Can you imagine getting into an argument with the devil over not wanting to share a bed? Guy probably sheds as much as 10 cats, I wouldn’t want to deal with that
A/N: Anon I hated how right you were so much that I ended up writing this. It's a bit short, but I wanted to try something new!
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The Devil sits upon his personal bed. His arms are crossed and face marred with a sour frown, and his tail whips about under the blankets.
You stare back; unfazed and eyes narrowed as you stare daggers into the sheets. Both of you sit in a silent deadlock, neither one backing down.
He’s the first to break it.
“What do you mean, no?”
His voice wavers as he struggles to not sound offended, the nest of fur upon his chest bristling in annoyance.
That damned, rough fur.
“Hon,” you slowly say, carefully choosing your next move. “I love you more than life itself,” your lips twitch as a quiet rebellious purr leaves his chest. “...but I can’t do this anymore.”
You uncross your arms to place them on your hips. Thin, dark strands of hair fall from your chest like itchy confetti; the fallout paltry in comparison to the mess of demon hair stuck to you.
“This,” you point aggressively at your sleep shirt. “was white when I first got it. Do you see how much you shed?”
The Devil lips press into a thin line as he sniffs, eyes darting off to the wall next to you. His ears fold down as a faint red dusts his dark cheeks.
“...I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the demon mutters.
He avoids looking at you and his shoulders grow stiff.
You narrow your eyes.
Without a word, you stomp towards the bed. With almost mechanical stiffness, you stop directly next to your lover.
His gaze sharply darts back to you, and his shoulders stiffen as he tries to lean back.
Before he could open his mouth, you rip the sheets off the bed.
In an instant, black hairs explode everywhere. You silently watch the Devil’s mouth tighten further, desperately trying to tuck his head into like a hair-covered turtle.
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Cultist Frostfur still has dreams about a life spent with Spottedleaf but they always end in nightmares.
cw: unreality horror, descriptive gore
The warmth of a pelt pressed against her side, and Frostpaw purred reactively, cracking an eye open and smiling as Frostpaw crouched down beside her. She laid a mouse down in front of them.
"A mouse," meowed Spottedpaw, amber eyes shining just as bright as her always-shy smile. "For you. Freshest from the pile."
"Aw, Spottedpaw," purred Frostpaw in response. "Thank you. Brightkit, come see what auntie Spottedleaf got you!"
Frostfur craned her head over her shoulder, looking for her white and orange spotted she-kit, the prettiest kit of her litter. She smiled, warmth bubbling in her chest as she saw the kitten bumble out of the shadows.
"Auntie Spottedleaf!" cried the little kit. "A mouse! For me!"
Brightkit came to a halt in front of the bloodied carcass, immediately diving her tiny head down to bite at the flesh, ripping at it with little fangs.
Frostfur shrieked, leaping to her feet as she watched her tiny baby devour the corpse---the corpse of---"Brackenkit!" she screeched. She lashed a paw out, tearing Brightkit away from the brown-furred body. Blood dripped down from Brightkit's white chin, staining her beautiful fur a horrible dark crimson.
Frostfur screamed again, jerking away from her beloved daughter as a gaping hole stared back where her left eye was. It was completely devoid of anything, a black hole of endless shadows, devouring the pretty side of her face.
Brightkit smiled up at her, teeth fanged and sharp, unnaturally so, and painted red with thick blood.
"What's wrong mama?"
Frostfur's gaze snapped up at Spottedleaf, smiling at her.
"What's wrong, Frostfur?
"Aren't you happy?"
Frostfur's head snapped up, heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes were wide, staring into the completely darkness around her before her eyes slowly adjusted, taking in the shapes of the trees around her.
Rapid breaths left her lungs as the imagine of Brackenfur's dead body and Lostface's empty socket seared into her vision. She could see them in every shadow she saw---every twitch of her own whiskers she mistook for Cinderpelt limping through the woods or Thornclaw's towering form lurking nearby.
Her claws dug into the cold dirt and she shook her head, growling fiercely as the fur along her spine fluffed, a moonhigh chill making her achingly cold.
She abruptly stood to her feet, tail lashing as she paced forward, staring at her own paws and nothing else.
Obi-Wan did his best to comply and focus on the holo they’d been watching. The lost kitten was eventually saved by her brave dog friend, and they continued on their way to try and find their missing owners. He mostly managed to ignore the angry sniffling beside him, but did have to cover his mouth to hide another smile.
Uraraka rolled her eyes, carefully stepping through the woods. The pads of her fingers lingered against the branches as she moved toward her boyfriend. “I know,” she whispered, stepping lightly as she approached. The summer grass crunched beneath her boots as she moved.
“What took you so long?” Bakugo folded his arms in front of him, staring up at the heavy night clouds peeking through the tops of the trees.
“Mina.” They’d spent the better part of the day hiking through the unknown terrain and fighting off elements summoned from their training mentors, and somehow Mina still had the energy to gossip about the boys in their class. Momo, Jiro, and Hagakure had drifted off to sleep the moment their heads had hit their sleeping bags. Tsu had tried to listen, but she was too exhausted to care about the current class drama which left Uraraka to take the brunt of Mina’s chatter.
“Tch,” Bakugo huffed as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Don’t be like that,” she whispered. Threading her hands up the back of his neck, Uraraka tangled her fingers in his hair as she pulled their foreheads together. His natural scent of smoke and spice tickled her nose and warmed the pit of her stomach.
His jaw clenched, forcing his trademark scowl on his face. She didn’t need to know he wasn’t really mad at her.
“Katsuki.”
The corners of his lips twitched as the corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement.
Uraraka closed the space between them, pressing her body against him. “I saw that,” she breathed melodically as she smiled.
“Whatever, angel face,” Bakugo growled, crushing their lips together.
She smirked against his lips, sighing happily as his hands cupped her face. His fingers curled into her hair as he held her close against him. “We shouldn’t stay out here long,” Uraraka murmured against his lips. “We probably should get some sleep.”
Bakugo pulled her jacket from her body as the sky rumbled above them. “Not yet,” he sighed, sliding his hands up her shirt as he gripped her waist.
“Ka-”
Soft kisses fluttered down her neck as he pushed her against the tree.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as she pulled his shirt from his body. Water droplets trickled from the sky and gathered at his shoulders. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she pulled him against him. Lightning flashed as his fingers played against the edge of her bra.
The sky lit up around them as the heavens flooded around them.
Bakugo inhaled slowly, pressing a tender kiss against her neck as he pressed a heated palm against her stomach. “Not yet.”
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May I have 9 and 13 with Éomer? Can it be fluffy? Thanks for having these prompts!
#9: I probably won’t be coming back.
#13: Can I kiss you?
MINI SHOT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED. I am finishing up the ones I received before the deadline.
You sprinted down the steps of Meduseld and onto the streets, heading for the stables. It was a dreary day and a drizzle began pouring from the gray sky. Your feet were slipping in the mud with every step. Your hair was plastered against your skin. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest and tears threatened to mingle with the rain on your cheeks.
“Please do not let me be too late.” You begged silently as you literally slid to a stop in front of the stables. You stepped inside and sagged with relief at the sight of Éomer, still there. He was, a bit angrily, strapping down his saddle. He glanced over at the door and his shoulders sank as he saw you.
“You would leave without even saying goodbye?” You asked, breathlessly.
“I was hoping to spare you from this.” He said, slowly lowering his gaze to the floor. You shook your head and ran forward with a sob, throwing yourself against his chest. He hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, burying his face against your damp hair. His chest tightened as he felt you shake in his arms with small sobs. You pushed away after a moment, reaching to cup his face between your palms.
“How can he do this? You are his nephew!” You asked in a strained voice, doing your best to keep from crying anymore. He put his hand over yours and leaned into your touch.
“You know as well as I that it is not him. It is Grima.” He mumbled.
“We can fight this. We will think of something. We…” You started.
“Y/N. I probably will not be coming back.”
“Eomer do not say that. I will find a way. If I have to kill…” Your voice broke as he pulled your hands from his cheeks and held them.
“Do not do anything reckless. I need you to be strong. Stay here, protect my sister.” He slid his hands up your arms to your neck and he pulled you close.
“Éomer I…” You started before he cut you off.
“Can I kiss you?” His eyes were soft and full of sadness.
“Of course.” You mumbled, tilting you head up to meet his lips. It was soft and sad as he tugged your lips between his. You tasted the salt of tears but couldn’t tell if they belonged to him or you. His fingertips dug into your scalp matching the desperation that your hands had, clinging to his tunic.
“My lord?” A man called from the stable door. “The guards are coming.”
Éomer pulled away and nodded at the man before looking into your eyes.
“Be safe.” You pleaded in a whisper. He pushed another kiss against your lips and one against your forehead before he stepped back and swiftly swung up onto his horse.
“I love you.” He said sadly before snapping the reigns. His horse trotted out, carrying Éomer out into the rain. You fell to your knees inside the stables, burying your face into your hands.
Type: Mini Shot
Genre: Fluff
Member: Joshua
Word count: 908
A pen twirls between your fingers as you look out the window. To be specific, gazing over to the bedroom window next door that perfectly aligned with yours. Your homework was sprawled all over your desk as you had long forgotten about it, finding something more interesting to focus on.
In that room, there’s a boy around your age sitting on the edge of his bed. With his guitar in his arms, he gently strums the strings with his fingertips. He must have been playing the instrument to clear his mind by the way his eyes stared off into the distance.
Sighing, your chin rests on your palm.
It all started when you moved into your house two years back. After settling into your room, you looked out the window to find the boy next door sitting on the ledge of his large window with one leg hanging out. His hand was out, feeling the cold rain on his skin.
You knew you were badly smitten when you begged your siblings to help rearrange your room without a reason, specifically requesting that your desk be faced in front of the window.
You expected to see him at school, but he was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t too long when acquaintances and people who eventually became your friends had told you that he was homeschooled. Whenever you wondered the reasons why, you heard multiple “theories.”
One friend told you that they heard from another friend that he was the illegitimate child of a CEO millionaire and to keep the press in check, they hid his existence. If he had no contact with the outside world, the media wouldn’t find out about the affair and the child that had been born out of wedlock.
From another friend, you heard that he had been extremely sick as a child and had a weak immune system- but that was proven false. With his guitar case in one hand and his mother by his side, he stepped out of the house on the weekends. For religious reasons, you assumed. Rarely he’d step out during the weekdays and when he did, it was usually to the car with his mother before they would drive off somewhere else.
The most popular rumor was that he was quite a delinquent. Bad reputation, fights at least every other week, breaking the hearts of every girl that crossed his path.
You didn’t know which one to believe, but you chose to believe the one you always saw before you. The feline-eyed boy who gently smiled to himself whenever he wrote in his journal and strummed his guitar on the sunniest days.
Your sweet daydream is broken when a voice from downstairs calls your name. Groaning, you sprung from your seat and storm out of your room, raising your voice as you reply back to them.
The faint humming from Joshua’s throat slowly ceases as his fingertips pluck the guitar strings rather than strum. His eyes advert over to the window, hoping to spot a figure sitting at their desk. He rose to his feet as his head waves from side to side, wondering if you were hiding somewhere.
Setting his guitar aside, he settles back on his bed. As his eyes gaze out the window, he asks himself if you were in a better mood today.
A few days back, you were crying at your desk and he had just happened to witness it. He didn’t know you, but it caused him distraught.
Were you crying over a sad movie you still couldn’t get over?
Did your parents say something hurtful to you?
Did someone say something that upset you?
Joshua looks over to the sketchbook lying open on his desk. He gets up to retrieve it before walking over to the bay window, the same window that faced yours. His back rests against one of the window panels as he sat down. He flips through the accumulating pages he had scribbled on the past days. Lame jokes, funny drawings- anything to lift your spirit.
He felt so helpless as he watched you wipe away your own tears. He wanted to say something. He wanted to make you smile.
Oh god, he loved your smile and he knew he did the first moment he saw you.
Joshua had peeked out the window one day after hearing about the new family that moved into the house next door. And there you were, in the backyard to tend to the large beds of flowers. There was a smile on your lips as your fingers ran along the soft, colorful petals.
Maybe it was his inexperience with girls, but you woke up a curiosity inside him that made his stomach painfully turn.
Joshua stops on a certain page, his fingertips running along the black lines.
It was something simple; classic.
He takes a deep breath, mustering up all the courage inside him. It was little late for a formal introduction but he was finally ready to reach out to you. He keeps his eyes out, patiently waiting.
After what felt like hours, you finally return to your desk. Joshua straightens his posture and raises the open sketchbook. Coincidentally, you look up from your messy desk at the same time.
The boy next door smiles gently as he holds up a sketchbook with large, bold, black letters inked onto a page. You leaned over your desk, reading the simple greeting.
T: Obscure AU (in which I blatantly show off my roots)
Boba had known it was a mistake the moment he’d stepped aboard the dilapidated fishing trawler, but the hunt was on and no other ships were available. Everyone wanted to cash in on the big bounty, but he was confident that his own skills could overcome any deficiencies in his transportation, and given the way most of the other boats had left (or attempted to leave) Amity Harbor, he wasn’t concerned about any competition.
“You ever hunted sharks before, Mr. Solo?” Boba already knew the answer, but he wanted to see what the captain would say.
“Oh yeah, loads of times! Isn’t that right, Chewie?”
The first mate’s reply was unintelligible. Solo swore he was speaking English, but if so, his accent was so heavy Boba couldn’t understand it.
“Yeah, in fact, you ever heard of the Kessel shark?”
“No,” Boba said, because no such shark existed.
“I’m not surprised.” Solo swaggered about the deck. “Very rare shark. We’re the only ones to have ever caught one!”
“Is that so? I can see I’m in good hands.”
Solo puffed up at that, earning a chuckle from Chewie.
Boba let him talk, spinning up an incresingly outrageous tale of a shark who owed more to B-grade Hollywood horror movies than biology. While he listened, he kept his eyes on the horizon. That killer shark was out there somewhere; he could feel it.
Who knew? Maybe when this was over, Captain Solo would have a real tale to tell. Boba might even be inclined to buy him a drink.
