cat vibes from simon riley. you try to move his head or something and he looks at you like you've committed the worst crime in history
oh fr those arms that are wrapped around you will just get tighter if he thinks you're even thinking of getting up. he'll just scoot further up so his head is right on your chest, pinning you even more with his weight so you really can't move. any attempts to talk to him, push him off, or 'wake him up' will be met with a loud, overly exaggerated snore. wriggle too much or get too loud and you'll get some pretty intense stink-eye thrown your way.
(and don't even get me started on how much that man loves kneading at the fat on your hips, ass, and belly like a cat making biscuits. if he could purr, he would.)
You were going to do it. You were going to fuck the merge.
You'd been planning this out for months, learning his territory that he walked religiously, studying his tells as he chased and mauled fools unwary enough to stumble into his reach.
And it all led here, to tonight. Clothes? Easily removable. Underthings? Absent. Hole that was about to be wrecked? Stretched and lubed. You were dumb but you weren't stupid. You knew he wasn't going to play nice so you worked on stretching yourself out these past few months, your credit card weeping at the cost of your new toys. But it was worth it.
As you ducked and weaved through the corridors you reminded yourself what this was all for, mentally bracing for the second most dangerous part of the evening.
His grunting growls following you ever closer as you led him to the first of two traps you had spent time setting up before he had caught a whiff of you earlier and began the chase.
///
It's time to stick your fingers in his mouths.
You looked at the pissed off merge where he was stuck in a hole, cables twisted and knotted from shoulder to elbows, then again around his calves. You really hoped it would hold.
Pulling the first of three prepared toothbrushes from your pocket, you stuck it into the snarling middle mouth and braced yourself before he . . . froze? Why wasn't he moving? It doesn't matter, focus! you snap before beginning to brush with a vengeance.
The shock factor didn't last nearly as long as you would've liked. All too soon Middle is pulling his head back, trying to escape your hand while his restrained arms reach for you, grasping fingers trying to bridge the distance.
You chased after him with the toothbrush, being as quick as you could, ensuring you scraped it along his tongue one or twice too only to giggle at his wet gag. Does that make you a bad person? Meh. On the list of things you've done recently this will rank pretty low.
Your heart is pounding as you drop the first toothbrush, not bothering to pull it from Middles mouth before you're grabbing the second prepared brush, turning to Right to repeat the process.
Jab. Brush. Chase after him. Don't overextend and fall. Jab again. Oops, missed his mouth, he shouldn't have moved.
After what felt like years Right was done and you were reaching for the third brush when you heard the cables begin to groan and creak where they were tethered, one or two faint snaps heard.
"Okay then! We're all done here, two are better than none," you say to yourself in delighted terror as you scramble backwards, putting distance between you and the merge so you can catch your breath, calm down and get ready for the next act.
Hopefully your second trap will hold better than the first.
SYNOPSIS : A kind of headcanon-like thingy about Cat Shifter!Nikto meeting his reason to live.
WARNINGS : Mention of Nikto thinking about how deadly his job is for a moment. Otherwise, this is pure fluff.
Author’s Note : I’m back, and I’ve got a few things to share, starting with this ! The worms have been wiggling about hybrids and shifters lately. Maybe it’ll become a new AU.
I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.
Nikto catches sight of Reader multiple times during a long stay at the base they work at. He quickly learns that they have a job in the administration, and comes to appreciate the aura they exude. Their smile seems engraved in his mind both day and night, refusing to leave his thoughts. He finds himself wishing to be the source of their happiness, even if just for a fleeting moment.
Yet he can’t stop his mind from lashing out against this feeling, screaming about how doing so could lead him to another path full of pain ; like it always seems to be.
Which is why he decides to find a compromise with himself and approach them in an… Unconventional way.
He comes to them in his animal form - a black, rugged little stray cat with piercing blue eyes and patches of scarred skin lingering among his already unruly fur. As always, he stays silent ; making them jump when someone points out that a peculiar feline is following them at a distance, never letting them out of its sight.
They immediately start cooing at him, lowering their voice as if to not startle him. They stay where they are, calling him with a hand outstreched towards his form. Despite his usual wary self, he immediately grasps the opportunity between his paws, giving their fingers the tiniest sniff before timidly snuggling against them.
Still, it takes him quite some time before he manages to not instinctively shy or jump away from their touch. Yet they never seem to get tired of him - smiling and slow blinking at him as he lays on what quickly became his special chair and blanket in their office, sometimes talking to him quietly, allowing him a glimpse of their thoughts.
They respect his space, which he is constantly grateful for. They ask for his permission before petting him, slowly coming to hold a hand in front of his nose, and never getting upset when he doesn’t feel like cuddling. They apologize whenever they accidentally spook him, and try to calm him down with a few peaceful words and coos. They try to contain their excitement whenever he allows them to pet or kiss him, yet he can feel it radiating from them.
He become the source of their joy more and more, and he can’t help but feel a little smug about it.
However, he isn’t really fond of their colleagues. Some of them try to force their need for feline cuddles on him despite Reader’s warnings. They make a show of lightly scolding him when he scratches, bites or hisses at the idiots, but never fail to smile and reassure him when he grumbles about it after the unwanted attention-seeker leaves.
« They never learn the lesson, do they ? » They say. « I’m sorry, Baby. » Nikto wishes he could tell them they are not the one who needs to apologize, especially not when they are so good to him.
He also likes that name. Baby. But don’t tell anyone.
One man, though, is worse than the others. He never comes to try and pet him, and Nikto doesn’t care about the way he looks at him, as if he were the scourge of the Earth - he is used to the negativity dancing in the eyes of others on his path, even more in his human form. But the man flirts shamelessely with his human, and he loathes it. He can feel Reader’s discomfort the second that arrogant bastard’s footsteps echo down the hall, and sees the exasperated sigh that crosses their lips just before he automatically makes his way through the door as if he owns the whole place. Nikto makes his point by glaring at him until the idiot gets uncomfortable enough to leave, and hisses when he breezes past his chair on his way out. He relishes in the satisfied smile they give him, the kisses they blow his way as a relieved thank you.
Then comes the day he has to go on a mission again. He doesn’t know how long he will be gone, if he’ll even be able to see them again. His shoulders are heavy as he boards the plane, glancing one last time at the door beyond the tarmac wondering if, somewhere in the building, the one that holds his heart will be waiting for his return.
And said heart leaps with delight when he finally steps on the base’s grounds again ; battered and bruised, exhausted and sore, but alive. He doesn’t waste a second to let his little paws follow the lines of the corridors leading to his Reader’s office. The arrogant flirt is there when he arrives, and Nitko is more than happy to tear their attention away from him the second he walks through their door. He rubs his entire side against their legs, his face against their fingers. He preens as the idiot bites back a snarl and almost runs out of the room ; his love doesn’t even notice, to busy running their hands through his fur as they ask him where he’s been.
« I’ve been thinking, » they say, sounding like they are about to make him the most outrageous of confessions, « would you like to come home with me ? »
Nikto is too focused on trying to quell the erratic beating of his heart to register their nervous babbling about how they asked around and learned he was a stray hanging around the base, and how they have been thinking about it for months. He cuts them off with his first meow in what feels like an eternity. It’s rough, and almost sounds nothing more like a disgusting gurgle in his ears ; but their eyes lit up with happiness, their excitement wafting off of them in unrestrained waves as they pick him up. And he lets them, his claws digging into their shirt as if they were going to vanish right before their eyes.
His new reality settles in as they settle him on the floor of their apartment. The scents are the first thing that hits him. It smells like them, feels like them. The cushions on their sofa are the softest against his rugged pawpads, but so are their carpets and their bed. They let him explore every single corner of their home - his home, they insist on saying, and Nikto’s heart threatens to burst out of his ribcage.
He now spends his days lounging in their office, learning to indulge in his teasing side more as he rolls around on their desk, and his nights in whatever free space of their apartment he feels like invading. He learns to meow more, his voice sounding the tiniest bit clearer every time, and to purr too. The rumbles are awkward and raspy, but he happily lets them out as Reader combs through his erratic fur.
He sighs dreamily whenever they turn their back, wishing he could give them everything they offer him back tenfold. So he takes it upon himself to « groom » them whenever they try to detangle his fur, showering them with his own kind of kisses and silent love. He fights his aversion for touch to cuddle more, savoring the smiles it brings out on their face. He goes to sleep next to their pillow, and wakes up sprawled on top of their chest, listening to their quiet heartbeat.
There’s this one time when they tell him how much he reminds them of a certain masked soldier they crossed paths with a few times back at the base. They gush about the piercing blue of the man’s eyes, so similar to his ; his confident strides, the nods of greeting he took the time to offer them, his silent, brooding and soothing presence in the elevator. They recall the time the soldier shielded them from a pushy idiot, telling him off with the silent sharpness of a stone and the coldness of ice. Nikto doesn’t need to be told the details of this story ; he remembers well the blush coating their cheeks as he escorted them back to their office, wary of the glint that danced in the flirty soldier’s eyes. A blush so similar to the one they carry as they gush about that « imposing gentleman of a stranger » - and probably to the one warming up his own face under his fur.
A part of him is terrified at the idea that they might end up catching on the situation - that the cat they adopted, that they worry about for months when he disappears, is actually that man they would love to know more leaving on deadly missions. He considered multiple times faking his death once more to finally be able to stay with them for good, protect them too. But the thought of being rejected, thrown out for being a disgusting creep, tears his heart apart.
Yet another side of him starts purring the second he thinks about how he could finally be accepted for who he is. A feline shifter, yes, but also a broken man, yearning for love behind the many walls and barriers he hides behind in order to protect himself.
They don’t know the truth, obviously. He’s been very careful about everything, though he can’t do anything about the deployments.
But for the first time in forever, Nikto hopes.
And for the first time in forever, he might be surprised by how sharp his dear Reader can be…
thinking it was a good idea making now retired simon wear his old mask for role play but now you're kinda afraid because you can feel his eyes on you but he's nowhere in sight and being hunted in your own home is actually terrifying
Statement of [Name Redacted], regarding her camping trip in The Grampian Mountains. Original statement given January Fifteenth, Two Thousand and Fifteen. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.
Statement begins.
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)
Now, before you say anything, I know how I sound. I know that it was stupid to go out into the middle of uncharted wilderness and get piss drunk. Believe me, I'm not interested, the park ranger gave me an earful when he found me and the cops did the same. Especially now. But.. something happened, something bad, and if I don't - if I don't say it, I don't know. I'll explode.
So…
I'm not really an outdoors type. I'm an inside cat, I like to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea and my cat, but Farah insisted for her birthday that we go camping. She's always been like that - hiking, caving, camping, it's her thing, and when Farah wants something, she's set on it. Doesn't let it go, especially because she knows how to cash in favors.
So - we went. I didn't want to go, but we went. Me, Farah, her boyfriend, Alex, and her boyfriend's friend. John. I didn't really know him, but he seemed nice enough. We were supposed to spend a long weekend roughing it, three days and three nights for the holiday. We packed plenty of booze, plenty of food, all the proper first aid crap.. and we spent four hours hiking to what John said was the perfect spot.
He was strange from the get-go. A little too touchy-feely, a little too in your space, but he seemed… enthusiastic, I don't know. Eager. He was obviously passionate about it, kept stopping me to show me edible plants, poisonous mushrooms, whatever caught his eye. If it was notable, you'd best believe he was stopping to point it out. It was almost kind of cute, if it wasn't so.. feverish.
[VOICE DROPS, ASSUMING SCOTTISH ACCENT.]
"Look, bonnie, look here," and he kept saying it, over and over. It felt like he was trying to prove something - like that he could take care of me, maybe? I don't know.
He just.. didn't stop. He had so much energy, kept moving, expression bright and eyes wild, kept insisting I call him Johnny. It wasn't.. flirting - I don't know what it was. Too familiar. He was so big, just this huge guy, looming over me, smiling with these insanely white teeth that..
Is it crazy to say they looked sharper than.. normal? I know, cliche, but they looked.. sharp. Like fangs. Whatever.
So we settle down on the first night, and of course we all start drinking, set some sausages over the fire, the whole deal. Farah is a clingy drunk, so she disappears with Alex into the woods as soon as she's got some booze in her, and then it's just me and John - Johnny. He hasn't drank a sip the whole time we've been there, just clutching the same beer bottle, nursing it for hours, just.. watching us, and his gaze is so intense. Like he's sizing us up.
At some point, he gets up. Says something about it being "about time", offers me this wink, and then he's strolling off into the woods, whistling to himself.
A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go…
He doesn't come back for naarly an hour. They don't come back for nearly an hour, and I start to get a little worried. I mean, look at me, I would not be able to, like, fight a bear if it came down to it, you know? I just keep feeding the fire, getting jumpier and jumpier, but eventually, he comes back, and..
At first, I don't know what it is. He just looks.. dark. His mohawk looks wet, and his clothes are stuck to him, outlining every muscle, but he doesn't step out into the firelight, stays in the shadows, so only his eyes and his teeth are visible, reflecting the light, and it feels wrong, feels sick.
He asks me, point blank, if I'm tired, and angles his head towards one of the two tents, and I tell him no, not yet, I'm waiting for Farah to get back, and he, uh.. he tells me she's not coming back.
When he steps into the firelight, it's like he's prowling, stalking more than walking, you know? He's moving like… like a predator, all smooth and uncanny, and now that I can see him, I can see that the wetness is.. blood, and he's covered in it, like, head to toe. It's worse at his mouth, his teeth are totally stained, like he was just.. ripping into something, I don't know. Biting. And his teeth are too sharp, and with the way he's moving, and the blood, and.. the look on his face, I just.. bolt.
And he laughs.
I can hear it echoing through the woods, bouncing off of every tree, but I don't hear him running after me. No, he just.. starts walking, and that scares me more, because he's so casual about it. Like he knows I won't get away.
But I run, and as I run, I can hear it, bouncing off of every tree, and it's December, right, so there aren't any leaves to block the moon or muffle the sound. I can hear him whistling as he walks, always seeming to be too close to me, no matter how fast I run, just out of sight, and eventually, I get to a clearing.
Everything feels too still. No nightlife - and there hasn't been any wildlife, no birds, no squirrels, nothing, and I'm realizing how bad that is.
And of course, I trip. My foot gets stuck in a gopher hole, of all fucking things, and then I'm dropping down, and he's on me.
His hand on my wrist, leaning down, and he's -
I don't know.
His eyes are blown out, manic, his teeth so large, ears.. pointed? I don't know, but he's drooling as he ruts against me, all but frothing at the mouth, mumbling about mates and calling me his little bunny, telling me that I had my fun, but that he's ready to have his prize, and-
And I have my bear mace still.
Because I can't fight bears.
He starts fidgeting with my clothes, and I just.. I pull it out, spray him, and he's so big, so unnaturally big, his muscles all.. I don't know, tense, wrong, and I spray him until he's howling and then I run.
I don't think the park ranger was happy to see me, but I was sure as shit happy to see her.
The thing is.. and why I came to you guys..
I keep.. getting this feeling.
Like I'm being watched. Hunted.
Like I never really escaped him.
ARCHIVIST
Statement ends. We attempted to contact Miss [REDACTED] following a similar statement we'd received months ago, regarding a man fitting the same description, but when Martin spoke to her, she informed him that all was fine, and that she was happy now.
That she was expecting pups.
Knowing Martin, he likely misheard her. I'm likely to dismiss this as a hallucination; with the mushrooms she discussed, perhaps she ingested some. The police seemed to think the same, and administered a drug test upon her statement, which came back... clean.
There isn't much more we can do here. If Miss- er, Mrs. MacTavish, doesn't wish to aid in further investigation, we, unfortunately, are stuck at a standstill.
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