#hes my poor meow meow i want to throw him into a fic and make him cry

[iwasntcreativeenoughforaname]

False Bravado

[hwaightme]

Cat named Mars (catboy!hwa hcs)

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

😻 pairing: catboy!seonghwa x gn!reader 😻 genre: headcanons, fluff, crack, demon? to cat? to roommate? to lover? 😻 summary: the longest bulletpoints about what it would be like to have catboy!hwa as your bf - the whole story 😻 wordcount: 4.5k 😻 warnings/tags: editing? who is she, unhinged crack part nyah, catboy!hwa, cute catboy!hwa, soft and polite catboy!hwa- okay i will stop |, language, food/eating, mention of others not treating animals well, sweater paws, mention of adorable nerdy hobbies, domestic, cuddle, a surprise about how hwa ended up being a cat in the first place, both past and present tense used, mainly lowercase 😻 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 😻 a/n: let me drift in the soft and fluffy catboy!hwa lands until waterbomb strikes, for my own healing; my braincells are out of service but i hope you enjoy <3 all reblogs, thoughts and notes appreciated! big hugs!

once upon a time he was a cat

there was never a moment to think about anything except work, and maybe about groceries and bills (but even those things normally hit you at two o'clock in the morning, leading you to check your phone and make make amendments to your schedule in a panicked state). there was never any room for a cat. until there was.

of course there just had to be an adorable kitty, at most maybe a couple of years old, lean and with jet black fur that was surprisingly shiny for an abandoned cat, sitting square in the middle of a cardboard box on the side of the street that formed a part of your regular path and commute to and from work. in the morning, you had locked eyes with the cat, heart bleeding and hurting for the poor creature but secretly hoping that someone else would take it - you couldn't take care of it, could you? in the evening, you were huffing and puffing with the cardboard box in your hands and the cat happily meowing, its tail stretched out upwards into a chimney pipe, slightly tilted to the side at the very end. you read somewhere that it meant the cat was happy, so you were going to take that as a good sign.

sat on the floor at the entrance to your apartment, you eyed the beautiful creature as it kept on purring and trying to hop out of the box and towards you, while you were insistent on keeping it in, lifting a cardboard flap repeatedly in an effort to prevent it from jumping. so. now you had a cat. there was nothing in the box, and on the outside, in horrific scrawl was a message suggesting whoever took the kitty either "kept him, or throw him away, whatever". non-humans. "that's who your previous owners were, right kitty?" you mumbled to no one in particular, but it seemed that the cat picked up on your speech and inched closer to you, ears moving like disks to pick up signals. "so you are a he, yeah?" a meow. so you were right. at least the beasts from this cat's past got one thing right. "do you have a name? actually… you know what do you want a… new name?" you were fast on the attachment scale, you realised. it had been barely a few minutes and you were already trying to name the cat who you had not even checked for diseases, nor had any basic facilities to take care of him. but he was more than excited by the prospect, and mewled in what sounded like gratitude. you began to list off names, eventually boring the kitty, and he started to falter in his enthusiasm. all until one name rang a bell.

"Mars?"

and that was how you ended up with a black cat named Mars.

by the power of actually having to shake paws with a cat, and you promising to get him quality snacks, you managed to get Mars checked at the vet who confirmed everything was fine, and was equally as amazed as you that he was so well groomed and neat. while you knew you did not have much of a right to do this, your inner pride still swelled and, to yourself, you said that 'yes, my Mars is really neat and handsome'.

you took to addressing Mars as 'your handsome boy' and that seemed to wake him up and get him speeding towards you faster than anything else could. also 'the prettiest star' and 'my universe' and 'marvellous Mars' all worked wonders.

at the same time, he was shy, as if he did not want to disturb you with his antics. always tip-toeing around you as silently as a cat could (which was very silent, to the point where he jumpscared you a couple of times but that is okay because excuse me did you see his precious face????) and never taking up much space, even though… hello? Mars? you are a cat?? he would rarely ever hop on any surfaces unless you explicitly told him to do so - this had left you convinced that your cat was well-versed in human-speak. he never meowed for food until you had told him to vocalise and tell you if he was very hungry, and gave him a rundown of his eating schedule and how it was important that he drank water. he was the politest cat you had ever met, while at the same time his timidness made you wonder if you were in any way intimidating. not once did Mars ever enter your bedroom, even though you left the door wide open for him, preferring to crash on the couch or on the floor of some other room. the first couple of times you joked about it saying "are you scared you'll see something, Marsy?" but when your cat actually looked away and hunched over, you were convinced that you hit the nail on the head, and that you were probably either hallucinating or were slowly turning into Doctor Dolittle.

but you were persistent. and insistent. and you took the little blanket with kuromi decor on it from him (yes this was that extreme of a situation) and put it at the edge of your bed. climbing in and covering yourself in the many layers, you looked at the terrified figure hovering at the entrance to the room, boba eyes as wide as saucers. he kept on looking at the blanket, then at you, then again at the blanket, then again at you, probably wondering if he could snatch the thing and make a run for it. you were on the verge of giving up at this point. sleepy, with work tomorrow, you were not about to engage in a whole war with your cat.

"you know what, if you want to stay, you can stay. i promise i will not hurt you, nor will i push you out. if you want to come closer, do. if you just want to take the blanket and leave, you can do that. your choice. i won't be hurt. i promise. you are already super brave and i love you either way. okay, Mars?" he did not respond, frozen in place. "my handsome boy?" his head twisted towards you. "precious?" a blink. another blink. one paw in front of the other. "are you actua- wow! I am so proud of you my baby! my brave boy!" you were cooing praises at him like there was nothing else in the world that existed as soon as he hopped onto the bed, foregoing the blanket and making a beeline towards your face, as though that was his read source of comfort. he was afraid to look away, focusing on your every expression as you patted his head and let him nuzzle into you. "you are so so brave, you know that? i know this is hard, so if at any point you want to leave, you can, okay?" purring louder than a powerdrill was the response you received. along with kitty cuddles through the whole night. because apparently, your cat was a koala all along.

and even in his cuddles he was gentle. you did not think you had ever seen him use his claws… ever. except maybe on a few toys but as soon as you were in sight poof gone, soft Mars activated. he was like your personal heater, careful to wrap himself closer to you not to push you out, but to instead complete whatever curled up position you were lying in. if you were stretched out to the side, he would find a place. if you were in a ball? he would find a place again. if you were lying down straight for whatever reason? give him a couple of nights to get comfortable, and now you had the ultimate cat comforter either on you, or around your head. and yes, you were blessed with a cat who barely shed, somehow. some of your friends who had cats almost cursed you when they found out, but you only smiled, looking at your lockscreen. nowadays, even during the workday you were thinking of Mars at least a little bit.

maybe you were spoiling him a little bit, but it was too adorable to see him watching you play legend of zelda or animal crossing on your nintendo switch. and when he saw that you got a gift from a friend in the form of a lego set? well. you were literally afraid to open the box because of how hyper your cat got - perhaps not today…

you fell into the most pleasant routines with Mars, from waking up and going to bed together, to eating breakfast and then 'parting ways' for you to attend to human business and him to his 'cat business'. it was cute. it made your head sing. you were happier than you had ever been. all thanks to that one random day. one random box. and one black haired kitty who radiated sunshine.

it was the eve of the one year anniversary of you being the proud owner of, or how you preferred to say it, the best friend of 'L/n Mars', and you were as sure as his ears were pointy in wanting to go all out with your celebration - minus the guests (because the last time you had invited a male friend of yours over your cat turned into a whole other creature and then sulked for at least three days until you took a day off work and called it 'Mars day', but you just assumed it was some territorial thing). you had set up little themed decorations, found a cute little headband with the number '1' that is suitable and safe for a cat and would not hurt his head, got a matching, human-sized one for yourself, made a whole dinner for your favourite kitty from scratch - the ingredients all checked with the vet who you now casually called by first name because you did not dare ever give Mars anything that might harm him and would rather panic call the doctor.

you were sat at the coffee table, so that it would be easier for Mars to reach the food (you set pillows on the floor for extra comfort, for which he thanked you with a loud meow), and had your respective mini-cakes set out in front of either of you. you had given up on making him ever eat kitty food - another peculiar quirk of your cat, so the 'cake', which was more a protein gift than anything, was fully home made. but Mars was happy. more than happy. if cats could smile, that was exactly what he was doing, right at you, squinting his eyes, threatening to hop over the table. you told him to wait, and quietly whispered your gratitude to him. much to your delight, he waited and listened, clinging onto every word.

"you know, i really think you are an angel. before you i was quite… how do i say this… life was just passing by. and now i look forward to it. and to be able to see you every day, to have fun days with you, to talk with you… all of that brings me so much joy and i hope that i can make you at least a little bit happy too. i wish you could tell me what you want, of course, but i really do think you know what i am thinking, what i am saying. and i hope that i am right in saying that i can understand you a bit too. you really are the smartest, most precious Mars. light of my life. i love you so much, my gorgeous, and here is to many years more, cheers~" you clinked your glass with orange juice with his water bowl, and giggled when he took a couple of neat laps to match with your gulps, only to lick his lips and hop off the pillows and go under the table.

in a matter of seconds, he reappeared at your side of the table, and poked at your lap with his paw, looking up at you with his bead-like eyes that seemed to contain the whole universe in them. you pat him between his ears, scratched under his chin, delighting him, and then stretched out your legs, gesturing towards your legs to signify that lap-napping season was open. Mars did not need to be told twice, and soon enough you had a black cat curled up on your lap, purring away, mewling a couple of times when you started eating to remind you that he was hungry too.

"so you want me to feed you now, too? aren't you cheeky-"

as if you could refuse him. you would be lying if you said you could. so there you were, on the floor and feeding Mars, quiet music playing from your phone, not quite sure if you could be any happier.

"i love you."

quite the contrast to what happened the next morning.

suddenly he is a catboy

when you wake up, Mars is nowhere in sight, and even when you call him, to which he would reply with at least a meow, you are only met with silence. you are alarmed, but wait in bed for just a little longer to see if Mars would come to you. nothing. you call again, 'pspspsps' him, all to no avail. only the breeze and the birds outside, along with inexplicable rustling from another room in your apartment. you raise an eyebrow and prop yourself up on your elbows. more rustling. a door opening, which sounds like the closet where you kept your warmer clothes. what is going on? another door closing. footsteps? you are on high alert. grabbing your phone and the light saber model which you had made a while back and kept safe by your bed, as it turned out exactly for this kind of moment, you head out to face whatever, or whoever is the source of the sound.

you are stealth itself, rounding the corner with weapon in hand, ready to face the attacker - or so you thought. until you come face to face with the tall, young man dressed head to toe in your clothing, namely a tracksuit that you had accidentally gotten in the wrong size and then somehow ended up being refunded for without returning the item, and a beanie that he had pulled over his head. spikes of jet black hair are poking from under the hat in all directions, and his deep brown eyes are widened in shock as he freezes on the spot and stares back at you.

"so, what the hell are you doing in my clothes?"

"y/n- i-"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?"

"i can explain-"

"nope do NOT get closer what-"

"Mars…. i…. it's me… your uh… cat."

"what?"

he looks embarrassed beyond belief, and crumbles to the floor, sliding until his back is against the wardrobe. wrapping his arms around his knees, he is scared to look up at you, worried that you would never recognise him, never accept him. this is exactly what he has been dreading all this time, and was heartbroken when the curse was finally broken, despite him technically being free now. he does not want to be away from you. this is his home. you are his home. you are the one who showed him true love.

"if it is okay… may i take this beanie off for a second?"

"i didn't even let you put it on in the first place," he winces. you feel a little bad, but hold your ground. his eyes sparkle in a way that is a little too familiar, reminding you of a certain someone. the cat who he mentioned. your precious cat. Mars.

"okay… here goes…" he slides the material off, making you gasp. hidden under the beanie is a pair of cat ears, fluffy, the same colour as his hair, and twitching as he adjusts after having flattened them to minimise their visibility.

"yo what."

"i have… a tail too."

"WHAT?"

he is not joking. a black tail to go with the black ears, sliding out from under the oversized hoodie. you are not sure what happened next, but you wake up on the sofa with the man, who you are now guessing is some human cat hybrid version of Mars fanning you with a magazine.

"I AM SORRY, Y/N PLEASE WAKE UP I AM SO- oh you are awake thank goodness i missed you i am really so sorry…" he drops the magazine almost instantly, leaning towards you and wrapping you in a warm embrace, much to your surprise. you yelp, but the softness, as well as his ears moving in the cutest way while he hugs you make you accept the gesture, and return it.

you never thought you would hear a grown man purr exactly like a cat, but here you are. well, you never thought you would have a catboy in your apartment either, but this is already happening so...

"so, Mars?"

"yeah?"

"you have some explaining to do."

after what turned out to be at least two hours of you and him going back and forth about what had unfolded and what was the history of the young catboy's state, you find out that, in reality, his name is Park Seonghwa, and that he is a demon, of all things. that is right, a demon. set out to curse and haunt and spread sin. but no, he is cast out of hell because he is too kind and soft. and so he had been cursed to be a cat, until for a full year, someone could give him their whole heart, their full love. while he explains this to you with a fondness unlike anything you had ever seen before in your life (except in what you perceived from cat Mars's eyes), you begin to blush, realising that all this time, you were talking to and confessing to him. Seonghwa. this handsome man who was always by your side and-

oh. and he was sleeping in the same bed as you. just great. you flush an even deeper shade and cover your face. and he had been jealous, not territorial, when your friend had come over.

"are you okay?"

"so okay."

"hug?"

"i, uh-"

"you give really good hugs."

"Park Seonghwa do you really want to make me suffer?"

"I AM SO SORRY ARE YOU HURT? DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG I AM SO SORRY?!"

"no you are too cute. come here"

catboy!hwa headcanons

is initially cautious because well… you got used to him being a cat and now suddenly you have a whole man with cat ears and a tail walking around your house. he catches on to the fact that you are kind of shy around him too, but he does not push it, at least not straight away.

because that would mean that he has to get over his own shyness towards you extra quickly, and that proves to be difficult when it hits him that, well, he is now a person too, and you are a person, and he fell in love with you, and you told him you loved him before - on occasion he just walks around blushing with his ears pressed flat to his head but don't point it out he is already struggling ;~;

you might have to be the one to initiate the contact again because he is literally too scared to overstep anything and everything - even when you bought him his own first few sets of clothes as a 'human edition anniversary gift'. you approach him to give him a hug and he groups up as if he is about to dive into a pool, hands to his chest, eyes wide. but is he moving anywhere? no. does his purring give him away? yes. after that the two of you gently reintroduce physical touch and it makes you realise just how much you miss Mars, particularly because Seonghwa is still a little distant for understandable reasons. But you both are trying your best.

if you massage his head and scratch behind his hears he will melt - his favourite thing in the world is having his head rest on your lap with his eyes closed while you ruffle his hair really slowly and run your fingers through it.

desperately misses the times when you would call him handsome and pretty and smart, and every single affectionate word in the universe so he tries his damn hardest to get you to do that again, first by trying to be nice and helping you around the house, and when the results are not to his satisfaction and when cuddle sessions are pretty much the norm, but words of affection aren't… he pouts and openly asks you why you don't call him that anymore. you squeak the words out but the reaction makes every next attempt easier than anything.

he is scared to approach your room again, though, and this time you say nothing because well, this is a whole other territory. a couple of months pass before you consider and that is because you find him sleeping on the floor a couple of times, curled up with is tail covering his face a little, and he said it was because "he is scared otherwise and here is safe". so you take out a futon for now, but he is more than happy with this progress.

he learns how to cook both from you and from tutorials online, and then starts remembering what he used to cook a long time before - you basically stop cooking altogether because now he is insistent on waking you up with breakfast, packing you lunch and greeting you with dinner. he sometimes gets a bit too experimental, but you do not mind it too much because at least he cleans everything up.

you think you can ignore the lego in the corner of your living room? no :) it is a date now. a lego building date. for four hours straight. on the floor. him running this ship like you run your team at work. and his focus, his professional approach to the matter is a little too attractive, you admit to yourself. and somewhere along the way that translates into you planting a kiss on Hwa's cheek. this is the only time over the whole four hours that he drops the pieces he is holding in his hands, gazing at you, not quite sure if what he felt just now was real or not.

but nope, judging by your attempts to avoid his gaze this was very real. so he gets real bold real quick and guess who finds themselves trapped by two tones arms on either side of you, back on the floor, a curious and mischievous face a mere inch away? that's right, you. wants to build a starship, accidentally builds a relationship along with it - a major win.

there isn't ever a platonic stage really. an extensive awkward stage? sure. a roommates-maybe stage? sure. two people who like each other? sure. and now, after many months of you settling into a new routine, two people who love each other and keep telling each other that.

he finds a job that he can do remotely, and in this way remains mainly at home and around the neighbourhood with his beloved hobbies and balancing you out. in this way he now starts to sneak support to pay bills and to buy you little gifts (as a little apology for taking your clothes sometimes - read often)

it is not Hwa's fault that he misses you very quickly. it just happens. then one thing leads to another and he is lying on your shared bed hugging a hoodie of yours. eventually that leads to him dragging a couple more items out of your wardrobe and making a little nest out of them - only then does his worry go down and he goes for a nap while curled up in a ball.

when he knows that you should be arriving soon he starts walking up to the window, then away then back to the window, and away again. cycle repeats itself until he can spot you from a distance, and then he just stays by the window.

he helps you redecorate and rearrange your apartment, considering that you now have a 5'10'' human cat instead of one you can hold with two hands, and shocks you with just how many details he remembers about you, down to allergies, what colours irritate you when it comes to interiors, what plants you had to give away to keep him 'in cat form' safe - even though yes, he would not eat them, but how were you to know that?

he remembers all your special days, and hopes you remember his, too. thankfully, he knows his own birthday and using cat mathematics, converted from demon to cat to human. and so, now you can celebrate him wholeheartedly, only this time that also involves you taking him to go have a picnic under the cherry blossoms.

you and Seonghwa go to pick out and buy him a phone together, and you spend a whole day teaching him how to use it. soon enough your own phone goes off with notifications from him. he sends you fun things throughout the day and if he is busy, he sends you a selfie or a heartfelt message.

likes to curl up and read poetry with you. doesn't matter if out loud of in silence. what matters to him is that you are close. and good luck trying to get away - he has a tail and it is wrapped around your leg like an alert system so that he can tackle you right back to the couch or the bed. because it is you and Seonghwa time.

occasionally sings you lullabies that he either overheard somewhere or remembers, breaking into a smile when you wriggle closer to him and fall asleep, stress melting away from your every feature.

overall you are now living with a catboy Hwa cast out of hell for being too nice, who also turned out to be a big nerd, with heart eyes for you, sweater paws instead of actual paws, the occasional feline habits still coming through (like him rubbing his face against your shoulder, or your own face, or him hissing when frustrated or threatened, or him having the widest stretch in the morning, or… actually he is still part cat so, you have to deal with it), and all the love to give. thankfully not in the form of something he hunted. he buys birds at a store now. meant to be cooked. human-friendly.

he brings you a limited edition starship instead. if you display it he will look at you like he is falling in love with you all over again - if that is even possible because that would mean stopping loving you now, and that is the one thing he cannot do <3

😻 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @pocketjoong-reads @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnmepls @pyeonghongrie-main @archivesummer @little-angel-k @marsstarxhwa

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a kind reblog, much love!

[vulnonapixes-dc-corner]

Remember when I told you all about the "Damian & Tim bonding fic, where Damian gets turned into a cat?"?

Well, I do.

I have two wips! One for a fic and the other is a small art sketch

"It's OK! You are OK! With me, you are safe!"

Tim hummed, as he gently rubbed the little fluff ball dry, making sure to clean its eyes and ears out in the process.

He had found it in a trashcan on patrol, all alone, shivering and seemingly abandoned.

The teen couldn't get himself to leave it there.

After all, he wasn't that cruel, and Damian would probably break his back again if he found out that he let an innocent animal die.

It meowed weakly, as he used two of his fingers to gently massage its stomach. He couldn't feel any swellings and injuries, so it should be fine. Hopefully.

"Hey, it's alright! We'll get some food into you and then you'll feel better."

The kitten looked too young to stomach solid food, so milk was it.

He knew that cowmilk was bad for cats, but almond milk should be fine, at least till he could get some special cat milk and wet food to ween the little one out.

After making sure that it was warm and comfortable on his couch, he made his way to his kitchen.

The search for some almond milk and a saucer to fill it in took him some minutes and when he returned to his living room, the cat was gone.

Gone was probably a harsh word, considering that he could hear some really pissed off growls from beneath his bookshelf.

It was quite impressive, considering that the animal making those sounds was barley bigger than his hand.

"Poor little baby, this situation must be quite scary for you."

He pushed the makeshift bowl next to the furniture, avoiding the sweep of tiny claws, before he all but collapsed on his couch.

Then he quietly cursed himself.

In the trouble of making sure that the kitty was alright, he had utterly forgotten about his own needs.

"I am such an idiot."

The vigilante forced himself back on his feet, as he glared at the couch.

Who knows what kind of toxins and germs he had gotten onto it now.

"You know, this totally ruins my whole week. I usually deepclean my furniture every Monday. But with all the blood and shit on my suit this can't wait."

He smiled gently towards the kittens direction, who had stopped growing when he started speaking.

"I will take a short shower, before cleaning the couch and taking my meds. Please try to drink a bit of the milk, alright?"

The teen was aware that the cat couldn't understand or answer him, but he wanted it to get comfortable with his voice

Soaking his suit in disinfectant, showering, checking his body for small injuries, going through his skincare routine, throwing his suit into the washing machine, getting a clean suit ready for the next patrol and starting up his textile-deep-cleaning routine took him nearly an hour.

It left him utterly exhausted and wanting to sleep.

But he still had to finish the cleaning, drink that disgusting, nutrien rich smoothie, take his meds and work on that case Duke asked him about.

His eyes wandered to the kittens hiding place and a smile appeared on his lips as he looked at the empty saucer.

"Good work! Eat a lot and grow stronger. "

The tiny head of the kitten popped out and Tim had to stifle his laughter at the animals unimpressed expression.

"Oh, Damian will absolutely adore you."

It meowed as Tim concentrated back on cleaning the couch.

"He is my little brother and he adores animals. I am planning to give you to him when the weekend comes around."

This was the safest course of actions for him and the one thing will guarantee a happy life for it.

The kittens eyes were watching him clean the couch, as he explained every step to it.

" Now we are just going to let the disinfectant soak in and let it dry. I'll take my medicine and then we'll try to get some more food into you! "

It actually came out of its hiding place when he brought out his yellow pill bottle.

Somehow, it looked as if he had offended it, as it meowed loudly at him to get his attention.

"This is just the medicine that I spoke about. I am sick, you know. A year ago, I lost my spleen due to an injury. I had a flare up a few days ago, since Steph decided to drop in unannounced. Its fine now though."

Steph had been hurt and he was the closest, so he was glad that she came to him instead of bleeding out somewhere.

But the fever he got afterwards was not so nice.

The kitty meowed, as it clawed at his leg, what was suprisingly painful.

"Whats the matter?! This hurts, you know?"

Tim picked the small animal up, as it growled angrily at him.

"You know. You kinda remind me of my little brother right now."

It had the same green eyes as him.

"You are even behaving like him right now!"

He smiled as it spitted in his direction, Biting and clawing at his hand.

Getting the hint, he gently placed it back onto the ground, where it quickly went back to his hiding place.

Tim couldn't help himself as he sighted, as he saw the blood running down his hand.

He needed to disinfect and bandage ut up as quickly as possible now.

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"Jason, calm down-, i cant understand what you are saying if you scream like this!"

Damian glared at the teen from bellow his hiding spot, as he placed back and forth in his living room, his elder brothers voice screaming through the speaker of the phone.

It was pathetic.

No Vigilante, especially one that studied under his father, should allow someone to yell at them.

[whereistheonepiece]

Okay, time to talk about my One Piece ships and why I ship them while I wait on my laundry.

Not in any particular order.

Zosan- The Zosan seed sprouted in Arlong Park. Zoro grinned when he saw Sanji kick someone through the wall. Then that Chopper King of Beasts movie happened and they hyped each other up behind each other's backs and I was like, "Boyfriends!" I also like argumentative assholes who respect each other and become soft for each other.

Lawbin- Started as a whim. Started out as a stray thought that often happens when I like two characters I also happen to think are hot. But then an anon saw my stray musings and was like "Yes, join us!" And then I entered ship hell because I became obsessed with them and had no one to talk to about them. And the ideas were a little sad. And then I wrote a fic to figure out how they might work out in canon and I was like "God, these two make so much sense."

Buggyshanks (I don't like their official ship name sry)- One specific piece of fanart and they clicked in my head.

Usolu- They were a side pairing in a Zosan fanfic. It just made sense.

Usona- Same as Usolu.

Lusona (Luffy/Usopp/Nami)- Usopp has two hands.

Chakapell- I liked their dynamic. I liked coming up with headcanons for what their romance would look like. They're mature adults (not mature as in a euphemism for old, but mature as in fully mentally and emotionally developed) and sometimes one wants a mature romance.

Frobin- Everyone ships Frobin. I think I saw fanart and was like, "Well, yes." So they weren't a ship that jumped out at me while watching Enies Lobby, but some of my fav ships didn't jump out at me immediately.

Namivivi- They're cute. Why else does anyone else ship them?

Cavenlaw- Cavendish was very gallant with Law when Law was in need. I like seeing someone be so princely with our emo prince.

Cavenlawbin- Law has two hands. Robin has more than two hands. Robin can clone herself, actually. I'm just really attracted to these three characters and already ship 2/3 dynamics of it. Actually Cavendish/Robin is lurking in the back of my mind. Waiting to get me.

Other dynamics I like but I'm not unwell for or just really emotionally invested in:

Buggy/Galdino- They are friends with benefits.

Buggy/Alvida- Dumb man + mean lady who isn't as smart as she thinks she is. Failcouple energy. I think it was a fic that fully converted me.

Hanvida (Hancock/Alvida)- Good art. Good fics. Disappointed there isn't more fic.

Smohina (Smoker/Hina)- Smoker is a gruff, no-nonsense man who lets her call him "Smoker-kun." They have history. They're hot. Yes.

Viola/Robin aka Violin- Sexy. Hell, let's throw Law in there.

Buggycule aka Cross Guild + Shanks- Centered around Buggy. CG is funny but I like the idea of two hardened assholes like Croc and Mihawk catching feelings for the poor little meow meow that is Buggy. Plus Shanks has to be there. Buggy and his three weed smoking girlfriends.

Corabug- Cute fanart. Cora-san would be good for Buggy.

I think that covers it. You'll also see me reblog ships that didn't make it on here because I like nice fanart.

[yeetus-skeetus]

my poor boy Voice Of The Broken

alright I know a lot of the fandom (rightfully) hates Broken. If you resist The Tower, he tries to make you kill yourself multiple times. And is also just generally whiny during Tower -> Fury. Me personally, i find his whining entertaining, but I see why most people don't.

Anyway, I think my poor little meow meow has GREAT fic potential, especially a crossover with some other media that has a god-like being he can throw himself at. Like, can you imagine Broken thirsting over the Radiance from Hollow Knight?? He has a line somewhere about 'basking in Her Radiance' which immediately made me want to write a fic about it, but I think any other powerful being with enough charisma could get him to simp.

This becomes even more interesting if all the Voices get their own bodies. Stopping Broken from doing something stupid ends up a lot harder when you can't just out-will him for control over the shared body. And then... the Voices get to FIGHT. So much symbolism about inner turmoil and what not when the pieces of the Long Quiet start physically duking it out!! Sure, if all the other voices were there when they have to save Broken from himself, then maybe it wouldn't be too hard.

But what if they weren't? Say a big verbal fight happens, maybe a bit violent, and they all go their separate ways to cool off. And that's when Broken ends up getting grabbed up by an aspiring cult leader or something, and now you have a whole plot about saving yourself from yourself.

[fexalted]

pwease vibecheck crowley and ford in character bingo? XP

thank you for indulging me with two of my most special boys

crowley:

my special little meow meow. my every waking thought. my dearest blorbo

if i met them irl i would beat them up (affectionate)

a pathetic wet cat of a man

*gently holds*

[keysmash]

they have done nothing wrong, ever, in their life

not to be a homosexual but Jesus fucking Christ. oh. my go d. holy shjt

will somebody give them a fucking hug jesus christ

they could pour soup in my lap and i'd apologize to them

i want to kiss their poor little head

my dear beloved blorbo 😭❤️ i'm obsessed with him, i want to study him under a microscope and inside a microwave and steal his hair and wardrobe and gender. i feel a compulsive need to make fun of him at every opportunity to cover for the fact that i've once again become a tennant simp in the year 2022 (this wasn't suPPOSED TO HAPPEN--)

ford:

my special little meow meow. my every waking thought. my dearest blorbo

im the only one that knows anything about them, actually. everyone else is wrong sorry

a pathetic wet cat of a man

*gently holds*

[keysmash]

they have done nothing wrong, ever, in their life

Autism™️

will somebody give them a fucking hug jesus christ

i want to kiss their poor little head

AW YE WE GOT A BINGO!!! only the best for the ultimate blorbo 👏 he lives in my heart rent free. i have so many thoughts about him and not a single one is coherent. someday i'll finish my big fic where i throw him in a blender and then put all the pieces back together

character bingo

[jaminjims]

「BRAIN GO BRR」

anon request: Heyyy! Could I request for an imagine for prompt 83? An ot7 platonic bts 8th reader crack / fluff? Like they’re playing around and it gets a wee bit competitive? 😅

prompt: “if you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers.”

pairing: platonic!bts ot7 x gender neutral!reader

genre: crack >:), fluff

warnings: strong language?? should that be a warning?

words: 1.3k

~**~

You looked seriously into Taehyung’s eyes, determined that you would get it right no matter what he did. The stakes were high as your team was only one point away from winning.

Tae meowed.

“Monkey!”

There was a brief pause before several different things happened at once.

“Monkey?! I meow and the first animal you think of is monkey, oh my god. Can I hit you?” Taehyung looked at Jin for permission, “Can I hit Y/n?”

“Yah! I can’t help it if you sound like a monkey all the time; you never evolved past caveman! That’s natural selection Tae! Aish, why couldn’t you just evolve past caveman brain.” You whined and messed with your hair in frustration. Jimin and Jungkook looked on in despair as now the Hyung team was a point closer to winning the game and now the two teams were tied. Hoseok and Jin did all they could not to pass out from laughter while Yoongi just nodded to your exclamation like it was universal knowledge that most people, indeed, did not evolve past caveman brain. Namjoon looked like he would like to end his suffering and was contemplating if it was too late to resign as leader. He should let Yeontan take up the mantle. Or maybe get a lizard. Lizards are patient and wise, right?

Ah yes, the elegance that was animal association; where you make an animal noise and if your partner gets it right then the team gets a point. If your partner gets it wrong, then the other team gets the point. Simple really.

Well, unless it came to you, apparently. There was really a 50/50 chance with you.

It was your birthday and you were all gathered in the dorm living room, having a mini party to celebrate while v-living the event. It seemed like the mass lack of IQ you had spread and lowered the general intelligence of everyone in your vicinity though, as Taehyung exclaimed;

“You never evolved past tadpole brain!” He pointed back at you and you had half a mind to bite his finger.

Before you could act on your biting instincts, Jimin laid a hand on your shoulder with a grim expression on his face. “Even I knew it was a cat, Y/n-ah.”

There was obviously something missing in their brain functions because no, that was definitely a monkey. You lunged for the phone to consult ARMY in the decision but Namjoon had enough sense to pull it away from you before you did something rash. Coincidently, you tripped trying to get up to get it back from the leader, and he just looked down at you with something akin to utter misery for this game in his eyes. Or maybe it was war flashbacks. Probably war flashbacks.

Hoseok couldn’t help it; he was basically wheezing he was laughing so hard and Jin went to help you up, though, he was laughing too and almost fell on you in the process. Yoongi was trying his best not to laugh but he kinda looked like the embodiment of the 👁👄👁 face to you.

“Hey! We can still win this, team! They can still get the next one wrong!” Jungkook exclaimed with determination in his eyes. Jimin nodded along with him as you four sat off to the side and the four eldest got together. It was Jin and Yoongi’s turn and Jin thought of an animal that they haven’t done yet.

He hissed.

There was a tense few seconds before Yoongi, quite confidently, replied with “Hedgehog.”

Jin’s eyes widened as he smiled, that caused Hoseok to whoop in victory because if Jin was acting like that then Yoongi had obviously gotten it right. “Aish, you’re so smart.” Jin complimented. Yoongi smiled and looked at the younger ones with smug victory in his eyes. Namjoon sighed like the long suffering parent he was.

It only goes downhill from here.

Your poor brain struggled to make sense of it. “Hedgehog?! What the fuck?! Do hedgehog’s even hiss!?”

This time Hoseok, Jin, and Yoongi started laughing and celebrating their victory while your other three team members looked at you.

You met Jungkook’s cold stare first, “I am going to defenestrate you.” Then they all lunged at you. You yelled and bolted up, grabbing one of those sticky, stretching rubber hand things you can throw at walls to get them to stick there. (if you know, you know) You had insisted you have them as party favors.

You ran around the couch so there was something between you and the other three maknaes. “But we live on the fourth floor!”

“Exactly!” Jimin added, “Maybe if you hit your head hard enough you can gain some brain function back!” Tae continued.

They ran around one way as you ran around the other. You used your sticky hand to hit them in the face when you could while the Hyung line stood a respectful distance away from the chaos and got it on camera.

“Pause!” You yelled and you all froze. You pointed at them while they pointed back at you. Hoseok started laughing again because it reminded him of the one cartoon spider-man meme.

You smirked at them, “If you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers!” Then you bolted away and the poor hyungs didn’t realize you were running to them before it was too late. You hid behind Namjoon as Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae came at you.

You growled and barked at them like the rapid animal you were and it spoked Namjoon enough to almost drop the phone (that was still running the v-live, by the way).

“Did you just bark?” Yoongi said in disbelief while Hobi and Jin also had a look of confusion mixed with concern mixed with slight horror directed at you. Namjoon quickly moved out of the way so he didn’t contract whatever brain cell eating illness you had. You moved to get behind him again before the other young ones could get to you.

He would would have poked you back with a stick if he had one, “Back! Stay back I say!”

You paled when you realized that you had no cover and bolted down the hallway, Jimin hot on your feet and the other two not to far behind.

The hyung’s followed to wherever you were going to make sure everyone made it out somewhat still intact.

You ran into your room and only paused momentarily when you saw that, huh, when did you open the window?, before regaining your senses and dodgeing the three others as they came barreling into the room.

So, the scene looked like this. You on one side, closest to your closet and desk, while Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were across from you, backs facing the weirdly opened window. The four oldest were watching on with non concealed laughter and amusement (well three of them were, Namjoon looked a little bit like he wanted a nap.)

With nothing between you and your attackers, you did the last thing you could do; which was throw the sticky green hand at them.

You missed and you all watched as it went falling out the window.

There was a few seconds of nothing before you all jumped at the sound of Hoseok’s phone. He looked at it and then back at the other members.

“It’s Sejin Hyung.” He answered the call and put it on speaker.

“Hoseok-ah, would you like to explain the sticky, green, ... hand thing that just flew out your dorm window and into Y/n’s cake?” That was Bang PD’s voice. Which only meant one thing; their boss was with their manager and they had just witnessed you throwing something out the window and landing in your cake.

Wait, it landed in your cake?!

“Wah! It landed in my cake?!” You whined in misery as Hoseok couldn’t help the incredulous giggle that escaped him. It was quiet on both sides before you heard your manager laugh from the other line.

After that it was a domino effect and you all started laughing, even Bang PD himself. While laughing you still couldn’t help the little whines that escaped you.

“But what about my cake??”

[end]

~**~

end note: PLEASE, i live for crack fics you guys. along with writing angst (which i seem to write the most, for whatever reason) crack is one of my favorite things to write. i feel like i get to really just let my already deteriorating mental stability go and write whatever comes to mind with prompts like these so i had sooo much fun! thank you so so so much for the request anonie! i loved it so much and i hope you like it as much as i did 💜

masterlist

request something!

taglist: @boba-tea1206

[duckmumbo]

is. does evil xisuma count as a hermit? b/c if so i'd love to here your thoughts on him <3

You know what anon I am making the executive decision that he does in fact count as a hermit

First impression - the first I ever saw of him was in a s8 hermitcraft recap and I was like “there’s an evil version of one of the hermits? that’s kinda cool. Anyways.” so I apparently was not that interested I guess cjkdhsj

Impression now - he’s my poor little meow meow. He’s committed so many war crimes but he’s my special little boy so it’s ok. Cryptocurrency (derogatory). I could fix him (platonically) but whatever’s wrong with him is so much funnier. I want to throw him off a roof I want to make him dinner (platonic) I want to trap him in a snow globe and shake it. I bet if he got electrocuted you would see his skeleton like in cartoons. He is a wet towel.

Favorite moment - in a hilarious contrast to the above section I have actually not watched xisuma’s videos with Evil X in them so I have no favorite moments like at all haha whoops

Idea for a story - he learns what NFTs are and instead of being evil and doing NFTs he decides to be evil towards NFTs. Starts a minecraft equivalent of twitter account and tells crypto bros he’s right clicking to save the image of their NFTs. Becomes a complete nuisance to everyone doing NFTs and moves into Xisuma’s basement so he can both cackle at the people on minecraft!twitter getting mad at him and annoy xisuma. Best of both worlds he is a multitasking genius

Random opinion - I feel like he would be the kinda guy to watch phineas and ferb, take a look at dr. Doofenshmirtz and be like he just like me fr

Favorite relationship - again I have yet to watch any eps w evil xisuma but all the fics talk about his friendship with Zedaph so legally I have to go with him <3

Favorite headcanon - him and xisuma being brothers absolutely slaps. Is this even a headcanon or is it actually canon I don’t really know. Either way it always slaps I’m obsessed with it

[narratorstragedy]

lotr and rebelde for the fandom asks

wren i love you sm.

lord of the rings

blorbo (fave character/character i think abt the most): it's aragorn. it's gotta be aragorn. he's a lesbian he's so lonely he's everything he's fated to be king everyone loves him he's trans he's the best guy ever. the only character. honorable mentions to faramir and éowyn... Yes i love Men so much could you tell?

scrunkly (my “baby” etc): frodo <3 gives him a hug and pushes him into a therapist's office. also sam. i love them both.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated fave): honestly lotr is so popular that i would not consider anyone truly underrated. however i guess i'll say either elrond or arwen. I Think About Them. oh! or éomer who, now that i think about it, is actually underrated. he's so funny and genuinely good i love him

glup shitto (obscure fave): ok well this isn't lotr exactly but can i say celebrimbor. not obscure as in no one talks about him but obscure as in he is mentioned like 15 times in all of tolkien's work and yet i once wrote 2 fics about him in the span of 2 days. i am normal!!!!! i also like ioreth :)

poor little meow meow (problematic/controversial/pathetic fave): this is hard bc i don't know if i would categorize any of my favorite characters as poor little meow meows. will you all kill me if i say denethor... i have so much sympathy for this fucked up old man who Used to be noble and good and wise but pushed too hard and it left him angry and bitter and empty........ h. alternatively aragorn and faramir can be meow meows too i guess

horse plinko (would torment for fun): saruman... get plinko'd lol [throws him off the top of orthanc]

eeby deeby (would send to super hell): tom bombadil bc i bet he'd enjoy it. it'd be like enrichment in his enclosure. beyond that, grima wormtongue. literally die die die

also shoutout to lúthien who i couldn't figure out where to categorize but was the first character i was truly properly obsessed with maybe ever. i love her so much. i used to want to be her

rebelde

blorbo (fave character/character i think abt the most): honestly idk... i don't really think about any of these characters that much HJDSHJSDJHK but maybe luka? i think they did a really good job with making him somewhat of an "antagonist" who does actually have a reason to be so bitter and gets somewhat-but-not-totally redeemed at the end. and i think there's potential for his arc to continue being interesting in the future

scrunkly (my “baby” etc): mj. holds her in my arms she is literally me (girl from socal who is overenthusiastic and speaks spanish but like not super well)

scrimblo bimblo (underrated fave): idk anything about the fandom/reaction to this show so i have no idea who's underrated. i dunno. gonna use this to shout out andrea and emilia instead i LOVE gay people

glup shitto (obscure fave): i don't remember any of the side characters. sorry

poor little meow meow (problematic/controversial/pathetic fave): MMFMSFNDFKDSJ. SEBAS. sebas. okay look i know he's like evil and morally bad or whatever but consider 1. he has mommy issues 2. he's hot. 3. i have listened to his duet with mj (lo siento) like 100 times.

horse plinko (would torment for fun): jana annoys me for absolutely no reason sorry girl ur getting plinkoed

eeby deeby (would send to super hell): sebas probably deserves it tbh. kisses him tenderly on the mouth have fun in hell <3 <3

[cheridraws]

Oooo top ten blorbos :)

Hehe yeah!!!!

10. Lmao kazuichi. LISTEN I always fucking attach myself to the bisexual red heads (it’s pink but it counts) and IDK WHY. I consumed 3 hours worth of content for him. I want to throw him across the sea

9. Ryan from infinity train. No explanation here. I think he was really neat and he makes me vibrate at uncontrollable speeds

8. Duke Crocker from haven. For whoever knows what the hell that show is I applaud you. He was my fav as a tiny child and I have been subconsciously styling myself after him for years. He was one of my first blorbos and I still cry everytime he’s on screen. Brb actually gonna go read some fic for him

7. Fuyuhiko :,(((((( still sobbing over him. I need more content immediately like right now. His story… mean guy who is trying to improve himself…. I am shaking him like dice

6. CHIHIRO!!! I literally love her so much omg. Their in game story was. yeah. but I still really enjoyed them and am. obsessed. She’s one of my favs from in game and I so badly wanted to see more

5. Massimo from Luca. I could list like every character from that movie but especially this fella. Love me some big ole guys with adopted adhd kid. I wanna give him a really big hug :))

4. Gundham!!!! He is goth. He is animal bestie. He is autistic. Like what else could I ask for he’s perfect

3. Ingo :)) my beloved train guy. Love this delight of a guy so much. He’s literally on my kin list. Obsessed with the ‘guy who wears black and never smiles is actually a delight and super nice’ type of characters AND it’s pokemon. Like how did gamefreak make the perfect character for me to consume. I need more of him

2.. It’s a hard choice but I gotta go with Kiyotaka for this spot. Literally his character is so good, I fell in love with this bitch as soon as I met him, then proceeded to explode when I got to chapter three of the game. I project onto him daily. I want to squeeze him like a stress ball. My beloved

1. MONDO OOWADA. I am. so mentally ill about him. I went into the game and immediately loved his design and stupid pompadour, and then when his trial hit I was DECEASED. He’s my poor little meow meow. Wet paper bag man. Beloved blorbo

[kettle-on]

(Oh woops, this is a lot longer than it was supposed to be, but I got carried away. Still not super happy with it, but I figured I'd post it sooner than later, before I changed my mind completely!)

Monty Python and the Barbados Fic

Eric x Michael x OFC

Chapter 4

attn: @jessm78 @coincidence-ithinknots-blog

Evenings at Heron Bay were lively, silly, rowdy, and populous. The Pythons had decided they would have guests to dinner every night, and surprisingly this proved not too difficult. Apparently Barbados was hopping with friendly famous faces at this time of year.

Mick Jagger continued his regular visits with Jerry on his arm, and one or two pairs of glamorous mystery Misters and Misses. It was revealed through many rounds of Charades that the Rolling Stone had an extraordinary talent for both miming and deciphering interpretive dance. His rendition of “the eruption of Mt Vesuvius” was met with roaring applause, and his “Sex Pistols” brought the evening to an un-toppable peak.

Things would take a turn, however, when an entirely sober Graham introduced a favourite game of his called “Poor Pussy” in which the chosen “pussy” approaches guests and, through meowing and distinctly feline behaviour, must make the guest laugh whilst they attempt to pet pussy’s head and say with a straight face three times: “poor pussy.” When one does laugh, they become the new “pussy.” This last rule changed quickly when it arose that multiple “pussies” had taken over the room, and hardly a word could be spoken from the guests through their laughter.

Perhaps the most uncommon news, however, came from casual chat. A visiting Keith Moon explained his plans for a new house in Malibu, anxious for acres of privacy and leaving behind his celebrity neighbours. Jagger the Charades king told of all-night New York City parties, to which Graham countered: “At least in London, one has the good sense to wrap up before sitting down to breakfast.”

Y/N was sure that, had she been keeping a list, she’d have been privy to the business of every star in modern comedy and rock and roll.

The next morning came too early once again, but Y/N was this time drawn to the bedroom window. From here she could see the team of gardeners hired to keep Heron Bay looking lush and groomed. She couldn’t help but feel that with each day that passed she was floating further and further away from what she remembered normal life to be like.

Not wanting to disturb a sleeping Eric, she made her way to the morning room that looked out to the curved courtyard. At one end of the room was a large painted screen of columns in some beautiful ancient scene. Each table surface in this room was topped with a floral arrangement, antique candlesticks, and photographs of visitors and houseguests. Decades of beautiful faces and elegant dresses, men in uniform, and posed portraits looked back at her from their frames.

What was this world? she had long wondered. Painted screens, stone pediments, beaches, house staff, tennis courts, and private ponds. Marriages, affairs, and cover-ups. Churchill, the Duke of Edinburgh, Lord and Lady Something of Somewhere Unpronounceable, and movie stars and rock n roll gods. And who was she in all of this?

From the near distance, she heard puffs of exertion and approaching steps. Michael had committed himself to continuing his disciplined daily morning jog and here he was returning.

“Ah,” he panted, “Morning.”

“Good morning. Nice run?”

“Well,” puff, “it’s not Holloway, but it’ll do.”

When he caught his breath, he noticed her uneasiness. With a smiling face and a tone he’d learned from his mother, he suggested:

“Tea?” --

It was much later that night that Y/N found herself again wandering the corridors alone. The afternoon had passed with a visit from Eric’s friend Ricky Fataar with whom he’d made The Rutles the previous year, and his wife, Heron Bay’s proprietress Penelope Tree. The couple had dropped in for what they called a “business luncheon,” and extended an invitation to the Python household out for a “business dinner.” The two Terrys and Eric accepted, (the Terrys hoping they might throw in a bit of “money talk” regarding their upcoming film budget) and by the time the day’s activities had come to a close, the outward dinner guests had yet to return.

In the rare quiet of the late-night, Y/N knocked on the door to the room where Michael was staying, and a friendly hum invited her into the room. A single lamp lit up the walls and floor, and a Michael in repose who was making edits to his well-kept journal.

“Do I recall correctly you said you’d brought a small library with you?” asked Y/N from the door.

“I did, indeed!” he responded, setting his journal on one of the nightstands next to the bed. “What’s the matter – can’t sleep?”

Y/N shook her head with an apologetic smirk.

“I see, and what sort of thing are you after?”

“Something, uh... gentle, I suppose. Something to escape.”

“Escape? From here? A tropical island and you’d like to escape – now that’s puzzling.” He drew back the thin blanket that covered his lower half, and swung his mostly bare legs over the side of the mattress.

“No, no,” she started, “Just something to, y’know, get out of my head for a bit.”

“Mm, is there something troubling you?” Michael eyed the three stacks of books casually adorning a side table, and inspected the choices of titles.

“Just feeling a little…” Y/N searched for a believable excuse, “homesick.”

He was not convinced. Putting his book task on pause he raised his eyebrows, requesting her further explanation. Y/N both appreciated and hated this look. Michael, though the gentlest and kindest of the troupe, would not let anything go unexplained or hidden for long, and his generosity and patience invited her to open up.

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” she confessed. “I feel like I’m just getting in the way, y’know? You’re all working hard on what I’m certain will be a brilliant film, and what am I here for?”

“You’re on holiday,” he declared with what he hoped was an assuring smile.

“A holiday from what? What do I even do?” She felt the agitation rising in her voice. “It’s like I just exist day in and day out with no purpose or point. No goals and no…”

Michael’s stare was intense and he waited for her to continue.

“…future.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper when she noticed she’d drawn his undivided attention. A quiet Michael was a rare thing, and the silence stilled the air between them.

“So, I thought... maybe a… a book might help,” she attempted, but Michael was already smoothing down the bedspread, offering a space beside him which she gratefully filled.

“Is this what it’s like being famous?” she asked heavily, taking a seat. “Always surrounded by extremely talented, important people, and constantly comparing your own worth and accomplishments?”

“I suppose it is, yes. Sometimes.” Michael was usually very good at telling the truth in a palatable way.

Nevertheless, this acknowledgement only supported her anxiety. Her face fell and she closed her eyes, sensing exhaustion was on its way. She silently prayed for one of Michael’s rambling speeches, and he intuitively delivered.

“But it doesn’t have to be,” he began. “None of this comes with the expectation that you’ve earned your right to enjoy things. You don’t need to have won a Nobel Prize or sold a million records to deserve fine cutlery. But when you’re well-known, everybody wants to know you and bring you lovely things, whether or not you think you deserve them. When that happens, I think what helps is to recognize what’s there for you, and appreciate that there are all these things you can access if you’d like to. What’s important to remember is that you have options, and lots of good ones, too.

“And as far as goals and a future, well… I can’t tell you that. All I can tell you is that you’re already building a future just by living. And learning, and asking questions, and thinking, and wondering, and loving, and caring.”

Y/N had stayed quiet. The past few weeks of indulgence, creativity, and celebrity drama had left her feeling in a way excluded, and far away from herself. It wasn’t something she found she could explain to Eric without seeming ungrateful.

Michael continued:

“So right now, you’re on holiday somewhere you’ve never been, and learning how the other half lives. And what am I doing? Well at the moment I’m enjoying a few weeks on a beautiful island, with marvelous weather, with my wonderful friends. Together, we’re finishing up a script for a film which, if all goes well, we’ll be making later this year. That’s my job, and it keeps me working, but I’ve got the rest of my hours and days, too, and that’s when I’m living. That’s when life happens, you see, in the in-between time.

Y/N had secured a point of focus on the floor, and found it fitting that Michael’s was one of the few rooms in the building with wooden floorboards instead of the palatial stone. In this room she could be almost anywhere in the world, and at this moment she was happy to be somewhere closer to home.

“There’s no rush,” Michael added, noting her half-daze. “Life is short, but... there’s so much of it. You can stop and start and chop and change as many times as you like. It’s all life,” he slowed his pace, carefully observing her softened expression, “and it’s all yours.”

Y/N leaned back onto her elbows and contemplated her bare knees.

“I don’t think I’ve heard that one before,” she mused. “Hm. I’ve got a lot of time to fill, haven’t I?”

Michael gave a warm hum of agreement and joined her sideways, propping his head on an elbow, attentive as ever.

“And what are you going to fill it with first?” he asked.

This prospect was suddenly overwhelming, and it showed in her eyes. She took a breath and decided to choose levity for a change.

“I could work on this tan, I guess,” she playfully suggested, kicking a leg up and indicating her knees, “What do you think?”

“Very nice,” he approved. In fact, he had long admired her knees, and was grateful to the January Barbados weather for getting them out of trousers and wool tights. The previous summer at many a pub garden evening, he’d envied Eric’s long fingers resting atop Y/N’s knees, giving an occasional squeeze, and more than once catching sight of a slow glide up a thigh, disappearing under a skirt hem.

“Looks like you’re off to a good start there,” he said, allowing himself an extra-long, fully permissible eyeing up of her legs.

“And you?” she asked, “What’s next in the in-between time?”

“Well, I thought I might see what life by the ocean is like. I don’t see it very often. They’ve got waterskiing down at the bay - I might give that a go. I doubt I’ll be any good, but at least then I can say I’ve done it. Obviously a very valuable skill in London. I can see it: there I am, shooting across the lakes of Hampstead Heath. Or better still, an aquatic commute! I could start off from Blackfriars in the morning, and be in Molesey by tea-time, how’s that?”

Y/N laughed, tired from the day but grateful for Michael’s silliness. She liked this. Why couldn’t Mike be around more often? Or could she have a mini-Mike to keep in her purse and take out for impromptu pep-talks and compliments, please?

“I wonder,” he said carefully when her laughter died down. “Rather than in the way, do you think perhaps you might be feeling a bit overlooked?”

This caught her off guard. Overlooked? She never felt ignored or unappreciated. On the contrary, Eric’s attention and gestures of love came in spades. But what was it for? What really did she have to offer? She hardly expected to stand out next to her accomplished and celebrated partner and his career, nor did she wish to dull his accomplishments or stifle him. Stability would be very nice, but so too would making a name for herself be. So what did she want – life or recognition?

“Maybe,” she finally said in a small voice, too tired now to analyze any further.

How fragile she now seemed to Michael. She had opened her heart to him, and the sense of duty and the care with which he held it felt so natural. He wished he could hold it for a little longer.

Stroking kind fingers down her forearm, he took her hand, willing her out of her trance. With a closed-eyed focus on her hand, he drew her knuckles to his lips.

“So I’ve got options,” Y/N re-stated.

“Mhmm,” sounded Michael, whose lips were still appreciating her fingers.

“And I’m building a life every day,” she continued.

"Every day,” he repeated, his thumb now taking over addressing her knuckles.

“And mine is no less important than anyone else’s?”

She knew the answer, but the question brought their eyes to meet, and he held her gaze with tenderness.

“I think anyone who meets you feels lucky that they did. I know I do.”

Y/N felt whatever was left of her distress dissolve with a heavy breath. She had been heard, and she knew with certainty that her cares were safe with him.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his torso, and he enveloped her shoulders with a tight grip. His voice was low in her ear:

“You know, if it was a book you were after, I rather thought you’d have asked Terry.”

Y/N wasn’t going to bother mustering the energy to protest or to come up with a nonsense reason why she’d chosen to see Michael. She was here now, and she was perfectly content with it.

“I’m very glad you didn’t,” he confessed, and having exhausted all words, he began a slow exploration of her neck, starting with nuzzling the delicate space beneath her ear. Sensing no resistance, and hearing her approving sigh, he continued down to her shoulder, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses as he went.

He was kind and patient and open, Y/N remembered as she felt herself giving over to the moment’s tenderness, her curiosity duelling with her fatigue.

With restrained eagerness, he moved along the underside of her jaw before,

“Stop stop,” she hushed.

She was fighting with her enjoyment, but this was not a good time to discover feelings. All she wanted now was comfort and sleep. She looked at her kindred Michael half-apologetically, and he shifted aside, making a space for her to lie down and sleep. He reached over to switch off the bedside lamp, and gently pulled the sheet up to cover their spooning bodies.

Out on the patio under the moonlight, Eric lay on a lounge chair, gazing into the sky and contemplating several things: Ricky and Penelope’s marriage, Mick and Jerry’s affair, and the concept of unfaithfulness. And the very nature of frivolity, and luxury, and everything he learned from the swinging sixties of liberation and self-indulgence. And, unexpectedly, Michael.

He wriggled in his spot, unable to relax. I need to write this, he thought. He worked most things out through writing, and now he would turn to his typewriter, get his musings out on paper, and try to make some sort of sense of his brain soup.

[thebigqueer]

okay if you are taking prompts still. one of those crack fics (?? i think that’s what they are called) where the boy is a demigod and shenanigans ensue

i literally had to sit here for a moment before i realized what boy you were talking about LSKDJFLKSFD

but i love this idea so yes!! i will definitely do that!! thank you for the prompt!!

also, as with my other prompt fics: i will be doing minimal editing, so please bear with me as you read some raw writing alskdfjklsdf

The Boy will admit, being allowed to trudge across the camps is wonderful.

He can do just about anything, and with his cute face, he gets away with anything too. 

One time he stumbled into the arena as Nico di Angelo and Percy Jackson were sparring with together, throwing names and taunting each other. He skirted around them, in fear that one of them would stab him if he were to even get close to either of the demigods. 

He skittered past them, to the back of the arena where his sworn enemy, Mrs. O’Leary, played with a large ball. The Boy wanted to scoff. Dogs and their large, stupid balls. Can’t seem to play with sophisticated things. 

He sauntered over to her, chin held high and a glare lacing his eyes. Mrs. O’Leary tilted her head at him, whimpering in confusion as if asking, Why are you here?

The Boy purred, pacing in front of the big, dumb dog. You suck. I’m going to get you in trouble. 

Mrs. O’Leary, who didn’t speak cat, whimpered again. She could sense the hatred oozing from the Boy, the arrogance spilling over. She didn’t understand why cats always walked around like they were better than everyone. Maybe it’s because they pretend like they have to be, Mrs. O’Leary thought. Maybe they think they have to be perfect for everyone to like them.

The large hell-hound felt a wave of guilt washing over her as she peered at the small cat. She hated that he must feel this way. She raised herself, carrying the bulk of her body towards the kitten, trying to be friendly. 

Disgusting, the Boy thought. Dogs think they’re soooo nice. He hissed at her, swiping his right paw. She stepped back. The Boy smirked. I’m going to get you in trouble. 

The boy looked around, staring at all the weapons in the room. In the corner, he spotted a large rack of practicing swords. Purr-fect, he thought. He crawled confidently over, wiggling his tail to keep the attention of the dumb dog. The thudding from her footsteps vibrated under him. 

She was curious as to what he was doing, so she followed. Mrs. O’Leary took it upon herself to make sure that he didn’t cause any trouble for himself. As the big dog of the camp, she had to make sure none of the other animals did anything to hurt their reputations. 

The Boy stopped at the rack, pawing at it. He pushed himself up on his hind legs and pressed his forelimbs against the rack. Nope, too weak. 

He glanced up at the large dog, an idea forming in his small cat brain. He meowed, just to let her know that he was up to trouble. She looked nervously back at the demigods, then to him, as if scared he was going to do something dangerous. She whimpered, but since the Boy didn’t speak in dog, he didn’t understand.

He stared up at the rack, wondering if he could jump on top of it and knock it down. It was too high for him. Looking around, he found that he couldn’t use anything else to get on top of there... Unless.... Yes, this would work.

He sat where he was, trying to act casual. The Boy licked his paw, containing himself here in the corner. Mrs. O’Leary waited, watching him, nervous for his next move.

And then, all at once, he surged forward and jumped onto her nose. The dog barked, surprised by the sudden movement. She tried pawing the cat off her nose, but he was too fast - he’d already gotten on top of the sword rack. 

Time stilled for a moment as Mrs. O’Leary watched in horror at the destruction that was about to happen. The sword rack, filled with sharp objects, fell to the ground, skittering across the floor. The cat meowed, almost as if in pain, and Mrs. O’Leary surged forward, hoping he was alright.

“What was that?” one of the demigods in the arena asked. She heard their footsteps as she nudged for the kitten in the mess, who was meowing angrily now on the floor. 

She was about to pick him up when Percy Jackson exclaimed, “Mrs. O’Leary! What did you do?”

She pushed the cat out of the mess and trudged him forward, whimpering towards Percy. He didn’t sound angry, necessarily; merely disappointed. That was the worst kind of reaction. She whimpered. 

Nico di Angelo stooped over and picked up the Boy, who was still wailing. He pouted. “I think she was trying to hurt him.” 

Percy frowned and shook his head, shame in his eyes. “Mrs. O’Leary, that’s not cool.” 

The cat purred in Nico’s arms, feeling the coolness of the son of Hades’ hands on his fur. He treasured the attention. He meowed weakly again, just to make sure he was selling his pain, and felt Nico’s head shake. “Not cool at all,” the son of Hades agreed. 

Percy patted her head, his fingers combing through her fur. “Now we gotta fix this up, girl. No extra treats for you tonight.”

No extra treats! Mrs. O’Leary thought in despair. Oh, that cat was up to no good. He hates me!

But she couldn’t exactly blame the Boy, because she can’t even speak. She only whimpers in shame and sits down, sadness in her eyes. 

Percy sighs. “Poor kitty. Nico, go set him outside.” He glanced at the swords. “Now we have to fix this.” 

[freddiesaysalright]

Beautiful Mess Part 1

A Brian May x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader works in a bookshop. She meets Brian May and they have an instant connection. It seems to be a fairy tale romance. But, things are seldom what they seem.

Word Count: 2.3k (it’s a short opener, but the later chapters will  be longer)

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​ @someone-get-a-medic​ @bensrhapsody​ @deakyclicks @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​ @minigranger​ @crazyweirdocalledfriday​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: The Brian series! I’ve had this in my head for a while now, so I hope you all will like it!

Part 1 here we go!!!

Your arms ached with the weight of the books you carried. Normally, you never left the shop, but this was a special order from a high-level executive, and a family friend. So his request could not be ignored or rejected. The idea made you nervous when you were first told. Your bookshop was your whole world. Outside of it, you felt vulnerable. Exposed. Like a little girl lost in a shopping mall.

As you reached the door to the studio, a soft mewl from around the corner distracted you. Swinging around, losing any semblance of balance you still had from the weight of the box, you somehow managed to round the corner without falling on your face. In the alley, you spotted a kitten - orange with big green eyes. He meowed again and your heart ached for him. 

“Oh, poor dear,” you said. 

You lowered the box. He glanced between you and it. 

“Go on, then,” you encouraged him gently. “I’ll take you in where it’s nice and warm.”

It was a crisp autumn day. The clouds blocked the sun and the wind was chilling. He jumped gracefully in among the books and snuggled down into one side. 

“That’s it,” you said. “Now, be very still while we make this delivery, alright? Then you can come back to the shop with me.”

He meowed his confirmation, and you smiled. Then, you came back around to the front door. That was where you met your dilemma. How on earth were you going to open it? The box was so heavy that putting it on the ground would mean throwing out your back in trying to pick it back up again. You couldn’t hold it with one hand either. Just when you were considering kicking it until someone heard, a man walked up. 

Your eyes went wide when you saw who it was. Freddie Mercury. You had met him once at the ballet when you were there with your family. Since they were in so many industries, including music, they already knew him, and you got to say hello. Rock music was not exactly your passion, but you knew of Queen and had heard a few of their records, so you were honored all the same. 

“Here, darling, I’ll get the door,” he said kindly. 

You weren’t the least bit surprised he didn’t recognize you. The night you met him, you were in an elegant gown, and surrounded by people. Alone on the street, in jeans and an oversized sweater, you were sure you looked like a different girl. 

“Thank you so much,” you returned. 

He pulled the door open and allowed you through first. Once you were, he followed and hurried past you. You assumed he was late and smiled to yourself. Then you headed upstairs to the office of a man named Harry, but that was all you knew about him. When you knocked on the door, a gruff voice ordered you in. 

There were just two men in the room. The man who must be Harry was seated behind a desk, and you actually recognized him from a family event, though you couldn’t remember his title or how he knew the family. Across from him sat one of your favorite people in the world, Charlie Kimball. 

“Papa!” you cried, delighted. 

Charlie was not your father, but he was your father’s best friend. Since your father had passed, it was Charlie and his wife, Susan, who cared for you. You owed them so much and they were quite possibly the two kindest people you’d ever known. It was rare for people in their class to be so generous. 

“Y/N!” he returned, standing up to pull you in for a hug and kissing your forehead. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be here when I turned up,” you said. 

“Not happy to see me?” he teased. 

“I’m always happy to see you, Papa,” you assured him. “Just surprised.”

He took the box from you and set it on Harry’s desk. 

“Thanks, Charlie,” Harry said. “I hate to drag your girl away from the shop, but I just had no time to go and pick the damn things up myself.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Charlie replied kindly. “Y/N is quite the obliging girl. Thank you, darling.”

“Of course,” you returned. 

Harry pulled out the top half of the books, leaving the remaining in the box. He hadn’t noticed the cat, thankfully. 

“The rest are for Jim Beach, downstairs,” Harry said to you. “He’s with the band in the recording studio.” He turned to Charlie and chuckled. “I took advantage of your kindness, Charlie, and let him tack onto my order.”

“You act like you’re putting us out,” Charlie laughed. “He’s in the same building! Y/N, go ahead and deliver those and then head back to the shop. I’ll see you on Sunday for dinner, yes?”

“As always,” you assured him. 

He kissed your cheek and then you carried the now significantly lighter box back down to the first floor. You walked into the studio, a bit nervously since you had never been there before. You just followed where you saw Freddie Mercury disappear and then walked until you heard voices. Someone was shouting, and you hesitated. But you were only going to be a minute, so you pressed on. 

“Hello?” you said, knocking softly on the door as you entered. 

Four pairs of eyes turned on you. One of them was Freddie’s and his brow furrowed with recognition. The other three looked confused. 

“I’m looking for a Mr. Jim Beach,” you said, terrified. “I’ve got some books for him.”

As you looked at each of them, your eyes stopped on a curly-haired tall man, with a guitar slung over him. This must have been Brian May. You’d seen some things about him in the papers, as well as the other members of Queen, Roger Taylor and John Deacon. 

Brian’s eyes held yours and for a moment, time stopped. You forgot everything. The books, the delivery, the cat. It all faded away around you, and it was just you and him. It seemed ridiculous that he was not striding over to kiss you. Logically, you remembered that he was a stranger. But your heart felt as if you had known Brian May forever.  

You were pulled back to reality when the cat jumped from the box and into Brian’s arms. He gave a surprised shout, but caught him and immediately began to scratch his ears. 

“Hello, there,” he said softly. 

“Miami, you didn’t tell me we could have kittens delivered to the studio,” Freddie said with mock indignation. 

Tearing your eyes from Brian, you turned and faced the newcomer, a man in a suit who looked more like the type of man you were used to meeting. 

“Mr. Beach?” you questioned. 

“How’d you guess?” he returned. 

“Y’know, with a name like Miami,” you joked. 

He chuckled. “Yes, that would be a good fit. Those my books?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, holding the box out. “Kitten not included.”

“Thank goodness,” he said, relieving you of it. “Have you met the band?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, this is Queen,” he said, nodding toward them. 

You faced them again, forcing yourself to not look at Brian. 

“Freddie Mercury,” Freddie said, extending his hand. “We met at the door.”

“Yes, I remember,” you returned, shaking it. You decided not to remind him of the time at the ballet. You didn’t want him to feel guilty. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Roger Taylor,” the blonde drummer said. 

“Hi,” you replied with a smile.

“John Deacon,” the bassist said.

You shook his hand as well. “Pleasure.”

Finally, you turned to Brian. He offered the hand that wasn’t holding the kitten. When you took it, and your skin made contact with his, it was electric. When you locked eyes again, all the air in your lungs was sucked out. 

“Brian May,” he said, and his gaze was intense with you. 

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “Yes, of course.”

“Y/N manages Charlie Kimball’s bookshop,” Jim explained. “It’s only just down the road from here.”

His voice once again removed you from whatever place it was that Brian took you. 

“Yes,” you said, clearing your throat. 

You realized you were still holding Brian’s hand and quickly removed it. 

“So does this little fellow belong to you?” Freddie asked, reaching over Brian to tickle underneath the cat’s chin.

“No, I found him outside,” you said. “He seemed cold, so I took pity on him. I’m afraid I’ve got a rather soft heart.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Brian remarked. 

He smiled at you and it sent a thrilling shiver up your spine.

“Well, it might be if I continue going round and picking up every stray animal I see,” you said, trying to sound teasing. 

“You ought to keep this one,” he said, handing the kitten to you. 

“I might,” you replied. 

“What will you name him?” he wondered. 

You looked at the cat’s face. “I think I’ll call him Cat.”

“I like it,” he said with a light laugh. “It’s right to the point.”

You beamed at him before catching yourself. 

“Well. I should be getting back to the shop,” you said, looking away from him at last. “It was lovely to meet you all.”

They said generic goodbyes, and you and Cat departed to brave the cold streets. Brian watched you go until you disappeared down the corridor. As you walked, you shook your head, trying to make sense of what had just happened. 

“Get a grip,” you said to yourself. “It can’t be.”

Meanwhile, Brian was still looking at the spot where you left, all ideas about the song forgotten. His mind was consumed with you. Your smile, your eyes, your voice. It all seemed so familiar to him, and yet he was sure you’d never met before. But how else could it be that you brought him to a place where nothing else mattered and you were the only two people in the world? 

“Brian, you alright?” asked Roger. 

The honest answer was no. His skin still tingled from where you had touched it. 

“Yeah,” he answered. 

“You sure?” Roger pressed. “You haven’t stopped starting at the hallway.”

Brian turned toward his bandmates at last. “Sorry.”

“I think Brian’s in love,” John teased. 

“Fuck off,” Brian returned. 

“Look, he’s blushing,” Freddie added. 

“Bless him,” Roger finished. 

Brian rolled his eyes and plucked a string on his guitar moodily. 

“Just go ask her out, mate,” Roger said. “She can’t have gotten far.”

“No,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I don’t think…”

“Don’t think what?” Freddie wondered. 

“He doesn’t think he’s attractive enough for her,” John answered. 

Brian frowned. 

“Can we stop talking about this?” he requested. “We’ve got music to make, you know.”

They all dropped it, but Brian’s mind could not. Every note, every strum, every lyric didn’t matter. He was fixed on you. His mind wandered to what you were doing, what you thought of him, and if you felt what he felt when you shook hands. He truly never thought he had ever met someone so beautiful. He wanted desperately to ask you out. His only trouble was how to do it and if you would even agree. John had guessed right, he didn’t think he was quite in your league. 

Back at the shop, you placed Cat on the ground, closed the door, and turned the sign to open. You got a little cup of water and put it down for him. You sighed and took your place on a stool behind the counter, head in your hand as you rested on your elbow. Your mind wandered to Brian. What in hell was that? 

You had never really believed in love at first sight, and you weren’t looking for love at all. But that feeling when you touched his hand was like nothing you had ever felt before. There was no other explanation. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said to yourself. “You’re just attracted to him, that’s all.” 

Cat looked up from his water and then leapt onto the counter. You smiled. He meowed. 

“You’re right, Cat,” you said. “I’m being silly.”

He pushed his head into your hand and purred. 

“I’ll stick with you, mate,” you said. “That’s a lot less complicated.”

A customer entered and you greeted them, pushing all thoughts of your introduction to Brian to the back of your mind. Throughout the day, you found that you could not rid yourself of it entirely. Just when it was getting to closing time, the bell tinkled above the door. A head of wildly curly hair made you hesitate on your way to the front door. You thought you had to be imagining it. 

“Hello?” called the unmistakable voice of Brian May. 

You squeezed your eyes shut with frustration. Your brain was screaming at you to stay hidden among the shelves until he left. You peeked around the corner and watched him, heart pounding at the shy way he approached the counter. God, he was attractive. He was so tall, but seemed to desire to take up as little space as possible. Unusual for a man who regularly spent time on a stage entertaining people. Very appealing, though. 

Cat jumped onto the counter again. He went right up to Brian and meowed demandingly. Brian chuckled and scratched behind Cat’s ears. 

“Hello, Cat,” he said, and the softness of his smile made you melt. “Where’s your mum, eh?”

Cat looked directly at where you stood. You sucked in a sharp breath and glowered at him for ratting you out. Tentatively, you stepped out. Brian was looking directly at you. 

“Hi,” you said nervously. 

“Hi,” he returned. “I just wanted to...well...see if you wanted to maybe have dinner with me?”

You blinked before blushing deeply. “Oh?”

“S’that alright?”

“Oh, yes, I’m just surprised,” you said. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” you wondered.

“Y’know,” you said with a shrug. “Plain.”

You met his eyes. 

“I don’t see that,” he said earnestly. 

You smiled. “Dinner would be lovely.”

[imaginationofacrazyfangirl]

When the Sun Melts the Ice

Written for my bff @junghelioseok, I finally wrote your Hobi fic!

Pairing:  Jung Hoseok X Reader

Genre: Angst,  strangers to friends, unrequited love, college au,  fake girlfriend! Reader, surprise ending?

Summary: You don’t think much of it when the Sunshine boy of Seoul University asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to get his ex back. After all Soomin hates your guts.

Words: 4431

Warnings: Unedited

You don’t think much of it when one of the hottest boys on campus asks you to be his fake girlfriend. You don’t know much about Jung Hoseok aside from common knowledge and the college rumors floating around, but you do know Soo-min- his ex,very well. The dark haired beauty was your sworn enemy having tormented you since the early days of elementary school. So it only makes sense in Hoseok’s desperate need to make Soo-min jealous that he turns to the one person she despises.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, unimpressed by his dimple smile. Many girls on campus would kill just to be called Jung Hoseok’s girlfriend, even if temporarily. 

You’re not like other girls though. The idea of being anyone’s significant other pretend or not fills you with dread. Love, attraction, sex, you don’t react normally to those things-mainly because you saw no point behind them. 

Hoseok’s smile falters. “I can hook you up with one of my fraternity brothers if they interest you more? But that would have to wait-”

“Does it look like I’m interested in your fraternity brothers?” You question, voice void of all emotions.

     A shiver runs up Hoseok’s spine as he’s reminded why your college nickname is Ice Queen. Suddenly he wonders if you can even pull off pretending to be his girlfriend. You aren’t exactly known for your warm loving personality… 

    “Well, what is it that you want?” he sighs.

He doesn’t know what to expect. Money would be the obvious answer since none of his brothers interest you. Completing your college assignments for the rest of the year is also a likely possibility (though he assumes you’ll request Namjoon the genius of Beta-Tau-Sigma to do it, instead of him). However he is completely unprepared for the request that slips out of your mouth.

   “I want to learn how to make friends.”

He blinks. “What?”

  To say he expects you to be joking is an understatement, but the frown marring your face says otherwise. His eyes widen. “Shit, you’re serious.”

   “Why not? You’re sociable. I mean you’re fucking Jung Hoseok, Sunshine boy of BTS. Everyone loves you.” You point out, finger prodding his chest aggressively. “If anyone can teach me how to make friends, it’s you.”

   “Alright fine, I’ll teach you how to make friends. Just stop poking me.”  Hoseok promises, hands raised in surrender. “But in turn you have to help make Soo-min jealous.”

    You eyed him suspiciously.  For a second Hoseok wonders if you’re going to back out. “Deal.” you finally reply. “So what now? We spit and shake hands or is this more of a blood pact thing?”

   To both your surprises Hoseok actually chortles. “How about we write up a contract? Blood pacts sound kinda scary.”

   Later that day Hoseok and you draw up a contract. He promises to teach you everything from small talk, first impressions and social norms in exchange for three months of servitude and prostitution  fake dating. Luckily Hoseok outlines everything that comes with the territory of dating, which in all honesty minus the few chick-flicks you’ve seen you are completely clueless of. In the end really all you have to do is hang around Hoseok, talk to him, laugh at his jokes, and occasionally display some form of physical affection. So far nothing vaguely alarming to  you.

 “Do I have to wear your hoodie? I can get my own.” you ask, picking at the fabric.

On your third week of dating Hoseok throws one of his hoodies over your head, claiming it too cold for you to walk around in short sleeves. Admittedly the fabric is comfier than anything you own and the warmth of Hoseok’s body still permeates it despite a solid hour passing. Part of you wants to keep it, but the rising goosebumps on Hoseok’s skin makes you rethink. Why didn’t Hoseok just ask for it back if he’s cold?  

   “Your dorm is a good four blocks away. You’ll become an icicle before you ever get there.” Hoseok laughs.

    You raise an eyebrow. “I think you’re the one becoming an icicle. You’re practically shivering Hoseok!”

   “Aish…you’re making me sound so uncool, Jagiya.” He bemoans playfully.

     You roll your eyes and pinch his arm. “Seriously Hoseok. Take the hoodie. I am perfectly fine in this weather. They call me Ice Queen after all.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Ice Queen or not, what type of man would I be if I let a friend freeze to death?”

   His words strike an unfamiliar feeling in you. It’s a strange feeling one that can only be described as a pleasantly warm ache. It thrills you as much as it scares you. Later you would pinpoint this moment as this beginning out it all, when your heart first started to melt. For now though you shove the feeling back with the reminder that this was all pretend.

    The real trouble begins when Hoseok introduces you to his ‘brothers’ a week later.’  The members of Beta-Tau-Sigma are undoubtedly the hottest students on campus, but what really scares you is the mere idea of making small talk. “Are you sure this is a smart idea? I mean we’ve just gone over the basics of small talk last week.”  you say clinging to Hoseok’s sleeve.

    The cherry haired boy laughs unable to deny your cuteness. If someone told him, he’d grow attached to Seoul University’s very own Ice Queen, Hoseok wouldn’t believe them. Hell, when he first approached you one month ago, Hoseok was low-key scared of you. You were just so unsociable, glaring at everyone who came your way, giving people the cold shoulder, and never speaking more than necessary. He whole-heartedly believed Soo-min’s claims of you being sociopath.

       “I want to learn how to make friends.” 

Your words echo in his head. A smile makes its way to his face at the memory. No sociopath would want such a thing. You were just a lonely girl whose awkwardness and shyness came off as apathy. “You’ll be fine, (Y/N). The guys are nice, I promise.” Hoseok assures. “Besides I’ll be here the whole time.”

    Your lips press together in what Hoseok recognizes as your version of a smile. The sight warms Hoseok’s heart. It may not be a full smile, but it isn’t your normal frown either. Hoseok hopes one day it can turn into a real bright smile. Moreover he hopes to see it when it does.

   “Guys! I’m back and I brought (Y/N) with me.” Hoseok calls as you guys enter the fraternity.

  You shy even closer to him practically hiding behind him. You are too cute, nothing like the cold-hearted (Y/N) (L/N) everyone feared. “Are they even awake?”

   “It’s mid-afternoon of course we’re awake.” Yoongi snorts coolly, appearing from around the corner. The two of you jump bringing a gummy smile to his face. “So you are Hoseok’s fake girlfriend? Definitely not the type of girl I imagined he’d go for-even if pretend.”

   Hoseok frowns.  “Yoongi-” 

“I don’t know you look like grumpy cat and he is friends with you sooo..” You snap back, reverting to your usual defensive nature.

   “(Y/N), remember what we talked about?” Hoseok pleads.

  However his pleas are ignored as Yoongi’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Grumpy cat?”

     “Meow.” You mock sassily.

Tension fills the room. Hoseok swear he can see lightning flash between you too. He’s about ready to have a panic attack when Yoongi snorts. His heart stops as his white haired friend doubled over laughing. “Meow? Did you really just meow?”

    “Maybe.” you shrug, pink dusting your cheeks.

     “I like her, Hobi. Keep her around.” 

   The excitement of his approval brings a fluttering to your heart. You’re so happy you miss Hoseok’s response. In hindsight you know it is such a silly thing to be proud of. After all you weren’t friends or anything with Yoongi, but it is a start. Something Hoseok seem to recognize, because he engulf into a big bear hug. He praises you, not once mentioning your poor etiquette or how you didn’t follow any of his teachings. The warm feeling from last week returns this time planting itself right into your thawed heart.

By the sixth week you’re so deeply ingrained in Hoseok’s life, he can’t remember a day you weren’t there. His mornings now consist of idle chats while walking you to class and the occasional coffee stop. Afternoon involve study trips to the library, followed by lunch either at the café or his fraternity; you are shockingly a good chef, something Hoseok never would’ve guessed. Nights tend to vary in activity, however almost always you two were together. Not day seemed to pass where you weren’t glued to his side and vice versa.  Even his brothers took a liking to you, which is unusual given their distaste for Soo-min.

Either way if Hoseok hadn’t already saw you as a friend, he definitely did now. It’s only ironic that during such a growth in your guys’ relationship Soo-min finally takes notice. 

“You’re pathetic, you know that Hobi?” Soo-min corners him one day outside of class. A sneer paints her cute little mouth as her nose twitches in obvious disgust. Hoseok swallows hard unable to stop his heart from beating against his chest. Even with that nasty look on her face, she’s still adorable. “I mean seriously? Hanging out with that loser (Y/N) to make me jealous? As if that would ever work, you know she’s a freak right?”

The harsh words against you causes him to frown. He never really understood Soo-min’s hatred of you. All she ever said was you were an emotionless freak and several other mean accusations excusing her dislike of you. Nothing ever substantial. “Stop it, Soo-min. You’re being mean.” 

Soo-min’s jaw drops. “Excuse me?! You’re not really defending that-”

    “Don’t. I love you Soo-min, but I won’t have you bad talking (Y/N).” Hoseok replies firmly. “Now if you have nothing nice to say I suggest you leave.”

    An indignant cry escapes Soo-min as she stomps off like a child. Hoseok releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. His head spins with confusion and frustration. Confusion at his sudden shift from how willing he was to drop Soo-min for you. Frustrated at Soo-min’s hatred of you, why couldn’t she see how truly vulnerable you were? He only thank god you weren’t around to hear Soo-min. He could imagine you’d pull back into that shell of yours from her words.

    “Well, she still doesn’t like me. Guess that’s a plus for you.”

 Hoseok leaped at the sound of your monotone voice.  The hairs on the back of his rising as he turned to find you lounging a few feet behind him. Your lips twitch in amusement by his fright. “Jagiya, don’t do that. You know I don’t like it when you sneak up on me.” he breathes out.

     You raise an eyebrow shooting him a look. “Jagiya? Aren’t you milking it a bit? Soo-min is nowhere to be seen, and I doubt her little lackeys are watching.”

  Another frown finds its way to his face. He rubs the back of his head, guilt eating him inside. “How much of that did you hear?”

  “Just the usual sound of her calling me a loser and what not.” You shrug. “She was rather tame if you ask me-sorry, I shouldn’t be talking bad about your girlfriend.”

   Hoseok shakes his head. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. Soo-min’s not normally like that. She’s kind, loving, a good person-”

   You hold a hand up to halt him. “You don’t need to explain Soo-min to me. There’s a lot of good, kind, loving people who hate me. I’m used to it. I mean I’m the Ice Queen after all, what does it matter if someone is mean to me-”

    “IT SHOULD MATTER!!” Hoseok snaps, startling you. This is the first time you ever seen Hoseok mad. It’s alarming. You didn’t even know he could get mad. The boy was the epitome of sunshine and rainbows for God’s sake. 

    He let out a weary sigh seeming to calm down. “It should matter to you. No one should treat you like this…I can’t stand it. I especially can’t stand why they do it. They don’t even know you. They don’t even try to know you.”

   A smile graces your face for the first time ever, but it’s not the smile Hoseok longs to see. It’s a bitter smile full of what he knows to be self-depreciation and hatred. “Could you honestly say you’d be any different if not for Soo-min breaking up with you?”

    No, he can’t and it kills him.

On the two month anniversary of your fake relationship Hoseok takes you out to a nice restaurant. It’s a little overkill you think given the hostility Soo-min’s begun to display since her and Hoseok’s confrontation two weeks ago, but you say nothing. Instead you wear the nicest dress you can find and do your best to look enviable for Hoseok’s sake. Your heart aches at the thought that soon the contract between you two will expire, meaning the end of your relationship and friendship. Just the thought alone cause pain to shoot through your being.  The seed planted by Hoseok’s kindness has finally started to take root within you, and while you are yet to recognize the emotion it brings, you know it’s nothing good.

“Are you sure this isn’t a little too much? I get that we’re putting on a show for Soo-min, but wouldn’t a café do just as well?” You suggest as Hoseok leads you into the brightly lit restaurant. It’s like something seen on the travel channel or a movie. Its ceilings hung with chandeliers and white silk cloths draped from one end to the other. Servers are dressed in crisp black uniforms setting the tables with multiple silverware. It’s all too much.

You are (Y/N) (L/N), Ice Queen/misfit of Seoul University. You aren’t meant for such treatment. “Aish…like I’d let my girlfriend fake or not go to a café for our anniversary. Nope, sorry Jagiya tonight we dine like royalty.” Hoseok winks.

Heat rushes to your face. Warming your inside as well. Another root spreads off the seed within you. “Hoseok…” you whine. “Really, I’m not meant for this treatment. I’m meant to have frozen pizza and the occasional takeout. Not rich people food.”

Hoseok snorts shaking his head. “Rich people food? You’re sounding awfully judging there. I’m not that rich.”

You’re about to argue otherwise, seeing how his net-worth is twelve million compared to your negative two dollars, but you stop yourself. “Spending this much money isn’t worth it for a fake relationship.”

“No, it’s not.” Hoseok agrees. A serious expression appearing on his face as he stares straight into your eyes. “But it is worth it for a friend.”

The smile reappears on his face as he drags you straight to a table hidden in back. “Come on (Y/N), think of it as a celebration for your success. In the last two month you’ve managed to befriend all my brothers and a few of their girlfriends. If that’s not cause to celebrate I don’t know what is.”

You frown. “Then why don’t we celebrate with them?”

  “Really (Y/N)? Can’t you just let me treat you to something nice?” Hoseok pleads.

     Your eyes narrow in on him untrusting. It reminds Hoseok of two months ago when this thing started. All the glares and narrowed glances you gave him shook Hoseok to the core. He spent the whole time hopping you wouldn’t murder him as the contract was drafted. Never once did he consider you might be as cautious of him as he was you.

      “Fine, but I’m getting the cheapest thing.” you decide, lifting the menu up.

   Hoseok watches entertained as you stare at the menu in hard concentration. Your brow wrinkles, nose twitching irritated as you look over the words. You look so much like an angry bunny, he can’t not to smile. “Problem?”

    You glare at him over the menu. “You know damn well it’s in Japanese, Jung Hoseok.”

 His smile splits into a grin, he wags a finger at you. “Now now (Y/N) remember what we talked about not directing anger at others.”

   “Shove it, Sunshine boy.” you reply, pouting in your chair.

 Hoseok laughs. He can’t remember why he ever thought you were anything but cute. Meanwhile you are trying to do everything in your power to stop the unpleasant roots of affection clambering beneath your skin.

     A week later you find yourself hunched over the toilet sick to your stomach. As fall rolls into winter, flu season hits the college hard. Nearly half of the population is absent from class due to puking their guts out and you’re no exception. So you text Hoseok letting him know not to bother picking you today since you are definitely not leaving anytime soon.

    He replies with a simple text telling you to get better, and you spend the rest of the day curled on the couch watching Friends. At some point you must’ve dozed off, because you awaken to a cool towel being placed on your forehead. Your eyes shoot open to see a grim Hoseok hovering anxiously over you. “Hey Jagiya, didn’t mean to startle you.” he murmurs softly.

   “Again with the Jagiya? You know we’re the only ones here right?’ you croak, bringing a smile to his face.

    “Sorry. I guess it’s just kinda becoming habit you know?”

Yes, you do know and you don’t like it. Jagiya is a nickname lovers give each other, while it was appropriate to use when feigning a relationship it shouldn’t be used so thoughtlessly outside that time frame. 

    “Whatever.” You mutter, ignoring the sharp pain in your ribs. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have stuff to do?”

     Hoseok pouts. “I’m taking care of you aren’t I? Doesn’t that count as doing something?”

You blush as yet again warmth floods your body. It’s been years since someone’s taken care of you. When you were little all you had to depend on was your Aunt and Uncle, they were never too fond of you. Hoseok being here for you���it’s almost too sweet to handle. 

“I should have never given you a key.” You mutter, burying yourself under the blankets.

        Thankfully Hoseok laughs not turned off by your rudeness. “Well it’s too late now. I’m not giving it up without a fight.”

     You roll your eyes. “Don’t you have a frat house or something to go invade? I’m sure they’ll be happy to have your sunny ass.”

    “Maybe.” Hoseok hums. “But I’m not returning until I’m sure you’re alright. The flu is a nasty thing. It kills you know?”

    It kills…your mind flashes back to the contents of your vomit earlier. A hollow feeling fills you as your chest tightens. The flu killed, but maybe not as bad the affection blossoming within you for Hoseok.

    Barely a week passes by when you decide to take the bull by its horn. The contract is on its last legs. While your end of the bargain is more than fulfilled, Hoseok’s still is nowhere near complete. Since that day he stood up for you, Soo-min had been sniffing around more, but it wasn’t enough. Time was running out in more than one way and you’d be damned if Hoseok didn’t get the happiness he deserves by the end of it. 

    Which is why you decide to make the ultimate move one day after class…a wide mouth sloppy kiss pressed against Hoseok’s unsuspecting lips. He jolts not shocked by your brazen behavior. Physical affection had been apart of the contract, but until now it consisted solely of hand holding, hugs, and the occasional peck of forehead. For you to throw yourself at him like this…well you’re surprised Hoseok has enough sense to kiss you back.

    Unsurprisingly Hoseok is well versed in the art of kissing. His tongue gently entangling itself with yours as he guides you through it. He’s so good at it you almost believe Hoseok’s kissing you because he wants to and not to make Soo-min jealous. The thought causes your heart to leap, but reality brings a choking feeling to you. Reluctantly you pull away before the sensation gets too overwhelming.

    Hoseok silently stares at you, tongue running across his lips. “That was…”

       “Unexpected, I know, sorry.” You says. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Soo-min glaring daggers at you. Undoubtedly this little stunt will book you meeting with her, but you could care less. “But if it’s any consolation, I think it did the trick. Don’t look now but Soo-min seems rather jealous.”

    “Soo-min?” Hoseok asks, eyeing immediately going towards the girl. He lets out a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Right, Soo-min.”

     You pat his shoulder. “Give it a day or two, but I promise she’ll come running back.”

        Hoseok nods wordlessly his eyes never leaving Soo-min. Your lips twitch upwards into a small smile, the suffocating pain growing as your love for him blooms. You lick your lips tasting the foreboding flavor of iron. “I guess this is it for us, huh Sunshine boy?”

       You press one last kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for everything. I really enjoyed being your friend while it lasted.”

      Hoseok snaps out of his trance. “While it lasted? (Y/N) wait-”

  However it’s too late. You’ve already disappeared into the throng of students nowhere to be seen. Hoseok’s heart squeeze at memory of your sad smile. For the last few weeks all he wanted was to see you smile, but never like that. Silently Hoseok wonders if he caused that hurt smile of yours. If he did, Hoseok doesn’t think he can forgive himself.

    Two days later you find yourself surrounded by Soo-min and her minions. It is nothing new, seeing how your antagonistic relationship goes back a good decade and a half. However this time there is more than just mutual dislike between you two. “You know Hoseok’s only dating you to get me back right? He would never look at you otherwise.” Soo-min taunts, a wicked grin splitting across her face.

    She wants to make you suffer-to hurt you in the worst way possible. It’s something Soo-min’s always dreamt of, only to get disappointed by your apathy towards her. This time is no different.

 “You’re probably right.” You agree. “But then again, you would think he’d realize it’s not working and give up, if that’s the case. I mean you’re obviously not going back to him, yet Hoseok’s still dating me. Hmmm …I wonder…”

     Her face turns red causing you more joy than necessary. Normally you didn’t antagonize Soo-min like this, but you have a part to play. Hoseok wants her back, and you would do anything to help, even if it meant putting yourself in the line of fire. 

“You disgusting freak! Stay away from my boyfriend!” Soo-min shrieks.

 A sharp slap rings through the air as pain spreads across your cheek. It takes you a second to realize what had happened. Your cheek stings something awfully fierce, and you know without a doubt it’ll be swollen later. Yet none of this matters, because Soo-min said the magic words. The words that would bring Hoseok happiness.

   “What the fuck are you doing?!” a familiar voice yells.

Your head whips over to see Yoongi marching over. Anger radiates off him as Yoongi pushes his way in front of you, his back creating a barrier between you and your tormentors. Confusion fills the air as everyone, but Yoongi are surprised by his actions. Soo-min steps forward looking as innocent as can be. “Yoongi-oppa, what are you doing here?”

   “I was walking to class, when I saw you attack (Y/N).” Yoongi grits. 

  Soo-min actually has the gall to play dumb. “Attack? I would never attack anyone, oppa. You must be seeing things. We’re just having a friendly chat with (Y/N) weren’t we girls?”

   “Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rain, Soo-min. I know what I saw and when Hobi finds out, you can kiss that stupid little hold you have over him goodbye-”

    “Stop it, Yoongi. Please.” 

Yoongi stills at your words. His eyes wide with disbelief. “No (Y/N), you can’t let her get away with this. Hoseok wouldn’t want-”

   Your eyes screw shut not wanting to hear his words. Your chest constricts with a pain you’ve grown all too accustomed to. “Please Oppa, just take me home.”

    Yoongi give you a conflicted look, but cedes nonetheless. He wraps an arm around your shoulder glaring at the girls as he leads you back home. You don’t even bother opening your eyes. You know Soo-min’s grinning victoriously. 

   Night falls and your cheek is now the size of a golf ball. Yoongi sits besides you pressing a cold pack to it. You’re eternally grateful for the blonde, even if you wished he’d leave. His presence only reminds you of how soon everything will end. “I don’t see why you refuse to tell Hoseok this?  Soo-min or not, he won’t put up with someone treating his friends like this.” Yoongi says for the millionth time.

   You shrug, curling into yourself. “What does it matter? It all be over soon anyway. Soo-min will undoubtedly return to Hoseok like he wanted, and our friendship will be over.. It’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

   “That’s bullshit.” Yoongi gritted. “And you know it. Hobi isn’t one to abandon his friends like that.”

    “Maybe.” You murmur, eyes flickering to the jars on your shelf. Each one of them is filled to the brim with white orchid petals. The sight makes you laugh genuinely laugh. Of all the flowers out there it had to be something so rare and exotic. A flower to represent the fragility and abnormality of the love blossomed from the Ice Queen for a ray of sunshine. 

     The taste of iron coats your tongue as your chest gave another excruciating squeeze. Swallowing back the blood, bile and petals threatening to escape you turn towards the blonde haired boy. Shooting him a soft smile you ask. “Hey Yoongi..do you know what Hanahaki disease is?”

——————————————————————————————————–

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 ) is a disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’s romantic feelings for or memory of their love also disappear.

[melodious-madrigals]

of communication and cats

Written as part of @wondertrevnet‘s Lock Out Bingo.

Fandom: Wonder Woman Pairing: Diana/Steve Prompt: texting Word Count: 2552 Rating: T Summary: Steve and Diana adopt a cat. Steve is exceptionally bad at texting. The two converge more often than you'd think. (Aka miscommunication, but like. Low stakes.) Mostly fluff. In-universe for lost love (sweeter when it’s finally found) which you can read here.

Find it below the cut or on AO3.

***

Notes: not really a texting fic, just a very loose definition of "fulfilling" the prompt because it includes some texts, lol. 

***

Don't be mad, but says the preview on her push notification from Steve's latest message. Not exactly an auspicious start, given his propensity for doing reckless things.

Diana massages the spot between her eyebrows where tension headaches start, and decides she needs to just bite the bullet and look at the text. (It can't be too bad if he's still able to text about it, right?)

Swiping down, she taps on the message.

Don't be mad, it says, but I found this little one abandoned, and I was *going* to ask if we could keep it but then I fell in love. Sorry, no takebacksies, but I will let you help me name it.

Attached is a picture of a fluffy black kitten curled up against Steve's chest. The angle is funny—clearly an attempt at a one-handed selfie while also holding the kitten—but it's one of the most precious things Diana has ever seen. The kitten's tail is wrapped tight enough to be gently touching its own nose. It's so adorable that Diana thinks she might cry.

The message is a little over an hour old, and Diana goes to text back when more messages come through.

Vet says: It's a girl! 🎈

Then, She has a great big personality, with a photo attachment of the kitten—vet office clear in the background—looking extremely indignant at her current circumstances.

I look forward to meeting her, Diana types back.

When Diana gets home, she finds a veritable explosion of cat toys and products across their living room and kitchen. At the epicenter, on the couch, is Steve, asleep, with a tiny little ball of black fur tucked up under his chin. If Diana had previously had any reservations about their new kitten (she hadn't, really), they would have been erased upon seeing them like this.

She snaps a quick picture, and then goes into the kitchen, pulling out vegetables to start dicing for the evening meal.

Twenty minutes later, Steve wanders in, the kitten now cradled against his chest.

"She's about six weeks," says Steve. "Which is a little early, but the vet says that other than needing to be fed, she looks healthy. She didn't appreciate her first round of shots, but she did appreciate the salmon pâté slurry I gave her afterwards."

"Poor thing. She was abandoned?"

"I think so," says Steve. "I actually saw her yesterday, hiding in the same spot, but they say not to move kittens, you know? because sometimes the mother is just off hunting. But she was alone yesterday and crying, and she was doing the same when I passed by today, and I couldn't just leave her there."

"You did the right thing, Steve. So, about her name."

Steve looks away guiltily, and Diana just knows that he's already named the cat.

"The vet needed a name to start her file," Steve mumbles. "I thought Bast would be cute."

Diana purses her lips, trying not to smile. "She already has you worshipping her like a goddess; it fits." Then she breaks, and starts laughing. "I'm not mad, Steve! About the cat or the name."

Steve looks relieved, like he didn't really think this would be a fight, but wasn't sure. They've talked about getting a pet before, but have always decided against it because of how much they travel.

"I already talked to Aisha and Marguerite," he says, referring to the couple who lives across the hall. "They said that they would watch her when we go out of town, as long as they also get to play with her while she's still a kitten."

"That reminds me, we should have them over for dinner this weekend. Or next, if they aren't free."

Steve shakes his head. "Next weekend's bad. I've got a work thing Friday night, and we're going to the concert at the Madeleine on Saturday with the Giraudets."

Diana makes a little humming noise as she pulls several spice jars from the cabinet. "Am I coming to your work function?"

"Only if you want, but I'd love to have you. You can't hit Floyd, though."

Diana wrinkles her nose at the mention of his co-worker. "We can go out for late night kebab afterward," she decides. "As a reward for putting up with him."  

"Génial," says Steve, at the same time that Bast wakes up and meows loudly. "Apparently we haven't been paying her enough attention."

"Hello, Bast," Diana says, and the kitten meows again.

"Here, take her; I'll finish supper," offers Steve.

The kitten squeaks as Steve transfers her, then settles into Diana's arms, looks up at her, and slowly closes her eyes and falls asleep again.

They're cat people now, apparently.

*

Bast, as it turns out, is a very affectionate cat. She wants to be held, constantly, and when she isn't being held, will toddle up to one of her people and scream until they finally do pick her up. She also likes sleeping tucked up under Steve's chin, which Diana finds absolutely hilarious because Steve is not—and has never been—a back sleeper, but now, more often than not, she finds him falling asleep on his back so as not to disturb Bast.

Bast is most definitely Steve's cat, but she likes Diana well enough. Often, she perches on Diana's left shoulder when she's working on her laptop, and peers at the screen like she's reading the artifact dossiers too.

Sometimes, if Diana is very lucky, Bast will curl up in her lap instead, nose still tucked into the curl of her tail, and purr. Most of the time, Bast perks up as soon as Steve gets home, and prances over to greet him with an affectionate headbutt.

"I see how it is," Diana says, one day, when Bast lifts her head at a sound outside the door that turns out not to be Steve, and Diana swears she looks disappointed. "You like him best."

Bast simply looks at Diana with her big round eyes and blinks once, which Diana suspects is cat for 'duh'.

"Oh, all right, I cannot blame you," Diana sighs, "I like him best too."

Bast presents her chin, and Diana obliges her with a scritch.

("That was a cat-kiss," Steve says later, of the blink, laughing. "Bast was basically telling you she loves and trusts you, and you thought it was sass.")

*

It's a perfectly ordinary day, and perfectly ordinary days are very easily ruined.

For the day in question, it's the We need to talk that shows up from Steve, causing Diana's nerves to go haywire. She really doesn't think they're fighting about anything, but 'we need to talk' is universally a bad thing, right? They're usually pretty good about handling their problems in constructive ways, and they're excellent at talking through things, but there's a certain permanent ominous quality to 'we need to talk' that fills her with dread.

But when Diana unlocks her phone, she finds: We need to talk about how adorable Bast is right now, along with a picture of the cat in question with her paws crossed over her eyes, and the tiniest tip of her tongue visible between her teeth, like she didn't quite pull it all the way in when she closed her mouth.

Diana laughs, shows the picture to her interns, and sends back She looks so angelic. Like she didn't start caterwauling at four a.m. this morning and wake me out of a dead sleep.  

She's a cat, replies Steve. They're always perfect little angels, even when they're not.

"That cat has you wrapped around its paw," Diana says that afternoon, when she comes home to find Steve making a special meal for Bast. "That had better not be the hake I bought at the market this morning."

"Of course it isn't. I filleted that and have the rest cooking down in the stock." He tilts his head toward the lidded pot on the stove. "This is just a little treat for being three months old." He says the last bit to Bast in a slightly sing-song voice.

She loves this man, she really does.

*

Diana is having a very long day and thinking about Bruce Wayne in a rather uncharitable way. (He is, after all, the reason she had to extend her business trip to the States and is not currently home with her husband and their cat.) She's dirty and tired, and trying desperately not to be bitter about it, because she doesn't approve of feeling bitter about things, when her phone buzzes.

The setting it's on means that the text can only be from Steve, while everyone else is filtered out by 'do not disturb'. Checking her surroundings surreptitiously, she pulls out her phone.

Diana help I'm dying reads the preview and Diana's heart drops into her stomach, body immediately prepping for a supersonic flight and going into panic mode because she's too far away, an hour or two at least from whatever Steve has gotten himself into now—

Diana help I'm dying at how fricking cute Bast is and I need you to be too, Steve has written. I can't even. Underneath is a minute long video of Bast, and Diana nearly hurls her phone across the room before the relief takes over. She almost throws up as she comes down from the adrenaline spike, too.

After a couple of deep breaths, Diana hits the dial button, and Steve picks up on the first ring, right as rain.

"Did you watch it? Isn't she just the best?" he exclaims.

"You need to work on how you start your texts, Steve," she says instead of answering. "Do you know how it popped up on my phone? 'Diana help I'm dying.'"

Steve sucks in a breath sharply enough that it's audible even across the tinny connection. "Oh, Gods. I'm so sorry, Diana."

Between his contrition and the fact that he's clearly okay, Diana feels her anger evaporate. She can't count the number of times that Barry—just for example—has used 'I'm dying' or 'DEAD' or 'deceased' to indicate various emotions that are not death-based. It's only normal that Steve would pick it up.

"No, I also overreacted," she admits. "I have not slept properly in two days and was not really thinking."

"I'll still work on it," Steve promises. "Seriously, watch the video; she's such a weirdo. It'll make your day better."

"Okay, I will."

"Hey, are you okay? Do you want to talk?"

"I am just ready to be home," Diana says. "I really shouldn't talk now, but hopefully I will be home before morning."

"Okay, Angel. Love you."

"Love you too."

The call disconnects, and then Diana hits play on the video. It's shot in their kitchen, and it's dark enough out that Steve has the overhead light on. Bast is in the middle of the floor, spinning in circles chasing her tail, or maybe the shadow of her tail, Diana can't quite tell. She suppresses a laugh as Bast starts spinning the other way. Dammit, Steve's right. She really is cute.

Day brightened, Diana taps out. Give her a kiss for me, we both know how much she loves those.

Two minutes later, a photo pops through of a very disgruntled looking Bast with the caption 'post-kiss', and Diana squashes down another laugh.

She's home by one in the morning, their time, and only has to move Bast a little bit to climb into bed next to Steve.

*

One of the reasons Diana was originally hesitant to get a cat was how much they both travel for work, and this month has been absolutely non-stop for her. In the past three weeks, it feels like she's only been home about three days. Fortunately, this is her last trip for another month (or at least, her last scheduled trip; JL business has a nasty way of popping up at inconvenient times), and Steve's job has been largely quiet on the travel front, lately.

She's got one more day to get through, and then it's just her normal job. She might even take a personal day or two.

She's just about to go into another meeting when her phone buzzes. Urgent! Read me NOW says the preview of Steve's message, and Diana immediately thumbs open her lockscreen, pausing before she enters the room, just in case she needs to dart back out.

We love you! ♥️💕 reads the rest of the message, and underneath is an attached photo of Steve and Bast. He's holding her up so that their faces are pressed together, and Bast has decided to be a perfect angel for Steve, looking directly into the camera. Diana swears she's even smizing next to Steve's own grin.

I know we talked about this, says another message that pops up while she's looking at the picture, but we wanted to make sure you saw that right away.

And then, We miss you.

A smile inches its way across her lips, and she sends back a quick selfie with a cat ears filter and a miss you too scrawled along the bottom before ducking back into the meeting.

*

It's Bast who hears her first, because when she opens the apartment door, Bast is sitting squarely in front of it. She lets out an indignant yowl, and then puts her front paws up on Diana's legs, asking to be picked up.

Diana shoves her suitcase inside the door, closes it, and obliges, and Bast settles in against her chest.

"She's clearly forsaken me," says Steve, who's just come out of the bedroom. "Hey you," he adds, leaning in over Bast to give her a kiss.

"Give it five minutes," Diana replies, because even though the cat looks comfortable now, her moods are mercurial.

"Mmm," Steve hums, clearly in agreement. "Hey, before I forget: can I see your phone?"

She shifts Bast (who looks up at her reproachfully) so that she can free a hand and pull her phone out of her pocket to give to Steve.  

"I've been fiddling with mine, and I figured out how to turn the preview off of the push notification," he says.

Diana lets out a startled laugh. "That's probably a more secure setting anyways," she says. "Go ahead. I look forward to the moment when every third text from you will no longer induce panic."

"The future is now," Steve deadpans, and Diana has to set an affronted Bast down so that she can give Steve a proper hug, because she's glad to be home.

*

The next morning, Diana sneaks out early to their favorite boulangerie for a couple of pain aux raisins. She's in line when her phone pings.

Swiping it open, she taps on the notification and sees (in full, this time, thankfully): Mayday, mayday, mayday, the cat has taken your spot. There's Bast—stretched out so long across the bed that it almost looks like someone put her on a medieval torture rack—looking very pleased with herself because she's taken up the entire half of the bed that is Diana's.

A small smile creeps over her face as she steps forward to order. She's got a spot to reclaim, a cat to snuggle, and a husband to kiss good morning; she hasn't got any time to waste.

***

[quercussp]

The Royal Mr. Whiskers

Rating: T

Word count: 2.3k

Summary:

Mr. Whiskers just could not understand why they had to move to a new apartment. This apartment was perfect! It had the couch Mr. Whiskers liked, the little nook above the fridge from where Mr. Whiskers could keep watch, a nice warm bed for him. All the smells were accounted for, all the walls sufficiently improved by Mr. Whisker’s claws. But no, apparently with Phil moving in, his humans didn’t have enough space anymore.

Authors note:

Happy Birthday Zan! This fic is about moving in, roommates and cats, so I hope you like it <3 Have the most lovely day today!

Special thanks to @alittledizzy and @bisexualshoemarriage for the beta work <3

Warnings: light swearing

[read on ao3]

Humans truly are ridiculous. Also very needy. Mr. Whiskers just could not understand why they had to move to a new apartment. This apartment was perfect! It had the couch Mr. Whiskers liked, the little nook above the fridge from where Mr. Whiskers could keep watch, a nice warm bed for him. All the smells were accounted for, all the walls sufficiently improved by Mr. Whisker’s claws. But no, apparently with Phil moving in, his humans didn’t have enough space anymore.

“Listen, it’ll be great! We’ll take the couch with us, you’ll have more space to roam. I promise you, you’re gonna love it!” Phil was explaining to Mr. Whiskers once again, while sorting laundry. Dan was out at work, and Phil was using that time to once again try to persuade Mr. Whiskers that moving would be a good idea. “See? Nothing fits! We just don’t have the space, I keep having to keep my socks in a pile on the floor! ... No, that is not acceptable. … Because clothing needs to be put away or it’ll get dirty again! Look at this, there’s more cat hair in here than there is fabric!” Phil waived a pair of socks in front of Mr. Whiskers face.

Mr. Whiskers has had this argument with Phil at least 20 times by now. When the topic first came up, both of his humans were incredibly excited. They would spend hours looking at their little lit up book, discussing potential new apartments, choosing what furniture would come with them and what they would buy. And they had the audacity to not even ask Mr. Whisker’s permission before making that decision.

Of course, Mr. Whiskers could not let that lie. Phil’s favorite mug had to go (it was thrown off the counter in the middle of the night, just for additional impact), along with Dan’s new shoes (if his human didn’t want him to pee in his shoes, he should have put them away into the closet. Or he could have stopped this silly moving nonsense). But even those desperate measures didn’t seem to help.

Dan, of course, being the thick headed individual that he was, could not put two and two together and insisted that Mr. Whiskers was having a “mid life crisis” and that they should just ignore his antics (and put away all their shoes at night).

Phil, on the other hand, definitely knew what prompted the destruction of his mug (along with the ruined sweater and of course the ‘cactus incident’. Poor Billy did not deserve to die that young, but he ended up collateral damage). So he started a campaign to persuade Mr. Whiskers that it would be a good idea. Well, maybe persuade isn’t the right word, more like bribe him.

The first thing Phil had to do was persuade Dan that they absolutely could not live in a flat on the ground floor. It was a two week argument in which Phil was forced to be very creative, explaining that he needs the exercise of going up the stairs and that he’s scared of a piano falling through the ceiling on top of him (it’s not like he could tell Dan that Mr. Whiskers insisted that he needs a good view of the pigeons outside and that he refuses to stare at people’s feet all day. He was Mr. Whiskers, not some lowlife dog.) Eventually, after multiple arguments, a lot of whining and several “persuading sessions” that Phil carried out in their bedroom, throwing Mr. Whiskers out of the room with whisper “Do you want the view or not?”, Dan gave in.

Next was the room issue. Phil was absolutely adamant that he and Dan need a separate room from Mr. Whiskers, and it was not easy to satisfy either Dan or Mr. Whiskers. Dan kept throwing his hands up in disbelief and shrieking “Why do we need TWO extra rooms?! I get one is a guest room, but what the hell are we going to do with the second bedroom?! Phil, no we do not need a separate room for the cat!.. Ouch! Fuck off, you animal, that hurt!” Sometimes humans just needed to be reminded that stupidity has consequences.

Mr. Whiskers on the other hand demanded that he would get the Master Suite. He might not exactly know what that meant, but if anyone would have the room that’s called the “Master” room, surely it should be Mr. Whiskers.

So that is why Phil was currently on his knees in the bedroom, folding Dan’s underwear and trying to reason with Mr. Whiskers, who was in the middle of his bathing session.

“It’s just called that because it has an en suite bathroom. You don’t even use the bathroom, why would you want that room?”

Mr. Whiskers gave Phil an unimpressed glance and continued licking his tail.

“It’s already hard enough to get Dan to agree to that place with the extra bedroom. If we tell him that he doesn’t even get the big room, there’s no way he’s gonna go for it and we’ll have to start the search all over again!”

Mr. Whiskers went on to carefully licking his toes.

“I know you don’t care if we stay here for another couple months, but we’re going crazy here! And do you remember that there was an actual gas leak last week, right? Please, be reasonable!”

“Hey Phil! Are you having a debate with the cat again?” They both turned their heads to see Dan glancing into the room, cheeks red from walking home. Dan came up to Phil and gave him a peck on the lips and ruffled his hair. “You’re a weird one, Lester.”

He tried to give Mr. Whiskers a scratch behind the ears, but Mr. Whiskers had no time for that nonsense and jumped up on the dresser with a huff.

“Fine, be that way, see if I care,” Dan hissed at him and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

Phil shot Mr. Whiskers a pleading look.

“Mr. Whiskers, please, you have to be the bigger person here. Or the bigger cat I guess,” he murmured quietly before following Dan into the kitchen. Mr. Whiskers could hear wet smooching noises and laughter and assumed that the humans were doing their licking thing again. Gross.

***

In the end, a compromise had been reached. After some lengthy debates, Dan agreed that having a separate room could be useful in the future (“In case we want to expand the family some day” Dan said and both of the humans suddenly got very red and giggly, much to Mr. Whisker’s confusion), and Mr. Whiskers finally agreed to take the smaller room for himself, as long as Phil promised that he would get a proper sized bed to sleep on. And not one of those kitty beds, a proper bed. One that he would approve of himself.

And that’s how they end up sitting at the kitchen table, all three of them, shopping for beds on Dan’s computer thing (it didn’t really make sense no matter how many times Phil tried to explain it to Mr. Whiskers, but the humans didn’t need to know that, or they might think that they’re smarter than him). Dan was showing them different pictures, and Mr. Whiskers was gracefully situated in Phil’s lap, who was gently scratching his stomach in an attempt to make the whole process more pleasurable for everybody (himself mostly, of course, as there is no greater pleasure than petting Mr. Whiskers, and Mr. Whiskers was kind enough to allow it.)

“How about this one?” Dan showed a picture of a small wooden bed with drawers at the base. “We can use it as a daybed and store things in there? Maybe fit a table in the room as well, have a little home office?”

“That could work, what do you think Mr. Whiskers?” Phil replied.

“Yes, of course, what does Mr. Whiskers think,” said Dan in a slightly teasing voice.

Mr. Whiskers let his claws out a bit and kneaded at Phil’s lap.

“Ouch ouch ouch, ok, ok! No, Mr. Whiskers doesn’t like it. He wants something bigger.”

“My god, this cat is such a diva!” Dan rolled his eyes but continued looking. He showed them a couple other options but Mr. Whiskers remained unimpressed (“You don’t have to claw me every time, man!” Phil would tell him, “I get it, you don’t like it!”).

Dan continued scrolling until a picture caught Mr. Whiskers’s attention. He stood up from Phil’s lap and let out a loud meow.

“I think Mr. Whiskers likes this one!” Phil exclaimed, pointing to a picture of a gigantic white fluffy bed, with a gold headboard.

“You’re kidding, right? You have to be kidding, Phil! Do you see how much it costs? It’s a king size! It won’t even fit in the room!” Dan was starting to get a little hysterical in Mr. Whiskers opinion. And the “king” part sounded pretty good, whatever it meant.

“No, Phil, no this is absolutely not happening!”

***

But of course it did happen. Many weeks and boxes later (who knew that all Phil had to tell Mr. Whiskers to convince him to move was that there would be endless boxes. Of all sizes. All for Mr. Whiskers to enjoy, despite his humans trying to use them for other purposes), they were getting settled in their new place, and Mr. Whiskers had to admit it was pretty nice. There were large windows with a nice wide windowsill for Mr. Whiskers to lounge on while looking outside. The pigeons on the balcony were an endless source of entertainment. They got a lovely new dining table and chairs, one of which Mr. Whiskers of course promptly claimed for himself. Even the couch that they brought with them seemed to be more comfortable, now that it wasn’t totally overflowing with random things.

As for the bed, Mr. Whiskers immediately knew that it was going to be quite acceptable, as soon as Dan and Phil tugged it into the apartment, red and panting from the effort.

“Phil, I hate you for making us get a place on the 4th floor. We are never moving again, you hear me?” Dan whined, plopping himself on the sofa dramatically.

“Yes, dear,” answered Phil breathlessly and went into the kitchen to get some water.

Mr. Whiskers jumped down from his lounging space on top of one of the bookshelves and went to investigate. The bed they brought in was packed in just an absolutely magnificent specimen of a box. It was giant, just the size Mr. Whiskers deserved. He sniffed the box while walking around it. The smell wasn’t great, but that was fixable. He clawed a bit at the cardboard.

“Impatient, are you, you fucker?” Dan asked, still panting.

Mr. Whiskers shot him a dirty look. His human really needed to learn to hold his tongue sometimes.

***

Under Mr. Whiskers’s careful instruction, the bed was assembled in his room and the box from it was left in the corner for him to enjoy later (that did require some scratching to achieve, as Dan was adamant on throwing it out. Once again, the stupidity of humans continued to baffle Mr. Whiskers). Phil put down nice purple sheets and some pillows on it, and Dan moved all the cat toys and Mr. Whiskers’ scratch tower into the room with him.

“I cannot believe we have a seperate room for our cat. We must be crazy,” he said, wiping off his forehead and pulling Phil to his side gently.

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re finally done moving. I can’t wait to live here with you.”

They were looking at each other with that disgusting look in their eyes, and Mr. Whiskers felt the need to remind them of who the real mastermind behind this whole moving thing was by jumping onto the new bed and meowing.

“And with you of course, Mr. Whiskers!” Phil corrected himself.

***

That night Dan and Phil closed themselves in their room pretty early and left Mr. Whiskers to wander the apartment on his own. By now Mr. Whiskers knew that they would keep the door closed for a bit, but then probably Phil would go to get himself some water and Mr. Whiskers could sneak in at that moment. More often than not, Dan was already too tired to kick him out again, and Mr. Whiskers could get some sleep in peace.

His plan worked perfectly of course, and just a couple of hours later Mr. Whiskers quietly tiptoed into the room, just as Phil was closing the door. He waited until they both settled back into bed, softly jumped up and made his way across the covers to the nice warm spot between the two humans.

“You stupid cat, you have to be kidding me!” Dan grumbled half asleep. “Get out! Get out! You have a separate room! With a separate bed! It’s bigger than ours! Go away!”

Mr. Whiskers ignored his rambling and curled up comfortably.

“Phil, tell him to go away,” Dan mumbled, but Mr. Whiskers could hear that he had given up. “Tell him he has his own bed.”

Phil just sighed and pulled Dan closer to him. Just a couple minutes later the two humans were peacefully asleep. Mr. Whiskers curled up a bit tighter and closed his eyes. He swished his tail, gently bumping it into the two bodies around him. He would let Dan sleep a little bit before moving to his preferred sleeping location - Dan’s pillow. It’s not like Dan needed it. No matter how much he liked to pretend to be annoyed at Mr. Whiskers for pushing him off of the pillow, he seemed to prefer Phil’s chest anyway. And Mr. Whiskers was not cruel enough to deny Dan the opportunity to do that. He was generous like that.