#this was supposed to be a silly doodle and then it got out of hand but like. oh well

[extralively]

Catoru

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character Silliness, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Satoru is turned into a cat, Crack Treated Seriously 3,782 words Also posted on AO3 Summary: Satoru gets turned into a cat, and Yura suddenly has to catsit the white furry menace until he turns back. (Normally I use images from the manga or anime for the banner above, but this time yes, I did just sketch out this Catoru doodle myself for this lmao)

.......So. I got a request to write a fic where Satoru gets turned into a cat, and while I didn't think I'd do it at first.... the ideas just came to me lmao. So here we are! This is basically just silliness and with minimal proofreading, and as usual, I ended up writing A Little Too Much of what was supposed to be something quick and stupid lol

This oneshot is part of a series, but it can be read as standalone if you just want to see Satoru being a furry menace. I also wouldn't consider this canon to the main fic (or maybe do if you want lmao), but it takes place *before* Satoru and Yura get together (so around 2014-ish). Enjoy this silly fun!

“...are you being serious right now?” Yura asked, completely incredulous as she stared at the sight in front of her.

Shoko snorted next to her. “It does sound like a joke, doesn’t it?”

“Meow.”

Yura stared.

Satoru got turned into a cat.

Satoru got turned into a cat.

“...Fucking hell,” she let out, rubbing a hand over her face.

“It’s temporary,” Shoko said, leaning against the file cabinet as they both stared at the white-haired, blue-eyed cat on top of her office’s desk. “Should clear up in a day or so. Apparently, the idiot met this guy who said he could ‘make you experience life as a cat’ and didn’t realize he’d meant that literally.”

“Meow.”

Yura let out an aggravated sigh as her gaze met the small blue eyes of a cat who was, undeniably, the idiot known as Gojo Satoru. Even if she found it hard to believe the whole story, she could feel it was him there through their connection, which made the experience all the more surreal. “Now what?” she asked, setting her hands on her hips.

Shoko shrugged. “You take care of him.”

Yura let out a huff, shooting Shoko a look. “I take care of him?”

“You’re the expert Gojo handler,” Shoko said, her fingers fiddling with the pack of cigarettes in her pocket. “Also, I’m a doctor and not a vet.”

“Meow!”

Yura only stared at the cat—Satoru. Satoru as a cat.

Honestly, of all things—

“Oh, and before you go,” Shoko started, moving to pick up something in her desk drawer and then moving in front of Satoru-the-cat. “Here.”

When Shoko stepped back, Yura was hit by the sudden urge to snort at the same time that she wanted to throttle Satoru’s furry little neck, because Shoko had placed tiny, round sunglasses on Satoru-the-cat’s head.

“...Where’d you even get those?” Yura couldn’t help but ask.

Shoko shot her a look. “You don’t wanna know.”

-

So Yura was supposed to take Satoru-as-a-cat home.

“Meow?” Satoru... meowed as she approached the desk, and he tilted his cat head at her.

“Why do you always drag me into your messes?” Yura half-heartedly complained, her hands on her hips again.

Satoru-the-cat got up from his sitting position, walking over—or rather wobbling over—to her. It seemed that he wasn’t exactly used to moving around with four cat legs instead of two human ones.

Yura suddenly had to bite her lip to keep a smile from popping out, because as much as she was completely exasperated at the situation... Satoru-the-cat actually looked really adorable.

“Meow?” he... said, looking up at her. One little paw reached out, pawing at the air to get her attention, and oh God that’s actually really cute.

So Yura reached out with a finger, touching the paw in the air and oh God it’s like a real cat.

“I guess... we just go home,” she eventually said, letting out a small sigh. “So how do I...?”

Her hands hovered above Satoru’s furry body, unsure how to... pick him up. She eventually took a hold of his... torso? Lifting him up off the table as he let out a surprised meow, his paws swinging in the air.

“Calm down, I’m going to need to carry you—” she started, but Satoru suddenly twisted in her hold when she brought him close to her, propelling himself up using her arm and torso as a jumping point to suddenly climb on to her shoulder. Yura had to try to keep him from falling off as he climbed up, but he then simply made himself comfortable there. “Seriously?” she asked as Satoru settled down on her shoulders, letting out a satisfied chirp.

Yura sighed again.

-

“Is that Gojo-san?” Ijichi asked with wide eyes as he stared at the white fur ball around her shoulders. As he recomposed himself, he reached out with a hand. “He’s actually kind of cute—”

“Rawr.” Satoru suddenly swiped at the man, somehow shooting Ijichi the same unimpressed look he’d often give the manager but in this tiny cat body.

“Now, now, be nice,” Yura chided Satoru, as Ijichi jumped back like he’d just remembered this wasn’t just any cat he was actually talking to.

“S-sorry, Gojo-san!” Ijichi stuttered out, rushing to get into the driver’s seat of the car. Yura had to ask Ijichi to drive her back to her place, since she didn’t think taking Satoru through public transit like this would go too well.

Yura climbed into the backseat, Satoru finally jumping down from her shoulders to sit next to her as she buckled up. He seemed restless, though, like he was still getting used to this new body, moving back and forth on the backseat, standing up on his hind legs to peer through the window, jumping down between her legs, and then surprising her by climbing up onto her lap. Yura could only blink down at the white furry mass on top of her thighs, watching him as he turned around in place until Satoru eventually seemed to settle down right there.

“Really?” she asked, amused, staring down at the white-haired cat that was actually Satoru sitting on her lap. Her mind suddenly pictured the human version of him trying to do the same, that tall giant of a man trying to make himself comfortable curled up into a ball on top of her thighs, and she snorted at the mental image.

“Meow?” Satoru asked, tilting his head up at her. But she only shook her head, looking out at the window.

“This is all so ridiculous...” she muttered, snorting again.

-

“Alright, here we are,” she said, letting Satoru jump off her shoulders again to land on her couch. They were finally in the safety of her own home, and all they could do was wait until Satoru went back to normal.

Satoru-the-cat started sniffing around the couch cushions, and she wondered what it was like seeing this familiar place with his new cat eyes. Wait, did his cat self still have the Six Eyes? Limitless? How did this even work?

“Do not scratch any of my furniture,” she suddenly felt the need to tell him. Satoru-the-cat turned his head to her, and even if she couldn’t see his little cat eyes behind the tiny sunglasses, she could tell the expression on his face wasn’t anything good as he menacingly raised a paw towards the arm of the couch. “Satoru,” she warned. But he only wiggled his paw, getting closer, and her eyes narrowed further. “Don’t make me pull out a spray bottle,” she told him, wagging her finger.

Satoru let out a whiny meow, lowering his paw.

Yura sighed, moving into the kitchen. She was a little hungry, and it reminded her that she probably should get Satoru something to eat too, right? But the problem was... what?

Pulling out her phone, she started looking up cat-appropriate foods. Meats, got it. But no sauces or seasonings of any kind. Also don’t give them milk because they’re generally lactose intolerant, and that one took her by surprise—you mean that all those movies and cartoons with cats drinking from saucers of milk had been lying to her this entire time? Oh wow.

Okay, she could probably cook up something simple for him.

Yura started moving around in her kitchen, vaguely noticing Satoru walking around her apartment—scolding him when he knocked something off a shelf—but focusing on getting food ready. And since she would have to wait to get her dinner ready, she decided to hold herself off with a couple of leftover cupcakes she had in her fridge from her last bakery run.

She opened the fridge, fetching the two chocolate pastries, and then placed them up on the counter—

And suddenly Satoru jumped up on it, surprising her.

“Satoru,” she called, watching as cat Satoru headed straight to something with his tiny mouth wide open in glee, something—

The cupcakes.

“No,” she said, picking him up off the counter. His four legs flailed around in the air as he let out an indignant squeak, but she paid him no mind as she placed him on the kitchen island instead.

And he then immediately jumped right back to the counter where the cupcakes were.

“Satoru, no,” she called once more, promptly picking him up again. Cat Satoru let out another frustrated meow, his paws trying to reach her cupcakes as she moved him away. “You can’t eat sweets right now, you are a cat.”

Satoru let out a loud, dramatic meow as she placed him on the kitchen island again. And he instantly tried to jump to the counter once more, but she caught him in mid-air.

“Satoru,” she chided him, holding him against her side. Cat Satoru looked up at her, and if he were human, she was sure he’d be pouting. “I don’t know how biology works right now, but you are a cat. So there’s a big chance that if you eat any sweets as you are, it might just kill you. Stay away.”

Satoru paused for a moment, and they just stared at each other. Then he started wiggling again in her arms, trying to reach the counter, and she let out an aggravated sigh.

“So a time out, then,” she said, walking out of the kitchen and to her bedroom. “Since you can’t behave, you’re gonna have to wait right here.”

Yura shot him a stern look as she placed him inside her bedroom, his little head tilting in confusion for a moment before she closed the door and left him inside.

“You stay there until dinner is ready,” she called through the door, snorting again at this absurd situation as she heard the whiny meows coming from the other side.

Because honestly, Satoru would absolutely eat those cupcakes given the chance, and considering they were chocolate—that literally might kill him.

Satoru scratched at the door, meowing in a very dramatic and Satoru-like fashion as she turned away, walking back to the kitchen and—

There he was, sitting on top of the counter, tail swishing behind him.

Hehe, she could practically hear from him.

“...You can still teleport?” she asked, incredulous.

“Meow,” he answered, looking like a very smug cat.

-

Yura was forced to put the cupcakes away again, and she made Satoru promise he wouldn’t try to eat any sweets unless he wanted to die in a cat’s body. That, and the fact that she threatened to make him eat actual cat food got him to actually settle down as she cooked some chicken and eggs for him to have as dinner.

“So,” she started once they were both done eating, letting out a sigh. “Now what?”

“Mrrh?” Satoru chirped, his cat tongue slipping out to lick around his mouth, his ears twitching.

...Okay, he’s very cute.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Yura asked. Might as well, right?

Satoru seemed to chirp in agreement, and he followed her as she moved to the couch, jumping up on it next to her. It was certainly odd, making herself comfortable to watch a movie with Satoru when he was a cat, but she could still feel his presence there next to her, assuring her that this really was Satoru. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was him back in human form, but then she suddenly felt two little paws on top of her thigh, and her eyes opened to peer down at him.

“What?” she asked, a little amused at the sight of cat Satoru half-standing perched up on her thigh, looking up at her.

“Meow,” he responded. She had no idea what that meant.

Satoru seemed to be sniffing at something in the air, his cat head moving around as he focused on something. Then he climbed onto her lap like he’d done in the car, and Yura stared down at him in amusement. “So you’re a lap cat, that’s what you’re telling me?”

“...Meow...” he responded... almost thoughtful.

Yura continued to stare at him, taking in the features of Satoru-as-a-cat. He was actually, truly, really cute, and she bit her lip as she stared at the way his tiny pink nose wiggled around in the air. When Satoru suddenly lifted a paw to swipe at his own head, purposefully knocking the tiny sunglasses off, familiar blue eyes blinked up at her. “Hi... kitty,” she called, and when Satoru’s tiny cat eyes narrowed up at her, she snickered. “Are you a good boy?” she teased.

Satoru let out a small huff, turning his head up. Yura wasn’t holding back the grin that spread across her face, and she ended up also not holding herself back when she got the urge to suddenly touch him.

She lifted a hand, slowly letting a finger touch his cat cheek. The whiskers tickled her skin, but as she finally made contact, the white fur felt extra soft to the touch, softer than when she would brush his hair sometimes. Ah, that’s right—Satoru was actually really fond of having his hair brushed, wasn’t he? So would he enjoy the same thing as a cat, she wondered...

She started to gently scratch at his cheek, watching as Satoru seemed to pause at the feeling... and then suddenly lean into it, his eyes closing as he pushed his head into her hand.

Yura’s smile widened as she started giving him scritches under his jaw, Satoru seemingly enjoying them and encouraging her further.

Then he started purring.

Yura had to bite at her lip—this was too much. “Satoru,” she called, moving her hand to rub at the top of his head. “You’re purring right now,” she told him, but he didn’t respond, his eyes closed as he seemed to enjoy getting petted.

Her grin widened.

Her other hand joined in, her thumbs rubbing at his cat cheeks. He only let out an appreciative meow, the purring never ceasing, and Yura kept indulging him, like she’d often do by brushing her hands through his hair after he’d make her take his blindfold off for him. But then Satoru suddenly moved forward, his front paws stepping on her stomach as he raised himself closer to her face, and she blinked down at the sudden proximity.

“What?” she asked, a little confused but also a little amused. Or a lot.

Satoru, as expected, didn’t say anything, only brought his head closer to her, nose sniffing the air. Yura blinked at him as his chilly little nose touched her chin, sniffing at her... before he suddenly started rubbing his head against her jaw.

She huffed out an amused laugh. “Satoru?” she asked, but Satoru only kept rubbing his cat head against her cheek, his fur and whiskers tickling her. He’d pause for a moment, nose sniffing at her again, before he went right back to rubbing his head against her... almost fiercely determined in his movements. “Honestly...” she huffed out again. Her hands had been hovering in the air, and she let them gently rest against Satoru’s white, furry back.

Was this a cat instinct of his? Well, she could indulge him on this, as long as he didn’t start humping her or anything...

-

If there was one thing she learned during this whole experience, it was that Satoru as a cat was really needy.

After he was done rubbing himself up on her, he settled down on her lap and proceeded to nap there as Yura watched the movie alone, letting her hands gently pet him every now and then. But when she had to get up to go to the bathroom, he did not seem to have appreciated being disturbed, letting out whiny meows as she told him that no, you can’t come with me.

Then after, when she tried getting some work done for the night, scattering a few reports on her bed that needed filling, Satoru said no. Or meowed a no, in this case, promptly sitting on top of the papers and refusing to move.

“Satoru,” she called, staring at him with a look that asked ‘are you serious’.

Satoru’s tail swished back and forth, silently responding with ‘yes, I am’.

She let out a heavy sigh. Honestly, this somehow felt so painfully in-character for him that she had to wonder if turning into a cat was what made him act more like one, or if he’d already had the soul of a cat deep, deep down.

It eventually got late enough that it was time to go to bed, so Yura started her nightly routine. She took a shower (and threatened to give Satoru a shower if he didn’t behave), and went to brush her teeth.

And Satoru refused to leave her alone.

“Meow,” he tried getting her attention, standing up on his hind legs with his front paws pressed against her leg.

“’m busy,” she said, spitting out toothpaste into the sink. “Just let me brush my teeth.”

“Meowww,” he whined.

Yura sighed. Weren’t cats supposed to be more independent or something?

“Do you want to go to the bathroom again?” she asked. At least Satoru was able to use the regular toilet, and she hadn’t needed to get a litterbox for him...

But cat Satoru shook his head, letting out a whine. He ended up jumping up on her washing machine next to her sink, perching himself up there and looking at her expectantly.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, but he shook his head. “What then?”

Satoru nodded his little head at her, his blue eyes sparkling in the artificial light of her bathroom.

Did he... did he want more petting?

Incredulous, Yura raised a hand—surely this wasn’t what he wanted?

But then he pushed his head into her hand, and Yura started giving him scritches again as she let out a huff.

This fucking cat.

-

At last, it was time to get to bed. But therein lay the problem: where was cat Satoru going to sleep?

Satoru had never really slept over her place, mostly due to the lack of space and he’d never had any need for it anyway. So should she make him sleep out on the living room couch? Yura felt a little guilty at the thought, the image of this tiny bundle of white fur staying all alone by himself out there making him look oddly vulnerable in her mind. And considering that he refused to stay away from her anyway... into her bedroom they went.

“Here,” she said, setting her fluffiest blanket into a small nest for him at the foot of the bed. “You can sleep here.”

“Meow?” Satoru let out, jumping up on her bed and investigating the makeshift cat bed.

It felt a little surreal, going to sleep with Satoru right there next to her, in the same bed... but as a cat. Well, the entire day had felt very surreal, to be fair, so it was finally time to end it and hope that tomorrow this whole thing would eventually fix itself at some point.

Yura settled into her usual spot on the bed, slipping under the covers on her side, her eyes then landing on the white furball next to her.

“You alright in there?” she asked, and Satoru turned his cat head to her.

“Meow,” he replied. That sounded good enough to her.

Yura closed her eyes.

And a few moments later, she felt the bed shift, a warm small weight settling right against her stomach. She cracked an eye open, seeing the white cat that was Satoru curling himself into a ball against her.

“Satoru?” she asked, but he only responded with a quiet chirp, curling further into himself.

Yura let out yet another sigh. She had read somewhere that cats had higher body temperatures and that they liked the heat, so maybe he was just cold.

She lifted a hand, rubbing a knuckle on the top of his head. “Just go to sleep, and maybe you’ll wake up human again tomorrow,” she told him.

“Meow...” he responded, and started purring again.

A smile spread across her face as she closed her eyes.

(When Yura had been halfway to sleep, she felt a warm thing suddenly start to burrow itself under her arm. It felt nice, and soft, so Yura brought it closer to her chest, holding it to her.)

-

Yura eventually started waking up, bit by bit.

And the first thing she noticed was the warm thing that was pressed against her—not unpleasant, just unusual. Her brows furrowed at the feeling, because this thing was warm and heavy against her side, something rubbing itself against her chest and making her feel funny.

So she cracked her eyes open and peered down, her gaze being immediately met by a headful of white hair.

Ah, Satoru, her mind supplied. But hold on—Satoru had been turned into a cat yesterday, she suddenly recalled. But hold on again—this was definitely a person-sized thing that was in bed with her.

“Satoru...” she called, trying to shift back to look at him. But no go, Satoru had a strong arm locked around her torso, keeping her in place as he rubbed his head against her chest.

Was he still purring or was that just her imagination...?

Yura tried pulling back again but Satoru held on tighter, a sudden realization that he was rubbing his face against her breasts making a wave of heat shoot up across her face.

“S-Satoru,” she stammered out, wakefulness finally coming over her as she pushed him back with more force. “You’re human again, get off.”

That seemed to have finally stirred him awake, his head eventually shifting up to blink up at her with blue sleepy eyes—human eyes now. His hold on her loosened, and she took the opportunity to push him away from her. Her eyes scanned his form, trying to check if everything was back in place now, her eyes going lower and lower—

Yura let out a loud squeak, jumping off the bed. “You are naked—”

“Me—ow,” he let out as she pushed him off the bed, ungracefully falling onto the floor with a bedsheet thrown over him. “…This is animal abuse.”

Yura let out a huff, welcoming back Satoru’s familiar voice after all those meows yesterday—at the same time that she wanted to smack his finally human face.

(And she tried very hard to ignore his very human bare chest as he only dignified himself to cover his bottom half with the fallen bedsheet, her face burning because yes, she had also just caught an eyeful of very human privates just a moment before…)

End notes: (Yes, I did not know how to end this lol)

Anyway, this was just some silly side fun as I struggle writing some chapters of the main fic, welp. Turns out it's a lot more fun to picture Satoru as a cat instead! Bonus points if you're familiar with cat behavior and figured out what cat Satoru was doing rubbing himself on Yura lmao. And since they weren't together here yet, Yura doesn't know how clingy and needy Satoru can really get as a human because sis, that is just his real self showing through when he has the excuse of 'being a cat' to hide behind lol.

Thank you for reading this dumb oneshot!

[omegalomania]

fall out boy has truly put the fear of pondering orbs inside of us...

aka silly thing i drew as a playlist cover for all the magic 8 ball songs fall out boy has done on tourdust, in order of debut

[vinnigami]

October 7 2023

Susano-o

[sysig]

What’s Bun-Bun’s signature colour? (Patreon)

[bookyeom]

whatever you say, baby - chs

pairing: vernon x reader word count: 1.1k warnings: none? the slightest bit suggestive at the end but like... it's nothing author's note: part two to this fic! i would recommend reading both for it to make sense :)

You haven’t seen Vernon in four days.

You haven’t seen him since he kissed you — and he’d kissed you a lot.

You’d barely managed to finish the movie without making out on his couch like teenagers. And when it was over, he hadn’t asked you to stay — but he’d kissed you again by his front door. 

You’d texted when you’d gotten home safe, as he’d requested. Then you’d woken up the next day to a ‘good morning :)’ text, which was swiftly followed by ‘today is so busy I might die’. And then the two of you had just… moved on. 

He sends a Shrek meme and then disappears for hours; you laugh react or send a meme in return. He sends you a picture of a “gnarly” squirrel he sees on campus; you send him a picture of a shitty doodle you drew during one of your lectures. Neither of you brings up what happened. You know he’s got a project due at the end of the week, so you don’t push when his texts are few and far between. Even though you so desperately want to. 

Is he thinking about it as much as you are? You can’t get the feeling of his lips out of your mind, and it’s driving you crazy. You want to kiss him again, want to run your fingers through his hair again, want to feel his hands on your waist again.

But you remain in limbo. You don’t ask for an explanation — he doesn’t offer one. And you don’t know how much longer you can ignore it. 

Vernonie [8:34pm]: INCOMING VIDEOCALL

Your eyes widen when your screen lights up. You quickly straighten from where you’d been lounging on your couch, tucking your hair behind your ears and hoping for the best. He knows what you look like, you remind yourself, but that doesn’t help the nerves when you finally accept the call. 

“Hey, stranger.”

He looks cute, and it makes you sick. 

“Hey,” you reply, and you can feel your cheeks heat up for no apparent reason. All he’s done is say hello, but you haven’t seen his face in four days, and the last time you saw him you were —

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you say, and then you can’t help but blurt out, “You’ve been busy.” It comes out accusatory, and you regret it immediately. 

Vernon looks surprised, and you watch as his eyebrows raise. “Yeah, I had that big project to finish, remember?” 

You nod, avoiding eye contact through the screen. “Right.”

He’s quiet again before he says teasingly, “If you missed me you can just say so.” 

You know it’s an attempt to lighten the mood, but it hits so deep all of a sudden that you think you might cry. Did he not miss you, too? 

You know it’s a cheap move, but you absolutely cannot look at him when he tells you that the kissing had meant nothing, that it was all a mistake. That you’re better off as friends. 

“Hey,” he says when you shift your phone so that your face is just out of sight. You can practically hear his pout. “Come back.”

“I’m just gonna go,” you say weakly, and you can see in your peripheral vision the way Vernon sits up straight. 

“Hey, no. Wait. Please come back? Let me say something.”

You bite your lip as the tears well up. It takes you a minute, but you manage to take a breath and set your phone back upright to look at him. 

“Y/N,” he says gently, and you can see his soft smile through the screen. “Bro.”

You can’t help but smile a bit at that, and he takes that as a sign to continue. 

“Did you think I was avoiding you?”

You shrug. 

“You think I kissed you and then avoided you on purpose?”

Your heart stutters over itself a bit as he says the words out loud. When he puts it like that, you suppose it sounds a bit silly. Because it’s Vernon, and he would never be so cruel. You shrug again, but you still can’t find it in you to speak. 

“Kissing you is probably all I've thought about for the better part of the last few months,” he continues, and your eyes widen. “I wasn't deliberately avoiding you, I just... I was busy, that part’s true, but it seemed like a good time to give you some space anyway because I know you get into your head sometimes, so I thought that would give you some time to process…” He trails off, a hand running through his hair before he adds, quieter, “You know. In case you…” 

“In case I what?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken in a few minutes, and you can practically see the way Vernon’s shoulders relax at the sound of your voice again. 

He pauses, and then he says softly, “In case you regret it.”

Your eyes widen. “You think I regret it?”

“Do you?”

You shake your head, a bit dizzy as you return, “Do you?”

Vernon’s lip curls up at the side. “No, Y/N. I don’t.”

You’re processing, and he’s quiet as he lets you. He doesn’t regret it. He wanted to kiss you. He… 

It’s silent for another moment and then you say, voice small, “But you didn’t ask me to stay.” 

“Baby,” he says, and your eyes widen. “That’s definitely not because I didn’t want you to. Like I said, I was giving you space.”

“Baby?”

Vernon freezes. “Shit, sorry. Fuck—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, and he relaxes a little. 

“Yeah?” He breathes, and you nod. A smile spreads across your lips, warmth spreading through you as it really, truly dawns on you — Vernon likes you back. 

“Yeah,” you affirm. “I think I much prefer that to bro.”

“Yeah?” He says again, and you smile. You’re just realizing now that he seems nervous too, and it makes you feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy inside.

“Mhm.”

You stare at one another through the screen. Vernon’s grin spreads the longer you do, and even though you know your cheeks are flushed, you don’t stop the staring contest. He narrows his eyes, and you let out a giggle. 

“So…”

“So,” he repeats, and you watch as he adjusts to lie down on his couch. “I finished my project.”

That was not where you thought this conversation was headed. “Oh yeah? Good job, bro.” 

Vernon raises his eyebrows at the name, and you flush again. 

“It’s habit,” you whine, and he puts on an exaggerated frown. 

“That’s fine,” he sighs dramatically, “I was going to say that I can hang out with you now that my project is done, but I can see I’m the only romantic one here, bro.”

You gasp. “I can be romantic!”

Vernon grins, and you immediately know you’ve taken his bait as he teases, “Really?”

“I can!” You insist, and he just smiles even wider. 

“Want me to come over so you can show me just how romantic you can be, baby?”

TAGLIST: @tae-bebe @wheeboo @waldau @iluvseokmin @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @seohomrwolf @pan-de-seungcheol @minisugakoobies @wqnwoos @gyuminusone @christinewithluv @darkypooo @lvlystars @bewoyewo

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Padfoot, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

[cuubism]

physical therapy part 4

--

It takes some time, but finally, Dream's hand starts to feel better when he's painting. Granted, his grip strength still needs some work, and he's had to adjust the way he holds a brush to accommodate the lingering stiffness he gets in some of his fingers, but he's finding it hard to care when a few months ago he couldn't draw a straight line without it turning into a scribble. He'd known Hob was good at his job, but it still feels like a miracle.

The only downside is that once he makes enough progress Hob will surely decide to end their sessions. And while he had said that he liked Dream, that he cared about Dream... Dream is finding it hard to feel assured of those feelings. Someone's feelings can change on a dime, and it's impossible to predict.

But finally the day does come when Hob deems him progressed enough to simply continue his exercises at home. "At this point I think you've regained enough mobility that it's just a matter of gradually increasing how much you're using your hand," he says. "You've made a ton of progress."

"Have I?" Dream is less sure. Some things are certainly easier now, like doing tasks around the house, and picking things up. Art is another matter. Though perhaps he is simply making excuses because he doesn't want to stop seeing Hob.

"Yeah, look." Hob pulls out a folder from amongst his files, and shows Dream several sketches--the ones Dream's made in session, which he's apparently kept. Dream picks up the oldest sketch, the cats he'd doodled at his first appointment. They're shaky and uneven, like something he might have drawn when he was barely four. He supposes he can't deny the progress since then. He's torn between wanting to tear the drawing up, for it's too wretched a reminder--and wanting to hold it close to his chest.

"It's not that I think there's no more room for improvement, or anything," Hob says. "I just don't think continuing these frequent sessions is going to offer more than a marginal benefit."

Dream thinks that the benefit he is receiving at this point is more in being able to look forward to seeing Hob each week, than the physical therapy itself. He needs something to look forward to. He's put Hob's objectively terrible finger painting on his fridge. It's still the only spot of color in his empty flat. He needs that.

"So," Hob continues, "I thought I'd take you out to celebrate."

That pulls Dream from his head. "You... will?"

Hob winks at him. "Promised you, didn't I?"

Yes. Dream supposes he had promised that if Dream's feelings held true Hob would act on them. Is that what he's doing? Dream's growing disappointment swiftly morphs into something else. Hope.

"I--" he swallows hard. "I. Would like that." It's still strange, to have something he wants. And to feel like it may be okay to express it.

"Perfect." Hob grins, gets up, holds out a hand.

"Now?"

"You got somewhere else to be?"

Dream never has anywhere else to be, and doubts he would go there if he did. He takes Hob's hand.

Hob takes him to a Chinese restaurant nearby, and Dream looks at him suspiciously as Hob passes him a pair of chopsticks with a cheeky grin. "Now you are just testing me."

"Yup. 'Course if you can't use chopsticks in the first place then it's moot."

Dream can use chopsticks. Could. No, can. Death would say that he should think positively.

So he takes the chopsticks.

Once their food comes, Hob, the absolute bastard, puts down his own chopsticks and picks up a fork instead. And Dream knows, somehow he just knows, that it's not because he can't use them. He's teasing Dream. Or perhaps ensuring that Dream won't compare himself if he struggles. Or both.

He should feel hurt by the teasing but... somehow he's not.

"See?" Hob says when Dream manages to eat his noodles with the chopsticks. It's... not that hard. It doesn't even hurt. Maybe Hob is better at his job than Dream even thought.

It makes him tear up. Such a silly, small thing to start crying over when he's barely cried at all, even when he'd first hurt his hand.

"Hey, it's okay," Hob soothes him, wiping away Dream's tears with his thumb. "I think the noodles are salty enough without the addition of tears, hm?"

Dream laughs, wiping at his eyes when the tears keep falling. "Good tears," he manages to say.

"I know," Hob says, and smiles at him.

Dream surprises himself by having an actually nice time. He hasn't had a nice time doing something in so long. It feels good. He doesn't want it to end.

Of course, it does end, and he finds himself lingering outside the restaurant, hesitant to go home. Particularly as he no longer has a set time when he will see Hob. He feels aimless without that, but. It is hard to ask.

"Dream..." Hob starts, likewise lingering in front of the restaurant. The lights of the signage above cast his face in shades of violet. Dream has thought him handsome before, but never so much as now.

Hob hesitates over what to say, then finally just steps over to him. "Come here."

And before Dream can decide how to react, Hob folds him into a hug.

Dream goes still on instinct. Then, gradually, relaxes into Hob's strong hold. He... can't remember the last time someone hugged him.

He lets himself tuck his face into Hob's shoulder.

"Hey," Hob says. His voice is so close to Dream's ear now. "I'm proud of you."

Dream hears himself make a tiny whimpering sound. He. He does not know how to be proud of himself. He thinks he would only be proud of himself if he could go back in time and stop himself from getting in that terrible relationship to begin with. But he does like how it sounds when Hob says it.

Hob gives him one more squeeze, then, disappointingly, releases him. "I almost forgot. I have something for you."

He digs around in his bag and comes back with a box that looks rather like art supplies of some kind. "It's modelling clay," he explains. "So you can play around and work on your hand without just doing, you know, boring exercises all the time."

Hob is too considerate of him, truly. Dream holds the box close.

"You okay to get home?" Hob asks, and Dream nods. His ex has not bothered him again, and Dream is now hopeful that he won't. Though that does not necessarily mean he doesn't want Hob to follow him home.

"Good," Hob says. Then, while Dream is still thinking about the hug and the clay and everything else, Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. "Goodnight, Dream."

Dream stands paralyzed until Hob is gone, and it's only then that he realizes he failed to set another time for them to meet. He supposes he does have Hob's office contact info. Still, it is disappointing not to have something to look forward to.

But when he gets home, and opens the box of clay, he finds a note inside. It has the name of a coffee shop, and Tuesday, 3pm?, and Hob's personal number. At first he's confused. Why wouldn't Hob simply ask him while they were together? And then he realizes that Hob must be trying to give him a chance to comfortably back out if he wants to by letting him decide in private. It makes him want to cry again. Hob truly is too considerate of him.

But he takes out his phone and types in Hob's number, and a simple reply. Yes.

[localkiss]

Princess Sprinkles!

Vendetta Chris Redfield x fem reader!

cw: dd/lg, creampie, squirting (guys idk how squirting feels like....), multiple orgasms (reader), fingering, pet names, praise kink, oral fixation (reader obv), light mentions of breeding, soft dom!Chris!!, afab terms used, size kink ish.., Chris being silly, Chris being a lil mean one time, and some fluff :3 !! — Lmk if I missed anything.

wc: 2005 !! (🤭 birth year go crazyy LOL!)

notes: if you don't like ddlg just um. Idk don't read 💀!! I fr try not to make the reader teeny tiny but like dude Chris is huge asf.. size kink go brrr 🧎🏻‍♀️! I'll be making reader a lil squishy from now on bc I'm not skinny either ☝🏻.Also I used to watch the Bratz babyz movie on repeat sm that the disc got ruined 😭😭 soo.. yes that part is directly from yours truly! Not proof read 😵‍💫

tags: @argreion, @rigorwhoring bc ily guys 😇!!

"Daddy!" You squeal as soon as Chris picks you up and spins you around. Making your fluffy mini pleated skirt twirl upwards.

Chris hoists your pretty body over his shoulders and pats you on the butt, practically skipping towards your shared bedroom. It looks like someone dumped all the squishmallows possible into the master bedroom. He can't help but think of you every time he sees a stuffed animal. Shits rooted in his brain. Stuffies = his angel!

Yeah, he might have to fight with them to make room for himself, but he wouldn't trade it for any other way. He doesn't actually fight them, knowing you'd throw a hissy fit and say "Hate daddy! Forever 'n ever!" Chris's heart shatters like glass whenever you say that.

He's grown softer because of you and those little threats of yours make his heart drop down to the core of the Earth. Would he admit it to team Alpha? No. Never in a million years. But they've got eyes and ears, they're not Patrick Star. Dumb and living under a rock.

Lately he's been covered in hickeys and cute little doodles that're supposed to be like tattoos by yours truly. Goes to work and gets teased by his squad, telling him how you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger. How much you've changed him, for the better. He always shrugs them off, putting them back to work.

You for sure made Chris cut back on smoking a fuck ton. Constantly crying about how the stench will ruin your stuffies and the coat the walls of the house with a film. You're right, that's for sure. And the fact that second hand smoke is even worse is what clicks it into his head for him. His baby. His sweetheart, could end up dying because of his stupid ass habits.

Chris has lost too many of his men because of his habits. Too many good men. You are his savior. He pounds away the guilt into your needy little cunt. Constantly craving him. Needing him. Loving him. Honest to God, he needs that more than anything in this lifetime.

"Sweetheart," he sighs and sets you down onto the bed. "I missed you. Whatcha been up to?"

"Slept 'n colored and um... Ate some snackies, watch movie, 'n had lotsa juice!" You mumble, eyes glancing around the entire room. Using your hands to talk, as your words get slurred when you're in this state of mind.

Chris presses a faint kiss to your temple and noses down to the underside of your ear. Carefully holding the back of your head with his hand. He gives you more kisses and blows raspberries into your ear, making you squeal and swat at him.

"That's good baby. Glad you had a productive day." Chris smiles at you lovingly.

Your heart then swoons, making you feel all mushy inside. Praise gets him everything from you. Just like you crying out for daddy gets you everything from him!

He lazily starts to unbuckle his belt, pulling it through the loops. Setting it down on the bedside table with a thud. He starts to undo his fly, pushing his pants all the way down, kicking out of them.

Only dressed in his boxers and shirt, he engulfs you with a hug. Nuzzling into your neck, feeling your hands grab ahold of his shirt.

"Daddy?"

"Just recharging honey, hold on." His voice is deep and gruffy, sending chills up your spine.

You lay there, body buzzing with warmth as his figure presses you into the mattress. His hips shift and move against yours, causing you to gasp.

Thighs squeezing against his fit waist and he sighs into your neck. "Daddy's not charge. He excited..." Your fingers tug on his shirt and he sits up.

"Off?" Pointing to his shirt and you clumsily remove your own shirt and skirt. Now both of you are only in your underwear. Well, you still have your white thigh highs on, but still.

He presses your thighs up to your chest and settles in the middle as best as he can. Feeling his skin on your skin feels like heaven. Makes your panties wet, which he's noticed but doesn't want to say anything about it. Knowing you get all shy and embarrassed when he points things out like that. He likes it. Thinks it's cute that you want skin ship.

"So pretty baby," he pushes his hips forward. His cock catching onto your clit with each slow roll. "Pretty pussy, pretty tits. Pretty girl. My pretty girl."

Chris leans back and gets rid of his boxers. Pulling your panties up to slip his cock between your folds. Laying back down on top of you. Humping you instead of fucking you.

You can't complain, his tip his pressing against your clit nicely. Your hips rolling up to meet his and his dick slips inside.

He bottoms out immediately with a growl. "Baby. Did I say you could put it in?" Chastising you with a rough thrust, acting like it's your fault his dick slipped inside of your tiny hole.

"Daddy, didn't mean to. Not m'fault," you whine out, kicking your legs.

"S'okay. Daddy will make it all better." Chris presses a kiss to your forehead and acts like he's going to pull it out. Only to harshly thrust it back into you. "Fuck, princess. She's not wanting to let me go. You hear her crying for me?"

Moaning, you dig your nails into his back, "Daddy, daddy, never leave," you start babbling already.

He groans and rabbits his hips, making the bed rock against the wall.

"Wait, daddy, stuffies no want look, turn," you try to speak as he continues to fuck you like he hates you.

"Shit, okay baby. Hold on," he grunts and turns them around as best as he can. "Better now?"

You nod and go in for a kiss and he meets you halfway. Drooling into your mouth and your tongues swirl together before you suck on his. Moaning as he drives himself deeper inside of you. Squelching sounds and skin on skin echoing in the bedroom. Surely you guys won't get a noise complaint this time!

He spits into your mouth and smears it all over your lips with his thumb, pushing it into your mouth. Who needs a pacifier when you've got daddy's thumb?

Watching your eyes flutter shut and your lips wrapping around his thumb, it sets him off. His other hand driving down between you both and rubbing harshly at your puffy nub.

Biting down, you furrow your eyebrows. Breathing quickly and moaning softly. "Close," you hum around his digit. Sucking on it as you get closer and closer.

Chris's dick hits a special spot inside of you and your body shakes underneath him. Pussy trying to push out his cock as a clear liquid shoots out of you.

"Goddamn, baby, squirting on me, mmhh—fuck..." His hips falter and he dumps his cum inside of you. Resting his body on you, burying you into the bed. Making sure his cum never leaves you.

Chris pulls his thumb out of your mouth and kisses you feverishly. "Putting a baby in you, s'that alright princess?" Your pussy agrees by clenching around his thickness.

But he's acting like you've got a choice, since he's already done the deed. He pulls you up into his arms and you guys slowly make your way to the bath. Still connected and full.

Keeping you in his arms, he reaches down to turn on the water and put in the plug. You giggle and some of his cum starts to spurt out and drip down his balls. He settles in the tub with you on his lap, grabbing the soap to fill it with bubbles.

Chris slowly lifts you off of his length and sets you between his legs. Back pressed against his hairy chest. While his cum dribbles out of you.

His fingers make their way down to your sensitive cunt and slowly dips them inside. "Shh, I know baby," pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you whine and claw weakly at his forearms. The other one is keeping you pressed against him.

"Daddy's helping you baby," he starts to curl his fingers and your legs shake. Clearly overstimulated from earlier. But Chris starts to be a bit greedy, smacking his palm against your pretty little pearl.

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, he coaxes you into another orgasm. With the disguise of helping you get his cum out. If anything, he's trying to fuck it back into. Serious about putting a mini him or you inside of your tummy.

"Baby, almost there. Y'got it princess.. mmh.. cum one more time for daddy? Promise I'll clean you up and get us some donuts with sprinkles on 'em, just the way you like." Man, he's even bribing you! Daddy knows what you really want right now. So you whimper in response.

"Daddy, mmhhff... Daddy oh god! Please, please, please!" Your heels dig into the tub as the water fills it. His lips sucking and biting into your neck is what makes you cream around his digits.

Body convulsing and breath raggedy and higher as you come down from your second high of the night. Chris grabs your face and kisses you all over, mumbling praises into your skin. "Good girl, daddy's so proud of you."

Then, he takes his time washing you off, letting you play with the rubber duckies and splashing water onto him. Putting bubbles on his beard and making one for yourself.

"I daddy! See?" You pout and furrow your eyebrows, taking a drag of an imaginary cigarette. Chris rolls his brown eyes and takes the imaginary cigarette and puts it out.

"Babies can't do that stuff, remember? Only daddies can do that, silly baby girl." He wipes the bubbles off of your face and his, nibbling on your earlobe. Making chewing noises, "Om nom nom, my baby tastes so yummy!"

You squeal and press your face into your shoulder. "Daddy! Got wash so we can eat nummy donut! Donut sprinkle!"

He hums and gets to work. Gently washing your back and hair as you wash your front side and down to your toes. Chris hauls you up and he turns on the shower to wash your hair and his. God knows he needs this shower after training his new squad mates today.

Chris washes his own figure as you cup the water in your tiny hands and splash it up in the air. Watching you pretend you have powers as the water runs down your arms and to the tips of your fingers.

"Alright princess. Let's go get some sprinkled donuts," he pats your heart shaped ass with a chuckle. Wrapping you in a fuzzy towel, he gets to work drying you off. It reminds you of that Bratz babyz movie. Sure reminds him of it too. From how often you guys watched it, the CD stopped working and you threw a fit.

So of course, he bought a couple more, just in case. It's not like he doesn't have the money for it. So why not keep his baby sated with something so simple as a 2000s movie? He even bought you some Bratz dolls and monster high ones. Likes how you squeal and jump around in excitement every time he buys you something so simple as a doll. Makes him happy.

"Princess sprinkles and daddy sprinkles! Getting donut sprinkles! Sprinkles, sprinkles, sprinkles!" You laugh as he puts on your blue matching cinnamoroll pajamas that he spent fifty dollars on. Worth it in his opinion. Looks so cute on you, he can't help but press kisses all over your cheeks.

"Alright, alright, princess sprinkles. Let's go get in the car. Daddy'll buy you all the chocolate sprinkled donuts there is at the bakery." Chris's heart thumps in his chest. Yeah, there's a sprinkled shaped hole with a sprinkle version of you in his heart.

[justarandomlambblog]

5 bishops, their god, and their favorite mortal

Bonus

this family has captivated me with their drama and potential for healing (they're all horrible people and murderers (but at least they can be murderers together))

this was supposed to be a silly doodle (thus why the line quality/consistency is way off) and it quickly got out of hand thanks I love them sm

[deadsetromance]

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon <3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

[selkies-and-cycles]

The castle’s infirmary is quiet today.

The main physician sits at their desk, scribbling away some new kind of prescription, while the royal consort sits in a nearby chair, tongue stuck out in concentration. They hold a notebook up on their curled-up knees, reaching for a green pigment to add to their drawing. They’d come to help Morien organize some deliveries, but now that that was done, they’d taken to absentmindedly doodling in the quiet.

Eventually, Cuáine deems the drawing finished and gets up, sidling over to the physician’s desk.

"Look, it's you." Cuáine slides over the piece of paper with a small, teasing smile.

On the paper scrap is a doodle- almost childish, with how cartoony it is- of a seal with big green eyes staring up at Morien from the paper. The whiskers framing the eyes are overexaggerated to give it a little grumpy face- as grumpy as a cartoon seal can be, at least, and one flipper lies over a long, rounded cane with a green ribbon around it.

Morien blinks.

"...You drew me. As a seal." They state, deadpan. Their eyes drift over to Cuáine's expectant face, expression unnervingly blank.

Cuáine nods. Then, as the seconds tick on, they suddenly remember where and who they are.

They are no longer the laughing child on the coast of Venegard’s territory, pointing out seals playing on the rocky shore to their older brother. Their eyes no longer carry the bright-eyed brilliance they had been named after, the one that would make their parents ruffle their hair when presented with silly doodles.

Times had changed- those happy moments were undermined by the much clearer memories of when Cuáine had tried to talk to their parents or show them a pretty rock found down at the shore, only to be waved off for another time that never came. Osia called it stupid, really- low effort, not worth calling a ‘gift’ when a 5 year old could make something better.

Maybe a child could, but the intent had been pure- now, Cuáine just stares down at their silly scrap of paper with a sour taste in their mouth. This probably seemed stupid to Morien too.

"...Nevermind. If you think it's stupid, you can tell me." Their hand moves towards the scrap of paper on the physician's desk, fingers shaking slightly. "It's just supposed to-"

"No, no, it's-" Morien waves them off, and Cuáine's hand falls away. "-not. I was just... surprised. Doesn't seem very 'nobleborn battlemage' of you to do." They grumble, seeming almost defensive now as Cuáine lingers awkwardly by the side of their desk.

Cuáine hesitates, then says, "Well, I'm not many of the things I should be." They seem to think for a moment, then sidle closer, half-sitting on the edge of Morien's desk. They wait, taking the physician's half-glare as a sign to get off, but Morien doesn't say anything. So they relax, still being careful to put most of their weight on their ground foot.

Morien continues to write something down in their notebook, and Cuáine hums, going to twist their armlet.

“...I wasn’t aware you liked seals so much.”

Morien’s comment is quiet, and Cuáine would have almost missed it if it weren’t for the heavy silence blanketing the infirmary. For a moment, the royal consort blinks, unsure how to respond.

…They actually want to talk to me?

A small smile tugs at their lips, one of their ringed fingers tapping against the desktop. “I’ve loved them since I was a child. It’s rather an amusing story, actually. My parents have always lamented that they didn't name me ‘little seal’ Ronán, for how much I ended up loving them." Cuáine laughs lightly, shifting their gaze over to the little window that lets some light into the infirmary. "Apparently my father was of the opinion that the name was 'too common', so imagine his surprise when his seventh came out and eventually had to be dragged away from watching seals play on the shore. The, uh, doodling them-” Cuáine gestures again to the small seal drawing with a somewhat flushed expression, “-came from messin’ around with Saraah. It got to a point tha’ when I considered changing my name a couple times, he suggested I go with Ronán. I didn’t, obviously, but…”

“Hm.” Morien continues writing something down on a nearby pad of paper, and Cuáine has to resist the urge to be nosy and peek. They oddly aren’t meeting Cuáine’s face, but maybe they’re just focused? “Speaking of family, didn’t you say earlier that you had a meeting with Arthur and the council?”

Cuáine’s swinging leg stills, and they immediately swear, dark blonde hair swinging past their face when they jump off the desk. “Shit, I forgot about that! Thanks Morien!” They grab their bag and immediately dash out the infirmary door, but not without giving one last grateful wave to the physician.

As the door to the infirmary slams shut, Morien waits until the footsteps of the king's spouse have fully faded away before doing anything, including looking back down at the childish seal doodle.

"...Fuck." Morien murmurs, burying their face in their hands. It's the only way to successfully counteract their burning cheeks. "They might as well just fuckin’ stab me through the heart if they're gonna keep bein' this fuckin' cute."

Cuáine visits again only a few days later.

“Morien?”

When their knock and call go unanswered, they peek inside. Surprisingly, the infirmary is empty, devoid of its usual red-headed physician.

Perhaps Morien just had to go to the bathroom?

Regardless, Cuáine is here to drop off some herbs they gathered. They nudge the door open, walking over to the desk to drop the bundles off. Out of curiosity, green eyes stray to the mess of papers pinned to the wall’s cork board.

There, nestled among the notes for needed medicinal herbs, prescriptions and schedules, a small needle pins a little seal doodle to the wall.

Cuáine doesn’t quite believe it.

…Morien actually kept it?

Despite themself, Cuáine can feel a small grin curling their lips as they reach for another scrap of paper and lead pencil.

When Morien comes back, they find a package of herbs on the table and a new scrap of paper pinned to the wall- one with another seal doodled on it, holding a tiny knife in one flipper and a scar across its abdomen.

Look! It’s you n’ me.

(Eventually, the collection grows to include a seal with a crown, two with knightly armor, one with a long black braid, and a seal pup with tiny dragon wings, but the first two remain pinned together.)

---

(Morien and the setting belong to @the-kingshound!)

[hotvinimon]

You are his, right ?

Yandere gym bro x reader

Plot : Inviting casper for a sleepover

Author’s note : The images are not mine. I don not support this kind of behaviour and highly condemn these activities. This kind of behaviour is not tolerated in actual life. Reader is portrayed as pick me girl who is asking for it.

Warnings : MDNI. The images are not mine. Credits to the owner

Join my taglist - Here

Previous

Hangouts with Casper were now a part of your daily routines. From your friends to coworkers to neighborhood gossip aunties and even your baker, everyone came to know about Casper. Anywhere you went, Casper appeared suddenly and even matching your outfit. What a coincident right ?

This is what soulmate is, isn’t it ? You are his soulmate right ?

“Hey Caz, I think we should head back it’s getting dark.” you suggested. “ I guess you are right “ Casper smiles silently cursing all the powers who are working to keep you from him.

“Here you go sweetie” Casper drops you at your home in his car. “Cas, I was wondering if you could stay for a while, I have something to show you.” you asked. Casper frowns and acts like having a deep thought. “hmmm… recent studies say that a man should never say no to his cute girl, so of course I would love to stay for ever a while.“ you laughed at his silly joke.

You didn’t corrected him. It means you are his. You are his, right ?? All his.

“YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO CLOSE YOUR EYES DAMMIT” you shrieked. “My eyes are closed” Casper laughs. You pout and whine. “Fine Fine here. “ Casper closes his eyes as you settle something in his hands. He opens his eyes and found an I-Pad??? “Are you giving me this I-Pad back ?? Do you not like it sweetie ?? Should I give you something else for our 100 days anniversary ???

Yes. you and Casper celebrated your 100 days of friendship relationship. On which he took you out for dinner date and surprised shocks you by giving you everything that you had set an eye on for past 100 days.

“ Cas.. I can’t take this. This is too much “ you relented. “ This isn’t too much. further, I even lost the receipts, I can’t even return them. Wouldn’t it go waste now ?? Do you not like the gifts ?? Do you want me to buy something else for you ?? do you not like me anymore ?? Are you going to leave me ??? “ And you could do nothing but accept them when you saw fat tears rolling down the man baby’s flushed cheeks, not noticing the smirk he had while you hugged and soothed him. It took you all night to make him believe that you are not going anywhere.

Like, you could even do that until he is alive.

“No Caz~. I’m not giving you the I-pad back. I really liked it. “ you blurted out quickly to not hurt the boy’s feelings again.

“I want you to open the I-Pad and see what I have made.” you smiled. Casper let out the breath that he had held for so long. He opens the screen and almost faints when he sees a cute doodle of him and you clicking a selfie followed by other doodles that you had made from your recent pictures. “ I know this is stupid and-” “this is not stupid. This is so good. Can you send me those ???” Casper cuts you of and begs you for the pictures, which you send him immediately.

After an hour

“I think I should leave, it’s quite dark” the male suggested. You looked out the window to witness the light. “ Are you dumb Cas??? It’s so dark and foggy out, you should stay here for ever tonight. “ It’s alright. I don’t want to cause any problems" Casper suggests silently begging universe to make him stay. “ Well, if you don’t know, I would like to tell you that recent studies say that a man should never say no to his cute girl.” you quoted in a heavy voice (imitating Cas), to which you both laughed and Casper got to stay.

“ How about we order a takeout and pick a movie ??” Casper recommended. “ I would really appreciate that, but I think we should change to something more comfy. How about you take a bath first. I have some oversized clothes that might fit you” you suggested. “I like the sound of that” Casper replies.

You hand Casper a pair of your oversized sweats and a shirt ( with acted more like a compression shirt ). Casper enters your bathroom and the smell of your cologne fills his senses and faints him one more time. His breath becomes heavy, mind started melting and legs started shaking. Suddenly his eyes fell to the laundry basket which was tucked in corner only for him to see. He hopes you don’t mind some of your things panties being stolen.

After all you are his, right ?

“How about iron man ???”

“Horror”

“Spider-Man ???”

“Horror”

“Twilight ??”

“Horror.. Casss…… Please… I can handle it” you pout and cross your hand tightly on your chest. Which may or may not have lifted your assets, showing of something pointy through your silky nightwear. And Casper couldn’t argue further. Who was he to say no to your tight hugs during the movie ?? Who was he to say no to you when you asked to sleep with him because you were afraid ?? Who was he to say no when you cuddled him and rested your head in the crook of his neck in the sleep ?? Who was he to say no when you stuffed his face in your chest and traced his back in sleep ?? Who was he to say no when your thigh accidently brushed his bulge in sleep ??

You were really testing him. Weren’t you ??

Tag List - @daytej, @keepghostly

Requests are open.

Join my taglist - Here or let me know in the comments ;)

[omegalomania]

i just think theyre neat

[stop-talking]

No Abby, we're not getting ice cream.

Silly little fic about Mike and Abby going shopping. (Mike's POV)

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: Mike & Abby, bonding, sibling love, fluff, Mike's POV, pre-movie.

This is just a cute little one-off about Mike being the single mother he is. I love him.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike watched as Abby swung a leg over the side of the shopping cart and climbed in. She was getting a little too big for this, taking up nearly the entire cart. Oh well. Not like he could afford to buy much anyways.

"Okay Abbs, remind me what we're here for?" He asked, giving the cart a solid push to get it rolling.

"Dinner."

"And that means?"

"No asking for junk." Abby droned the words off in a monotone voice, and gave him a flat look. She didn't like to go shopping unless there was something in it for her, Mike knew, but he didn't exactly have anyone home to watch her.

"Here, you wanna hold the list for me?" He offered her a little yellow notepad and a pen from his pocket in an attempt to cheer her up. She eyed him for a moment, then snatched it up and started to doodle on the shopping list.

Mike sighed as he looked down at his little sister. Yeah, she was definitely a little too old to be in the buggy. She stopped fitting in the little seat up front years ago, so now she sat in the main area, legs scrunched to make room for groceries.

He probably should let her walk, but she had a tendency to... wander. And give Mike heart attacks. He always spent too long deciding what to get, or so Abby had told him. Sometimes he'd get lost in thought while calculating the best deal on a can of soup or the like, and realize too late that Abby was no longer by his side.

This usually resulted in him running through the isles and yelling her name, much to Abby's embarrassment. Hell, it embarrassed him too, but he'd rather be embarrassed than end up losing her.

"Hellooo, Mike? Earth to Mike?"

He snapped back into focus as Abby impatiently tapped the metal shopping cart with her pen.

"You passed, like, three things we need. Turn around."

Mike huffed and turned the cart around as dramatically as possible, slinging his sister back with the sudden change in direction. He got weird looks from a couple other shoppers, but it earned him a laugh from Abby, so he didn't care.

"What did I miss? Onions?" He tried to lean over and peek at the grocery list as he wheeled the cart back towards the produce section.

"Hey! You said I could hold the list." Abby held the yellow notepad to her chest protectively, determined not to let him see it.

"Fine. But no funny business. We're only getting what I wrote on there, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just take us that way." Abby waved a dismissive hand in the general direction she wanted him to go, and Mike listened.

"Potatoes, onions, and... co... ca... con...?" She squinted at the list, struggling to read one of the words.

"Carrots." Mike corrected her, already putting a bag of potatoes into the cart.

"Your handwriting is terrible. Aren't grown-ups supposed to write better than toddlers?"

"Maybe you could read it better if you hadn't drawn all over the list already."

Abby stuck her tongue out at him, and the corners of Mike's mouth twinged up into a slight smile.

"Where to next, little lady?"

"The... can isle?"

"You don't sound very sure."

"Just push the cart, mule."

Mike stopped smiling at that. Brat.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"You want corn or peas tonight?" Mike held out two cans to Abby, who pointed to the corn. He dropped it into the cart.

"Can we get soup too?" She reached out to grab a can, but Mike was already wheeling her into the next isle.

"We have some at home."

"Yeah, cream of mushroom. Who even eats that?"

"You do. Every time I make casserole."

"...gross."

Mike chucked to himself as they rounded the corner into the freezer section.

"What did we need from here again?"

Abby quickly scanned the list, they were most of the way through it now.

"Fish sticks... and ice cream."

Mike paused. One of those things was definetly not on the list.

"Abby. We're not getting ice cream."

"But it's on the list!" She held up the grocery list, which she'd apparently made many edits to. It has little doodles all over it, some items have been crossed off, and she'd added a couple things of her own.

Before he could argue back, a young girl, probably around five years or so, pointed and shouted something at Abby.

"Look, Mommy! Isn't she too old for the buggy?"

The girl's mother, who looked truly mortified, tugged the girl along by her arm and hissed something about it being rude to point.

Abby stuck her tongue out at the little girl, but Mike turned to her mother. She looked tired. He could understand that. He could also understand raising a little hellspawn.

He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he must not have done a very good job. The woman just turned and sped off, dragging her child around the corner and out of sight. Damnit.

"Chocolate or strawberry?" While he wasn't looking, Abby had leaned over the side of the cart and poked through the freezer.

"Chocolate." He finally relented, sighing as his little sister happily placed a carton of ice cream in the cart. Oh well. They hadn't bought any in a month or so.

"Thanks Mike! You're the best!" Abby blinked up at him with a false innocence. He saw through her little act.

"Yeah, yeah. We're not getting any other unnecessary crap." He grumbled, but still found it hard to fight back a smile. Why did she have to be so cute, even when she got on his nerves?

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

They bought other unnecessary crap.

Two boxes of cereal, a bag of chips, and a half-gallon of chocolate milk later, Mike blinked down at the total. Nearly fifteen dollars over budget. Damnit.

He handed the lady at the register a few bills with a tired smile. Oh well. He'd just skip lunch at work for the next couple days to make up for it. Mall food was over-priced anyways.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Do the thing!" Abby pleaded with him, making a truly pitiful pout as he pushed the cart out of store, with her still in it.

"What thing?"

"You know. The thing."

Mike rolled his eyes, but complied. He put one foot on the underside of the cart, and used the other to push off, sending it flying through the parking lot. Abby squealed in delight, which made him smile.

The damn thing would probably tip over if she wasn't sitting on the opposite end to balance things out. As it rattled through the uneven pavement, It teetered, as if threatening to do just that.

"Don't get used to this." Mike started, scraping his shoe along the pavement to slow them as they approached his beat-up Honda Accord.

"We're not getting all this junk next time."

Abby pretended his scolding got through to her, hanging her head as she helped him load groceries into the car.

Mike pretended to believe his words too, but he knew as well as she did that their next shopping trip would go much the same way.

Brat.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: Thanks for all the love on my last fanfic?? Part one got 100 notes?? I'll post the first chapter of a Derek Danforth fic soon, so stick around. I just had this in my drafts for the past few days. I love Mike & Abby's relationship so much <3

[cherryxsapphic]

So, I have a request! (If you don’t like this request idea, you don’t have to write it!)

Marilyn x fem!(can be a student or a teacher)reader, where Marilyn is extremely overprotective over reader. R is used to her pritective nature, but it sometimes goes a bit too far, when Marilyn won’t let r hangout w her friends or go out in a certain outfit. Or when someone tries to hit on r, she would immediately come over and wrap her hand around r’s waist.

So basically just overprotective Marilyn, maybe some angst! You can choose how it goes!

Take your time <3

This is for the lovely @m1lflov3rrr I am dreadfully sorry that it took me literal months to even put this out, but I do hope you enjoy!!🍒

Also a special thanks to my pookie bear @h-doodles for helping me with this, I couldn't have done this without you!! 🥰

You were sitting down peacefully in the quad by yourself. Sandwich in hand as you jam out to some music blaring through your earbuds, bobbing your head slightly to the rhythm when you suddenly feel a sharp fingernail aggressively tapping your right shoulder. You jumped slightly at the sudden interruption, whipping your head towards the person in question, setting them with an annoyed look only to soften when you realized it was just Enid, Enid Sinclair, the local colorful werewolf. You take a moment to pause your music and pull out your earbuds, setting them down gently on the table alongside your forgotten sandwich. Spinning your body around the school bench, finally giving the very excited wolf your full attention, looking up at her from your seated position, you give her a sheepish smile before speaking.

“Sorry, Enid! I was so caught up in my music that I didn’t notice you there!”  

"I know, silly! You've been hard to see around these past few weeks, so I just HAD to come over."

"I got busy…" You fight to keep your blush down as you think of what, or more accurately, who exactly got you busy. "My schoolwork has been slipping, so I asked a few teachers for extra work." You say, to cover it up.

Enid nods, understanding. Being a student with academic achievements, she often saw you poring over textbooks in the library OR trailing after your teachers for extra lessons during your free time, orders from your strict parents who monitored your progress over your head. “Well,” she starts, clasping her hands together. “Me and the girls have missed you a lot, so I wondered if you were free tonight?”

Guilt seeps into your bones when you hear the hope in her tone. You have been neglecting your friends and a dark whisper inside your brain–

“I suppose I’ve pestered our teachers enough, and I just finished passing the latest exam, so… I guess I'm free." 

“Yayyy!!!” Enid does a little happy dance before lifting you for a hug. You shouldn’t be surprised by the excitable werewolf’s strength, but you gasp a bit anyway. “We’re going to a party in the woods tonight; you HAVE to come!" 

When she finally puts you down, you sigh and shake your head. “The woods? Enid, you know Weems banned us from going there, right?”

“Don’t worry; the party is located somewhere TOTALLY safe—”

“Hey, girlies!” you stifle a scream when a cold hand suddenly touches your back. “Finally caught us a live one, huh?”

“Haha, hilarious, Tanaka.” your tone dripping with sarcasm as you turn around to give the vampire a playful slap on the hand.

“Don’t start. You’re going to the party, and I’m going to your dorm later to ensure you’re dressed right.”

“I haven’t said yes yet!”

And here you are in your dorm room, contemplating your life choices before sighing, putting on something comfortable, and grabbing your comfort jacket that belongs to Marilyn. You put the coat to your nose and breathe in her wavering scent, wishing you were with her instead of going to this stupid forest party. Falling on your bed, you bend over clumsily, grabbing your shoes off the ground and putting them on as you were just finishing tying your shoes—

Yoko and the FUCKING Scooby gang burst into your room like a pile of rats searching for cheese. 

“Girliepop, you’re not wearing THAT to the party, right?” Yoko asked, looking you up and down.

While holding Mari's jacket, you looked down at your black jeans, red Converse, and a favorite baggy shirt. Then back to Yoko, who opened your closet and rifled through your clothes while Enid talked animatedly to a sulking Wednesday.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

Yoko pointedly looks at you and pulls out a short, skimpy dress. You blush as you remember Marilyn telling you it was a dress for her eyes only and that you would never wear it out. “You’re simply holding out on us, omg.”

"Yeah, the party's in the woods, so that's a hard NO on wearing that one!"

"Oh come on, what's the point of having that snack of a body if you aren't gonna use the right wrappers?"

"Listen, my tits spill out in one move in that one, and I'd rather die than return it to the store because of anxiety, so you can just. Pick another one… please?"

Yoko pouts but acquiesces to your pleading. Flipping through some more, she finds a similar-looking skimpy dress, but a little longer than you were confident you'd make out with your dignity half-intact.

"Here."

"Oooh!" Enid moves over, done pestering Wednesday for the moment, and oohs and ahs over the dress before starting again. "Pair it with the heeled boots, and wear tights if you're concerned about the cold."

"I mean. I'm bringing along this jacket, but why heeled boots—”

“Because we said so. Now hop to it.”

Throwing your hands up, you take the new outfit and walk to your bathroom to change. 

The party in the woods was in full swing, the rhythmic beat of music mingling with the laughter and chatter of the gathered crowd. Strings of fairy lights adorned the trees, casting a warm, enchanting glow over the makeshift dance floor. Enid, the excitable werewolf, led the charge in festivities, dragging you into the heart of the celebration.

As the night unfolded, the atmosphere grew electric, the energy contagious. You found yourself dancing with newfound friends, the pulsating music drowning out any lingering doubts. However, the borrowed outfit — a compromise between your comfort and the party's expectations — seemed to attract more attention than you anticipated.

Yoko, the lively vampire, strutted over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Girl, you're the life of the party! Everyone's talking about that dress!"

You blushed, feeling both flattered and self-conscious. The beats throbbed louder, urging you to lose yourself in the music, and you obliged, dancing away the concerns that nagged at the edges of your mind.

But as the night wore on, a discordant note disrupted the harmony. The distant growls of the creature you encountered earlier echoed through the trees, casting a shadow over the revelry. The carefree atmosphere shifted, and hushed whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.

Enid, always exuberant, tried to downplay the unease. "Guys, it's probably just some forest critter. Don't let it ruin the party!"

Yet, the anxiety lingered, and a subtle tension threaded its way through the crowd. The music played on, but the once carefree dancing took on a more cautious rhythm.

Suddenly, the distant growls escalated into a deafening roar, and panic rippled through the partygoers. People scattered in all directions, the fairy lights casting eerie shadows as they dashed for cover.

Enid grabbed your arm, eyes wide with fear. "We need to get back to the school—now!"

Chaos ensued as the revelry devolved into a frenzied scramble. The once lively dance floor transformed into a chaotic scene of stumbling figures, their laughter replaced by shouts of panic.

As you ran back toward the safety of Nevermore, you couldn't shake the feeling that the creature's pursuit was closing in. The enchanted woods, once a backdrop for joyous gatherings, now harbored an ominous threat.

The party had taken a turn no one expected, leaving a trail of chaos in its wake. In the midst of the pandemonium, you yearned for the familiar embrace of Marilyn's jacket, a reminder of comfort amid the unforeseen disaster that had unfolded in the enchanted night.

‘I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die, and it’s MY fault.’ I scream inside my head while I dart left and right through the trees. Protip: do not wear heels when going into the woods. Scratch that. Trust no one except Mari. Everyone is dumb EXCEPT Mari, especially when they say the woods are safe, there is NO monster, and you’re going to have SUCH a good time.

I could’ve enjoyed a nice cuddling session with Mari if I just stayed in bed and waited for her like usual, but no. I had to let myself get guilted and dragged to this party in these stupid heels and dress, and now I’m being chased by a BEAST, and I don’t even have my phone to give Mommy my goodbyes!’ 

The monster roars somewhere closer behind me, and I feel like I will have a HEART ATTACK! But I'll be fine once I get to the school, and look, there's the Hogwarts-looking building right there. So I just keep running. Thinking I'll be okay, my dumbass trips over a branch, and suddenly, I just want to give up. I feel like those dumb girls in those low-budget horror films.

As you scramble to your feet, panic gripping you like a vice, you hear the menacing growls of the pursuing creature drawing near. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you sprint toward the safety of the school building, your heels abandoned in the unforgiving underbrush.

The imposing silhouette of Nevermore looms ahead, a beacon of hope in the darkness. The monster's roars reverberate through the trees, pushing you to run faster, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Just when you think the creature is on the verge of catching you, the school's entrance comes into view. You burst through the doors, heart pounding, and slam them shut behind you, momentarily cutting off the creature's menacing sounds.

Safe within the confines of the school, you lean against the door, catching your breath. The echo of your heartbeats seems to drown out the lingering fear. The school hallway stretches before you, the familiar surroundings offering a stark contrast to the perilous adventure you just survived.

As you compose yourself, you realize that the night took an unexpected turn, and your friends might not have been entirely truthful about the safety of the woods. Thoughts of Marilyn flood your mind, and a profound longing for the comfort of her presence washes over you.

You decide to retreat to the quietude of your dorm room, shedding the borrowed outfit and slipping into the familiar warmth of Marilyn's jacket. The scent provides solace, grounding you in the reality that, despite the night's chaos, you are safe within the walls of Nevermore.

Reflecting on the events, you vow to prioritize your own well-being and not succumb to peer pressure. As you drift into a contemplative state, you can't help but yearn for the simplicity of sharing a peaceful moment with Marilyn, free from the chaos that lurks beyond the safety of Nevermore's embrace. 

To be continued…

Sorry for the lack of Marilyn in this chapter but don't worry there will be more in part 2, if y'all want a part 2 you that is?? 🤭

Tags: @s1nful-sa1nt @sssappling2004 @marilynthornhill @proton-selfships @philip-15 @luucyyyy (and anyone else who wants to be tagged ♡)

[pineappleciders]

hello hello hello hi!!!! seeing ur writing rq's are open could I request mari, basil, sunny, and hero with an s/o whos gotta stay in the hospital for a week?? It'd be cool since I had to stay in the hospital for a week diagnosed w a life long illness and . none of my friends visited 😭 have a wonderful silly day!!!!

MARI, BASIL, HERO, and SUNNY with an S/O who's been hospitalized

A/N: HELLO!! i hope you are doing well, being in the hospital SUCKS and i'm so sorry that nobody visited😭😭i hope everything gets better for you, plz stay safe❤️

MARI

she hates it when you aren't doing well,, she'll visit you every day and stay for as long as she can

she'll bring you fresh flowers every time and will always talk w you about anything and everything. she'll tell you how your friends have been and about the grade she got on her quiz ... literally anything in hopes of distracting both you and her of your state

i think she likes to sew so she'll sew you a little blanket or even a plushie to keep you comfort

gets a little upset whenever she has to leave the room ... she's fighting tooth and nail with the doctors to let her in

bakes cookies for you and u two eat them together . honestly if she had it her way you'd be completely under her care but,,, sigghh,,, she supposes that the doctors know what's best.... smh

if you're feeling well enough to eat she'll always help you do so. even if you insist that you can do it by yourself . she's almost like an over-doting mother in some ways

WILL sing/hum you lullabies when you're tired. you cannot refuse. she will also tuck you in and kiss your forehead . just for good measure

BASIL

he can't help but worry . he's honestly pretty anxious knowing you're not doing well but he doesn't show it in front of you ,, he doesn't want to stress you out even more

he'll send you cards every single day that he can't make it in person ,, they have little doodles on them and you can tell they're made with love

he brings you potted plants and tells you all about them. he hopes that it helps you get your mind off of everything for awhile !!

"this is an echinacea, or the coneflower! it's been used for antibiotic and medicinal treatment for centuries. it symbolizes healing and strength. here, it's for you."

he'll hold you hand and you can't help but notice how nervous he gets when doctors come in ... he really doesn't want to leave but he understands

he tries to comfort you during uncomfortable times ... like when you have to get your blood drawn or having to take medicine. he'll smile and tell you that he's proud and that he'll get you ice cream when you're out if you follow the doctor's instructions

HERO

he's always talking about what you two are gonna do together when you get out of the hospital,, like going to a carnival and getting ice cream and how excited HECTOR will be to see you again

he doesn't like seeing you unwell but he tries to stay positive and make the best of it!!!

brings you anything you might need from home. drawing materials? plushies? electronics? your favorite blanket? he has it all

he likes to eat meals with you in your room and just talk about everything. he'll tell you about how everyone misses you and he'll lowkey be trying not to cry in front of you

he wants to cook for you SO BAD but the hospital always has meals set up for you already :( so instead he'll bring you little snacks like cookies throughout the day

doesn't want to leave the room at all,,, he'll bring in a laptop and do his classes online and everything

worried very easily,, always warns you to take it easy and slow down if you're getting up or something. he doesn't mean to be overbearing— he just really wants you to be careful!!

SUNNY

he HATES it god :(( he absolutely hates it when you're sick and hospitalized,, he already hates hospitals so he just. is Not Having a good time

but he doesn't want to make it more stressful for you so he tries his best to be there for you

admittedly might spend more less time with you in the hospital just because he can't stand it. but he tries his best to not be selfish and spend time with you when he can

he's a little embarrassed about it but he'll draw pictures of you and give them to you,, don't talk about it too much or show anyone though, he'll never forgive you

encourages you to take your medicine and eat well,, he's not as overwhelming as MARI or HERO but he still cares a lot, just has a different way of showing it

he'll rant about his interests and stuff that's been going on recently to distract you from everything.. he might get a little bit distracted and rant for the entire night so be sure to tell him when you've had enough

may or may not fall asleep with his head on your bed,,, or your lap,,,, holding your hand,,, mayhaps,,,,,