#because it just started out as a doodle and then suddenly i was in too deep to NOT finish

[a-hundred-thousand-stars]

Here's a chimera sif! inspired by @startagainaprologue's au.

[arokalypse]

i always thought romantic love was the plague and i was a plague doctor.

so here's an aro-colored plague doctor

me oversharing beneath the cut about how amatonormativity has screwed me up in ways I have never been screwed up before.

(rant beneath the cut is full of negativity, triggering, but perhaps relatable. idk. read at your own risk)

okay so let's have a mini story telling time about how romance plagued every aspect of my life until now.

My bestfriend in high school treated me of less value after she gets her boyfriend. This experience was what drove me into drawing plague doctors during valentines. These doodles were captioned with "Plague is in the air", because my friends in my circle told me to not hang out with her on that day because it's valentines day. So cool, I thought I should avoid them like they were the plague.

For the first half of college, I've been a wingman for way too many of my friends for my only female and best friend.

It has gotten to a point where the meaning of my companionship with my male friends had become solely for providing a connection to a girl they want to date.

In the long run, my bestfriend, who my 'friends' were pining for, actually has been pining for me. She asked if we could be a thing, I said yes because I thought that, romance isn't probably as disgusting as I think of it.

To protect tradition and to protect the feelings of the men she rejected (who I also wingmanned), we kept it hidden.

For the entire time, she emphasized how I was dense and oblivious about romance. For the entire time I was confused, disoriented, and even repulsed. I didn't know how to reciprocate and I certainly did not have THOSE feelings either at all.

Of course it didn't end well.

After that failed attempt at romance, I have been involved in three more encounters after that. Men suddenly started talking to me out of nowhere. Initially, I thought that they were just trying to make new friends. I didn't realize they were hitting on me but when I did, I cold-shouldered them out of my life.

The last one was the most traumatic. I have explicitly stated that he shouldn't attempt to romance me because I've admitted that I'm way too tired of dealing with it, but he was stubborn. He has also gone as far as sexualizing me against my will.

So yeah.

Amatonormativity made me lose faith in the meaning of my friendships.

It made me realize how friendship is easily overshadowed by romantic relationships.

It made me worry that my kindness is misread as a romantic gesture.

It made me constantly hate how friendship is only seen as a stepping stone for a romantic relationship.

And because amatonormativity has rendered all my significant connections meaningless, I'll spend every second of my life hating amatonormativity. I will always be repulsed at the concept that destroyed every goddamned friendship that I had. Nothing has ever made me feel THS sick. I will always think of it as the plague.

[tinyproprodigy]

𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 🧷

"C r u s h , c r u s h , c r u s h ."

Bakugou Katsuki x reader - (NB)

• Bakugo's crush on you started innocently enough - he begrudgingly admired your work ethic and quirk control during training sessions. But then he noticed the way your (e/c) eyes squinted slightly when you concentrated, and the adorable crinkle of your nose when you were deep in thought, and suddenly his heart was exploding like one of his nicely aimed AP shots.

• Whenever you're in the vicinity, Bakugo can't help but sneak glances your way, only to whip his head around with a fierce scowl when someone (usually Kaminari) catches him staring. "I wasn't looking at that loser, you idiot!" he'll growl, tiny explosions sparking at his fingertips.

• Mina and Sero live for teasing Bakugo about his crush, much to his chagrin. They'll make over-exaggerated googly eyes at him whenever you walk by, or loudly proclaim things like, "There goes the love of Bakugo's life!" This inevitably results in Bakugo chasing them around, threatening bodily harm if they don't shut their "damn traps."

• There's a running bet among the class on when (or if) Bakugo will finally admit his feelings. Kaminari has money on "Never, he's too proud." Mina is convinced he'll blurt it out in a fit of rage someday. Kirishima just wants his bro to be happy.

• In the rare moments when Bakugo musters the courage to talk to you, he instantly reverts to a flustered, stuttering mess. His ears burn bright red as he tries (and fails) to act casual, inevitably resorting to angry yelling to cover up his embarrassment. "Quit staring at me like that, (L/N)! Don't you have better things to do than bother me?"

• Despite his gruff exterior, Bakugo is incredibly protective of you. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, they'll find themselves on the receiving end of his explosive fury. He insists it's just because you're a fellow hero-in-training and he refuses to let his talents be outshone, but the class knows the truth.

• There's a notebook buried deep in Bakugo's room where he's meticulously analyzed all your quirk's capabilities, strong points, and areas for improvement. In the margins, doodles of your face and little explosions shaped like hearts decorate the pages. If anyone ever found it, he'd simply combust from mortification.

• During particularly intense battles or training exercises, Bakugo finds himself pushing harder than ever before, determined to impress you with his skills. Afterwards, he'll try to play it cool, like your presence had no effect on him whatsoever. But the glow of pride on his face when you compliment his power is unmistakable.

• You, precious reader, remain delightfully oblivious to Bakugo's inner turmoil. You see him as a passionate classmate and respected rival, making his crush on you all the more endearing (and frustrating) for the explosive boy. The rest of Class 1-A watches on in amusement, waiting for the inevitable explosion when Bakugo's feelings finally reach critical mass.

• No matter how much he growls and glares, at the end of the day Bakugo is an awkward teenage boy stumbling through his first real crush. And while his methods are unorthodox (and often involve yelling), his feelings for you are as bright and dazzling as one of his explosive blasts, lighting up the sky for all to see.

[fastandcarlos]

Accept My Help, Love : ̗̀➛ Ollie Bearman

summary: the last thing your stubborn self needed was an injury, particularly when letting people in to help is a trickier job then it should've been

Your soft eyes looked at Ollie, with your arm wrapped in cast the most mundane jobs were suddenly your biggest challenges. In the Haas hospitality you stood, your plate of food ready to be eaten, but your hands unable to carry. 

With Ollie talking to many of his future team members around him, you found yourself at a crossroads. The table you had wasn’t too far away, and with the strength in your arm getting better day after day, you were sure it was about time to challenge yourself a little more, placing your hands on the hot plate, making sure that your grip was nice and tight on it. 

Usually Ollie was there to help you with most things, but with his career skyrocketing you didn’t have the heart to disturb. As you lifted the plate up, you were feeling pretty confident, surprised by how easy the weight was to carry. However, as you took your first step, your confidence quickly plummeted. 

Before you knew it the plate slipped out of your hands and banged against the counter. The vibrations were loud across the hospitality lounge with several pairs of eyes darting in your direction. 

“Babe?” Ollie questioned, one of those to quickly spin around and see what was going on. 

You weakly smiled across at Ollie as his eyes looked around, piecing together what was going on. “Don’t say it,” you sighed, your shoulders dropping. 

Ollie was used to you pushing yourself, asking for help was a job that you found particularly difficult, especially now that you had your injury too. All Ollie wanted to do was help you with your recovery, and remind you of just how capable your body currently was. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to get it for you?” He asked, picking the plate up, leading you over to your table. 

You hung back behind him, your steps slow and lazy as people slowly started to look away from you too. With a huff you dropped down into your seat, allowing Ollie to place the food in front of you before sitting opposite you. 

“What were you thinking?” He questioned, keeping his eyes firmly on you. 

Your expression was blank, the frustration was clear. By now you had hoped that you would be back to your usual self, hating the fact that you had to constantly rely on other people to get you through day to day. 

“I just wanted to try,” you defended, “I should be able to carry my own plate by now, shouldn’t I? This is where you work, you shouldn’t be spending your day running around after me.” 

Ollie’s hand reached across the table, taking a hold of your own and squeezing it gently. If anyone knew how hard this was for you, it was him. Accepting help wasn’t easy at the best of times, but now it felt as if everyone offered their help out of pity rather than concern. 

“I’m fed-up Ollie, this is ridiculous.” 

Your eyes stared down at the cast around your left forearm, doodles up and down the plaster that some of your closest friends had added to it as reminders to cheer you up whenever you were feeling down. As always, they were particularly drawn to what Ollie had doodled, the biggest heart he could fit on it that he knew you’d adore. 

Your other hand brushed through your hair as you let go of a sigh, “I just want to be me again Ollie, I don’t recognise who I am right now.” 

Ollie nodded understandingly, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “I get it, I’ve had injuries too when I’ve had to count on other people to get me by. But people do genuinely want to help you love.” 

You slowly turned your head up, allowing yourself to see the concern in Ollie’s eyes. “I don’t like the fact that you’re constantly having to put yourself out for me, you can barely sit still because you’re looking around and worrying about me.” 

Ollie continued to hold tightly onto your hand reassuringly, “that’s because I choose to do that, because I care and want to be there for you, whether you’re injured or not.” 

You smiled weakly, feeling tears threaten to spill as a wave of emotion washed over you. “I just want this to end, to rip this stupid cast off now.” 

A faint chuckle came from Ollie, since the day of your incident he had seen firsthand how frustrated you were, particularly as your injury wasn’t your fault to begin with. His heart broke when the doctor told you how serious the fracture was, the recovery period longer than you could’ve ever imagined. 

It was never going to be easy but at the start, you were positive. However, the longer your arm took to fix, the less positive you were. Your negativity had taken Ollie by surprise, he’d never seen you so low, at times wondering if he was the right person to be able to pick you back up. 

He too wanted to rip your cast off, but only when your body was ready for it to be done. “You know, I’m worried about what you’re going to be like when your cast comes off, because you’re going to be so much stronger, and tougher, if people are scared of you now, they should see you with a freshly healed arm.” 

“Do you really not mind helping me out?” You asked Ollie. 

His head shook straight away, without even having to think. “I’m always going to be there for you, injured or not. There are people around you who really do care sweetheart, it’s not embarrassing to ask them for help.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled, watching as Ollie lifted your hand and pressed a kiss against the back of it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.” 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Ollie smiled, “you forget how amazing you are sometimes.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[eddie4bat-president]

Saw a drawing of Steve and now I'm suddenly thinking about artist Eddie who designed the Hellfire shirts and Corroded Coffin fliers and who draws the villains of his D&D campaigns to slap onto his DM screen for visual aid and doodles in class and-

And i'm thinking about Steve, in a relationship with Nancy, trying to ignore that things are rocky but knowing it all the same. He finds a notebook left behind in school and he only takes it because he forgot his own. He plans to use it for the day and then figure out whose it is and get it back to them in exchange, that's probably more than fair, right? And the person is really gonna want this back - it looks like half their life is contained in this thing; there is... a shit ton of loose paper stuffed between the pages and notes on all kinds of subjects and drawings and.... he doesn't even know what that is. Who is Vecna and what the hell is a... lich?

Anyway as he leafs through it he finds that some of the drawings are... actually really good. Like, absurdly good for being in a lined notebook that looks like it has taken a trip into a dumpster and picked up some debris on the way out.

Like! Those hands! Steve has no artistic bone in his body but he's heard people whine about drawing hands and - he looks at the hand not holding the book and back again - yeah, that's exactly what hands look like! And here - a few pages further (it's one of the most empty pages of the whole thing, mostly because this one seems to have started as a drawing and not as a page of notes that turned into a drawing) there are only a few lines on the page but it's still very clearly the back of someone's neck, the collar, one shoulder.... Then there's another one that is almost all lines, but they were all carefully placed to give the effect of perfectly windswept hair. Then there's one that he actually can't make sense of at first (he almost pages past it because it is just a few lines and dots taking up a quarter of a page of very annoyed... history notes? Maybe English.) It's just a jawline with some moles but... only the day before he had cut himself shaving a finger's width underneath those exact moles. And that's when it clicks. He goes back to the hair... yeah that- that could be him too. Maybe. He flips back to that one very detailed drawing of hands and... putting down the book he tries to get his hands into the same position - the angle is off but. Yeah. That's why they looked so perfectly...! Uhhhh... Handsy! Because they're his fucking hands!

Anyway Steve realizes that about a third of the drawings are or could be him. He realizes that he actually can't go through with giving it back because - what would he even say? "Hey found your notebook, nice shrine to me?" Yeah no. But he's... also reluctant to take it to the Lost and Found. There's something in the handwriting.... He has a feeling that it might not be a girl secretly drawing him. What if someone else connects the dots? What if they confront the mystery artist about it? Flashbacks to his fight with Jonathan, the line he crossed and immediately regretted. He doesn't want to be the cause for someone else getting called that. And unrelated to that, things with Nancy aren't great right now and it's... it's just nice to think someone is paying attention, alright?

Then Halloween happens a few days after. The Break-up(?), the demodogs, Billy and the tunnels- and afterwards it's nice to have the notebook to distract him from the pain. The mundane mystery of a schoolmate maybe having a crush on him. He might not even have to confront them - he can just figure out a way to slip it into their locker; it looks like at least half their schoolwork is crammed into this thing, no matter how half-heartedly done. They definitely want this back.

Man, I wish I could actually write this thing. Damn. Maybe I could even do a scene where Steve tries to Sherlock Holmes his way to Mystery Artist and confronts a (hatefully seething) Robin, because she sits behind him in that one class, only to find his own Watson in her instead. But alas. It cannot be.

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

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

➻ word count: 4346

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

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

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

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

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

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

“Wait, really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not what you think—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[suiana]

✎ yandere! artist headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― obsessiveness, slight nsfw, etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

‎

✎ yandere! artist who is the school's best artist, winning art competitions left and right as if they were nothing to him.

✎ yandere! artist who at first ignores you because you didn't stand out to him.

✎ yandere! artist who suddenly faces a massive art block and cannot find it in himself to draw anything until you carelessly intrude into the art room that the school gifted to him and asked him whether the drawings in the room all belonged to him. he was so shocked that all he could muster was a tiny yes.

✎ yandere! artist who becomes so inspired by you that his art block is no more and he comes up with yet another masterpiece.

✎ yandere! artist who thanks you unwillingly for motivating him while you just laugh and ask him what you even did.

✎ yandere! artist who is offended that you forgot you intruded into his personal art space and starts insulting you with the tiniest hint of a blush on his cheeks. he's just a lil bit of a tsundere, just a lil.

✎ yandere! artist who becomes infatuated with you after you stand up to him and insult him back. he can't believe that there was such a person that would dare to talk back to the school's pride and joy!

✎ yandere! artist who starts to unconsciously draw you every time he picks up his pencil, decorating his notes and homework with beautifully sketched doodles of you and only you, becoming flustered as he realises what he did.

✎ yandere! artist who swallows his pride and gifts you a watercolour painting for valentine's day with a heavy blush on his cheeks, heart rate picking up as his hands graze yours, anxiously awaiting your reaction.

✎ yandere! artist who has his heart shattered into pieces as you address him as just a cool art guy. well, to be fair he didn't really talk to you that much but still! why won't you think of him as much as he thinks of you?!

✎ yandere! artist who starts talking and interacting with you more in an attempt to get you to fall for him, constantly gifting you with doodles of you and him in hopes that you will be more endeared by him.

✎ yandere! artist who becomes more and more infatuated as the two of you grow closer, occasionally taking pictures of you when you sleep in class and storing it in a secret folder dedicated to you. he can't help it, you're just too cute!

✎ yandere! artist who starts to solely paint, draw and even sculpt you, entering these pieces into competitions and obviously winning first place in all of them. sometimes even going as far as drawing you under him in sexual positions, later to be used as material to relieve him. his talent for art is just simply unmatched!

✎ yandere! artist who answers the reporters instantly whenever they ask who or where his main source of inspiration comes from.

✎ yandere! artist who waits for you to confess to him, unable to accept no as an answer. he'll play the waiting game, just don't make him wait too long, he'll get impatient and might do something you won't like.

✎ "my muse, do you like this drawing I made for you?"

[north-noire]

My Michael Afton throughout the years! ft. his own little doodles. I'll try to be brief about the timeline and how my Michael was without saying too much since it'll be explored in the Hidden Hands AU fic's chapters anyway so I won't say all the details. Feel free to read if you guys like! I have a lot to say about him.

1983 (FNAF 4) - Michael was 12 or 13-ish when the Bite happened. Very reckless yet adventurous kid. Didn't really hate Evan (William, as much as he had a soft spot for Evan, still loved Michael all the same), just had really bad friends and influence (his friends were mostly bullies) - and didn't really like that he's being told to parent a little brother he had no idea how to take care of. It didn't help that Evan tended to be a tattle-tail sometimes about the trouble he was getting into. Michael also, deep down, got scared of what the bullies would do to him if he dared stand up for his brother or spoke out against them, so he ends up going along with what they did for his own sake. After the Bite, Michael was still deeply guilty about what he did to Evan, and it haunts him every night, knowing he had no good excuse but irresponsibility for what he did to his brother, because after all, it wasn't like William wasn't giving him enough attention. Michael just knew that he deserved anything unfortunate coming to him, but is genuinely surprised that his father kept telling him he loved him all the same. From this point on, he becomes easily troubled, tends to stay close to his dad. Makes sure he follows the rules and doesn't do trouble. Just wants to do a complete personality shift, and is deeply ashamed of who he was before. 1985 (Charlie's death, Fredbear's Family Diner shuts down) - Michael was 15 here. Over the years, he slowly isolated himself from most of the people in his life since he gets worried about his past scars coming back to haunt him. Mostly a recluse and reserved. He's not handling things well after Charlie's death and a family divorce - not to mention the non-existent social life he had. Just prefers to be left alone, but he's nice if you get to know him. Doesn't really have a good relationship with Elizabeth, but is actually pretty close with William. Feels extremely guilty and hates himself/blames himself for Charlie's death. He gets paranoid easily, as he thinks whoever took Charlie is now after him, but his father tells him to not worry too much about it. 1987 (FNAF 2) - (17) Slowly having a good relationship with Elizabeth. Starts to get into stuff like the supernatural and becomes superstitious to a degree over the years. In public, he's mostly polite and nice, but his actual personality shows through whenever he's with his father or Elizabeth - he's sarcastic, and has quite a dark sense of humor, can be a bit of a rebel, he's just more subtle about it. A bit of an over-thinker - he gets lost in his imagination/head easily. Has a (surprisingly) good relationship with his dad, as he's not really afraid to be himself around him - sometimes gifts him funny things or something he knows his dad would love/would use (he gifts William a rabbit's foot - for good luck, he says). He also helped William build the Fun-Times with blueprints and other technicalities (He's not really aware of the questionable features they had, unfortunately). He couldn't really come with his father and Elizabeth on Circus Baby's Pizza World opening due to things he had to catch up with his home-schooling, he had been skipping classes to work on the Fun-Times, but he really wanted to graduate highschool with a bang, so he's giving everything his all, here. Then Elizabeth suddenly goes missing all of a sudden, and, well... I would say more, but my fic sort of takes a canon-divergence route around FNAF 2/SL-FNAF 1 so that would spoil half of the stuff I've been working/writing about! Reference-sheet wise, I just wanted to show how he progresses from a rebellious, happy and adventurous kid into a more reclused, anxious and soft-spoken adult. Sorry for the long post! I've just been wanting to talk about him for some time now. There's a looot more that I've left out but yeah that's because there will be more in the fic!

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Holy shit, y’all are insane. My tag list is over a HUNDRED (wtf y’all I’m kissing every single one of you on the forehead it was EIGHT before this) and the first part got over 800 notes in 24 hours. I love y’all 😂 With that being said though, Tumblr only allows for 50 mentions per post. So I’m drafting another post with the other 50-odd mentions that I’ll link this to. Unfortunately I’m not willing to make more than two posts, meaning my tag list is officially CLOSED. I’m so sorry, y’all, please know I love every single one of you SO much!! If you’d like to follow along and didn’t make it onto the taglist, go ahead and follow the ‘#if I should stay’ tag. I’ll make sure to use this tag for every update! Thank you all SO SO MUCH!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ and if you want to be dropped from the taglist, that’s fine too; just let me know! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Steve is terrified.

Honestly, after the Russians and the Upside Down and everything else, Steve thought he’d never be scared again.

Then he woke up in school in 1984.

He looks around, wide-eyed, only to stop when Tommy and Carol look at him weirdly. “Uh, Steve?” Carol asks. “You look like you’re about to puke.”

Full of tact, just like always. He shakes off the feeling of wrong crawling on his skin and smiles at her. “I’m fine,” he says, when nothing could be further from the truth.

She opens her mouth to respond. Steve breathes a sigh of relief when the bell goes off, only for him to realize he has no idea where he’s going.

Thank God for Carol, apparently, because she throws her head back with a groan. “Math,” she complains. “I hate math.”

Steve feels a zing of recognition dart through him. He had English while she was in math. They used to complain about it between classes.

He feels excited when he realizes Robin will be in this class, then just as suddenly excitement turns to nausea when he realizes she might not remember him.

He walks into class, trying to keep his hopes down, and briefly makes eye contact with her.

She’s doodling in a notebook, looking around the room. Their eyes meet.

Robin’s pencil lead snaps.

Steve freezes.

He opens his mouth, he’s not sure for what, but she shakes her head slightly.

She stands and makes her way towards him before her eyes flutter back in her head and she drops.

She would’ve fallen on the ground if he hadn’t caught her. Whispers start up, enough to get the teacher to look up. “Mr. Harrington,” she says. “I’m not sure what dance moves you think you’re trying, but I will remind you this is an English classroom.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says. “Um. She passed out. I think I should probably take her to the nurse.”

She leans over her desk to peer first at Steve, then at Robin, who still has her eyes closed. “Very well,” she says. “I’ll give you a hall pass. Please ensure she returns once her little spell has worn off.”

He nods, shifts Robin completely into his arms, and walks out of the classroom.

He walks down the hallway and stops by an empty classroom, darting in when nobody’s looking. “Robs,” he chokes, and her arms are around his neck and now he’s choking for an entirely different reason.

She’s shaking, and he feels hot tears land on his shoulder, and he knows she feels the same from his tears. “I thought-”

“I know,” Steve whispers. “I thought the same. I woke up and I was with Tommy and Carol again and I didn’t know what was going on and I was terrified you weren’t gonna remember me.”

“Jesus,” she says. She’s laughing a little, through her tears. “Imagine how I felt, waking up in Mrs. Click’s class. Thought I’d had a weird fever dream. Then you walked in, and…”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Jesus, Robs, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Right back atcha, Dingus,” she whispers, which really just makes his tears start all over again. “Who else do you think knows?”

Steve sighs. “I don’t know. And other than asking them, and risking getting sent to a padded room…”

“Yeah.” Robin sighs.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve says, tensing up.

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m still with Nancy.”

I tried to tag everyone who wanted it… I’m so sorry if I missed you! Once again I’m so sorry about closing the taglist. Thank you for understanding! ❤️

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Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @little-gae-shit

Me @ all of you:

[erika-xero]

Thoughts on ai and Art

What has Ai really changed for me is the perception of my own art. Years back, I was extremely concerned of my work being imperfect: everything had to look "right", the anatomy had to be flawless, the lines - clean and refined. The pipe-line had to be flawless too: minimal amount of layers, one - for lines, one - for colors, and a few for lighting/shading.

Meanwhile I was yearning for chaos and the standard pipe-line felt too strict, too limiting. I finished the drawing and cried over the imperfections, but I could not let myself create a new layer and just paint it all over as I wanted to - that would "mess up my perfect psd". This was even harder because I started as a traditional artist and traditional art is basically the same as drawing on one layer or stacking the layers on top of each other whenever you wish to change anything. I was so obsessed with the anatomy/perspective looking right that my works started looking boring and stiff. If I was not sure that I would be able to draw a certain body part at a certain angle ANATOMICALLY PERFECT - I just refused to draw it at all. Drawing back then was HARD. I forced too much limitations upon myself, I was so scared of making any mistakes and thus did everything I could to avoid the risk to fail. It felts like an entire world would see me failing and everyone - literally everyone - will disapprove. And don't get me wrong - the art community in my country has always been astonishingly toxic. We had, like, a group of 20 THOUSANDS individuals hunting down children online and bullying them into oblivion for drawing anime and furry characters in their school textbooks. And pretty much everyone except a small group of people (which I was a part of) thought that it's absolutely fine and this is how the things should be. Even the industry professionals were absolutely sure that young artists have to suffer and be ashamed of everything they do unless it is absolutely flawless at an any aspect. I was ashamed of everything I did back then. I was ashamed of drawing and posting sketches because I felt like they are not good enough to be shown to anyone. And then the Ai-boom started. And I had mixed feelings because I was not THAT scared, but I was somewhat disappointed of people? General public praised the generated slop ignoring the mistakes far worse than what real artists got bullied for for DECADES. The synthetic artworks are shiny. They are overrendered. They are liveless, boring, they lack fundamentals and yet somehow people viewed them as some kind of a miracle. I decided to learn how does those little machines generated their slop out of morbid curiosity, just to make sure that I got it right and it is spitting out cadavers created from mutilated, dismembered works of real artists. Used by people who did not care enough to pick up a bloody pencils. And I thought: why would I care enough to look at something that no one bothered to create? And then I started seeing everything I do completely different. I suddenly stopped caring of being perfect. Every piece I have ever done, every work I was crying over for it being ugly, every messy sketch and unfinished doodle suddenly started to matter a lot. Not that I stopped caring of doing my best, no. I stopped wishing to disown my own mistakes. They are my own. I cared enough to try and fail and to try again, and fail so badly that I wanted to cry, scream and throw up. And I repeated the cycle for long enough that I started to enjoy my silly doodles and started loving every tiny imperfection because this is what made my art so human. I still suck at drawing hands and feet. My line-art is messy and I started doing it right on top of my colored sketch. My pipe-line is in chaos and my PSDs look like a total mess of three hundreds of layers. I draw sketches with huge-ass round brush only adding the details that really matters. My works are better than they could ever be because they feel alive and chaotic as we human had always been. This is a love letter to my art and write it while flipping off my middle finger to the cadavers generated by the machine. I will not be stopped by glorified autocomplete and I refuse to be outdone by people who confuse googling an image with the act of creation.

My worst drawing is better than any of the generative imagery out there, because I cared drawing it.

[hopelessf4wn]

kate martin x barista reader ˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗

coffee kisses.

— kate started coming into the cafe you work at because her usual was closed for renovations. she wasn’t one to love change, but she was one to love coffee.

— the shop was small, and local. not many people came to this one as it was in a pretty secluded part of town, and most didn’t even know it had been built a few years back. the only customers you had were men who came in everyday hoping today would be the day you’d say yes to going out on a date with them, or people like kate who’d just put “coffee shop near me” into their gps. the coffee was amazing, the pastries were to die for, and you could say that your customer service was great. 

— her order was simple, easy to remember, and she was major sweetheart who always tipped you much more than you thought you deserved. every time you saw her car pull up, her order was made to perfection and some sort of doodle was draw on her cup.

— given she was extremely attractive, and her manners made her so much more enchanting, you were feeling bold. the shop was empty, your coworker was on break, and it was only you and kate. the girl stood looking at her phone, waiting for her order. you called her name, and handed her the cup which you had written “for the pretty blonde”. kate thanked you, not even bothering to look at the cup until she had entered her car. the second she’d read that her mind was all over the place. had this cup been for her? who else would it be for? did you find her pretty?

— the next time she visited the shop, she’d finally worked up the courage to ask for your number. 

“could i have your number. im sorry if that’s weird.. it’s fine if not, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” she said, fumbling over her words.

“i’ve been waiting for you to ask,” you giggle. you handed her her cup with your number written on the side.

— the two of you would facetime, and hangout, first as “friends” but you both knew you’d never be “friends”. the mutual attraction that neither of you would admit was the elephant in the room, both of you too afraid it would scare the other off. 

— the second you got together, dating rumors were all over. not that you minded. you adored being able to call the blonde yours. your dumb videos posted about being a barista were suddenly viral and business at the shop was doing so well that you’d been given a raise. 

her posting pictures of you in you’re uniform with the caption “barista of the year!!” 

— the kisses shared between you two tasted coffee-like and maybe that’s why she was so addicting. you were hooked on her touch, you craved the feeling of her lips on yours. you both loved your “coffee kisses”.

divs are by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged , first wnba work.

[miifu666]

Hi I’m a big fan of your blog , love how you draw the characters!!

How do you think monkey king and suklha would court each other.

Helloww ♡♡♡

Funny you ask that!!! 😭 i just finished a doodle about that too!

Since Wukong's a hot tempered and unpredictable monkey king with a high self esteem. I like to add a bit of Monkey facts in his behaviour. Ofc besides the fighting the gods to keep his lover i dont think thats normal monke

From what i know, male monkeys usually start the flirting to enter a sort of consortship with the female. So i believe, Wukong despite the virgin that he is. Would be the first one to show interest.

Monkeys usually spend time with their future mate during courtship, so i figured instead of eating and talking to eachother to spend time. Wukong would challenge Suklha during the first few stages of courtship, if Suklha manages to outwit him he would let out these noises thats a mix of excited chirps and amused chuckles. Seeing Suklha managed to beat him in his own challenge is akin to her saying

"oh you're good, but ill try and beat you to show you im capable of being beside you"

even better when Suklha lets him groom her properly, it would take hours upon hours for him to show her that he's a good mate to keep her pretty and light colored hair clean. Suklha sitting down and waiting for him to finish, only to groom him back with her own pinchers is a sign that she accepted Wukong's feelings. (In his head anyway)

This works with Suklha, too. Centipedes spend time with their mates to start the mating ritual. Female centipedes usually release certain pheromones to attract the male interest. Wukong might notice how she has a more enzymatic scent, floral and berry-like, reminding him of the tree peaches in flower fruit mountain. This works with monkeys, although i think they release a certain odour when they want to mate rather than... courtship-

This in turn, makes Wukong more physically affectionate towards Suklha. His hands never leaving her waist whenever they talk to someone, glaring at anyone who dares to come pick her up like some sort of harlot. Wukong would compliment her to make her pay attention to him more whenever they're in public, of course this is Wukong. Hes not that good with compliments-

Suklha : you dimwit! Ive told you before how to do it!

Wukong : It seemed like i was right at first! Why are you getting so mad over! Just because you're decent-looking doesn't mean you can reprimand me however you like!

Suklha : ...?

Wukong , counting his fingers : Smart, quick-witted, courteous! Just because you're all that doesn't mean you can shout at me all you want!!

Suklha : i..

Wukong : AND STOP LOOKING SO GOOD

Suklha : IM BREATHING???

Wukong : WELL YOU LOOK GOOD DOING IT

Lastly, it would be a hard way to recognize but Wukong would speak towards her with a deeper tone of voice than usual. He'd even try to talk to her more calmly than yelling high-pitched like usual.

He'll smile more and probably do anything, yes even kill some demons and yaoguai to get an object of her desire or something that reminds him of her. Like a red jacket he saw in a village near the mountains, he'll snatch it and put it on Suklha without any word. Not even a "here's a new jacket" nope. They're already this deep in the courtship stage, she should understand what he means when he gives her things. He might glare at Suklha whenever he sees her missing the object he's given her, no words, just bites and glares.

All in all, it would be a bit chaotic. Like seeing your two best friends slowly getting together. Especially Suklha who despite showing interest in the courtship, suddenly denied Wukong of her answer after his proposal. Of course, this isn't done out of spite. She knows the consequences of accepting his proposal and she wont let a creature of this world suffer due to her. Suklha is a trickster, but she still has a heart.

[14thgalerie]

tell me why

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: dangerous by madison beer

• word count: 3.3k

• genre: angst, fluff (barely)

— based on this request, i hope you like this one even though i'm pretty sure this isn't what you had in mind huhu. i tried to find a way to go about this prompt that isn't all cliche and was written before.

Projects given over the holiday: written and set aside in a matter of six hours.

Every crevice and corner of his room is now spotless.

A game of quidditch with Lorenzo with his siblings.

And that’s the entire list. He has finally run out of things to do, yet the sun remains shining brightly outside. What was supposed to be an uneventful day had turned out to be quite a hectic one. An accidental glance at the desk that sits below the tall windows ruined the extraneous effort he had gone to in order to forget about a certain envelope or rather someone.

An entire day has already passed since his owl dropped by to hand him a single envelope. After taking a glance at the sender, he couldn’t bring himself to open it right at that instance.

In all honesty, he has absolutely no idea as to why he is avoiding opening it; well maybe he does know, and maybe it’s the reason for the dread that kept stirring at the pit of his stomach. The last time he heard from you was at the Hogwarts Express before you completely cut off contact with him.

It’s been an entire week now since the holiday break started, the same amount of time since he received a word from you, something that has never occurred. Your fights had never lasted for longer than necessary— a day would be the worst of it because he despises it whenever people make matters worse for themselves by ignoring one another. But despite his great hatred for it, he doesn’t feel a single thing except for the urgency and desperation that you answer him.

So, he doesn’t understand why you suddenly shut away from him when everything has been going great. One moment you were all snuggled up to him in the compartment you shared with your friends and then not a single word from you from the hundreds of letters he must’ve sent by now.

The sound of knocking pulls him from his thoughts.

“Hey Theo, I left some food for you here if you’re awake. Mom also set aside some medicine if you’re not feeling well, she’s worried for you.” He hears Lorenzo at the door trying to talk to him, unsure if he is even being heard by Theo.

Silence fills the room as Lorenzo leaves, thinking that he’s still asleep. Looking at the yellow ribbon that wraps around the envelope, he reaches out and takes hold of it for the first time since he last dropped it.

Pulling the band with a sense of uneasiness, he sees that it doesn’t have anything special on it, just your name at the front and numbers at the upper left corner. Pulling out the paper— wondering if the little doodles that always accompanied your letter for him would be there, but he is left frowning at the blank edges. Flipping it open, he laughs out loud at the naivety of believing it will be any good before he is choked by the lump that formed in his throat.

Let’s break up, Theo.

I’m a coward to do this over a letter, I know. I won’t blame you if you’re mad at me. I have been constantly depressed at the thought of doing this. In the weeks leading up to when I am writing this, I have been incessantly living vicariously through the memory of us. 

I know it’s too much to ask after doing this to you, but please never talk to me again. Don’t ask. I won't be able to explain to you, not when I still don’t understand it and how I’m feeling.

Goodbye.

You wonder if he’ll ask. You wonder if you will ever tell him. How you will explain, how you might run away instead. It’ll be an answer enough to satiate the questions that barrage through the doors of your mind without warning.

Theo was lying in his bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to move when your body is deprived of sustenance; nor food or sleep is enough. So he lays there in the forced darkness from his drawn bed curtains, body more still and cold than a dead body 6 feet underground.

He couldn’t handle another day of hiding behind the old facade of indifference. At first, it was easy. He heeded your wish of keeping his distance even if every atom in his body begged to be near you. Saving the most painful, physical sobbing in his solitude. He was fine just seeing you be there; alive and breathing.

As the days lingered on, however, it wasn’t enough. Not when you have deprived him even of that one simple thing. Disappearing from every class you’re sharing only to find out you have requested to attend another class.

He didn’t have the energy to keep up with that charade anymore. Letting himself wither until he’s only a nutshell of the man you’ve built in the ruins of his past.

He had, in every sense but physical, become a ghost, drifting between the phases of the day without a sense of time. He relies on his day-to-day life by moving on autopilot.

He doesn’t know what he did, he begs to know because he cannot go on another day like this. 

“Theodore Nott!”

His attention is called away when he hears a booming voice beside him followed by the bright light that showers over him as the curtain of his canopy is pulled open. Not a care if the man wasting away hours behind it will be mad at her. 

Pansy only knew one thing: she would not have her best friend lose every prospect in his life because of both of your lack of communication. She couldn’t give a damn if you will ever manage to resolve your issues. For now, Theo is her priority and he needs to stand up and study.

She had already managed to fix you up enough to have you up and functioning, although a mere ghost on legs. But that will do, now for this man who is at the grunt of your problems.

“Stand up and go to the library.” She pulls the blanket which barely covers him, and throws it someplace. “You are going to fail your NEWTS at this rate.”

“Who cares?” He drawls out. Turning to his side to cower beneath his pillows.

“Your future does.” Knowing that he will never stand at his own will, she gathers every bit of strength in her to pull him by his arms.

“Gods, Pans. Can you just bugger off and leave me alone?”

He tries to wave her off and turns to slide beneath the welcoming arms of his bed. But before his face plants onto the soft, strewn fabric, he is pushed and pushed until they are greeted by the long, grimy corridor outside their common room. His bag full of books was thrown out the door after him. With his lack of energy, all he can do is follow her demand.

Hoping that this will distract him.

Theo trudged towards the library, dragging his feet behind him. Maybe the tranquil ambiance could be a soothing balm for his aching heart. Make him finally focus on other things in his life, knowing that whatever reason you may have, you would never wish that he put his studies on hold.

Theo chose a table tucked away in a quiet corner, where he could fully immerse himself in his books and thoughts. The flickering candle lights atop the wooden tables, weathered by the countless students that passed through Hogwarts, had added a comforting touch to his isolation. Casting dancing shadows on the polished surfaces.

This worked for about an hour and a half until he realised he had forgotten his advanced Potions book in his other bag.

Surrounded by towering bookshelves, Theo began searching for a copy of the book he’s missing and some other texts that might be helpful for his NEWTS classes. As he reached a particular shelf that contained the very books he was looking for, he couldn’t help but overhear snippets of a conversation, the hushed tones barely above a whisper. 

“-Theodore?”

He decided to walk away, thinking the conversation private, when his attention was caught by the mention of his name. He wasn’t able to catch the question but he was intrigued.

With a furrowed brow, he furtively strained over the tiny slot in the shelf he pulled a book from to see two familiar faces opposite him, unaware of the person with wide eyes that locked in on one person. 

As if on instinct, he dwindles at the sight of you, like a cord being pulled out of its socket, his body going back on autopilot.

He almost slapped himself in the forehead for not recognizing your voice sooner, but he wonders. Why had you appeared so sullen and gaunt? Would it have to do with him since you mentioned him? He leans back on the shelves awaiting to hear more, wondering why you were supposedly that way when you have been acting like nothing had happened between the two of you. 

“We’re not together anymore, Luna.” You say in a dejected voice. Seeing it written on paper hurt, but nothing could compare to the anguish that invaded him at hearing it from you, feeling hopeless to the constant sharp pain on his chest that wrenched deeper into the wound.

“Is that why he’s been staying by the Ford Bog recently?” Luna unassumingly asks, curious. 

“What?”

“When I come by to feed the Thestrals, he is always there talking to them.” He hears Luna explain. He hadn’t known that Luna had been coming over to see them also. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers that, like him, she had also witnessed her mother’s death.

“Oh.” You must be thinking about what he confessed to you when you found him in a similar situation back in the fourth year.

“You miss him.” From the manner that Luna says it, it was less of a speculation and more of a fact. “I do.” You confess.

This makes him confused. His brows knit together as he tries his best to piece together the words that slipped from you in a way he understands. You had been the one to break off your relationship suddenly, without a word of explanation. But now you sit there, admitting you miss him after you ask him to keep his distance. He is tempted to turn the corner and ask you.

“But you constantly run away from him?” Luna asks for him instead. She follows it up with another question. “You broke up with him, right?”

There was a pregnant pause before he heard your voice again.

“Yes, I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I was scared that he would do it sooner or later and I didn’t want to experience the pain of hearing it from him first-hand. So then, I decided that I would do the job for him.” You explain. 

He is left stumbling back at the accusation, knowing within himself that it would be the last thing he would do in a million years. Ever, actually. What spurred this idea from you? He finds it incredibly insulting that you would think he would.

Luna asks why you think he’ll do that. 

You say after a moment’s pause, “He’s been hanging out with this new friend of his before the holidays, and at first I didn’t care because I trusted him. But she just-” Your breath hitches, “She began to be more flirty and provocative with him and he didn’t even blink an eye.” 

You take in a sharp breath. “I know he would never do it, and he probably didn’t even notice but I don’t know…” 

His subconscious blocked out any of what followed after that horrid confession. Memories came in sudden assaults on his brain and senses. He doesn’t like how uncertain you sounded: he doesn’t know why you would think twice of his actions. 

Truth be told, he did indeed notice the weird affectionate manner in Scarlet’s approach to him. Frankly, he didn’t care and settled to ignore her in order to avoid conflict as she was a friend of Mattheo. Putting her in the back of his mind and that would be the end of it.

He always knew that you had this fear that he would leave you for another, this is provoked more by his terrible past with women before you. But he never thought it would be a problem for your relationship as he constantly did his best to remind you that it was either you or nothing at all. 

Though he couldn’t exactly blame you, even now as he sinks into the cold stone ground, he was stupid to think that ignoring Scarlet would suffice.

Sitting on the cold, hard floors with his head in between his hands, digits tightly clutching his hair. He doesn’t hear Luna excusing herself from your session, leaving you to clean up to prepare to leave. Stuck in the confusing labyrinth that his mind wandered off to, he didn’t notice the gentle footsteps near him, trying to avoid the librarian’s wrath.

“Theo?”

Nothing.

“Hello?”

Still not a thing from him. You become concerned.

“Theodore? Are you alright?”

You find yourself forgetting the very promise that you had even asked Theo to uphold— to never approach you. But despite your stern resolve, the sight of Theo sitting in the library corner, his distress palpable, throws it all out. Instead, the nagging fear that if you're the source of his evident turmoil.

“Theo.” You crouch down in front of him, keeping your hands nestled to your lap.

He didn’t even lift his head— you weren’t sure if he was not acknowledging you or that he simply didn’t notice you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it. Your feet are itching to run.

“I’m sorry.” He finally looks up to meet your eyes and your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he was not in good condition. You’re confused as to why he’s being like this. 

But somewhat you knew. Your heart pounds relentlessly against your chest. You knew what he was going to say.

“What do you mean?” 

He shakes his head. Eyes plastered intently on the creaking floorboards. “Scarlet.”

When he speaks it into existence, you dislike the way you flinch, the familiar bitterness spreading throughout your body. Your heart drops into the pits of your stomach.

“I- I’m sorry.” Theo’s voice quivered, his words trembling on the precipice of his emotions. His eyes were becoming blurred by the veil of his tears, bearing a weight that seemed almost unbearable. “Fuck, I’m so so sorry, Y/N.”

The lump in your throat threatened to suffocate you, leaving you on the brink of despair unable to respond properly. 

“It’s my fault. I never know when something upsets you. I hardly know you better than how I’m supposed to.” He says it like he means it. Theo says it to himself more than he says it to you. 

The world slows down to an adagio, and you’re caught up in the emotion that washes over you at his condition. Theo is rarely dishevelled; he’s hardly all over the place. If anything, he has always been quite proper, the opposite of the man in front of you.

You say his name softly, your gut tightening at the heart-breaking sight in front of you. Hesitating to reach out and hold him close to you. So you reach out to wipe away the lone tear that slides down his face.

“Merlin…I should be the one saying sorry.” 

“What?” He finally pulls him together enough to reply to you coherently.

“It’s not you. You’re not the problem.” Your subconscious running at a millimetre per second to come up with the right words to amend his words. Finding this a bit harder than you expected. “I am so broken that my body is just encased in this eternal itch to run.”

“When I saw how you were so unconcerned about Scarlet’s obvious attempts, I panicked. I let that fear get the best of me, letting it poison my mind. I was afraid that one day you’d begin to reciprocate her attraction. Maybe you would have been happier with her. I was terrified of losing you, and when the holidays came, I grabbed the chance to cower back and let it consume me. I didn’t wanna hear you confirm that hellish thought.”

“What changed?” He croaks out. “Why are you telling me all this now?”

“A big part of it comes from my conversations with Mum. I kind of forgot that she never really sides with me when it comes to my irrational decisions and she’s always been the one to make me realise it.” You feel the urge to laugh at the thought, but you restrain yourself. 

“And by heaven’s will, I want you to be happy but the need to be your happiness far outweighs that.”

But he does nothing but remain seated silently, nothing in him revealing that he plans to move. And you are terrified, for once you had no idea what was going on inside his head but you know that you had to let him think on his own. To stop assuming and making decisions off of it.

“You, you are a great deal of a headache to me. I have spent days questioning myself; was I so horrible that I couldn't even be granted the decency to be broken up to my face." cried Theo. 

“No you weren’t, Theo. I promise you.”

“I know I’m not. Yet, you still made me feel like it. I was happy with you, you were my lone happiness. I think it’ll be awhile before I forget this, despite what you confess.” He says, his voice choking up now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady.

“Is that true, Theo?”

“But as upset and tired I am, I still love you.” He acquiesced. “It’s laughingly pathetic how I am still entirely yours.”

He stopped short, his hands that rested on his lap emerging to take yours in its grasp. Their grip is a perfect balance of a strong hold and a gentleness.

“And I love you too, I don’t think I ever stopped. I promise you that I’ll work on myself, make things right between us again, because I don’t think I can go on for another day like this.” You said, sworn with a conviction so strong.

He shook his head and to that you feel the disgusting worm that whispers to you appear, “No. We’re gonna do it together, alright?” But it’s crushed under his pretty foot.

“I promised you then that I wouldn’t leave you to face whatever problems you have on your own. When I confessed to you ’I love you’, it meant that I would continuously be by your side to help you with your troubles. Our troubles.” He reminds you. “We’ll fix this together from now on…nobody is doing things solo.”

He tugs on your arms, telling you wordlessly to sit beside him. When you do, by habit and longing, your head moves to rest on the juncture of his neck inhaling the scent you missed most.

Nothing felt better than to have the urge to have your head resting on him be satisfied, he wanted nothing more than to feel something as mundane as this.

As he leaned his head on her temple, you felt giddy, feeling yourself turn tomato red at the action. It was a happy time, in spite of the things that remained to be talked about, so happy that you couldn’t dare to disturb it with anything.

“Y/N…” He breaks the silence.

You hum. 

“Did you ever dream about me?” 

“I thought about you.”

Only a soft squeeze to your hand serves as a reply.

masterlist

[emelinstriker]

Soundwave & Shockwave ♡ Be More Expressive

Second X Reader one-shot to be dropped. And guess who's just been told that her wisdom teeth need to be extracted. Fuck. :D

[TL;DR] You have stickers and art supplies. And two lovely victims.

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

"There is nothing logical about what you are doing."

"Shush'up, Shocky- I'll have you know I'm great at drawing!" You sassily stated as you continued working on a little doodle on his shoulder pad. You drew it right in your science lover's field of view so he would also remember you were there. However, your body was in front of the drawing to make it a bit of a surprise. So for the last few minutes Shockwave was only able to stare at your butt. Not bad of a sight in his point of view (literally), but he was still curious.

"That's not what I was referring to."

"I know, I know... But then you'll have something that reminds you of our relationship! No worries, it's easy to wash off if you don't like the drawing in the end." The cyclops ex-vented, deeming your response as logical enough to please him.

"And... tadaaa! What do you think?" You moved aside so Shockwave could have a proper look at what you did to his shoulder pad.

You drew an adorable little piece of his and Soundwave's helms, as well as your head surrounded by a heart. Shockwave actually felt a little flattered by your artwork, and yet he decided to play off what he actually felt.

"It looks logical", he commented. You pouted at his response. Again, he found your human way of expressing yourself interesting.

"Be more expressive, damn'it!" Suddenly your gaze locked onto your little bag filled with your art supplies... including stickers and sticky notes. You had a grin on your face as you pulled out a package of stickers and took out a few. Once you had a few sticking to your hand, you turned to give your Conjunx a bright smile before leaning down and lightly slapping random colorful stickers all over his chassis. If Shockwave had a faceplate instead of one optic, he probably would've given you a confused pokerface mixed with internal screaming. But here he was, simply observing your actions out of curiosity.

"What are you doing?"

"Sticking sticky stickers, duh. Here," you started as you grabbed a sticky note and wrote something on it before aggressively sticking the note just above his optic. "You deserve a DUM sticker for that question, mister!" You pouted at him before slapping his frame with more stickers. You finally decided to stop when you emptied one whole sticker package, finishing by putting a little unicorn sticker on your own cheek for a little partner look. Leaning back to have a better overview of your newest masterpiece, you hummed in satisfaction. The scientist was covered in stickers that looked definitely odd on him, accompanied by a DUM sticker over his optic. Good thing the note was so much smaller than his optic because otherwise giving him a little kiss on it would've made it a bit harder. "I love you."

After giving him the little kiss as appreciation for his tolerance, a certain Intelligence Officer came into the lab, much to Shockwave's relief and your happiness. You frantically waved one arm around up high, leaning back against Shockwave's helm. "Hiya, Sounders!"

As he walked over to the two of you, his visor held the image of a smile until he was standing in front of you and the bigger mech. The ex-gladiator raised his servo up next to you and gently rubbed your cheek with a digit. A pixel heart appeared on his visor as he did so. You giggled at his affection, leaning into his digit's touch. "Aw, I love you too."

You glanced at Shockwave's sticker-covered frame and smirked mischivously, turning back to face your other Conjunx' visor. The heart instantly faded and got replace with a raised eyebrow emoticon. He didn't like that look on your face and decided to leave while he still could. So, he slowly pulled his digit away from you and took one step backwards.

"Hey Shocky," you started as you pulled out another package of stickers. "Wanna see me make Sounders suffer as well?" His ear fins perked up in delight. He was definitely amused by your suggestion.

"Equality only seems logical, sweetspark."

Shockwave approached the shorter mech, already armed with you in his servo. You were smirking, menacingly. The scientist held you out towards the TIC's chassis. And before said mech could escape by moving further back, there was already a unicorn sticker slapped onto him. Surprised by your swiftness, he looked down at his chassis. You caught him off-guard once more when he saw you had already drawn a little red heart on Laserbeak's left wing.

That's when he heard rather evil giggling coming from his right.

Oh scrap. You were now on his shoulder pad, doodling away with a line of stickers already trailing up from his chassis to the side of his helm.

You and Shockwave weren't exactly the sneakiest duo, so this greatly surprised him. Then again, he must've been in some form of trance in that moment. However, there wasn't much he could do to stop you now that you already marked him with your stickers and drawings. Well, more like he didn't have the spark to stop you. You have managed to basically capture him and he was being a good sport about it.

The scientist had already resumed working on the project you had interrupted earlier, calm relief visible in his posture. His sticker-covered frame turned to you one last time. "They are your artistic problem now, Soundwave. Do not bring them back until all their stickers and art supplies are gone from their possession." His right ear fin flicked upwards by a little, as if he was smirking at your other lover.

You laughed at his words while the masked mech showed a smiley on his visor as he nodded. Then he decided to walk out of the room with you still present on his shoulder, having your fun with your supplies.

Bonus:

Shockwave approached Megatron's location, ready to report his progress, when the warlord suddenly let out a chuckle. He couldn't even look the cyclops properly in the optic. The DUM sticker was too much of a funny distraction.

"I see. Soundwave wasn't the only victim affected by this... sticky situation."

His ear fins drooped at his master's discovery, unamused by the joke. That's when he looked behind the grey mech and noticed Soundwave completely covered in stickers and lovely drawings. He had more stickers on him than Shockwave, and yet still held a pixel heart on his visor as he used one digit to pat their shared organic Conjunx, who was still on his shoulder pad, on the head.

[ Masterlist ]

[ayanominitrash]

Act Cool, Senpai! (Geto Suguru x reader)

₊˚ ♡

Geto-san takes a liking to his cute kouhai.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

First Entry. 2nd Entry here. Masterlist. AO3

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Geto Suguru never thought of love.

Unlike his classmate, Gojo Satoru, who thinks of it 24/7. Despite this, he isn’t oblivious to the fact that he’s ironically Jujutsu High’s campus crush over the Gojo. Who knows why, but he guesses it was something about his ‘nihilistic smile’ as his senior Mei-san once mentioned, not missing the way she eyed him from head to toe with a flirtatious look.

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

Regardless, he’d rather focus on his studies and on working hard as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. That’s all he knew after all. It’s what got him out of his rural village and scouted into the busy streets of Tokyo.

Except, he can’t help but notice his cute little kouhai. 

During Midterms months in the First Semester, you’d politely knock on the door to their classroom and shyly poke your head in, asking for Shoko. Geto would always look forward to that time of the day, the third period in the morning. He finds his heart suddenly racing as his eyes land on you, only to look back down to pretend reading the notes he took for their last class when really he was thinking how you look so cute today, just like any other day. Or how that cute new sweater you were wearing over your dark Jujustu uniform looks so good on you. How cute your hair looks when you clip a few of your front hairs back. 

Needless to say, Geto Suguru, for once, was a mess.

And it was all because of you.

“Who’s that girl who always comes here?” Geto innocently asks Shoko one day after their first class in the morning. 

They were all sprawled in their seats: Gojo on his right-hand side, lazily doodling some god-awful looking Digimon characters over his empty ‘notes’; Shoko on his left side, messing with her phone, texting who knows what. 

“Who? Oh, you mean our kouhai? She’s a year below us with Haibara and Nanami. Why do you ask?” She answers, not bothering to look up from the small screen.

“She’s like, always here.” Gojo pipes up, still scribbling in his notebook. 

“You guys close?”

“Obviously. Why else would we go to our next class together?” 

“Ah, you two share a class together? You don’t mean that. . she can also do external Reverse Cursed Technique?” Geto asks in awe. 

The brunette only nods with a bored look on her face. Gojo stops his ministrations on his notebook for a moment to whistle. “Another rare one. It’s good to know our new batch of sorcerers are coming in with talent.”

“I’m just glad I’m not alone in class anymore. You couldn’t even imagine just how - ” 

She was probably reminiscing about her first year when she had to take RCT-specialized classes all on her own, often complaining to them about how boring it was to be the only student there at the end of the day. Of course, the rest of the conversation went over Geto’s head as he was still processing the fact that you’re so rare, talented, and powerful to be one of the only few RCT users in all of Jujutsu Society.  On top of all of that, you’re gorgeous. You probably have a few boys fawning over you, sorcerers or none-sorcerers.

Geto, for a moment, forgets that he’s one of the 2 strongest sorcerers in this generation, and suddenly feels inferior to you, like he’s out of your league. After all, both he and Gojo couldn’t use RCT on themselves, let alone do it to others.

You’re, in no doubt, a gem.

“Anyway, why did you even ask? Are you annoyed she keeps coming over or something?” 

He blinks, realizing that his friend is looking at him now with the same lazy eyes she has, expecting an answer.

“Oh - what? Of course not. I was just curious since she just started popping up a few months ago.” 

Gojo hums in agreement, insinuating that he too was curious about you.

The raven-haired teen goes back to his reading, making a mental note to not ask too much about you, or else they’d get suspicious. Geto has never really felt these feelings before so he might be wearing his heart on his sleeve. 

Also, he mentally begs his heart to stop racing with the mere mention of you. 

Please.

₊˚ ♡

One afternoon after classes, Geto volunteered to clean up and erase the writing on the chalkboard, while Gojo and Shoko were packing their stuff to up and leave.

He wasn’t expecting it, but there was that same tiny knock on their class door. 

It was you, awkwardly standing in the doorway, hands gripping the straps of your bag.

“Ieiri-san. . .” You say in a shy voice, only flicking your eyes momentarily to both him and Gojo, before subtly hiding behind the doorframe.

Too cute, Geto thought.

“Your girlfriend is hereeeee.” Gojo sings, to which Geto whips his head in panic, only to realize that the tease was addressed to Shoko. That little act was thankfully, not noticed by any of those present.

“Shut up, Gojo.” The brunette tsked before shooting you an apologetic look. “Ignore him. Do you see what I have to deal with? Hold for a minute, still fixing my stuff.” 

“You guys heading somewhere?”

Geto doesn’t know where he finds the courage, but he decides to set down the chalkboard eraser and approach you. Maybe because he’s been itching to talk to you these past few months. You immediately stand upright when he starts to get close, no longer hiding behind the doorframe. 

“Ah- Geto- san! H-hello!” You quickly bow, “I-it’s an honor! E-er, Ieiri-san, and I w-will be going somewhere - eh, yes! Getting Ice cream…cones.” You lift your head up but still stare at your shoes, inwardly cringing at yourself.

Geto and Gojo share a look, the latter wierded out, and the former does a breathy chuckle. 

Too cute! Geto thought once again.

“Ah, is that so? She must be fed up enough with us to leave us out of it. Anyway, It's an honor that our kouhai knows my name. It makes me a little guilty of not knowing yours. So, name?”

You shyly tell him your name.

“Ah, that's a pretty name. It's imprinted in my brain now.”

“Oi, you!” Shoko elbows Geto’s stomach out of the way, pushing past the doorway and hooking your arm onto hers, dragging you away. “Stop harassing my kouhai, will you? We’re off.”

“E-eh! It was nice talking to you, Geto-san, a-and Gojo-san!” 

Geto tries to wave the both of them off but can’t help slide his back down against the wall, rubbing the spot Shoko elbowed him on. She did not hold back.

But that wasn’t why he was weak in the knees.

He finally got the chance to talk to you, and he didn’t stutter at all. Geto does find some relief that you were just as flustered with talking to him as he was feeling with you, all red in the face with those wide eyes like that. It’s making his heart do 360’s. 

“Weird little fella, ain’t she?” Gojo asks as he passes by Geto on the floor, his backpack in hand. “Let’s go before the little runts fill up the arcade. I wanna make sure to get all these school stress out of my veins.”

Geto huffs as he stands up, “You barely even study.”

“Take that back.”

₊˚ ♡ - - - -

Meanwhile . . .

“Ieiri-san, Geto-senpai looks so great today, as always.” You swoon with your eyes closed and your hands to your face as the both of you exit the school campus, the orange sunset bathing the skies.

“Huh? Really? You know, sometimes I feel like you're just using me to see him. I don’t know why you like him, but I guess he’s better than that other idiot, Gojo.”

You loop an arm back around hers, "Of course, I’d never use you like that, senpai! I'd literally die of boredom without you!"

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere

//

THE FACT THAT I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING FOR DADDY SUGURU SINCE OCTOBER IS A SIN I NEED TO REPENT FOR ASAP ✞✞✞ would anyone even want a part two of this? any maybe turn it into my first series here //

[hxjikonn]

Hi, dear! Congratulations for the 143 followers! I hope by time you read this the followers has already grown past 143! You deserve that much of love because your writing is just so amazing! I hope more people can found your account and love it just like how I love it to the core!

If you don't mind, can I request a short scenario of Azul, Vil, and Malleus (separately) with a gn s/o who likes to wear his clothes in private? Like, when the character enters his room, he found his s/o wearing his dorm uniform and trying to mimick his usual action in front of the mirror. What will they do?

A/N: WAIT STOP THIS IS TOO CUTE 😭🥹♥︎ HOPE YOU LIKE HOW I WRITE THIS ONE!! sorry it took too long for me to respond too🥹

Play dress up

☆Staring☆: Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit and Malleus Draconia.

Synopsis: Their reaction to their s/o wearing their clothes

Azul Ashengrotto

You poked his cheek again, getting impatient, he sighs and looks at you, you had a visible upset pout on your face that caused him to chuckle slightly “My little sea angel, can you hold on just a bit longer? I’m almost done” he pleaded whilst turning his attention back to the papers on his desk.

You groaned and sat on the floor, you were bored out of your mind waiting for him, “this is the third time you’ve said that…” you mumbled, “I know…I know, I’m sorry, I’ll be done shortly okay?” He cooed kissing your forehead. You looked up at his desk, he still had so much to finish… “Azul, maybe I should just go home…you look really busy and I don’t want you to rush if because of me” you stood up from the floor.

He pulls you closer to him causing you to lightly plop on his lap, “Noooo don’t leave. I promise I’ll be done soon…” he whines squeezing your waist with his arms. You yourself really didn’t want to leave aswell, so you nodded and promised you’ll stay.

“You can wait for me in my room, it’s much comfier there” he says and you lit up with excitement, there were only a few instances where you got to stay in Azul’s room, and be all by yourself…he never really left you there in fear you’d find his pictures from when he was younger.

“Kay!! I’ll go set the movie!! I’ll wait for you byeee!” You stood up from his lap and ran out, Azul could only laugh in both nervousness and adoration from your excitement. When you got there your eyes sparkled with curiosity, you didn’t wanna make a mess of course but you sure did take your time to look and search every corner of his room.

You did find his album and maybbeeee took pictures of his baby photos on your phone, when you had nothing to do and Azul still hasn’t arrived, one particular thing caught your interest. His closet

You skimmed through his clothes and found another pair of his dorm uniform, probably from his first year since it was a bit smaller than his new one, an idea popped in your head and you hurriedly changed into it. And yes you even included the fedora and scarf.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and giggled, though it was a smaller version, it was still a little big for you, you took pictures and posed while laughing. Then you start to remember Azul’s little habits and started acting like him.

You sat on his desk pretending to do paper work “Later Y/n, I’m busy with boring papers” you mimicked his voice as best as you could. Laughing at yourself in between sentences. You started to get in character more and didn’t notice the time passing. Soon Azul entered the room to see you standing in front of his bed facing away from him, a hand on your hip and the other holding a doodled contact you made.

“Hey you…yeah I’m talking to you octo-plush, make a deal with me…“ you said holding the doodled contract up to the octopus plushy Azul bought you… he laughs quietly before clearing his throat “I’ll make a deal with you instead.” He says suddenly, you turned to face him in panic, so much so that the fedora that was too big for your head slanted, covering your face, you quickly took off the hat and looked at your boyfriend who had the biggest grin on his face.

Unbeknownst to you, your face had already tinted red, he laughs at the sight. He walks up to you and cups your face in his hands peppering you with kisses, “You look cute in my clothes sea angel, do you wanna keep them?” He asks with the softest tone. You nodded with smile, “Okay, I’ll let you, but only because you make a convincing ‘Azul’ you might just fool the twins if you wanted to” he teased. Earning an eye roll from you,

He kisses your cheek once more and lets your face go “As much as I love to see you in those, I know they aren’t comfy, so why dont we both get changed and start the movie?” he took the scarf off you and hung it up, “Yeah okay, I was just going to do that before you came in anyways” you said while walking to the bathroom to change

“Are you sure? You seemed busy trying to persuade octo-plush to sign the contract” he teases again while taking his tie off, “Shut uuuppp” you whined in the bathroom, and he laughed, once you both got changed you cuddled up in his bed and watched the movie, and no the teasing did not stop.

Vil Schoenheit

You accompanied him in one of his photo shoots today, he wanted to see you there as he was posing for the camera, thinking you’d be mesmerized by his beauty. It turned to be the other way around, Vil is always professional, not distracted by eyes or mumbles and whispers from around him.

You were a different case though, since you were his ‘beloved potato’… “Okay I think we should take five everyone!” The photographer announced, Vil wasn’t at his best today, mainly because you flash him the prettiest smiles when he glances over to you during his photoshoot. Part of him also wants to blame that he’s tired but we all know that’s an excuse to go home early so he can spend time with you.

You meet him half way, jogging over to him with a water bottle, a mirror and and his make up bag in hand. He mouths a small thanks and drinks as you hold up the mirror for him. You stared at him with pure awe in your face “so pretty…” you unknowingly mumble out loud. Vil looks up from the mirror to meet your eyes, the look on your face was enough to make him erupt in a fit of laughter.

You tilt your head to the side, confused at his reaction, suddenly you were pulled closer to your lover and showered with soft feather like kisses leaving lipstick stains on all over your face. “Dearest, I love you, I do but sometimes you make me wonder if your really an enchantress who’s got a love spell on me” he jested, framing your face with his hands. “Hey even if I did you don’t mind right?” You joked back, smiling up at him.

He rolled his eyes and huffed, “Well, if you’re little spell kept me from focusing on my job then yes I do mind…” you felt him repeatedly pinch your cheeks softly, “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything…” you defended, “You’re being a menace by being so adorable, and you dont even know it!” he declared

You pretended to be offend with a huge dramatic gasp “Vil Schoenheit are you saying I’m a distraction??” You squinted your eyes pretending to be mad “Indeed potato, a very eye pleasing, heart wrenching distraction.” He laughs pulling out his phone to snap a picture of your kiss mark covered face.

“So, I need you to stay in my dressing room for the time being” he says as he posts the picture he took just now on his magicam’s story, “What?? But I came here to watch you work!” You whined, “Yes I know, But I’m never going to finish if I keep looking at you instead of the camera darling…” you opened your mouth to further protest but Vil cuts you off with a quick peck on your lips, leaving you defeated.

“It’s only until I finish potato, and hey you can even play around with the clothes and make up, play dress up while I work” he cooed, sighing you agreed with a nod, “Okay…I’ll wait for you in there…” he smiled and kissed your forehead again, you wanted to kiss him too but in fear of ruining his make up last minute, you just kissed his hand and mouthed a little goodluck before he walked back infront of the camera.

You entered his dressing room, deep down you knew it would be huge and grand, but NOT THIS HUGE AND GRAND, the rotating shoe wrack was something you thought you could only see in movies, not just that, bags, jewelry, fancy tops, clothes, even dresses?? Your boyfriend’s closet could put every mall out of business…”he’s right…I can play dress up here…” and so you did. (Right after you took off the kiss marks ofc)

Hours passed like seconds as you indulged in the variety of options you had in there, a particular piece did caught your eye though, you remembered Vil wearing it on one of his many many events, he looked so beautiful in it, it made you wonder if you could look as pretty in it as he was.

You put it on very carefully not wanting to damage it in anyway, it was a little big on you, but it didn’t look bad, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the outfit looked stunning, it felt so nice but you laughed thinking you didn’t suit it. “It’s pretty, but I think Vil wore it a lot better, I don’t do this outfit any justice at all” you said aloud, talking to yourself while you look down at the clothing.

“Now that’s just preposterous…you look amazing in it, it should be honored to be worn by you.” Vil’s voice suddenly came from behind you, you shot up and met his gaze in the mirror as he walked behind you. “Vil! Y-You’re done? Wow time went by that quick! I didn’t hear you come in…” you stammered, face heating up from embarrassment as he hummed in response and hugged you from behind.

“I was just about to..take it off…” you fiddled with your hands, “Why?” He asked, voice vibrating through you due to how close he is, “Well…it’s your clothes…aren’t you mad?” You asked him, “Why would I be mad? I’m the one who told you to play dress up…” he chuckled “Plus I had the privilege to see you look so lovely wearing my clothes….” He added turning you to face him.

“Oh please…” you laughed at his compliments, “No wait, I am mad about one thing…” the color drained from you as you looked up at him in fear, “the audacity…” he started, “You wiped off my kiss marks? How dare you!” He jokingly exclaimed, you looked at him deadpanned. “Well I couldn’t look pretty with kiss marks all over my face!” You said

“Hm…funny, My magicam’s story reactions said otherwise” he showed you, the picture he took earlier posted on his magicam’s story, “You posted it?!” You face once again grew tinted looking at all the views and reactions on his post. “I had to share the object of my affection to the world so they can adore you as much” he proclaimed. You turned your back to him, making a bee line to the small changing room with an upset face.

Once you came out, you were once again smothered in affection, “Will you take my love as an apology gift?” He asked, “Treat me for dinner and I just might take you up on that offer…” you negotiated, “fine, I get to pick the restaurant though…” he says “Mmkay, lets go I’m starving..” you held his hand as you both walk out of the dressing room.

Don’t worry, after that, Vil will surely take you back there to play dress up, this time with him present.

Malleus Draconia

“I wonder if he’s feeling better?” You asked yourself as you were waiting for Lilia outside the dormitory of diasomnia, your fae prince has recently caught a cold, normally Lilia would’ve been able to take care of Malleus himself like he always does, however since a certain someone (you) came along…Malleus always looks for you to come take care of him.

“Oh thank the 7 from above you came…” Lilia said his dorm uniform ragged and his hair a mess, “oh god what happened?? Are you okay???” You frantically asked, walking inside the dormitory, there you were met with large thorns engulfing the furniture, crawling up on the walls and some were even fighting the students.

“What the hell is going on???” You panicked, “It’s simple really, your boyfriend is getting crankier by the minute and if he doesn’t see you he’ll tear this dormitory apart brick by brick” Lilia started pushing you up the staircase to go to Malleus’s room in a hurry, Infront of Malleus’s door stood Silver and Sebek, you cant tell if they’re relieved to see you or scared for your well being…

“Welp! in you go, stay safe!” Lilia shoves you inside and locks the door behind you. Everything went by so fast you barely had processed it, suddenly a low grumbling noise interrupted your train of thought. “Oh shit…” you whispered, whilst gripping on to the basket filled with stuff you bought for sick tsunotaro.

You gulped before taking another step, when you did though, he seemed to sense it sending you another low growl, his back was turned so he couldn’t see who you were. Slowly you crept up closer behind him, you reached out to rub his back for him to know it’s you “Hey Mal—“ before you could even begin to, thorns flew out of nowhere grabbing your arm.

Good thing you were quick enough to dodge it, only sacrificing the cloth of your sleeve and a few scratches from the thorns. “Ah…” you winced and hissed at the little wounds in your arm. Malleus turned to you angrily, as he didn’t know it was his lover…the moment he found out though. His expression changed into an apologetic one.

The truth of it all was that he’d been waiting for you the whole day, but since you had classes and other stuff he had to bare being sick without you beside him. He quick but gently embraced you, pulling you into his arms burying himself in your hair and his tail coiling around your leg wanting to have more of your warmth. There you felt how cold he was… before you could ask him if he was okay, once again you were interrupted.

“I’m sorry my love, I didn’t know it was you…usually I’d be able to feel you when you’re near but I’m afraid this cold is getting the best of me… I’m really sorry” he apologizes, voice coarse and tired. You managed you wriggle out his arms a little, and you grabbed the basket you accidentally dropped on the floor, you took out the soup you made that was in a small container, thankful it didn’t spill.

You gently pulled away from the hug and cupped his face in your warm hands, “It’s okay…you don’t have to apologize, I understand, I get cranky on my sick days too…” you smiled up at him taking your hand off his face to open the container. “Here, I made it for you, it’ll help you get warmer so you’ll feel better…” you held a spoon up to his mouth and he obediently eats the food you’ve prepared for him.

You stopped after he finished half of it as you didn’t want him to throw up later, you were packing it away when he saw your torn up clothing, He stood up carefully and rummaged through his drawers for a nightshirt he could lend you, the least thing he wants for you right now is to get cold aswell. “Malleus what are you looking for? Get back in bed, I’ll look for it” you stood beside him telling him to rest.

Just then he pulled out one of his nightshirts and gave it to you, “Wear it, you’ll get cold” he said and coughed right after. Your heart softened “Hey…I’m supposed to be the one caring for you…dont do my job” you jokingly scolded as you helped him back to bed. He looked up at you as you put a blanket over him as if begging you to change. Part of him really was concerned that you’d get cold but a part of him just wants to see you in his clothes, to have his scent engulfed in yours. You sighed “Okay…I’ll go change and I’ll be right back” you gave in, kissing his forehead

His nightshirt was way bigger than your size, given that this man is literally 202cm. You went out expecting Malleus to be asleep but instead he was sitting up and looking right your direction, his face shocked, lovestruck, and at the same time tired…. “Malleus…I told you to get some rest” you hands fell your hips as you walked towards him. He pulled you in with his tail, once again wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your hair and his tail coiling around your leg.

“I cant rest without you beside me…” he mumbled quietly, purring softly, taking in your warmth, you looked up at him smiling, you felt as if you were melting in his arms, you leveled your face with his, inching closer, he closed his eyes expecting a kiss on his lips, but was disappointed when you only kissed his nose…you laughed at his unsatisfied expression.

“My prince, I can’t kiss you there even if I wanted to, I have to take care of you, not get us both sick” you said, touching your forehead with his. He understands but he just really craves for your affection right now, grumbling once again, you were forced to lay him on your chest and shower him with kisses, (except for his lips). Now being satisfied he resumes his purring and cuddled closer to you.

“Wear my clothes more often…” he says, “hm? Why?” You asked, caressing his horns, “You’ll have my scent mixed with yours…that way they’ll know your my beloved…” he says before drifting on to sleep as you felt you get warmer, not even knowing that the reason why, is because of what he said. You didn’t disagree though, you loved wearing his clothes aswell, it makes you feel safe. Slowly your eyelids also grew heavier and the both of you slept in each other’s comfort.

———————————————————

A/N: Hi there, yes I’m back, I’m here, Ready to write again 🥹🤚🏻 please dont tear my soul in half I swear I’m back for real this time. ANYWAYS YKNOW THE DRILL DIDNT PROOF READ THIS ERRORS ARE BOUND TO SAY HI 💀