#Also my cat is eating a cardboard box on the floor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hygieiapides-the-vulgar · 9 months ago

Text

Fletcher thoughtfully dredged his spoon through a bowl of slowly diluting cereal and milk. Occasionally he looked up and glanced around the kitchen. There were still several unpacked cardboard boxes on the counter labeled Kitchen, Books, or Winter Clothes 2. Despite the labels, they contained dishes. Parts of the disassembled kitchen table from Ikea that they had started assembling the night before were strewn across the floor. After a few hours of puzzling over the instructions, which for some unknown reason were only given in Korean, they decided to give up and go to bed. This was also the reason why Tletcher was now eating breakfast with his bowl placed on top of several other boxes he had stacked. He guessed they would have to put the table together, but just the thought gave him the creeps. A large gray cat walked into the kitchen from the open bedroom door. She stretched and headed over to Fletcher, hoping he would make her something good for breakfast. Fetcher, of course, had no idea where the kibble was. After a few minutes of searching, accompanied by pitiful meowing, he gave up and headed for the bedroom. He leaned against the door frame and peered in.

"Mia?" The figure lying in the middle of the double bed grunted disapprovingly and burrowed deeper into the tangle of blankets and pillows. "Mia, do you know where we put Bean's pellets?" There was another inarticulate sound that sounded suspiciously like In the canned food box. Fletcher nodded and was about to leave the bedroom again before pausing at the last moment. "I hope you're not going to sleep until lunch. We've still got that desk waiting for us, not to mention the hall shoe rack. And we were going to hang the curtains, too, if I remember correctly." This time the grumble sounded almost like Get on my back.

Fletcher first meets Mia seven years ago. He's sitting at his favorite table in a coffee shop a few blocks from his apartment, quietly reading a dog-eared copy of King's It and sipping a slowly cooling cappuccino. The establishment's silence is broken only by the occasional clink of dishes. His idyll is suddenly shattered when a complete stranger sits down on the seat opposite him and grabs his arm. "Hi, I'm Mia, and the guy who just walked in here is my ex who got my name tattooed on his arm after we'd been dating for three weeks, so please, please, could you pretend for a minute that we're dating and we're terribly happy?" Fletcher stares uncomprehendingly at the hand the newcomer is clutching for a moment, then lifts his head and looks towards the bar where the aforementioned man in the leather jacket is standing. He doesn't look particularly psychopathic, but first impressions can be deceiving. It doesn't take long for him to notice them. Mia pulls her head down between her shoulders, her gaze fixed on the tabletop as if the secret of life were engraved on it. "Hello, Mia," the man greets them when he reaches their table.

"Um... long time no see, Paul," Mia replies a little uncertainly, lifting her head and smiling. Fletcher can't help but notice how insincere that smile is. "You have a date here?" asks Paul a little too casually, turning to Fletcher, who hasn't said a word yet. "Well..." Mia looks questioningly at Fletcher, her eyes screaming at him for help. "I'm Fletcher, Mia and I have only been together for a little while. And you are?" says Fletcher, giving Paul an effortless grin. "Just... an acquaintance. I won't intrude." Paul stands awkwardly in place for a moment before shrugging and heading for the exit again. With a sigh of relief, Mia lets go of Fletcher's hand and collapses deeper into her seat.

============== "Thanks. Every time I meet him, he begs to come back to me. And since I'm more inclined to ask for a restraining order, the conversations don't end pleasantly." "I can imagine. What's stopping you from asking for a restraining order?" Mia throws her arms around. "I'm too good a soul for that." She glances at her watch and, barely realizing what time it is, quickly gets up and throws her rainbow-print bag over her shoulder. "Well, it's been a pleasure, Fletcher," he says, slowly getting ready to leave. He pulls his hat and glove out of the bag as the first snowflakes begin to fly outside the window. "Likewise." Mia stops at the cash register, says something to the attendant behind the bar and hands the waiter a bill. "More coffee's on me," she calls to Fletcher one last time, waving at him and disappearing through the door. Fletcher doesn't expect to ever see Mia again, but it doesn't take a month.

"What makes a man get your name tattooed on his shoulder?" Mia looks up in surprise. It takes a moment to place Fletcher's face in the right drawer, but she finally smiles in surprise. "You know, charming personality and an unhealthily extensive knowledge of Star Wars." "Nothing brings one to their knees more than the principle of how a lightsaber works," shrugs the girl sitting next to Mia, rummaging through a pencil case full of colored markers. Fletcher suspects he's mistaking Mia for a sketchbook, because of course he notices the intricate drawings that cover Mia's arm from the back of her hand to the hem of her short-sleeved shirt. Some of it is Celtic symbols, some floral designs, some comic book characters, and what's on Mia's elbow looks a bit like Ian McKellen.

==== "Aren't you afraid of blood poisoning?" he wonders, but Mia waves her free hand. "That's just a rumor. And if not, Stephany poisoned me a long time ago." The named girl looks at Fletcher searchingly. "Wait, aren't you the handsome guy who saved Mia from Mr. Court-ordered-for-knocking-on-doors?" She asks, opening a red marker and continuing her artwork. This time, he paints a pre-drawn outline of the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland. "Handsome?" Fletcher wonders, raising his eyebrows in question. "Well, I have eyes, and this one asked if you were at least handsome. And of course I'm not going to lie to her." Mia tries to look innocent, but Fletcher doesn't quite believe it. Stephany finishes the drawing in a few strokes. "All done. You can go and advertise for me." Mia stretches her shoulder and rises from the bench. "So, you study here?" she wonders, because they're in the lobby of the university library. "I'm pretending to be." = "In that case, we're on the same page." Stephany puts her markers back in her backpack and as she pulls the zipper down she remarks, "How about you stop making eyes at each other in public and go to the bakery next door for a cupcake instead?" Mia turns to Fletcher with a question in her brown eyes. "What's your opinion on cupcakes?" "I have nothing against them."

They become friends. In less than two years they make a merger of their friends, so that they are both part of the same group of friends. Fletcher serves as a fake friend a few more times, but since he gets either coffee, pizza or beer from Mia every time in return, he doesn't complain. They're at the same university, just each in a different department, so they see each other almost daily. They go out for a beer at least once a week to complain about life and their horrible roommates, and generally spend more time together than they do with their other friends, so when the second year they've known each other slowly rolls around, there's no denying that they're best friends. The first time they live together is completely platonic, and it happens by sheer coincidence. Mia is awakened in the middle of the night by the tinkling of the doorbell. She struggles to roll out from under the covers and squints sleepily at the alarm clock. It reads 3:30 in the morning. Mia rubs her eyes with the back of her hand and heads for the door when the doorbell rings a second time. "I'm coming, I'm coming! And I hope whoever it is has a good reason for dragging me out of bed at this ungodly hour," she calls through the door as she removes the safety chain.

He's finally opening the door. Fletcher is standing on the threshold, looking so desperate that if it hadn't been close to four in the morning, Mia might have been moved. Unfortunately, four o'clock is just around the corner and Mia has no mercy. "Can I help you, honey?" she asks gruffly, brushing her messy hair out of her eyes and straightening the enormous concert T-shirt she's using in place of pajamas. "You know how I mentioned that my overpriced roommate is an idiot and I can't stand living with him another day?" "I vaguely remember something. I know you were so jealous at the time that my roommate decided to move out, which means I have the apartment to myself, at least until I find a replacement. More to the point." Mia folds her arms across her chest and leans against the doorjamb. She half tries to look tough and half tries to stop gravity from doing its job with them. "Well, apparently he thought so too, and after he came out of the bar at two in the morning and threw up on our doormat, we had a fight. One thing led to another and now I don't have a place to live." "YOU don't have a place to live?"

"It was a pretty complicated argument," Fletcher shrugs. "Anyway, since it's common knowledge that we're best friends, I hope you'll accept your responsibility and take care of me. After all... you're looking for a roommate, right?" Mia looks at him for a moment, and Fletcher isn't sure if she's considering murdering him. After all, Mia and involuntarily leaving his bed... that doesn't exactly go well together. "You know I'd crawl on rooftops for you if you wanted me to, but living together? When I live with someone, I gradually come to hate them. And I love you, and I'm not sure I want to risk it." "At least for a few days until I find something of my own." Finally, Mia lowers her head in defeat and steps aside so Fletcher can come in. "What I won't do for you," she shakes her head in disbelief at her own decision. "You've got it on me." "I do," Mia agrees, heading back into the bedroom. "Spread out the couch where I have a spare blanket you know and expect breakfast in bed in the morning. And you'll have to get a bed because your predecessor took his with him." "You're the best." "Sometimes I regret we ever met."

They end up living together for over nine months. Their friends (and especially Stephany) joke that they've finally gotten over themselves and gotten it together the way everyone has long suspected. Fletcher takes it as a joke until the day his sister comes to visit. "Why don't you ask Mia out?" Fletcher looks up in surprise from the sink where he's washing dishes from dinner. His sister Alice sits at the table, curling a strand of blonde hair on her finger and examining a framed picture hanging on the wall that Stephany painted for him as a housewarming gift. "Why would I ask Mia out on a date?" asks Fletcher, cautiously putting down his towel. "Because deep down you've been wanting to do it ever since you pretended how badly in love you were the first time you met?" Alice grins at him, pushing a chair away from the table with the toe of her shoe as if to invite her brother to sit across from her. "But I don't want to date Mia," Fletcher says, sitting down.

Alice leans her elbows on the table top and leans closer to him. "Oh, come on, don't flatter me, Fletch. You and Mia have basically been dating for almost three years. You've even been living together." "Trust me, there's nothing going on between Mia and me," he assures her, but Alice shakes her head as her blonde curls bounce back and forth. "You love Mia, and definitely not just in the friendly way." Fletcher stares at the table. He's never given it a second thought. Stephany and the others are always digging them, but he's never taken them seriously. It wasn't until his sweet, innocent younger sister, who was always and everywhere honest, said it that he wondered if she was really seeing something he, Fletcher, was overlooking. "We're just friends," he finally says, but he doesn't sound as convinced as he'd like. "Are you sure?" Fletcher suddenly isn't sure. Mia is his roommate. His accomplice. Amigo. Not someone he could fall in love with. No?

"Mia?" "Hm?" "Did you ever think that you and I could date?" "Don't you remember how we met? Of course I thought about it." "No, I mean... not just for show because of Paul... but like... normally. Just dating." Mia reaches for the remote and pauses the movie they decided to watch that night. Since they haven't been living together again since Fletcher finally found his own apartment, they've been having a movie night every Friday, a habit that started when they were roommates and they don't want to change now. "Why all of a sudden?" Mia frowns. Fletcher thinks for a moment about what to say in response when Mia speaks up again. "No, wait, let me guess. Alice." Fletcher nods. His ex-roommate lifts her legs onto the couch and settles into a Turkish sit. "I don't know. We've been friends for, what, three years? Sure, I've probably thought about it sometime during that time, but..." He lets the unfinished sentence hang in the air. There's a bit of an awkward silence. Fletcher has never experienced an awkward silence with Mia. That was the amazing thing about their relationship. Nothing awkward, just a genuine, damn satisfying friendship. He's starting to regret bringing it up at all. He's just about to sweep the whole conversation under the rug when suddenly Mia turns to face him and grabs the back of his head. ====== He didn't think he'd ever kiss Mia except on New Year's Eve or at a bottle game organized by his then very drunk friend Lucas to celebrate his birthday. And lo and behold... it's happening. Mia still has her hands in his hair and doesn't seem to be breaking the kiss. In the end, it's Fletcher who pulls away first because his lungs are screaming for oxygen. Mia can't help but notice that Fletcher is looking a bit like a doe in the headlights. "So?" he asks. Fletcher clears his throat. "It was good," he says finally. "Fine?" "Fine." Mia laughs and sinks back into the pile of pillows at her end of the couch. "Let's just stay with it."

This time there's nothing to show for it. They're gonna let the whole episode fizzle out. Nothing changes between them, and that's a good thing. Probably. But Fletcher is thinking more and more about the kiss and his relationship with Mia. The kiss? He said fine, because his brain was busy with something else entirely and he didn't get a chance to go through the lexicon of superlatives he's accumulated in his life as a literature student. It was more than fine. It was about Mia, after all. Nothing was just fine with Mia. He can't imagine his life without Mia anymore. He'd miss the science fiction lectures, the 3:30 a.m. musings on the meaning of life with a bucket of ice cream, the childhood stories about how his father wanted Mia to be a soccer star, the seances filled with playing old console games... Fletcher has no one to talk to about it, and it's kind of killing him. Other times, he wouldn't hesitate to just go to Mia. The problem is... he wouldn't be comfortable with Mia on the subject. Then Stephany comes into the picture. She'd tell him to go find his balls and just talk to Mia because they've been a couple for years. He goes through all of his friends one by one. Lucas. Gabriel. Tiffany. Elliot. Felicia. Natalie. No one is suitable. He can't talk to anyone about the fact that he's probably fallen in love with Mia, and probably a long time ago, and he just hasn't seen it, just like he's been told all the time. In the end, Mia handles it for Fletcher.

One morning, he sends Fletcher a message asking if he could go to the café, saying that Mia needs to talk to him. Fletcher gets there at ten o'clock sharp. He sits down at his favorite table, orders, and waits impatiently. It takes less than five minutes before he spots Mia through the glass window. Mia notices him too and waves him over. He's wearing a striped T-shirt, red jeans, his dark hair ruffled by the wind, and Fletcher realizes what a thick mess he's in. Mia walks into the café and sits down in the chair across from Fletcher. "Hi," she greets him a little breathlessly, smiling broadly. "What's up?" Fletcher wonders, but Mia leans her elbows on the table and smiles instead of answering. "I love you."

Fletcher suddenly has the same feeling he did after their first kiss on movie night. No oxygen again, and a surprised doe face. Mia doesn't save those words for special occasions, but this time the context is a little different. "Shall I tell you again?" Mia asks, and Fletcher can see she's dead serious. Since he doesn't answer, Mia actually repeats it. "Um... I..." Of course, now Fletcher starts to stutter. Bravo. Ten out of ten, Fletcher. "So I'll continue until you put together a coherent sentence. I love you and I want to try real walking. Screw any friendship. I've got plenty of friends and I'm not going to worry about some What Ifs here ruining our friendship because that's not going to happen to us. So... what do you say, Fletch?" Fletcher looks into those brown eyes, searching for any hint of betrayal or jest. Of course, he finds nothing. Because she is Mia, after all.

They start living together for the second time six months after they get together. This time, Mia moves in with Fletcher. "Hey, Mia?" "Yes, dear?" Mia comes out of the bathroom in Fletcher's bathrobe and with a towel slung over her shoulder. "I have a question for you and... um... it's pretty awkward, considering how long we've known each other." Fletcher puts a plate of scrambled eggs on the kitchen table and allows himself to be kissed on the cheek. "Considering how long we've known each other, it's pretty embarrassing that you think there's a question that would still be embarrassing," Mia winces, sitting down to her portion and reaching for a slice of bread. Fletcher sinks into the chair across from her, still looking like he actually has something uncomfortable to say. Mia sighs theatrically. "So spit it out? What's weighing on your little heart?" she asks, propping her chin up with her hand. = "Fine, fine... just... don't get mad, okay? It didn't occur to me until last night, and I realized that I never asked about it, and actually... never got around to the information, which is a little disturbing now that I think about it." Mia quirks her eyebrows in incomprehension. "Okay, now I'm a little worried, but still... out with it." Fletcher takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "Okay. Mia, what's your actual first name." There's a long silence. "Excuse me?" Mia asks slowly, putting down her fork. "I know, I know, it's awful, but I just never thought to ask. What is Mia short for?" "We've known each other for over four years, Fletcher! I know the name of the stuffed hippo you had as a four year old. And you don't know what my first name actually is?" "Sorry! But I've never heard anyone call you anything but Mia!" Mia shakes her head in disbelief. "Well, that can't be true. My own boyfriend has no idea what my name is." "Please, please, I look sad."

Fletcher is really looking sad and resembles a kicked puppy, which Mia, as always, can't do anything against, so she gives in instead. "Michael."

Fletcher finally got Mia out of the bedroom under threat of violence. When he finally made it to the kitchen, he looked as if Fletcher had thrown his toys down the drain.

"Sometimes I really regret that we live together," he muttered, his hands buried up to his elbows in the depths of one of the cardboard boxes, searching for a jar of instant coffee.

"You should have thought of that before we bought this place," Fletcher pointed out. Mia chose to ignore him and instead of answering, picked up Bean from the floor, who was mewing loudly for attention. "You understand me, don't you, sweetheart?" The cat nuzzled its head affectionately under his chin.

"See, this is what love looks like. And don't you dare get out of bed, or I'll pull you out of it, and believe me, you won't like it," he looked back at Fletcher.

"Oh yeah, you poor thing. Next time I'll wake you up like a princess."

"No, you won't."

"You're probably right, but you never know." Mia's expression suggested she'd had just enough of Fletcher's humor for the morning. "I've known you for over seven years. We've been dating for more than half of that time, and we've lived together on and off during two-thirds of it. I know you'll never do that." Fletcher smiled condescendingly. "Okay, I'll wait until you have your first coffee before I start teasing you because I'm awesome and we haven't yet assembled a couch for you to kick me on at night." "That's a wise decision."

#text #long #story

0 notes

showing0resultsforsanity · 2 years ago

Text

So like. I'm a disaster of a human being. Truly, a hot mess. My house, tho not cramped in construction, always looks a bit like the aftermath of a tornado - especially my room. It's a big room, but god, I sure know how to make it smaller (the key is not having a place for anything bc again, I am a the panoply of dysfunction).

I also have cats. Precious furry children who eeeeh ~82% of the time wanna be in the same room as I am. And that room is (when I'm not working) usually my room. You know. The messy one. Comparatively.

Every so often I feel guilty bc they love me so much and I feel like I've done wrong by them. I wanted to turn my house into basically a cat jungle gym so they'd have plenty of enrichment, rly I just wanna spoil the shit outta them, but here they are in a messy, jungle-gymless house eating dry food bc I can't afford wet food, nor can I dispose of the cans reliably enough to not get flies -_- I can tell the clutter stresses them out bc they get a bit more irritable towards each other.

Anyway it dawned on me last time I was feeling guilty, it dawned on me that really, I could spoil them by just cleaning my room so they had more space. Wouldn't cost a thing, wouldn't require a trying to figure out logistics. So I did. Mostly. I mean, I tried. Made my bed, cleared most of the floor. The furbabies seemed quite pleased.

Anyway this was just a long way of saying you don't have to do anything elaborate to spoil your cats. I mean, they prefer cardboard boxes over cat beds. Clearly they're not often materialistic.

Also, if you can't tidy your living space for yourself, maybe you can find motivation in doing it for your cats

#cats #self care

0 notes

battymoonflower7 · 9 months ago

Text

ID: A post on the r/meth subreddit with the title "My cat was an addict". The post reads as follows: I first met her last year when i was fresh out of rehab and i was trying to get some meth in a sketchy dealer traphouse. The house's floors were covered in shattered pipe glasses and you couldn't see your front due to the so much smoke in the bathroom sized apartment. I felt deeply sorry for the cat, she was constantly meowing like screaming and tried to learn some background on her. Dealer said that he took her from its mother because he loved it so much said it was cute. I explained she needs mother more and she shouldn't drink cow's milk and eat tuna fish at this age. She was also sick she had diarrhea (i guess from the foods) and her eyes had some kind of infection (i guess from the smoke?) I tried to tell the dealer it's not good for her but he didn't really listen. So i did what i gotta do ..i put the cat in my handbag (she was so small she fitted in it) and said i gotta go and blocked him. Meet Tina she's around 1 years old now. We got clean together. I quit meth because i didn't want to give the same bad environment for her. End post.

Two images are attached of Tina. She is a white cat with black markings. In the first image she seems to be asleep on top of a soft white blanket with a toy dog next to her. In the second image Tina looks much younger, less healthy and is in a cardboard box. End ID

sobbing and crying at the woman who stole a meth addicted kitten from her dealer and then she and the kitten got clean together

142K notes · View notes

disabledprincesses · 2 years ago

Text

Why tf do we fold pjs? Oh no my shirt that literally only my stuffed animals and cat see will be wrinkly

Who exactly is going to stop me from putting my dirty clothes into a small childrens wagon to lug to the laundry room?

I feel like we really underestimate how much we can do sitting: fold? Wash dishes? Shower? Get ready in mirror? Clean? Cut up veggies?

Also no one has explained to me why i cant make my bed while still in it? Like even if I can only do 80% while in it, thats still 80%??

If i throw out all my tubber ware, and get a bunch of only one kind, I'll never have to look for lids. Same with socks!

Separating clothes by color is stupid.

We need less "I'm gonna stack these nicely here so they look nice" and more "I have 85 nice boxes from Joann fabrics, each one has things it in because the boxes hide the fucks I don't give. Socks go in here, papers i need go in here, candles over there, art supplies, pet stuff, meds, pants, books, blankets, makeup, pillows, etc."

Normalize crawling around on your floor to pick up things and tossing them over to the corner of the room closest to where they belong so you can then crawl over there and sit while putting them away.

Normalize screaming.

Why must we eat so many things that we do not like? If I like 5/400 veggies, guess what? Im gonna get so many vitamins from them and anything I'm missing I'm gonna get from other food groups! Its pretty unlikely that I'm missing a crap ton of vitamins when most veggies got 7/10 of the vitamins you need.

Normalize purposefully planning to do nothing at certain times of the day. Sorry I can't go to the park, I'm staring at my wall for 45 minutes at that time, today is the west wall :)

Why do I need to do anything for attention from my friends/partner, why can't I just tell someone I want attention and get my sim bar filled then and there?

All cardboard boxes are canvases waiting for the day.

Why do we even have large spoons in our houses anymore?? We always say we hate them and then we have like 20!!

Let go of the idea that anything is written in stone

#disability #disabled #spoonie #chronic illness #chronically ill #chronic pain #autism #actuallyautistic #aspie #actually aspie #actually adhd #adhd #mental health #chronic fatigue #depression #mental illness

2K notes · View notes

spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Text

*house call // wes (Dollface)*

ssummary: when her pet cat gives her a scare, Reader decides to call the vet to make sure everything is going to be okay.

pairing: Fem!Reader x Wes

word count: 5.4k

content warnings: discussion of cannabis/cannabis consumption, unprotected penetrative sex, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), SoftDom!Wes, breeding kink, creampie.

request: can you do a wes smutty one shot if you’re down?!

A/N: to be fair, i haven’t watched Dollface in a minute, but i’m obsessed with the domestic vibes that Matthew gives off when he plays Wes and i just thought it would be super cute. anyway, this was super fun also i wanna fuck Wes. ok enjoy!

masterlist

the absolute best part of your day is when the package arrives at your doorstep. you impulse-purchased it about two weeks ago while you were hanging out with one of your close friends, and you've been looking forward to trying it every day since.

or, really, for your cat to try it.

you've read reviews and been extremely diligent to make sure the stuff is completely safe, and everything you've seen or read was singing the praises of this cat weed (which isn't actually cannabis at all, but catnip made to look like it).

as you take the cardboard box to the kitchen table and pry open the top with the help of a Swiss army knife, you're grinning. Klimt comes scampering into the room to see what all the fuss is about, sitting at your feet with his tail curled around his legs.

"no peeking." you scold him gently. your kitten, the friendliest little rescue tabby around, simply stares blankly back. when you remove the wrapping from the glass jar and stare at it up close, you're impressed by how realistic it looks. the label shows cat-friendly ingredients only, but you unscrew the top and get a whiff of catnip.

Klimt begins to weave in between your legs, nudging them affectionately and beginning to purr. you giggle and bend down to give him a few pets. his nose twitches; he tries to sniff at the foreign object, but you put it back on the table.

"don't be greedy, babe." you scratch between his pointed ears and he lets out a whiny meow.

it's about his dinner time, and you were hoping to give him his treat tonight after he finishes his dry food. so you make yourself something simple with the leftovers in your fridge and do some more work on your laptop while you two eat together.

you've had Klimt for a while, now. you call him a kitten even though he's a full-grown cat-- he's just as playful and enthusiastic as any newborn. his eyes are the color of meadow grass, and his nose is scattered with tiny freckles. it makes him look like he's just come from digging around the backyard, but it really just adds to his charm.

not to mention his ceaselessly social tendencies: Klimt is always around when your friends come over, worming his way in between you or sitting on one of the free chair cushions to listen. you wonder if he knows what you're saying sometimes, because when you talk about the embarrassing things you've done that day or the failed interactions you've had, he always lifts his head to give you something of a judgmental stare.

once you've settled down for the evening and turned on the TV, you decide that now is the time. Klimt is aimlessly poking at a few of his toys. he bats at a fake mouse between his paws.

"kitten," you click your tongue and get up to grab the jar. "are you ready to try this stuff?"

as if he's going to answer. he hears your footsteps coming back his way and watches patiently. it's only when you pour out a little bit in front of him that he gets curious about the stuff. you admire his movements as he bends down and examines.

although you keep an eye on him while watching your show, you don't notice much of a change in him. he starts to roll about on the floor, which is to be expected, but it's only when he starts to chase around his fake mouse that things get interesting.

you laugh as Klimt goes nuts, jumping back and attacking the thing like he's ready to come in for the kill. it's really funny, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. you told your friend that you were doing this tonight.

"hi!" you answer the FaceTime call right away.

"how is he?" you can hear the smile in Andi's voice as you turn the camera.

"he's loving it."

"oh my god," she laughs. Klimt arches his back, leaping so highly in the air, you raise your eyebrows. "I wonder how long it'll last." she muses.

"I'm guessing we'll get about an hour more of this before he passes out for the next two days." you joke. he gets strong bursts of energy usually, but they only last so long until he's curled up on the window sill or in your bed.

Andi and you talk for a while as Klimt tires himself out and plays with all of his favorite toys. you dangle a string in front of him for a decent amount of time, too, just to make him get up on his hindquarters. he's a natural entertainer, a lithe little thing who lets out a few irritated meows to demonstrate his impertinence.

after about forty-five minutes, however, you notice your cat's behavior change. he keeps raising his hackles and rolling about, and something about it makes you nervous. he doesn't usually act like this, not even when he plays with the other catnip toys he's accumulated.

"what's wrong?" Andi notes your furrowed brow as you look past the camera of your phone and at your pet.

"he's just acting really weird," you pat the couch cushion to call him over, but he doesn't even glance up. "I don't know why."

"maybe it's the cat weed." she suggests. you purse your lips and try to think.

"yeah, but nobody in the reviews ever mentioned anything like this."

"I'm sure he's fine, Y/N."

"yeah, I know..." but you're worried. Klimt is your pal, your cuddle buddy. as he rubs his cheek against the wooden floor, you feel guilt pool in your stomach. if he's hurt because of some dumb online purchase, you're never going to forgive yourself. "I'm gonna call the vet just to be sure."

"oh, okay," she sounds surprised, but doesn't try to stop you. "let me know what they say."

"I will." you hang up the phone and stare at your companion for a few seconds. he leaps into the air and does a somersault before letting out some deeply disturbing whine that reminds you to call the vet. better safe than sorry.

...

when the doorbell rings, you're practically twiddling your thumbs anxiously. Klimt hasn't settled at all, and you haven't even bothered to change out of your lounging ensemble. you're pretty sure you look a mess, but hopefully the person won't care too much.

you don't know who to expect-- your usual vet is an older woman who is friends with your mom, but her receptionist said she was out tonight and would send over another vet to check it out.

when you swing open the door, you immediately regret the decision to stay in sweatpants.

"hi, I'm Wes." the guy gives you a friendly smile and holds up his bag. it's almost comically old-fashioned, something out of an old movie, and you half-expect him to be wearing a stethoscope around his neck.

he's gorgeous, though. definitely a good amount older than you, tall with brown curls and stubble. his features stand out to you even under the porch light, and your mouth guppies idiotically.

"hi," you manage. his eyes flicker to your hand, which is seemingly blocking him from coming inside the house, and you jolt back a little to let him in. you clear your throat. "sorry."

as he steps inside and you close the door behind him, getting one tiny moment to yourself, your eyes widen. way to make yourself look like a bumbling fool.

"I heard that there's a tabby who got into some catnip?" you catch him looking around the front of your house, eyes catching on the framed photos before finding yours again. you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, but nod confidently.

"yeah, Klimt. he should still be in the living room."

"Klimt? like the artist?" he chuckles and follows you into the rest of the home. his voice has a nice timbre to it, something low and gentle that fits well with his occupation.

"yeah, exactly." you turn to smile at him.

you hear the cat before you see him. he's climbed to the top of his cat tree and leaps down onto the ground, paws hitting the surface in a way that can't have been comfortable. he chirps and looks up at Wes, whose lips are turned up with amusement.

"are you the man of the hour?" he asks, approaching the cat. Klimt's pupils get enormous and he prepares to pounce on the newcomer.

"careful--" you start to warn him, but the cat launches himself right into Wes' arms. the vet turns to you, holding him to his chest, and grins. warmth spreads over your skin with embarrassment. "sorry."

"no need to apologize," he starts to pet Klimt, who is only slightly struggling to escape. he wants to go wild again, but Wes isn't going to let go. "they call me the Cat Wrangler at the office."

"really?" you snort. he brings your pet over to the couch and sets him on the cushions, careful to keep him in place.

"no way." he shoots you a dazzling smile. the joke makes you giggle, and you feel yourself become even more self-conscious about the outfit you're wearing. this is just your luck, having hot guys come over when you distinctly look your worst.

Wes scratches between Klimt's ears and glances up at you again. "is there any reason in particular you're worried about the catnip?"

"yeah, actually," you nod, brought back to reality. "I know it's supposed to make them more playful, but he's just been acting weird and I got worried that there was something in it that messed with his head."

"can I see the container for it?" he asks. you go to grab the jar, only to remember that it proudly announces itself as cannabis for cats. profound embarrassment causes you to hesitate with the stuff in your hands.

it's not like he's here for you to flirt with, but you're still thinking about how stupid and young you're going to look with this stuff in front of him, a hot older guy who seems to have his life under control. you peek at him once more from the kitchen, at the way he smiles and starts to talk softly to Klimt as if he were a peer.

he's kinda crazy, and it makes you smile.

"it's cat weed." you hand him the glass container, and Wes breaks into a grin as he looks at the front.

"oh my gosh, I've heard about this!" his eyes move quickly over the label. you're in shock.

"really?"

"yeah, it's hilarious. here, can you make sure our friend here doesn't move while I read the ingredients?" he gestures. the knot of anxiety within you loosens a bit. you nod obediently, going to scoop up your pet and sit him on your lap. he's still squirmy, but he doesn't look ready to attack either of you, thankfully.

"hey, you." you greet your pal affectionately. his tail is wagging impatiently while Wes kneels on the ground beside the couch. there's a silver ring on his finger, but you notice with relief that it's not on his fourth one.

when he sets the jar down on the coffee table with the kind of smile that hints at some secret amusement, you frown. "what?"

"nothing," he shakes his head. "Klimt is gonna be totally fine."

"are you sure?" you pet the feline's smooth coat.

"definitely. you know how drugs affect people differently?" he asks. you want to say no, you don't know that because why would you, but then you remember that there is quite literally a glass-blown bowl sitting on your kitchen table.

"sure." you reply honestly.

"it's the same with cats: some just feel the effects a little more." he shrugs. you think this over for a second.

"that makes sense."

"yeah, I'd estimate about an hour more of this wildcat behavior before he takes a ten-hour nap." he cracks another joke and you find yourself totally charmed by him. something about the way he talks just makes your heart beat like crazy.

"that's a relief."

he chuckles and stands up, grabbing the bag (which he never even had to use) and starting to walk out of the living room. you can smell his delicious cologne as he moves past you.

"sorry for making you come out here so late." you apologize from the couch. Wes turns to look at you with an easygoing expression. his free hand is tucked into his pocket.

"no worries. you have a lovely home." he gestures to the kitchen, and then at the bowl sitting there in the open. you have to fight the smile on your face.

"thanks." you're smirking. right before he's about to head back out, you ask a question that's been wriggling around in your mind since he arrived. "why no title?"

"you mean, like, Doctor or something?" he stops in the threshold. one hand leans against it while he answers your question. you still can't get over how tall he is.

"sure. I mean, you are a doctor, right?" it comes out more dubious than you intended, but he doesn't get offended, only smiles.

"yes, I'm a doctor. I went to Davis." he points like the school is right outside your door. you nod.

"cool."

there's a silence where you just look at each other, and you forget that you look like you just rolled out of bed. he clears his throat.

"to answer your question, I just go by Wes because you're not my patient-- Klimt is." he points to the kitten, who is now chasing his own tail like a dog. you snort at the sight.

"how humble of you."

"I know, right?" he's joking. you find yourself not wanting him to leave, even though you've really just met. he's so sweet and funny and handsome... your stomach is flipping over and over like a schoolgirl.

and it's stupid that you can't think of one plausible reason for him to stay, but every step he takes shortens your time to think. so you just blurt, instead.

"would you want a beer?"

Wes pauses and looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. "a beer?"

"yeah, I mean... you came all the way out here and I just feel bad for causing a fuss over nothing." you scramble slightly to justify your words. you don't ever drink beer-- do you even have any? god, this is embarrassing.

the vet checks the watch on his wrist, then smiles at you with a halting kind of enjoyment, before nodding. "sure."

"okay, great." you turn on your heel to hide the grin on your face. he follows you again to the kitchen area and leans against the counter while you open the fridge. the best form of flirting you can manage right now is bending over shamelessly and taking your time to poke around.

thankfully, there are three cold bottles left towards the back. you take out two and use the tool in one of your drawers to pop the tops off. he watches patiently, takes a sip when you hand the drink to him. your eyes meet.

"so, what prompted the cat weed purchase?" he starts the conversation effortlessly, and you try to keep your eyes from wandering over the shape of him. now that he's just standing in front of you, you're noticing the way his sweater sits against his frame, his long legs and the way his head rests on an elegantly-proportioned neck.

"I just saw it and thought it would be fun." you shrug honestly. he smiles.

"do you think you're gonna let him try it again another time?"

"I don't know," you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm a little nervous, but he also was having a lot of fun until I made him sit still."

"fair enough." you both turn your gazes to the cat. he's nudging a little toy ball with his nose and watching it roll across the floor. there are tiny bells inside that jingle. Wes turns back to you. "what do you do?"

"graphic designer."

"an artist." he raises his brows, impressed.

"not exactly saving animal lives, but I get by." you take another sip of your drink.

"it's not like that, mostly." he rolls his eyes playfully.

"then what's it like?"

"I just see and talk to people's pets all day. it's a pretty great job, even when it's not. you know?" he's optimistic about it. you're drawn to his positive energy, to the way he smiles when he speaks like he's preparing to deliver a witty joke.

you're hopelessly attracted to him, and the space between you is becoming unbearable. even though he's a guy you just met, you can feel in your gut that something about this is just right. you want his body against yours.

"you okay?" he breaks what you only now realize is a silence, and you blink to clear the dirty images from your mind.

"yeah." only thinking about you fucking me against a countertop. it must be the fact that you haven't gotten laid in a while or something, because you usually aren't this attracted to people within the first hour. it takes longer for you to even want to kiss them.

"what kind of stuff do you design?" he seems genuinely interested as he shifts and continues to nurse his drink.

"I work for a tech startup downtown, so it's a lot of website work to make sure it's navigable and pretty." you try to sum up your duties, but it's hard when his hazel eyes are so intent. he listens to every word.

"do you do personal work, too? like, just for you?"

"actually, yeah!" this sparks your excitement.

"can I see?" his smile widens. "only if you're comfortable, of course."

"sure." you're beaming.

he stays put as you start to go out of the kitchen, but then you smile. "you can come with."

"oh." he sets his beer down on the counter and follows you, slightly surprised. but you don't care; you were nervous before, but he's stayed for this long. maybe he wants you, too.

once you get to your bedroom, you're grateful that it's been freshly cleaned. there's even a bouquet from the flower's market sitting on your dresser, and you head over to the desk to sift through the drawers for what you want.

"cool room." he compliments from the threshold. he's careful not to make you uncomfortable, but also can't resist the curiosity that draws his gaze from wall to wall. you find the stack of papers and smile.

"thanks," you place the folder in his hands. "these are some printed versions of stuff I did last year."

Wes immediately begins to flip through the art. him seeing your stuff makes you nervous, so you pretend to focus on straightening up the few items that sit on your desk. you wipe your fingertip over a nonexistent film of dust.

"these are amazing," he says, holding a card stock copy in between his index and middle fingers. "holy shit."

"thank you." you're trying to keep from smiling too hard. you can tell that he's being genuine with his compliments, and it makes your heart swell.

"definitely. are you showing anywhere?"

"at an exhibit downtown a couple months back, but I've been so busy with work that personal stuff hasn't really been on the table, you know?"

he nods in understanding and continues to go through until the end. when he's finished, he looks up and sees you, his eyes concentrated. he doesn't speak at first, and an undercurrent ripples across the room. there are about three feet between you, and you have no excuse to lessen it.

he licks his lips slowly. you purse yours, unsure of what to say.

"I'm glad you called tonight." his voice is lower, slightly uncertain, like he's testing the boundaries. except you don't want boundaries right now. you want to go wild on him.

"me, too." you reply. it's in your eyes, that begging for him to do what you're scared to initiate.

your tongue is pressed to the back of your teeth in anticipation. and when he sets the art back on your desk and comes closer, you feel yourself give in. bubbles of excitement travel up your body as he grabs your face and bends down to kiss you.

it's full, passionate, not the kind of kiss you give someone you've just met. laced with desire and longing, you respond immediately. hands immediately run to his forearms, over his shoulders as he imposes beautifully on your form. it's so hard, you lean back slightly. your torso presses against his until he pushes you against the wall.

the slight gasp that escapes your lips causes him to smile, followed by your moan and clutching fingers. the material of his sweater, the taste of him mingled with that sophisticated, gentle smell of cologne that you want printed all over your skin.

"come here." he murmurs against your mouth and reaches down to the back of your thigh so you can hook your leg around his waist. you whine at the easy access he has to grind against your core, both of you desperate.

"Wes." you pant into his open mouth. he sucks on your bottom lip before finding your cheek and jaw. his fingertips tighten around your flesh.

"this feel good, sweetheart?" he checks in. coincidentally, his jeans grind against your panties at exactly the right spot and your hips jump. you release a pleasured yelp.

"mhmm."

"sounds like it." he latches onto your throat with a possessive excitement. you can feel him sucking and biting at the skin until you're positive there'll be marks tomorrow. you hope there are; purpled evidence of his touch. he digs his nails into your thighs. "you like it when older men touch you, baby?"

he blows over your tender throat before attacking it again. you sigh contentedly at the way he mingles sensations for your pleasure. "yes."

he grunts and nips at your collarbone, sliding the strap of your top down your shoulder so that he can effortlessly flutter his lips over the skin. you grip at him and toss your head back against the wall. his weight on yours is divine. it makes you weak, but that doesn't matter. he's practically holding you up at this point.

when his hand pushes under the hem of your shirt and dances over your stomach, you arch your back for more. he's gentle yet firm, pulling you close like he wants to breathe your oxygen. he's tracing over your ribcage, all the way up to the valley of your breasts, before cupping one and moaning into your shoulder.

he kisses you again with an aching hunger that can't be satiated. your tongues meet and Wes finds your hardened nipples beneath the thin fabric of your bralette. you sigh while he starts to circle one with his thumb.

"you're perfect." he breathes.

you want to bask in this moment, to enjoy the shock across your skin when he reaches his hand back down between your bodies to dip below the waistband of your sweatpants, but you're just so greedy. he could make you cum over and over and it would never be enough.

"what do you want me to do to you?" Wes is hovering over your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you need him most. he's teasing. the warmth of his skin drives you mad. his breath brushes over the shell of your ear.

"fuck me." it's the only response you can fathom. every other instinct in your body flies out the window and is replaced by a craving to sink your proverbial (and literal) teeth into him.

but he loves it, apparently, because he pushes you back against the wall with a nearly bruising force. "I can do that."

with those words, he quickly grabs your other leg and lifts you into his arms, bringing you to the bed and laying you delicately on the mattress while you giggle. you stare up at him with an almost daydreamy lust. his cheeks are flushed.

you only get a second of that heavenly sight, though, before he dips down and pushes your shirt up to see your tits and kiss up the chasm between your ribs. his stubble tickles your skin, which causes you to smile.

by the time he's pulled your sweatpants off and tossed them to the side, you're whining for him to strip down as well.

"what is it, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your tummy. when you try to squeeze your thighs, he pushes them apart.

"I wanna see you." your fingertips touch at his sweater. he chuckles and pulls the garment over his head. it messes up his perfect hair even more and you love it, tangling your fingers in it. he bites his lip.

"do you want me to taste you first?" he keeps stroking the inside of your thighs and staring down at the skimpy lace that you're positive that you've already soaked. you're making him crazy with the way you roll your hips against air, against nothing, seeking any kind of stimulation.

"I can't wait." you shake your head. as nice as it would be, you're going to implode if he doesn't fill you up soon. he drags his fingers down your clothed slit and groans when he feels just how ready you are for him.

"let's take these off then, okay, sweetheart?" he hooks his fingers in the panties and waits for you to nod before tugging them down your legs. you whimper at the cool air that hits your core, soaked and needy. Wes stares at your body on display for him.

as he gets back up from the floor to kiss you again, you both work to remove the rest of his clothes. his skin is perfect under your hands. his chest is warm, solid, and when he climbs on top of you, his arms rest on either side of your head.

one hand comes down to grab his own cock and stroke it a few times before lowering himself to rub it against your throbbing clit. you whimper at the pressure; he's mindless when he feels how easily you cover him in your essence.

"so fucking wet..." he groans while rutting against you.

"Wes, please--" your breath hitches. "put it in."

"begging?" he teases your entrance with the head and smirks. "good girl."

"mhmm." you're smiling, but your mouth drops open when he pushes himself inside.

it's a heavy feeling, him filling you up. he's thick and the stretching of your walls makes him groan and rest his head on your shoulder. he kisses the skin there while diving deeper into your body.

you're shaking slightly from the mixture of pain and pleasure, his size forcing your body to work quickly to accommodate. your eyes are squeezed shut, but you run your hands over his back and shoulders to stay grounded. it feels like a dream.

he starts to pull out, coated in your wetness while you whimper below him, and he grabs your face with one hand in a dominant, soft gesture. "okay?"

"yeah."

he pushes back in. the air in your lungs is practically gone at this point, he's so deep inside. your eyes roll back and push your hips up to take him at a new angle. Wes finds his pace easily, rocking into your body at a manageable pace to let you get used to the sensation.

every time his hips roll down and he buries himself in you, he presses on your clit and sends a new shock through your body. he leans on his elbows to get closer and feel every undulation of your body. you love how his thrusts force your legs apart, how he moans your name and causes the headboard to repeatedly hit the wall while maintaining eye contact. hazel irises that rake over your features with lust.

"you feel so good." he speeds up a little when he hits a certain spot. you can feel him deep and hard, causing a small bump to rise in your stomach with each stroke. his voice is husky and dark. like a man starved.

"fuck..." you drag your nails down his back. he groans at the red marks that you will no doubt leave for him.

"clingy thing, huh?" he sucks at your throat affectionately. "I come over for one thing and you can't help yourself."

hearing Wes speak through his own panting is like listening to a secret, and you never want it to stop. he's reveling in the sordid crush of his own wants, and the way he shoves into you shows you that he has no intention of slowing down for a while.

"I'm impatient." you smirk. he pulls away to admire your expression.

"so am I." he kisses your lips and starts to pound into you. the juxtaposition of his tenderness and the sharp snap of his hips to yours fills you with butterflies. you love how much he wants to ruin you.

"Wes-- oh my god!" you whimper. he grabs your hips and yanks them closer to him so he can go as deep as possible, so he can hit your cervix.

"that's right, sweetheart," he pants. you can tell that he's starting to lose control. "say my name. I want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for me."

the commanding tone makes your body shake. "I- I'm cumming, Wes, please--"

"please what, baby?" he taunts. his index finger is tracing over your jaw.

you don't know what it is that you're wanting, except more. as your form shudders and tightens, walls fluttering around his cock, you lose the capacity to speak. you grind your hips against him and cry out pathetically while he pushes you back down and slams ruthlessly into your pussy.

"cum inside-- please, I need it--" you writhe. he groans at the request.

"fuck, yes..." he sheathes himself. "take it."

you gasp as he repeatedly hits your weakest point and spills hot ropes of his cum inside you, still thrusting in and out and whimpering into your shoulder at the clenching sensation you give his cock. it's warm, strangely delightful, nearly sending you into another orgasm sheerly from the sight.

he mutters unintelligibly as he empties himself in your pussy, but you catch a growled "so needy," between deep moans. you're clinging to him like you'll never have it again. you might not.

he slows down, giving shallower thrusts while riding out his high and shoving his cum deeper inside. it turns lazy and messy, both of you panting, before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you.

you press the back of your hand to your forehead. it's sweaty from all the work he just put you through, but you feel amazing at the same time. your eyes keep flickering from the ceiling above to his rising and falling chest beside you. his nose twitches; he turns his head to look at your face.

although you expect him to say something, he doesn't. instead, you just stare at each other. the air conditioner rattles gently in the background. you're not sure how long this lasts, this soaking in, but he's the first to break it.

"hey."

you find the corners of your lips turning up. "hi."

"do you mind if I go get something to clean you up?" he asks softly, his fingertips finding your forearm with ease and drifting over it.

"sure. bathroom is the first door on the left."

he gets up and you watch him gather his clothes, eyes glued to his perfect form. you can't believe you just had sex with your veterinarian. you don't regret it at all.

he wanders out of the room and your eyes follow, only to see Klimt sitting patiently by the door.

"what are you doing, perv?" you tease as he comes over and leaps up onto the bed. his kitten paws pad over the blankets and settle into the crook of your arm. you smile to yourself, recalling how sweet the vet was with him. "hey, Wes?" you call out.

"yeah?" he comes back into the room with a warm washcloth and a small smile on his face.

"would you wanna get coffee or something sometime?" you bite your lip. maybe he doesn't want to go on a date, but it's worth a shot.

"sure." he breaks into a grin that makes you giddy. thank god, because you really were hoping to see him again.

you can't wait.

taglist (lmk about adding/removal or add yourself to the list here!): @jareids @reidsconverse @xoxomgg @may-b-a-u-shewritestoo @la-vie-en-amour1 @g0lden-cth @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @kisseslikecoffee @spenxerslut @slutforthegubes @spookydrreid @depressedgothgrl @flipper-kisses @multixfandomwriter @willowrose99 @gingeraleluke @chasemoonlight @spencerreid9

#matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #wes x reader #wes dollface #mgg smut #mgg fluff #mgg character smut #mgg characters #dollface

558 notes · View notes

gnocchighoul · 5 years ago

Note

Hmm.. kind of a random thing but that's how my brain works sometimes but hear me out! The Bros (plus undatables and Luke if you want) get turned into cats. What type of cat would they be, how would mc react, and how would they react to being a cat.

I had SO much fun writing this one. Thank you for this excellent prompt 💗

This is just the demon bros getting turned into cats, but I might make a part two with the undateables! :D

Lucifer

Oh he’s going to be so pissed off.

Seriously, even as a cat, his murder-death-murder-death stare is beyond intense. He will sit himself high up on furniture to glare down on everyone like the prettiest gargoyle you’ve ever seen.

Nobody is allowed to come near him. He will swat and hiss at anyone and everyone who approaches, unless they are approaching to turn him back into a demon.

BUT if you had nothing to do with this curse that’s fallen upon him, then he’ll probably let you near, as long as you’re not like, weird about it. Seriously, don’t baby talk at him, he’s not actually a cat.

Cat-Lucifer will probably just want to constantly stand on your shoulders and wrap his tail around your neck, which isn’t super comfortable because he’s not exactly small and dainty.

Also, every time you say something stupid he’s gonna bite your ear lol

Tbh he’s probably going to make you carry him everywhere like that and he’s gonna control where you go -- you know, kinda like ratatouille LMAO

Mammon

You know those cats that climb literally everything and anything?

Yeah.

When he first gets turned into a cat, he freaks the fuck out. But when he finally calms down and isn’t meowing up an angry storm, he’s gonna realize that this is a great opportunity. for evil.

He's gonna book it the second he realizes that he can literally be a cat-thief.

Nothing is safe from his grabby little gremlin paws.

He steals so much shit (wallets, Asmo’s jewelry, Levi’s limited edition collectors items--anything he can carry in his mouth or drag around) and then he stashes it all in your room, because unfortunately, becoming a cat didn’t make him any smarter.

Lucifer tasks you with just sitting in your room and keeping track of everything cat-Mams steals so that you can return everything to their rightful owners.

You quickly become used to cat-Mams sauntering in and out of your room every five minutes with his newfound riches.

So it’s a bit concerning when Mams darts out of your room after stashing a wallet in his hoard, and doesn’t come back after thirty minutes.

Naturally, you go looking for him.

You’ve only been searching for about twenty minutes, when pathetic meowing reaches your ears. You follow the sound, and--

You find him stuck in a cardboard box.

(before fishing him out, you take tons of pictures. He’s very upset.)

Levi

Levi is so distraught. He’s literally going to just wail and roll around on the floor until somebody picks him up.

He’s literally the crying cat meme.

Once he’s in your arms, do not put him down. He’s very sad and his reflexes really aren’t good. You know how you can just kinda toss cats onto the floor and they’ll land on their feet just fine?

He will not.

Is suuuuper jumpy and only trusts you (and maybe Beel, but he’s lowkey afraid that Beel is going to eat him.)

You should probably get him one of those bubble back-packs that cats can sit in and carry him around in that.

He has the worst time as a cat. He just wants to play his video games :(

(But if you give him lots of smooches, it’ll make his suffering a little bit easier to deal with. But like, he’s gonna turn into an overwhelmed ragdoll when u start giving him the smooches)

Satan

Honestly? He isn’t that opposed to being a cat for a little while.

But he’s also like. So hyperactive. Goes from 0-1000 in half a second.

He’s got the zoomies.

He’s gonna parkour his way around the house of lamentation, testing how fast he can zoom, how high and far he can jump (and how far he can fall without hurting himself)

He’s gonna do a backflip off lucifer at the speed of light and then sprint away as fast as he can to go wreck some shit

If you want to hold him, you’re going to have to catch him mid-air. If he doesn’t just squirm out of your arms and actually lets you pet him, he’s gonna stare you dead in the eyes, extend his claws, and then pat your leg with his lil toe beans.

You’re not entirely sure if that means ‘keep petting me’ or ‘stop it right now’ so you just kinda scratch his ears instead

Asmo

Even as a cat he’s beautiful and everybody has to see just how pretty he is.

He’s constantly striking poses.

Looking back over his shoulder. Stretching his leggies out so you can see how long and lean they are. Contorting his body in the WEIRDEST ways because he’s even more flexible now.

He does not run anywhere, he struts very daintily and model-like.

He’s gonna be so affectionate. Constantly rubbing his cheeks all over you, and leaning against you, but be careful while you give him pets because if you mess up his fur he’s gonna swat your hands away.

He’s also definitely going to be really annoying and constantly walk in front of your feet and trip you up. Where are you going, why aren’t you admiring him, dammit

You know how most cats hate water?

Not asmo.

He’s gonna make you fill the bathtub up to his chin so he can float around on his tiptoes with just the upper half of his head out of the water like a crocodile.

Then you have to blow-dry him until he’s all nice and fluffy and give him a good brush.

He will absolutely tolerate you dressing him up and taking pictures as long as you make him look nice. He won’t allow you to put him in stupid costumes (he’s gonna bite you when you bust out a lobster costume) but a pearl necklace? Hell yeah.

Beel

Feed him dammit, he’s starving.

Cat-Beel is going to gnaw on EVERYTHING. Furniture. Books. Clothes. Your hands and ankles.

It’s not anxiety -- honestly he really doesn’t mind being a cat -- he’s just so hungy.

Also he’s MASSIVE.

You don’t actually know that he’s been turned into a cat until you go to the kitchen for a snack and find an orange & white cat the size of a literal child raiding the fridge.

Which brings me to my next point -- he’s gonna be SUCH a snuggle bug. Like those really big dogs that insist on sitting in your lap and crushing you. If he isn’t eating then he just wants to flop on top of you and crush you with his love.

You can baby-talk at him if you want, as long as you give him treats and snuggle him.

He purrs so. Much.

Will also let u just roll him around and do whatever you want to him dkjncdsn he’s honestly the chillest out of them all

Belphie

God he’s so fucking upset at first, like claws out, hissing and spitting at everyone, full on tantruming upset, BUT THEN. but then. You pick him up and press a kiss to his sweet little triangle head and he bleps and it's all over.

Good luck getting anything done. Cat-Belphie is going to demand your full attention for snuggles CONSTANTLY.

No, he doesn’t care that you’re trying to research ways to turn him back, he’s gonna plop his little butt on the tome you’re attempting to read until you give him love, dammit.

Honestly, Belphie being a cat isn’t that much different from normal. The biggest difference is that now he can squeeze into weirder places to nap, which makes it very difficult to keep track of him.

After searching for two fucking hours, you, Satan, Levi, and Beel find him stretched out across the arms of one of the chandeliers in the dining room, like it’s some kind of weird hammock.

He’s fast asleep. Nobody knows how he got up there.

(To get down, he ends up yeeting himself into Beel’s arms.)

If Bells isn’t napping, then he’s hiding under furniture, waiting for his next victim to walk by so he can attack their ankles.

(also the most likely to bite u when he wants your attention)

((part 2 with the undateables))

#obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me #gnocchicanons

3K notes · View notes

deleteddewewted · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! How are you, and I have a request if you wish to do it. So I was thinking of a College AU with Shinsou working there as a part-time employee, then one day fem! reader comes in and at first he is like “Pfft whatever” but then he brings dropping his tsunade behavior and beings growing soft for her while he got to know her and he has seen her rescue a kitten in which he asked to help co-parent their child. He is doing it to get to know her more because he fell for her, but she is a bit oblivious when it comes to ✨feelings✨. I thought this would make a cute HC/ Drabble, however you wish to do it, of how their relationship began to bloom at the local coffee shop.

AAAAHHHH!!!! YES!

Happy Birthday to Shinsou Hitoshi!💜

The most adorable, handsome, and overall best purple headed boy on the show (Fuck off Mineta).

To Take Care of a Stray: Shinsou Headcanons

Barista! Shinsou x F! Reader

FLUFF

As any college student would tell you, cheap caffeinated drinks were a must.

Coffee specifically was a must.

Shinsou was honestly debating if he needed his 3rd cup of coffee that morning or if he could just wing it and go on with an empty tank.

He procrastinated when it came to his assigned project, plus his project partner ditched him, so he was practically all alone figuring his shit out.

And thats how he found himself working at his local coffee shop.

He hated every single customer that would come in at any hour of the day that he work on.

They all demanded his attention and honestly, some days he wished he could just scream in their faces that "No, i don't give a fuck about your pet bird speaking back to you. I'm only here to make you your coffee and take your money."

The cheap coffee was worth it though, so he keeps the complaining to a minimum.

Retail is honestly a "no reward" type of job. The amount of entitlement that some people have baffles him at times.

Around his second year in college he ends up working the late shift to make some extra cash. It also meant less people coming in and demanding an overly complicated drink. Score!

The sound of the rain pouring down helped calm his nerves and allowed him to relax for moment before the door of the shop swung open.

"Oops, sorry. Didn't mean to do that." The first time you walked into the shop you accidentally pulled the door with too much force that it ended up slamming into the wall.

Shinsou immediately didn't like you.

Who the fuck was this woman?

You went up the counter and told him your order taking out your money and handing it to him.

Clean and simple. Nothing special.

Then you came back again a few days later. That really fucked with him.

Most customers came in and never bothered to talk to him. He wanted their money while they wanted the shitty coffee they sold. Easy, right?

Nope, not with you apparently. You came in and asked about his day, how his studies were going, and if anything interesting happened in the shop.

He would respond with brief answers and immediately ignored you afterwards.

You were just so annoying.

..Ok, maybe not.

You were funny, the way you fumbled and played it off as you being intentional.

The way your mouth would widen into a smile anytime he spoke back to you.

You weren't overly energetic, nor overly happy. You were just nice, nice to him.

He wasn't use to that.

You fascinated him just because you existed and he wanted to learn more about you.

He got his chance on the 5th time you came in.

You usually came in at a specific time, always when there was barely any customers, but today you didnt' show up at all.

He wont admit it but he got concerned and would keep looking at the clock on the wall and back to the door of the coffee shop.

When you finally came in, you had scratches on your hand and on your cheek.

"What the fuck happened to you?" He leaned onto his hand that was placed on the counter top. His body relaxed and only showed boredom.

In reality he was terrified, you had scratches on your hands and red streaks too. Why?

"Oh, i was just- i fell into a bush." You gave him a smile that made his heart flutter and legs go weak.

He was so happy he was leaning on the counter because he hadn't he would have fallen onto the floor.

Your smile just had that affect on him.

"How stupid can you be? Look were your going next time."

"Aww, thanks sir!"

Good mood was gone. He told you not to treat him like your friend, thats not what you both are.

...But he really hated that you took that very literally and didn't bother to at least call him by his last name.

"Hmm." He gave you your usual and answered the questions you had for him that day.

You started to come in 4 times a week and every time you did he would notice new scratches on you.

The scratches weren't that bad, he thought maybe you were one those "adventures" types, but the red marks were concerning him.

When he would ask you about them you always had a different excuse for them.

"My backpacks straps are bit rough."

"I placed my arm wrong on the table"

It was this or that but never a concrete answer.

It was happening every time you came in so something had to be wrong.

He gathered up the little cuarage he had and decided to ask you what you were doing.

"Why do have so many scratches on you?" You werent expecting him to be so blunt but you happily told him to meet you after his shift at the nearby alleyway.

He was suspicious of you but he was also curious, he desperately needed answers because the concern for your wellbeing was getting to be too much for him.

He followed your instructions and walked towards the alleyway you directed him to.

When he turned the corner he saw the most beautiful scene in the world.

You were surrounded by cats...and you were giving them food.

He could die happily then and there.

"W- this is why you show us with scratches all over you!?" You nodded but got up and walked over to a cardboard box that was tucked under a bigger box.

You told him to follow and when he crouched down to see what was in it he saw two huge eyes staring back at him.

"You've been- this little thing is the reason for your scratches?"

"Yep!"

He laughed at you and helped you feed all of the cats.

When the two of you finished up, you picked up the box that the small kitten was tucked in and gave it a pat on the head.

"What are you going to do with the kitten?" Shinsou asked you.

"Well, i wish i could take it with me but i don't think i'd be able to take care of it since i work early in the morning and have classes late at night."

Shinsou's mind started planning.

He really liked you and wanted to be around you more often.

Shit, if he was brutally honest he had a crush on you.

"Well, i have classes early morning while i work at night. So...why don't we co-pa-... i mean co-care for the little guy?" He knows his ears were red, he knows his face was starting to turn red as well.

But he wasn't about to admit that he really wanted you to say "yes".

"Uh, ok. Sure!"

Shinsou was over the moon with this and it was all going so perfectly as well.

The kitten would spend the mornings with you and in the afternoons the two of you would meet up to take care of it together.

You both decided to name the kitten Mieko.

""Beautiful blessing child", thats a cute name! Why do you want to call him that?"

"Because...i want to- y-you idiot. Stop asking so many questions!" You just laughed at him and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

Shinsou melts.

Shinsou would bring the kitten with him to work since his boss had a soft spot for animals.

Imagine how exited he was when you first invited him into your own apartment.

"You have your own place? Color me impressed."

"Thanks Shin." Shinsou blushed a little at the nickname. It had been over a month that you both agreed to take care of the kitten together.

The more time he spent with you the more he fell.

"I hope you like the umm...book." This was another thing that started after the two of you began to co-parent the kitten. He would bring you gifts and act like it meant nothing.

Reality is that he was courting you.

He expected you to make a comment on his gifts but you glossed over them like nothing.

It was getting on his nerves.

"Aah, hey. Do you want to take Mieko out for a walk...again."

"Was that a question or a demand?" You laughed at him

You made it look easy with how much you make him blush.

The more time you both spent with each other, the more Shinsou realized he was truly in love with you and wanted you to be by his side.

But he was facing a problem. You.

You wouldn't pick up on the hints he was dropping on you. His interest on you.

So one day he decides to just tell up upfront if you would like to go on a date with him.

"Hey Shin, do you want to go on a date with me?"

Shinsou. exe has stopped operations

"W-wha-"

"I'm joking buddy! But seriously do you want to go out to eat? I think Mieko would-"

"W-WHaT!? F-fuck no!" That upset you because you thought he might like free lunch.

"You could've just said no." He was losing you, again.

Fuuuuuuuck!!!!!

"N-no wait! What i wanted to say was umm, would you like to go out with me? Like a date! N-not like friends."

You both just stared at each other for a moment, the silence only making the situation worse.

"...Sure."

Mieko, your child, just blinked at the two of you.

"These two ridiculous humans are my parents, great." At least this lead to Shinsou moving in with you and Mieko having a permanent home now.

Double the pats for the two new people in your home, double the purring sounds, double the angry and grouchy cats begging for your attention.

Who wold trade this? You got to cuddle with the two most adorable people in this world.

"I'm not fucking adorable Y/n!"

"Shush Toshi or you're not getting cuddles and kisses."

"....fine."

#shinsou x y/n #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou x female reader #bnha shinso x reader #mha shinso x reader #shinso x you #shinsou hcs #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #mha #bnha #mha headcanons #asks

169 notes · View notes

codenamed-queenie · 5 years ago

Text

#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched.

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire.

So. Quarantine it is.

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick -

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days.

Then he started to get twitchy.

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.”

“Dick, no.”

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t.

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass.

Desperate for news of the outside.

He thrives off of it like a starving man.

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after.

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason -

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist.

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking.

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results.

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it.

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up.

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done.

Barbara -

Self-quarantined with her dad.

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive.

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs.

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together.

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles.

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony.

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window.

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background.

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute.

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen.

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe.

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned.

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim.

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being.

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out.

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it.

Cass -

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate.

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed.

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far.

But no one knows for sure.

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel.

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later.

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic.

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day.

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’ mostly.

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost.

Steph -

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first.

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down.

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable.

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving.

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks.

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s.

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic.

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian -

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house.

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine.

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds.

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion.

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time.

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are.

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time.

Only that he is Out There.

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had.

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies.

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat.

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts.

Duke -

Did not leave the attic for two weeks.

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement.

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement.

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement.

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa.

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally.

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others.

Duke has seen these people under pressure.

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

4K notes · View notes

ironmandeficiency · 4 years ago

Text

that’s not a shirt

pairing: marcus pike / reader

word count: 1584

summary: marcus comes home from work & finds the strangest thing in the laundry.

a/n: for @autumnleaves1991-blog and her wednesday writing challenge! writing domestic marcus pike is my therapy. unbeta’d and posted from mobile (honestly my laptop is becoming less convenient to post from even tho posting fic on tumblr is literally the reason i bought it last year)

three long, miserable weeks. that’s how long marcus has been out of town for a case that had him jetting all across the country, far away from you and your comfortable bed. he’s almost never at the apartment he pays rent for every month. most of his clothes and his favorite pillow are at your place, and the small quilt his grandmother sewed decades ago is draped over the back of your couch. in everything but name, he lived with you.

when he entered your apartment with his key, he took note of the fact you weren’t there and got set to cleaning up a bit. work leaves you exhausted more often than not and he doesn’t want to leave everything undone for you to worry about when you get home.

upon first glance, he could see the laundry was half done. a heaping load of clean clothes was in the hamper in front of the dryer and there were wet clothes in the open washer. when he looked further, there was also a load in the dryer, which told him that you stayed up late to get things done then fell asleep on the couch waiting for the dryer to finish. with a fond smile, he started the dryer for a few minutes to get wrinkles out of what’s in there. when those are done, he can get what’s in the hamper unwrinkled and hung and folded.

dinner was next on the to-do list. something nourishing to welcome you home after a long day but simple enough to do while catching up the clothes: spaghetti. there’s something about his mom’s recipe for the sauce that makes his spaghetti absolutely heavenly — your words, not his — and he can’t wait to see your reaction to having marcus home two days earlier than planned along with his best dish.

in the time it takes him to get the sauce cooking and the water boiling on the stove, the dryer announces that it’s finished with the first load. he hums as he folds the bath towels and dish rags without a care in the world, making the trip to stow them in the bathroom cabinet with a spring to his step.

checks the sauce for flavor and consistency before putting the second load of wrinkled clothes in the dryer, finding it needs just a smidge more rosemary before it can be left to simmer. picks another sprig from the plant you keep on the windowsill and cuts the leaves very fine before sprinkling them in with a flick of his wrist.

satisfied with his efforts, he turns back to the laundry. he dutifully empties the lint filter (you’re adamant on emptying it after every load and the trait passed onto him) before he begins to grab things to toss into the dryer. about a third of the way through the basket, his hand grabbed onto something weirdly solid and plump.

“mroww!”

last marcus checked, shirts don’t make noises like that. he tore his gaze from the inside of the dryer to the hamper to find a grey and white kitten lounging in the hamper. the little thing was nudging his hand with their head, clearly wanting the attention of the man slowly depleting its bed. he was perplexed. you didn’t have a cat when he was last here, but there was one seeming to be perfectly content in making itself at home in your apartment.

“where did you come from?” he knew the cat wasn’t going to give him a coherent answer but he felt the need to voice his confusion anyway. the first thing to do now: check to see if it’s male or female. it’s a female, looks to be about three months old and is perfectly content with being handled by marcus.

marcus can’t recall the last time he had a pet. with him being too busy with work, he never thought it would be fair to a pet to have an owner constantly gone. he didn’t have enough stability in the past with where he lived and didn’t want to only be a half ass pet parent. the past several months, however, have been nothing but stable. not counting the seldom out of town cases, he goes to work in the morning and comes home to you in the evening, and he rinses and repeats as needed. maybe this kitten is the perfect prelude to taking the next big step in his relationship with you.

for now though, marcus doesn’t let himself get carried away with his daydreams about living with you full time. he’s got laundry to finish and dinner to cook, and now he has a sous chef to accompany him. he holds the kitten to his chest, scratching her chin with a hooked finger and melting at the way she looks up as if telling him to keep going. “alright sweet girl, let’s finish up dinner.” a soft “mrrow!” is her reply and it makes marcus huff a quiet laugh.

dinner is completed with marcus using one less hand than normal, his sous chef being fabulous company. the few times he had to use both hands, his feline friend perched on his shoulder (which he thought was the best thing ever) and waited to be held again. however this cat got here, marcus didn’t know; the one thing he did know is that it wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

the front door was unlocked when you came home and you knew with absolute certainty that you locked it before you left. your walmart bags filled with cat supplies were immediately dropped to the hallway floor as you began to inspect your front door and the area around it. marcus taught you how to spot the basic signs of forced entry (like the protective sweetheart he is) and when none of them were there, you cautiously entered your apartment, mace in hand.

the adrenaline washed away when you spotted your loving boyfriend in the kitchen, gently bobbing his head along to whatever music he had playing. one hand was stirring a pot on the stove while the other was plenty preoccupied with the kitten. shit, you forgot to warn him about the kitten before he got home!

this was the last thing you thought would be here to greet you, but it was a very welcome sight; the feline was finicky and marcus wasn’t due home for another few days, a double whammy. “i see you’ve met the kitten.” you’re honestly just thankful he didn’t get upset about the little thing. neither of you have talked about pets or whatever your living situation is becoming, so the way he seems so taken with the kitten is a sign pointing in a great direction.

when he hears your voice, marcus visibly lights up. “hi honey!” the hand with the spoon immediately drops the wooden utensil into the pot and waves at you happily. “this is my sous chef, say hello, pasta!” he grabs one of her little paws and waves it at you before resuming his stirring, a beaming smile on his face.

did he really just name the cat pasta? and how in the world is she so calm with him right now?

you found the kitten, now known as pasta, huddled in a cardboard box beside a gas station dumpster headed home from work. she was mewling her little head off back there and you were lucky enough to hear her. taking her and her box, your list of things to do was thrown out the window as you rushed her to the vet. they cleaned her up real good and schedule her vaccinations, and sent you home with a list of supplies to buy and advice on how to take care of the little thing.

she was pissed at you after the vet trip. didn’t let you pet or hold her unless she was in the mood for it and if you tried to pick her up otherwise, she would scatter and give you a glare from a safe distance away. but here was marcus holding her like a baby, and the little brat was eating it up! to be fair, you were the same way with marcus when he was being affectionate so you didn’t completely blame her.

“why pasta?” you knew that cats were more likely than dogs to have strange names. you just didn’t think your boyfriend would be the type to give a cat a name like pasta. at that rate, you might as well name a dog goose and call it a day.

he smiles at the furball, giving her a few affectionate pets while he talks. “i was cooking spaghetti when i found her in the laundry hamper, and then i noticed a little spot right on her hip that looks like penne. i couldn’t choose between the two so i went for the middle ground. is that okay with you? or did she have another-”

“marcus, i love it.” and you really do; that sentimental dork just made you love the name pasta with nothing but two sentences. “and honestly, i’ve just been rotating between baby girl, squeak toy, and dumbass since i found her the day before yesterday.”

he scratches pasta under her chin as he laughs at the thought of you calling his sous chef a dumbass. “pasta is not a dumbass! you tell ‘em sweetheart, tell them how smart you are!”

“mroww!”

“see? she’ll be the next einstein.”

marcus pike taglist: @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @obirain @themarcusmoreno @catsnkooks @torradoza @stardustsunrisekisses @darthadeline @max--phillips @jedi-mando @darklingveracruz @andysficrecs @pedropasscals @qhbr2013 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @greeneyedblondie44 @princess76179 @kaermorons @lv7867 @whovianwar @purelypascal

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike #the mentalist #writer wednesday #autumnleaves1991 blog #i love this so much #i’m proud of this one #marcus pike is therapeutic #my government assigned soft fbi agent

124 notes · View notes

suna-reversed · 4 years ago

Text

4 seats away

College!AU Iwaizumi x gn reader (part1/?)

Iwaizumi Hajime was an absolute mystery to you when you first met him. Despite being just 4 seats away, the distance between you seemed like oceans apart. Little did you know of just how the tides would turn to bring the two of you a little closer.

slowburn-friends to lovers-flufff

(warnings- cuss words, mentions of harassment)

a/n; this is my first ever fic so feedback would be appreciated!

Stepping onto your college campus for the first time, you felt both exhilarated and scared, but nonetheless, you were ready to take on your new life and all the adventures that it had in store for you.

On the other hand, Iwaizumi Hajime was absolutely baffled by just how much california was different from the place that he had called his home. He had expected some adjustment difficulties but still, he wouldn't have guessed the cultural shock that hit him harder than that one ball he spiked at shittykawa’s head when they were second years. His lips twitched upwards at the thought of his best friend who he was miles away from. But then his eyes moved to the mess of cardboard boxes he still had to unpack, and just like that his face was set back into it’s usual stoic expression as his shoulders slumped and he got to work.

--------

2 months into college life and it had surpassed all your expectations of the freedom you had deemed to gain as a high school student. No, you weren't going to parties every single night, spending your day away drinking booze or getting high at 2 am while listening to arctic monkeys. But you could get waffles at 2:30 am if you wished to, eat nutella straight out the jar AND play the yarichin bitch club’s theme song on the living room television and dance around with your roommates with no judgment whatsoever.

Who was there to judge you after all anyways?

Unfortunately, that carefree attitude crumbled to dust as you walked out your class, absentmindedly texting your friend, and immediately slammed into what seemed like a walking brick wall. It took you 3.5 seconds to hear the clutter of the books and stationery the stranger was carrying to fall onto the floor, and another second to snap back to reality. You hurriedly bent down and hastily gathered the mess while a string of almost incoherent apologies left your mouth. Realising the lack of response from the mystery person, you snapped your head up wondering if you may have given them a concussion with just how hard you knocked into each other. Instead, you were met with honey brown orbs peering down at you from a face as cold as ice. You didn't even realise how hard you were staring until the unknown boy bent down, taking the items from your hands gently and gathering the rest from the floor. His husky but tender voice snapped you of your trance. He seemed to murmur an apology before slightly bowing and then stopping halfway as if he caught himself doing something wrong. Another “sorry” and a slight nod was all you got before he walked away.

That was your first encounter with what seemed to be an ever perplexing and mysterious boy. Fortunately, it wasn't the last.

---------

The next time you saw him was on the bus on your way to the cafe where you worked part-time. You didn’t realise his presence until you felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head with an intensity hard enough to cut through stone. As you turned your head around, your eyes locked onto each other. He was standing around 4 seats away from you, partially blocked by a middle aged man talking loudly on his phone. Instinctively, you waved at him with an awkward smile. To your surprise, he raised his hand back in greeting while giving you a slight nod. Just then, your pressed smile turned into a genuine one as the distance of those 4 seats seemed to lessen just a bit.

-------

Since then, you had learned a little bit more about him. He had a class right next to yours. He didn't seem to interact much with too many people, but was always polite to everyone and had one constant friend who he was most often seen with. He was somehow also extremely oblivious to his popularity amongst the girls he had classes with (they had given him the title of the “mysterious hot foreign boy”). You truly questioned that when you once saw him try to baby talk to a cat while waiting for the bus, only for the cat to poke him right in the eye with its paw, leading to a very awkward 5 minutes of you asking him if he was okay and him reassuring you he was even though his eye twitched every two seconds.

------

It was just another regular day for you travelling back from work. You had gotten onto the bus, followed your daily routine of acknowledgement given and received with “that one guy from college”, and went along your business bobbing your head along to the song you were listening to on your earphones. The bus was oddly crowded that day for a late afternoon in the middle of the week. Your senses seemed to heighten a little as you felt a tall figure enter your personal bubble. You tried to move around, but the task proved to be a little too difficult with the crowd and a seat right next to you blocking your way. A single road bump was all that was needed for the stranger to further invade your space as they pressed up against you, a hand slowly inching up your hip. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked around with a panic filled expression, your eyes locking onto a pair of almond orbs you had grown too familiar with.

It didn't even take Hajime a second to read your terror filled eyes and look down to realise the situation. And before he knew it, he was pushing through the crowd and physically placing himself right between you and the man.

“Is there a problem?” he asked in an ever threatening tone to the man who was currently chuckling nervously as he cowarded away from Hajime's terrifying build. The man stuttered out an incoherent string of words that you were too shaken up to register before Hajime took one frightening step towards him, sending him scrambling away as far as possible in the stuffed bus.

Hajime turned towards you, intending to move a step away from you to give you the much needed space. But before he could do that, he felt something tug onto the fabric of his jacket. Looking down, he saw your fist bundling up the corner of his jacket and he could have sworn he felt the sound of his heart break a little as he looked up to see a tear fall from your eyes as you sniffed slightly.

“Hey, it's alright. Your name’s y/n right? You’re safe now y/n.”

You were still too shaken up to wonder how he came to know your name or to even answer when he asked you if he should walk you back to your college dorm building. He took your fragile state as a yes as he simply signalled you to walk before him with a light tap to your arm when your stop came. You both walked in silence with you leading the way. When you reached right outside your dorm buidling, you finally looked up at him to thank him, only to see the smallest of smiles grace his lips as his eyes slightly darted down in between you two to where you still held onto his jacket. Your eyes widened as you realised you had never let go of it. That caused a small chuckle out of the usually stoic faced brunette. You found yourself letting out a nervous laugh as you pulled your hand away.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realise it. And also sorry for the extra journey you had to make. I honestly don't know how to thank you for what you just di-”

“It’s really not a problem. Besides, anyone would have done that. I just hope you are okay?”

---------

The ice between you and Hajime hadn't been a slow process of thawing and melting. Instead, it had come crashing down and swept away as if in a thunderstorm. From that day onwards, Hajime himself had taken the initiative to cross the everlasting distance of those 4 seats between you. Small talks while standing next to each other soon enough turned into dying of laughter as Hajime made stupid faces at the baby in the arms of the woman in front, or the time you sneaked in a wholeass tub of ben and jerry’s and shared it with him right in front of the “no-food” sign on the bus.

You learned something new about him almost everyday. He was majoring in sports science. He used to play volleyball in high school. He has a best friend who currently plays volleyball in a professional team in argentina. The said best friend also blames himself for why they did not go to nationals as third years even though that is absolutely not the case. Not that Hajime would ever tell him that. Hajime sometimes has extremely soft moments when you’re texting late at night, thus leading to appreciative conversations about his best friend. Not that he would ever address him as that on a regular day, instead opting for shittykawa or trashykawa and many other terms, that, as pointed by you, seemed to be getting lazier by the day on a creative level. At this point, you’re sure you know his best friend more than he knows himself.

Anyways, back to Hajime; he’s weirdly good at carnival games (much proven by his 5 time winning streak over you in the bucket toss). He always ends up choosing the dinosaur plushie as his prize (you now have an ever increasing collection of dinosaur plushies by your bed).

He loves staying healthy and learned how to make all his favourite foods from back home in the first two months of coming to Cali. His favourite being agedashi tofu, which he now has to make for you at least once a week since you have been obsessed with it ever since you first tried it from his plate (he acts like he’s pissed about it but low key loves seeing how your face lights up whenever you see him with a lunchbox in front your class). He’s very attentive to whatever you say or do and will happily watch your favourite anime/movie/show as long as you're willing to watch all the godzilla movies with him.

There is still so much to learn for you to learn about Hajime, and you are more than willing and ready to do so. However, there are a few things that you don’t know of and Hajime would like to keep it that way. Like how he looks over at you with such tenderness in his eyes while you’re laughing at a video of puppies falling over, or how his heart swells with joy whenever you get on your tiptoes to fix his hair, or how sometimes he’ll catch your face just right in the sunlight and suddenly he’ll feel like everything would fall apart if he so much as breathes too loud. But you’d always snap him out of it by poking your tongue out at him while making the silliest of faces and he’d flick your nose in response, and once again he’d ground himself into the moment, simply enjoying the fact that you exist, you’re here, and you’re with him. He mentally thanks himself for crossing those 4 seats that led him to being this close to you almost every other day. But he wonders if he’ll ever be able to get past his cowardice and admit that maybe he wants you to be just a little bit more closer.

116 notes · View notes