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Papa Emeritus is hot af wth-?

Jealousy is in the Air

Synopsis: When a charming newcomer to the team takes a little too much interest in you, Kurt Wagner finds himself battling an unfamiliar feeling—jealousy. His usual calm demeanor wavers as he awkwardly tries to mask his growing frustration. Despite his best efforts to stay composed, his swishing tail and brooding glances give him away. It doesn’t take long for you to notice, and when you confront him about it, he shyly admits his feelings, afraid he might have overstepped. Reassuring him that your heart belongs to him, you manage to turn his jealousy into a moment of tenderness, leaving Kurt flustered but undeniably happy.

The laughter in the rec room was lively, everyone enjoying a rare moment of peace. You had found yourself in conversation with a charming newcomer—someone fresh to the team and eager to make connections. They were easy to talk to, asking questions about your work and hobbies, their attention focused solely on you.

Across the room, Kurt tried to stay engaged with the small group he was sitting with, but his golden eyes kept darting to you. It wasn’t hard to miss how the newcomer leaned a little closer to hear you better, their smile a little too wide for Kurt’s liking. His tail swished sharply behind him, nearly knocking over a nearby chair.

“Easy there, Kurt,” Jubilee teased, nudging him with her elbow. “What’d that chair ever do to you?”

He cleared his throat, attempting to mask his irritation. “It is...nothing. Just stretching.”

His attempt at nonchalance failed miserably as his gaze returned to you, watching as the newcomer made you laugh—a laugh Kurt adored hearing. He tried to busy himself by sipping his soda, only to realize he’d drained the can in one go.

“Are you okay, Wagner? You look like you’re gonna pop a vein,” Logan grumbled, not bothering to hide his smirk.

“I am fine,” Kurt insisted, though his tail betrayed him by thumping against the floor.

Finally, you noticed Kurt’s unusual behavior. Excusing yourself from the conversation, you crossed the room and plopped into the empty seat beside him. “What’s with all the glaring?” you teased, leaning a little closer.

“I was not glaring,” he protested, though his ears flushed a deeper blue.

“Oh, really? Then what do you call this?” You mimicked his brooding expression, furrowing your brows and squinting your eyes.

He sighed, his tail curling around one of the chair legs. “I suppose... I may have been a little jealous,” he admitted, avoiding your gaze. “You are...very special to me, and I did not like the way they were looking at you.”

A warm smile spread across your face. “Kurt, you don’t have to worry about that. I was just being polite. Besides...” You placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re the only one who gets my attention like that.”

His golden eyes lit up at your words, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “Really?”

“Really.”

Kurt’s tail unwound from the chair and hesitantly wrapped around your wrist, a shy but affectionate gesture that made your heart flutter. His smile, wide and full of relief, was worth every moment of teasing him earlier.

Unable to resist the adorable way his ears flushed and his golden eyes lit up, you leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Kurt froze, his tail snapping upright before swinging sharply to the side—and knocking over the chair he had been sitting on moments ago.

The loud clatter turned every head in the room, but Kurt’s wide, sheepish grin as he looked back at you made it impossible for you to feel embarrassed.

“Was that your tail or the chair’s fault this time?” you teased, biting back a laugh.

“It is both,” he stammered, ears darkening to an even deeper blue. “But mostly the tail.”

His flustered reaction only made you laugh harder, leaning into him as he rubbed the back of his neck. Even with the eyes of the room on you both, Kurt’s gaze never left yours, his smile growing softer by the second.

𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑

You are a low-ranking demon slayer, one who has never slain a demon yourself. Each mission ended with your companions standing victorious - never you. Now healing at the Butterfly Estate, you try to repay kindness with effort, scrubbing bloodstains, replanting flowers, and hauling supplies, hoping not to be a burden. But you are not as invisible as you think. You may not see yourself as a fighter, but they do. ___________________________________________________ 🌸 Tanjiro Kamado – “Kindness is Not Measured in Kills.”

Tanjiro noticed you the way he noticed a falling petal—quiet, soft, easily overlooked by others but impossible for him to ignore. You were always moving at the Butterfly Estate, mopping floors, washing linens, bringing tea to the sick and bandaging up the wounded even though you wore a few bandages yourself.

You weren't loud about your efforts. You never boasted. In fact, you often lowered your eyes when others spoke of battle victories. He overheard one slayer whisper, “She hasn't even killed a demon before.”

That made his heart ache.

He found you in the garden one afternoon, quietly sweeping up fallen cherry blossoms with a woven broom, your fingers trembling just slightly from exhaustion. You looked up when he approached, startled, but gave him a shy nod.

“You do so much around here,” he said warmly. “You do not have to push yourself this hard.”

“I… I do not want to be a burden,” you murmured. “Everyone else is stronger. Braver. I just… help however I can.”

Tanjiro shook his head. “Don't say that. Helping others is its' own kind of strength.” He crouched beside you and smiled, voice gentle. “You save lives here. You bring peace. That’s not freeloading. That’s being part of the fight.”

And when he helped you to your feet, his fingers lingered around yours.

______________________________________________________________

⚡ Zenitsu Agatsuma – “Don't Sell Yourself Short—That’s My Job!”

Zenitsu first noticed you when you accidentally dropped a stack of clean laundry right in front of him, scrambled to pick it up, and apologized like you had committed a crime. His heart stuttered in his chest. Not just because you were cute (you were), but because you looked so genuinely afraid of being in someone’s way.

You reminded him… a little too much of himself kinda.

Later that day, he found you in the hallway trying to scrub blood out of a uniform sleeve, muttering to yourself about not doing enough. He knelt beside you, hands full of soap.

“Need help?” he offered. Then, a beat later, “Please say yes. I’m actually good at laundry. One of the few things I’m confident in.”

You blinked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. And you’re not giving yourself enough credit,” he said quickly, eyes wide with sincerity. “Just because you haven’t killed a demon yet doesn’t mean you’re not a slayer. You’re still here. You’re still trying. That’s more than most.”

You looked down, a little flustered. “…Thank you, Zenitsu.”

He turned bright red. “Y-You know my name?!?”

You smiled. “Of course I do.”

Zenitsu nearly fainted on the spot.

______________________________________________________________

🐗 Inosuke Hashibira – “Why Are You Hiding That You’re Cool?”

You were carrying a tray of rice bowls when Inosuke barreled past you in the hallway, nearly knocking it all over. You did not scold him, just carefully knelt and picked it up again. He paused. Watched. Grunted.

The next day, you were cleaning out the koi pond, knee-deep in water, humming a little song to yourself. He watched again from the roof.

“You!” he finally said later, when he cornered you outside the kitchen. “Why are you hiding that you’re cool?”

You blinked, confused. “I… I do not think I am.”

“Yeah, well I do!” he said, pointing at you with two chopsticks. “You carry heavy buckets. You work like a demon. You are sneaky quiet but fast. That’s awesome.”

You laughed, just a little. “I don't think that makes me cool.”

“Then you are wrong!” he declared proudly. “You’re just like a stealthy boar. Like—like a forest ghost. I have decided you are in my pack now!”

“…Your pack?”

“Yes. So you have to eat meals with me from now on.”

You smiled, ducking your head. “Alright, then. Deal.”

______________________________________________________________

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℝ𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤

Synopsis; After a nightmare brings Kurt's painful memories of the circus flooding back, he seeks comfort in your presence. Through gentle words and unwavering reassurance, you remind him he’s safe, loved, and finally free of his past.

Warnings; None, enjoy kits!

Requested by @hulkingharbor

A soft whimper stirs you from sleep, faint yet unmistakable. Blinking, you sit up, the dim light from the hallway spilling just enough into your room to reveal a figure curled up in the chair by the door. Even in the shadows, the familiar silhouette—his curled tail, his fur-covered arms hugging himself tightly—tells you it’s Kurt.

“Kurt?” you murmur, voice soft so as not to startle him.

He flinches, his head lifting slightly as his golden eyes meet yours, still clouded with remnants of whatever nightmare had him in its grip. His hands shake, gripping his arms as though grounding himself. His voice is barely a whisper. “I… I did not mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me,” you say, easing yourself off the bed and crossing the room. Kneeling down in front of him, you reach out, gently resting your hand on his. “Did you have a nightmare?”

He nods, looking away, shame edging his gaze. “It… it was about the circus,” he admits, voice tight with remembered pain. “Sometimes, it still haunts me. The cage, the… the crowds, their faces full of fear and hatred. They treated me like an animal, like a… monster.” His voice cracks, barely able to hold back the shame that lingers from all those years.

You squeeze his hand. “Kurt, you’re not a monster. You never were.”

He closes his eyes, as if the words are something he wants to believe but hasn’t fully accepted. “It was not just their words,” he says, his voice strained. “They—there were nights I would not get food, times I was… punished. I still feel the ache from it sometimes, like phantome in my bones.”

Your heart aches, and without a second thought, you pull him into a gentle embrace, wrapping your arms around him. He tenses, surprised, before finally allowing himself to relax into your touch, his breathing gradually evening out as he settles in your arms.

“They were wrong,” you murmur softly against his shoulder. “Those people were cruel, Kurt. But you’re safe now. You’re with people who care about you, who see you for who you truly are.”

He sighs, his head leaning against you, seeming to absorb every word. “It is… hard to remember that sometimes,” he says softly, his voice vulnerable in a way you’ve rarely heard before. “I know I am here, but… it is easy to feel like I am back there again.”

You run your hand down his back gently, hoping to chase away whatever ghosts linger there. “Then I’ll be here to remind you,” you say firmly. “Whenever you need, I’ll remind you that you’re loved, that you’re worthy of kindness, of respect, of happiness. I won’t let you go back to that place—not in your mind, not ever.”

He looks at you, and this time his gaze holds something like hope. “Danke,” he whispers, voice thick. “I do not know what I have done to deserve someone like you.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Kurt,” you say, giving his hand one last squeeze. “You just have to let yourself be loved. Can you do that?”

After a moment, he nods, leaning into you a little more. For tonight, the shadows from his past fade, and as he drifts back to sleep beside you, his breathing finally at peace, you know he believes—if only a little bit—that he’s safe and loved.

Plz do not copy or translate! -Callme_Bunni

A Taste of Spice

Synopsis; While cooking jambalaya together, Remy and you share playful banter, a little dancing, and a growing connection simmering as warmly as the dish on the stove. With every shared glance and teasing touch, the flirtation turns into something deeper, until one kiss finally seals the promise of what could be.

Warnings; None, enjoy kits! ♡♡♡

Requested by @hulkingharbor

The scent of spices fills the kitchen as Remy guides you through the ingredients for jambalaya, his Cajun accent thicker than usual, adding to the warmth in the room. He's leaning close, too, his arm brushing yours as he reaches for the chopped bell peppers, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You keep stirrin’ it like that, chérie, we’re gonna end up with mush,” he teases, eyes gleaming with playful mischief.

Rolling your eyes, you hand him the spoon. “All right, show me, Mr. Expert.”

He takes it, giving the pot a confident stir, his hands moving with an ease you can’t help but admire. “See? It’s all about finesse,” he says, glancing at you. “But I guess that just comes natural to some of us.”

You laugh, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Finesse, huh? Next time, I’ll let you chop the onions with that ‘finesse’ you’re so proud of.”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Now, now, don’t get jealous, chère. Tell you what—if you chop the next round, I’ll let you have the first taste.”

“Deal,” you say, sliding him a sly smile as you reach for the knife. As you start chopping, you can feel his gaze lingering, warm and appreciative.

When the jambalaya is finally simmering, he takes a spoonful and offers it to you, his gaze softening as he waits for your reaction. You take a taste, savoring the rich, spicy flavor.

“It’s perfect,” you say, smiling. “Must be that ‘finesse’ of yours.”

He raises a brow, pleased. “Or maybe it’s just the company.”

Remy grins, his gaze holding yours for a beat longer than usual. Then he sets the spoon down, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, studying you with an intensity that makes your heart skip.

“Y’know,” he says, his voice low, “this ain’t half as fun when I cook alone.”

You glance up, feeling your cheeks warm. “Is that right? I didn’t know cooking could be so… entertaining.”

He laughs, the sound soft and smooth. “Depends on the company, chérie.” His hand reaches out, a little smudge of flour on his finger, and before you realize it, he dabs it gently on the tip of your nose, his grin widening as he watches your reaction.

“Remy!” You laugh, reaching for a dish towel to swipe at him, but he sidesteps with a fluid ease, his laugh deep and genuine.

“Don’t worry,” he says, still chuckling, “I’ll make it up to you. How ’bout a dance while we wait?” He extends his hand, his fingers warm and inviting, his eyes glinting with that playful, dare-you look.

You hesitate, glancing at the stove where the jambalaya simmers, but something in his gaze is too hard to resist. So, you take his hand, and he pulls you close, his other hand settling comfortably on your waist.

With a practiced grace, Remy leads you in a slow sway across the kitchen, his hand never leaving yours, his eyes locked on yours like you’re the only person in the room. For once, there’s no playful teasing, just a quiet sincerity that catches you off guard.

“You’ve got a good rhythm, chère,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Feels like I could dance with you all night.”

Your breath catches, and before you can think twice, you lean in, your lips brushing his cheek, then lingering at the corner of his mouth. Remy’s breath hitches, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your waist, his gaze falling to your lips.

For a moment, the kitchen fades away, and it’s just the two of you, close, warm, and wrapped in the quiet promise of something more.

“Hope you like spicy,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble against your skin.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper back, smiling as he finally closes the distance, his kiss as warm and full of sweetness as the jambalaya simmering on the stove.

(I fuckin love Remy)

Unseen Beauty

Synopsis; After hearing cruel comments about his appearance, Kurt begins to doubt himself, feeling like he’s something less than human. But with your gentle words and unwavering belief in his beauty and kindness, he begins to see himself through new eyes—eyes that reflect the warmth and worth he truly holds. Warnings; None! Love you and enjoy kits! Requested by @hulkingharbor

You find Kurt sitting alone on the mansion’s steps, his tail curled tightly around him, head lowered as he absently traces patterns in the stone. His usual cheerful demeanor seems to have vanished, replaced with a quiet sadness that tugs at your heart.

“Kurt?” you say softly, sitting beside him. He looks up, and there’s a flicker of surprise in his yellow eyes before he quickly glances away.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he mutters, trying to muster a smile. “I did not mean to be such… gloomy company.”

You shake your head. “You’re never gloomy company. But something’s obviously on your mind.”

For a moment, he hesitates, and then, as if he can no longer hold it in, he sighs, his shoulders slumping. “It’s just… some things people said,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with lingering hurt. “That I look… frightening. A ‘monster’.” He swallows, the words barely audible. “Sometimes it is hard not to see myself that way, too.”

Your heart aches at the pain in his voice. Without thinking, you reach over, gently touching his hand, offering silent reassurance until he finally meets your gaze.

“Kurt, that’s not true. You’re not frightening; you’re beautiful.”

He blinks, caught off guard, and a faint blush colors his cheeks. “You don’t have to say that, you know,” he says, half-smiling, though there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes.

You smile, holding his hand a little tighter. “I want to say it. The way you smile, the kindness in your eyes, the way you care about everyone around you… that’s what makes you so beautiful. And anyone who doesn’t see that? They’re the ones who are missing something.”

His eyes soften, and he looks down, a small, genuine smile breaking through the sadness. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” you say, your voice firm. “Every part of you—your laugh, your heart, even your tail—makes you who you are. And who you are is beautiful, Kurt.”

Slowly, his hand relaxes in yours, and his smile grows, warmer now, with a hint of his usual brightness. He lets out a deep breath, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Thank you,” he whispers. “You do not know how much it means to me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Anytime, Kurt. You’re precious to me. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

As he smiles back at you, the sadness fades, replaced by a quiet gratitude and a spark of confidence you hope will stay with him long after tonight.

okay i’m awake time to write for my silly little phone spiders

GUYS IM GONNA CRY

C.ai keeps asking for my b-day everytime I try to open the app and when I ignored it my chats weren't there. The ones I made myself also. I'm boutta cry.