, there was a low growl. Yuuji yelped has his face was shoved further into the space between your thighs – Yuuta pushing down on the back of his head, as little as you wanted to picture your sweet Yuuta doing something like that – but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his lapping only seemed to get faster, more reckless, more wild. You didn’t want to, no part of you wanted to cum because of your pet’s mouth, but you could feel the pressure mounting, the heat building, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his tongue as you reached your climax.

There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from crying out as you came, any hope you might’ve had of making it through this without letting either Yuuji or Yuuta know how much of it you’d been conscious for immediately abandoned. You tried to make good use of your adrenaline, to shove Yuuji away and run, but he’d always been strong, even for a hybrid, and he didn’t even have to pull away to pin your hips to the mattress and nurse you through your orgasm, his tongue now fucking into you unabashedly. He only stopped when the last of your aftershocks had died out, when it was all you could do to lie limp and mutter all the little ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘please’s that you’d pictured yourself screaming only seconds ago. Even then, the separation wasn’t made by choice – no, it was Yuuta who finally, finally dragged him off of you. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you could see his fingers knotted in Yuuji’s untamable hair, his knuckles white and his grip steadfast. By the time he let go, Yuuji’s back was straight and he’d gone surprisingly quiet – his dark eyes glassy and fixed on yours. By the time you could force yourself to look to Yuuta, he wasn’t much better. He was focused on you, too, but he didn’t look quite as dazed, quite as mindless. His lips were parted, but his eyes were narrowed, and he was wearing the expression he’d worn when you first brought Yuuji home, all displaced resentment and palpable betrayal. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might’ve called it anger.

Yuuji broke the silence. He whined sharply, slumping forward and kneading down where his hands were still planted on your hips. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him to get down, to get out, but Yuuta cut in before you had the chance to spit anything out. “Turn her over. It’ll be easier if she’s on her stomach.”

Yuuji didn’t hesitate. You felt his hands on your midriff, and then, you were on your chest, Yuuji’s form hunched over you as he ground something stiff and hot and leaking against your ass. You tried to push yourself up, to get away, but you were barely able to get your knees underneath you before Yuuji’s arms were around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his pointed teeth bared against the side of your throat. He didn’t growl, didn’t bite, but you went still regardless. You didn’t think Yuuji would hurt you, but you never would've thought he would do this, either.

Whatever aggression he might’ve felt faded quickly – as soon as he started rutting against your ass. You could feel him panting against your throat, his breath humid and stifling, and his chest pressing into your back. He was too close. He was too much. When he spoke, it was almost deafening, even if you knew it couldn’t be much more than a mumble. “Hurts so bad,” he muttered, as his cock ground uselessly against your ass, your thighs. “Been hurtin’ so bad since you took me home. I was so happy when Yuuta told me you could help, and—and, that you wouldn’t mind, and—”

His voice cut out abruptly as the blunt head of his cock caught on your entrance and, with a cracked whine, thrust into you. There was no time to adjust, to block out – just a sudden heat inside of you and the immediate, overwhelming fullness of his cock battering the walls of your pussy. “Off,” you half cried, half screamed – your voice a jagged, shaking mess. “Get down, stop, get—”

But Yuuji wasn’t listening. His tongue lapped clumsily at your neck as he fucked into in slow, languid thrusts – his hips slamming into your ass with enough force to bruise. You went limp, sobbing openly into your sheets, but Yuuji was strong enough to hold you up on his own, to not have to care what state you were in underneath him. So caught up in your own misery, you didn’t notice Yuuta moving until he was in front of you, until his hand had worked its way underneath your chin and tilted your head back far enough for your tear-clouded gaze to find his. His expression was that same mix of resentment and pity and bitter, bitter anger. Still, when your eyes met his, the corner of his lips quirked up, some of the harsher lines around his eyes fading into nothing.

“I wouldn’t be this rough with you.” His tone was flat, softened. He ran his thumb over your cheek, leaning down just far enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head. “I would be a good mate. You don’t need anyone else.”

Again, he leaned in, slotting his lips against yours with a feather-light sort of gentleness. At the same time, you heard Yuuji moan, felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, and started to wish you couldn’t feel anything at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #hybrid au #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jututsu kaisen imagines #yandere itadori yuji #yandere yuji #yuji x reader #yuta x reader #yandere yuta #yandere okkotsu yuta

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Hybrid AU with Ragdoll!Reader and Siberian-mix!Konig

Reader is a rescued cat hybrid that Laswell's sister in law has been taking care of for the last 3 months. When she meets this little ragdoll kitty, so bright and friendly and curious, she immediately thinks of the 141. Hybrids have a lot uses in the government. Sometimes combative, sometimes therapeutic. The 141 could use a companion animal, given the close call Soap recently had and the general trauma the whole squad has.

With the kitty's permission and cooperation, they assess her as a possible therapy placement. She tests so well and so high that Laswell (again, with consent) immediately starts paperwork to place her with the 141 before even bringing it up to Price.

He's a bit skeptical at first. Even without being a combat hybrid, their jobs are high stress, very dangerous, and not very stable. But Laswell convinces him to at least meet Ragdoll.

They do introductions at the sister-in-law's house, where the kitty will be most comfortable. Ragdoll takes one sniff of him and starts purring like a little engine. He's visibly surprised, and Laswell can barely hold back her grin as the kitty climbs into his lap. They spend the rest of the afternoon discussing arrangements while his new hybrid naps because obviously he can't say no now.

Price becomes her primary handler. They move her to his barrack and give her a week to settle in, but she's not a skittish thing by any means. Wants to follow him everywhere, curls up in his bed, meows sadly at the door when he leaves her alone. It becomes clear very quickly that the usual introduction manuals are too slow for her.

Kitty meets Kyle next. Again, instant purrs. She presses her cheek into his palms, then wriggles her way closer to brush up against his cheek. Lets out a little "mrrp!" when he stutters out a pleasantly surprised, "hello there." She nibbles at the brim of his hat and grins when he gently redirects her, chirping at this fun new friend.

Two for two, Price and Kyle decide to introduce her to Simon and Johnny. They let her explore the common room first, get comfortable, and then call the other two in. Kitty watches from behind Price as Simon and Johnny enter.

Johnny is a dog hybrid with Simon as his primary handler. Price has faith that his sergeant will behave well with the new kitty, but he's not sure of what her reaction will be. Johnny's obviously, visibly excited, tail wagging, but Simon gets him to sit and wait while she makes the first move.

It takes absolutely no time at all for her to pad out from behind Price and approach. Simon goes first, offering a hand. But she barely even sniffs him before cuddling up to him, pawing curiously at his mask. He lets her, clicking his tongue when she dislodges it a bit, but then he gently nudges her towards Johnny.

His ears are perked forwards, tail still swishing. Kitty's ears are twitching, eyes big and curious. But her tail is up and curved curiously, not even a little fluffed. She gets in real close to his face, sniffs, then bumps her forehead against his chin. Which is when he loses patience and licks a big stripe up her cheek. She mews indignantly, ears going airplane mode, but thankfully doesn't swat at him.

It literally couldn't go better. She's a perfect fit.

Over the next few months she settles in with them happily, an absolute dream of a hybrid. Not very verbal, at least through human speech, but perfectly communicative and incredibly friendly.

She chirps whenever one of the 141 enters a room, has a different tone for each of them. Purrs if one of them so much as looks at her, all slow blinks and little smiles. Chitters when she sees them running outside through the windows.

Even grooming is relatively easy. She lets them brush out her floofy tail without much fuss, only trying to retreat if they catch a tangle. Readily gives up her hands to trim her claws. Even opens her mouth for them to brush off her fangs after raw meals.

She curls up with Simon on bad days, warm and purring, breathing little puffs of air against his collarbone. Lounges with Kyle after hard missions, nuzzling against him while he pets her soft ears. She spends hours upon hours in Price's office, curled up on his lap while he does paperwork or talks over the phone, kneading biscuits into his stomach.

Her friendship with Johnny is maybe the most surprising. They play wrestle just about every night, rolling around on the rough carpets in the common room and nipping at each others ears. She'll pounce on him, little teeth flashing, but almost always get bodied by his larger stature. The others will let them play until one of them - usually Johnny - gets too excited and makes the other yelp. At that point, Price or Simon will usually scoop one of the hybrids up and tsk at them for getting rough.

She's the 141's precious kitty, sweet and friendly and outgoing. The whole base knows her, though she's never far from one of her boys. And they know what it means if Ragdoll doesn't like someone.

It's rare, which is why it raises neon red flags. The first time is a new recruit that reaches to pet her without introducing himself first. She twists around on him, but usually even that would be recoverable. Except when he keeps trying to touch her, she gets a whiff of him and hisses, scrambling away.

The guy doesn't last long.

It happens again a few weeks later with a nurse meant to be giving her checkup. She gets low to the table, tail poofing up, and growls low in her throat. When the nurse rolls her eyes and tells Price to just hold his hybrid still so they can get things over with, he knows instantly that his little ragdoll was right to react that way.

With that in mind, it's no surprise that no one trusts Philip Graves when he visits their base and she takes an instant dislike to him. He introduces himself correctly, but she still hard reverses away from him, nose scrunched up. Ears back, tail fluffing up, she slips behind Price and glares from around his arm.

Problem is, Graves is used to dog hybrids. He's great with them. Kitties... not so much, even with a manual. Ends his week at the base with a couple of proper bite marks and an itchy scratch on his hand.

Given her reaction, Simon and Johnny aren't too shocked when he betrays them in Las Almas.

When a team from KorTac is scheduled for a joint assignment, the 141 is bracing for a similar reaction. Especially because they have their own cat hybrid - some big mixed breed.

Kyle even suggests keeping Ragdoll inside for initial introductions on the tarmac, but they all know that's not actually viable. Their kitty wouldn't talk to them for the rest of the day if they left her out like that.

So Price double checks that her little bell-collar is on and brings her out to meet the KorTac team.

Their cat hybrid is even bigger than expected - no wonder he's a combat placement despite being a domestic breed. He keeps his face hidden behind a big black hood with cutouts for his ears, fluffy tail slightly tangled-looking.

Price hasn't even finished introductions with the KorTac team when she makes a rolling little chur noise, bright and curious. The bigger hybrid zeros in on her instantly, ears flicking. She pads out from behind the captain and slips away before he can catch her. Any calls for her to come back are fully ignored.

She trots right up to the Austrian and mrrps again, pausing mid-step, waiting for a response. The other hybrid doesn't respond - at least he doesn't seem to.

"Sorry, kitten, but he doesn't really do the cat noises," Declan tries to tell her. But he's also ignored, and no sooner has he spoken than she's getting into the other cat's space, continuously making little "brr" noises.

And then to everyone's shock, he's bending down to greet her in return, nuzzling her cheek and forehead through the hood. She starts to purr, pressing up close, tail swishing lazily. A noise erupts from him, deep and rough, rattling in his chest. Johnny jumps and snatches at her shirt, dragging her back to the safety of their team.

She mewls sadly, arms extended to reach for him.

"He's growling, Doll," Johnny corrects, arms curling around her middle. For the first time ever she starts to wriggle. "He's too big for you to mess with."

"I... wasn't growling," the Austrian pipes up. "I apologizes if I caused alarm."

Johnny shoots him an incredulous look.

"Then what was that?" Kyle asks, confused.

"I don't... often purr."

Price takes one look at their still-wiggly kitty and the Austrian leaning towards her, as if wanting to follow, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Shit."

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #reader fic #fanfiction #hybrid au #ragdoll!reader #siberian-mix!Konig #konig #konig cod #konig x reader

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sushiyuzu · 6 months ago

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jealous kitty

warning: fluff — subby kitty!sylus / hybridkitty!sylus gets unexpectedly jealous when your friends come over & you talk about other guys 🐾😾

- second acc: @blushpawss

you notice it the first time when your friend stops by to drop off some books. sylus is curled up in his kitty form on the windowsill, his silver fur catching the sunlight.

you found him a few weeks ago, wandering near the park on your way home from class. at first, you thought he was just a stray, but as you got closer, he meowed softly and walked right up to you, rubbing against your leg. his red eyes sparkled with curiosity, and something about him tugged at your heartstrings. you couldn’t resist picking him up and bringing him home, where he quickly made himself comfortable.

he usually stays calm and quiet when other people come over, but the moment your friend steps inside, you see his red eyes narrow. as you chat, he jumps down from the windowsill and pads over to you, his tiny paws barely making a sound on the wooden floor.

without warning, he hops onto the couch and nudges his way onto your lap. it’s not unusual for him to sit there, but he’s never done it so suddenly before. you smile and stroke his soft fur, feeling him purr loudly. your friend laughs, thinking it’s adorable, but you catch the way sylus’s fluffy tail flicks back and forth, almost like he’s annoyed. you shrug it off, figuring he just wants attention.

but then it happens again.

the next time your friend comes over, you’re both sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea. you don’t notice sylus at first, but then you feel something warm and soft pressing against your legs. you look down to see him, still in his kitty form, rubbing insistently against your knees. his red eyes glance up at you, and he lets out a tiny, impatient meow.

you start to wonder when it becomes a pattern. every time someone visits, sylus is there—watching, hovering, and always making sure he’s as close to you as possible. sometimes, when you mention other guys, you notice how his fur bristles just a tiny bit, his ears flattening for a second before he quickly looks away, pretending to be interested in something else. you think it’s cute, even if you don’t quite understand why he does it.

“you’re so needy today, huh?” you tease, bending down to pick him up.

he settles in your arms, purring loudly, but you can feel his little body tense when your friend laughs again. his ears twitch, and you notice how he refuses to look at your friend, focusing only on you as if no one else is in the room. you laugh it off, scratching behind his ears, and he presses his face into your hand, almost like he’s trying to hide.

one afternoon, you’re sitting on the couch with a friend, talking about an old classmate who used to have a crush on you. sylus is in his kitty form, resting on the other side of the couch, seemingly relaxed. but when you mention how that classmate had given you a gift, you see him go still, his eyes narrowing slightly. he gets up, stretches lazily, and then walks right over to you, nudging your arm with his soft head.

“what’s up, sylus?” you ask, a little amused as you pet him. instead of purring, he climbs onto your lap and curls up there, almost squashing himself against your chest. you laugh, scratching behind his ears. “jealous, huh?” you say, half-joking.

he doesn’t respond, but his purring starts again—loud and deep, vibrating against your chest. you feel the warmth of his tiny body, and you can’t help but think he’s being a little possessive.

your friend leaves soon after, and when you’re alone, sylus shifts into his human form, sitting beside you on the couch. his silver hair falls into his eyes, and there’s a hint of a pout on his face.

“you’re always sitting on my lap when i talk to other people,” you tease lightly, nudging him with your elbow. he looks away, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, his voice soft and almost sulky. you laugh and reach out to ruffle his hair, but he catches your hand, holding it gently.

“you do care, don’t you?” you ask, your voice quieter now. his red eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, he looks so vulnerable, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how.

he lets go of your hand and shifts back into his kitty form, curling up against your side. you sigh, leaning back and stroking his soft fur, feeling his purrs echo through the room. you don’t press him for answers, content to just have him close.

the next time your friend comes over, sylus is already on your lap, his fluffy tail wrapping possessively around your wrist. your friend laughs, calling him “your shadow”, and you smile, but you can’t ignore the way sylus’s eyes follow your friend’s every move. after your friend leaves, you look down at him, his small body warm and soft against you.

“you really don’t like it when i talk about other people, do you?” you say softly, scratching under his chin. his red eyes close slowly, and he nuzzles closer, pressing his face into your arm as if trying to tell you without words.

you chuckle and lean down to kiss the top of his head. “it’s okay,” you whisper. “i’m not going anywhere.”

he purrs louder, his body relaxing against you, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind his possessiveness at all.

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bestanimal · 2 months ago

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Round 3 - Mammalia - Lagomorpha

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Our Our next mammalian order and first of the clade Glires is Lagomorpha. Lagomorphs are separated into two living families: Leporidae (“rabbits”, including “hares”) and Ochotonidae (“pikas��).

Lagomorphs are characterized by having four incisors in the upper jaw (smaller peg teeth behind larger incisors), whereas rodents only have two. Like rodents, their incisors grow continuously, requiring constant chewing on fibrous food to prevent the teeth from growing too long. All lagomorph teeth grow continuously (for most rodents, only the incisors grow continuously). They have no paw pads, instead, the bottoms of their paws are entirely covered with fur. Rabbits move by jumping, pushing off with their strong hind legs and using their forelimbs to soften the impact on landing. Lagomorphs are almost strictly herbivorous. Pikas are known for making "haypiles" of dried vegetation which they collect and carry back to their homes to store for use during winter, since they do not hibernate. Lagomorphs are widespread around the world and inhabit every continent except Antarctica. However, they are not found in most of the southern cone of South America, in the West Indies, Indonesia, or Madagascar, nor on many islands. They are not native to Australia, but have been introduced there by humans.

Lagomorphs are unusual among terrestrial mammals in that the females are usually larger than males. Many lagomorphs breed several times a year and produce large litters. The young of rabbits and pikas (called kits, or leverets in hares) are born after a short gestation period and the mother can become pregnant again almost immediately after giving birth. Most lagomorph newborns are altricial (born with no fur and their eyes and ears closed), while true hares (genus Lepus) are precocial (born fully furred with their eyes and ears open). The mothers are able to leave their kits safely and go off to feed, returning at intervals to feed them with their unusually rich milk. In some species, the mother only visits and feeds the litter once a day but the kits grow rapidly and are usually weaned within a month. Most burrowing lagomorph species are colonial, feed together in groups, and have multiple large litters throughout the year. Non-burrowing species are typically solitary and have one or two smaller litters each year.

The evolutionary history of the lagomorphs is still not well understood. In the late 20th century, it was generally agreed that Eurymylus, which lived in eastern Asia and dates back to the Late Paleocene or Early Eocene, was an ancestor of the lagomorphs. Further examination of fossil evidence suggests that the lagomorphs may have instead descended from mimotonids, mammals present in Asia during the Paleogene with similar body size and dental structure to early European rabbits such as Megalagus turgidus, while Eurymylus was more closely related to rodents. The Leporids first appeared in the Late Eocene and rapidly spread throughout the Northern Hemisphere. The pikas appeared somewhat later in the Oligocene of eastern Asia. Today, lagomorph lineages seem to be declining, as they were far more diverse in prehistory.

Propaganda under the cut:

The smallest living leporid is the Pygmy Rabbit (Brachylagus idahoensis) (image 3) with adults weighing between 375 and 500 grams (0.8 and 1.1 lb), and having a body length between 23.5 and 29.5 cm (9.3 and 11.6 in). The Pygmy Rabbit is the only leporid native to North America that digs its own burrow.

Unlike many other rabbits, the critically endangered Riverine Rabbit (Bunolagus monticularis) has a low breeding rate of only one to two offspring per year.

The Riverine Rabbit provides a benefit to farmers by causing the riverine vegetation that it eats to bind to the soil and prevent soil erosion through flooding. Through this process, the vegetation allows for filtration of rainwater into groundwater. This benefits farmers, who rely on windmills to draw up water from the ground for their livestock.

The endangered Hispid Hare (Caprolagus hispidus) is only seen sporadically, and was thought to be extinct prior to its rediscovery in Bornadi Wildlife Sanctuary in 1971. It was not seen between 1984 and January 2016.

Many rabbits and pikas rely on their burrows to escape from predators, but the long-legged hares (genus Lepus) rely on their speed and jinking gait to escape from danger. Hares can run up to 80 km/h (50 mph) over short distances.

Some hares turn white in the Winter, to better camouflage against the snow.

In the Spring, the normally shy and solitary hares can be seen congregating and members of both sexes will have leaping and “boxing” competitions. During the mating season, males will not only box to compete over females, but females may box to dissuade males they don’t want to mate with, or test a male’s determination and fitness. This sudden rise in chasing, leaping, and boxing behavior gave rise to the idiom "mad as a March hare".

The European Hare (Lepus europaeus) is one of the largest lagomorph species, with a head and body length of 60 to 75 cm (2 to 2.5 ft), and added tail length of 7.2 to 11 cm (2.8 to 4.3 in). Its body mass is typically between 3 and 5 kg (6.6 and 11 lb). It is rivaled by the Alaskan Hare (Lepus othus) which can measure between 50–70 centimetres (1.7–2.3 ft) in length, with the tail measuring up to an additional 8 centimetres (3.1 in), but weighing between 2.9 to 7.2 kg (6.4 to 15.9 lb).

The Snowshoe Hare (Lepus americanus) and the Arctic Hare (Lepus arcticus) (image 1) have been known to occasionally scavenge dead animals. This is an adaptation to their Wintry environment, where nutrients are scarce.

Mountain Hares (Lepus timidus) are routinely shot in the Scottish Highlands both as part of paid hunting "tours" and by gamekeepers managing Red Grouse (Lagopus scotica) populations (who believe that Mountain Hares are vectors of disease that could affect the birds). Much of this activity is secretive, but investigations have revealed that tens of thousands of hares are being culled every year.

At the Yangjiesha site of Loess Plateau, there has been found evidence of neolithic humans taming local Tolai Hares (Lepus tolai).

One of the rarest lagomorphs in the world is the Sumatran Striped Rabbit (Nesolagus netscheri). It was so rare that locals did not have a name for it, or even for rabbits, as they had never seen it. It is rarely observed in camera traps and by scientists. Nevertheless, in 2022 officials scrambled when a farmer was caught attempting to sell a Sumatran Striped Rabbit he caught in a flash flood on Facebook. Kerinci Seblat National Park authorities confiscated the rabbit and returned it to the wild.

Domestic Rabbits (Oryctolagus cuniculus domesticus) were domesticated from European Rabbits (Oryctolagus cuniculus) for their fur and meat by the Romans around the 1st Century BC, though “house rabbits” only began to be strongly promoted around the 1980s. Today there are hundreds of rabbit breeds originating from all over the world. Domestic Rabbits can be trained to use a litter box and taught to come when called, but they require exercise and can damage a house or injure themselves if it has not been suitably “rabbit-proofed”, because of their innate need to chew. Rabbits are the third most abandoned pet in the United States, especially after the Easter holiday. Domestic Rabbits, bred for generations by humans to be docile, lack survival instincts and perish in the wild if they are abandoned or escape from captivity.

The endangered Amami Rabbit (Pentalagus furnessi) (image 2) is often called a “living fossil”, as it is a remnant of ancient rabbits that once lived on the Asian mainland, where they died out, remaining only on two small Japanese islands where they live today. They are threatened by invasive Domestic Cats, Dogs, and Small Indian Mongooses (Urva auropunctata).

When threatened, the Swamp Rabbit (Sylvilagus aquaticus) can leap into the water and swim, sometimes keeping only their nose and eyes above the water.

Lagomorphs can process easily digestible food in their gastrointestinal tract and expel it as regular feces. But, in order to get nutrients out of hard to digest fiber, lagomorphs ferment fiber in their cecum (in the GI tract) and then expel the contents as cecotropes, which are then reingested (cecotrophy) or stored for later. The cecotropes are absorbed in the small intestine to best utilize the nutrients.

The Sardinian Pika (Prolagus sardus) went extinct sometime between 393 BC and the 6th century AD. It was the last surviving member of Prolagus, a genus of lagomorph with a fossil record spanning 20 million years once widespread throughout Europe during the Miocene and Pliocene epochs. The Sardinian Pika was much stockier and more robust than living pikas, and it probably resembled a sort of cross between a large wild rabbit and a pika. Its extinction was possibly due to agricultural practices, the introduction of predators (dogs, cats, and ferrets), ecological competitors (rodents and rabbits), and/or transmission of pathogens by rabbits introduced to Sardinia and Corsica by the Romans. Today, only the pika genus Ochotona remains.

The Chinese Red Pika (Ochotona erythrotis) is one of the largest pika species, averaging a length of 18 to 29 cm (7-11.4 in). They have both a Winter and Summer pelt. In the Summer, the Chinese Red Pika has a coat that is rusty-red at the head and chest and fades into grey towards the tail. In the Winter, the pika is mostly grey with a slight tint of red in the ear region.

The Ili Pika (Ochotona iliensis) is also known as the “Magic Rabbit”. It is endangered, with approximately fewer than 1,000 left.

Collared Pikas (Ochotona collaris) have been known to store dead birds in their burrows for food during winter.

The Steppe Pika (Ochotona pusilla) has been called a relict of the Late Pliocene on the basis of its fossil record, molar structure, karyological traits, and mtDNA sequence data. During the Pleistocene its range was larger and included most of Europe.

The endangered Hoffmann's Pika (Ochotona hoffmanni) is not social, except for with its mate. Pairs will claim territory together and share a hay-storage, which they store together. They are very territorial of their claimed rock formation.

In the mountains of Eurasia, pikas often share their burrows with snowfinches (genus Montifringilla), which build their nests there.

#animal polls #round 3 #mammalia

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gatorbites-imagines · 6 months ago

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Kinktober day 19

Donquixote Doflamingo + Dom/Sub

Readers a snow leopard mink, because ive never ever seen a fic with a mink reader in it. Reader is also 7ft5. I didn’t have too much time to write today, so I did what I could.

2024 kinktober masterlist

Donquixote Doflamingo was not a man who gave up control, be it in business, piracy, or his private life. Or rather, he used to be. There was one person he had let himself submit too, somebody no one would ever suspect. Minks had a tendency to stay away from most of the world, so who would ever come to the conclusion that the one person Doflamingo gave himself up too was a snow leopard mink.

Doflamingo was also not the type to go down without a fight, meaning you two got all battered and bruised before everything was settled. For the most part, the situation was ever only truly settled when you got the seastone cuffs on him, if not the collar you had specially made for someone his size.

The first many times, Doflamingo had panicked when he felt his connection to his powers flicker out as his body grew heavy, weak, and sluggish. As someone who never wanted to be weak in any way, it was scary. The blonde tried his damnest to not let this fear show, but there was a tension to his usual grin and bulging forehead vein.

In the beginning it was a slow process of simply getting comfortable. You were very comfortable for the most part, not even having to undress to spend this time with him. And when he got a bit too worked up, you were always able to calm him with your paws or tail.

Doflamingo didn’t have many enemies that were mink, once again blamed on the fact that mink stayed out of most business outside their own. Which meant that when he started getting antsy and tense, feeling your fur and paws helped settle him again.

Much of the dynamic you two had built, was based on trust, which was in short supply for the both of you, making the process of building what you had even longer. It was especially hard for Doflamingo to trust you to even let you tie him up, much more to put the seastone on him. For a long time, there had to be mechanisms built into the cuffs or collar so that he could pull it off himself.

It took even longer for it to become more, to become hotter and carnal. You two still did it when there wasn’t that heavy dynamic about it, even if it regularly resulted in you two just as bloody and bruised up.

Doflamingo would regularly walk out of your normal get togethers covered in claw marks and bites, his bruises so much clearer than yours, which laid under your fur. He had complained about it multiple times, that Doflamingo couldn’t leave hickeys on you, hed even gone as far as you suck one onto your paw pads, just to return the favour in some way.

But slowly, over time, something fragile but true was built between you. it even reached a point where Doflamingo would contact you when he needed “your assistance”. You had almost felt your heart flutter when Doflamingo even started coming to you, curling his big height down against your side or by your feet, his hands searching out your tail to pet at it for comfort.

Yeah, there were times he needed you to forcefully take control, but there were also those rarer times where the mighty Doflamingo just needed to be held, to be someone not so powerful and important. This was when Doflamingo brought in different toys or items, like a blindfold and earmuffs, even different mittens and leg clamps to leave him completely at your mercy.

He had looked so meek and downright shy the first time he brought out the bit. It looked like the kinda thing you put in a horse’s mouth, even with a lead attached, along with everything else. It had been such a sign of the trust you had been trying to build, that your tail flicked quickly from side to side as your fur puffed up.

It gave you a sense of carnal power, to be able to slowly walk around the room carrying the lead, Doflamingo crawling after you completely blind, deaf, and mute. The bit did nothing to contain his moans and groans, or to stop all the drool and spit dripping from his mouth as he licked at the material, searching for something more.

He was almost sweet as Doflamingo curled up on his giant bed, resting his head on your furry stomach as you ran your paw through his hair. It was endearing in a way, to see how he rubbed his head up and down, trying to smoosh or maybe suffocate himself against you. It left you with a feeling that if he happened to be a mink, he must have been purring.

His drooling was a little out of hand, as it always left your fur soaked, but what could you expect from a man who stuck his tongue out as much as Doflamingo did. It was a no brainer that Doflamingo liked to use his mouth, it was a need that ran deep, he just needed something in his mouth to focus on.

Having paws and fur always made it a little awkward to give him your fingers, even if Doflamingo licked and sucked at them with a happy muffled moan. Having him kiss and pamper your paw pads was a bit easier, since there was actual skin he could lick at and attach himself too, but even they grew raw at times from his insistent need.

You never thought hed actually go along with licking your boots when you ordered him too the first time. Your paw pads were simply suckled raw and aching, as hed been on them for the past hour or two. Some deal must have driven him up into a corner which was why he needed to be taken somewhere else.

Afterwards Doflamingo would deny liking it, gaining faint whisps of red in his cheeks if you as much as mentioned it, but your boots still became a more regular part of your time together. Most of the time what you did together wasn’t even anything too lewd, it was more just leaning into the dynamic you both needed. You needing to feel in control and to care for somebody, and Doflamingo needing to give away responsibility for a while.

Neither of you spoke much about it outside of the bedroom, or wherever you two found yourself this time. You were both your own people with your own business and duties, too busy to let the dynamic play a role in the daily like. Even if Doflamingos zebra print pants were replaced with snow leopard spots, and even if you started keeping a couple of pink feathers in your pocket.

#male reader #mink reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #one piece #donquixote doflamingo x male reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo imagine #donquixote doflamingo headcanon #doflamingo x male reader #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo imagine #doflamingo headcanon #one piece imagine #one piece headcanon #one piece x male reader #one piece x reader #one piece x mink reader

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mistfallengw2 · 7 months ago

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How do charr hands function? Here's my headcanon (with drawings!)

So I made this poll earlier today and I ended up making some sketches to explain how I headcanon charr hands and their supposedly retractable yet too big claws. The idea is that both the game and the books are partially right: claws can be big (not as big as the models), and they're semi-retractable (so fully-fluffy paws). [Disclaimer: I am bad at anatomical drawings and did not try to make them super accurate :')]

Basically charr fingers are made of three phalanges, but functionally they're just two, with the 2nd and 3rd being much shorter and sort of "merging" with the claw itself, which is mostly supported by the 3rd and starts very close to the knuckle between them. The palm is covered almost entirely by a skin pad/paw pad, which usually extends to the first phalanx of each finger, and the fingertips are covered by pads as well.

The claws are semi-retractile, though the exact range of motion depends on the individual's genetics (claw size and shape + hand anatomy) and preferences (how much they trim the claw). The ability to retract their claws is managed by specialized extra tendons and muscles in the hand's structure, and they can lock the claw in place or move it, even while the fingers are bent, though with some limitation at the extremes of movement. While the claw at rest will stay at a "safe" angle, the claw's bed can shift on the cartilage structure when pulled, sliding back into a "sheathed" position or be pushed outwards. [note: I was too scared to go too far with the "x-ray" sketches and probably the claws could go a bit further back in the finger lol]

Ancestrally, this system kept the claws from always digging into the ground and losing sharpness when running on all fours, while still allowing for extra grip when necessary (similar to cheetahs) and the use when fighting or taking down prey. During the evolutionary transition in which charr started walking upright most of the time and using tools, it lost some of its ancestral necessity and functionality. However, instead of turning into something vestigial, charr evolved the ability of controlling each claw's movement independently from the rest of the finger, allowing for greater precision, fine motor skills and dexterity.

The pad grants grip and softer manipulation of items, while the claw handles movements finer and more precise than the pad allows, and other races find it complex, fascinating or a bit freaky. Some say that charr are as dexterous than humans, if not more, which is quite an accomplishment for creatures with such big hands.

That said, variety is huge among charr. Some have stubby paws with big, wide claws, while others have long, slender fingers with narrow claws.

Claws are still used as a natural weapon by many soldiers, but it's totally not uncommon for charr to file their claws down or keep them blunt, as there's a huge variety of reasons for not wanting sharp knives on one's fingers (job requirements, handling of delicate materials, safer interactions with cubs or creatures with softer skin, personal preference, etc), and some even keep their claws at different lengths for specific uses.

That said, claws can't be trimmed beyond the quick without bleeding or potential damage, and since it extends out of the sheath it's not possible for a charr to fully sheath their claws. Claws grow quite fast to make up for the daily wear and tear, so upkeep must be done regularly, as trimming too much might temporarily impact coordination. Declawing can happen during combat or following injury, and those affected might wear prosthetics/fake claws to make up for it.

#gw2 headcanons #gw2 charr #charr #my art #charr anatomy #gw2 lore rambling #btw hind paws and their claws are different and I have a whole other headcanon for the dewclaw with spur. and teeth number too #anyway everyone who draws charr hands does a great job at it so don't take this as gospel. I'm just trying to wrap my head around anatomy #but damn did I just really draw hands and fingers without despising them completely? O:#gotta keep telling myself that this isn't useless cuz I'm helping myself figure out stuff. the ocs drawings will be better now!#edit: since someone mentioned the term... I guess the claws are technically protractible as well? 🤔 oh well they still move lol

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gremlinmodetweeker · 6 months ago

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Seeing all this stuff on Cat König and Horangi being complete assholes just makes me wonder how they’d act if they saw their caretaker just..genuinely upset..like when they’d usually be yelling at König for eating all the food or at Horangi for being a little destructive goblin their just nowhere to be found, and of course they get confused because come on..the person who’s always yelling just goes silent out of nowhere? So when they look for them they find them just in their bed, completely covered up, not moving, and that just makes me wonder how they’d react, would König go for the sit on them till they suffocate and have to move..Horangi with the constant baps..or would they actually try to give them little head buts or just lay by them? I don’t know it just seems like an interesting scenario to me ever since I kept seeing all this stuff on this topic.

I think Horangi would be the first to notice, but König would be the first to actually check on the reader. Not that Horangi doesn't care, it's just when he notices what's going on he feels so bad that he doesn't know what to do. When König notices, he makes a plan.

König would be eerily silent. Normally he's so anxious that he always has his claws out, making little tippy taps as he scurries about. For this one moment, he's calm and prepared.

He ever so gently lays down beside you as close as he can to you. Maybe he might lay on you if he thinks that would be good for you, but I see him more as the type to lay down by your side and lay his chin on his paws. He'll swish his tail over top of you and press in close.

It takes a second for you to notice. At first, you're too miserable to move, but you remember your therapist told you to pet animals when you're distressed, so you figure you might as well.

As soon as you start petting König he lets out the most glorious purr. For a cat with such pathetic crackly mews, the purr he lets out is so deep and rich you'd think he was replaced by a fake. He rolls into you and burrows into your arms. He tries to rub his face against yours and tries to pull you in close to his side.

As soon as Horangi notices that König hasn't been punted to the other side of the room, and rather that König's actually helping, he's in on it too.

He comes up to your other side and curls around you too. He's purring too, bright and comfortable. He's a bit more playful and energetic in his affections. He's rolling over to let you scratch his belly, but then he grabs you with soft paws and licks your hand. He's a giant sweetheart about it all. Unlike König, who's all snugggles, Horangi likes to lick your fingers, hands, your face if he can get close enough.

If König isn't there to give Horangi the ques, it takes him a bit longer to figure out that he needs to get out of his own head and help out. He's scared to reach out. You can't blame him. I know you might want to, but he's scared to make it worse.

He can't leave you to suffer forever though. It isn't that long before he's trepiditiously padding over to your side. He sits by your head and just watches nervously for a moment. He hesitates, but he does do the little nervous batting. He tries to get your attention as carefully as he can.

When you turn over, his heart breaks. If König were here, he'd know what to do. Horangi tries his best to figure out what he can do.

Soon, he's pulling a König move, something Horangi never does. Horangi's an independent cat. He doesn't like being picked up, he doesn't like being held. You can hold König upside down, but Horangi doesn't really like to be touched too often.

When you're sad and broken, he pushes all his pride aside and crawls up to sit on you. He's not a crushing weight like König, he's just a warm little blanket. He sits on top of you and he purrs.

It doesn't make everything go away, but feeling Horangi reach out to you first, it melts your heart. You can't help but smile when you reach up a hand and Horangi shoves his face into your palm. He's desperate to see you smile just a little bit more.

Both cat hybrids genuinely care about you. They can be menaces, but they're good men. They love their owner (König a bit more possessively than Horangi) and both of them want to see their owner happy. They'll do what they can to make you smile when you're feeling down, no matter what.

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thestrangepoet · 6 months ago

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The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 4/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Martin – no, Champion, for that was who he was now – crept through the institute, his ears flat against his head.

How long had he been technically missing for now? At least a week, if not more. And no one had notified the police. Not Jon, not Tim, not Sasha. Not his own mother, despite the fact Martin would call her almost daily to check in on her. Not his neighbours nor his…well. He didn’t have any friends outside the institute.

He didn’t have any friends inside the institute either, it seemed.

Champion padded past the grand oak reception desk in the front lobby. Almost immediately, his paws left the ground, which drew a purr of surprise from him, his little blue eyes growing wide.

“Oh, Champion! You came to visit me, did you?”

Rosie, Elias’ assistant, gathered Champion into her arms, her thin, angular face all smiles and framed with bouncing red curls. Everyone’s face was all smiles when Champion arrived. Champion, who did nothing at all to actually help the institute. He couldn’t read properly like this. He couldn’t research, staying up all hours of the night to finish reports. He couldn’t go investigate leads across the country, nor pitch theories for statements. He couldn’t even make a cup of tea like this.

Martin could do all those things. And not once had he been given a genuine smile in return, not a single sparkle in someone’s eye to say they were actually happy to see him. But as Champion?

All he had to do was walk on by.

The first few days, that attention had overjoyed Martin. All he’d ever wanted. But now, it stung, jabbing him in the chest and reminding him that all this fuss wasn’t for him. Not really.

That people liked him better as a useless cat than a man who tried too hard and apologised for existing.

“Oh dear, little guy, why the sad ears?” Rosie continued, sitting down and depositing Champion onto the immaculate desk in front of her. “Was Jonathan a meanie to you? Do you want Rosie to accidentally misplace his expenses form this month?” She scratched behind Champion’s ear with a perfectly manicured nail, but he couldn’t even muster a false purr in response.

Everyone liked him better as a cat. Hell, maybe he was better at being a cat?

Maybe he should just…stay a cat. Let Martin Blackwood become just another missing person, lost behind a veil of barely asked questions.

Something stirred under his skin at that thought, like a cold fog rippling through his blood, sending all his fur on end. Champion jolted in shock; all too easily, he had forgotten what he wrestled with here. Sure, being turned into a cat sounded silly enough, but the architect of all this had been a Leitner book.

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts, caring not for the jovial packaging they came in.

Champion, now dealing with an alarming amount of adrenaline, leapt from Rosie’s desk and scampered away. He dashed through the corridors, paw pads skidding on the hardwood flooring, his tiny heart hammering away.

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts…

He practically slid across the Research Department, not stopping even when one of the researchers reached for a bag of cat treats.

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts! What if it could see him or hear him or—

He bounded through the austere, silent library, not sure what he was running from or if anything was even truly chasing him. But instinct tore through his limbs, too aware now of the sense of some unspeakable shadow prowling after him and delighting in his isolation.

When the panic finally subsided, Champion had to take a moment to look around the room he’d bolted into. The room loomed around him, gloomy save for one desk light working hard to chase it all away.

His desk light.

Champion padded through the archival assistants’ office, wandering past Tim’s empty desk and Sasha’s neglected chair. Was Tim at the station, weaving a story as to why they hadn’t reported their colleague missing sooner? Was Sasha in Elias’ office, distracting him from the whole affair?

He hopped up onto his old chair at his own desk. He hadn’t been here since the day he’d read that damned book in the first place. Jon’s office took the place of his regular workspace, either curled up on Jon’s lap or snoozing under the radiator.

Being a cat, admittedly, had been a lot more comfortable than being Martin Blackwood. The temptation to remain like this had, he realised, not been entirely out of spite and anger of the others not being too fussed about Martin’s disappearance.

It had come from Martin’s own disregard for Martin’s disappearance. Like this, he couldn’t annoy people. He didn’t have to worry about messing up conversations or making a fool of himself. He could stay away from people in that way, yet reap all the benefits of getting affection and having his company be greeted with a smile.

But…he also couldn’t offer Jon a cup of tea and get to see that momentary lessening of his scowl, the only time his frown eased up in the office. The silly little bloom of pride Martin got at being able to coax that out of him with a nice cup of tea – a silent victory, proof he’d done something right.

He couldn’t sneak out five minutes early for lunch with Tim on a Thursday, because they both loved Thursday special at the German kebab shop three blocks away and wanted to avoid the lunch rush queues.

He couldn’t buy a lemon and poppyseed muffin on a Monday to drop off at Rosie’s desk before she got in, earning him first dibs when she baked her amazing Malteser brownies during charity bake sales at work. She pretended she didn’t know Martin brought her breakfast every Monday, when he knew she ran late for work because she had to drop her father off at the physio, but somehow, a hearty slice of brownie would be wrapped in a napkin in the fridge with his name on it all the same.

He couldn’t go to the little tea room five minutes from his house every Saturday and Wednesday, order the same cup of Earl Grey and the same ham-and-cheese toastie, and beam as the owner called him his favourite and most reliable customer.

Maybe…Maybe Martin Blackwood did get noticed after all. Little nods, little appreciations. Maybe…that was enough?

The cold retreated from his fluffy legs, though it didn’t fully subside. It loosened its grip on his tiny heart, but it didn’t uncoil.

He had to completely undo this, Champion – no, Martin decided. He had to find the answer. And the best place to start had to be the book itself.

Martin jumped down from his chair, flattening himself on the floor to scoot under the bookcase where he had bashed the book out of sight weeks before.

A few cobwebs…a pen he’d lost months ago…some paper clips…a scrunched up ball of paper that stole all of Martin’s attention for five minutes or more as he bapped it between his paws in delight…but no book.

Wriggling his way back out from under the furniture, he looked left and right. Where was it?

Martin headed out of the archival assistants’ office and made his way towards Jon’s. Had Jon returned to the office to retrieve the book? Martin hadn’t noticed him doing so, nor had the book shown up on Jon’s desk lately. Given that desk doubled as one of Martin’s many napping spots, he was sure he would have spotted it if it had.

Unless…he’d picked it up recently. Tim had just told Jon that there was no sign of Martin at all at his flat. Tim had done something incredibly important in that conversation, Martin realised in horror.

He’d given Jon a mystery to unravel. He’d sparked his curiosity and given him a challenge – could he find Martin before a professional?

Oh no.

Martin scampered into Jon’s office at full speed, miaowing in a vain attempt to yell Jon’s name. But the room was empty.

Panting, his head whipped this way and that. Where was he? It was 4:12pm – not a time that Jon would take a smoke break he thought no one knew about, nor a time he’d go for a tea or try to heavily hint for Martin to make one. He was always at his desk. Where was—

“Mrrrrowww…”

Martin blinked, his ears twitching. That…hadn’t come from him. “Miaow?”

A horrified pause stretched out across the office. And then, that same, low rumble of a miaow, sorrowful and irritated.

“Mrrrrrooooowwww…”

Plucking up his courage, Martin followed the sound, his fur already sticking up on end. He tip-toed around the leg of Jon’s desk, already suspecting what had happened, yet praying it hadn’t.

There, beside Jon’s chair, was The Ninth Life, open on the last few pages. And on top of the book was the saddest, skinniest, scabbiest-looking black cat that Martin had ever seen in his life. Flecks of grey mottled his fur, which was missing in great clumps all over. Most of his right ear was missing, leaving a ragged edge in its wake. His eyes were far too big for his head, a brilliant green that somehow didn’t complement his black fur. Worst of all, the cat was sitting with its hind legs in front of it, as though determined to sit like a person.

The black cat looked at Martin.

Martin looked at the black cat.

It scowled at him. Somehow, despite everything, the cat managed to scowl at him.

The cat knew who he was, Martin realised. He knew he was Martin.

…Jon? Is that you? Martin wondered, pacing slowly over to the scabby cat. He just wanted to get close enough to sniff him, to confirm that this was Jon and—

Bap!

A paw plonked down squarely on Martin’s head, followed by a warning hiss.

Bap! Bap bap bap!

Yes, Martin realised, as he lay down on his front and tried to cover the top of his head with his own paws to shield himself.

The scruffy cat before him was definitely Jonathan Sims.

──── •✧• ────

#cat!martin #tma cats #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #jmart #tma

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lazyneonrabbitt · 2 years ago

Text

Sergei

Kraven x Reader [Pt.2]

Big cat man has a weak spot for little cats and their owner. / A simple domestic, fluffy one where a quick job takes an unexpected turn.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Kraven wanted to hit the Spider man where it hurt the most; his found family.

That family included you, so let's go over that day you met, yeah?

All he had was your name, social media profile pics and an adress his people managed to conjure up for him.

So there he was, parked a few blocks away, ready to get to his first prey. He made his way into the apartment building and followed the door numbers untill he had reached the right one.

He had decided to give this a more stealthy approach, so instead of simply breaking down your door he picked the lock and let himself in quietly. With one hand on the door handle and the other on his knife he stepped into your home, immediately being alarmed by the animals either hissing at him or scurrying away. He quietly closed the door behind him, taking in his surroundings and being almost stunned by the little piece of paradise you seemed to live in. He stepped around in your apartment, careful not to step on any of the many cat toys sprawled all over and avoiding any of the cats that were curiously staring at him. He stared at your walls covered in fabric covered shelves amd scratching poles, little food and water bowls everywhere. Without thinking about it he reached out for one of the furry residents who happily pressed its head into his palm. As one started, the others slowly became more comfortable around him as well and within a short moment he was surrounded by cats of all shapes and sizes.

He padded around a bit more untill he had reached your small kitchen, staring at the lion themed towels and the cat shaped mugs behind the glass cabinet doors. A touch to his leg pulls him from his thoughts as he spots the big, red cat rubbing against his calf, purring for attention. He reaches down to pet him and makes the mistake of sitting down because quickly he is stuck with his back against the kitchen cabinets and a large cat in his lap with more surrounding him.

You're done at the store a few blocks from your home and make your way back with a small bag of food and another one full of cat treats.

You get to your floor and walk along the hall until you reach your door, putting the key into the lock and opening the door with only a small twist of the key. 'Ugh, again?' You think to yourself, making a mental note to remember to check if you locked your door before you walk away next time.

Entering your house you're immediately noticing you're not being welcomed like you usually are. There's no crazy meowing or paws trying to grab whatever is in the plastic bags. Really, only two of your oldest cats were to be seen from your spot at the door as you put your keys and phone on the little side table.

You stepped forward to say hi to the old, grey one closest to you gave him some pats and made your way through the livingroom, turning the corner and stopping dead in your tracks across from your kitchen entrance.

The bags previously in your hand hit the floor with a loud crunch, startling some of your cats, them scurrying away to their hiding places. 'What the hell..'

Before you were almost all of your cats, surrounding a man who was sitting against your kitchen cabinets with your biggest orange cat in his lap, clearly demanding scratches as he complained loudly every tine the man removed his hands from him.

"You uh.. You got a great place here." Who was this guy? And see? You did lock your door when you left! You just stood there, staring in confusion.

"What?" Was all your brain was doing. What was he doing here? What's the meaning of this? How did he even get in here and why is this stupidly handsome cat loving man on my kitchen floor? Who even is he?

A sigh left the man's lips as your loving companion clawed at his hands and pulled it back onto him for the umpteenth time in the short period he had been there.

"I'm Sergei." He spoke, looking up at you. "And you're a friend of the spider man." The way he stated it so matter of factly immediately sent you into panic mode, fidgeting to grab your phone, remembering you had put it at the door. Your cursed at yourself, not wanting to turn around to grab it because if he knew about you and spiderman there was no way this guy was gonna let you reach that phone.

He raised one of his hands, not wanting go raise the other as well and get scratched again. It was so stupid how you just stopped thinking of grabbing your phone when you noticed his sweet gestures towards your pets and the way they all seemed to love him. Your friends always joked about how you could never be someone's friend if your cats didn't like them, and since they all liked this man.. They liked Sergei so you just slowly picked up your bags and started putting the items away. You two talked, mostly about your crazy amount of animals and the things he observed about them as you walked around, keeping a close eye on him in the meantime.

"This guy is nice, what's his name?" Sergei spoke, pointing at the cat still draped over his legs. "That fatty is Nacho, he usually hates new people." You muse from beside him, squatted down to put the cat food on the bottom shelf. You look over at them, reaching to give Nacho some belly rubs like he wasn't still laying in this stranger's lap.

"You still haven't told me why you're here." You stood up and grabbed four large party snack plates and a box of wet food, deviding ghe food in small portions. You quietly shook your head as Sergei hadn't said anything yet. With the amount of space you needed to prepare this food, you had stepped so far to the side that his shoulder was resting against your leg. You nudged him with your knee, getting his attention. "You know you can just, like, put him on the floor, right?" They both looked up at you like you had just offended their families. "Get up and give a hand here."

He blinked in surprise with how direct you were being with him and gave an apologetic look to the animal in his lap before picking him up and placing him on the tile floor. Getting up he let out a tired groan aa he lazily reached for the two outter plates you jad prepared and basically trapping you between him and the counter. "Now, where do you want these?" He asks quietly, laughing softly to himself as he sees you stammering, trying so hard to find the words of the locations you put the cats' dinner. He chuckles and picks up the plates, carecully walking around to find the right spots and making sure not to accidentally kick any of the eager felines trying to get as close as possible to the food.

He looks around, spotting an empty side table and placing the first one there before taking the other one to a spot where three cats sat waiting on the floor.

By the time he had finished placing the food you were back to yourself enough to put the remaining plates away on autopilot, only stopping to aimlessly walk around as you see Sergei again, very carefully petting one of the older cats and letting it lick some sauce off his fingers. You walked closer, not taking your eyes off the scene in front of you, shocked that old Mr. Snowball was actually accepting food like that.

"He never does that.." you state blankly, more to yourself than to your guest. He had heard your comment and smiled to himself, petting the old cat some more and kept feeding it for a bit longer. You stood closer to him now, closely observing his movements and body language, hoping to learn something from the way he managed to feed the one cat who barely even wanted to eat his favorite snacks anymore.

The doorbell made you both jump, taking away your focus on the scene before you as you walked to open the door, realization hitting you that you completely forgot to cancel your dinner order after your friend canceled your plans earlier today. You open the door and accept the food, thanking the delivery guy with a sweet smile and close the door with your foot.

"So, hungry?" You quip withtour hands full of takeout boxes. The confused stare you receive isn't really helping you feel less awkward about the whole situation. "I forgot to cancel the food order after my friend called me she couldn't make it tonight." You continue to ramble about today's events being all messed up, and on top of that having a complete stranger in her house.

During your speech he had moved over and carefully taken the boxes from your hands, setting them on the small coffeetable in front of the tv. "I can eat." His answer came out so simple, not even phased by your rather offensive wording from only a minute ago. With some convincing he managed to get you to sit down on the couch.

He sits down at the tsble on the floor, his back against the couch seats right next to you. "I'm not here to hurt you." He speaks softly without looking at you. "Well.." A sigh leaves his lips. "Not anymore, at least."

You sigh, head laid back against the back cushions. "You're one of Spidey's enemies." It wasn't even a question. You recalled him mentioning you being friends with him earlier.

He turned to face you, one arm over the couch seat. "I can't hurt someone like you." You gave him a look at his choice of words. "You care more for these creatures than for yourself. I love that." Turning baxk to the table, he took one of the takeout boxes and handed it to you. "Altough I believe you need to start caring for yourseld a bit more. I looked inside your fridge." You fake whince at the fridge mention and accept the food, quickly taking a bite.

"So," still chewing on your food, you start. "You broke into my apartment to either kill me or hurt me very bad.." You looked at him and shook your head. "But you decided not to when you learned I like animals more than people?"

He lets out a laugh at that. "Yes. That is the basics." You smile back at him. "Well, be glad my cats like you, then. Otherwise I would have tried to kick you out and I'd have gotten hurt and slash or killed for sure. And honestly I'm surprised you managed to feed him." Nodding your head in the direction of the old cat in the corner. He follows your gaze and smiles to himself. "What can I say? I'm a cat person." He shrugs casually, eating some more fries.

Looking at the table you realised you wanted something to drink. You got up and placed your food bsck on the table, walking over to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle and two glasses, setting them all down on the table and pouring you both a glass. You sit back down and the two of you finish your food together.

After dinner you gather everything off the table, taking the stack and putting it away, bringing back a new bottle of drinks from the kitchen.

As you sat back down you missed your little side table and scooted over to the other side, placing your glass next to you and settling down right behind Sergei who was still on the floor. "You don't have to stay down there, you know." You mention. He looks up at you, his head now touching your lower legs as you sit cross-legged behind him. "I'm good here. Easy access to these guys." His hands again reaching out to pet some more wandering cats. He had closed his eyes halfway into his sentence and kept his head laying against your leg. Without thinking twice you let one of your own hands wander and softly brushed your fingers through his oh so soft looking curls. He let out a soft hum at that and you couldn't help but laugh at yourself a little.

"What's so funny?" With a quirked up eyebrow he watches you through one opened eye.

"It's just, my friends always told me I have a horrible taste in men,"

With that he openend his eyes to look at you properly. "What I mean is, they would totally kick me out of the friendgroup if they saw me here, having dinner and being cute with a guy who had plans to kill me." You kept playing with his hair as you spoke nervously to which he let out a soft hum and put a hand up to pat your leg. "You think they'd dare to say anything if they saw me next to you?" Putting the emphasis on the 'me' by motioning at himself and mostly his physique.

You nodded in agreement, knowing how absolutely intimidating he looked when he stood upright, so close and looking down on you at the kitchen counter. Not even the image of the gorgeous man towering over you, an image that would have normally helped distract you from literally anything, wasn't even helping against the anxiety that was coursing through your head right now.

Meanwhile your hands were still in his hair and his hand was still resting on your leg, the other coming up as well to rub comforting circles on your skin. "You really have to relax, little rabbit. I can feel you stressing out.." He leaned over on the couch and hopped up on it next to you, back agsinst the oposite armrest with one leg against the backrest and the other dangling off the seat. One of his hands reached out to give your shoulder a queeze and grabbed your arm, causing you to let out a yelp as he pulled you against him. He easily manhandled you on top of him, your side against his front and legs stuck between his. You let out a long, tired breath and told yourself to focus on his warmth instead of the gnawing, angry yelling in the back of your head. One of his hands dangled next to the couch, waiting for one of the cats to bump their head against if before picking one up and placing it next to you, petting it softly so it laid down for you to pet as well.

"Thankyou," you softly said getting more comfortable against him, nuzzling against his clothed chest. You had no idea how he managed, but in this short time from feeding your cats till now he had made you feel more normal than anyone else had ever done. His strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you further into him, his legs wrapping around and covering yours. Your face was now hidden in his neck and his lips were on your temple, a low, rumbling satisfied hum coming from his as he inhaled your scent. You returned his gesture by softly pressing your lips against his jawline, not exactly kissing it but just holding them there for a short moment.

He could feel the smile forming against his jaw and slowly led his fingers to your chin while moving slightly to capture your lips with his own. Without hesitation you maneuvered yourself to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back properly, scaring your cat away by doing so making you both laugh and separate. When he looked up at you he saw the tears theatening to spill, placing a hand on your cheek. "Let me care for you like you care for your creatures." It wasn't really a question, more of a statement of which the details would be discussed later. You sniffled, "Yeah," and nodded in agreement. "I'd like that."

#kraven the hunter #sergei kravinoff #kraven x reader #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei x reader #kraven the hunter fanfic #kraven the hunter imagine #sergei kravinoff imagine #aaron taylor johnson #sometimes I write #fluff

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hazbinshusk · 3 months ago

Note

awkward kiss for a husky. Perhaps the reader has never been in a relationship or simply does not know how to kiss. Therefore, this is her first experience.

I tweaked this one a little bit, to make it a continuation of another kiss prompt, but I hope you still like it. combined with a kiss prompt request because they worked so well together. husk's rizz is off the charts here, if I do say so myself.

check out part one (a kiss to the palm of the hand) here.

kiss prompt #39: a tentative kiss

Husk’s paw comes up to curl around your wrist, soft fur and heart-shaped pad pressed against your skin. His voice comes softly, almost… playful. “Your hand is shaking. You okay, doll?”

You nod slowly, your breath caught in your throat.

“Good.” Husk smiles, and your eyes widen as he pulls your hand away, turns his head, and presses his lips to the palm of your hand. “You had me worried there.”

Christ, you didn’t think you could get any more flustered by this damn bartender.

Husk’s claws tease gently against your wrist, his thumb circling the place where your pulse hammers under your skin. You wonder if he can tell, if he can feel its drumbeat, but even as that thought brings a bead of panic into your chest, you don’t pull away.

“You good?” he asks, a baritone barely more than a murmur. The hotel is unusually quiet now that Angel’s gone to bed and even Niffty is no longer crawling around on the hunt for whatever pest she’d declared war on this week, and the silence seems to only make you more aware of the gentle rumble that sounds in the undertones of his voice. In the intimacy of the moment, it makes your mind wander to darker rooms and soft sheets, and you know that flush in your cheeks is growing darker. Husk still has this amused tilt to his lips, softening his features in a way that his usually sarcastic smirk doesn’t. “You still look like you’re about to bolt.”

You swallow, trying to steady your breathing before you reply.

“I’m okay,” you say, smiling through an exhale. “You just… caught me off guard.”

Husk chuckles quietly, lowering your hand to the bar. Your heart jumps into your throat as once again, he doesn’t let go, instead leaving his paw resting over the back of your hand. It’s a soft touch that seems to flirt with both innocent and intimate, and he does it casually, as though it’s a natural touch, thoughtless and uncalculated.

You wonder, if you turn your hand under his, would he let you intertwine your fingers with his?

Your hand doesn’t move.

“Been a long time since I’ve done that to anyone,” he tells you, voice still wonderfully low. He’s leaning over the bar now, not by much, but it still closes so much of the distance between the two of you.

“Since you ki… kissed their hand?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual. From the way he looks at you, the soft, affectionate laugh he breathes out, you know you’ve failed. That warmth is reflected in his eyes, and it melts the very core of you.

“That too,” he smiles, claws curling around your fingers. He leans forward; something in his expression shifts, and your nerves suddenly rise up to wrap their clawing fingers around your heart. They tug, and you jerk back instinctively. Regret flares as a heat inside you as Husk’s eyes widen and he pulls away. “Shit, I’m—”

He looks fucking horrified with himself, and you stumble over an explanation, an apology, anything to get him to stop feeling that way.

“No! No, don’t… you didn’t do anything wrong, I just—” Husk moves as though he’s going to back away from the bar, to put a more respectable distance between the two of you, and the way his wings curl in against his shoulders, the way his ears fold back, God, it makes your chest tighten. You reach out instinctively, catching hold of his paw. Husk doesn’t pull away, but there’s something painful in his expression.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he fumbles for the words for a moment. He lets out this huff of a laugh, short and low and self-deprecating. “Shoulda known, I jus’—”

“I wanted you to!” you blurt out, and your face burns with the admission, your voice a little too loud for the space between you. You lower it hurriedly, your gaze dropping to where your hand is clutching his wrist. “I wanted you to, I just… I panicked. I’m not…”

Husk studies you for a moment, a long moment, before he turns his wrist, pulling it gently out of your grip. But instead of withdrawing it, he curls his claws gently around your fingers, pressing the heart-shaped pad softly into your palm. He doesn’t say anything; he just watches you take a breath, find the words.

“I don’t… have a lot of experience,” you say hesitantly, focusing on the way his hand looks so big, totally eclipsing yours. His touch is warm, and once again you’re stricken by just how soft his fur is. “With… anything, really. I wasn’t… I think about kissing you all the time and I just know I’m going to fuck it up, and I—”

“You wanna repeat that for me, ducks?”

Husk’s voice is quiet, but it breaks through your rambling easy enough.

You glance up, taken aback by the interruption. “I—I said I was going to fuck it up. And I’m sorry for—”

Husk actually chuckles. It’s quiet, under his breath, but the sound is warm in a way that some part of you desperately hopes will become familiar despite the way it way its mocking claws into your heart, serrated and sharp. He picks a random bottle off the shelf, takes a drink.

But then he says: “No…”

He draws out the word in a lilting tone, pulling his paw out of your hand and rounds the bar to join you on the other side. Husk takes the barstool beside you; you’ve turned to face him as he’s moved, and when he sits down, his knees bump against yours. It’s a strange, new kind of intimacy, sitting like this, and those butterflies flutter again.

“The other bit,” he continues, setting the bottle he still holds on the counter beside him. “Say that other bit again.”

“What oth—” realisation hits you, and a you can’t help a tentative smile of your own. “Oh. That.”

Husk’s lips quirk, his tail twitch back and forth by his ankle so the feathers tickle against your leg. “Can I hear it again?”

Is your blood ever going to return to the rest of your body?

“I…” you press your lips together for a moment, but they unfurl with a bashful smile. “I kinda think about kissing you sometimes.”

Husk’s own smile widens. “Sometimes?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and when Husk rumbles a laugh you reach out to shove his shoulder. He catches your hand before you do, but instead of moving it away, he brings it up to rest on his shoulder. Your fingers curl automatically around his suspender, soft fur tickling at your fingertips. He trails his claws down your arm, and your breath hitches as they move lower, smoothing over your ribs and down to your waist. “Husk…?”

“’m givin’ you the greenlight, ducks,” he says. Your resurfacing nerves must reflect in your expression, because he smirks softly, squeezing your waist reassuringly. “So, no need to fret, alright?”

You nod, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. You stroke your fingers shakily through the fur of his shoulder, meet his eye, then drop your gaze again as you lose your nerve. Husk snickers and rolls his eyes, reaching out to carefully cup your face in his hand.

He leans in, and this time you don’t pull away, closing your eyes as Husk’s lips meet yours in a careful, hesitant kiss.

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

#self-aes #husk x reader #husk fic #my fic #husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader

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skimmingmilk · 3 months ago

Note

That sick fic ask just made me wonder how Tails reacted to seeing Sonic properly sick for the first time.

A/N: This may have gotten away from me a bit, but once the idea took hold I just kinda went with it ^^;; This was the fic I was hoping to have done earlier this week, but I'm happy to have it done now! Not quite a birthday or Valentine's Day fic, but has very wintery vibes, which still seems fitting for this time of year <3 Going to post this on AO3 in "Little Gestures" in just a bit, but wanted to have it connected to the ask that inspired it! Thank you, childofthemoon86! And by extension, the sick anon who initially requested the sick!Tails fic. This goes out to both of you!

no medicine like the hope of tomorrow

Sonic always woke up first.

On good days, the smell of hot porridge cooking over a fire would rouse Tails with its promise of a full belly. On better days, it was buttery pancakes frying alongside a sneaky slice of ham or bacon that beckoned him to open his eyes, twin tails already wagging with delight. On okay days, there were no smells that coaxed him into wakefulness, but a light nudge to his shoulder and two whistled notes tickling his ear. C'mon, Tails.

There were no bad days ever since meeting Sonic. Not even days when there wasn't any breakfast could be considered bad when Sonic was there.

But the point was, no matter what kind of day it was, Sonic was always ready and waiting to greet him first thing. Like the sunrise.

So when it was the ache of an empty belly that roused Tails one morning, there was the tiniest flicker of fear that it had all been a dream. That there'd never been good days or better days or even just okay days. Just another tally mark scratched into stone in a cave all alone.

But the fear didn't linger. It couldn't. Not when Sonic's scent enveloped him with warmth, wrapped around him even as he wiggled under his blanket. Traces of it also drifted through their campsite and, while it might not have been as strong as porridge or pancakes, it was more than enough to reassure him that their time together hadn't been imaginary. Tails was good at thinking up lots of things that didn't exist, but even he didn't think he could ever imagine someone as good as Sonic.

With a squeaky yawn, Tails stretched out along the length of his blanket. He scrubbed at his face with his paws, trying to wipe away the crustiness of sleep, then blinked at the brightness of daylight spilling into the mouth of the shallow cavern they'd camped out in. He squinted immediately. The sun was higher in the sky than usual.

Brow furrowing, Tails sat up, his blanket and Sonic's coat pooling in his lap. He glanced down at the latter. Lately Sonic had been giving it to him to sleep with during the night while it was so cold. Tails shivered, bundling his tails around himself as he slipped his arms through the coat backwards and looked around the campsite.

Usually Sonic had a fire going to get them warmed up, even if there wasn't any breakfast to cook. The stones he'd laid in a circle around the firewood Sonic collected were still there, along with the charred wood, frosted over with sparkling dew that had frozen during the night. The grass just outside the cavern had a layer of frost coating it as well, only just starting to melt away during the sun's journey through the sky.

Tails's gaze finally landed on the lump that was Sonic's blanket, his tails giving a jerky thump against his legs at the sight of him. A few blue quills poked out of the bunched up fabric and Tails finally picked up on the snuffly breathing that clouded the air near his nose. Tails's head tilted to one side, mouth parted in a surprised "o."

Sonic was still asleep!

Tails beat him to waking up!

He never beat Sonic at anything before!

Giggling to himself, Tails kept the coat tucked around him as he hopped up on his feet. The cold of the cavern floor seeped through his socks so he quickly padded over to Sonic, peering over his shoulder while the hedgehog slept huddled up on his side. Half his face was covered by the blanket, his fingers curled in it tightly like someone would rip it away if he let up his grip even a little.

Tails wiggled with anticipation. He crouched down and nudged Sonic's shoulder with his paw playfully. "Fwoo-woo!"

Whistling was still hard for him, especially when it was so cold. But Tails smiled brightly as he made as close a sound to a whistle as he could. It usually got a laugh out of Sonic when he tried, or at the very least a head pat.

But Sonic didn't budge.

Undeterred, Tails pushed at him harder. "Fwoooo! Fwoo!"

A harsh cough burst from Sonic's chest and sent Tails tumbling backwards onto his rear. He sat back up, coat fallen away and paws pressed against the cold ground between his legs to brace himself while he stared at Sonic. Each expulsion of air rattled his ribs, like they were being knocked together from the force of it.

"Fwoo?" Tails's ears fell as Sonic kept coughing, his body heaving with each fruitless attempt to catch his breath.

When the coughing stopped, his breathing was ragged like he'd just outrun one hundred of Robotnik's fastest badniks. Tails pushed himself up on his knees and leaned over Sonic again. His expression was pinched now and he could see his mouth, the lines around his muzzle tight as if he was gritting his teeth. He sniffled, nose sounding extra stuffed up, and it made him swallow thickly when his breathing eventually evened out. One eye finally cracked open, a sliver of green peeking through to observe who was staring at him.

Tails smiled upon seeing that his friend was awake, his tails flicking up and down happily. But then Sonic coughed again, this time keeping his mouth clamped shut through the painful chest spasms. He curled up tightly, nearly turning into a ball as his knees tucked in close to his tummy.

"Drink?" Tails signed, bringing his hand to his own muzzle like a cup, but Sonic didn't see it when his eyes squeezed shut through another bout of coughing.

Deciding water would definitely help a dry throat anyway, Tails scampered over to their backpack and rifled through it for Sonic's water bottle. He lifted it up triumphantly, only to gasp when it was much lighter than he expected. With a puzzled look, Tails shook the bottle. Nothing sloshed around inside. It was empty.

Sonic usually filled up the bottle before he went to sleep, just in case either of them got thirsty in the middle of the night. He must've forgotten. Tucking the water bottle in the crook of his arm, Tails flew back over to his blanket and plopped down atop it so he could pull on his shoes. He'd go get the water himself. He remembered passing a little brook when they were scouting out a good camp spot. It wasn't far at all.

And Sonic really sounded like he could use a drink.

Tails cut through the brush, his ears swiveling back and forth as he listened for the gentle trickle of water against stray pebbles and rocks. His tails gave a happy twirl as he rounded a thick tree trunk and spotted the small water source. Just the sight of the cool, fresh water flowing was enough to remind him he was pretty thirsty himself. Kneeling down, Tails lapped up the water straight from the current. Usually Sonic collected water and boiled it in a pot before drinking it, but Tails used to drink from rivers and ponds all the time. Just not the ocean, that was too salty and gross.

He drank until his tummy was full enough with water that it didn't feel so empty. That was the trick to being hungry sometimes. Just fill up all the space inside with water.

Tails could feel it slosh around a bit as he sat back and wiped the damp fur of his muzzle with his arm. Then he resumed his mission. He unscrewed the cap for the water bottle and filled it up right to the top, so Sonic would have plenty to drink in case his tummy was empty, too.

When he got back to the cavern, Sonic still hadn't moved. Tails scampered over to him and dropped down to sit cross-legged right in front of his face. Sonic forced his eyes open, but he couldn't do much more than squint at him with a silent question. Tails held out the water bottle to him.

For a moment, he just stared at it uncomprehendingly, but the gears eventually began to turn and Sonic put himself into motion. He propped himself up with his arms, but his elbows wobbled like they were about to give out any second. And they did exactly that when Sonic tried to reach for the bottle. He landed hard on his shoulder with a wince and another harsh coughing fit as Tails scooched forward to try and help him sit up.

Sonic batted him away, successfully sitting up on his second try. He fumbled with the cap to the water bottle, swaying a bit like a palm tree in the breeze. It almost made Tails a little woozy watching him. When he got the cap off, Sonic guzzled the water greedily, his throat bobbing rapidly as he drank and drank even more than Tails did. He stopped only to gasp for air, panting in between sharp, pointed sniffs to clear his nose.

It didn't sound like it worked.

Tails took the water bottle back before it spilled, frowning when it felt like it was already less than half-full. They'd have to get some more. Now that Sonic was up though, maybe they could get some breakfast, too.

Looking up at him expectantly, Tails's ears and tails wilted when Sonic just laid back again, this time resting on his back with his face turned up. Now that he could get a better look at it, Tails could see that the peach fur of his muzzle was a little flushed. His eyes closed again and his hand pressed over his chest, rubbing a little like he was trying to soothe something that hurt. Tails's frown deepened. Was Sonic hurt?

He tapped Sonic's shoulder and his head lolled to the side to face him. Tails extended his index fingers of both hands and brought them together. "Hurt?" he asked in sign.

The dull glaze in his eyes cleared a bit. No, Sonic shook his head, coughed once into his fist, then held up one finger. In a minute, he seemed to be saying as he laid back with a raspy sigh.

Tails counted all the way to sixty twice, just to be sure, but Sonic didn't get up after a minute. He decided to refill the water bottle while he waited, but even though that also took longer than a minute, Sonic still hadn't moved by the time he returned to camp. In fact, Tails was pretty sure Sonic had fallen back asleep.

Tails's tummy complained with a loud, impatient growl. He was hungry.

Rifling through the backpack, he found the small cook pot and four paper packets of porridge mix. It fascinated Tails to watch as the dry, powdery ingredients would expand and turn into a completely different consistency just from adding water and heat. Sometimes they added fruits if they could find any, but in the middle of a frosty winter, they hadn't come across much. They had to buy most of their food in the towns and villages they passed through.

There were also two hot dogs still wrapped up in plastic, but no buns and no chili cans. And one box of macaroni and cheese was left, but other than that they were out of food. No ready-made snacks Tails could chew on while he waited for Sonic to get up.

Well, who said he had to wait? Tails could read. He could figure out how to make the food himself. He'd watched Sonic do it before.

Tails started with the oatmeal packets since they were the breakfast food. Sonic always made two at the same time, so Tails also grabbed two packets along with the pot and the bottled water. Little instructions were printed on the paper wrapping.

Empty packet in pot.

Bring ½ cup of water to a boil.

Reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes.

The instructions were probably for one packet each, so if he was cooking two, then he'd need to double everything. 1 cup of water and 10 minutes. That sounded right.

Tails sighed as he shot the water bottle an unimpressed look. He was gonna have to fill it up again.

But his sloshy, grumbly tummy told him to just get it over with. Besides, wouldn't Sonic be so impressed with so proud of him when he managed to cook them breakfast all by himself?

Tails tore open the packets with his teeth and poured the powdery oats into the pot. Then he dumped the entire contents of the whole water bottle over them. There! One cup of water.

He peered into the pot. It was mostly water, with tiny oat flecks that made it look cloudy as they floated to the surface. That didn't look right. Tails frowned and reread the packet. Maybe it just needed to be heated up still. Maybe that would fix it.

Sonic always started the campfire by rubbing two rocks against the wood really fast. Tongue poking out the side of his mouth, Tails tried imitating him. But he couldn't go fast enough. It was hard to keep the rocks from slipping out of his grasp whenever he sped up and no little sparks shot up into the wood.

Tails kept trying.

But it didn't work.

And he was hungry…

He glanced at the pot with too much water and oat clumps. It looked anything but appetizing. Embarrassment and shame churned within his empty belly as he lifted up the pot and watched the flecks of oats slosh about in the water. His eyes wandered back over to where Sonic was still sleeping, his breathing heavy and laced with the occasional grunt, brow pinched with discomfort even when he wasn't awake to feel it.

Tails couldn't feed him this, but he couldn't let it go to waste either.

He'd learned before he could even remember that food was food.

Tails shivered as he drank the cold, watery porridge mixture straight from the pot. His eyes squeezed shut with determination as he gulped it down until there was nothing left. Tails coughed, his fur bristled as each of his muscles tensed up, but at least his tummy felt fuller.

There were two more porridge packets in the backpack, but he didn't want to try again without a fire. He'd save them for when Sonic woke up for real, so he could make them the right way.

Tails slowly trudged back to the brook to refill the water bottle a third time, his tummy too sloshy to fly around with. He placed the bottle close to Sonic, in case he started coughing again, then returned to his own bed to lay down. He pulled Sonic's coat over himself again, nestling in it and his blanket as the cold air and the cold porridge in his tummy conspired to make him feel even colder.

It was easier to warm up when Sonic kept them moving all the time, but sitting still in the mouth of the cool cavern as clouds began to roll in, Tails was reminded of the wispy memories of the previous winter, huddled up in his old cave back when there weren't quite so many scratch marks on the walls.

—

Freshly fallen snow covered the ground by the time Tails realized that Sonic was worse off than he'd first thought. Harsh, sticky coughing echoed off the icy walls around them, no matter how much water he drank. Eyebrows furrowed and both tails flicking about anxiously, Tails sat right next to where he'd been lying all day and kept watch.

Panting heavily, Sonic's breath puffed out like a train's smokestacks, clouding the air in front of his flushed muzzle as he trembled, even though he was beneath two blankets. Tails had decided to share his with him when Sonic's chills got worse, despite the heat radiating from his body. It felt like he'd been sitting too close to the campfire for too long.

Sonic always felt relatively warm whenever Tails pressed against him, whether it be because Sonic had to carry him out of danger or when it was so cold at night they'd huddle up together to share what warmth they had. But this heat wasn't like that at all. It was wrong.

Tails was pretty sure he'd figured out what was happening to Sonic, too. It was something that Tails himself had experienced more than a couple times so far in his little life. Sonic was coughing because his throat was probably all gummy; full of thick, icky mucous that slowly slipped down into his chest and made it hard to breathe. His stuffy nose probably clogged up his whole head, too, including his ears and the space behind his eyes. His limbs couldn't hold him up because it probably felt like all his muscles had shriveled up inside, everything achy and sore even if he hadn't been smacked around by a badnik or a bully at all. And he was shivering so bad because his body was too hot and too cold at the same time and it didn't know what to do.

Whenever Tails felt like that, he'd always felt so weak, he'd been afraid that if he went to sleep, he'd never wake up again.

Because that happened sometimes. He remembered a baby flicky fell out of its nest in the jungle one day. No one came for it, no matter how much it chirped, so Tails had very carefully scooped them up and brought them to his cave, just so it had somewhere safe to stay until they could fly away like the bigger flickies. Tails didn't have much, but he was willing to share what he did with the baby flicky. He thought they could be friends.

But the little birdy shivered all night and they didn't eat anything Tails tried to give them, even though he wrapped his tails around them to keep them warm and mashed up berries so they were small enough to fit in their tiny beak.

The next morning, the baby flicky didn't wake up.

It never woke up again.

Tails didn't understand why until he started traveling with Sonic. They'd been breaking the little animals out of badniks, Sonic bouncing from one to another in the blink of an eye. As Tails tried to keep up, he noticed one of the flickies couldn't lift themselves out of the wreckage. They were too weak, stuck for too long in their metal prison until they could barely keep their eyes open. Tails cupped them gently in his paws and carried them to Sonic, his new safe place, because surely Sonic would know what to do.

But when the flicky's eyes closed and its last breath left its body, Sonic only had one thing to say to him. "Gone," Sonic signed, fingers pulling at the air as he moved his hand away from his body.

Tails frowned as he looked at the creature now cradled in Sonic's hands. He shook his head and pointed at it, trying to convey, What do you mean? It's right here.

Sonic's expression was unreadable as he gazed at the flicky. Then, more slowly and gently than Tails had ever seen Sonic do anything, he folded the bird's wings against their body and crouched down in the shade of a nearby tree. He dug out a small hole near the roots, then laid the flicky in it. Sonic watched and waited for a few minutes, two fingers pressed over the bird's pale blue breast. Finally, with a sharp exhale through his nose, Sonic covered the flicky with the dirt he'd just disturbed until each feather and the tip of their beak was buried.

He turned his back to it, then lowered to sit on his rump and stared out with that unreadable look still etched into his face. Out at the faded hills ahead of them, where the grass was beginning to yellow the closer inland they traveled and the colder it got. He patted the ground beside him, so Tails shuffled over to sit.

In the dirt, Sonic wrote with his finger. Sometimes things don't wake up again. A big part of them is gone and it can't come back.

Like the baby flicky from before and the older flicky now. Tails drew a flicky in the dirt and pointed at it. He didn't have to wonder if Sonic knew what he was asking.

Not just flickies. He wrote. Everything.

Tails touched his own chest, then pointed at Sonic.

Sonic just swiped his finger in a straight line underneath it. Everything.

Tails could believe that when he thought about how weak the two flickies had been, barely able to lift their own heads or breathe. He could believe it when he remembered how weak he'd felt every time he'd been sick on his own or every time the bullies beat him up so bad that he couldn't move, scared that he'd have no way to get food or water for days.

But Tails couldn't believe someone like Sonic could ever feel that weak.

At least, not until that winter day, when each breath physically pained him and he couldn't even open his eyes. He mumbled a little incoherently, nothing that sounded like words, just croaky grunts and whimpers that continued even in his sleep. But as bad as they made him feel, Tails preferred the coughing fits and the grunts and whines to the stillness and the quiet when it all stopped.

It was too still and too quiet and Sonic wasn't either of those things, even without saying a word.

Tails broke up their last two uncooked hot dogs into bite-sized pieces. Even though they were cold, they were better than nothing and Sonic needed to eat. In Tails's experience, food was always the best way to stop from feeling so shaky and weak. So he pushed the pieces against Sonic's mouth until he chewed, his heart shivering as he thought about pushing mushy berries into a flicky's tiny beak.

But Sonic swallowed each bite, grimacing a bit at the cold, rubbery texture. Tails couldn't help nibbling on a few either. He preferred them warm, in a soft bun and smothered with sauce that made his tummy growl just at the memory of it, but Tails had eaten worse. The not-quite-porridge from earlier in the day was definitely lower on his list of things he'd rather eat.

When the hot dog pieces were gone, Sonic's stomach still churned with hunger. He tossed and turned weakly, unable to get comfortable when everything hurt and hunger ate away at his insides and his skin burned like he was on fire. Tails pressed a handful of snow against Sonic's brow, but it melted fast and dripped down into his quills, frosting over on the tips. It only made his shivering worse.

Sonic needed to eat. He needed something more than two cold hot dogs, porridge powder, and a box of hard noodles.

There was a town a few miles away from where they were staying. They'd stopped in it a couple times so far while exploring the area surrounding the Chemical Plant Zone. It had an arcade, a library, and a diner that Sonic took them to when he had gold rings and paper notes to spare. He kept them in the wallet tucked away in one of the pockets of his backpack, but sometimes when Tails stole a peek inside and there wouldn't be anything there. They foraged for food on those days, before the winter frost killed most of what grew in the area, or Sonic would disappear for a couple of hours, only to come back with a wallet nearly full to bursting and a grin to match.

Tails fished the wallet out of the backpack. No gold rings or paper notes were hidden within its folds. He was on his own.

Luckily, Tails hadn't forgotten how to get food on his own. It was risky and he'd avoid it if he could, but this was for Sonic. Sonic did so much for him and shared every bit of food he scrounged up with him, even when he didn't have to.

The very least Tails could do was try.

Sonic needed to eat.

Tails tapped Sonic on the tip of his nose until tired and bleary eyes opened, too tired to even be very mad, though there was the barest glint of annoyance that glimmered dully behind the film of sick. Normally it was enough to get Tails to back off, ears flat and tails tucked around his legs apologetically, but in this moment, seeing that small sign of life was a relief. Tails grabbed onto Sonic's wrist and lifted it up until the red watch strapped to it was in the hedgehog's line of sight. Tongue poking out, Tails guessed at how long it would take him to get to town and back without Sonic's speed. To be on the safe side, he tapped the glass over the hour hand twice.

Sonic's eyes just closed on another, close-mouthed cough. Tails shook his limp wrist to get his attention again, this time pointing to the watch before holding up two fingers. Maybe Sonic couldn't see the watch hands when his eyes were so squinty. His fingers might be easier for him to read. I'll be back in two hours, okay?

Spasms wracked Sonic's chest as he tried to suppress the urge to cough. He tugged his wrist out of Tails's hold and rolled onto his side away from him just in time for his body to heave under the exhaustive force of his wet coughing. Tails rubbed his own chest in quiet sympathy, slowly backing away as the coughing tapered off on a wispy wheeze.

Two hours. He'd be back with food in two hours.

The sky was already darkening when he set out for town. Tails's shoes sank down into the freshly fallen snow as he scampered out of the cave. His trail of little fox footprints was a short-lived one, however, when he quickly decided it would be faster to fly and the falling snow began to slowly fill in the divots he'd left behind.

—

The street lamps spread their yellow light over the snowy sidewalk, their warmth an illusion while fat snowflakes still floated through the air. Tails kept to the outside of their glowing halos, slinking through the shadows like he was back in the village of Emerald Hill Zone. All hope of finding and bringing back food relied on his ability to stay out of sight. His ears remained perked, listening hard to his surroundings; everything muffled by the quiet winter snow.

Very few people ventured out into the streets of the small town after dark. The diner one of the only buildings with the lights still on, aside from the gambling hall and bar across the road. Bars sometimes served food, but Tails would save that in his back pocket in case he came up empty-handed at the diner.

The red, neon glow from the diner's sign reflected off the white snow on the sidewalk, though half of the letters were blacked out. Instead of "RESTAURANT" the illuminated letters spelled out an ominous "RETURN." Tails boldly pressed forward, ducking along the side of the diner.

He could smell the cooking grease through the vents as he crept around to the back of the building. Mouth watering, Tails swallowed and puffed up his cheeks with determination. He wasn't going to make a mistake just because he was distracted by being hungry. This was for Sonic.

Light from the kitchen window illuminated a small square against the snow-covered ground, the shadowy shape of a dumpster pressed against the paint-peeled wall just beyond it and a door. Tails's ears twitched, his breath held tight in his chest as the sounds of kitchen pots and pans clattered just on the other side of the window. He inched his way towards the dumpster. He didn't see a lock on it, which meant the owners probably didn't expect that people would go rifling through it for scraps. Hopefully that meant they wouldn't be waiting for him with sharpened knives and pots of boiling oil to chase him away into the night.

The back door flew open with a bang as it struck the worn siding wall. Tails skittered back around the corner with a quick whirl of his tails, only daring to peek when he heard something clanging against the dumpster. A gangly aardvark in a grease-stained apron grunted as he hefted a bag of trash over the edge of it. He let the lid fall shut with another clang that echoed through the snowy alley, then leaned against the wall with a sigh and a shiver. He fiddled with something in his apron pocket, removing a carton of cigarettes. He also pulled out a small, silver lighter.

Tails huffed, holding up his hands to his mouth to warm them while he waited and watched the aardvark shake out a single cigarette. With a snap of his lighter, he lit the end of the cigarette and took a long drag from it. As the acrid smoke wafted into the air, Tails's nose scrunched up and he stuck his tongue out. It was almost as bad as the chemical plant's smell.

But the tiny flame that flicked to life with a simple click compelled him to linger, drawn to it like a moth, but one that was too clever to let itself be burned.

New mission objective: get food for Sonic and get the lighter so he could make a fire at their campsite.

Tongue poking out the side of his mouth, Tails scraped some snow from the ground and packed it up into a ball. He tested the weight in his palm, satisfied with the density as he held it up to his face and closed one eye. Peering around the corner of the building, Tails set the aardvark in his line of sight.

As he took another puff from his cigarette, the fingers of his other hand repeatedly opened and closed the top of the lighter with a repetitive click-click. Tails crouched and twirled his tails to warm them up. Ready, aim…

The snowball smacked against the hand holding the lighter, knocking it from the aardvark's grasp and into the snow. "What the—?"

The aardvark whirled in the direction where the snowball had come from, tromping angrily through the snow to catch the perpetrator, but Tails had already flown up onto the roof. He quickly dropped down while the aardvark's back was to him, scooping up the lighter from where it fell, then flew back up to hide atop the diner. Crouched low on his belly to remain unseen, Tails kept his mouth clamped shut to keep from breathing too hard. His sharp eyes followed the aardvark as he paced the ground below, scratching his head when there was no sign of anyone save for a few footprints.

"Damn kids…" the aardvark muttered, took one more puff, then put out his cigarette against the wall.

He shuffled back to retrieve his lighter, huffing and grunting as he dug through the snow in search of it. But his hands were bare and chilled as they felt around for wherever it might've fallen, dexterity dwindling the longer he looked for it. With a resigned groan, he abandoned his search and headed back into the diner. The kitchen door closed with a heavy thud behind him.

Tails counted for a full minute before he gently eased himself back down. His hands trembled as he clutched the lighter between them, heart beating in triple speed while he watched the door warily. When it didn't reopen, he tucked the lighter into his shoe to free up his hands, then scrambled to climb up the side of the dumpster.

The lid was heavy, but with the right leverage Tails was able to force it open. He sucked in a deep breath through his mouth and held it as the odor of old food wafted up into the cold air. Dumpsters smelled worse when it was hot out, but Tails still didn't want to take any chances of getting a big whiff of something particularly rank as he leaned in.

He ribbed open the garbage bag on top, whatever food inside it likely the freshest he'd be able to fish out. There were a lot of wet and slimy things to sift through. Sauces and juices and other questionable liquids seeped into most of the scraps that were tossed into the bag, a soup of mostly unsalvageable food waste. The edge of the dumpster dug into his belly as he leaned in, his tails keeping him semi-aloft as he pushed around mushy chunks of half-eaten meatloaf, bits of burger, and pieces of pancakes soaked through with sticky syrup.

Tails was on the search for something more solid and not so mushy, and found it in some very lucky fries sheltered by a wilted cabbage leaf. They were a little extra crispy and burnt on the ends, but still soft enough to eat. He collected as many as he could, cradling them in his palm like they were as precious as gold nuggets. There was a paper cup thrown in on top of some of the other bags, so Tails used that as a container for his small haul.

He hopped out of the dumpster to set the cup down, freeing up his hands to search for more food. Dusting his gloves off, Tails straightened up with a satisfied smile and looked right into a stranger's face.

His heart stopped. Every inch of him froze in place as he was caught in the stunned stare of an alpaca mobian just a few feet away.

She stood in the yellow light of a streetlamp, just barely bleeding in between the buildings. But it was enough for her to see the shape of a small child climb out of a diner's dumpster with a cup of unwanted french fries from someone else's plate. Tails's eyes darted to the cup at his feet, then back at the alpaca's face, his breath quickly clouding the air in front of him as his instincts screamed at him to run.

It wasn't until she took a step towards him that he scooped it back up and stumbled away from her. His tails tangled up with one another, fighting over whether to twine together to look like one or spin fast enough for him to fly far, far away.

"Wait—" the alpaca called out, thinking twice about taking another step towards him. "It's okay. You're not in trouble."

A lie. It was always trouble if someone found him. Even if the food in dumpsters would only go to waste, in everyone's mind it was even more of a waste if their scraps went towards feeding him. He wasn't even worth their garbage.

A plastic bag crinkled in the stillness of the winter night, offered to him by the outstretched arm of a stranger and stopped Tails in his tracks. Sonic had offered him food. Food that was fresh and warm and filled with flavors he'd never known before. One person had thought he deserved more than other people's trash. One person went out of his way to make sure he got it.

"Here," the alpaca said. "If you're hungry, you can have this. My leftovers."

Tails watched the bag sway slightly as it was held up and away from her body. He could make out the shapes of two styrofoam containers inside it. One was a bit boxy, while the other looked like an extra wide cup. Sometimes Sonic got containers like those on the days where they ate food from a restaurant, when it was something that could be saved for later.

"It's not much. Just half a tuna melt and some tomato soup," the alpaca continued, still holding the plastic bag out. "It might not be piping hot, but it'll be warmer than those fries you've got there."

Tails tightened his grip on the cup of fries he'd collected, but his eyes remained fixed on the offered bag and the tempting aroma wafting from it. Whatever was inside that bag would probably be better for Sonic than anything he could dig out of the garbage. Not to mention the thought of giving garbage to Sonic of all people, like he didn't deserve better than that…

Sonic deserved the best.

But even though Tails wanted nothing more in that moment than to give him that, he was pinned in place by the alpaca's soft stare. Knees locked. Chest tight. Teetering just on the edge of taking flight.

The alpaca seemed to realize this, so she crouched down and set the bag on the ground. The plastic crinkled as it settled, sitting harmlessly in the snow while she took several steps back.

"It's okay. Things have been tough for a lot of people around here ever since the old chemical plant got bought out and let everyone go," she told him. "Money and food… it's all been hard to come by. So, I get it. Go ahead. Take what you need."

She continued to back away until she was back on the sidewalk, no longer a looming threat between the back of the diner and the building beside it. She smiled in the halo of the lamplight and lifted her hand in a slight wave. Her boots crunched through the snow as she walked away, disappearing into the quiet winter night without another word.

Just leaving the lone plastic bag on the ground.

His ears flicked about as his nerves seized up, but Tails slowly crept towards the food. His nose twitched as the savory smells reached him through their containers, the hearty tomato standing out most of all. It wasn't quite like the chili Sonic smothered their hot dogs with whenever he had a chance, but it was close enough that Tails thought he might still like it.

And if that lady wasn't lying—if this had been food she meant to eat later—then it couldn't be bad to eat. Couldn't be a trick or a trap. She would've had to plan that, and she'd looked just as surprised to see him behind the diner as he'd been to see her.

Puffing out his chest, Tails suddenly surged forward and snatched the bag. In a whirl, he flew up and away from the diner, only pausing on the roof of a nearby building to open the bag and inspect its contents. It was half a sandwich and a cup of soup, just like she'd said. The bread was lightly toasted and some melted cheese was starting to congeal along the edge of the sandwich from the cold, but it was fresher than anything he'd find in a dumpster.

Tails packed it all up again and set his sights on the edge of town before he took flight once more through the snowy sky.

His little tails spun as fast as he could make them go, bobbing precariously in the air as he followed the path deeper into the forest. The food wasn't that heavy, but it was a long way to fly while carrying something, even if carrying Sonic around was making him a little bit stronger each time. At least Tails thought so, and that was what Sonic said, so it must've been true.

As he came across the familiar, but now-frozen brook, Tails dropped down to his feet to give his tails a bit of a break. He traveled a bit slower through the brush in the dark, poked and prodded by the points of dead branches that he couldn't see too clearly, all while doing his best to protect the bag of food from being torn open by them.

When he finally wriggled free of them, close to the shelter of their cabin, Tails nearly broke into a run.

But something was lying in the snow just ahead of him.

Tails squinted at it in the dark, snowflakes impeding his vision as they caught on his lashes. But a dark, sharp shape cut through the white powder that looked an awful lot like…

Sonic.

The bag of food smacked against the snow when the handles slipped from his grasp, forgotten as Tails scrambled over to the misshapen lump lying face down in the middle of the path. The snow hadn't buried him completely, but it covered him enough that he had to have been lying there for at least a little while. Heedless of getting pricked this time around, Tails dug his paws through the snow drift to clear it away as quickly as he could from Sonic's quills.

Once freed, Tails rolled him over onto his back. He was stiff and so cold, his fever momentarily drowned out by the snow. His eyes were closed, but his chest still shuddered with each exhale.

Still breathing. Not gone.

With a frantic surge of energy, Tails hefted Sonic up under the arms and dragged him through the snow, heading back towards their cavern. He didn't know why Sonic had tried to leave the shelter, but now that Tails had returned with the lighter and some food, he'd make sure he'd get better. Morning couldn't come without Sonic.

When they got back inside, Tails laid Sonic down on his bed, then draped his coat and both blankets back over his body. Fishing the lighter out of his shoe, Tails spun the little wheel with his thumb until a tiny flame came to life in his hands. He held it up to the charred remains of their old campfire, tired embers slowly reigniting and warming the icy little cave.

Though his eyes were still closed, Sonic turned towards the small fire, its warmth still enough to permeate the layers he was bundled under. Tails watched him for a good minute, his heart beating just as fast as when he'd stolen the lighter from the aardvark at the diner or when he thought the alpaca might try to chase him down. Which reminded him; the food.

While Sonic warmed up, Tails darted back out to retrieve the bag of food. His cup of fries were stashed away inside it with the soup and sandwich, set aside as he unpacked everything else beside the hedgehog. His gloves were dirty from the dumpster, so he took them off and left them at the mouth of the cave so the lingering odor wouldn't invade their sleeping space too much. Then he settled in and popped open the lid to the soup first, gentle as he carried it over to Sonic's face. His nose was too stuffed up to smell it properly, unaware that the food was even there, so Tails crawled behind him and pushed his head up until it was propped up against his shoulder. Green eyes finally fluttered open, chest hitching from the change in position.

Sonic glanced down as the soup container was pressed into his hands, Tails struggling to keep both of them balanced while supporting his weight. Though his fingers were clumsy and stiff, Sonic eventually secured his grip on it while Tails guided it to his muzzle. The broth sloshed against his mouth when Tails tried tipping it towards him, but as soon as the taste registered, Sonic started to drink it down with desperate gulps. It was liquidy enough that he could, smooth and easy on his throat.

Tails made sure he drank every drop, only pulling away when the cup was empty. Sonic coughed a bit as the acidity from the tomato tickled his throat, but it quieted when Tails brought him the sandwich next. His nose scrunched a bit as he chewed, like he couldn't tell what the flavor was, but hunger outweighed any reservations he might've had and he ate more than half of it before he curled up and away from the idea of food.

Tails scarfed down what remained of the tuna melt along with each of the fries in his cup, licking the salt and grease from his fingertips when they were all gone.

Movement out of the corner of his eye immediately drew his attention back to Sonic. He'd rolled onto his side with some effort, facing Tails and the campfire. A deep frown etched across his brow as he still shivered despite the layers of blankets and the firelight flickering across his face. One arm wiggled free from the blankets, reaching out across the cave floor. His palm patted the ground, fingers grasping to hold onto something.

A deep sigh melted the tension from his body when Tails's fingers curled around Sonic's. The kit sat close, watching as the frown lines finally faded away. His muzzle was still flushed and his body still wracked with tremors, but his face slowly went slack with sleep as long as he held onto his hand.

Their hands stayed connected as Tails snuggled up against Sonic's front, his tails curling over his hip to give him a little extra warmth. Sonic's body still radiated too much heat, but it was nice to cuddle against after being out in the cold for so long. And as Tails's thicker fur surrounded the hedgehog, his shivering ceased as he settled beside him with another softer sigh.

He laid one ear against Sonic's chest, listening to the faint, wispy breaths that made it rise and fall. In his own chest, a gentle rumble built up. Whenever he felt sick, sometimes purring helped. So he purred; hard enough for Sonic to feel it through the layers tucked around him and loud enough for him to hear it over the rattling in his lungs. Though he'd been determined to watch Sonic all night, to make sure he'd wake up in the morning, Tails couldn't fight the squeaky yawn that forced his jaw open or the way the combined warmth of Sonic and the fire made his heavy eyelids droop closed. But even as Tails sank deep into his own slumber, the soft vibrations continued, soothing both himself and Sonic long into the night.

And in the morning, there would be a pot of porridge cooking over their fire and the smell would slowly rouse him from a bed that smelled like Sonic. But before he'd have a chance to fully wake, there'd be a light tap on his shoulder and two soft notes whistled against his ear, beckoning him out of the dark. C'mon, Tails.

And when Tails opened his eyes, the sun would be up, shining with a smile just for him.

And it would be a good day.

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pigeonpeach · 1 year ago

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more genshin as cats!

I ran out of ideas lol. X reader. Pure fluff

First

Second part

Albedo:

Interesting! He is fascinated with the results, checking his paws and chasing his tail trying to look at it. Meanwhile Timeaus and Sucrose are freaking out, he’s having the time of his life. He is such a curious boio now! You have to keep him on a leash at this point. He wants to see the world like this! He’s such a tricky kitty too, he’ll gnaw on the leash till it gives! You must distract him, mayhaps with crinkly paper? He will reach for potions forgetting he has no opposable thumb. He will accidentally cause chaos. He does not mean to he is just so fascinated.

Ganyu

She woke up from her nap to this? She mustve dreaming! Oh she is so distraught! Don’t let her mother see her like this! she’ll be teased about this for centuries! But she doesn’t mind being picked up. A fluffy cat indeed. Stroke her gently till she falls asleep. She will go from alert to slightly less alarmed to sleepy to asleep. Maybe being small is nice if it means she can sleep in your lap so well. So tiny and warm. Oh and the sun is just perfect…

Tighnari

Quite confused? Is he cat or fox? How odd. He must study this and find a cure, but Collei struggles to write the notes for him and understand his meows. In the end he just has to be brought to the Academia much to his disappointment. But rather than help you’ve been snapping pictures of the entire ordeal.

Furina

Who dare do this to her! You must compensate for this! Lavish her with praise! For she is the prettiest and cutest kitty ever now! Praise her praise her! Brush her fur as Neuvillette is clearly not acting with enough urgency. He struggles to maintain his composure as she meows angrily at him. You hold her close, she refuses to touch the dirty ground, you must hold her! She cannot dirty her paws! She will not groom herself you must do it for her. She demands it! She’s not usually nearly as demanding with you, she really just wants you stay with her at all times. Making up excuses and being dramatic. If you left her alone she’d mewl sadly. Calling out for you. Oh its so scary without it you! Do not abandon her now! Even if its just to prepare her something to eat.

Scaramouche

HOW DARE THE DARSHANS LAUGH! Nahida treats this like s joke too. Constantly giggling at his grumpy expression. You hold him in his hat like its a bowl. He is so very mad. He will not entertain such nonsense! Return him to his normal form this INSTANT! You leave for a second to get some food for him and yourself, closing the door to keep him from running off. And then his loneliness kicks in. Waiting by the door meowing sadly. Don’t go! How can you leave him at a time like this! As a cat he’s lost his concept of time. And then when you return he acts like he wasn’t just mewling sadly. As distant as usual. You try to tempt him with a heating pad and oh it is very nice! He cannot resist napping in such a warm spot. He still mad at you though for not taking this seriously enough.

#furina x reader #genshin imagines #i ran out of characters lol #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #silly cat thoughts #tighnari x reader #last of the series probably sorry #unless i get some ideas #silly fluff

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forestclan-clangen · 3 months ago

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MOON 7 (Part 2)

<< FIRST | < PREVIOUS |

After the Gathering, Morningpaw and Talonpaw look at the stars together. Morningpaw feels comforted by this, but Talonpaw can't help but remember Shiverkit's - now Shiverpaw's - omnious statement from moons ago - "I'm worried about the hungry eye." He finds comfort in gently resting his tail on top of Morningpaw's.

(Talonpaw, apprentice, male, 11 moons) (Morningpaw, apprentice, female, 9 moons)

Windfur bosses Cloudthunder around, asking her to carry his stuff and help him reapply herbs for Olive. Cloud snaps back at him after one too many orders, and after seieng that Olive wasn't happy being handled right now. Windfur bristles in anger and leaves the nursery. Olive is thankful that Cloudthunder noticed she was at her limit. She's happy to have a clanmate like her.

(Cloudthunder, warrior, female, 40 moons) (Windfur, medicine cat, male, 21 moons) (Olive, mediator, female, 63 moons)

---

Cloudthunder usually didn't mind spending time with Windfur. She knew he was saddled with the role of cleric early in his life, and became the sole medicine cat of ForestClan at far too young of an age. Out of a sense of compassion, she made sure that someone was looking out for him and helping him out, if he needed it.

But today, he clearly woke up on the wrong side of his bedding. She had asked if he needed any help, and he immediately set her to work without so much as a "good morning". She didn't want to complain, but she started feeling less like his friend, and more like his apprentice.

"Carry these for me. Thanks," he said as he dropped a pouch of herbs wrapped in large oak leaves in front of her. "I need to check on Olive."

Cloudthunder watched him grab sticks and moss before pushing past her and padding towards the nursery. Her tail twitched in annoyance, but she picked up the pouch of herbs and trotted after him. Her ears twitched as she started catching the conversation between Windfur and his patient.

"Can this wait?"

"No."

"I was just waking up. At least let me eat first."

Cloudthunder entered the nursery and saw Windfur hovering over Olive with fresh moss. The cleric was already untying the ropes that were securing her brace.

"Windfur." Olive's eyes narrowed, clearly unhappy.

"Give me a moment. And don't try to thrash your tail - I can see your muscle spasms. I told you that will have to be the last thing that heals," Windfur chided. The tom was disregarding Olive's frustration, which was very unlike him.

The last straw was when Windfur held out his paw to Cloudthunder. "Pass me the comfrey please."

"You know what?" Cloudthunder meowed as she put down the bundle of herbs. "Nope. You're gonna go to the cooking fire or the dry food rack."

Windfur looked at Cloudthunder with bewilderment.

"Why?"

His sincerity almost made Cloudthunder feel bad for him. Almost.

"Because you either didn't get enough sleep last night, or you didn't eat anything since yesterday. You've been bossy all morning and you haven't been paying attention to the way you speak to people." Cloudthunder's tail twitched with annoyance.

Windfur's fur bristled in anger. "I'm doing my job," he hissed.

"Yeah, and you're being as prickly as a porcupine about it," Cloudthunder retorted. "So yeah, you're going to go eat something and bask in the morning sun for twenty minutes. Then you can refresh Olive's poultice and make her a new brace."

Windfur looked like he was going to retort, his tail twitching in anger. Instead, he stormed out of the nursery and out into the camp.

There was a long moment of silence in the nursery.

"...Thank you," Olive meowed.

Cloudthunder's ear twitched in response. She watched Windfur across camp reluctantly picking at jerky from the food rack. "It's no problem. He's been bossy since this morning. It's out of character for him, honestly."

Olive huffed. "I've been dealing with him daily. I'm aware."

"Does he always shove you around in the morning like this?"

"No, he's amenable. Normally I can eat something before he'll refresh my bandages."

"I'll get you something now, then," Cloudthunder decided. She beamed at the brown molly. "Do you have any favorites?"

"I quite liked that roasted vole Barleywave made yesterday, if there's still some preserved," Olive replied. She gave her a look of gratitude.

"Can do." Cloudthunder bowed and padded towards their preserved food pile. She saw Windfur eating in a patch of sunshine, still appearing disgruntled, but taking large bites out of his food. Her whiskers twitched in amusement.

Yeah, he wasn't himself when he was hungry.

---

Shiverpaw is nervous while taking care of Olive, and the older cat notices. Olive offers to teach Shiverpaw a helpful skill - one that helps her feel more secure in her own paws. Olive feels like perhaps she still has a place in this world, and promises herself to stay - to teach cats like Shiverpaw...and her children, too.

(Shiverpaw, medicine cat apprentice, female, 7 moons) (Olive, mediator apprentice, female, 63 moons)

Morningpaw and Clouthunder meet a loner at the border. Morningpaw recognizes them, and is happy to see them! Their name is Tree. After spending some time speaking with them, Cloudthunder likes Tree's calming presence, and their knowledge on Nature's Mockery. She invites them into the clan, and they tentatively accept. It wouldn't hurt to have a home to stay in.

(Morningpaw, apprentice, female, 9 moons) (Cloudthunder, warrior, female, 40 moons) (Tree, warrior, non-binary, 38 moons)

---

Cloudthunder was eager to stretch her legs that morning. The day was warm for the middle of leaf-fall, and the trees still had their colorful leaves. When Redstar asked if she could check the border alongside Morningpaw, she had no complaints whatsoever. Morningpaw seemed rather nervous, but then again, when wasn't she nervous?

As the two cats made their way towards the riverside border, Cloudthunder would glance behind her every now and again to make sure the apprentice was keeping pace, only to see Morningpaw staring at her feet as she padded behind her.

"How you doin', Morningpaw?" Cloudthunder asked.

"Huh?" Morningpaw lifted her head, her eyes wide. "Oh, I'm good."

"Glad to hear it! You enjoying your first leaf-fall?"

"Oh, yeah," Morningpaw's tail twitched. "I really like the pretty colors on the leaves. It's too bad that the pines don't change color, though."

"The conifers staying the same are what make them reliable, though," Cloudthunder said with a twitch of her whiskers. "Good ol' evergreens! Trees are neat, honestly. You wouldn't believe how many shapes and sizes they come in!"

Morningpaw let out a polite laugh in response.

Their conversation came to a close as they approached one of their borders by a small river. Cloudthunder appreciated it while it was still here - it normally froze or dried up entirely by leafbare. She considered taking a sip from it, until she remembered her mentor's chiding when she was a young apprentice. "Did you want to get violent stomach ills? Because drinking pond water is how you get stomach ills!" Cloudthunder wanted to swat at her mentor at the time, but now she couldn't help but remember the memory fondly.

As the two cats re-marked the border, Cloudthunder noticed that Morningpaw was acting odd. She kept scanning over the bushes on the other side of the stream, as though she was waiting for something to dart out of them. The warrior knew that Morningpaw was always a nervous cat, but this was getting a bit silly.

"Whatcha looking for, Morningpaw?"

Morningpaw bristled and looked away. "Nothing."

Cloudthunder raised and eyebrow. "You look like you're expecting something."

"I'm not."

"Well, okay. But remember that your nose will likely - " Cloudthunder cut her sentence short as the wind carried an unfamiliar scent. Her eyes narrowed and she started tasting the air.

"What? What is it?" Morningpaw asked as she started to mimic Cloudthunder.

The grey and white molly wasn't quite sure, actually. It definitely wasn't something immediately dangerous. Deep Root entities had a very distinct scent that she could pick up from at least twenty fox-lengths away. Wet, slightly acidic, and smelled like blood. This wasn't it.

After a few moments, she picked up that this had to be a cat. She looked at the other side of the river and her eyes narrowed as she could see a faint shadow hiding in the bushes.

Cloudthunder frowned and her muscles tensed. "Alright, outsider. I can both see and smell you. It's fine, you can come on out. We have no quarrel."

Nothing moved at first. Cloudthunder opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a head of long, pale brown fur springing out of the bush like a gopher. The cat's emerald green eyes twinkled with a quiet mirth.

Morningpaw gasped. “Tree!” Her amber eyes were filled with relief as she started forward closer to the stream. "You're okay!"

Cloudthunder was genuinely surprised - Morningpaw knew this loner? Morningpaw, the young cat who jumped at shadows? Cloudthunder decided for the time being to be amicable, chosing to sit down. She tilted her head at the newcomer. “Who is this, Morningpaw?"

The cat calmly strolled out of their hiding spot, shaking themselves free of the stray twigs in their fur. Cloudthunder couldn't help but admire the golden tabby patches that dappled their coat and tail like autumn leaves. This one definitely took care of their coat.

"Hello again, Morningpaw," the cat meowed. They took their green eyes to Cloudthunder, and bowed their head. "And hello, warrior. My name is Tree." They sat down across the stream and wrapped their tail around their paws. "Happy to be acquainted."

Cloudthunder bowed back politely. "Cloudthunder. Likewise. Pardon me for asking, but I can't tell - do you have prefered honorifics?"

"Oh, good to know the lemonweed still works." Tree beamed and their eyes twinkled with joy. "I have been having a spot of trouble finding it this season. They and them pronouns are just fine."

Cloudthunder was impressed. Her ears twitched. Usually loners and rogues had basic knowledge of medicinal herbs, but more complex remedies and chemical changes were only known by Clan cats. This one must've had a good teacher. "Do you mind if I ask how you know Morningpaw?"

"O-Oh, it's nothing bad, honest!" Morningpaw sputtered out first. "I, um, I was out hunting with Iciclepool and Talonpaw. I was separated for a little bit chasing after a squirrel, and I ran into Tree. They let me keep the squirrel!"

"Well, that, and allegedly I should not be anywhere near these woods," Tree said with a smile.

"Well, sure, if you're just passing through," Cloudthunder meowed, her tail twitching. "There's...unsavory things out here."

"Oh, I'm aware. I'm unfortunately acquainted with them," Tree said as they licked their paw absentmindedly.

Cloudthunder's eyes went wide. "You are?"

"B-But you see, Tree says that they come from a place where there aren't any trees, but really huge fields!" Morningpaw interjected again. Suddenly, Cloudthunder noticed a spark of something in the apprentice's eyes. She couldn't decipher what it was. "Far away from here. Right?" Morningpaw turned to look at Tree for approval.

Tree stopped grooming themselves for a brief moment, looking at Morningpaw with an unreadable expression. Tree blinked slowly. "Yes. I have walked many miles and slept in many different places."

"Then..." Morningpaw padded closer, as though she wanted to leap across the river. There was a quiet pleading in her eyes. "Tree, I...I didn't get a chance to ask at the time. But, I thought, um..."

Now both Tree and Cloudthunder were focused on Morningpaw with anticipation.

Morningpaw stammered a few more times, failing to begin her sentence. She forced herself to stop, take a deep breath, then finally said, "I...I thought you might know about...about other territories."

Cloudthunder froze. Dread filled her veins. But she couldn't figure out why.

One part of her was curious, and excited. Yes. She, too, would like to know about territories Tree had seen - especially if they were from so far away.

But it was like a cold, harrowing seed was buried in her and finally sprouted. And she didn't know why.

"I just thought...maybe, if the monsters were maybe...not..."

A wave of understanding passed through Cloudthunder and Tree as they realized what the poor young cat was asking. Cloudthunder found where her dread came from. She stared at the floor as she remembered hearing about the very last patrols sent out by Lakestar to search for new territory. She remembered being just a kit, stumbling out of the nursery at night after waking up cold, and seeing her mother sitting on the camp gates, staring out into the woods. She remembered seeing her father climb up to her and beckon her to return to the den. She remembered hearing her mother cry in her sleep - "Mama, come back, come back," - but Cloudthunder never had the courage to shake her awake.

Tree must've felt Cloudthunder's sorrow, as they started purring quietly. "While I cannot tell you whether or not they're more plentiful here or elsewhere, I can confirm that I've seen them outside of these woods." Tree's ear flicked. "I find that whatever they are...they are attracted to Twoleg activity. And Twolegs span across vast territories, just like cats do."

Morningpaw's expression faltered, and the glint of hope that rested within her eyes were dashed. She looked devastated.

Cloudthunder instinctively placed her tail on Morningpaw's shoulder. While Cloudthunder couldn't muster the idea of leaving the territory, deep down, she understood Morningpaw's vision. She was always the quietest and most nervous cat in the clan. She abhorred violence and had frequent nightmares as a kit about Deep Root entities. If anyone wished to escape the Woodcrawlers - she couldn't blame a child for dreaming of a world without danger.

For a brief moment, she wondered if maybe she should take Morningpaw across the border during one of their excursions...maybe they could find Ferncreek, maybe he could offer Morningpaw the life of a kittypet...?

"But, I will offer you some hope," Tree added. "Namely...they are not invincible."

Morningpaw looked up from her paws, her eyes were watering. "...They aren't?" Morningpaw's voice was strained and small.

"Of course they aren't." Tree let out a small smile and blinked slowly at the apprentice. "They're just animals. Some animals are dangerous, like foxes...badgers...dogs, what have you. But animals still bleed, and make decisions. A dog can be chased off with enough intimidation and claws. The giant spiders are much the same."

"Giant spiders?" Morningpaw echoed, looking bewildered.

"Woodcrawlers," Cloudthunder reassured her. She understood what Tree meant; cats outside the clans had different names for the monsters. "They have very long legs, so some cats say they're spider-like."

"Ah, true, you would have a different word for it. What do you call the black effigies?" Tree asked.

"Black effigies...oh, do you mean the Nature's Mockery? The sort of...triangular plants?"

"Yes, those. And the floating lights?"

"Close, for us. Luring lights."

"Well, they are near their dens often, I suppose that makes sense."

"You've seen Fake Beings too, then?"

Tree's expression fell. "...Once. I thought I imagined it. A Zombified Twoleg."

"Unfortunately not." Cloudthunder's copper eyes filled with sympathy. "Ever heard a cat calling for help in an unusual manner?"

Tree gave Cloudthunder a horrified look, their ears slowly folding back. "...No."

"I...suppose a loner might avoid trouble where possible," Cloudthunder admitted. "Fake Cats exist too. They don't last very long, thankfully. The Twolegs seem to have the worst outcome. Cats are affected for about a week or two." Cloudthunder stood up from her spot. "I'm...surprised that you know this much about Deep Root entities, all things considered."

Tree paused for a while, processing this information. They took a deep breath before bringing their ears back to the side of their head. They gave their head a shake, as though forcibly flattening their fur."One meets strange things during their travels. A...Fake Cat is not one of them, but that may be a blessing." Tree followed Cloudthunder's lead. "Thankfully, I've learned the spiders - Woodcrawlers, I supposed you call them - don't do well without a hide to retreat to. They're ambush predators. Any bold enough to chase, tend to flee if you can tear out the tendons of one of their legs. I wouldn't recommend it for the same reason I don't recommend fighting a fox. But it does know how to flee, with enough persuasion."

Cloudthunder's pupils dilated at the idea of raking her claws across one of the bastards and watching it squirm. She knew that would be great hubris, but still - she could keep it in her reverie. With how much information Tree had about Woodcrawlers... "Redstar's gonna want to hear this," she mused out loud.

"Who?" Tree asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Redstar," Morningpaw mumbled. "She's our leader."

"Hey, Tree, I know this is a very bold request to make, from one stranger to another. But..." Cloudthunder offered a gentle purr. "Would you like to join ForestClan?"

Tree seemed caught off guard by this. "A cat colony, being welcoming to outsiders? That's a first. Morningpaw made it seem like I'd be chased off," they meowed, failing to suppress the amusement in their tone.

"ForestClan is...different," Cloudthunder admitted with a shrug. "Our methods would be considered advanced for some."

"More advanced than a cat using lemonweed to hide their chemical scent?" Tree asked with a twitch of the whiskers, their green eyes filled with amusement.

Morningpaw had remained quiet for much of their exchange, still chagrined. But upon hearing this comment, she said nonchalantly, "We can start fires."

"...You can what now?"

"Don't get the wrong idea - we don't really start them easily, per se, more like maintain the cinders," Cloudthunder laughed. "But yes - we do know how to start them, if necessary. It's hard, but it preserves food quite well."

"And we have dry bedding. And defenses. You wouldn't have to be alone," Morningpaw added quietly. Despite her mood, she sounded hopeful at the idea that Tree would stay. Tree seemed unsure about the prospect, but after looking between Cloudthunder and Morningpaw for a while, they sighed and began crossing over the stepping stones laid out on the stream.

"Oh, I may as well see, at least. A story to tell other travellers, if nothing else." Despite Tree's noncommittal statement, the way their golden tail flicked with interest as they padded in between the two cats told them otherwise. "Well, shall we?"

Cloudthunder suppressed a mrrow of amusement.

Something told her she was going to like them.

---

< PREVIOUS | NEXT>

#warrior cats #clangen #warrior cats clangen #wc oc #pixel art #warriors cats #wc art #clan generator #clangen art #forestclan #forestclan moons #Cloudthunder #Olive #Windfur #Talonpaw #Morningpaw #Tree #warrior cats art #warriorcats

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