#i used to think i wasn’t a furry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

channiesbakery · 3 months ago

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fan account —

prompt / request — minghao finds your old fan account, and finds out that it wasn’t for him

pairing — fan!reader + boyfriend!minghao

word count — 923

genre — fluff

when you and minghao first started dating, you’d mentioned that you had a fan account before meeting him. you’d asked him if he wanted to see it but he declined and it never really came up again.

until today.

you’re just on your couch, peacefully reading your book when your usually calm boyfriend barges into the apartment.

“babe, we need to talk,” minghao states and you sit up, thinking it was a serious conversation.

“is everything okay?” you ask, seeing the serious look on his face. “no! nothing is okay! how could you!” minghao exclaims and now you’re really worried, trying to figure out what you’d done.

“what exactly did i do…” you trail off, not able to think of anything you’d done wrong recently. unless he was mad that you didn’t put the laundry away immediately or make the bed as neatly this morning. you knew your boyfriend liked everything to be neat and tidy but surely he couldn’t be this mad about that.

“i was just peacefully scrolling on my instagram explore page today when a certain fan account popped up,” minghao starts to explain, pacing the room a little.

“they posted a nice photo spread of my photo cards with a pretty tea set so i decided to stalk their page–”

“you stalk your fan’s accounts?” you raise an eyebrow, cutting him off. “i like to see my fan’s creativity. that’s not the point! anyways, i realize that this entire account is pretty much 90% dedicated to hoshi,” minghao says.

“and what’s worse is that i continued scrolling through it to find a photo of you! my girlfriend!” he exclaims.

“wait, this is why you’re upset? because you found my old fan account? babe, i told you about this when we started dating and i even asked if you wanted to see it,” you remind him.

“I’m not upset about the account. I’m upset that it’s dedicated to kwon soonyoung!” your boyfriend clarifies and you can’t help but be amused.

“seriously? it’s not that big a deal, babe. i has that account before we started dating– hell, before we even met,” you shrug, picking your book back up.

“okay but why hoshi?” he practically whines. “he was my bias back then–”

“he was your what?!” minghao gasps. “you biased hoshi? kwon soonyoung? hoshi?” he just stares at you.

“jealous?” you tease. “you biased him? your bias is a furry!” minghao gapes at you. “why did you even have so many photo cards of his,” he asks.

“okay it wasn’t my fault i always ended up pulling his photo cards in albums,” you shrug. “you should’ve sold them. and bought mine instead,” minghao states, his expression dead serious.

“aren’t you the one who tells your fans not to buy photo cards?” you give him a look. “this is different! you’re my girlfriend and you’re collecting a furry’s photo cards,” he argues.

“in my defense, i wasn’t your girlfriend when i was collecting him. besides, it’s not like hoshi’s the only one i posted on that account! I posted spreads for pretty much everyone, including you! it was just mostly hoshi and jeonghan because they were my biases,” you point out.

“oh great, so you biased the guy who thinks he’s a tiger and the one who has a pet rock,” he says dryly.

“i might’ve biased them but you’re the one I’m in love with now,” you assure him, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“so… where is your photo card binder?” he questions after pulling away and you raise an eyebrow at him. “you are not burning my collection,” you warn.

“i wasn’t going to burn it. i was going to sell it. and then use that money to buy you photo cards of me,” he corrects.

“it’s okay babe, i don’t need a photo card of you when i have the real thing,” you tell him, kissing him again before you focus back on your book.

you think minghao lets it go after that but you’re proven wrong a few weeks later when they have their comeback.

he comes home with a gift bag for you, making you raise an eyebrow. “shouldn’t i be the one giving you a gift to celebrate your comeback, not the other way around?” you ask but happily accept the gift.

he watches as you pulled out every album version. you don’t realize that the plastic seal had been broken on all of them as you open it.

you open the first album, checking your photo card pulls as your boyfriend watched with a smirk on his face.

“oh my god, all three hao’s? i don’t think I’ve ever pulled only one member before,” you say, setting down the three different photo cards of your boyfriend.

it wasn’t until you opened the carat version that you realized your boyfriend had done something.

“seriously?” you give him a look when you flip the photo cards to reveal, once again, all of his. plus the carat binder was also his.

“i guess you’ve lost your hoshi luck, honey. you got lucky pulling all of mine,” hao says innocently.

he watches as you pick up your phone, expecting you to take a photo of your pulls but instead he sees you tapping on it, most likely texting someone.

“who are you texting?” he asks and you look up at him. “hoshi. to ask for his photo cards,” you say, dead serious.

“hey! i posed cutely for all of my photo cards just for you and you still want his?”

#minghao x reader #minghao fluff #the8 x reader #the8 fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #channiesbakery drabbles #personal fav!

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goldfades · 2 months ago

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crazy cat people───joe burrow⁹

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had always been cat people—dogs were just too high maintenance, too needy. but you were never in a hurry to get cats until one night, joe finds a cat on a roadie and decides to bring her home.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | literally nothing but cat dad joe, and dog slander (JK!! not really, but we all know joe likes cats better). inspired by this clip.

The thing about Joe is that he’s always been a cat person.

You figured it out on your second date when the conversation somehow derailed into a passionate debate about why people automatically assume dogs are superior. It started off as a joke—some exaggerated takes for the sake of banter—but then Joe hit you with a well-structured argument about the independent nature of cats, their low-maintenance lifestyle, and the way they choose their people rather than blindly loving everyone.

“You ever seen a cat follow some random stranger home just ‘cause they waved at it? No. That’s some dog behavior.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “No self-respect.”

That was the moment you knew he was the one.

Well, not actually, but it definitely solidified your interest. Three years later, the two of you were still going strong, bound together by an undeniable connection, a deep understanding of each other’s quirks, and a shared stance that dogs—while undeniably adorable—were just a little too much. Too excitable. Too dependent. Too… needy.

“We’d be cat people,” you had declared one night while curled up on the couch together, his arm draped lazily around you. “Like, if we were to get a pet.”

Joe hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, but I feel like we’d be picky about it. Can’t just have any cat. Gotta be one with personality.”

“A little bit of an asshole,” you added.

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

Despite countless conversations about what you’d name your hypothetical future cat (the list had ranged from elegant, sophisticated names like Theodora to complete chaos like Little Shit), you never actually got one. Between Joe’s insane schedule and your own busy life, it never felt like the right time. You weren’t the type to impulsively adopt an animal just because it seemed like a cute idea—you took responsibility seriously. Joe was the same way.

But that didn’t stop you from sending him TikToks of cats daily. And it definitely didn’t stop him from pausing the TV anytime a cat appeared in a commercial, just to point and go, “That one’s kinda cool.”

It was just one of those things. A little inside joke, a shared fantasy, a part of your relationship that existed in theory but had yet to materialize.

Until Joe came back from a road trip with something unexpected.

Something small. And furry. And wrapped in the hoodie he had worn on the plane.

A cat.

He met your wide-eyed stare with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, funny story…”

It was one of those quiet, in-between days where everything felt a little dull without Joe around. You were used to it by now—his road trips, the stretches of time where you had to keep yourself entertained—but no matter how well you adjusted, the house always felt bigger when he wasn’t in it.

You filled the day the best way you knew how. Running errands, grabbing coffee from the spot down the street, making small talk with the barista who always remembered your order. You spent an unreasonable amount of time in Target, browsing the aisles aimlessly, tossing things into your cart that you definitely didn’t need but convinced yourself were essentials.

A candle? Necessary. A new throw blanket even though you already had five? An investment. A little ceramic dish shaped like a cat’s face? Joe would think it was funny.

By the time you got home, the sun was beginning to set, casting the living room in soft golden light. You went through your usual routine—changing into something comfier, throwing your hair up, and scrolling through your phone while curled up on the couch.

Joe had texted you earlier to say his flight landed on time, but you weren’t sure when he’d actually walk through the door. Traveling always took it out of him, and sometimes he lingered at the facility longer than necessary, just to settle back into the routine of being home.

So when you heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking, you perked up, setting your phone down.

Joe was home.

You stood, stretching a little before padding over to greet him—only to immediately freeze in place.

Because Joe Burrow, your extremely predictable, routine-driven boyfriend, was standing in the doorway holding a cat.

Not a cat carrier. Not a box from the pet store with a new cat inside. No, he was physically holding a cat in his arms, cradling it like some kind of newborn wrapped in the oversized hoodie he had worn on the plane.

“Uh…” You blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. “Joe?”

Joe, looking far too casual for someone who had just walked into your shared home with a whole animal, shot you a sheepish grin.

“So, funny story…” He shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the tiny creature, who—shockingly—seemed completely unbothered.

You didn’t say anything. You just stared. Because what the hell were you supposed to say?

Joe cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels. “I found him at a gas station. In, like… the middle of nowhere.”

Your brain short-circuited. “What?”

“Yeah. Just… chilling. No collar, no tags, nothing.” He looked down at the cat, then back at you, as if that explanation was supposed to justify the fact that he had apparently just kidnapped an animal. “He walked right up to me. Super chill. Thought, you know, maybe he needed a home.”

“You—” You ran a hand down your face, processing. “So you just… took him?”

Joe shrugged, completely unbothered. “No one stopped me.”

You stared at him, then at the cat, then back at him.

The cat—a small, scrappy-looking thing with fluffy black fur and bright green eyes—gave the smallest little stretch before curling back up into the fabric of Joe’s hoodie, as if this was the most natural situation in the world.

A sigh left your lips, half-exasperated, half-amused. “You stole a cat.”

Joe scoffed. “I didn’t steal him. I rescued him.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you check to see if he belonged to anyone?”

Joe paused. “I mean… he was alone.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Well, no one else was around,” Joe defended. “It was late. Freezing cold. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

You crossed your arms, arching a brow. “So your solution was to bring him home?”

Joe, completely unrepentant, grinned. “Yeah. He’s cool, right?”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers against your temples before shaking your head.

This man.

This six-foot-four NFL quarterback who spent three years claiming you guys would be extremely selective about what kind of cat you got, had apparently abandoned all standards the second a gas station stray blinked at him.

And worse? You were already kind of attached.

Because the damn cat was still curled up in his hoodie, looking completely at peace, like he had already decided he belonged here.

You sighed, waving them both inside. “I can’t believe you.”

Joe grinned, stepping past you and into the house, clearly taking that as a win.

“Should we name him?” he asked, already making himself comfortable on the couch, cat still in tow.

You groaned.

“Oh my God.”

The first night with Miss Honey felt strangely natural, like she had always belonged here. Apparently, you guys had been misgendering her the whole time.

After the initial shock of Joe casually waltzing into your home with a stray cat, the two of you got to work making sure she was okay. A quick check revealed she was mostly healthy—just a little underweight and carrying a few ticks, which you carefully removed while Joe held her still, murmuring soft reassurances. Despite being a random cat from a gas station, she was surprisingly chill about it, blinking up at you with those big green eyes like she already trusted you.

“This is insane,” you had muttered, brushing your fingers through her soft fur.

Joe, stretched out on the couch beside you, smirked. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You rolled your eyes because, of course, he was right.

That night, the three of you curled up on the couch and put on Matilda, your mutual comfort movie. Joe made popcorn, you pulled out the throw blanket you had impulse-bought earlier that day, and Miss Honey—named after the warm, soft-spoken teacher you both adored—made herself right at home between you, paws tucked neatly beneath her little body.

“She’s purring,” Joe whispered at one point, as if he was afraid saying it too loud would make her stop.

You had just smiled, gently scratching behind her ears. “Yeah. I think she likes us.”

It took less than twenty-four hours for Miss Honey to fully take over the house.

By the next morning, she had already established herself as a permanent fixture, weaving between your legs as you made coffee, hopping onto the couch like she owned the place, and—much to Joe’s delight—curling up on his chest while he lounged around watching film.

“She’s got good taste,” he mused, running a slow hand down her back.

You, sitting cross-legged on the floor sorting through your Target bags from yesterday, shot him a look. “You mean ‘cause she likes you?”

Joe grinned, glancing down at the cat who was currently making biscuits against his hoodie. “I mean, can you blame her?”

You snorted. “Unreal.”

Still, you had to admit—Miss Honey really did love Joe.

At first, you thought it was just convenience. He ran warm, he was still for long periods of time, and his heartbeat was steady enough to lull anyone to sleep. But over the next few days, it became clear that her attachment went deeper than that.

She followed him from room to room, her tiny paws padding against the hardwood whenever he moved. If Joe was at the kitchen counter making breakfast, Miss Honey was right there beside him, tail flicking lazily. If he was tying his shoes by the door, she sat next to him, watching intently like she had somewhere to be, too.

It was ridiculous.

“She’s obsessed with you,” you pointed out one night, arms crossed as you watched her bat playfully at the drawstrings of his hoodie.

Joe grinned, scratching under her chin. “Yeah, but don’t be jealous.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth blooming in your chest.

Because, truthfully, you loved it.

You loved that she trusted him. Loved that this cat—who had spent who-knows-how-long fending for herself—had chosen you both, nestled herself into the space between you like she had been there forever.

It didn’t take long for Miss Honey to establish a routine.

Every morning, without fail, she woke Joe up first. Not you—Joe.

You learned this the hard way when you woke up one morning to a quiet, disgruntled “Jesus,” followed by the sound of Joe shifting beside you. Blinking blearily, you turned over, only to find Miss Honey perched delicately on his chest, staring down at him like she was assessing whether or not it was time for him to get up.

“Babe,” Joe whispered, voice still thick with sleep. “Your cat is harassing me.”

You stifled a laugh, rubbing your eyes. “She’s your cat too.”

“Yeah, well, tell her to chill.”

Miss Honey, completely ignoring his complaints, took that exact moment to lean down and press her tiny nose against his, like a little wake-up kiss.

You melted on the spot.

Joe groaned, but even half-asleep, he couldn’t hide his smile.

From then on, it became a thing. Every morning, she woke Joe up first, then trotted to the kitchen like a little queen expecting breakfast. She had a schedule, and she stuck to it.

By the end of the second week, she had also taken over bedtime.

One night, you were finishing up in the bathroom when Joe called out from the bedroom, amusement lacing his voice.

“You’re getting replaced.”

You stepped into the room, brows furrowed. “What?”

Joe tilted his head toward the bed, where Miss Honey was curled up on his pillow, perfectly nestled into the space where your head usually went.

You crossed your arms. “Unreal.”

Joe smirked, patting the mattress beside him. “Sorry, babe. She called dibs.”

You shook your head, sliding into bed anyway, and—because Miss Honey was the most spoiled creature on the planet—you let her stay.

She purred contently between you, tucked snugly between your bodies, and Joe reached out, running a slow hand down her back before catching your gaze.

“I think she was meant to be ours,” he murmured, voice soft in the dark.

Your heart swelled.

Because he was right.

At first, Miss Honey had been a little more drawn to Joe. It wasn’t anything personal—she liked you just fine—but there was something about him that had her stuck to him like glue. Maybe it was his warmth, or the steady way he carried himself, or the fact that he had been the one to scoop her up from the cold and bring her home.

But after a couple of weeks, things started shifting.

It wasn’t sudden. There was no grand moment of realization where she decided, Actually, I love you too. It was slower than that—small moments that gradually built into something solid, something certain.

It was the way she started lingering in the kitchen while you made breakfast, winding around your ankles, soft fur brushing against your bare legs as she meowed up at you like she was part of the conversation.

It was how she started climbing onto your lap while you were reading, kneading her tiny paws into your stomach before curling up and purring herself to sleep, like you were something safe.

It was how she started following you into the bathroom whenever you did your skincare at night, sitting neatly by the sink and watching you with lazy, half-lidded eyes, as if she was deeply invested in your routine.

She was still Joe’s shadow, but you had become hers.

And it didn’t go unnoticed.

“She likes you now,” Joe teased one night, watching as Miss Honey happily stretched out on your chest, perfectly content.

You smirked, scratching under her chin. “She always liked me.”

“Nah,” he mused, tossing an arm around your shoulders. “She tolerated you. Big difference.”

You gasped dramatically. “How dare you?”

Joe chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Hey, it’s a compliment. You won her over.”

And you had.

Miss Honey wasn’t just a cat anymore. She was your cat. An irreplaceable little presence in the house.

Joe, naturally, leaned into it full force.

It started with the essentials.

A bed. A few toys. Some high-quality cat food that Joe meticulously researched before purchasing. He wasn’t about to give her just anything—he wanted the best, reading reviews like he was about to draft a new teammate.

You had laughed the first time you caught him looking up “best cat food brands for digestion” on his phone.

“Joe, she was literally eating bugs two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, and now she’s got standards,” he shot back, tapping on a link. “This one’s got good ingredients.”

And that was just the beginning.

Before long, Joe was going all out—buying her the best litter (something natural and odor-free, because only the best for our girl), a selection of premium treats (“That Temptations crap is all filler,” he had said, with so much conviction you almost cried laughing), and multiple collars in different colors and patterns.

One morning, you caught him kneeling by the front door, carefully adjusting the tiny blue velvet collar around Miss Honey’s neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, leaning against the doorway, watching as he straightened the little golden name tag.

Joe glanced up, grinning. “She looks good though, right?”

You had to admit—she did.

But the real turning point? The sweaters.

That was unexpected.

It had started as a joke—one lazy evening, the two of you scrolling through Etsy, looking at cat accessories for fun.

“Wouldn’t she look cute in this?” you had said, showing Joe a tiny, knitted sweater in a soft cream color.

Joe snorted. “No way she’d wear that.”

Turns out, she would. And she’d like it.

The first time you slipped a tiny sweater over her head, Miss Honey barely reacted—just gave a big stretch, turned in a circle, and promptly plopped down on Joe’s lap like nothing was different.

Joe, stunned, just blinked.

“You’re telling me she’s okay with this?”

“She’s thriving,” you corrected, grinning.

And from that moment on, Joe took it as a personal mission to build her wardrobe.

Over the next week, more sweaters arrived in the mail—different colors, different materials, even a tiny hoodie with ears.

“This is getting out of hand,” you commented as Joe unboxed yet another package.

He held up a tiny lavender sweater, inspecting the material. “It’s for layering.”

You stared at him. “Joe, she’s a cat.”

Joe just smirked. “A stylish one.”

Miss Honey, stretched out on the couch, gave a slow blink, completely unbothered by the chaos she had brought into your lives.

And, honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Three months in, and neither of you could remember what life was like before Miss Honey.

It wasn’t just that she had settled into your home—she had settled into you, woven herself into the rhythm of your days so seamlessly that the idea of waking up without her little body curled between you or coming home to a silent house felt… wrong.

Mornings were different now.

Gone were the days of lazy, drawn-out wake-ups—Miss Honey made sure of that. If Joe’s alarm didn’t get him up, her tiny little paws kneading into his chest certainly did. And if he dared try to roll over and ignore her? She’d take matters into her own hands.

Or, more accurately, her own whiskers.

One morning, you caught her using her best tactic yet—pressing her nose right against Joe’s, whiskers tickling his face until he groaned and finally peeled one eye open.

“You are the most spoiled creature on the planet,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

Miss Honey responded by immediately rubbing her face against his chin, purring like a little engine.

Joe exhaled a laugh, eyes still heavy as he let his fingers trail through her fur. “Unreal.”

Meanwhile, your mornings had changed in a different way.

You used to make coffee alone, sipping it in peaceful solitude before starting your day. Now? You had company.

Miss Honey had claimed her spot on the counter—perched delicately by the coffee machine, watching your every move like an executive overseeing production.

“Supervising?” you’d ask her, sprinkling cinnamon into your cup.

She’d blink, tail flicking lazily.

Joe, walking into the kitchen at just the right moment, would snort. “She’s your little manager.”

And it was true—Miss Honey was involved in everything.

She had a routine. A life. A set of unspoken rules that ran the house.

If one of you was on the couch? She was there too, curled up in the crook of your leg or sprawled across Joe’s chest. If you were cooking? She was on the floor, watching you with silent judgment, like a tiny food critic.

If Joe was watching game film, she’d climb onto his lap and stare at the screen, like she had some real thoughts about the Bengals' offense.

She had her little preferences, too. She didn’t care for loud noises but loved when Joe played music on his speakers. She always sat with you while you read, always meowed when she wanted attention, and—for some reason—seemed particularly obsessed with Joe’s socks.

“She’s weird,” Joe said one night, watching as she enthusiastically dragged one of his socks across the living room like it was her prized possession.

“You brought home a gas station cat,” you reminded him. “What did you expect?”

Joe exhaled a laugh, shaking his head as he reached down to scratch behind her ears. “She’s perfect.”

And she was.

She had changed things in the smallest, most meaningful ways.

The house didn’t feel empty when Joe was away anymore—not when you had her little paws padding around, her soft purrs filling the silence. Even on the loneliest days, she made it better, curling into you like she just knew.

And Joe—he had changed, too.

If he had been a cat person before, he was fully in his Cat Dad era now.

It had started subtly. The good food, the high-quality litter, the little sweaters he kept ordering. But at some point, it escalated.

Joe started carrying her around the house, tucking her into his hoodie when he was watching film, talking to her like she was an actual human being.

“Alright, Miss Honey,” he said one afternoon, kneeling in front of her as she lounged lazily on her little cat bed. “We got options. You wanna wear the blue sweater or the gray one today?”

You, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed, stared at him. “Joe.”

He looked up, completely unashamed. “She likes choices.”

“She’s a cat.”

Joe just smirked, holding up the tiny sweaters. “A stylish one.”

And then there was the Ja’Marr conversation.

One night, after practice, Ja’Marr had made a casual joke—something about how “one cat turns into five real quick,” laughing at the idea of Joe slowly becoming that guy.

You had laughed too, shaking your head. “No way. We’re a one-cat household.”

Joe had nodded in agreement, completely confident. “Yeah, no shot.”

But then… a week later, he changed his tune.

You were curled up together on the couch, Miss Honey stretched between you, when Joe sighed, absentmindedly running his fingers down her back.

“She’s kinda lonely,” he mused.

You blinked. “What?”

Joe glanced over, tilting his head toward Miss Honey, who was currently kneading her little paws into his thigh. “I mean, she’s got us, but, like… I bet she’d like a friend.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes. “Joe.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, tone easy, like he wasn’t suggesting something huge. “She’s got so much energy. I think she’d like a buddy.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God.”

Joe grinned. “Just think about it.”

And just like that, the conversation had started. And you had been so firm about it. Absolutely not. No second cat.

Miss Honey was thriving—happy, healthy, and fully attached to both of you. The idea of bringing another cat into the house felt risky. What if she didn’t like it? What if she got territorial? What if she felt betrayed?

Joe, of course, had started planting the idea like a damn politician.

“I just think she gets bored sometimes,” he would say casually while Miss Honey chased her own tail in the living room.

“She’s got a lot of love to give,” he mused one night, watching her rub up against every single one of your ankles like she was making the rounds.

“She needs a little sidekick,” he argued as she sprawled out dramatically on the kitchen floor, meowing at nothing in particular.

You shot him down every time.

Until, of course, fate decided to step in.

It was a random Saturday, and you and Joe were out running errands—nothing special, just a casual grocery run. You had been debating what kind of bread to get (Joe insisted the multigrain one tasted just as good as white bread, which was a blatant lie), when something caught his eye.

“Babe,” Joe said, suddenly abandoning the cart and heading toward the entrance. “Look.”

You turned, frowning as you followed his gaze.

Right outside the store, under a big white tent, was a cat rescue group—volunteers standing beside crates filled with tiny, curious faces.

A pet adoption event.

Joe immediately turned to you, eyes lighting up. “This is a sign.”

“No, it’s not,” you argued, grabbing the cart. “It’s just Saturday.”

“It’s a sign.”

You groaned as he practically dragged you toward the tent, already grinning like he had just won the lottery.

And then you saw them.

The kittens.

Tiny, wiggly little things with big eyes and oversized paws, rolling around in their blankets or climbing the sides of their enclosures with impressive determination.

You told yourself you were just looking.

Joe was crouched down almost immediately, eyes scanning the different crates as the volunteers smiled at him.

“You guys looking to adopt?” one of them asked.

Joe grinned. “Maybe.”

You shot him a glare. “We are not looking to—”

And then you saw her.

A tiny gray tabby, tucked in the corner of her crate, nibbling sleepily at her own paw. Big round eyes, the softest little face, and an expression that screamed, Yeah, I know I’m cute.

You inhaled sharply.

“Oh no,” Joe murmured, catching the look on your face.

You glanced at him, then back at the kitten.

“… I wanna hold her.”

Joe grinned. “Knew it.”

The second the volunteer placed the kitten in your hands, you were done for. She was so small, her little body barely bigger than your palm. She meowed—tiny and sweet—before immediately nuzzling into the crook of your neck, purring like she had just found home.

Joe, watching intently, exhaled a laugh. “Oh yeah. We’re done for.”

That night, you walked into your house as a two-cat household.

Miss Honey was not immediately sold.

The introduction process was slow—gentle, cautious. You followed all the steps, kept them separated at first, let them get used to each other’s scent. But, much to your surprise, Miss Honey didn’t react with any real aggression.

Mostly? She just seemed deeply confused.

The first time she saw the kitten, she just stared, tail flicking, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Joe, crouched beside her, grinned. “You got a little sister, Honey.”

Miss Honey turned her head, fixing him with a look.

You laughed. “I don’t think she asked for one.”

Still, within a few days, things started shifting.

The kitten—who you decided to name Fig—was relentless in her pursuit of Miss Honey’s love.

She followed her everywhere, mimicked her every move, and—on more than one occasion—attempted to curl up against her, only to be met with a single, unimpressed flick of the tail.

But then, one morning, you woke up to find them curled up together on the couch—Miss Honey’s paw resting protectively over Fig’s tiny little body.

Joe, standing beside you, smirked. “Told you she needed a buddy.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt full.

And that’s how you and Joe became crazy cat people.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fan fic #bengals #jb9 #joe shiesty #cincinnati football #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc

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sheep-from-rad · 4 months ago

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About the Reader who became Jason's roommate and all. I wonder what if they were so cold and distant with the family, they made sure for them to know that they are not a family. (They already closed their heart).

It can be things like, in class they won't talk with Tim unless they have to, like having a project together and if they do they'll only talk about the project if he tries to talk about something else she changes the subject or shut it down. All with a smile on their face, the way they talk is too professional and they won't let him involve emotions. "We are only talking about what needs to be talked about" they say.

The less subtle with Dick, Bruce and Damian because they come to them as vigilantes. Waking up to Batman and Robin cuddling them. They snap at them. Because first, "when did dressing as a furry and making kids fight crime with you turned to doing that to stalking civilians? And you claim to be my 'family' yet what family breaks into the house of someone and touches them in their sleep? That's not like family behavior but one of creeps!!"

They also snap at Dick for coming to them in his Nightwing costume. "Are you trying to put me in danger by associating me with your vigilant persona? What a good hero- what a good 'brother' you are."

With Jason, what if the reader didn't snap at him till now and told him about the three show up as vigilantes to a civilian, using his protectiveness against them in that way.

I don't know how may readers treat Jason but I can imagine that they don't cook for him and they don't eat what he cooks for them. They keep personal stuff like tooth brush and all of the personal things in their room. If he comes with injuries they will give him a first aid kit and clean the mess he made but mostly won't help him unless it is something he really needs help in like bandaging his back. Stay in their room for most of the time they are in the apartment.

I can imagine reader apartment hunting after Bruce by there's and stuff but also what if Reader got a better job that can help in that? What if the Reader decided that they will pay Bruce rent because to them he is nothing but their landlord? What if Reader managed to find another place to live in and became the roommate of a friend?

If the fam asked them to hang out or visit the manor they'd use the same words who were used against them when they were in the manor like "not now" "I have more important stuff to do" "don't you have other things to do?" "Go bother someone else" "stop nagging me". So it's like how they used to treat the reader at the manor.

I also feel like what they are trying to do is swipe things under the rug so, I can imagine them reaching the point where they try to confront reader and they just say "after treating me like nothing in my most valuable times of my life you think you can waltz back in my life and play family and I'd welcome you whit open arms? What kind of delusion is this?" "You are not my family and made it clear from day one. You can't just take it back, not after all the damage you've done."

Original fic: Jason's sidecar (Yandere Batfam x Neglected!Reader)

Titling this as 'Batfam trying to reintegrate themselves back to reader's life'

Masterlist

Jason had anticipated it. He was a child of neglect as well not just from his original parents but also partly from Bruce. He blames himself too when it comes to you. He’s the smart one next to Tim and he had read a lot of books on how to end the cycles of neglect and emotional abuse and yet he wasn’t able to help you. He may not say it but he feels like he deserves the current treatment he’s getting from you. And honestly, he’s fine with it. He’s fine with the coldness, he’s fine with the emotional distance. He’s fine by just being the shadow in your apartment who tucks you in your sleep at night whenever Bruce and Damian are out.

Tim is not satisfied with it. He will pull strings to make sure that you and him will always be on the same assignments and projects. If he’s not in the same group with you then he will quickly bribe the weakest link in your group to swap with him. Tim would also use his bad sleep habits as a weapon. It started with him passing out of the class and the professor having to call you to get him home and now the professor has you on speed dial (do people still use speed dial) whenever it happens. Most of the time it’s just a ploy for you to go home to the mansion because sometimes you can’t just say no to Alfred.

Bruce and Dick were hurt but it makes sense. The cowl and the masks protect the cities but too much attention is just as dangerous. At the end of the day even when they are tired, they have made it a habit to change clothes before coming to see you. Bruce is saddened over the fact that his relationship with you became transactional but much like Tim he would find ways to outsmart you. Whenever you pay him rent every month, he would slip back a hundred or two in the less conspicuous places. Most of the time you end up thinking it’s just money you forgot about. If you have those physical piggy banks, he will surely slip the rent back little by little. Dick would make it a part of his routine to be on constant lookout on Gotham’s apartment rent and leasing. Everytime an apartment lowers its initial rent, he would immediately book it and give it to a poor citizen (he’ll do it in secret and help citizens pay for the rent and even find a stable job to keep the apartment). He is also on the constant lookout in other cities as well with help of his other friends.

Damian hates it. He thinks you’re being a brat and that you’re doing it for attention. The estate is the safest place in Gotham and you left it for independence? Why would you ever gamble your life for it? He wasn’t in the whole ‘get you back home’ plan and he respects your decision on leaving even though he hates it. He wasn’t on it until he found his fist clenching hard as he stood inside your now empty room at the estate. He knows of emptiness and yet the feeling of you being missing in that very room felt like he’s falling down the abyss. Bruce holds you two tight every night but Damian will hold you tighter. Arms tight on your midsection and head on your chest. He’s partly glad those grip training worked off.

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marauder-misprint · 5 months ago

Note

would u write abt some angsty (mybe w a happy ending?) w remus, please? if possible maybe smtg like the bet trope, im soo down bad with bet tropes, 😔😔😔 im sorry if its a burden, and thank you for spending ur time reading this

You said "bet trope" and I said bet. So it's more fluff than angst... oops? I'll try to get more angst with Remus soon

Conducive

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

additional content

4.7k words

cw: fluff, lil angst,

“Moons, how is it that you’ve never been kissed, yet everyone calls you Casanova?” Sirius asks at dinner in the Great Hall one evening.

Remus raises his eyebrows but doesn’t look away from his plate.

“I respect women?” he offers.

“We all respect women here. But come on, even Peter’s kissed Mary,” James adds.

Remus looks up at his friends. “I’m here for an education. Dumbledore was kind enough to let me be here; least I can do is focus. You three are distraction enough.”

“I just think you could do with some more… distractions,” Sirius says, waving his fork around as a prop to make his point.

“If I wanted a female distraction, I’d have no issues obtaining it.”

“No issues, huh?” Peter asks. “Care to prove it?”

Remus shot him a glare. “Did you miss the part where I said if I wanted it?”

“I don’t see how you don’t want it.”

“Wormy’s got a point,” James says.

“Let me rephrase: If I needed a female distraction,” Remus says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sure, I want it from time to time, but if anyone else found out about my furry little secret, I’d be out of here. So I’m making the most of my time.”

“No one is going to find out!” Sirius says. “Have. Some. Fun.”

“You lot found out.”

“We live with you.”

“Still. You don’t think if I got involved with someone that it would take them that long? It was hard enough lying to you. What if I start to actually like someone? It’d be impossible.”

“Then don’t like them. Just get them to like you enough to kiss them and then ditch them,” Sirius suggests, earning himself a glare from Remus.

“That just sounds cruel.”

“More cruel than you denying yourself feminine company?”

“I’m Casanova, remember? I get plenty of company.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I still think you should prove it,” Peter says. “Do what Pads suggested.”

“What?”

“Get a girl.”

“Keep her ‘round long enough to get off and then you jet. Easy ‘nough, yeah?” James clarifies for Remus, given his mildly confused look.

“No,” Remus says firmly.

“What if we made a bet out of it?” Sirius asks, leaning forward.

That got Remus’ attention.

“Okay, then what do I get out of it? When I win.”

“If, and only if, you can get a girlfriend and snog the living daylights out of her, we will… uh… willingly study with you in the library for finals. We’ll be complacent participants, helping you and ourselves. As you try to drag us to do every year,” Sirius says. He pauses as the other two nod. “And if you fail, butterbeers are on you for the rest of the year.”

Remus snorts. “So if I do it, I just get company in the library and you benefit. But if I lose, I’m financially ruined?”

“More incentive,” Peter retorts.

“You’re on,” Remus says, offering his hand for Sirius to shake. He does. “If I wasn’t sure I could do it, I’d be asking for better terms.”

“Wait!” James interrupts with Remus and Sirius still mid-shake. “I feel like we should pick who it has to be. Otherwise you could just ask Marlene to snog you.”

Remus makes a face. “She’s dating Dorcas, you know this.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Peter says. “Either of them would snog you if you said it was for a bet, especially if it means we,” he gestures to him, James and Sirius, “lose said bet.”

“Fine. Pick the girl. For the love of Godric, pick someone single and semi-tolerable.”

The boys scan the hall, not paying attention to house. Their eyes land on you. All three boys seemed to be in agreement before any of them voiced your name.

“Her,” James says, pointing at you.

You were just as perpetually single as Remus, although he didn’t know what your reason for being so was. It wasn’t like boys never approached you, offering to pay for your drinks at Hogsmeade or to stand by you at the next Quidditch match, but the boys always walked away looking a bit down. You shot them down. Every single one of them.

So in the boys’ attempt to get him to prove his ability to charm a girl, they also wanted to see a miracle. From the grins on their faces, they know it’s going to be impossible.

“So you want my financial ruin?”

“I want either want butterbeer or you to get fucking laid,” Sirius says coolly. “It’s a win-win for me.”

“We said nothing about me getting laid!” Remus exclaims, panicking. “We said kiss, snog, neck, whatever you want to call it. Not laid.”

James laughs, “If you can get a snog out of her, you’re definitely getting laid.”

“I hate that I shook on this already,” Remus groans. He knows he has no way out of this now.

---

You are blissfully unaware of the bet the Marauders have going. You have no reason to think that you are of any concern to them, besides that Remus now occasionally says hello to you in passing. If anything, it feels like the other three are purposefully avoiding you, not that that matters to you. It’s preferable that way. You had always found Remus to be the most tolerable of them, but that didn’t mean you were friends or spoke to him all that often. Right now, it meant that you said hi back to him.

You are studying in the library when Remus comes up and asks if you’d mind if he shared a table with you. There are other tables available, but you agree. You are struggling with your Transfiguration essay and if it comes to it, you’re almost positive you could ask him for help. Until then, you work near each other in silence. That is, until someone else joins your table.

Andrew Lark, a boy in your house, sits across from you.

“You going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” he asks.

“No,” you say shortly, not looking up from your essay, although you do stop writing. You don’t want to write the wrong thing down because Andrew was talking.

“Do you want to? I’d love to take you.”

“No thank you, Andrew.”

“Come on, love. Let me take you out.”

“I have no desire to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, nor do I want to go out with you.”

“Baby, we’d have-” he starts to say.

“Lark, she said no,” Remus says calmly, having stopped working as soon as Andrew approached the table.

Andrew shot Remus an annoyed look. “Wasn’t talking to you, Lupin.”

“I know. But you weren’t listening to her.”

“This doesn’t involve you.”

Remus scoffs. “You interrupted my studying by being here. I’d say I’m semi-involved.”

“Then sit elsewhere,” Andrew says, before turning back to you. “Last chance? It’d be more fun than you’re imagining.”

You give Remus a sideways glance. He’s looking at you, waiting for your response as much as Andrew is.

“Surprise, surprise, Remus is right. I said no.” You give Remus a quick smile before turning back to your essay.

Andrew rolls his eyes and stands up. “Think about it, dove. My offer will always stand.”

Then he walks away. You and Remus both return to your silent working. You feel Remus’ eyes on you every once in a while; you can also tell he’s looking at you from when he pauses his writing, letting his quill just hover above the ink pot longer than a person normally would.

“So what do you have against Hogsmeade?” he asks after a few minutes.

You snort. “Oh, nothing really. Andrew’s been asking me to go with him for months and I’d really rather not go with him. Plus, Slughorn’s essay? Haven’t even started that.”

Remus nods with a breath of relief. “Good, I don’t know how anyone can actually not like Hogsmeade.” He pauses. “Would you like company when you work on that essay?”

The question catches you off guard. You look up at him and you’re sure the shock is evident on your face.

“I, uh, can’t stop anyone from being in the library,” you say, feeling uncertain.

“Well, no,” he chuckles. “But if you’d rather work alone…”

You don’t respond right away; you’re considering it. Remus wasn’t a bother. You didn’t know why he would give up a Hogsmeade trip to be in the library with you though. You knew he usually accompanied his boisterous friends to the village.

“If it’s just you, I suppose company could be nice.” A small smile is playing at your lips in a way Remus has never seen before. “If you’re thinking of bringing the rest of your little gang with you, I’d rather you stay away then.”

Remus chuckles. “Those gits will be off in the village. Possibly pestering Lark.” He sends a wink your way.

You shake your head as you look back down at your essay, but there’s an undeniable smile on your face now. Remus sees it as a success. Maybe with a little persuading from him, the others would let Lark know he needed to back off of you and you’d be free from his pursuits.

Come Saturday, you and Remus are back at the same table. Except he’s sitting across from you and reading as opposed to working on his own assignments.

Curious, you ask, “Weren’t you assigned this essay too?”

“Finished it.”

“And you don’t have anything else to work on?”

“No. That’s why I’m reading.” He flourishes his book for emphasis.

“So you gave up going to Hogsmeade for…” Your voice lilts like you’re asking a question.

“To keep you company while you work.”

“I work alone all the time. I’m usually more productive that way.”

“Maybe you just haven’t had company conducive to efficiency.”

“Who talks like that?” you laugh. “Company conducive to efficiency.”

Remus smiles at you and sets his book down. “I’m just saying! Some people are more of a distraction while others let you do your thing. James and Sirius? Distractions. Peter… He goes back and forth between the two.”

“And I suppose you’re conducive for them.”

“Most of the time. Others, I’m as bad as they are.”

He picks his book back up to continue reading and you return to your essay. The library is silent except for the scratching of your quill and the occasional turning of pages by Remus. You sneak a few glances at him when you finish a sentence or a paragraph, and you catch yourself full on staring at him when you finish. As you put your work away, you clear your throat to get his attention.

“I suppose you being here was conducive, but I feel bad that you didn’t go to Hogsmeade.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. Sometimes I need a break from certain people.”

“Then let me make it up to you. Let’s go to Hogsmeade together tomorrow.” You pause and blush at what you just said. “If you want to, of course, and don’t have anything else planned. I just thought that, because you didn’t go today and tomorrow will be less busy since everyone goes today.” You feel yourself rambling which makes you blush harder.

“Yeah, okay. That’d be nice. Meet you in the Great Hall after breakfast? Or lunch? I’m really okay with either.”

“I’m not a morning person,” you say with a chuckle. “We could get lunch in Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, okay. Then meet by the Grand Entrance around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan, Lupin. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you walk away from him, he can’t help but smile. This was going better than planned. He didn’t have to ask you out; you asked him. And all he had to do was not be forward about it with you. Now, he just had to work up to kissing you, and then snogging.

You’re more nervous than you expected to be in the morning. You had never been on a date before, and you weren’t even sure if this would count as one. Your roommates were confused as to why you didn’t go to Hogsmeade yesterday with them but were going today.

“It’s just backwards!” one had tried to explain when they heard of your plan. “Everyone goes to Hogsmeade on Saturday and does homework on Sunday!”

“Which leads to Hogsmeade being packed and then the library being packed. It makes sense to go today.”

You purposefully left out that you were meeting Remus and going with him. Just as he hadn’t told his friends that he was making progress with you. For now, until something proper came out of it, this Hogsmeade visit would be something you shared only with each other.

Remus is waiting for you when you finally leave your dorm. The walk to Hogsmeade is quiet. It’s not awkward though. You’re glad he’s not trying to force conversation. You fear that would be more uncomfortable.

“So where do you want to go first?” you ask as you arrive.

“I don’t mind as long as we hit up Honeydukes and Three Broomsticks at some point,” he says with a shrug.

You can’t help but think he looks a bit cute with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Start at Three Broomsticks then? Get our lunch and go from there?” you suggest.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

As expected, the pub isn’t too busy. You find a table and order food and butterbeers from Rosmerta. Then it’s just the two of you at a table. He asks about your essay that you were working on yesterday and if you think Slughorn will like it. He talks about his own. Conversation covers a lot of school, but then it drifts to your friends and Quidditch. And then to the Marauders and their pranks. Time flies by so quickly. Your plates are emptied quickly and you go through several mugs of butterbeer. You only notice how much time has gone by you glance out the window by chance and the sun is lower in the sky than you had expected.

“Oh! We need to get going if you still want to go to Honeydukes.”

Remus looks to the window and nods. “I didn’t realize the time…”

He waves down Rosmerta and hands her some galleons. You smack his shoulder gently as you exit the pub together.

“You paid? I was the one who invited you to Hogsmeade. I should’ve paid.”

He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t the guy on a date though?”

You blush, which in turn causes him to blush. So this was a date. And you had initiated.

“Let me pay for your chocolate at least.”

“Oh, don’t go down that road,” he says with a laugh and a wide smile. “You are underestimating how much chocolate I’ll be getting.”

“Galleons worth?”

“Galleons worth.”

“Remus Lupin! That cannot be healthy!”

“‘S not my fault my stash gets raided constantly.”

You laugh. The air is light between you. He really does get several galleons worth of chocolate; you thought he was kidding. You insist on paying for part of it. The owners of Honeydukes patiently wait for you to leave the store before locking the door behind you. The sun is set by the time you’re walking back to Hogwarts. The crescent moon is high in the night sky, bathing the path back to school in a pale light.

When you reach the castle, still standing outside, you say, “This was fun. I’m glad I got to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m glad I got to go with you.”

You feel your face heat. The romantic in you tells you, no, begs you to kiss his cheek. Tell him he’s why it was so fun. Talking over butterbeers was your favorite way to pass time and you really enjoyed getting to know him better. But you weren’t so bold.

“Goodnight Remus,” you say before heading inside.

He stood outside for a few minutes longer. He should have kissed your cheek. He was kicking himself for not doing so. But that might have been too bold and risked scaring you off. It was probably for the best that he didn’t. He needed to work up to it. The boys were waiting for him when he returned to his dorm.

“Where have you been all day?” James asks accusingly as soon as Remus walks through the door.

“None of your business, Mum,” Remus says, tossing the Honeydukes bag on his bed.

“Honeydukes?” Peter asks, sitting up. “You went to Hogsmeade? Just now?”

“You went to Hogsmeade without us?” James asks, putting two and two together.

“You went yesterday,” Remus reminds him.

“You chose to stay back. Why go today?”

“Because-” he starts to say.

“You’re working on the bet, aren’t you?” Sirius cuts him off. The smile Sirius was sporting said that he knew he was right.

“Yes.”

James and Peter gasp. Sirius grins wider.

“So you going to tell us how it’s going?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Peter asks with a pout forming on his face.

“You’ll just know when I succeed.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and laughs. “Must be going well if you’re still confident you’re going to succeed.”

---

“Andrew, for the love of Merlin, leave me alone,” you complain on your way to class.

Whatever the Marauders did to him at Hogsmeade wasn’t enough. He seemed more urgent than ever to take you on a date, even with you telling him that you weren’t interested in him in the slightest. He stands in the doorway to your class, which he isn’t in.

“Come on, just one date. It’ll be the best one you’ve ever been on!”

Remus looks up from his conversation with the boys at his desk at Andrew’s voice. He hears you groan.

“Let me into my class!”

Remus is there in a moment.

“Lark, let the lady through,” Remus says firmly.

Andrew spins around in the doorway, still blocking it but now looking at Remus.

“Little Lupin to the rescue? You fancy her or something?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Remus answers, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Now let her through. I think she’s made her opinions of you quite clear.”

Andrew glances at you over his shoulder.

“Hear that, dove? Lupin likes you.”

“I’d hope so. We went on a date.”

Andrew’s arms fall so he’s not blocking the door as well and Remus pulls you through, which makes Andrew stumble slightly out of the way.

“What do you mean you went on a date?” Andrew asks indignantly. “A date? An actual date? With him?”

“That’s what I said. Care to confirm?” you ask, looking up at Remus, who is still holding your arm.

“Yeah. It was quite lovely. She’s quite lovely.” He looks down at you with a soft smile.

Then without thinking, you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Andrew looks ready to scream and a few hollers erupt from behind you. You scan the room for the source. The Marauders. You’re not too surprised at that. Of course Remus’ friends would be watching him as he came to play hero. It’s less than thirty seconds, but by the time you look back over to the door, Andrew has vanished.

“Thanks, Remus,” you breathe.

“Maybe he’ll finally leave you alone, huh?”

“Hope so.”

He walks you to your desk before returning to his own, where James pats him enthusiastically on the back. Throughout the entire lesson, you two are looking over at each other. Most of the time, when one is looking, the other isn’t. You only make eye contact with him once all lesson, which caused both of you to turn a deep shade of crimson.

By the end of the week, Andrew stops asking you out on the daily and appears to be purposefully avoiding you and Remus. You find ways to spend more time with him, scheduling study time in the library and comparing schedules so that you can walk to your classes together. You even join him and his friends for lunch every few days. They were rather shocked the first time, but quickly turned into a welcoming group.

It became obvious to those around you that you were seeing Remus. It came as a surprise to many people, including your friends.

“What do you mean you’re dating Remus Lupin? When do you talk to him?”

“What do you mean you went to Hogsmeade with him? Alone?”

“When did this happen and why didn’t we know about it?”

Excuses of minding your own business and not wanting to count your chickens before they hatched echoed in your dorm. It really had come out of nowhere, but you suppose it was because Remus pursued you in a way that no one else had. He wasn’t putting you on the spot to do the things he wanted and disrupting you when you were clearly busy. He liked to be in your presence and took your opinion into consideration before suggesting things. Even better, he put Andrew Lark in his place.

You were headed to your usual table to meet Remus for a study session; you refused to call them study dates because you knew your mind would say that you can’t be productive on a date. You laugh at your thoughts: dates are not conducive for studying. You hear Remus’ voice as you walk through the shelves, collecting some books you know you need for your Herbology assignment. You stop mid-step when you hear additional voices at your table.

“Have you snogged her yet, Moony?” Sirius asks.

“No, not yet,” he answers with a sigh.

Not yet. You smile.

“Well, could you get on with it? You’ve been spending so much time with her. We need you for this prank.”

“You were the one to suggest the bet. Sorry I’m taking my time.”

“But you’re going to break up with her once you do, right?” Peter asks. “Complete the bet and get out before you catch feelings. That was the point of this.”

You bite your lip, hoping that somehow this wasn’t about you, that maybe Remus had a voice twin and they were talking about the other boy’s girl. You knew that it wasn’t possible, but you had to hope for a moment. But then James spoke.

“Even better, you got Lark off her back so she owes you. She owes you a snog and then you’re free. You’ll have gotten your kiss, Casanova.”

Lark. He had only been after you for a while. And Remus had been the reason he was leaving you alone.

You leave your hiding place within the books, stepping into their line of sight. Remus’ eyes go wide as he sees you. His heart breaks when he sees the tears in your eyes. You had heard and he knew it.

You lock eyes with him and you shake your head. Holding the books close to your chest, you turn to leave the library. How could you work with someone who was only with you to snog you for a bet? A damn bet?

You ignore Remus calling after you. You don’t break into a run; you have too many books in your arms to run, but you’re walking as quickly as you can. From the sound of his footsteps, he is running. Running and calling your name, saying it isn’t what you think. That the boys don’t know what they are talking about. You spin on the spot to glare at him through tears when he finally catches up to you and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Did you or did you not ask to sit at my table in the library because of, of, of that bet?” you spit. It comes out harsh. It was supposed to. You were angry and upset.

“I did, but-”

“There’s no buts about this, Remus,” you say firmly. You’re firm but your voice is laced with sadness and uncertainty. “All of this was because of a bet. And I’m not a bet. So yeah. Go fuck yourself.”

You leave him standing in the corridor. He could’ve followed you. Some part of him knew he should have so that he could explain.

---

You avoid Remus at all costs. He tries to hunt you down in the library, in between classes, in the Great Hall. He’s even taken to sitting outside your dorm. Your roommates step around him, muttering insults. He doesn’t blame them. If it had been anyone else doing this, he would be saying the same insults under his breath to Sirius, James and Peter. He hated himself for agreeing to the stupid bet in the first place. He should have just gone after you on his own terms.

About a week later, you spent all day studying in the library and you were honestly surprised that Remus didn’t show up once. You missed dinner, but you didn’t mind. If you had gone to dinner, you might have run into Remus and if you were safe in the library, you were staying there until you went to bed. Except you ran into Remus while trying to go to bed. He was asleep outside your dorm’s door. You knew you should’ve just gone into your dorm and ignored him, but you were a good person and wouldn’t let him sleep like that all night. You nudge his side gently with your foot.

“Lupin,” you say softly. “Lupin, wake up.”

He stirs, rubbing his eyes. When he sees that you’re the one who woke up and not some disgruntled prefect, he jumps to his feet and hugs you. You make a startled noise at the hug.

“Please, let me explain,” he whispers.

“You have five minutes. Then I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, thank you,” he says quickly. “Thank you. Okay, so yes, it did start as a bet.”

You groan and reach for the doorknob. He puts his hand on top of yours to stop it from turning.

“I have four minutes and thirty seconds,” he says, causing you to roll your eyes. “A bet that I couldn’t get a girl and snog her. I accepted because Sirius was being rude. Stupid, I know. But please, please, please believe me when I say the bet stopped being relevant the moment you agreed that I could keep you company in the library while you worked on your Potions essay. I wasn’t doing it just to snog you and prove to the boys that I really could get a girl.”

“And I should believe you because?”

“Because if it was just for a bet, I would’ve kissed you when we got back from Hogsmeade the first time. I would’ve snogged you in front of Andrew and the boys. Just to prove that I could do it. I would’ve been done.” He pauses, trying to read the expression on your face. “I’ve been spending so much time with you because I genuinely like you so much. I like being your boyfriend. I like being around you. I like making you smile. I like making you laugh. Yes, I’d like to snog you very much. But not for a bet. I want to snog you to feel your lips against mine. I like studying with you, I like paying for your butterbeers. I like walking around with you. I like when you hang out with my friends. I’d like to hang out with your friends.”

He pauses his ramblings to catch his breath briefly.

“That is, if you’ll forgive me for even partaking in this stupid goddamn bet. And you somehow convince your friends to forgive me too.”

You cross your arms and lean against the doorframe. You take in Remus’ appearance. You’re used to him looking perpetually tired, but he looks exhausted, so much worse for wear than usual. His hair is a mess and clothes uncharacteristically rumpled. His expression is so genuine and sad, practically begging you to understand how much he cares for you.

“Please. I know you’re more than a bet. So much more. The only good thing about the bet is that it actually got me to get close to you.”

“I’ll forgive you under one condition,” you say.

His face lights up and he takes a step toward you.

“Anything. You name it and it’s done.”

You smirk. “When you do snog me, please do it in front of Lark. A little revenge on that sorry bastard.”

Remus smiles widely and nods. Then he places a gentle kiss on your lips. It only lasts a second, over as soon as it began.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He gives you an identical kiss. “One snog in front of Lark coming up.”

#marauders fic #marauders #marauder-misprint #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #request #remus lupin

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onelittlespiral · 1 year ago

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FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent years perfecting my splits. After about two months, I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.

#male transformation #transformation #reality change #musk #bro #hypnosis #fml #muscle tf

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aeniiverse · 1 day ago

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CO-PARENTING A CAT

Synopsis — You and Karina broke up three months ago. It was clean, it was adult, it was entirely her idea. But neither of you thought about what it would mean for Miso your shared, overly dramatic, tuna-obsessed cat who now requires joint custody and emotionally complicated drop-offs.

contains — fluff, angst (maybe a sprinkle), exes to lovers, miso is a bit sassy 😭 (I love her), not much warnings lol

WORD COUNT — 2.5k

A/N — Karina just wants to get back together with you and the cat is a perfect excuse 🙏, have this short fic while I start planning out a longer one

You don’t expect to see her when you open the door in your oversized hoodie and one sock missing, but there she is. Karina. Holding Miso in one arm like a prize she’s just won in a claw machine, lips pursed and eyes wide like she wasn’t planning on seeing you either. The cat meows bored, judgmental, as if she’s the one being inconvenienced and Karina finally speaks.

“She was at my door again,” she says, shifting her weight like the three seconds of silence have started to burn. “Scratched it too. I think she hates me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Miso hates everyone. She’s fair like that.”

“She didn’t hate you when we were dating.”

You pause. And that’s the thing about Karina. She’s always been good at slipping the most dangerous sentences into the most harmless moments. Like she’s tossing grenades in with the groceries. You open the door wider, silently letting her in because fighting in the hallway would mean acknowledging to your neighbors that you’re still, sort of, accidentally, in each other’s lives.

Karina walks in like it’s still her place, like she remembers the way the floorboards creak near the fridge and where you keep the emergency Miso treats even though you moved them last month. Miso jumps out of her arms the second she spots the empty food bowl, trotting off like this whole “shared custody” arrangement isn’t ruining your peace.

“You cut your hair,” Karina says, and you swear her voice softens. You resist the urge to touch it, resist the part of you that wants to explain how post-breakup chaos spiraled into a salon visit where you panicked and said “surprise me.”

“You dyed yours,” you shoot back, because this is what the two of you do now, dodge real things with stupid observations. But then you see the way she smiles, just barely, and you hate how much you missed it. How much you still know it by heart.

Karina crouches to pet Miso, who rolls onto her side and purrs like she didn’t just abandon you two hours ago. “I think she’s manipulating us.”

“She’s a cat.”

“She’s your cat.”

You don’t say it, but that’s not true. Not anymore. Miso was a joint decision. She was an “our” cat. Back when you were an “our” instead of a weird arrangement involving Google calendar custody swaps and avoiding the third drawer in the kitchen because it still has Karina’s chopsticks in it. You don’t throw them out. You don’t know why.

“So,” Karina says, standing up and dusting her hands like she just did something heroic. “Should we talk about the scratching or…?”

“She’s probably just mad you don’t feed her the good stuff.”

“I literally bought that overpriced tuna mousse she likes.”

“You mean the one you used to say ‘smelled like ocean trash’?”

“I’ve grown. People grow.”

You snort, and you hate that it feels natural. You hate how she still makes you laugh in that stupid, knee-jerk way. Like your ribcage remembers her before your brain can stop it. She notices of course she notices and that smug, infuriating smile spreads across her face like it never left.

“I can leave,” she offers suddenly, even though she hasn’t moved an inch. “I just didn’t want her to get run over again. You remember last time—”

“I remember you crying harder than she did.”

“She had a cone! She looked like a furry UFO!”

You laugh. Really laugh. And for a second, it feels like you’re back in that strange little bubble you two built together. Where nothing made sense but it didn’t have to, because at least you had each other. But then the silence creeps in again, heavier this time. And you both know what’s missing.

Karina clears her throat. “Anyway. I can… take her back tonight if it’s too much.”

You want to say no. You want to say yes. You want to ask her if she still uses your Netflix profile and if she misses falling asleep next to you and if she meant it when she said it was better this way. But instead you say, “She’s already here. Might as well let her stay.”

And maybe you’re not just talking about the cat.

You’re halfway through a sad microwave dinner and a worse true crime documentary when your phone buzzes with a message from Karina: ”Miso’s acting weird. Like… really weird. Is she supposed to do that thing with her eye??” There’s a photo attached. Miso, mid-yawn. Not dead. Not dying. Just annoyed. You blink at the image for a long moment, then reread the text. Twice. Because it’s either an actual emergency or Karina being dramatic, and you’ve known her long enough to know those two things often look exactly the same.

Still, she said “really weird.” And that’s just enough to push you out the door.

When you show up at Karina’s apartment, you’re out of breath and slightly pissed, mostly because you didn’t have time to put on real pants. She opens the door in her stupid soft cardigan and even stupider wide eyes like she’s genuinely surprised you came. Which is insane. She knows you. She knows the second she says “Miso” and “weird” in the same sentence, you’ll drop everything.

“She stopped blinking for like twenty seconds,” Karina says as you step inside, voice hushed like Miso might hear her and take offense. “That’s not normal, right?”

You walk straight past her to the living room where Miso is perched like a smug little gremlin on the back of the couch. She looks up at you, unimpressed. You reach out a hand, and she immediately headbutts it, purring like an engine. Zero signs of trauma. No eye twitching. Just healthy, spoiled indifference.

“She’s fine,” you say, turning around slowly. “You made me run over here because she blinked weird?”

“I panicked!” Karina throws her arms up. “It was either call you or Google it, and I didn’t want to see something that said she had feline eye cancer or some shit.”

You want to be mad. You really do. But she’s doing that thing again wringing her hands in her sleeves, lips pressing into a guilty pout, eyes flickering everywhere but your face. Like she’s trying to look casual and failing spectacularly.

“You could’ve just said you wanted to see me,” you mutter before you can stop yourself.

The silence that follows is loud enough to make Miso flatten her ears.

Karina looks at you. Actually looks. And for a moment, it’s like you’re both back at the beginning, before the breakup, before the calendar swaps and cold distance and pretending you don’t miss each other. Her face softens, jaw unclenching just slightly. “I didn’t think I had the right.”

You sit on the edge of the couch, gently scooping Miso into your lap. “You gave her tuna mousse last week. I think you forfeited your moral high ground then.”

Karina groans and flops onto the other end of the couch like she’s been holding her drama in all day. “Okay, but have you seen her face when she eats it?.”

“She’s a cat.”

“She’s a tiny angel with expensive taste.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Miso stretches luxuriously across your legs, clearly enjoying the attention. Karina glances at the two of you, then hugs a pillow to her chest like it might keep her from saying something stupid. It doesn’t.

“I thought I was over this,” she says quietly.

Your heart stutters. “Over what?”

“This. You. Wanting to make up reasons to text you. Sitting around hoping you’ll ask for a sleepover again just so I can pretend it’s not a big deal.”

You freeze. Because you weren’t expecting that. Not from her. the one who ended it. The one who said she needed space, clarity, whatever. You’d nodded, swallowed your hurt, let her go. But now she’s looking at you like none of it made her feel better. Like maybe walking away wasn’t some strong, mature decision but a mistake wrapped in fear.

“Then why’d you end it?” you ask. The question hangs in the air like smoke thin and choking.

Karina doesn’t answer right away. She picks at the edge of the pillow, lips tugging down. “Because I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t scared all the time. Who didn’t freeze every time things got serious. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You ruined it anyway.”

“I know.”

And that’s the part that stings the most, how calm she is about it. How she says it like she’s been carrying the guilt around every day, tucked inside all the moments where she played it cool and acted like she didn’t miss you. You shift under the weight of Miso and the truth pressing down on your chest.

“I kept your hoodie,” she says suddenly. “The blue one. It still smells like you.”

You blink.

“I didn’t mean to. I just… never gave it back. And now it’s like… this comfort thing? Is that weird? That’s probably weird.”

You stare at her. “Do you sleep in it?”

She shrinks into the pillow. “Sometimes.”

Your laugh is soft, disbelieving. “You fake a cat emergency and sleep in my clothes and you’re wondering if that’s the weird part?”

Karina groans and hides her face. “God, I sound so creepy.”

“No,” you say. “You sound like someone who didn’t want to let go.”

She peeks out, hopeful. “What if I don’t?”

You look down at Miso, who’s blissfully unaware of the emotional mess she’s caused. Then back at Karina, at the flush on her cheeks, the nervous curl of her fingers, the quiet hope in her voice. She doesn’t look like someone who’s moved on. She looks like someone who’s been waiting for a sign.

“You didn’t have to pretend,” you say softly. “You could’ve just said you missed me.”

Karina bites her lip. “I missed you so much it was pathetic.”

You smile. “Good.”

Her eyes widen. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you say, nudging Miso gently to the side as you shift closer. “Because I missed you too.”

There’s a pause, charged and soft at the same time. Then she leans in like gravity’s pulling her there, like she’s done waiting. Her voice drops just above a whisper. “So… does this mean I can stop inventing medical emergencies to see you?”

“No promises,” you tease. “But maybe next time, just say hi like a normal person.”

“Normal’s boring,” she murmurs, and then she kisses you.

It’s tentative at first. Careful. Like she’s afraid you might change your mind. But you don’t. You kiss her back, slow and sure, and when she exhales against your mouth like relief, you realize you’re both still in love. Just slightly less afraid now.

Miso meows loudly between you, possibly out of protest. Possibly because she’s no longer the center of attention.

Karina pulls back, grinning. “I think she’s jealous.”

“She’s just mad she can’t fake another crisis now that the truth’s out.”

You both laugh, leaning into each other, the tension finally breaking.

And maybe it took fake emergencies and tuna mousse and an emotionally manipulative cat to get here, but you’re here. Together. Again.

Sort of.

Almost.

Just enough.

You wake up to the sound of purring and something soft against your cheek. For a brief, disoriented second, you think it’s a dream the one of those warm, sugar-fogged ones where everything is right again and Karina’s still yours. But then you blink, and the ceiling isn’t yours, and the blanket smells like Karina’s detergent, and Miso is fully sprawled across your face like the world’s most possessive weighted blanket. You groan, gently shifting her to the side, and that’s when you feel it. Karina’s arm curled loosely around your waist, her breath steady against the back of your neck, like she never let go at all.

You don’t move. You don’t even breathe for a second. Just lie there, frozen in this strange, tender limbo where maybe you’re not exes, maybe you never were, maybe last night was the first step back to something you weren’t brave enough to fight for before.

Then her voice breaks the quiet, sleepy and rough at the edges. “You drool in your sleep.”

You reach back and smack her arm without turning around. “You kissed me last night.”

“Technically, you kissed me back.”

You finally roll over, careful not to disturb the ball of fur between you. Karina’s hair is a disaster, her eyeliner smudged, one cheek creased from the pillow and she still looks stupidly, unfairly pretty. You hate that it makes your heart do cartwheels. You hate that all it took was one dumb night of honesty and tuna mousse to unravel weeks of distance.

“You really missed me?” you ask, quieter this time. Not teasing. Not testing. Just needing.

Karina nods, eyes meeting yours. “I missed you so much I started naming my plants after you. Even the cactus.”

You stare. “Why the cactus?”

“Because it’s prickly and hard to take care of but it still makes me happy.”

You bury your face in the pillow to muffle the groan. “That’s the worst metaphor I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been emotionally constipated for weeks. Let me live.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to make both of you feel the shift. Like something fragile is settling between you, just out of reach. You lift your head and meet her gaze again, softer now.

“So what does this mean?” you ask. “Was last night a one-time makeout brought to you by guilt and cat anxiety, or…?”

Karina hesitates, then slowly, carefully, reaches for your hand beneath the blanket. Her fingers lace through yours, and her grip is warm. Steady. “It means I want to try again. If you’ll let me. No more running. No more hiding behind Miso.”

You glance down at the cat, who is now asleep with one paw dramatically draped over Karina’s stomach like she’s claiming her.

“She forgives you,” you say.

Karina smiles. “What about you?”

You think about the hoodie she kept, the look on her face when she kissed you, the way she’s holding your hand like she never wants to let go again.

“I think so.”

Karina squeezes your hand. “Good. That means I’ve got time to win you back properly.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Properly? Is that code for elaborate gestures or more fake cat emergencies?”

She grins. “Oh no. I’m done lying. Next time I want to see you, I’m just gonna show up with coffee and a tragic playlist and say, ‘I’m still in love with you, please let me in.’”

You snort. “That sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah, well,” she says, tugging you closer until your forehead brushes hers, “so is losing you again.”

And when you finally lean in, kissing her like you mean it this time no confusion, no fear. Miso lets out the most offended meow imaginable and storms off the bed like she wasn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

#aespa x reader #aespa fluff #aespa x fem reader #aespa #aespa fanfic #aespa fic #aespa x you #aespa karina #karina x reader #karina x you #karina fluff #karina fanfic #yu jimin #aespa karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin x you

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alwaysanundertone · 6 months ago

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@randomcreator-09 thank you for the request! I did my best even though this isn't something I'm too familiar with, but I tried! Hope you'll enjoy it

Day 27: breeding kink | Remus Lupin

smut

TW: breeding kink, piv, nipple play

You didn’t know what was happening to your boyfriend lately, but he was… unhinged.

On Monday, you were going to class when you were snatched into a corner of the hallway, Remus’s hands all over you, touching and groping anywhere he could reach. This wasn’t something you were used to, your boyfriend usually being more discreet in public. It was hot, of course it was when you were the centre of your boyfriend’s attention; still, you couldn’t help but be a bit alarmed by the sudden shift in his behaviour.

Then, on Wednesday he quite literally drag you out of potions class to fuck you in a bathroom, and it was then that it clicked: the blood moon was approaching.

Only a few months before Remus talked to you about his furry problem and about how much he hated not being in control of his actions under the moon’s influence. After that, you read all about the moon’s phases, you studied in the library on every book you could find, and you stood by his side during that time of the month.

This time, though, it was a bit different. You knew that the blood moon could cause some changes you weren’t used to, you thought Remus would become more possessive, you didn’t even think about the sexual part.

So, now that you were in his bedroom and he was quite literally reducing your clothes to shreds, you couldn’t help to be a bit excited about the changes that you were about to see.

“Gonna make you feel so” He groaned, interrupting himself, his hands gripping your hips to the point of bruising. “Good you won’t be able to think about anything else”

You moaned as he connected his lips to your neck, sucking harshly, marking you. He lowered himself as his mouth connected to your tits, his hips rutting against your naked core, making you shiver. He nipped at the supple skin, then licking over the mark to soothe you. You whimpered as he sucked at your nipples, the stimulation going straight to your core, which was now leaving an embarrassing wet stain on Remus’s grey boxers.

He followed your gaze, chuckling darkly when he saw the splotch. “Look at the mess you made, you’re so needy”

With one swift motion his boxers were off, and he was now hovering over you. His eyes were hyper focused on your every movement, but most importantly, it was like something changed inside of him. Looking into his eyes, you didn’t see his usual soft gaze, there was something more primal in it, it was like your Remus was somewhere else.

You cradled his cheeks with your hands, he sighed, closing his eyes.

“I love you” He smiled softly at that, pecking your lips.

“I love you more”

Then, the sweet moment was gone as he spread your legs, his hands securing them on both sides of his waist. With one, deep thrust he entered you. He didn’t give you time to adjust, he was immediately rutting inside of you at a fast pace, your tits bouncing, almost hurting you.

He gripped one of your thighs, throwing one of your knees on his shoulder, the new angle making you whimper. “Yes, that’s it love, tell me how good I can make you feel”

He lowered his lips on your neck once again, you knew that you’d be waking up with a bruised neck. The hand that wasn’t holding your leg flew to your clit, rubbing it harshly, making you gasp.

“Remus… Slow… Down” You panted, back arched as you tried to hold back the obscene moans that were begging to fly out of your mouth.

He slapped your pussy, a burning sensation immediately adding to your wetness. “You will take what I will give you” He thrusted inside of you once again, this time hitting your G-spot, making you gasp. He smiled. “Yeah, there it is.”

He intensified the pressure on your clit, and in no time you were coming all over his dick. You clenched around him, making him groan. He picked up hi speed once again. “Gonna fill you with my babies, love” You moaned, him grinning down at you. “You’d like that, don’t you?”

Your clit felt raw as he kept on rubbing on it, your head spinning with all the stimulation you were enduring, his words only making you wetter. “Remus, please, I can’t”

“You will” He pressed down on your lower belly, rutting into you, and you couldn’t help but come as he filled you with his seed.

He stood on his forearms, caging you in while he tried to catch his breath, his forehead shining with sweat. After a bit, he kissed your forehead, cooing when you whimpered as he pulled out.

As his seed flowed out of you, he pushed it back in, making you shiver. He slowly rolled up your panties, kissing just above your mons Venus, smiling up at you.

“Can’t wait until you’re all full with my babies”

You sighed, reaching down to scratch his head. Even though you both knew that it was nearly impossible, given the fact that you were on the pill, you couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of a life with Remus and your kids.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

#kinktober 2024 #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fiction #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader

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syrenqin · 2 months ago

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Other Professions I think the LADS LIs would have in this world~ Headcanons

Caleb -> Firefighter

He acts before he thinks when lives are on the line. -Always the first to rush into danger without hesitation.

Won the hottest body award multiple times in a single calendar year.

The type to joke around at the fire station but flips into serious mode the moment an alarm goes off.

Sleeps through anything except the sound of an emergency siren.

Has a soft spot for kids—especially the ones he’s saved. Checks up on them whenever he can. "How you doin', squirt?"

Knows every hole in the wall 24/7 diner, and the good ones at that, because of his late-night shifts.

Gives the best hugs—big, warm, and comforting like he’s shielding you from the world.

He smells like smoke and faint deodorant and home.

Xavier -> Personal Tutor

He never carries a backpack, just a notebook and a single pen. And yet, he somehow always has everything he needs.

Explains math problems like it’s the easiest thing in the world—"the exponential curve goes whoosh and the parabolic curve goes whiissh, honestly, what don't you get about this?"

Shows up to your study sessions five minutes late every time but always has some dumb excuse like, “Had to save a cat. The cat was imaginary, but the effort was real.”

The kind of guy who’s equally comfortable helping you ace your history test and giving you life advice like he’s some omniscient philosopher. (He is, perhaps)

Has a habit of flipping his pen between his fingers when he’s explaining something. You like staring at that.

Sometimes falls asleep when you're in the middle of the 100 problem set he made for you. You like twirling his hair between your fingers.

Sylus -> Ethical(?) Hacker

You wake up to find your phone’s lock screen changed. "Use Face ID. Too many fingerprints leave a trace."

You once changed his Netflix password after a fight. The next day, your Wi-Fi stopped working… only for you.

"Who’s this guy texting you?" "My coworker—wait, why?" "Just curious" The next day, your coworker tells you: "You'll never guess but my Linkedin got hacked and someone posted furry p0rn on it."

Instead of sweet texts, you get encrypted messages that only you can decipher.

Every year, Sylus is invited to speak at prestigious cybersecurity conferences worldwide. He never uses slides; he prefers to tell enigmatic, captivating stories instead. People tune in for his voice.

“Hold on, I’ll prove my point with some hard data.” In minutes, he’ll pull up research, evidence, and well-constructed arguments. When he’s done, you can’t help but admire his logical skills.

He has backups for backups. “Did you think I wasn’t prepared?”

You started to realize that no matter what happens, Sylus has a solution. It’s a comforting.

Zayne -> Personal Assistant

Has an alarm for everything—meetings, calls, birthdays, even “reminder to drink water.”

Somehow keeps your life together but is a complete mess in his personal life. Gets IBS from eating too much sugary stuff, and you convince him to take a week off to get back on a healthy diet.

Can book a flight, get a last-minute reservation, and solve a PR crisis all before 10 AM. Has a color-coded planner that looks chaotic to everyone else but makes perfect sense to him.

Is so good at anticipating problems that he fixes them before anyone notices.

Dressed to perfection every day—meaning, he has the same 2 outfits in multiple colors. The outfits that you told him look good on him.

The only one who can sass you and lecture you without getting fired.

Sometimes you pull his cheek while he's in the middle of reading your schedule to you and he jumps like a scared cat.

Rafayel -> Fashion Designer

Always dressed like he walked straight off a runway, even when he’s “dressed casually.”

Has zero patience for bad fashion choices—“Burn that blouse. I’ll make you a new one.”

Obsessed with details—he’ll notice a loose thread on your sleeve from ten feet away. His workspace is an organized mess—sketches, fabric swatches, coffee cups, but he knows exactly where everything is.

Can and will sketch an entire outfit on a napkin in less than a minute.

Dramatic in the best way—throws fabric over mannequins like an artist throwing paint on a canvas. Gets his best design ideas in the 2-hour baths he takes.

No one has ever seen him rush. He moves at his own pace and somehow, things always work out perfectly.

Has already designed your perfect dress for your engagement, wedding, first anniversary, next 50 anniversaries...

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zylev-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Danny has a new rogue. The man is going by the name of Freakshow, but most of the whispers he’s heard have labeled him as the Joker. The Joker pings as a liminal, so Danny has been trying to find him. Problem is, the Joker doesn’t stay in Amity Park. The man is mobile, and the more Danny leaves Amity Park, the more he’s hunted by the GIW. This makes it harder to hunt the man, but he knows that Joker is dangerous. Unstable.

And he really hates clowns.

He’s chasing the Joker through New Jersey when a red blur knocks into him and drags him away from the Joker. He has enough sense left to realize he’s being moved in superspeed before he’s head butting the man holding him and turning intangible out of his arms. He hears the man in red groan and hold his bleeding nose.

“Wait.” The man in red pants, “The Joker is dangerous.”

“I know he is.” Danny tells him, “That’s why I’m taking him down.”

“You’re not working with him?” A man in black asks.

“What? No!” He gestured to himself, “I don’t have this getup because of him, you know. I’m a dead kid. A ghost. He’s messing with the living while carrying traces of the dead, and that’s wrong, you know? Once you kill so many people, it offends the dead and we have to intervene. Once you pass that point, the dead takes your soul. He’s already on his way there.”

“You don’t look dead.” The man in black says while the man in red looks away from him.

“Yeah? And you look like a bat. You don’t have room to talk when you look like a furry.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m Flash and this is Batman.” Flash introduced himself and his partner, “We and the Joker are from another dimension. We’re trying to take Joker down before he merges our dimensions and takes over both of them.”

“Ugh, not more interdimensional bullshit.” Danny swears. “You can call me Phantom, by the way.”

“You don’t seem suprised about this.” Batman prompts.

“Yknow, after the fifth attempt at interdimensional war you get used to it. This dimension has the most… uh, what did they call it? Oomph? I think it means like, this is the most powerful dimension out of all of them. It doesn’t take long for us to kick them back where they belong. But this Joker dude, he’s persistent.” Danny shrugged.

“I know Joker the best.” Batman told him.

“As long as Joker ends up back in his dimension before he merges ours.” He grimaced. “Been there done that once, it wasn’t pretty to undo. It nearly destroyed both of our dimensions, but some things aren’t supposed to be merged.”

“To work together, we need to know what you can do.” Flash glanced at Batman.

“Do you want a list?”

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc writing prompt #dp dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dp crossover #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #danny is ghost king #ghost king danny phantom #flash batman and joker are in the dp universe #danny is so done

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blueberrybirdsworld · 13 days ago

Text

The Cat Distribution System 3/5

Summary:

When a stray kitten adopts Lando Norris, the self-proclaimed cat hater accidentally starts a soft-launch spiral with his secret girlfriend the ballerina Ariana Riverria.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, SMAU

Warning : none, just yeah the kitten will be different in some pictures

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

CHAPTER THREE :

Lando came straight from the airport, suitcase still half-zipped and hair a mess under his hoodie, but none of that mattered the second he walked through Ariana’s apartment door.

Because Charlie came sprinting.

“Hey, little gremlin,” Lando grinned, dropping his bag and scooping the ginger kitten into his arms like he hadn’t just been gone for a week. Charlie immediately nuzzled under his chin, purring like a jet engine.

Ariana stood in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

“Hi to you too,” she said flatly.

Lando looked up. “Oh, hey, baby.”

“You cuddled the cat before your girlfriend.”

He plopped down onto the couch, Charlie still glued to his chest like a furry magnet. “He missed me. He told me. With his eyes.”

Ariana padded over in her fuzzy socks, climbing beside him with a mock pout. “I missed you too. But sure, let’s prioritize the four-pound fluff ball.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Lando teased, leaning in for a quick kiss—careful not to disturb Charlie’s position, of course.

“Mmmhmm.” Ariana settled beside him, watching Charlie stretch and promptly curl back up in Lando’s lap. “You’ve changed.”

“How so?”

“You used to talk about getting a dog named Charlie. Now look at you.” She gestured at the kitten. “This is your son now.”

“Look, I didn’t choose the cat life,” Lando said dramatically. “The cat life chose me.”

Ariana snorted. “More like you got emotionally blackmailed by toe beans and tiny sneezes.”

“…You weren’t supposed to say that out loud.”

They both looked down at the kitten snoozing peacefully between them.

Right on cue, Aria—Ariana’s majestic white cat—jumped lightly onto the couch, making a beeline for Charlie. With a regal air, she sniffed him, gave him a light headbutt, and proceeded to curl around him like a living blanket.

“She’s adopted him,” Ariana whispered, watching the two cats nestle into one another.

“Guess we’re stuck with two cats now,” Lando murmured, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

Ariana leaned her head on his shoulder, lips brushing his collarbone. “Honestly? I kind of love it.”

Lando smiled down at the sleeping fur pile. “Yeah. Me too.”

@landonorris

"you think he can come to podiums too? asking for a friend."

@maxfewtrell: is this permanent?? is the kitten a full-time team member now??

@oscarpiastri: i’m concerned and also emotionally invested

@charles_leclerc: does he need a seat for the team briefings?

@f1spygirls: not lando planning his life around a kitten now 😭

@catsoftiktok: we love a proud cat dad

@arianasribbons: i swear to god this is the same kitten that was cuddling ariana's white cat weeks ago

@arianariverria

"house is no longer mine. i live under feline rule."

@pliésballet: WHY ARE THEY ALWAYS TOGETHER NOW

@kitteninfirst: aria has literally adopted him i’m crying

@balletxpitlane: are they dating or are the cats dating?? at this point idk

@pietra: the cat co-parenting is real

@softverstappen: this is how we piece things together and i feel ALIVE

But what really set everything off was a clip from a post-race press conference. It was a short interview, nothing out of the ordinary—until it wasn’t.

The question came from the third row.

JOURNALIST:

"Lando, there’s a lot of talk online about you adopting a kitten. Is it true? Weren’t you famously anti-cat?"

Lando chuckled, clearly caught off-guard, but not rattled.

LANDO:

"Yeah, well... things change. He found me, actually. I didn’t choose the cat life, the cat life chose me. I named him Charlie."

He grinned at the laughter in the room. A few seats down, Carlos raised an eyebrow.

CARLOS:

"You like cats now, huh? Just cats?"

Lando:

"Don’t start, man."

CHARLES:

"That kitten has better PR than some of us."

LANDO:

"He deserves it. He’s cute."

The internet, naturally, exploded.

Twitter Thread by @f1slashballet:

[1] OKAY this press conference is the most accidentally revealing thing I’ve ever seen.

[2] Not Carlos throwing shade with that "just cats" line 😭

[3] Charles literally dragged his whole PR team to the grave in one sentence

[4] AND LANDO DIDN’T DENY A SINGLE THING. He said the cat found him. The cat. AKA Charlie. AKA Ariana’s kitten-in-law

[5] And then there's this frame-by-frame comparison: hoodie match. Couch pillow match. Cat pattern match. Everything matches.

@balletzone: the men are messy and i support them @chaosandchoreo: charlie the kitten is the main character and everyone else is just background @catdadconfirmed: love changed him. and a kitten sealed the deal

@landonorris insta story (deleted)

"Okay maybe i like all cats now."

The story was gone within minutes.

Deleted.

But not fast enough.

Fans immediately recognized the white cat as Aria—Ariana's famously elegant companion. Screenshots spread like wildfire.

Twitter Comments:

@balletxgrid: THAT'S ARIANA'S CAT. AND THE CAT IS NAMED ARIA. I NEED A MOMENT.

@chaoticpolecat: why is he deleting stories now???? BE LOUD

@slowmo_softlaunch: i’m so sorry but they literally adopted a kitten together didn’t they

@f1cryptic: this is the softest rollout i have ever witnessed

@teafortwo: charlie + aria = chariana canon

Back at Ariana’s apartment, the cats were curled up together on the windowsill.

Aria had started grooming Charlie’s ears lately, and Charlie followed her around like a shadow. It was ridiculously wholesome.

And maybe, just maybe, Ariana was finally starting to understand why Lando had fallen so hard, so fast for this little kitten.

Even if she still had to fight for cuddles when Charlie was in the room.

It wasn’t just co-parenting anymore.

It was... something else.

Part 4

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist !

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yan-lorkai · 1 month ago

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Hi✨ I want to request something. What if all the main cast are yandere, except the first years and Grim? So now they have to protect their magicless friend from all the yandere boys. If it's too much, just ignore it. Thank you💕

The atmosphere in Night Raven College had become suffocating. You couldn’t quite pinpoint when things had changed, but it was undeniable. Everywhere you turned, the once-friendly interactions with your upperclassmen had taken on an unnerving intensity. Smiles lingered too long, casual touches felt possessive, and their gazes…

It was as though they were trying to burn themselves into your very soul.

You weren’t alone in noticing the shift. The first years — Ace, Deuce, Jack, Sebek, and Epel — had caught on quickly. While they were used to your popularity with the older students, the current obsession was unsettling. It wasn’t just admiration or fondness anymore. It was dangerous.

---

Ace and Deuce were the first to intervene.

"Listen," Ace said one evening as the two of you sat in Ramshackle’s lounge, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Something’s seriously wrong with those guys. They’re all over you like... Um, like vultures."

Deuce nodded firmly, his brows furrowed. "We’re not going to let them corner you. If they try anything, we’ll deal with it. Right, Ace?"

"Obviously," Ace replied, crossing his arms. "We’re your first line of defense. No way we’re letting them take you away from us."

Their words reassured you, but the anxiety gnawed at the edges of your mind. If even your closest friends felt the need to protect you, how bad had things gotten? And why things turned out to be this way?

You weren’t sad here, by all means, even if sometimes you missed your old world, but this relentless chasing was tiring you out. Sometimes you could feel their eyes in you, as if you were a prize.

You could feel it when you were playing hide and seek with the Adeuce duo. A piercing gaze that made you shiver and tremble, as if death was upon you, as if its invisible fingers would pull you into its arms and nobody would miss you.

"Oi, nothin's gonna happen." Grim howled loud enough that your ears were ringing. But in that moment, that didn't annoyed you, not when he bumped his furry head with yours and nuzzled into your chest.

Deuce served more tea and Ace brought another loaf of bread and cheese to the table. They were silent after this.

"If those weirdoes get too close, I’ll toast ‘em!" he declared, puffing out his chest. "Yer my minion, and I ain’t sharin’ ya with nobody!"

And you too were silent, even if your head was messy with thoughts and feelings.

---

Jack was next to join the effort.

"You shouldn’t walk around campus alone," he said one day, falling into step beside you. His tail swished anxiously as he glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning for potential threats - searching for Leona, Rook or Malleus, as they were the most powerful mages in his opinion.

Or Jamil, Idia and Cater, he thought. Or Riddle, Vil and Azul, he added.

"They’ve been following you. I’ve seen it. If anything happens, just stay close to me."

His protective instincts were a relief, though you hated the idea of relying on your friends to keep you safe. Still, Jack’s presence was grounding, his silent determination giving you a sense of security, as you walked without letting your anxiety show. At least, you hoped so.

"It's a nightmare." You whisper to him. And his ears notably twitch at that. "I wanted that to end. To go back the way it was before."

"I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say. He was sorry because he couldn't help further, couldn't beat some sense into his upperclassmen, couldn't stop all of them.

He was so sorry.

---

Epel, usually shy about voicing his thoughts, surprised you with his boldness.

"Those guys are outta control," he said, frowning as he helped you carry a stack of books to the library. "They’re treating you like… I dunno, a prize or somethin’. It ain’t right. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what."

You couldn’t help but smile at his resolve, though his words only deepened your unease. Things were getting worse. Clothes went missing, door opening and closing at night, the sound of steps and whispers, a laughing.

You couldn't close your eyes the past night, waiting for something, for anything to happen. It didn't. Sometimes, it seems they were tiring you out first, waiting for the perfect moment to sweept in when you wouldn't have strength left to fight and take you.

"I hope you can punch hard enough to break some teeth." Is all you can say before you're falling asleep on his shoulders, the sun kissing you just the right way as you feel Epel wrap his arm around your shoulder to secure you won't stumble.

"Ya betcha I can."

---

Sebek, ever the loud and loyal protector, was the most vocal.

"Those fiends dare to covet you?! It’s an insult to your dignity!" he declared one evening, practically vibrating with righteous fury as he swinged his sworld around. "Fear not, human! I, Sebek Zigvolt, shall ensure no harm befalls you! My loyalty knows no bounds!"

You were grateful for his enthusiasm, but his constant yelling often attracted unwanted attention from the very people you were trying to avoid. You could feel their smiles, their eyes on you, their whispers and laughs. You hate it.

Above all, you regret being their friend.

Regret having sleepovers.

Regret having shared with them stories and songs and memes, and everything else from your world.

Regret trying to fix them, overblot after overblot.

You give Sebek a look before reaching for his hand to run from them and their stare that made you feel like prey.

---

Through it all, your first-year friends remained steadfast, their loyalty unwavering as they fought to keep you safe. It wasn’t easy, and every day felt like a battle. They accompanied you everywhere, taking turns escorting you to classes, meals, and even back to Ramshackle at night.

But as long as they were by your side, you held onto hope that you could survive the suffocating obsession of the upperclassmen — together.

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #ace x mc #ace x yuu #ace x reader #deuce x mc #deuce x yuu #deuce x reader #epel x mc #epel x yuu #epel x reader #sebek x yuu #sebek x reader #sebek x mc #tw yandere

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blessedbyahuntress · 5 months ago

Text

Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Three: My King Almost Decapitates a Cute, Fuzzy, Helpful Little Thing

Prev/Next

Warnings: None, really

Word Count: 1.31k

Listen to: Open Arms

You scowled and huffed in annoyance, pushing the plant life out of your path.

You tripped over a tree root, and before you could fall unceremoniously to the dusty ground, Polites reached out and grabbed the straps of your armor to steady you.

“Thanks,” you said grudgingly. Polites’s hand was still on the straps of your armor, and you gave him a grin. “You can let go now.”

“Oh.” Polites felt heat rising to his cheeks as he quickly released his grip. He thanked the gods that he had his helmet so you couldn’t see his flushed face. Little did he know that you were blushing as well.

The second time you tripped, Polites stopped you before you could fall again. He seemed to be hovering, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself.

This time, when you straightened, you ended up nose to nose with your friend. You felt your heart beat faster and your eyes widened slightly.

Polites took a step back and took the hand he had been using to grasp your shoulder with him. Only then did he realize that you had been as stiff as a board.

Odysseus glanced at the two blushing messes behind him over his shoulder. “I don’t know if this has occurred to you two lovebirds,” he grumped. “But we need to find enough food to feed six hundred men. We don’t have time to waste.”

Polites watched as you ran to catch up with the captain and sighed, moving after you, just more slowly.

“You can relax, my friends,” he said.

“Huh?” Odysseus asked, looking back at Polites.

“I can tell you’re getting nervous, so do yourself a service. And try to relax, my friends.” Polites pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose as you all pushed further into the dense forest.

“I’m fine, Polites,” you tried to assure him.

But he continued, “think of all that we have been through. We’ll survive what we get into.”

Odysseus led you into a clearing with a running stream snaking through it, and as you crouched to refill Eurylochus’s flask, Polites plopped himself down beside you, Odysseus on your other side, sharpening his blade.

“I know you’re tired of the war and bloodshed. Tell me, is this how we’re supposed to live? Look at how you grip your sword, enough said. Why should we take when we could give?”

You realized that Polites had a vague outline of a point, but that wasn’t quite enough to get you to relax. Neither did Odysseus, who was still gripping his sword so hard his knuckles were turning white.

“You can show a person that you trust them.” Polites nudged your shoulder with his, letting you know that his next words were meant mostly for you. “When you stop and lower your guard. Here we have a chance for some adjustment. Give it a try, it’s not that hard.”

He stood and offered you his hand, eyes staring deep into yours. “I’m telling you, this life is amazing, when you greet it with open arms. Whatever we face, we’ll be fine if we’re leading from the heart.”

You considered his words for a moment before grabbing his hand. He hoisted you to your feet, still saying, “No matter the place, we can light up the world. Here's how to start.” He took both of your hands in his and continued, “greet the world with open arms. Greet the world with open arms.”

“Welcome.”

Odysseus instantly shot to his feet, sword still in hand. He pointed it at the speaker, a-

Small, cute, furry, thing?

The innocence of the little thing didn’t seem to deter Odysseus. He kept his sword pointed at the fuzzy animal. “Stay back,” he growled.

“Stay back,” the animal repeated. The forest behind it rustled, and more of the little creatures, looking almost identical to the first one, peeked out.

“My friend,” Polites said, placing a gentle hand on Odysseus’s sword, making it point lower. “Greet the world with open arms.”

“We’re only here for food,” Odysseus announced, shaking off Polites.

“Food,” the animals echoed.

“Six hundred friends are waiting for us to show our faces,” Odysseus claimed.

“Food,” the little creatures said again.

“Stay back, I’m warning you.” The captain positioned you behind Polites, earning him a glare from both of you.

“Food.”

“If we don’t get back safely, my men will turn this place into blazes,” Odysseus threatened.

The first fuzzy animal held out a bowl filled with purple fruit, looking up at you with mesmerizing eyes. “Here you go.”

You stepped out from behind Polities, watching his face light up as he took the bowl. “See?” He said, turning to you and Odysseus. “This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms. Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart. No matter the place, we can light up the world. Here's how to start.” He tossed a fruit to you and you inspected it carefully.

Polites watched you eagerly as you split open the fruit. “Greet the world with open arms,” he said again. “Greet the world with… open arms…” You echoed.

It was worth it to see his smile brighten even more, but Odysseus took one half of the fruit from your hands and studied it. You watched his face darken with realization.

“My friend, I wish that I could say that I agree. But look at the way this fruit is glowing

and filled with glowing seeds. It took me a while to notice just what kind of fruit they eat. It's a lotus, it controls your mind and never lets you free.” Your own expression turned rather dark as Odysseus shoved his half of the fruit into Polites’s hands, much harsher than necessary.

“That’s what we’d get with open arms,” the captain snarled, stalking away.

You put a reassuring hand on Polites’s shoulder and squeezed slightly until he looked up at you.

“Hey,” you said gently. “Maybe there’s… another option?”

Polites’s eyes lit up at the prospect and you smiled in return. He turned to the lotus eaters and opened his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“Lotus eaters,” you began. “We appreciate your kindness, and we apologize for our captain’s rudeness. He’s under a lot of stress at the moment.” You gestured to where Odysseus was sulking.

Polites stepped forward. “Lotus eaters, we’d like to show our friend that kindness is brave. Could you tell us where there’s other food to eat?”

The Lotus Eaters looked up at you, and the lead one motioned for you to approach.

You knelt down to its height and it whispered in your ear, “scary cave.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Scary?” You asked slowly.

“Scary,” the Lotus Eater repeated in a solemn tone before stepping away.

“And where do we sail to find this food-filled cave?” You questioned.

“East. That way.” The Lotus Eaters all pointed in one direction in unison, the direction which you think you can safely assume is east.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Welcome,” they responded.

Polites grabbed your hand and led you to where Odysseus stood, much like he had done earlier on the ship.

He spun you around, laughing. “This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms.” Polites’s attention turned to Odysseus. “I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart.” You came to a stop, arm slung over Polites’s shoulders as he continued speaking softly to the captain. “So why not replace it and light up the world? Here’s how to start.”

He offered Odysseus a new lotus fruit. “Greet the world with open arms. Greet the world with open arms.”

You could barely hear it, but you could’ve sworn you heard Odysseus say, “greet the world with open arms.”

Polites smiled at you. “You can relax, my friends.”

#epic odysseus #epic the troy saga #eurylochus #epic musical #epic the musical #blessed by a trickster #troy saga #open arms #polites #polites x reader #lotus eaters

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months ago

Note

THE RRAMSHACKLE GHOSTS COUNTING SS YUU AND GRIMS FAMILY FOR FAMILY DAY IS SO CUTE AGH

If its allowed can i request yuu and grim learning the ghosts are counted as their guardians,,, maybe feeling abit left out cuz everyone has someone and Crowley appears with for ONCE genuine kinda fun news with ghosts in tow....

[Referencing this interaction!]

dhjsbskwkwidk I’m not actually taking new NRC Family Day requests, I’m just finishing up the ones I had in my inbox so I can finally compile a masterlist 😭 But!! I happen to like the idea of the Ramshackle Ghosts as being part of Yuu’s family so I’ll make an exception this time.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

You sat on upon a stone sill and looked out at the courtyard. It was swarming with people, far more than you’d see on campus on a regular school day. Students and staff were present, but now there were also parents, guardians, siblings, and extended relatives.

Young children wobbling on unsteady feet, some carried by an older family member—some so young they needed to be strapped to a chest or back, or pushed in a stroller. Elder brothers and sisters gawking at the buildings but never straying too far from their flock. Adults chattering or smoothing out hair, adjusting clothes.

Guardians for their sons, their cousins, their brothers, their nephews, their grandsons.

The mages of tomorrow.

Everyone looks so happy.

So many people around, and yet you had never felt more alone in your entire life.

Everyone has someone… but not us.

The space beside you suddenly felt very, very empty. Like someone should be there, filling it—but wasn’t. Your family was in another world entirely.

Your chest constricted. It was hard to breathe, and it seemed that the room was pounding rather than your heart.

Taking in a shaky gulp of air, you swallowed your sadness and ran a hand through Grim’s grey fur. He had taken a bath in the morning (“The great Grim-sama’s gotta look extra snazzy for Family Day!”), so he was extra fluffy. The softness set your nerves at easy, if only temporarily.

“… Minion? You okay?” Grim asked, gently nudging a paw against your cheek. Concern swam in his big blue eyes.

“I’m fine,” you replied, your tone a little deflated. You’d been telling yourself that for the past several hours. A mantra to maintain composure—but you weren’t sure how effective it was.

“You’re not lettin’ dumb thoughts like ‘I’m lonely’ get to you, are ya? Cuz you’re all good with the great Grim-sama here—so c’mon, lemme see my minion smile!”

“Silly kitty. You’re right, you’re my family.” You lifted him off of your shoulders and snuggled Grim against you, rubbing your nose against his.

“My, am I interrupting something, Prefect?” a jolly voice called out from behind you.

You almost dropped Grim from shock. He flailed his furry limbs, and you caught him, setting him down in your lap.“W-Whoa, headmaster?! Where’d you appear from?!”

“A man has his ways!” he chuckled—vague as always. His feathery cloak shifted like shadows as he approached, his cane tap-tap-tapping with each step. “Now then, I have come with some exciting news for you and Grim-kun.”

You eyed him warily. “It’s not another errand or chore, is it…?”

"On Family Day? Certainly not! How unkind do you think me to be?!" Crowley huffed. "No, I assure you that this surprise is one that you will enjoy."

He snapped, and at his signal, three familiar ghostly forms appeared before you. A, B, and C encircled you, arms linked with one another, in a happy ring of cackles. You tried to follow them around and around, but it only resulted in a dizziness in your head.

"Myah?! It's the Ramshackle Ghosts!!"

"What are you guys doing here?"

"The headmaster," the ghosts chorused, "it's all the headmaster's doing."

"They are the surprise," Crowley explained. "Rejoice--for, by the power of my grace and magnanimity, I have made the executive decision to allow them to be present as Prefect and Grim-kun's family!"

"But why?" Your question was quiet, stifled by disbelief. "Why would you..."

"Why?" Crowley said the word as though it belonged to a foreign language. "I have been an educational authority for far longer than you realize--and in all my years of teaching, I know that no child likes to be left behind. Students must keep their morale up if they wish to do well in..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

You sat Grim on the floor and flew at the headmaster--fazing through the ghosts. Wrapping your arms around Crowley, you locked him in an embrace. He was stiff at first, but quickly adapted, relaxing and returning the hug.

"... Thanks, headmaster," you muttered, tears prickling in your eyes. "You really can be... so very kind sometimes."

"You express your gratitude in such strong ways," he mused, a clawed hand on the back of your head, stroking absentmindedly. The gesture was oddly comforting, in spite of the several (several) recollections you had of his less-than-fatherly behavior.

"Aww, ain't that sweet," Ghost A gushed.

"I guess the headmaster counts as part of Prefect's family too."

"Maybe he can be the weird uncle," C suggested.

"Eeeeeh, but I don't wanna be related to Crowley," Grim protested, stomping a hind paw. "Our extended family SUCKS!"

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