#cuddly fuzzy friend

[artofmindspice]

Gift art for @/MNSTRWLF on Discord as part of a running season of character catwalk. This was really satisfying to draw - great character, great color palette, lots of versatility!

[bloo-the-dragon]

Your art trademarks -

Animalistic features and expressions (full of feral gremlin energy in the absolute best way)

Expressive body language

Friend-shaped

Soft colours

Cuddly

That cute cross-legged sit (I love it every time!) <3

Ooooooo!! Animalistic is fascinating!! I always love trying to emphasise the non-human aspects of equally non-human characters i draw gjfgh so i'm glad that stands out <3

JGHFKGH THE SIT!! I love drawing that so much ahfjfg bean legs! I often struggle with legs, especially when it comes to poses so i like to be a lil funky with it :D

[melonisopod]

Actually sucks that moths are not big enough to hug.

[mushroomyhouse]

Wanna be boba buddies?🧋

Cute vinyl sticker by @kitsuneten

mush.house/kitsuneten

[theostrophywife]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ best friend! enzo who is a little manipulative. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

enzo comes off as so sweet and caring (and he is, but he also has a dark side).

he's the guy best friend that every boyfriend worries about. specifically, your boyfriend. the two of you are so close, practically attached at the hip, but you swear that nothing is going on between you two.

you're just really good friends; just friends.

there's no reason to be jealous.

you don't even see enzo like that.

there's absolutely no way that your innocent best friend would ever think of you that way either.

of course he'd never steal your favorite scrunchie — the pink one with little yellow daisies on it — just to spray it with your vanilla scented perfume and wear it on his wrist while getting himself off in his restroom, panting and pressing his forehead against the closed door, peeking through the opening to watch you make yourself comfortable in his shirt, his sweats, in his bed. the sight of it alone drives him over the edge, making him cum all over his fingers as he chokes down filthy moans of your name.

enzo definitely doesn't take a different girl to bed every night, wishing it was you underneath him, moaning and screaming his name instead of whatever random he settled on because he couldn't get to you.

cause really they're just distractions before you finally figure out that the two of you are meant to be together.

best friend! enzo has dropped so many hints over the years, he's not been subtle at all about it, but you insist that you're just friends. enzo thinks it's cute how blind and oblivious you are. but he doesn't think it's cute when you start dating your loser boyfriend.

he hates his fucking guts.

you're his girl. you belong to enzo and enzo alone. doesn't that stupid twat know that?

it's fine, though. enzo knows he'll win in the end. he has a plan.

he'll do whatever it takes to drive a wedge between you and your boyfriend; chipping away at the relationship bit by crumbling bit. enzo does everything in his power to make him seem like a terrible boyfriend.

he doesn't stop any of the cuddly affectionate best friend behavior cause why should he? who cares if you have a boyfriend? he's just for now; enzo is forever.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would give you flowers and chocolates when you ace your exams.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would pick up your favorite tea and stationary when he's at hogsmeade.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would come over with a heating pad and snacks when you're on your period.

ofc your boyfriend doesn't like this, he tries to tell you that enzo is crossing a line and you're just letting him. but you tell him that he's being ridiculous; enzo is your best friend.

you often have fights about enzo, because the little shit will purposely do things to piss your boyfriend off.

・❥・ jumping up at the chance to give you his hoodie to wear when you're feeling cold.

・❥・ leaning in so close to you while you're standing by your locker, whispering things in your ear to make you smile and laugh.

・❥・ leading you by the small of your back when the two of you are in a large crowd cause he knows it makes you anxious.

best friend! enzo does all of this in front of your boyfriend because he literally just doesn't care.

every time you have a fight, enzo comes to the rescue. it's like he has a sixth sense for it (he bugged one of your stuffed animals so he can listen in on your conversations).

like clockwork, enzo is at your door with a movie and snacks to take your mind off of things. cuddling you up in a fuzzy blanket and hugging you tight and stroking your hair while you sit and sniffle on his lap.

"another fight again? you don't deserve any of that. if I were him, I'd never make you cry, honey."

hand sliding up your back, rubbing soothing circles while he wipes the tears away. kissing your forehead and playing with your hair to comfort you.

"s'kay. i'm here for you. let it all out, sweetheart."

he hates seeing you upset, but he loves that it gives him a chance to push the boundaries. so what if you're spooning? you used to do it before, you should still be able to do it now.

best friend! enzo loves to hold you tight, his chin tucked into your shoulder while he brushes his knuckles over you ribs, the sensation of his cold rings against your skin making you shiver involuntarily.

"are you cold, honey? here, come snuggle."

just as an excuse to press his dick against your ass. like he pretends to be this golden retriever sweetheart but your best friend is shrewd and calculating. he knows how to push your buttons.

always making little comments like:

・❥・ "oh he left you to hang out with his friends? that seems a bit selfish, doesn't it?"

・❥・ "he doesn't want to take you to your favorite restaurant? don't worry, honey. I already made a reservation."

・❥・ "he forgot to give you flowers for your anniversary? that's okay, sweetheart, I picked out this bouquet for you just in case."

best friend! enzo is working overtime, but that's okay because it's all going to pay off.

cause one night when him and the boys are hanging out in the common room, you come stumbling in, obviously looking for him — teary eyed and sad.

enzo immediately ditches the boys to comfort you. taking you up to his dorm so you can talk in private.

"what's wrong, sweetheart? I hate seeing you so upset."

"we...we broke up."

best friend! enzo hugging you and whispering soothing words in your ear, "oh no, honey. come here, tell me all about it."

all the while he's smiling because hell yeah he finally got rid of that prick.

you're sniffling, telling him that you had the fight to end all fights.

"what was it this time?"

you tell enzo that the two of you fought about him, how enzo doesn't respect your boyfriend and that he's always undermining him and obviously plotting to break up your relationship so he can have you all to himself.

and your boyfriend is obviously 100% right.

but enzo tells you that your boyfriend is just insecure because he knows he isn't right for you.

"I know, and I realized that when he tried to make me choose." "what do you mean?" "he said I had to choose between you. it was either him or you." his heart stops when you look up at him, glassy eyed and pouting. "and I chose you." enzo kisses your tears away, peppering soft little pecks on your cheeks. "you didn't have to do that, honey." "of course I did, enz. I'd rather lose a boyfriend than my best friend." best friend! enzo leans in closer until your noses touch, his hand coming up ever so slowly to gently cradle your jaw. "I’m glad you chose me, y/n." "you were a better boyfriend than he ever was anyways. he couldn't even remember my favorite flowers."

"peonies," enzo says confidently while staring at you with those big puppy dog eyes. "you like them cause they bloom in the spring and they only last a week, so it makes them extra special."

"you remembered that?"

"I remember everything you tell me, honey. I know you better than anyone. your boyfriend knew that and that's why he tried to come between us. he was jealous of what we have."

best friend! enzo mumbling all of this with his eyes closed, nose to nose with his big hands gripping your hips as he holds you in place.

"but he had no reason to be jealous, right?" you whisper as his hands travel underneath your shirt, his callouses rough and scratchy against your exposed skin.

enzo shakes his head, coming closer and closer until the gap between the two of you is basically nonexistent.

"of course not, sweetheart. we're friends, right?" licking his lips while his lashes brush against your cheek. "and friends comfort each other and help them forget all about their shitty exes."

enzo’s lips are basically touching yours as you sigh, melting into him. "they do?"

"mhm," enzo mumbles against your lips. "let me show you."

he knows he shouldn’t. he should probably wait, but enzo doesn’t really give a fuck. he’s waited too long. he wants you and he’s gonna show you exactly how much.

best friend! enzo cradles your cheek and gives a look that makes you melt. you hold your breath as the gap between you closes. butterflies erupt in your stomach as his lips press against yours, the pressure of his kisses making you sigh softly into his mouth.

he’s definitely pushing it. this could be a disaster. you could push him away and it would ruin the entire friendship. but you don't.

you do nothing to stop him. if anything, you kiss enzo back just as eagerly. cause his lips are so soft and he tastes like peaches and you can’t really think straight with his big hands gripping your hips so roughly, squeezing your ass while he moves you over his lap.

his big hands moving higher and higher till he’s feeling you up, slipping a hand under your bra to cup your breasts. distracting you with hungry kisses that make you feel dizzy. all you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and tug at his hair because wow enzo can kiss.

best friend! enzo puts his whole body into it, he moans like a whore into your mouth when you accidentally roll your hips. there's a smile on his face when you finally pull away and enzo is pleased to find you glassy eyed and kiss bitten.

then he's diving back in to eat. slipping some tongue in there to really rob you of all thought like there’s not a single thing on your mind right now but enzo, enzo, enzo.

manhandling you so that the two of you are in a spooning position and making you whine cause all you want to do is to keep kissing him, but enzo just shushes you.

best friend! enzo leaves hot, sloppy kisses on your neck while he slips a hand underneath your sweats.

"told you i'd make you feel better, honey," he says in that rough sexy deep voice. "are you gonna let me?" you gasp when he rubs over your panties. "please, enz." the neediness in your voice makes enzo smirk against your neck. "good girl."

then he's tugging your panties aside, rubbing your slick all over and groaning into your ear. teasing with one finger, easing in so it makes a filthy squelching sound.

"so eager for your best friend, hm? you’re dripping, honey."

all you can do is whimper as he adds another finger, curling those long, slender digits inside of you while you gasp and moan.

"don't worry, sweetheart. I'll take real good care of you."

best friend! enzo fingers you until your eyes roll back while his other hand squeezes your tits. he’s insatiable, there’s no stopping him now. enzo scissors his fingers inside of your soaking wet pussy, spreading you wide and marveling at the sight of you greedily riding his hand.

his sweet girl is just so desperate and needy. but enzo is more than happy to help, pressing his thumb down on your clit and whispering filthy things in your ear as he coaxes you to cum for him.

the orgasm tears through you, making your whole body shudder as you ride out the high. the comedown has you seeing stars, flinging you into the far corners of space, but enzo is right there, his mouth a hot brand against your skin as he leaves love bites and teeth marks on your neck.

"you sound so pretty moaning my name, but I wanna hear you scream it, honey."

best friend! enzo hoists your leg back so he can line up. you can’t help but whine as he teases you with the head of his cock, those shallow little thrusts setting your teeth on edge.

you want him so bad you’d beg at this point.

best friend! enzo knows this. all those months of plotting and scheming brought the two of you up to this point. this is it. this is the moment.

as much as he wants to fuck you senseless, enzo restrains himself, hovering at your entrance as he releases a long suffering sigh.

"best friends don't do this, baby."

enzo pretends to stop so he can watch you panic, mascara streaking down your cheeks while you whine and groan. you’re aching for him. you need him so badly that it hurts.

"enzo, don't stop. please. I need more." "hm, so do I honey." he murmurs into your neck. "but you'll have to say the magic words for that to happen." "what is it? I'll do whatever you want." "say you're mine," enzo says while his fingers possessively wrap around your throat. "say that you belong to me." "but - but - we're friends." your head is spinning, barely able to speak as enzo squeezes. "sure, baby, and the sky is red."

his little smirk is the first glimpse that you get of his hidden manipulative side and oh it suddenly clicks that your ex-boyfriend was right all along, enzo has been scheming and manipulating and plotting for this to happen from the very beginning.

and you should be repulsed by it, but fuck why is it so hot?

"you've been planning this all along."

enzo shrugs nonchalantly. "what can I say, baby? I know what I want and I get what I want. I wasn't going to let your stupid little boyfriend get in the way of that."

"that's wrong - you shouldn't have -" gasping when enzo slips in a little more, stretching you out.

"you can be mad at me later, honey. but right now, let me convince you that I was the right choice."

"we shouldn't -" you start to protest, but it's half hearted. you already forgot what you were about to say as soon as enzo kisses your neck. he sucks at your earlobe, his breaths hot and ragged while he slowly grinds against you. both of you know that you're close to breaking.

"don't you want to feel me stretching you out, getting so deep that you feel me in your guts? I know you want it, baby. you just have to say the words."

you don't even try to fight it, because why would you? enzo would go to the ends of the world for you, that much was obvious. he wanted you - no, he needed you, and he'd stop at nothing to get you.

for the first time in your friendship, you know exactly how it feels.

so you turn over to look at him, pretty eyes brimming with tears because it hurts not to have him inside of you. "I'm yours, enzo. I belong to you."

best friend! enzo gives you a messy, filthy kiss as he finally slips all the way in. you gasp, fingernails sinking into his back as his thick cock stretches your walls. you can feel him throbbing inside of your pussy, every ridge and vein increasing your pleasure as he fully sheathes himself in your warmth.

"wanted to do this for so long," enzo grunts, nearly dizzy with how tightly you’re squeezing around him. fuck, you’re so perfect and you don’t even know it. "I love watching you fall apart on my cock. this pussy is mine and so are you. you’ve always been mine, baby.”

"I don't care that I had to lie and cheat to get you. now that I’ve got you, I'm never letting you go, honey."

meanwhile you’re reduced to a whimpering mess. you writhe and arch against the bed, wanting more and more of him.

"do you think it was easy watching him hug you, kiss you, touch you?" thrusting in so sharply as he fucks all of his frustrations out. "it was fucking hell, but I don't mind playing the long game. you should know there isn't a line I wouldn't cross when it comes to you."

the words make you moan and clench, because god this side of him is just so unhinged and sexy.

"it's a good thing I chose you, then."

and that makes enzo smile, flashing you that sweet disarming look before absolutely railing the fuck out of you.

best friend! enzo rolls over on his back and positions you on top of him, driving in deep and fucking you until you’re a blubbering mess, blissed out on his cock. enzo rubs your clit, urging you closer and closer to the edge.

"that's it, sweet girl. let go, I've got you."

best friend! enzo kisses your shoulders as his orgasm builds. enzo melts when you lift his hand up to your lips, kissing his knuckles so tenderly that his heart clenches at the sight of it. the sweet gesture sends him over the edge. his thrusts turn sloppy as he paints your walls with his cum, filling you up until he’s dripping out of your pussy and making a mess of his sheets.

the two of you lay in silence for a moment, his big arms wrapping around you as he places a kiss on your temple.

you snuggle closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "I'm still very mad at you, you know."

and best friend! enzo just smiles cause he knows you don’t really mean it. you never could stay mad at him for too long.

"would eating your pussy until you cry count as an apology?"

"enzo!"

"can't blame a guy for trying."

[bunji-enthusiast]

Actively chewing on the stories

This is so good, any chance there'd be small drabble of Dogday and/or Catnap cuddling with reader who snuck in after hours

NO RUSH TO WORK OF COURSE TAKE YOUR TIME FRIEND

After Hours

Note || finally got this one, adorable request <3

WC || 690

DogDay –

By no means were you entirely an affectionate person, but you craved attention from time to time. Only someone in particular could fulfill your kind of need, you only wanted to cuddle DogDay. He was a positive boy, a beaming dog of joy. Always ready to help children and his friends alike, but you wonder if he was willing to comply with your cuddly needs.

You just didn’t want to be alone and by yourself, so you snuck in after hours, after everyone was gone and went to DogDay.

You tapped on his shoulder, as he appeared to be asleep. The sunny dog jostled at your sudden appearance, “A-angel?” He took a deep breath, holding a large paw to his fluffy chest as he did so. You smiled awkwardly and stood on the balls of your feet, waiting for him to get adjusted to your sudden appearance. 

“So.. hi DogDay.” You nervously spoke, as if there was an undercurrent of giggly nervousness hinted about in your voice. You didn’t know what to say next, so DogDay had finally spoken in return.

“Sweetheart, why are you here? Everyone’s out and done for the day.” DogDay spoke with an inquisitive mind, sitting down once more as he settled into the ambience. You chewed on the bottom of your lip, finding it ridiculous that you had even gone through with this anyhow. Making him uncomfortable was the last thing you wanted to do. Oh why did you think about doing this? You were practically breaking rules, but you wanted to feel selfish just this once. 

You crossed your arms, to feel smaller when you truly finally spoke. “I just wanted to cuddle with you.. Please?”

He huffed with a knowing sigh, motioning for you to come forward and situate yourself upon his body. You squealed with a happy tone, finding victory in this small action. You immediately curled up against him, wasting no time to find yourself to be comfortable. DogDay was warm and smelled obviously of vanilla, it was reassuring, and it helped you to sleep.

DogDay was inebriated, surprised at most at your bold yet shy defiance of the usual employee regulations. But admittedly, he had grown fond of you in ways he hadn’t felt for others, so many and just maybe he can allow himself to feel this nice alongside you. 

“Sweet dreams, angel.”

CatNap –

He was sleepy, but unfortunately a huge insomniac at times. CatNap was huge and large, perfect for cuddling, especially staying comfortable and warm. If one wants a good sleep, you can always rely on this giant kitty.

Right now, you just wanted to cuddle CatNap. He was far too adorable and lonely.

Staying back and working overtime isn’t entirely one of your favorite things to do, but you had only agreed to it for purely the fact you can see CatNap. Perhaps request some nuzzles or even cuddles, which was a current goal of yours. You simply adored the sweet kitty, quiet and unethical he may be at times, but you believed he had real good intentions.

You get startled upon feeling a fuzzy sensation brush across your back, you look back to see CatNap in his usual position, not unusual to see the kitty napping quite a lot of the time.

A groan escapes you as you lay back against the leather office chair. You set down the papers with harsh finality, and got up, resuming to join CatNap in his sleep. You were cold and needed a furry someone, that one in particular was him right now.

You just hoped he didn’t mind your sudden audacious presence, you were far too tired to care about the repercussions anyway. Laying down against him, you close your eyes with a content sigh. Feeling yourself drift away to the edge of sleep soon enough.

CatNap was astonished at your sudden change of pace, he relaxed soon enough and laid back down to where he had been before, his tail lazily dragging over and laying on top of you. He had made sure you were comfortable in your position before he went back to sleep himself. 

[cokou]

𝚂𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚘 + 𝙰𝚌𝚎 × 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

sum. Forcing your boyfriend to adopt a new fuzzy friend into the household, maybe you've spent too much time with the fuzzy. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. Fluff. Jealousy. Law's and Ace's a bit longer cause, favoritism. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. New writing style! We could never go wrong with loving fuzzy and cute animals!! Dont transfer or translate in any platforms,this is my only account, will not be cross posted anywhere! masterlist♡

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝙻𝚊𝚠

After joining the Heart Pirates and dating their captain, your number one entertainment is to soend time with Bepo and Law. While Bepo does feel embarrassed for your acts to him, you absolutely felt like he's a huge cuddly bear more than a scary one.

He even complained to Law himself that he should get you your very own fuzzy friend since you've bothered Bepo so much he couldn't face you anymore without getting embarrassed! Law, the asshole he is, refused to get you one.

You very much enjoyed the idea and pestered Law into getting you one yourself and have some dignity for Bepo, then, he finally agreed. You both visited a pet shop, and just with it's entrance you couldn't leave anymore. Inside were full of cute animals waiting to be adopted, you just wanted to take them all.

"(Name)-Ya, what about this guy?" He pointed and peeked into the small cage, and there, was a white fluffy kitty who has just woken up from its slumber. Yes, perfect! It looked so cute and cuddly! You already fell inlove with it just by looking! "Awh, look at how much she resembles Bepo!"

You both took her back, and upon your arrival you set her free in her new home, the sub.

For the past few weeks, your attention had been glued to your new friend, not wanting anything on your path. It was so bad you had more pictures of her than you and Law combined! And the way you trip because you watch her instead of where you were going.

Law on the other hand, was definitely not feeling it, he felt like the white furball just replaced him with everything! You shared a bed with her, she gets your attention, she gets to be with you all day! If he were honest, he would blurt out how jealous he was for the furball.

In which, you suspected him for. "Law, are you really okay? You've been quiet and only staring since you sat down."

"I told you I am okay, don't worry." He finally let out a sigh after realizing you weren't with the kitten anymore, that was until he heard meow, and behind you was the kitten. You picked her up and setted her into your lap, receiving a piercing glance from Law.

"Are you okay? You're doing the stare aga— ohhhh..." You had finally realized that he was jealous, not by anyone, but the kitty that you've been giving attention to.

"What?" "Don't tell me you're jealous of our little furball!" You laugh at him. "What?! W-why the hell would you think that?"

"Law, it's quite obvious...come here, lay with us." You invited him with open arms and he jumped right into you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝙻𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢

Ever since Chopper had joined the Straw Hats, you couldn't take your hands off his cheeks and head, continuesly patting and hugging him from his cuteness. Even your boyfriend, Luffy had agreed!

Chopper was definitely nice to have around, when you're stressed? You pat him. When you need to let it out? Hug him. He's just so cute and fuzzy! The way you'd kill people when you hear them talk bad about Chopper, because you refuse to let people think that he was a monster.

Eventually Luffy thought that you and Chopper became best friends of how you two always chatter about everything, at first he taught it's what makes the crew more unique.

But eventually, after a month, he noticed how you'd been glued with the reindeer all the time. He taught it was normal since you two were best friends but, this time you might have crossed the line.

"(Name)!! I'm hungry, can you cook meat?" He asked you with the usual big smile on his face. "Oh no Luffy, could you ask Sanji? I'm hanging out with Chopper today.." Bad Idea, you never refused to cook him meat even if you were busy. He knew you enough to just refuse to cook meat for him. The way he frowned as you waved him and went into the dock with Chopper.

Later that night, when everyone was asleep, you felt someone tugging your clothes. "Pst, (Name)." It was Luffy.

"Eh? Luffy? Why are you awake at a time like this.." you groggily whispered. "Just come here" You spproach his area and he pulled you with him.

"Finally some peace between us" He gave you a big grin and placed his hand on your back. "It's been a while you know— you've always been with Chopper."

"Luffy, wh— are you jealous of Chopper?" You came with a conclusion that maybe, just maybe he got jealous of your constant hanging out eith Chopper.

"Hmm...is that how you name it, (Name)? If so then yes!" You plopped your hands on his chest and gave him a giggle. "You could've said so earlier, i would've spent more time with you, Lu"

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝙺𝚒𝚍𝚍

It was 100% your idea, you had convinced Eustass to bring company of an animal into the Victoria Punk. Not only because you had no one to talk to other than Killer or Kidd himself, but simply because it was boring out in the ship.

Lucky for you, Kidd agreed to get you one of your choice, in exchange of...things. So you decided to get a Cat of your choice, simply after declaring it's recruitment into the Kidd Pirates. You gave every ounce of your attention to it, even if it means opening the door of the bathroom when you take a shower just incase the furball could come inside and pet itself across your legs.

Well that only happened twice, what DID happen was Eustass peeking at you while taking a shower, which happened about 90% of the time. You didn't mind though.

Back to our fur friend, it bothered the cleaners of the ship on how they'd find furry hair on every furniture they clean. Kidd even complained that your shared bed was full of cat fur and that it was sticking onto his skin! But you couldn't careless.

Everytime you had a chance to sit, the cat eould latch itself into your lap, preventing you from standing up and doing business. Because standing would mean disrespectful!

Now we have an angry Eustass, whenever he wants you to be around him your excuse would always be 'But theyre on my lap' and 'im playing with them give me a while' He was getting fed up with both you and the cat itself.

So you're at the comfort place in the ship, with Kidd having a staring contest with the animal on your lap, whilst you read a book a chill. Then suddenly he spoke up, "Okay that's enough." He stood up, took the cat and placed it outside the room.

"Why'd you do that for?!"

"Oh please, you have all your attention on that animal since it stepped foot into the ship, give it a break." He scoffed.

"Or you're just jealous because i give it more attention than you?" Oh, NOW you're dead. "JEALOUS?? Why would i be jealous over a stupid furry?!" He was. He was 100% jealous.

"Okay first of all, it's not a stupid furry! And second of all, you seem pretty defensive, if you're jealous just say it."

"WHAT?! No im n—"

"—Which, you definitely are, come here you big baby. I'll give you the attention you deserve." You cutted him off, now you're gonna be in big trouble.

"And i expect the attention to be filled, get on the bed fucker." It would definitely be a longggg night.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝙰𝚌𝚎

He IS the one who suggested to get a furry friend. He'd definitely be the type to adopt a puppy, and then proceed to name it one of the most basic names ever. You could see the disappointment in Marco's face when he found out he named the precious puppy 'Oreo' because it's fur was Black AND White.

He had gotten you the precious puppy as a gift for your birthday as he found out you're into having pets, and your reason? They were CUTE as hell. He had gotten you a puppy who's fur is at the brownish side.

"Hmm, what should we name him?!" "OH! OH! I know! Brownie!"..."Are you being serious, Ace?" You looked at him, praying that the name he suggested was only for sarcasm, but you were taken aback from his response. "What do you mean babe? Of course i am! It's such a perfect name for him!"

"It's... one of the most basic names I've ever heard. " You spared him a straight face, sending shivers down his spine. "Okay, okay I'll think of another name! Hm..how about Cookie?" Yeah he doesn't have naming privileges anymore.

In the end you both sticked into the name you had chosen for the puppy. Everything was going great for the first week, you buying him all the stuff he needed, the most high qualited dog food, and even his own supplies had beaten yours! With an average of spending atleast thoudands of Berries a week.

The second week hadn't been different at all, except for the fact that now that the puppy was growing, it became even more plsyful towards you. Meaning you, had soent almost all your time with it. On the other hand, your boyfriend Ace, ended up getting bitten at the hand for trying to take away it's toy that you gave.

"Babe! Do you see those eyes that's looking at me right now?! It looks like it's gonna KILL me!" Ace climbed up on a chair when he entered the house unannounced and the dog had decided to chase him for dear life.

"Come one Bae, he won't hurt you like at all! He's an angel!" You petted the dog, causing him to sit. "Yeah if it was opposite day I would've believed you! look at him, it looks like it's gonna bite my limbs of one by one!"

"Come on Ace! He won't bite you!" As soon as you reassured Ace thst nothing eould happen if he stepped down, he tried lowering his left foot down, causing the dog the fully bark at him. "SEE?!" Ace's voice was almost crying.

"Bad dog! You know he's the one who brought you to me right?! He's basically your dad! Go to your bed!" The dog whimpers then climbs it's bed.

"You know, after this i expect a full week of attention all mine! Okay?!" Ace pouts and settles himself down from the chair. You gave him a reassuring kiss, "I promise,"

©Cokou 2024, all works made by me.

[starlit-roman]

What your favorite sanders sides ship says about you in my opinion

I got this idea from @sandersontheside

Logince: Your favorite episode is why do we get out of bed in the morning and you question that too. You’re a fan of those red and blue haired character anime ships, and let’s not mention how much you love enemies to lovers. I feel like you like spaghetti with a shit ton of Parmesan, and sprite or Pepsi.

Logicality: You like sweet, wholesome ships the most and have probably either written a fan fiction about, read a fan fiction, or have thought about them baking cookies together. Also for some reason I feel like you like John Mulaney

Analogical: You like angst, not a crazy amount but you like to dip your ankles in it. Speaking of dip you probably either really like ranch or bbq sauce. And your favorite squishmallow is the bat one.

Loceit: You’re either the most chaotic person I will ever meet or you’re scarily chill about everything. You like it when all sense of right and wrong leave the room and just pure chaos despite how chaotically chill Logan and Janus are. You’ve definitely committed arson, and you’re a fan of tin cans and rainbows.

Intrulogical: You’re special, with love. I bet you watch doctor who while deepthroating packets of fun dip, sweet tarts, and/or hot tamales, I don’t have much else to say (I like this ship btw)

Royality: Opposites attract isn’t a thing that even registers in your brain, and despite what I want to think you’re probably the friend who corrupts the brains of your innocent friends and tells them about god knows what. If that’s not the case though you are the innocent friend who has surrounded themselves with not very innocent people. You like pasta with cumin. You also really like blueberries, soy sauce, and bluey.

Prinxiety: You’re correct. You prefer Ryan Gosling over Ryan Reynolds and you hate honeydew. You also probably have social anxiety.

Roceit: You like longer slow burn fanfictions and not just one shots, that along with enemies to lovers and a lot of tension. You’re definitely a maximalist when it comes to your room and you love rupauls drag race.

Moxiety: You’re a really sweet introvert and you like romance movies with happy endings. You probably like Mac Demarco and Arctic Monkeys and you like the scent of vanilla.

Moceit: (Kiss me) You really like stuffed animals and just fuzzy things in general. You’re a dog person but you like more cuddly cat-like dogs. You also like tomato soup.

Intruality: You’re super chaotic but super sweet, probably an Enfp or Entp. You like pickles and skunks and peanut butter cookies and cars 2.

Anxceit: You’re favorite social media is tumblr and you miss MySpace. You love hoodies and sweaters, your favorite season is winter, and you really like old artwork. You’re also really good at makeup, especially eye makeup

Dukexiety: You’re probably super all over the place and your rooms a mess but you know where everything is. You also really like snake plants and spiders

Dukeceit: You love the whole “He’s an idiot, but that’s my idiot” thing about this ship. If you have a roku it’s not set to the default theme and you probably like 90s-00s hiphop and you despise when your bed has crumbs in it.

Remrom: …

[yellow-berrys]

sweet weeping soul | remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: your friends aren't really your friends, and remus lupin helps you realise that. a (hopefully realistic) tale of toxic friendship and how one escapes from it, into healthy relationships, both platonic and romantic. angst -> fluff

aka five times you cry in front of remus and one time he cries in front of you.

warnings: toxic platonic relationships, crying, sadness, envy, insecurity

navigation | masterlist 

+1

Remus Lupin makes you feel different, not yourself, per se. Around him, you become soft and reserved. It’s rare you have a conversation anyway— for you never really talk to him, or spend heaps of time around him. Lily is friends with him and you’re friends with Lily, so by extension he is your good friend too. 

He is prettier than you and so kind, always with a cuddly quarter zip on or a fuzzy sweater. Sometimes he looks at you like he might kiss you, but you’ve seen him with other people and he looks at them the same, dark lashes nearly touching. 

Remus has been told that he’s soft, all his life. There’s a steadiness gleaming from his kind honey-brown eyes, and a certain gentlemanly way to his neat strands of light brown hair. There’s gentle written all over him, and he always has a sweater on in the colder seasons. He always looks quiet, and he always is quiet, preferring to leave the talking to Sirius or James. Remus is everything consistent and everything mellow. A little mystery is woven into the way he does everything too. It makes him elusive, more interesting. 

Mostly, he begs to differ. If you really get to know him, he swears like a sailor and is scarred like one too. His humour is snarky and sometimes crude. But he guesses that other people might be right, because he forgives too easily and loves too hard. 

Especially as you’re alone at breakfast, sitting at your place down the table and playing with your food. You look a bit distraught, he thinks. Where’s Lily? And everyone else? You clatter down your fork because everything looks unappetising. Even the delicacies the house-elves prepare so painstakingly look dull and dreadful. 

Remus notices your self-deprecating expression as a Slytherin girl passes by you and waves. She looks at you inquisitively and you respond with a small smile that is the furthest thing from genuine. She leaves with an arm hooked into her boyfriend’s, both looking worried for you. As she passes where Remus and the other Marauders are sitting, Remus can hear tid-bits of dialogue. 

“Poor thing,” she says.

Remus decides you’re definitely not okay when even Sirius hums, “L/n isn’t looking too well today.” 

You’re talking to Professor McGonagall now, a more amused smile on your face as you joke with her. But when she leaves you return to looking downtrodden and when you push your plate forward and start to get up from your seat, your eyes look empty. It’s when you hurry past him that he decides that he should go after you. 

Fast taps against the tiles of the hallways alarm you. You turn and there’s Remus, long legs gaining mileage on you. He reaches you and you step to the side to let him go past. You’re confused when he stops before you. His eyes flicker down to yours and they’re filled with concern. 

“Hey,” he breathes. 

“Hi,” you smile politely and it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Remus hates it. 

“I’m sorry if this comes off weird or creepy, but I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t look very happy,” he says quietly. 

You laugh. Again, it doesn’t sound right. It sounds forced and stuffy, “It’s not weird and I’m fine.” 

“Where are your friends?” he asks, gently. 

You shrug. It’s heavy enough that Remus can tell that you care a lot. 

“They’re all gone?”

“I heard them early in the morning,” you say, nodding slowly. 

“Are you okay then?” 

No. You had heard all the girls in the dorm giggling as they got ready at six in the morning, tippy-toeing around your bed. When you peeked an eye open, feigning slumber, Lily was wearing one of her date night dresses, a pretty sun-dress that was only used for picnics. Trixie from Hufflepuff was there, and so was Olive. You squeezed your eyes shut and when they were all gone you noticed the picnic basket was missing. Dread pooled in your stomach and you tried in all your might to believe that they went for a date or were going to come back up to invite you. You thudded down the stairs and asked a first year sitting by the portrait about them. 

“They were talking about a big group date,” she swung her legs, “Something about a park.”

You had smiled, “Thanks.”

You look at Remus, “Yeah.” But your voice breaks embarrassingly midway and your tired, disappointed mood starts to wear through. It’s impossible to put up a front in front of Remus, who’s gazing at you in such a fret. But he’s Lily’s friend and Lily surely had her reasons to not invite you. After all, you have your problems. It makes sense that it’s probably your fault and Remus deserves not to know. 

Remus tries to gauge the problem out of you- wheedle it and make it clear that he does care. Somewhere in your half-hearted smiles he’s developed a crush on you because he thinks your attempts to make him less worried are so sweet. 

But you simply shake your head every time he wants to know what’s wrong and ignore that he’s very close and very handsome. 

You set off to your dormitory, but realise that you don’t really want to be there. Remus can tell from the conflicted look in your face. 

“I’ll sit with you in the common room and you can please, please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”

He says it so earnestly that you nod, “Okay.” 

“I woke up this morning and they were all getting ready for something, with the hair curler and dresses. That means going out, usually. And Lily was wearing her picnic dress, the one with little flowers on it. I heard them giggling as they all went out and I thought maybe they’ll come back for me. But when I sat up there wasn’t anyone in their beds and the picnic basket was gone. I didn’t know what had happened so I went downstairs to ask this first-year and she said they were going on a group trip, plus James.

“I feel so left out,” your bottom lip wobbles, “Because if this was a one time thing, I wouldn’t feel so bad, but they do this all the time. And I’m tired of constantly trying to join them when they haven’t even invited me in the first place. Every time they hang out they never think of me. I mean, they invited Trixie and Olive, and I wish I could say I’m closer to them than Trixie and Olive but I don’t think that’s true anymore. Every time. I’m sick of trying to take the initiative to make plans, and if I don’t they never think about me. 

“In the holidays, they all went out to see this movie, and I get it, they all live near each other but they invited Hannah from Slytherin and not a word to me,” Remus’ heart pangs a little bit hearing your trembling tone, “It was only when I wrote to them asking if they wanted to see it with me that Lily said she had already seen it and so had Mary and Dorcas and everyone else. Okay, I accepted it, I did, and said we could go to the art gallery but no one replied.

“I tie my shoelaces and they never wait for me, but when they tie their shoelaces suddenly I have to be there, no matter what. And I can’t ever hang out with two of them because the others feel ostracised, even though they always leave me out. Lily gives me strange looks when I chat to Dorcas for more than 3 minutes straight. Once we were talking about volunteering for a charity and she looked back at me as if I was neglecting her, accusatorily. I wasn’t going to volunteer with Dorcas anyway, she lives in the Highlands. But then she can go and wrap gifts with Mary at the mall and not invite me,” your voice wavers. 

“I know it’s small, but it hurts so much. The worst thing is that I’m the problem here. There has to be a reason why they never invite me and I don’t know what it is. I try to be a perfect friend and I always wait for them when they pack their bags at Potions even if everyone else is leaving. I don’t get it and it’s bothering me,” you cry out, eyes watering. 

Remus wants to cry too seeing you cry, “Oh, darling.”

“I don’t understand what is wrong with me,” you despair, “I might not be the prettiest thing in the world, but I try,” voice cracking. 

He needs to have a word with Lily, he thinks. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, gorgeous,” he murmurs, “Don’t blame yourself.”

“But there is. They’re really nice people, why can’t I see it?” 

“Maybe they’re not nice people,” he offers. 

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, “Lily’s dating James. Mary’s dating Peter. Dorcas is in your bookclub.”

“Well, love, they’re not very nice to you. And no she’s not, far from it actually, no he’s not, they split, and no, she left.”

“Guess I need a life update then.”

“Why don’t you talk to them about it?”

You murmur, “I hate confrontation and why would they change just because I told them to? I’m scared, Rem.”

“I get it, beautiful. You can sit with me and Peter and James and Sirius and Marlene and Queenie and Jolene at lunchtimes and whenever you want.”

He’s so good, he doesn’t ask any questions or push you. Your teary eyes gaze up at him in wonder and admiration and no one’s ever looked at him like you do now. Here he goes again, loving too hard. 

“Really? I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Never, lovely.”

You surge and hug him, which catches him by surprise but he melts into it. It’s the nicest hug he’s been given, ever. He doesn’t get many as a guy, and usually they’re half-hearted and rough, but yours is grateful and warm. He’s all red and flustered after it but he doesn’t think you notice and you don’t. 

“We’re about to head to Hogsmeade, you wanna join us?” 

You think about it, “After I get these tears off my face.” You hurry up the stairs before he can say a word. 

“Nice going, Moons,” Sirius barges in from wherever he was hiding in the first place, hair slightly dishevelled, “You got some chocolate? I didn’t finish breakfast trying to stealthily tail you both up the stairs.”

+2

“He is just so delicious,” Mary sighs. You laugh, “Who, Peter?”

“Oh not Peter. Remus Lupin.”

You smile. Delicious. 

“Pfft, Peter. I only dated him to get closer to Remus.”

Your smile turns into something that’s unsettled, but she’s too busy ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing over his “washboard abs” to see you, even though he’s got an ungodly amount of layers on. 

“Speaking of, I think I have a crush on him!” she squeals and you smile again, kind of creeped out by her behaviour. You’re sure you’re just too sensitive about these things, “Will you introduce me?”

“Sure,” you lead her to where Remus is reading the paper. He looks up and he doesn’t give anything away. He's a mystery when he’s not too busy being soft. In reality, he can feel his heart start to speed up and his cheeks warm. 

“Hey, he’s blushing,” Mary whispers. Although it’s loud, Remus can hear it and feels self-conscious. 

You whisper back, “Shhh, I’m sure he’s not. Hi Remus.”

Remus nods at you, “Morning.”

“Oh he says morning, what a cutie,” Mary giggles and you giggle too, though Remus hears the strain your voice is in. 

“Remus, meet Mary Macdonald. She’s my friend. Mary, meet Remus.”

Hm. Remus thinks, remembering to be polite. He should give her the benefit of the doubt. He extends a hand, “Hello Mary.” 

You watch their interaction, spiking a little bit of disappointment in you. Is it at Mary paying more attention to Remus than you (and rightly so, you think. If you were that pretty you’d have people clawing at your feet too.) or because Remus might like Mary?

You miss how Mary looks at Remus hungrily. He swallows, uncomfortable, looking towards you and grimacing. You nod, a minute dip of your head, and carefully pry Mary away from him. 

“C’mon Mary, you promised to drop me off at my class.”

She studies her nails, “Actually, I need to go to the bathroom. You think you’d be okay with going alone?”

It’s not really a question, and your face falls. You walk alone. Remus has just witnessed Mary lying, because instead of turning three halls down to the left and turning to the right one hall down, she begins to flirt with him. It sours his opinion of her. 

“You free this Saturday?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.”

“Next Saturday?”

“Nah.” 

She sighs, “Handsome, let’s not play hard to get.”

He shrugs, “I’m not.”

“Why won’t you?”

Remus isn’t brutal enough to tell her the real truth, which is that he hasn’t heard good things about her. So he says, “I’m not interested and you dated my friend and broke his heart,” which is pretty accurate in itself. 

“Enigmatic.” 

He sighs, returning to his paper. 

A few hours later, you’re confronted with an awful truth as Remus sits peacefully opposite you reading a book. He’s in pure bliss as his eyes skim the page and his fingertips brush the edges of the paper. His hair flops in front of his eyes and you resist the urge to touch it. There’s a little smile on his lips. 

You like Remus a lot, and you can’t, because Mary likes him. It feels forbidden, and you can’t imagine how Mary would react. Friends didn’t like other friends’ crushes, they stayed a comfortable distance away from them. Rule 2 in the book. And Mary brings it up at night. 

“Say, Y/n, would you mind not being so close to Remus?”

You’re finishing up a Transfiguration essay and look at her, caught off guard.

“I’m not actually that close with him,” you laugh, “At least not romantically.”

She narrows her eyes, “Yeah, I know that. As if he would ever be romantic.” with you, she means. 

You’re silent, ignoring her dig at you. This is a critical part of how to be a good friend. You don’t want to ruin Mary’s ventures with Remus but you really like him, both platonically and romantically. 

“Could you back off? I know you both are friends and whatever but I need this.”

You chew on your lip. It’s a shame, because you did like him and Peter and Sirius and James and Marlene and Jolene and Queenie. You still want to be friends with him. But Mary has a jealous streak and you’ve seen the girls who she’s left torn and beaten. 

“I don’t think I’ll ruin your chances, Mary.”

“Neither do I,” she says harshly.

You’re struck by her sudden tone. It’s curt, snappy and it’s loud. It hurts. You immediately find the tears swarm in your eyes. So you startle, “I forgot, I need to go find Marlene to get some advice on the essay.”

“Since when have you known Marlene Mckinnon?”

You leave, tears flowing as you furiously wipe them away. Remus is downstairs with Sirius, and Sirius is begging for chocolate for some reason. You catch his eye. He immediately calls to you, but you pretend to not hear. You can’t hang out with him anymore. You hurry down to the Prefect bathroom. It’s always empty there. 

You sit down by the bath, pacing out your breaths. Soon you calm down, and when you have the energy to look around you, you see Remus leaning against the door. There’s a crease between his brow. 

“Rem, I can’t be near you much anymore,” you blink at him, “This won’t be a surprise to you but Mary really likes you. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable, or think I’m trying to steal you from her.”

Remus’ frown only deepens, as you refuse to meet his eyes. He hooks his fingers under your chin and lifts your head up. 

“Aren’t you?” he grins. He thinks if he’s going to want you he might as well want you right. 

You bring your hands to his and you gently take them away, patting his hand, “Don’t. Even if I’m friends with you, it’s too friendly for Mary.”

“Honey, you don’t need to do what Mary says.”

“It’s not what Mary says. It’s Rule 2 in the book.”

He laughs, “Rule 2 in the book. And what’s Rule 1?”

“Never leave your girls hanging for boys. I feel like I’ve betrayed her.”

“Well, you can always hang with the others, right?”

You nod, “We’ll see. I’ll see you around?”

His eyes are filled with something unreadable and mysterious. He wants to be with you, so badly, he wants imploringly to show you what you mean to him. But he nods, he understands, and pecks you on the cheek. “Remus!” you admonish. He’s smirking away, the last you see of him is the imprints of a shy smile, latent and alluring. 

You smile, feeling bitter as you tell Mary, “I’ll leave Lupin alone, Mary.”

She flickers her eyes up at you, “I didn’t think you weren’t going to.” She looks bored, and you feel nothing but disappointment. 

+3

“Wait up, Lily!” You call. You wish you didn’t need to, but you guess that you’re forgettable. 

She stops, a little disgruntled. 

“What’s got you so excited for today?” You ask her, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

“Well, certainly not Potter going to ask me out and me to reject him. He hasn’t in a while, so that’s been a relief.”

You laugh, “Are you missing it?”

“Never.”

“Don’t you think rejecting him that harshly is a little sad?” 

It’s true. He’s nothing but nice in his advances. All he does is give her flowers, most of the time he doesn’t say anything but frown when Lily pushes the flowers roughly back into his grasp, and leaves disappointedly. He’s been doing this for only a little while, and he looks less and less infatuated with Lily each time. Once she turned to you smugly, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Must be nice having no guys pestering you for attention,” she had told you. 

You had cheerfully agreed with her, but inside you were heartbroken. 

Lily enters the hall, an expectant look on her face. Instead of James waiting by the big door, he’s eating, no flowers or chocolates in sight. Remus turns and gives you the tiniest smile. You give him a sympathetic one. 

“Huh. No flowers.”

You stay quiet. If you say something, it’ll come out berating or pathetic to Lily. Maybe if she didn’t always brutally dismiss him or flame him to no ends, he might continue, but isn’t this what she wanted?

You talk to Queenie, who pouts, “Can’t tell you, sorry Y/n.”

You’ve seen James with Regulus, the latter denying his love though not like Lily had. It’s accepted and Regulus returns the affections, though in his own cold way. James looks happy whenever he’s with Regulus. 

Lily calls to James, “Potter, I didn’t see you water the plants today.”

James shrugs, “Okay, Evans. They’re watered. I got someone to do it. Someone much more competent than me.”

At that he winks at Regulus, who goes red and smiles tenderly. Sirius rolls his eyes, whispering to James, “Oi, eyes off my brother or you won’t have eyes at all tomorrow.”

Lily’s curt all day long, and snippy. You don’t dare to say a word to her and tippy toe endlessly after she scowls at you for asking if she wants some hot chocolate. 

At the end of the day when you’ve come back with accompanying Dorcas to the Potions storeroom and three of the girls come surging, whisking Lily away but never offering you with the same warmth. At the end, you quietly slip away from the group. You have this harrowing feeling you don’t actually belong with them. No one notices and you press your lips together. 

“Girl’s night!!” Dorcas yells. 

There’s only a little more to go till you graduate and you’re officially able to leave the dormitory. Maybe they aren’t so good for you. You just wish you could be included more, cherished. What if I don’t deserve to be cherished? The question swirls in your mind, distressing you. When you bump into Marlene near the quidditch field, trucking down from practice, she sets down her broomstick and takes off her gloves. 

“Don’t see you here often, darl,” she sits next to you, “You’re in the firing zone of Sirius’ wild bludgers, by the way.”

Sirius is hovering above, hitting bludgers fiercely. One zooms past your shoulder, only because Marlene nudges her broomstick to the bludger. You barely flinch. 

“Hey. Are you okay?”

You look at her, “Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to get some fresh air.”

“At 8 in the night? Where are your friends?” 

You feel so vulnerable right now. “I’m- I’m with you. You’re my friend.”

“I know. Okay,” Marlene thinks for a second, “Where are your dorm mates?”

You sob, “They’re having a girl’s night.”

“Without you?”

“I…” To be truthful, you don’t know where you are with your friends. It makes you even more emotional. You feel tears well up in your eyes. Marlene makes a strained noise and you see she’s crying too. 

“Oh, don’t make me cry too,” she sobs, “I can’t handle emotions.”

Sirius notices, and nearly gets taken over by a bludger. “Moony,” he shouts, “We’ve got a problem.”

“We’ve or you’ve?” Remus asks dryly from the sidelines. 

“You’ve. Not I’ve but you’ve,” Sirius points to where both you and Marlene are sobbing together. 

“I’m only one man, there are two of them,” Remus looks at Sirius meaningfully. 

“Fine.”

“Which one do you want?”

“Marlene.”

Sirius flies over to Marlene, mounting his broomstick.

“Marlene, you good?” He crouches down on the grass. 

She glares at him, tearily, “Do I look okay to you, Black?”

“Right, well, why are you sad?” Sirius has the tact of a three year old although Marlene’s too busy crying to care. 

Marlene points at you, “She’s sad, so I’m sad.”

Sirius hops up, and pats the incoming Remus on the back. “They’re all yours, Buster.”

Remus sits down next to you, “You know, there’s a cloud over there that looks like James.”

It really doesn’t, it’s night and you can’t see much. But it makes you huff a laugh out. Remus relaxes. Marlene stops crying. 

“It’s pitch black, idiot,” she grins. 

He smiles boyishly. 

“Marlene?” you peek up at her, still halfway to dry eyes. 

“Mm?”

“Can I stay at your dorm for the night? I don’t really feel like going back to mine.”

“Sure. Okay, I need a shower. I can’t be hugging you all stinky and sweaty.”

“You smell great,” you smile at her.

“Thanks.”

“No problemo.”

You turn to Remus, “Shuffle over some ten centimetres please. For Mary.”

“Mary’s having a girl’s night without you, sweet thing, does she really matter?” Remus moves nonetheless. 

“Yeah,” you hiccup, “I want to be a good friend.”

He doesn’t question you and leaves it at that. 

Marlene comes out, drying her hair with a towel.

“Are we good to go?”

“Yeah!”

“C’mon.”

You look back, “Bye Remus!”

He’s smiling so softly your heart thuds. It’s the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. You wonder what he’s thinking about. 

He’s thinking about you. Sweet weeping soul.

+4

The scene’s set. It’s a sweeping plain overlooking the rest of Hogwarts, symbolic and gradual. This is where you’ll graduate. It’s bitter, but you’re mostly ready to move on from school. Of course, you’ll miss days spent with fellow students and the teachers, and the school grounds where you spent so much time laughing and loving, but you think you’re okay with going solo. You haven’t worked out where you’ll be staying, there’s still ten weeks left in the school year where seventh years hang around aimlessly and try to soak up as much of Hogwarts as they can. But you know if you don’t find a place to stay, you can always bunk with your parents. 

You already find yourself shedding tears, as you go up to give a speech. After the procession, McGonagall calls you over. 

“Oh darling,” she cries, mascara muddied from her watery eyes, “I’ll miss you so much. Thank you for being such a good student. Have you got a place to stay? A job? I’ll always be open to giving you the Transfiguration professor role so I can focus on being Deputy Headmaster.”

You laugh, “Professor-”

“Please, we’re both adults now. Minerva, or Minnie, or Mins, or Nerve.”

“Nerve?!”

“Sirius Black does have some calling me that.”

Both of you let out watery chuckles. 

“Minnie, thank you so much for being my Professor,” you wipe the corner of your eye, “Oh I have to do this eleven more times. You know, I’ve learnt so much from you and you’re just a dear. I can’t believe I’m leaving this place, forever. Not yet, and yes, I applied for a position in the Ministry.”

“Don’t forget Hogwarts. Please visit, weekly.”

“I will, and I won’t forget about that Transfiguration job.”

“Please, remember it, you always had a competence for most things you did. Even Magical Music, which I remember you saying you hated, despised, loathed, and were terrible at, but Professor Quavers thought you were a very capable student.”

“Minnie,” you weep into her shoulder, hugging her, “Please remember me.”

“I couldn’t ever forget you,” she leans to whisper, “You are one of my favourite students.” 

It makes you cry even harder. In the end, you take a picture with her and exchange emails, phone lines, addresses. She hands you an envelope, which later you learn encloses automatic recommendation letters and some gift cards. 

This is done eleven times more, teachers bestowing you with gifts and promises of communication. By the end, your hands are full and you put the things in your bag by your chair, going to join Lily, Dorcas, Mary, Alice in taking photos. Mary’s voice shouts, “I still like Remus Lupin!” 

“Cheers to the new apartment!” Dorcas’ father says, “What beautiful girls.”

You freeze. They had an apartment planned and ready? Maybe you’re ready to leave your friends. You turn away, crying more when you see Queenie. 

She beckons you over, “Come take photos with us.” 

You smile. Everyone huddles close. Remus is beside you, all wily and eyes sparkling with tears. “You alright, darling?”

“I’ll miss you, Rem. You know I haven’t really gotten to talk to you much, but you’ve been nothing but wonderful to me.”

“Ask her!” Jolene hisses. 

“Right, so, I, we, the guys and the girls, are going to rent apartments with each other. Do you want to join us?”

You’re starstruck. You start crying in his arms, and he looks very concerned. 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t keep them in. Of course I want to join you, you guys are amazing.”

“Sweetness…” he wipes your eyes with a handkerchief he has yet to use. 

“Remus, Mary, remember? She still likes you. I know you’re only doing this as friends and she does too, but she doesn’t like people hanging around…” you meet his eyes. 

He looks at you again in that unreadable way and you don’t know what to do. Sirius is quietly taking pictures of you two with his expensive camera. He likes the way Remus looks at you and the way you don’t seem to know what it means. Fine photography. Would make an excellent engagement gift. I'm so smart. He flips the camera. And so handsome.

"Get a load of you," James scoffs.

+5

You haven’t watched Mean Girls yet. Queenie finds that astounding, and so everyone must attend the movie marathon she holds. You hang your coat up on the rack, stepping out of your shoes and sighing.

“How was work?” Marlene asks. 

“That question makes me feel so old,” you huff, cracking your joints, “It was so-so. Marcus tried to harass Heron into getting Jerome out of the project that he and Heather are working on.”

“Oh really. That mother-”

“Evening!” Sirius barges into the apartment, wearing his suit, “Did you know, Marcus was-”

“Harassing Heron into getting Jerome out of the project that he and Heather are working on,” you finish, “How does the public relations sector know that?”

“We do have excellent public relations.”

“Where’s James?”

“He’s picking up Regulus.”

“Awh,” you coo. 

“I wish James had a sibling so I could date them too,” Sirius grouches. 

“Don’t be like that, Pads,” Peter strides to the fridge, kissing Jolene on the cheek and grabbing a can of kombucha, “They’re so good together.”

“Good my a-”

“Language!” Marlene calls. 

Someone knocks on the door. You open it and Remus is standing, stretching. A little strip of skin shows as his shirt lifts. His top button is undone and he looks tired. But he still looks at you the same, red on his cheeks and red lips turning up. I can’t be loving him like this, you think, it’s overwhelming.  

“Hey,” you open the door.

He smiles at you, “Doing well, honey?” He doesn’t say much at all, but when he does it’s always followed by a “beautiful” or “pretty” or “doll”. 

A chorus of greetings come from around the television. He nods, turning back to you, “I gave exams back today. Talked my quota full.”

Beaming at him, you hand him a bowl of popcorn, “We’re fine with it. You speak as much as you want.”

He smiles at you again. He’s doing a lot of that. But then again, he’s always like this when he’s tired. At a bar, he’ll be tilting his head, smiling at you through fatigued eyes, begging James to go home. When he’s up grading papers, he’ll be smiling at you, the same melting eyes and lashes nearly touching. And you always say, “How much of your soul did you trade to the devil for those lashes?” 

He never gets it, and he says, “Comes with the beard I need to shave off every morning.”  

You’re snapped back by a slamming of the door as James comes in with Regulus. 

He’s right– he doesn’t talk much, just sitting back on the sofa, observing and listening. He watches you most of the time, and he sees when you’re about to cry. Your breathing gets unsteady and eyes start finding anything else to look at. You tremble as you reach for popcorn, and excuse yourself multiple times, and you manage to stop crying mostly. None of your friends notice much, too busy yelling at the screen, but he does. 

You start bawling when Regina’s influence over the rest of the girls vanishes, and Remus immediately turns to you, leading you across the hall. 

“I’m so sorry,” you ramble, “Why is it that I’m always crying when I see you?”

Remus doesn’t mind– he likes that you feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable around him. 

“It’s just that– that movie reminded me so much of my old friends and it’s all too overwhelming thinking about them. I mean, they haven’t called, I don’t know where they live and I’m so grateful but also I feel so bad about it.”

“Hey, it’s okay. They didn’t deserve you.”

“I know, but the movie hit so close to home, Rem. I’m so glad to have you.”

Remus pretends that by ‘you’, you mean him, knowing it means the whole group of them. 

You sob quietly, bundling his shirt into your hands. He lets you, and he’s quiet about it. You’re a sweet weeping soul, rendered that by your ex-friends. But he wants you so much.

+1 

“Good news,” you announce, going into Remus’ apartment to recite to him what you had just read in your weekly mail, “McGonagall got a dog, his name is Hubert and he’s a border collie. Also, Mary has a boyfriend.”

You had had to write to Mary to tell her you were moving across the corridor from Remus. She hadn’t replied. None of your friends had bothered to ask where you would stay. You had decided those friendships were over. Still, you kept a friendly distance from Remus. You had only known she’s gotten a boyfriend when the boy himself wrote to you asking you for your blessing. You had written back, telling him that you and Mary were no longer friends, but nonetheless that you wished them well. It was a sign that you were truly over it. 

You’re searching through his apartment, when you hear quiet sniffles coming from his room. You knock, then enter. Your heart aches as you see Remus leaning against the wall, crying. 

“Rem…”

“Go away,” he mutters, muffled. 

“Remus.”

“Oh.” he doesn’t lift his head to look at you. You sit next to him on the floor. 

“What happened?”

“I like this girl.”

You try to fight your own disappointment back, and smile, though it’s warped.

“Yeah?”

“There’s no way in hell she likes me back. I mean I’ve done everything to show her I do. I’ve called her pet names, tried to be charming, hell, I’ve even flirted.”

The disappointment is winning. 

“And I get it, because I’m all gnarly. But it hurts.” 

He continues, “And she’s…perfect. Like, really beautiful. She’s kind, so charming, so empathetic and she has the prettiest smile.”

You pretend you’re glad for him. You’re really not. You want to leave, maybe he’ll stop talking about her. But you still listen, because you do care. As much as it hurts you to know he likes another girl, it also hurts you to know he’s sad. Lovely, caring Remus, with his shyness and comfortable silences. 

“She’s really everything to me, and I don’t think I’m much to her.”

“Don’t say things like that, Remus,” you begin, “You’re a great guy, and any girl would be lucky to have you, especially her.” The words don’t sit quite right, they feel sour on your tongue. 

“I’m not good enough for her.”

The words crush you, and you frown. 

“Hey!” you snap, “Remus John Lupin, you are so good, and so kind. I can’t bear to hear you badmouth yourself like this. You are not gnarly. I think you're charming. Love yourself for me, Remus, please.” 

He looks at you, eyes swarming with that emotion. 

“Thank you, darling.”

–

Remus catches you by surprise when he’s standing by your desk.

“What are you doing here, Remus?”

“Good evening, fine sir! How are you doing? I’m well, thank you!”

“No, seriously,” you cross your arms, “This is the intelligence department. How did you get in here?”

“Let’s just say, your boss is a 60 year old woman, and I sure know my way around them from playing bingo with my grandmother and her friends every Saturday.”

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” And he looks better too, creases gone from under his eyes, which are now blinking endearingly at you. He had told himself he would tell you, and that would be it. Queenie tells him that you do like him, but he can’t believe her. He’s tapping his foot nervously. 

“I am. When will you be off work?”

“I just have to send this email and I’ll be done.”

“Great!” He pulls out a book and starts reading. You finish your email, click send, shut off your computer and reorganise the files on your desk. You put on your coat, and put your bag on. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asks. 

"Yep.”

“Lovely, we’re going to take a stroll around the block. It’s a…thanks for the other day.”

You smile, “You’re more than welcome.” 

You pass by a flower shop. He stops, “Hey, I want to get a present for you know- her.”

You feel your heart pang, “Yeah, sure," and then follows the obligatory, "Need some help?”

“Obviously.” 

You step in and the bells jingle. A friendly shop attendant pokes her head from where she’s cutting roses. 

“Hi Remus,” she grins at him, wiggling her eyebrows and he blushes, “And you are?”

You smile, “I’m Y/n.”

“Petunia Evans.”

“Lily?”

“Yes. Are you his girlfriend?”

You laugh, you’re flattered that anyone would ever think you’re his girlfriend, “Oh, I’m not his girlfriend. We’re actually here to find Remus’ crush a present! I’m Y/n,” you shake her hand. 

“His crush, you say?”

“Yeah, his crush! By the way, I’ll tell you my favourite flower, can you psychoanalyse me?”

She giggles, “Okay!”

You whisper it in her ear and she starts a long tale of surprisingly accurate details of your life. 

“Damn, you’re good.” 

“Thanks. Remus, is there anything you’re looking for in particular? For this crush?” 

Remus blushes.

You go to inspect the flowers at the front to hopefully get cheered up by the bees and the butterflies that touch down on little sprigs of pollen. You won’t revert to the sweet weeping soul that they made you. Remus buys some flowers and sets them down on the counter. 

Petunia takes her dinner break and slips out of the building quietly. You’re admiring the little glass panes on the wall which let the right amount of light through, walking backwards and around the room. Remus is wondering when he should do it, turning uncertainly and walking towards you. You turn quickly too, “Remus, look at the ceil-”

You crash into him. He catches you, flowers in one hand, you in the other. You’re very close to him– he smells like a forest and chocolate. His eyes flicker to yours and there’s the expression again. 

“Sorry,” you smile, stepping away. He doesn’t let go of you, instead pulling you closer. You look up to him with wide eyes and he’s so red all of a sudden. He brings the flowers to cover his face. 

“These are for you,” he murmurs. 

“Awh, but you really didn’t need to,” you grin, bringing the flowers up to your nose, “I offer my services for free!” They are so nice, and he's so nice.

“Services?” 

“You know, helping you pick out the flowers and all.”

He sighs, “Darling, I don’t know how else to say this, but, I want you. I don’t have a crush, you’re my crush, I just never had the guts to say it. I want you by my side, all the time. It was hell on earth trying to stay away from you all these years because of Mary. I don’t know if you even like me, but I really, really like you, maybe even love you.”

You open your mouth, then shut it, eyes wide with sparkling, “I like you too.”

“Really? Because you don’t need to say it back just because you’re nice, I’m a lot of things but I don’t know if handsome or boyfriend material is one of them.”

“Rem, I adore you. You are so pretty and you always are comfortable when I’m crying and upset and raging.”

“Can we try this out then?”

“Of course we can. I’d do anything for you, Remus Lupin.”

“And I promise I’ll never make you a sweet weeping soul.” 

[weebsinstash]

sitting here suddenly consumed with thoughts of Alastor x dog Reader because like

-Reader who is easily excitable and gets loud on accident and kind of easily distracted and you've got a tail that wags and Alastor adores his lovely little idiot puppy darling

-endless entertainment for him, really. You're just so... fun for him to fluster and get reactions out of, whether it's watching you get embarrassed you can't hide your wagging tail, or if you have expressive pointy ears, or you're getting scrappy and competitive with other dogs/hellhounds. He gives you a cheesy compliment and you could be rolling your eyes and telling him to fuck off, meanwhile your tail is making loud rapid thumping noises against the nearest surface and he always knows when he's hit one of your weak spots

-something something "being a dog is representative of you being kind of a bimbo; you're super friendly and cuddly but you're not always very bright and you get aggressive sometimes and also You Will Die Without Constant Love And Approval". I am all for super cunning yandere manipulating their lovingly dim-witted or at least just less intelligent victims

-just. Ok. Picture poly radiostatic and one of them is at home with you and the other one is out, and, say Vox is with you and he looks up from his phone to see you settled by the window watching the street, ears occasionally perking and drooping as you think you see dots of red on the street, and eventually Vox watches your tail just start wagging super fast and you all but race to the door and the second it opens and Alastor comes in, you're just giving him a big hug and maybe kisses idk to welcome him home, like 🥺❤️ Vox just clutching his chest as he saves the video of you being all sad by the window and all but racing to hug Alastor to his cloud storage, his back-up cloud storage, his back-up back-up cloud storage- also he shows Alastor the video later and, the Radio Demon won't admit it but he's extremely grateful for the sophistication of Vox's tech to capture every single pixel of your excited face as you realize you see your favorite cannibal coming from down the street, like.... you completely break through their defenses with your cuteness

-ngl, taller Reader with Vox and Alastor has been hitting me different and I can just see big fuzzy dog Reader scooping them both up and, not exactly manhandling or roughousong per se but just like, very openly affectionate, hugging lots, even picking them up, lots of cheek kisses. I wanna be like. A big lovable dumb Great Pyrenees or something. And also maybe peg them, because why else would their waists be so small if not for me to grab--

-Reader who uses magic to hide they're a dog from Alastor 🤝 Reader who uses their abilities to hide the fact they're a computer from Vox. I keep thinking of Readers with shape-shifting abilities and all the cute forms you could have but also the capacity for like, SUPER body dysmorphia since you can go from having hair and skin to either too much hair or no skin at all, kwim? Imagine being in some sort of transformation and that's when you meet one of them or another yandere or friend or whomever and then you're convinced they're not gonna like the real "ugly" you. Reader just hears Alastor say he doesn't like dogs and you get all depressed because you're his red string soulmate or some shit and you think he's gonna head for the hills (meanwhile he finds out and thinks you're absolutely precious)

-dog Reader who instead of licking just gives lots and lots of cheek and face kisses, like the shit you give to your cat almost but totally genuinely. Dog Reader with their separation anxiety ass getting like, kidnapped or something by some dumbass who thinks they can fuck with the Radio Demon, and you get saved and just all but tackle Alastor to just mwah mwah mwah all over his face while your tail wags, like 😭❤️ he'll never admit how much he likes it though-

- something something "when yandere Alastor finally takes you into his clutches, he'll probably make jokes about what a naughty puppy you've been and how he needs to collar you" and brings the whole dog theme full circle. What's the expression? "The bird who has always been caged dreams of freedom while the free bird wonders of the safety and security of the cage?" You could really apply this to any yandere story period but I also feel like the "you've been really betrayed and hurt and traumatized and might not be the best at taking care of yourself anymore and being taken care of by your captor is simultaneously terrifying yet welcomed" theme runs slightly deeper if Reader is quite literally having their physical form basically manifest as an epitome of emotional attachment and loyalty

- Alastor genuinely embodying that cop show meme of the woman holding the puppy except it's him and his darling. "Now I've had this scrappy little delight for just a mere day and a half now and if anything foul ever befell their poor soul, why, I think I would slaughter everyone in this Hotel, the rest of Hell, and then myself! Hahaha!"

[miraclewoozi]

UNDER THE COLLAR. -l.sm

your unlucky-in-love best friend goes on a date with someone who, by all accounts, should be his perfect person. so... how exactly do you end up being the one who tucks his sorry, drunk ass into bed?

pairing; lee seokmin x gn!reader.  (he calls reader pretty once but that is all<3) content; fluff / some mild angst towards the middle / pining / friends to… still friends but with some ~tension~ and a snuggle? w/c; 4.6k and a smidge. warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption (offscreen), drunkenness, some suggestiveness (MINORS DNI), reader has some hard thoughts, a bit of affectionate touching but nothing deliberately sexual? seok is needy and cuddly (and a terrible flirt). let me know if i've forgotten anything! note; this was originally gonna be part of a mini-series/multi-chap situation but!! i ended up hating the full thing and only being attached to like. two parts of it lol so here we are! there could potentially be a second part to this? if people want it? i don’t know yet! but this kinda just works as it’s own standalone thing anyway i think~ happy sunday <3

The first text comes through just after you finally set your phone down on the bedside table. Your eyes are dry and have started to sting from a long evening staring at screens, your bones feel impossibly heavy, and you think maybe you’re settling down for a semi-decent night’s sleep when you hear the buzz of a notification. A buzz you initially plan to ignore. It can’t be anything that important: who would be trying to reach you at this time of night, anyway? 

You roll away from the device and snuggle down into your pillows, pulling the sleeves of your — his — jumper down over your palms and resting them just in front of your face. This particular garment stopped smelling like Seokmin after the second time it went through your washing machine, but there’s a familiarity in the slightly rough inner lining that makes you want to wear it to sleep in every night, forever. He never liked it when his hoodies were too new, too soft, leaving balls of fluff all over his t-shirts and vests; you don’t know when you started to feel the same way, but you’ve realised recently that you do.

Your eyes flutter closed and your body relaxes, head starting to feel fuzzy in that calm, white-noise, lovely way. You haven’t felt this tired and genuinely sleepy for… months. It’s bliss. 

And then your phone buzzes again. You squeeze your eyes tighter, determined not to lose this warm, comfortable feeling, but your phone vibrates and vibrates and vibrates and with an audible groan, you sit back up, reaching over to see what, exactly, is so damn important at 02:23 in the fucking morning.

Seokmin’s contact name flashes up on the lock screen and you see that there are seven unread messages from him in the space of the last 3 minutes. Instantly, your brows draw together: he’s seldom shied away from a double text, but you’ve never known him to pull a septuple, and you can’t feel but feel a little bit of dread in your stomach as you read through them. 

> seokmin: yn

> seokmin: ynnnnnn

> seokmin: i lied

> seokmin: i didmt go homr yet

> seokmin: can you come get mr

> seokmin: mr

> seokmin: m e

You shoot back a message instantly asking where he is, turning on your bedside lamp and already swinging your legs out from under the covers. You keep hold of your phone in one hand, waiting for it to buzz again to tell you he’s given you his location. With the other, you search for and pull on some sweatpants, sliding into a pair of sneakers. His replies come simultaneously too quickly, and entirely not fast enough.

> seokmin: u knkw the bar in town with the bear statiiue oitside

> seokmin: lol

> seokmin: do you think i ciuld beat thsi bear in s fight???

> y/n: christ. okay, wait inside for me. i’ll be there in 15. 

> y/n: also, no. you couldn’t. x

Your veins feel alive with adrenaline and worry as you grab your keys and head down the stairs to your car. The drive is quiet — you don’t even waste the few seconds it would take to plug into the AUX and pick a playlist, leaving it up to the radio to keep you company on the way. It doesn’t take too long: soon enough, you’re pulling up alongside the infamous bear statue to find your best friend sitting on the curb, propped up against the marble base.

“I thought I told you to wait inside?” you chide, rolling down the passenger side window so you can announce your arrival. It’s like he’s moving in slow-motion, or maybe your words just take an extra few seconds to reach him? Either way, he doesn’t lift his head until a silence has settled between you, and he doesn’t smile until his slightly glazed-over eyes land on your face.

“Y/n!” He cheers, lifting himself off the floor and staggering upright, pushing a hand through his hair. “Hi! Yeah, I know — but look, it was too hot in there. It was so hot. And I didn’t want you to wait-…” Hiccup. “To have to wait for me.” 

He slides into the passenger seat with a contented sigh, a mess of long limbs he can’t quite control, adjusting the vent in front of him so that the cold from your air-con breezes against his flushed cheeks. As he settles, you reach over him, pulling his seatbelt across his chest. 

“I was getting to that,” he whines, pouting his pretty lips at you, and you click the belt in place with a laugh. History tells you that when he’s drunk, Seokmin doesn’t always believe in the power of the seatbelt, among other things, so you think maybe you could be forgiven for not believing him this time.

“Okay, dumbass. Sure you were.”

He reaches down into the passenger footwell for your AUX cord, bumping his head on the dashboard and letting out an exaggerated hiss as he sits back upright. Nonetheless, he plugs his phone in and presses play on his own night-driving playlist, holding the device between both of his hands as you start off towards his place.

“So…” you prompt, because he’s staring blankly out the windscreen with a tiny smile on his lips and you’re concerned that maybe, this time, he has actually managed to drink himself stupid. He rolls his head over to look at you, and fond bliss is written into every line of his face. “What happened?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, still just… staring at you as you drive. Staring, even though every detail of you is committed to his memory already. Staring, even though he knows how your eyelashes flutter when you blink. Even though he knows how the muscles in your throat bob as you swallow the saliva on your tongue. Even though he’s sat in your passenger seat enough times to remember exactly how the late-night glow of the street-lamps overhead catch and illuminate the curve of your nose, how they highlight the point of your chin. He knows all this, but he can’t help himself. Staring is… indulgent. So, so indulgent. But he is pretty drunk and he can get away with it when you’re focused on the road — at least, that’s what he tells himself.  

When he does attempt to speak, just as you slow to a stop at a set of traffic lights, the sparkle in his gaze falters. He faces forward again, shoulders rising and slumping in a meek ‘I don’t know’.

“She was… perfect, I think,” he tries to explain, and you glance across to look at him; his lips are both non-existent, pulled between his teeth and he has worry lines creasing up his forehead. With the hand not holding the wheel, you reach over, pressing your fingertips to where his eyebrows have scrunched to try and get him to relax the muscles there. It sort of works, if only because he releases an involuntary breath of a laugh.

“Not perfect,” you gasp, dramatic and teasing even though it stings a little to hear him say that out loud. “I mean, that definitely explains why you were out drinking, alone, three hours after you told me you were heading home.” He turns his head fully away from you, now, letting your hand drop dangerously towards his lap. You pull it back to yourself before it collides with his jeans, clearing your throat. The traffic signal changes to green, and you drive ahead. “I’m kidding. Come on. Talk to me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, despondent, crossing his arms over his chest. You’re not sure you’ve seen him acting like this since you were teenagers. It’s a strange twist away from your usual, very easy-going banter.

“Seok...” You try again. “I won’t stop for nuggets if you don’t tell me.” 

“Don’t stop, then.”

“Seokmin…”

“Don’t-…” It comes out quickly, the vein in the side of his neck popping until he takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “Y/n. I’m tired, I just-… I don’t wanna talk about it. Can you please just… take me home?”

He’s still struggling with his words, but he isn’t abrasive in the way he speaks; that’s something you learned about Seokmin very early on in your friendship. He doesn’t raise his voice at you. He doesn’t get deep and gravelly when he’s pissed off. He just… seems to let himself feel things super intensely for a few seconds at a time and then he short-circuits, goes flat. It might be convenient for him, but it gets frustrating for you. Especially when he encourages you to open up to him as much as he does. 

His head is bowed and cradled in his hands when you pull up outside his apartment block, and you unfasten his seatbelt for him which jolts him upright. You stay facing front, though, guilt coursing through your veins at the thought of maybe having pushed him too far. You just want to understand. Why was his date being good such a bad thing?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you tell him, and he scoffs, but quietly.

“Y/n,” he sighs, his crown falling against the headrest; he reaches over to you, places a hand just above your knee, and you try to ignore how it feels like someone has crashed their car into you from behind. How your heart lurches forwards in your chest. How your adrenaline spikes.

“I mean it. I shouldn’t have kept pushing. I’m sorry.”

He chews this over for a moment, but he doesn’t remove his hand, and you find that maybe you don’t want him to. Not yet, at least.

“Will you help me get up the stairs?”

“Of course I will.”

With one of his arms over your shoulders, your own supporting his waist, the pair of you begin the obnoxiously long ascent up through his building to his apartment. He’s lived here for a year and a half, and you think maybe the elevator has been working… for a total of about a week, since then? God forbid he ever got injured and couldn’t climb six flights just to get himself home. The climb is bad enough as is.

Somewhere around landing number four, Seokmin pulls away from you, mumbling something about having the spins and needing to sit down. You ease him to perch on one of the windowsills, sitting down next to him with your arm still around his hips to keep him balanced on the narrow ledge.

“You should’ve taken me back to your place,” he grumbles, doubling over with his elbows against his knees and his fingers linked behind his neck, taking deep breaths.

“Get your feet flat on the floor. Look at your shoelaces. Breathe slow. It’ll help,” you coo, and he shuffles a little so that he can do exactly that (not without wobbling and almost landing on his face, and he thanks you and your “super strong arms” for keeping him from such a fate). After a few more seconds of deep breathing and grounding, he lifts his head. Crisis averted.

“Are you-… like, a witch, or something?” he asks out of nowhere, and you snort so loudly that your throat hurts. He keeps staring at you, waiting for you to answer. Apparently your laugh wasn’t response enough.

“What are you talking about, Seok?” 

He rolls his eyes at you, as if you should just know. “How did you know how to fix me? It’s like magic.”

“Because I know you, stupid. Come on. Two more flights and I’ll get you into bed.”

“S’that a promise?” he asks, grinning to himself as you haul him back to standing, and he stumbles slightly against you, hands braced on your ribs. Sweating a little, you manoeuvre yourself away from him, landing a gentle, playful hit to his side. 

It doesn’t make your heart flutter, hearing what can only be a drunk rendition of his bedroom voice. It doesn’t. It doesn’t. It doesn’t.

“Save it for your next date with Ms. Perfect, would you?”

“Agh. You’re the worst.”

“I know. Now come on.”

After a few minutes of fumbling through Seokmin’s pockets yourself for his keys (it’s as if he’s forgotten how both hands and pockets work in his now very giggly stupor), apparently brushing every single one of his ticklish spots on the way, you’re inside his apartment and on your knees, untying his shoes for him, easing them off his feet. You don’t think he can be trusted to lean down to do it on his own without breaking something.

Or himself.

“If you go get ready for bed, I’ll bring you some water?” you suggest, sitting back on your heels, smiling up at him. There’s a weight in the gaze he’s looking down at you with, in the way his tongue darts out over his lips, and how his mouth doesn’t fully close after. You tell yourself he’s definitely only looking at you like this because he’s drunk, because you’re helping him — the boy doesn’t know ass from elbow, right now — but there’s no escaping the fact that your stomach drops a little at his intensity.

“Okay,” he strains after a moment, and you stand up and away from him, kicking off your own shoes. He heads in one direction towards his bedroom, and you move in the other towards his kitchen. 

Stop it, you tell yourself, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water from the faucet onto your face. Stop thinking about him like that. He’s your best friend. Stop it.

But… shit, you can’t get those big brown eyes out of your head. The way he looked down at you, the softness of his brows, the heat radiating off him. There’s nothing you can do to stop the way your thighs press together standing in his kitchen, in clothes that— you realise now— are entirely his. The hoodie. The sweatpants you pulled on. They’re an old pair that he let you steal just after your most recent breakup, when you’d stayed on his couch for a week straight just so you didn’t have to look at how ugly and empty your own apartment was. Everything. Even down to the socks.

You thought it was hard enough hearing that he was going out for dinner to your favourite restaurant with someone who wasn’t you; nothing could have prepared you for standing in his kitchen at three in the morning, hot under the collar over five seconds of tipsy eye contact, knowing he’s getting undressed behind the door you’ve been staring at for… minutes, now. Actual minutes. 

Oh, you think, feeling your blood run cold. 

Oh. 

I want him.

More minutes pass as you stew in this information — in the knowledge that you’re fucking desperate for the man who has been there for you through everything important enough to remember, and probably everything you’ve forgotten, too. The boy who took you to all of your school dances and was the perfect date, the perfect gentleman, the perfect partner. The man who has sat next to you in the doctor’s waiting room more times than you can count, waiting for results and sitting outside appointments that he told you that you were brave enough to book. Seokmin, who has been under your nose this entire fucking time — you want him, the man who went for dinner with his dream woman, today, and he said she was perfect. Acid burns the back of your throat as you fight not to run all the way back down to your car.

Fuck. It gets astronomically worse. I love him.

“Y/n?” you hear, and his whiny, gentle voice glides across the apartment like it’s been mounted on a cloud, blown straight into your ears. It floats around in your brain in the most beautiful way, and you think there could be love-hearts in the reflections on your eyes even despite the stress you’re now under. It occurs to you that his faucet is still running, and you still have two empty glasses sitting on the counter. How long has it been? Get it together. 

“Just a second,” you call back. Your voice breaks as you say it and you can hear him fucking giggle from behind the ajar door to his bedroom. The fluttering in your stomach worsens, and by the time you’ve shut off the tap and you’re walking through to him, you’re wondering if it’s possible for people to grow butterfly gardens inside themselves without noticing. No-one has ever made you feel this nervous, before. 

Breathe, you tell yourself as he comes into view, already snuggled down against his pillows with the top of his bare chest and shoulders visible in the low light. 

Fuck. 

This is the last thing you needed.

“Hi,” he greets you, pushing to sit up with eyes softer than the glow of the setting sun. “I missed you.” 

You stand corrected. That is. 

“You’re such a loser.”

You set his glass down on his bedside and crouch next to him. “Did you brush your teeth?” you ask, and his face transforms from a stupid childish pout at being teased to a devastatingly bright grin. 

This running joke you’ve shared between yourselves since your first night on the town together illuminates him, and he nods, proudly, his hair falling down over his face. You reach up to push a few strands away from his eyes, despite yourself.

“Sure did,” he tells you, and you believe him but you raise a brow anyway. He’s so pretty. With his playful smile, tongue held between his teeth, his nose a little scrunched. Fuck, how can anyone be so pretty?

“So if I go check your toothbrush, right now…” His smile turns into a laugh, his head lifts into your lingering touch until his cheek is fully rested in the palm of your hand. Stupidly, you tell yourself that this could mean something. Maybe he wants to feel you more.  

“You could find out another way,” he says, his voice dropping half an octave as his already heavy eyelids blink slowly at you. It’s a good thing you’re already on your knees because that tone could have you sinking to the ground in a split. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth fleetingly and you think you’re one more line away from melting into the floorboards. 

“You’re so out of it,” you murmur, shaking your head at him. “Did she make you get the oysters? Are you high on aphrodisiacs right now?”

He groans again and rolls onto his back, a hand dramatically coming up to cover his eyes. 

“Stop talking about her,” he whines. “I’m with you. I don’t wanna talk— I don’t wanna think about her right now.”

“Seokmin-…”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, lolling his head to the side, looking at you through impossibly long, dark lashes from between his fingers. “Please.”

You’re not sure what the pull in his voice is in aid of but you force yourself to let it go, pushing yourself up to your feet before you can fall forwards into him.

“I’m gonna head home,” you say, the quiet between you laying thick and heavy against your skin. “Text me when you’re awake tomorrow, okay?”

He contemplates this for a second, frowning; he doesn’t say anything as you start backing towards his bedroom door. Then…

“Please don’t.”

He says it so quietly. So hushed, you think you might have misheard. So delicate, you hold your breath just in case you somehow manage to shatter the moment. 

“Don’t what?” You ask, stopping in your tracks. He breathes deep and props up on one elbow, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t go.”

Glued to the spot, you stare at him. You feel your head tilt to the side without really controlling it, and an eyebrow creeps up your forehead, slowly. 

“I left some lights on in my apartment,” you say feebly, and even though it’s true, a selfish part of you hopes that he’ll still keep trying to talk you around. It won’t take a lot to convince you. It never does. 

“So?” he asks, the duvet slipping just a little further down his upper half, baring more of his chest to you. “Please. I don’t want to be-…”

You swallow, waiting. The cogs in his inebriated brain are surely rotating at a few hundred miles a minute, his eyes almost desperate. Certainly glossy. Absolutely breath-taking.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Your already fragile resolve snaps under the pressure of his words and you’re moving towards his bed before you can stop yourself. 

“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” you say, offering him one last out if he wants it, but Seokmin just shrugs and peels the duvet back for you to slip in beside him.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, and you gesture for him to look away so, at the very least, you can shimmy out of his sweatpants. He does, and you do — a few seconds later, with the garment in question folded neatly on the floor by his bed, you’re pulling the sheets over your legs and burying down against his cushions.

His breathing matches yours inhale for exhale and the more you let yourself think about this, the worse you feel even though maybe you shouldn’t. How many times have you drunkenly shared Seokmin’s bed, or how many times has he shared yours? This isn’t new. Even sober, you’ve been curling up together on the couch to watch movies and sleeping with your heads in each other's laps for years. There’s no reason for the guilt that’s burrowing its way deep into your brain, but you can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard you try.

“Y/n?” he asks after a few minutes of you lying stiff as a pair of boards, a few inches of cold mattress between your wide awake selves, both of you staring up at the ceiling. You hum an acknowledgement, and he clears his throat. “Can I hug you?”

Your heart does something you’re a little bit afraid of, but you nod in the dark anyway, before you realise he can’t really see you now all the lights are off.

“Drink some water first,” you tell him lightly. “Then you can.”

There’s something undeniably nerve-wracking about the sound of him obediently swallowing a few mouthfuls from the glass you brought him earlier, even more-so in the way he sets it back down on his dresser. The bed rustles a little as he moves towards you, the sheets shifting over your bare legs, and then he’s got an arm slung over your waist, his head is on the very edge of his pillow, right next to your own… he slides a leg over one of yours, slotting it between your calves, and before you know it, you’re completely wrapped up in him.

He’s warm, and soft, and his fingertips gently soothe circles into your waist where they’ve slipped just underneath the hem of the sweatshirt you’re still wearing. You hum gently, moving your arm so that it snakes beneath his neck, curling up to wrap around his shoulders. This close, you can smell the cologne he will have put on before meeting his date. It makes you dizzy, slows down the neurons firing away in your brain. You wonder what’s going through his own head — what he’s thinking about, being curled up against your side like this. Does he recognise the slight stuttering in your breathing? How cold you are in contrast to him? Will he even remember this, in the morning? Or will you just wake up on opposite sides of the bed tomorrow, all this just a weird, foggy memory in the dark?

His head burrows slightly closer to you and all of a sudden, you can feel him breathing. Every exhale fans against your neck, right where it feels sweetest; Seokmin breathes through his nose when he’s sober, but through his lips when he’s drunk. You’ve never noticed before. It’s maddening. 

“Comfy?” you ask, your voice dry and unsure, and he wriggles a little with a nod to affirm that yes, he is. Something about that makes your cheeks go hot.

“Always sleep better with you,” he murmurs, and your face grows even warmer. You tell yourself he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just drunk. It doesn’t help.

“Then sleep,” you say as his hand moves just slightly further up beneath the hoodie, the tips of his fingers gently tickling your lowest rib. You have to fight back a whine. “I’m here. You can sleep.”

“Thank you, y/n,” he breathes, and you turn your head: now your eyes have adjusted to the low light, you can sort of make out his features, so very close to you. This proves to be a mistake almost instantly, but you can’t look away. His eyes are closed now; you’re glad. He looks too sweet. Too peaceful.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

“Seokmin…”

“No, I mean — everything.”

You move your hand up slightly, fingers playing with the strands of his hair at the top of his neck, and he whimpers softly at the touch. You freeze, and he nuzzles back against your hand to beg you to keep going, so you do.

“You can’t thank me for everything,” you tease him, and he chuckles breathlessly, his palm now laying flat across your rib cage, curling around your side. Holding you. Claiming you, just for now.

“Can,” he protests, and you shake your head. 

“Nuh-uh. Against the rules.”

“What rules?”

“My rules.”

“I didn’t know you had rules.”

“I’ve got hundreds,” you tease, threading your fingers through his strands and gently massaging his scalp. Another whine from him, but you don’t stop. Especially not when he hugs you closer, arm and leg both tightening around you.

“Hundreds?”

“Mhm. Maybe even thousands.”

“Well. Fuck.”

You breathe a laugh at him, and he laughs back; within a few seconds, you’ve both dissolved into giggles, and Seokmin has squirmed even closer until he’s half-covering you, actively chortling into your covered collarbone.

“You’re s’posed to be getting to sleep,” you sigh as his own laughter picks back up following a few seconds of deep breathing and quiet.

“I can’t!” He says. You can feel the pout in his own voice, even with his face hidden. When did he end up practically on top of you? When did your arm slip down to around his waist? 

“You have to. You’re gonna feel so shitty tomorrow if you don’t.”

“I know. M’probably gonna feel shitty anyway, though.”

“Come on. Close your eyes. Count back from a hundred. You can do it.”

It falls silent again, and you delusionally tell yourself that maybe it’s working. Until…

“Can you lie on your side?” He asks, and you sigh dramatically but nod anyway: as he peels himself off you, you roll over, facing the wall in the foetal position. He’s right back against you in a blink though, legs tucked up behind yours, trying to find your hand under the quilt.

“S’this okay?” He asks as he accidentally brushes your thigh in his search, fingers lacing through your own when he finally succeeds. Your now joined hands work their way into the hoodie’s front pocket, and everything starts buzzing when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Y-yeah,” you swallow. “S’good.”

“Good,” he mumbles. A few deep breaths later, his voice rumbles against your earlobe again. “You looked so pretty for me tonight, y/n. Dressed up in my clothes — you’re so pretty.”

“Go to sleep,” you whimper, grateful at least that at this angle that he doesn’t see how your face scrunches up, how wide your smile is, how ridiculously good he makes you feel.

Euphoria. This is euphoria; you never want it to end.

“Count for me,” he asks, dropping his head down so his brows rest against your back, now. So you do.

“A hundred… ninety nine… ninety eight… ninety seven…”

His breathing is slow and his grip on your hand is slack by the time you reach eighty three. You doze off too, not very far behind.

thank u for reading all the way to the end!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always appreciated<3

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Taking Deuce To Build-A-Bear

Reader/Yuu is female

Masterlist

“Come on, handsome,” you beam at your boyfriend, laughter lacing your words as you tug his arm forwards into the mall and lead the way to your mystery location. Deuce chuckles fondly at your enthusiasm, finding your youthful joy absolutely adorable. The pure elation glowing on your countenance makes it impossible for him to even think about suppressing his smile (not that he would ever dare to). 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he smiles back at you, letting you drag him around your homeworld without a care in the world. Right now he’s too busy relishing in the fuzzy warmth that the comfort your hand clasped in his brings. He did ask you where you were taking him when you had first started this outing but your only reply was a cheeky grin, placing a finger on your mouth as you mischievously whispered, “it’s a secret.”

He didn’t really care where this date was, honestly. All he knows is that if only the thought of it makes you this happy then he can be patient. With that lambent smile, you could push him off a cliff and he’d die a happy man.

“Alright,” your voice cuts in through his thoughts. He looks at you and sees you buzzing with excitement, bouncing on your feet as your eyes sparkle with eagerness, “we’re here. Ta da!”

His eyes follow the length of your arm to see what you were gesturing towards and he finds himself looking at a technicoloured store with vibrant crimsons and sunflower yellows dancing along the exterior. Inside of a large, brightly lit window, he could see a display table exhibiting an array of smiling stuffed animals all dressed in colourful clothes. With its lively music, toddler picture book-esque vibe and majority population of children that appeared to be under twelve, he had the feeling that this wasn’t the type of place two teenagers would go on a date.

“Is this,” he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, looking at your still beaming face with the expression of someone who hadn’t quite caught on the punchline of a joke, “are we at a toy store?”

“‘A toy store?’” you repeated with mock outrage, “it’s not just ‘a toy store’. It’s Build-A-Bear Workshop! Where best friends are made! I’ll have you know, handsome, that in this world, entry into such a respected and renowned institution is a rite of passage, a coming of age if you will.”

He couldn’t help but feel amusement at your giddiness and he didn’t even think about resisting the urge to wrap an arm around your shoulder and bring you closer to him so that he can press a loving kiss onto your forehead, the giggle he receives in return makes him want to do it again but, with all of the willpower he can muster, he says, “Alright then. So I guess this is where our date is then?”

“Yep,” you respond with a chirp, “I thought that it would be really cute if we made teddy bears and dressed them up. I passed by here the other day and I thought of you. So, do you like it?”

“To be honest, I’m not really sure what ‘it’ is,” he admits with an embarrassed smile, “but if it makes you happy then it makes me happy.”

The resolution in his words made you smile and you pecked him on the cheek. After taking a moment to appreciate the pink that blossomed across his face, you took his hand and pulled him into the store.

“So the point of Build-A-Bear is to choose a teddy that you want, make it nice and cuddly and fluffy, take part in a Frankenstein-esque reanimation ritual and then name it and dress it up so it’s nice and warm.”

“Alright,” he nods once and then pauses, “wait, what was the one in the middle?”

“Make it nice and cuddly and fluffy,” you respond, “now, here’s our selection. Do you have any preferences?”

He surveys the wall in front of him, taking in the sight of smiling stuffed animals and the rows of unstuffed plushies that filled the baskets, “I’m not really sure.”

“That’s alright, we’ll figure it out,” you say, “did you have any teddies when you were younger.”

“Well,” his cheeks darkened as he looked away from your expectantly smiling face, “I had a stuffed white rabbit when I was little but I quit playing with it when I was like seven. To be honest, I kind of like those big stuffed animals you get in toy stores but I’ve never really been able to ask anyone.”

You make a mental note to ask his mother to send you as many baby Deuce pictures as she can and then you also make another one to take this boy to IKEA so that you could introduce him to and purchase the perfection that is the blahaj™.

“Well, the ones here are all the same size but the rabbit thing I can work with,” you reach into a basket and take out some fleecy brown cloth, “the brown bunny is a classic. What do you think?”

He held the tan material in his hands, letting the warm and fluffy fabric gently rub between his thumb and fingers, and glanced at its stuffed counterpart on the display shelf. It was so soft and loveable, so much like you that he had to accept it, “I love it.”

“Perfect,” you grin and take another for yourself,“now, onwards, to the hazing.”

“The what?”

You bring him to the next station where a lady wearing a white shirt and cobalt blue apron with a cartoon bear on it was sitting beside a large blue and yellow machine with a big window showing heaps and heaps of fluffy white stuffing getting churned around and around. 

“Hello there,” she greets you amiably, “will it be just these two then?”

“Yes, please.”

“Wonderful. Now can one of you just hop on over here and step onto the pedal so we can get your new friends stuffed?”

To show Deuce how it’s done you step forwards and step onto the black pedal in front of you. You watch his eyes widen as the woman attaches one of the bunnies to the pole sticking out of the machine and it plumps up to full huggability. When she calls him over for his turn, he turns to you and you just smile supportively, give his hand a squeeze and gesture to where you were standing.  

Next, you take two small red material hearts from the heart shaped box attached to the side of the stuffing machine and pass one along to Deuce, who has finished getting his plushie filled, before eagerly asking the lady manning the station, “can we do the heart ceremony, please? It’s my boyfriend’s first time.”

Her eyes glitter as she nods her assent, clearly excited at what’s to come. Knowing what was going to happen next, you place your phone on the honey coloured apparatus opposite you, propping it up so that you and your boyfriend are distinctly in the frame of your recording camera. 

Deuce looks at you curiously, cheeks still a little rosy from hearing you call him your boyfriend, and notices your suspiciously playful smile, “what are you recording for?”

“For memories” is what you say.

‘To send to your mother’ is what you mean.

Okay both of you,” the employee said brightly, “first I need you to warm up those hearts so they’re nice and warm and toasty.”

You enthusiastically complied, rubbing the crimson fabric between your palms as the older lady demonstrated. Beside you, Deuce did the same but with his eyebrows pinching slightly in confusion.

“Now rub it on your heart so it's full of love,” she continued.

You both did what she asked and your smile did little to hide the laughter that was threatening to burst out of you at the cautious and tentative expression on his face.

“Now rub it on your cheek so it’s always smiling.”

You figured she was also getting a kick out of Deuce as well and you wondered what it would be like to be paid to mess with people.

“Now rub it on your arms so it’s as strong as you.”

“Hmm,” you muse innocently, “I don't think my arms would be strong enough.”

Deuce goes pink when you then turn to him and rub your heart on his bicep, “that’s much better.”

“N-no way,” he stutters, completely flustered, and in retaliation, he rubs his heart against your forearm, “you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

“You can carry more than double the weight I can,” you counter.

“I’m not talking about physical strength,” he shoots back, his cerulean eyes looking deep into yours.

Now it’s your turn to get flustered as you simply mutter, “oh.”

The employee claps her hands, instantly snapping both of you out of whatever was going on, “Alright you two, now hold them in your hands, close your eyes and make a wish.”

You clasp the little heart between your hands and do just that, your mind drifting off to thoughts of Deuce and his kind eyes and warm smile, before you open your eyes and look back at your boyfriend.

Once the both of you are looking at the lady for the next instructions, she concludes with, “now, finally, give it a big kiss so they know you love them.”

You kiss yours and then Deuce tugs on your sleeve and shyly hands his over to you with an expectant smile, so you look at him knowingly and press your lips against his heart as well before the both of you give them to get inserted into your plushies. 

As you stop the recording on your phone and both of your hearts have been placed inside your bunnies, the employee swiftly stitches them up, nice and tight, before handing them back to you with a smile and a cheerful “enjoy yourselves.”

The two of you thank her before you turn around and grin at Deuce, “okay, clothes time.” 

With one hand hugging your new companion protectively against you and the other clasped in your boyfriend’s, you drag him towards the clothing section before gesturing to the miniature garments.

“We need to dress them up now,” you explain, “why don’t we look for something together for your little guy first?”

“Alright,” he smiles back at you, “I don’t really know what I’d want though.”

Your eyes scan the hangers in front of you, “well, there’s got to be something - ah ha!”

You reach over to grab a hanger and excitedly present it to the dark haired boy. On it was a black leather jacket, very reminiscent of the one he’d drape over your shoulders whenever you visit his hometown, “look! Doesn’t it look a lot like the one you have?”

Admittedly, the thought of the adorable smiling bunny in his arms donning such an outfit was a funny one but his nose wrinkles in distaste, “well, yeah, but I don’t think I’d want this little guy to wear something that has such bad ties to my past.”

You lower the hanger, your smile decreasing ever so lightly. You should’ve known. You were aware of Deuce’s self-loathing for his past and he was forever thinking back on the shameful actions of his younger self with disgust and guilt and you saw how the weight of trying to redeem and prove himself would rest heavily on his shoulders. You’re always ready to talk about his insecurities, to comfort him and to show him how much you care for him and your love for him was because of his past, not in spite of it. Instead of addressing his regretful look like you usually would do, seeing as such a deep topic shouldn’t really be done during a cute date in a very public Build-A-Bear, you simply place the jacket back where it was and let another outfit catch your eye, one that you were sure that he would definitely like. 

You immediately unhook its hanger from the rod and show it to him. At the sight of the three piece police uniform, consisting of a smart light blue shirt and tie with a dark blue tie that was paired with navy trousers and a police hat, his eyes brightened, “is that a-?”

“A police uniform?” you happily supplied, “yep, it is. Since you told me that it was your dream to be one back during the Starsending event, I figured it would be nice for your bunny to share the same goal and to remind you that I know you can achieve it.”

Deuce looks at you with an expression you know you will be unpacking late into the night, his eyes filled with wonder and reverence as he stares at you as though you’re something impossible, something he’s never seen before.

You swallow and look away, once again reminding yourself that you are out in broad daylight and that you don’t think the young mall-goers or their parents would appreciate the two of you doing what you reserve for closed doors. Beside you, you hear Deuce clear his throat before unsubtly suggesting, “why don’t you get that one?”

Your eyes trail to where he’s pointing and land on a shimmery white angel dress, complete with silver wings and a halo, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself.

“What?” he reacts to your fond laughter with a look of both confusion and defensiveness, “I think it fits you perfectly.”

“In your eyes maybe,” you respond, “mine, not so much. How about something a bit more-oh my days, no way!”

Instantly, you get drawn towards something peeking out of the clearance bin and you find yourself holding the Holy Grail. In your hands lies an Alice in Wonderland themed dress with a rounded checkered pattern collar with a black bow in the centre, glittery black spades running down the middle of the bodice and glittery black and red card suit symbols that ran along the bottom of its sparkly blue tutu-like skirt.

“It’s perfect!” you exclaim, looking eagerly to Deuce who watches your joy with fond amusement, “and they’re both blue as well so we’ll have sort of matching outfits.”

He nods, smiling adoringly at you, “that’s great!”

After you get some black trainers for Deuce’s bunny and some glittery black flats to match the sparkly black bow that came with your dress (you also grab a jacket and a cute pair of wellies that you just couldn’t not buy for Grim) you make your way to the naming station. You then print out your certificates, pay for your items and happily leave the store, one of each of your hands clasped together and the other one swinging a bulky white cardboard cub condo.

“So~” you stop him near the entrance with a hopeful lilt in your voice, “what do you think?”

“I loved it,” he tells you, smiling radiantly at you, “definitely one of the best dates we’ve been on.”

“Well, I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself. I certainly did. And now you’ve got your own little police guy to cheer you on,” you jerk your head towards the box in his hand.

“Actually,” Deuce’s face was pink as he smiled at you bashfully, “do you mind if we switch?”

“Hmm,” you look at him perplexed.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe, it might be a cute couple thing if we had each others’. We don’t have to if you don’t want to but I thought it might be a nice thing to have to remember each other by since we don’t really see each other that often.”

Without a question, you hand over your box to him, “I think it would be nice as well. Got to admit though, what are you going to tell Ace and your dormmates once you show up to your dorm room with a toy bunny wearing a sparkly dress.”

“That my girlfriend gave it to me on a date,” he answered resolutely as he traded his box for yours, “besides, she’ll fit right in at Heartslabyul - she’s already dressed like us.”

“True. Well, I certainly feel much safer now that I have a Deuce made and approved police rabbit to protect me. Thank you, handsome,” you smile lovingly up at him and peck his cheek. He slings an arm over your shoulders and pulls you against him in response, letting your head rest against him as you both walk onwards, “Alright, next on my list: food. Come on, let me introduce you to the delights of my world’s food courts.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

I have a sickfic prompt for you!

Okay, so imagine Peter sick in bed. Tony babysitting because May has to work. Before May leaves she mentions to Tony, “Can you grab his pjs out of the laundry? He always wants a particular pair when he’s feeling sick-“

And Tony doesn’t think anything of it. So he goes to grab Peter’s clothes and sees the pjs…

Are a tourist shirt and Hello Kitty pants

This ask came in all the way back in March. It was a fun idea so I held into, hoping to eventually turn it into a mini-fic. Well, friends. Today is the day. Have a big dose of soft, guilty Tony and sick, cuddly-warm Peter.

Hello Kitty Pajamas - 826 Words

“May! May, I’m here!” Tony called as he let himself into the Parkers’ apartment. He’d received a message an hour prior requesting his presence. Specifically, so he could babysit a significantly ill spider-baby while his aunt went in for a mandatory shift. He’d hesitated at first because was he really the best choice? May had assured him there was no one else. And that even if there were, she was sure Peter wouldn’t want anyone but him. An unfamiliar warmth had bloomed in his chest, prompting him to obtain his keys.

“Sorry!” May called from down the hall. “I'm sorry! He sweat right through his clothes. I was changing the sheets, so you didn’t have to.”

Tony pulled a face without meaning to. A slight laugh escaped May’s lips as a result.

“He’s in the shower now. That should help with a lot of the congestion.” she paused, sighed and twisted her lip between her teeth. “I know he’s old enough to take care of himself. I just- with his fever going up and down so rapidly I didn’t want him to be here alone. Just in case.”

“It’s fine, May. You know I don’t mind spending time with him,” he said, keeping his voice as steady and nonchalant as possible. “Thanks for changing the sheets, though. Housekeeping isn’t really my thing.” They both knew, without a doubt, that he’d do it again if needed. But neither of them commented on it.

"Shoot! How did it get so late? I really need to get going.” He watched May scramble to find her purse and keys. “His favorite pajamas are in the dryer. Can you grab those for him?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks again, Tony,” May said, already halfway out the door. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Tony smiled and waved to her toward the hall. “Any time, May. You know that.”

Once she was gone, he located the laundry area and opened the dryer. Inside was a heap of towels of varying sizes. Among them, he managed to stop a white shirt and some pink fuzzy pants. Although it wasn’t until he hauled them out that he realized what they were. Hello Kitty was patterned across the bottoms, and the top was the over-sized tourist shirt. He suddenly realized it was the outfit he’d purchased the kid directly after their first argument. He blew out a breath as an image of Peter, wearing that exact outfit with tears running down his cheeks popped into his head. Guilt began to swirl in his gut. He dug around in the dryer hoping to find different pajamas. He couldn’t fathom how those could possibly be Peter’s favorite. Unsuccessful, he clutched the shirt and pants tightly in his fist and carried them to the restroom door.

“Pete?” he called. “I’m putting your PJ’s outside the door.”

“Thanks,” Peter rasped, coughing harshly after. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Take your time, Bud. No rush.”

Tony sat down on the couch. His leg bounced and his fingers tapped on his knee as he thought more about that decidedly horrible day. The whole thing has been his fault, really. If he’d just told the kid he’d called the FBI… He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand down his face. God, he’d been a jerk. He shouldn't have shouted in the kid’s face and really shouldn't have taken the suit. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the bathroom door creak open.

“Hey,” Peter said as he rounded the corner. “Sorry, May made you come.”

Tony swallowed with difficulty. The sight of the pajamas making his stomach churn. “I-”

“Are you okay?” Peter interjected.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Tony quipped. Peter continued to frown. “I’m fine. Just- thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Definitely,” Tony agreed, then sucked in a breath. “May said those are your favorite pajamas.”

Peter hummed positively and dropped down onto the couch. “They’re comfortable.”

Tony's brow furrowed. “They don’t make you think about that day?”

“Sometimes,” Peter shrugged. “But mostly they make me think about you.”

A warm wet head landed on Tony’s shoulder. Water soaked through his shirt. He found he didn’t really mind. “I’m so sorry, Kid,” he whispered. “I really didn’t handle that situation very well. I didn’t communicate with you the way I should have, I lost my temper when that backfired, then I took it all out on you. I shouldn't have done that. Forgive me?”

“Already did,” Peter yawned. “Like- a long time ago.”

It shouldn’t have been that easy, Tony thought to himself. But Peter is such a good kid… he leaned his cheek against the top of Peter’s head and sighed. “Tired?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t feel so good.”

“Well, let’s get you into your bed, hmm? May changed the sheets and everything.”

Peter nodded and started toward his bedroom. Tony followed behind, smiling softly as the kid exhaustedly crawled under the covers. Astonishingly, the sight of the pajamas didn’t bother him so much anymore. He traversed the room and ran his fingers through his kid’s hair.

“Sleep well, Kiddo,” he murmured. “I’ll be out there if you need me.”

[wilbursprincess]

“Damn, You’re Hard as a Rock!”

Simpbur x Female Reader

Warnings: Reader walks in on Simpbur jerking off to a picture of her, handjob, sub!Simpbur (when is he not tbh), masturbation

Another one I yoinked from the vault! At this point, we all know my soft spot for Simpbur, so I wrote this for one of the days in Fictober. It’s one of my personal favorites so I hope you enjoy! Been neglecting my vault due to my irl friend informing me he found my blog (ily dw) and the sheer number of asks as of late!

Smut under cut!

“Will, I’m home!” I call out, slipping off my coat and hanging up my purse. I peek my head into the living room, expecting to see him watching a movie, waiting up for me, but nothing.

The only place I haven’t looked is in our bedroom, and as I walk towards it, the door is shut, light spilling under the crack at the bottom of the door.

I push open the door, sighing. “Sorry I was so late, the bus took ages, and-” Cutting myself off abruptly when I look up, seeing exactly why Wilbur didn’t respond when I got home.

Jeans around his ankles, my favorite tube of hand cream laying next to him, one hand holding his phone, the glowing screen displaying whatever he’s getting off too, the other hand working up and down his lotion-slick cock.

“You’re home!” He says, an embarrassed smile growing on his face.

Laughing, I sit down on the bed next to him. “You missed me, huh?”

Wilbur nods sheepishly, spinning around his phone so I can see he’s been looking at a photo of me, stretched out by a pool in a lime-green bikini.

“Well, I’m flattered,” I say, grabbing the tube of hand cream. “Do you want me to-”

He frantically nods, letting go of his cock, and it lightly slaps against his stomach. Gently kissing him on the forehead before slicking up my hand, slowly starting to work up and down his length.

“Damn, you’re hard as a rock!” I comment, twisting my thumb over his tip and making him groan. “You really did miss me!”

“I tried to wait until you got home,” Wilbur pants, breaking off with a low moan. “Sorry.”

I shake my head, giving him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I love giving you a hand.”

Wilbur grins, a blissful expression in his pleasure-glazed eyes. “Fuck, why does it feel so much better when you do it?”

His hips keep jumping up, trying to thrust into my hand as I give him long, slow strokes, rubbing my thumb on the sensitive spot on the underside of the head. Wilbur’s breaths are coming faster, moans and other beautiful noises dripping from his mouth more and more as he gets closer to his climax.

“Gonna cum for me?” I coo, speeding up my hand and making him whine, hips jutting up into my hand. “What was that, Will? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

Wilbur whimpers, cock twitching in my hand. “Yes, fuck.”

A few more pumps of my hand, and he’s spilling all over my hand, drops landing on his exposed stomach and even a few on the sheets.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, the post-orgasm haze making him cuddly as usual. “I missed you.”

Laughing, I squirm away from his embrace. “No! You’ll get cum all over my dress! I’ll get you a towel.”

I toss him the one I keep in my nightstand for times just like this, then head over to Wilbur’s closet, swapping my dress for one of his t-shirts, changing from heels into fuzzy socks.

Crawling back onto our bed, he’s taken off his jeans, just in a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt. Wilbur wraps me into his outstretched arms, letting me swing a leg over his waist and snuggle into his chest.

“I love you so much, baby girl,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead. “You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

My heart swells with the soft glow of love, and I run my fingers through his fluffy brown curls. “I love you too, Will.

[waterflowing-under-ground]

I've seen some posts from people in the Witcher fandom (usually who are into both the Netflix show and the books) being confused as to why book fans think Geralt being mean to Dandelion (Jaskier) is a canon divergence in the TV show, when in the books, there are times when Geralt can be very cutting and even a bit mean to Dandelion.

My takeaway from their relationship in the books is that this conflict has the purpose of developing both of their characters (and serving as allegory because we KNOW Mr. Sapkowski loves allegory, and we love him for it! Or at least I do), and there's context around why they can be this way with each other. There's a rich history in this friendship, a comfort and casualness with one another that one wouldn't have with someone they weren't that close with, which in a lot of relationships comes with a safety to BE cutting and blunt with each other at times and know that having these conflicts is not going to mean an end to their relationship. They tend to move on from their arguments and all is forgiven (sometimes after a period of distance, but that's also normal after a hard conversation I feel - both parties sometimes need to process and lick their wounds, or wounded egos), and it's implied (at least to me) that their friendship is an "always" thing, even when they do blow up at each other, and even when the things they say are harsh.

Furthermore, there's so much "off screen" (off-page?) time between them that we don't get to see. But their closeness is implied by others and themselves throughout the entire saga and the short stories. And the things they say to other people indicate how important they are to one another as well.

I do want to point out that my personal take on their relationship is tempered by me being in my 40's and having more than one long term relationship (namely my closest and longest-running friendship which is going on 25 years now, and my marriage which is almost 15 years old this year) where there IS that familiarity and "safety" to sometimes have cutting conversations, or at least "brutally honest" conversations, telling each other things we might not want to hear, but perhaps need to.

My best friend, for example, saw me through a 6-year relationship that was actually abusive. She felt that she had to tell me some truths that I needed to hear, and while some things she told me were hard to hear during that period, I'm so glad she felt safe and comfortable enough with me to be honest about what she saw happening.

She is not a fuzzy-wuzzy cuddly person. But she is MY person. She has been my rock for nearly a quarter century. I would actually trust this woman with my life. I would donate a kidney to this woman if I were a match and she needed one. We are not cutesy fuzzy with each other (although most of the time we're warm, generous, and supportive like a certain witcher and minstrel duo). She's not the type to say "I love you" out loud, so we don't do that because I know that would make her uncomfortable (she's even like this with her partner of several years - some people just aren't as demonstrative with saying the WORDS, but it doesn't mean they don't FEEL it). But we LOVE each other dearly. We don't have to actually say "I love you" to say I love you to one another.

Because we're all human, we can even at times slip up and not be as tactful and sensitive with each other as we should be, or even in a moment of vulnerability get angry and snap (which is completely Geralt in Baptism of Fire). Some of the conflicts I've had with my best friend and my spouse can look a lot like what we encounter in the books between Geralt and Dandelion when they do get into a heated discussion or argument. But these relationships are, to me, "safe" and "always" in my mind and heart. I know we'd have to do something truly *despicable* and abusive to one another for those relationships to end entirely.

What I think people are saying, when they say, "Book Geralt would never *be mean* to Dandelion," isn't that Geralt could never *literally* be mean. It's that the portrayal of their friendship and the conflicts they could have were lacking any kind of context whatsoever. Furthermore, the Netflix show didn't make us believe they were ever MUTUAL friends who loved each other (mutually) in the first place, didn't do enough to build up their relationship and show its history and why they're so bonded to each other, why they're proud of each other, show us HOW the "opposites attract" thing actually works in their relationship, how they add value to each other's lives by having different but complementary personalities, why they had such a strong connection in the first place, why they loved each other, why they enjoyed and valued each other's company and place in their lives.

Instead they made it seem like Geralt was simply tolerating this silly little guy who gets him into trouble all the time, and then out of nowhere you get a tirade of verbal abuse that goes on about how this silly little guy ruined his entire life, and basically a "get out of my life" tirade which is extremely hurtful and broke the show character's heart (understandably enough). Geralt also punches Dandelion in the show, and while they have their share of verbal arguments in the books, Geralt never lays a hand on Dandelion, and even goes out of his way to protect him and save him from violence and physical danger multiple times throughout the entire saga.

Geralt's attempts to push the Hanza away in Baptism of Fire are often cited as the example of Geralt being mean, by Netflix viewers who are confused by book fans saying Geralt being mean isn't canon.

But I think book fans pretty universally agree that Geralt's "meanness" in Baptism of Fire actually stems partially from him wanting to protect the other members of the Hanza from danger, and partially from feeling like he's messed everything up so badly he doesn't *deserve* help or support, or that he can't *truly atone* for Ciri's separation and unhappiness unless he completes the mission entirely alone.

He tries to emotionally push everyone away by being, well, a jerk (which if one is looking to push people away, that can definitely be an effective way of doing so). But his friends see right through this defense mechanism, seem to intuitively know where it's coming from, and seem to understand what he's going through, and are not afraid to call him out on it!

They rightfully roast him for it, but in a way that to me comes across as loving, albeit tough love. To me it's in the vein of, "We see right through your nonsense, we know why you're being like this, because you think you're leading us right into harm's way and you don't want to do that, plus you're losing your mind because you're in a lot of pain and you've lost your daughter and de facto wife who you were JUST beginning to mend fences with before she and your daughter were ripped away from you, so you're freaking out and not being rational. This isn't going to work on us, we're not going to leave you, so just sit down, chop these veggies, and eat this fish soup with us, and shut up you silly man." My favorite moment is when Milva makes the remark about how wolves don't actually hunt alone. Wolves are, after all, pack animals who work as a team to survive.

Modern toxic masculinity harkens a lot to his idea of "alpha males" and "lone wolves" which is total fallacy and nonsense and runs completely counter to what real life is actually like. People, like wolves, are communal animals. We literally need one another to survive. Interdependence, not independence, is the optimal way of being human. Having love, comeraderie, and support are not just frivolities, they're necessities!

To close this, I think the heart of why book fans take issue with this portrayal of their friendship is that Dandelion and Geralt are the longest running thread through the series, each other's "always" person (which in a long lifetime often IS someone's closest platonic relationship, whether that be a chosen best friend or a close sibling for example), and they're so instrumental to each other's character development, that to bludgeon that in the show just runs so counter to what I feel as a fan of this series is one of its central themes, which is that nobody actually CAN do everything alone and without support, that being isolated and alone really leads down a dark path for us as human beings. By stripping away this piece of the story (Dandelion and Geralt's friendship in its true nature, not a contrived one) it fails to adapt the story on that level.

Keep in mind that these are just my opinions. If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

[hype-blue-fixation]

Spying from the Bayou (SFW tickle ficlet)

One sided radiostatic and implied platonic radiorose.

Vox spies on Alastor doing self tickling while talking to Rosie through his voodoo dolls.

He was hopeless. Obsessed. Pitiable. Always one step behind no matter how far forward he thought he was. His name was Vox. Even today, he thought he'd won some sparkling victory for having snuck a camera into the Radio Demon's tardis room. Normally he would be met with fuzzy images of the demon from where his stupid outdated power messed with the technology.

Now he watched crystal clear as Alastor entered, locking his door with comically sized chains and locks. Whatever he was about to do was something he really didn't want anyone to see, and Vox sat on the edge of his seat to drink every second of it. Perhaps some blackmail or a dirty secret would come of his spying.

Alastor began unbuttoning his jacket. Then suddenly his clothes poofed away into a closet, replaced by a vintage women's night gown and pants. No doubt a gift from Rosie. Alastor yawned and stretched his way into bed. Fluffy fur poured out from the gown collar, getting thinner toward his hands and hooves. Vox's heart melted at how soft the radio demon looked. Not at all like his usual conniving and murderous self. The TV demon was already drooling over the headlines. Slandering his rival's foreboding reputation. Imprinting the image of a delicate fawn into the eyes of the public.

He continued watching as Alastor cozied up in bed, pulling his pillows around him and summoning plushy voodoo dolls to his side. God, how much better could this get? He hugged the dolls close and picked at their stitched faces, absent-mindedly tearing the thread out as he stared at the ceiling. It was obvious his mind was wandering in far away places. If only Vox could see those thoughts.

The claws that had been picking at the doll eventually reached up to touch the corners of his own permanent smile. Picking away as if he could remove the invisible thread in his face, too. A small pang of guilt tugged at Vox's heart. A feeling he quickly overwhelmed with quips about how weak and dumb Alastor looked. Vulnerable. Exploitable. How so very exploitable.

Alastor suddenly rearranged himself into a sitting position. His dolls close, friends that had no choice but to do his bidding. Stay exactly how he posed them with their stitched up grins. Then he began talking to them as if they were alive or possessed the ghost of someone special.

“Rosie, dear. Are you there?”

Of course it would be Rosie. Who else? The dolls didn't make a sound, but the way that Alastor smiled…genuinely smiled with his eyes…made it seem like he could hear her voice through them.

“That's good to hear. Unfortunately my day hasn't been quite so bright. I wish I could come see you. I'm in one of…those moods. How do you call it? Yes, that word.”

Vox leaned forward as if he could step into the room himself and hear the other side of the conversation. How frustrating.

Alastor went quiet and brought his hands up to his neck. At first looking like he was trying to strangle himself, but a shift in the camera view revealed that he was spidering his hands from the top and bottom of his neck. Lightly scratching his nails across the pale, sun deficient skin. His eyes fluttered closed, his head tilting from one side to the other as if he couldn't decide which side felt better.

A deep sigh of genuine relaxation echoed in the large room. The hands moved from his neck and took turns rolling up the gown sleeve of the opposite arm. Exposing more skin and thin fur that faded out into a beautiful shade of ebony. One hand scribbled on the underside of the other forearm. Extremely slow and teasy, all the way from the elbow to wrist and back. His eyes opened, but his gaze floated off into some unknown space.

When he switched arms, his body twitched and his breath hitched. Whatever he was doing, it made him feel good. Relaxed. Cuddly. As his claws kept dancing around, he melted against his bed and hid his face in a pile of plushy dolls. Hiding the genuine curls to the edge of his smile, muffling the soft giggles and whines that threatened to be heard.

Vox was livid. He wanted to see that dumb silly little grin with a spaced out stare. Catch those disgustingly adorable sounds on record to broadcast all over Hell. Even when Alastor wasn't aware of the camera, he still made his likeness impossible to capture.

Out of what seemed like nowhere, Alastor removed his gown top. Revealing an upper body full of fluffy, curling fur. One arm tucked behind his head as the opposite hand explored with tickly touches. The fleshy underside of his upper arm, toward the armpit, down the side, and back up again. His body jerked when certain spots were grazed along, especially close to the armpit and over his ribcage. Sometimes even pulling out a sweet little giggly hum.

Vox wanted more. To have his claws dancing on those sensitive spots, eliciting those sickeningly adorable little sounds. Imagine the blackmail. Imagine the stories. Imagine his own exploding heart and popping circuits from how cute it was. He could feel his screen heating up to a point where the fans nearly kicked on.

“Rosie, shush! You're not helping! Shut up!” Alastor playfully bantered, saying mean things in the purest way. Whatever she was whispering through the dolls, given that this whole thing wasn't just imagination, had the radio demon's face turning a healthy shade of pink. He switched to the other side, playing with a fresh set of nerves. 

His little hooves shivered and clicked against each other as he tried very hard not to break into a giggle fit. His smile growing with his need to hide it in the pillows and dolls.

“No,” Vox whispered at the screen, “you're going to show me that ugly little smile.”

As if he could hear him and obey his command, Alastor turned his face up. The smile completely true and bright, not hiding any shifty schemes behind its sharp teeth. Only genuine joy and fuzzy feelings. This only happened by accident, but Vox felt like Alastor was looking directly at him. Oh how his digital heart leapt at the mere fleeting thought. Hopeless.

Alastor's claws moved from his sides and both settled on his soft belly. Scribbling up the sides, over the top. His fingers moving in such an eye-catching and fascinating way. Like spider legs barely contacting his skin. it almost looked like art. The reactions even more so.

Little fawn-like bleats. Biting his lip to dam up the embarrassing noise. His hooves still clicking and kicking ever so slightly.

A single claw circled around his belly button, and that seemed to be the absolute end of his patience. He melted into a pile of giggling goo. Draping the idle arm over his mouth to muffle the sound. Such a shield could only hide so much. Eventually his giggles and sighs rose higher.

Locked away emotions bubbled up inside Vox. The desire to make those giggles fill up that entire room. To see his rival reduced to a fuzzy mass of useless goo. Unable to look him in the eyes because he was too busy hiding in dolls and pillows. Exploiting the demon wasn't even part of these strange desires. What could these feelings even be called? They were too pure for him to apply any label he knew.

Alastor's self teasing came to an end. He stretched out on his bed and sighed deeply. Fully relaxed like a baby in a warm cradle. And for the first time, Vox actually witnessed the overlord sleep. Gripping tightly to his voodoo dolls. Curled up in a fetal position with his head folded back on his body uncomfortably. His eyes stayed wide open, but Vox somehow knew he was sleeping inside that empty head. Creepy. Unsettling. Adorable. Charming.

After witnessing that pure little scene, Vox couldn't bring himself to do any of the things he'd originally planned. Exposing Alastor in this way felt morally wrong, like stealing a baby's candy or kicking an old woman who's already on the ground. At least he forever had the footage to go back and watch again and again. To obsess over.

Except that he forgot to hit the record button.

What a shame.