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sterekmylove · 3 months

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Red Fabric {Young Sterek}

Your prompt: Person B lends their sweater to Person A. When Person A is home, they realize they still have Person B's sweater and find Person B's iPod. Out of curiosity, Person A looks through Person B's music and finds a playlist titled with Person A's name.

P: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski

Age: 18 & 19

A/N: I forgot to post it here.

—

“Dude… just take the damn sweater! Stop being stubborn” Stiles groans as he tried to shove his sweater into Derek's hands, the sick omega

Refusing his friend's request. They've been repeating this little argument since Derek first walked into History, taking a seat next to Stiles and dropping his head onto the table ignoring Mr. Harris words to pick up his head, and that it wasn't nap time. Derek hadn't picked up his head, instead, he made a sound that nearly sounded like a growl. The sound even caught Scott's attention, looking away from Allison to look toward the Omega who sat one row ahead. Stiles kept his eyes down on his notations scribbling away— adding in extra for Derek later. He kept his voice low so Mr. Harris didn't try to give him detention for the simple fact that he spoke.

“Are you okay?” the lanky teenager asked in a low voice. Derek had hummed in response. Not good enough.

“Der” Stiles tried again.

Derek let out a raspy breath shifting his head against the desk to peak towards Stiles, the brunette doing the same— side-eyeing the werewolf. The omega looked like hell, his tan skin was paler— Stiles couldn't even blame that on the season— the cool air in the room being a reminder of the freezing cold outside that is known as winter.

“ ‘mm fine” he mumbles in response.

Stiles snorts, keeping his eyes on the paper. Bullshit.

“Something funny Mr. Stilinski?” Mr. Harris questions

Stiles glanced up at the teacher with a pen in his mouth— when did he get it there? Stiles glances around the room to see everyone looking at him— facing his attention back on the teacher.

“Uh—” the pen drops from his mouth, making a sound against the table— he looks down then back up real quick to do a one-over when his brain comes to a halt.

“Um… no?”

“Then why did you snort?”

“Cause I farted— what else?” He asked his expression mocking a duh look mixed with ‘are you stupid?’ Look.

Derek made a low strangled sound. Scott covered his mouth while ducking his head. Stiles twisted in his seat to turn and look at Allison who was sitting with Scott and behind Stiles.

“Forgive me Ms. Argent for passing gas, is that nose okay?” Stiles asks dramatically.

Allison pressed her lips together trying her best to hide her smile as she just nodded at Stiles. Stiles smiles brightly, turning back to the teacher. Mr. Harris stares at Stiles then sighs— deciding not to argue with the lanky boy today.

For once.

Now, back to what’s wrong with the sourwolf.

Stiles found out in second period Art what was wrong with his friend.

“Sick? you’re sick. How the—.”

“Breathe Bambi,” Derek declared as his hand moved in strokes on the canvas.

Stiles takes a second or two to breathe and then speak.

“I thought werewolves couldn't get sick?”

“Bitten one can't, born can. We're still Humans Stiles, just grow extra hair on a full moon” Derek spoke in a low tone.

Was— did he— did Derek unintentionally make a joke to Stiles on the last part? nevermind that he'll go back to that later.

“But how— dude are you—”

“Stiles what are you—” The back of Stiles's hand touches the omega's cheek, Derek's droopy eyes widening a bit at the contact of Stiles's cool skin against his face. Before the sick wolf can even consider leaning into the touch of Stiles' warmth— which he will blame on his sickness— Stiles pulls away.

“Dude— you're cold, you, Derek Hale who is usually built like a real-life heater are cold!” Stiles stresses out, Derek didn't need to look at the lanky teen to see what type of face he was making.

“Take my—”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Derek—”

“Stiles.”

“My sweater is better!”

“No, I'm already wearing my leather jacket” Derek declines, pushing down the feeling of accepting the human request— the excuse of Derek wearing his close friend's sweater and smelling his scent for the rest of the day was tempting– but he wasn't going to. He was sick, those little ticks were all a part of his cold.

The want to lean into the cool touch, the want to accept the sweater, the want to be even closer to Stiles and bury his face deep into his friend's neck and take in his scent till his mind is dizzy with the smell of Stiles.

Roasted hazelnuts with the lingering smell of black coffee and medication—Adderall.

“And clearly it's not keeping you warm enough if you caught a cold Derek”

—

Which leads to now— they were in third-period gym playing dodgeball, Derek weak on his feet— stubborn and very human Stiles still arguing with the Hale boy over his sweater as balls were being thrown at them.

“Come on—“

“Duck!”

Stiles dodges barely fast enough from the flying ball that hit the wall hard, Derek glares at the culprit that threw the ball— Tyler Johnson.

“Johnson!” He barks picking up one of the red balls that landed by his feet throwing it towards the brunette hitting him in the stomach making the other teen wheeze sinking to his feet, Stiles winches at the site.

“Derek—.” Derek grabs Stiles by the front of his shirt yanking him towards himself— making the lanky human not get hit by a ball.

“Stiles focus—.”

“Take my sweater and I will!”

“Stiles it’s cold outside-.”

“I’ll wear your leather jacket— just take the damn sweater you stubborn—.”

Bonk!

A ball gently hits Stiles in the head, the pale teen blinks a couple of times. Staring— staring at Derek who had pulled him close to him with a ball in his hand and with enough force hit him in the forehead with it. Stiles looked at the omega as if he committed a crime, his mouth opening and closing— Derek catching a ball before it hit him in the face.

“Did you—“

Derek gives him the famous Hale smirk.

“Got to sit down Stilinski”

Stiles gasp, then looked over to Scott who just shrugged his shoulders.

“You little…”

“Go.”

Was that even allowed!?.

—

“I look stupid” Derek mumbled as he tugged at the red fabric that hugged his body, Stiles' sweater was loose but also fitted tight around the werewolf’s sick frame. He wore the cuffs of the sleeves over his palms looking down as the two walked down the hall— Stiles fixing Derek’s leather jacket around his body, patting the pockets filling his curiosity that can sometimes be dangerous.

“You look nice in red sourwolf I don’t see the reason to complain” Stiles says in a tone that can let anyone know he’s not paying attention to his words.

“That’s not— not that pocket Stiles”

Stiles stops his hand barely above the chest pocket looking at Derek while they walked down the hallway as the last bell rang.

“What’s in it?”

“Just don’t touch it”

Stiles nods moving his hand away shoving them in the pockets walking in silence.

—

Tags: @cowandcalf

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #sterek fics #young!sterek #young!derek hale #teen wolf fic

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astermath · 8 months

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hey aster, happy 1k!!! love your work and you fully deserve all the love💗💗

so i’m sending in a prompt from idiots to lovers (“you’re so cute.” “what did you just say?” “i said you look like a boot.”) for robin buckley because this literally SCREAMS her

aww tysm that’s so sweet, hope you enjoy and ty for sending in a request! <3

♡ aster's 1K celebration ♡

wc: 0.9K

tags: lovestruck robin, crushing, fem!reader (duh), just some pining lol, not rlly proofread! normal sized font below

Robin is a girl that tends to fall hopelessly in love. She can’t simply have a crush, or think someone is cute, no, she always falls head over heels, straight into a vat of hearts and sappy confessions.

And usually that’s fine, that works for her. Her crushes give her a reason to go to school, to get stuff done, to put extra effort into her appearance. But she tends to admire from a distance. She knows how much she talks, and how hard it is to stop talking too.

That’s why she usually just sticks to looking at you from a distance, cheek leaning against the palm of her hand as she daydreams about the dates you could go on. In the timeline where she musters up the courage to talk to you.

But it seems that the universe has other plans. The universe being your English teacher, and the plans being a duo project about a country of your choosing.

You couldn’t choose your groups, which you didn’t mind, you could work with just about anyone. You’re smart, you could probably do this whole thing by yourself.

But to Robin, this was a huge deal. She’d never even talked to you before, besides the one time she had to apologise for bumping into you in the hallway. She still dreams about that interaction.

And now she’s gone for embarrassingly daydreaming about you to sitting in your room, surrounded by books about Italy, writing down interesting facts and discussing the order of the presentation.

But her mind is only halfway there. It’s hard to focus on wine, Rome, and pasta when you’re sitting right in front of her like this. The sunlight coming through the window is hitting your skin just right, she can smell your perfume, and your PJ shorts are the cutest she’s ever seen.

“So, do you have anything to add, or can I start writing out my part of the presentation already?”

“You look so cute.” The words leave her lips before they can even register in her own brain. It’s like her body has decided it needs to tell you how adorable you look, without her mind being able to pull the brakes at all.

You look up, quirking an eyebrow, clearly confused by what you’ve heard. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“Ah! I, uh—“ She sits up straighter, her eyes averting to the papers scattered in front of her, cheeks tinging pink from embarrassment. She’s not great at coming up with excuses, but she doesn’t exactly have a choice right now.

“I said you uh… You look like a boot.”

Shit.

She could have slapped herself right then and there.

'Seriously, Buckley? A boot? That’s the best thing you could come up with? Not fruit, or something else nice?'

“Oh,” You look up, scratching the back of your neck for a moment. “Well, like a nice boot?”

“What qualifies as a nice boot?”

“I don’t know,” you smile, leaning backwards onto your hands. “I like cowboy boots. And gogo boots are cute too.”

“Huh. I see.” She tries not to make it seem like a big deal, but she enjoys learning small things like this about you.

A few moments pass, and she’s already got her nose shoved back into a book while you try to write down a good introduction.

“Did you actually have something to add though?” You ask, looking up from your paper.

“To the presentation?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I don‘t know.” She puts the book down, thinking it over for a moment. “Maybe that the word America comes from the Italian language?”

"Huh, seriously? That's really cool." You smile, and it makes the blood rush straight to her cheeks again. You're already noting it down under the 'fun facts' section of the presentation, your pen scribbling away as Robin tries to compose herself.

"Yeah, uh, Vespucci came up with it. Italian explorer." She fiddles with the bit of frayed fabric at the hem of her shirt to keep her hands busy.

"You're really smart, aren't you?" You flash her another smile, and she thinks it actually might kill her this time. There's no way someone could look this pretty.

"Oh, uhm... I-- I guess." She chuckles bashfully. "You're pretty smart too, though. You always know the answers to like, every question in class. Even though you never raise your hand."

You grin, knowing damn well that's out of pure laziness and not shyness at all. "Yeah, I guess so. 'M glad I got stuck with you on this assignment though. You're full of interesting facts, Buckley."

She smiles, averting her eyes in hopes of not looking like the complete lovestruck fool she is. "Yeah, well, maybe I'll teach you some Italian here and there too."

"Wait-- you speak Italian?" You sit up straight, eyes practically sparkling after finding out this new juicy bit of information.

"Well, only halfway so, but I like learning languages. Keeps the brain juicy, you know?"

You chuckle at that, leaning your elbows onto your knees and letting your cheeks rest on your palms. "You're somethin' else, you know that Buckley?"

"You're one to talk."

"Well, you did say I looked like a boot. I guess that counts as 'something else'."

The both of you start laughing, and suddenly she doesn't feel so bad about her slipup from earlier anymore. Or this project. Bless the universe for putting her in your room that day.

#robinmath #aster writes stranger things #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley blurb #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley #robin buckley stranger things #robin buckley fic #robin buckley oneshot #aster's 1K celebration!

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talenlee · 4 months

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Don't Forget Simple Tools

I started this list, the list that became this article, about three years ago now and just added to it over time. Then I’d remove things when I saw I wasn’t using them any more, and I’d always call into question if I was being silly, right? Like, notepaper and pens, duh, obviously you know you can use those.

But you do know that right?

Like, if you’re making a board game you can take a piece of printer paper and draw your board on it. You can use a circle stamp to make the spaces if you want them reasonably consistent. You can just make things with pens and paper and sticky tape like you’re a little kid and nobody can stop you.

Still, if I’ve had the draft for years I either need to finish it, or delete it, and thus, I want to present to you a handful of cheap tools I’ve bought from the supermarket for making things that I have found useful.

Things Made Of Cardboard

Blank business cards

Index cards

Gift boxes

Cardboard is durable, and you can shuffle it easily. Because it’s firmer than typical paper, you don’t want to need to fold it, but it can absorb heavy pen texture. This makes it great for when you want something simple and bold and absolute. Lots of detail? You want a finer pen, but if you have like a laundry marker pen, get some index cards, because they won’t just soak through or risk being destroyed by absorbing the marker.

One technique I use index cards for is story structure. What I do is I write down the things I know I want – scenes I know I want, lines I know I want – and give each one an index card. Then I shuffle them up and look at them and then spend some time sorting those cards.

The process tends to present holes, and it tends to present clumps. Some things have to happen in some order, some things have to happen near one another, and some things have to happen without one being involved with one another at all.

This technique is useful for me when I want to see what a story has or what a story needs. Where are my gaps? What can I do to fill those gaps? How can filling those gaps present me with opportunities? And once I have some things clumped up, what can I do to make them relate to one another better? The cards can then have further notes added to them – like I can add notes on each of these things.

Ways To Write And Draw

Some high-contrast fine-tip pens

A big heavy sharpie style laundry marker that can show up at a distance

Some cheap coloured pencils or textas (markers, for Americans)

Some variety of erasable pencil

Speaking of writing things and writing on things, I recommend getting these, like, supermarket quality, writing implements. I have a pack of fine pens I got from Simggle for I think four dollars Australian that I have been using for years, because they have a nice range of colours that contrast with one another and stand out on white paper. I have a big chunky sharpie that I use for the index card titles, too.

Colour is useful because when you’re prototyping, you may know you want things to stand apart from one another but not know why. You don’t necessarily need to know the flavour of an interaction to want to see it in action. Thinking ‘well I’ll just write on them’ – it’s easier to just scribble a blob of colour on them, that gets out of your own way and you don’t have to spend time thinking of five different symbols when you start working.

Paper Things

Sticky Labels/Laundry Labels

Dot Stickers (coloured circles, you can usually get them in packets)

Cheap notebooks

Cheap cheap cheap, this is important, you don’t need to spend money on something nice and prestigious or good looking or transferable. Cheap means you don’t mind if you rip pages, cheap means you can scribble, cheap means that you when you use it to note something down you’ll know you need to transfer it somewhere soon.

I have a bullet journal, which I use to track things, but the thing with using that for me is that I want it to be constantly available to me. Using the thing I’m using every day, and making space in it for game designs is fine, it’s part of the diary sense of the whole thing. But for projects, things you want to hand to other people? Get a 99 cent exercise book and just fill it up.

Dot stickers fill the same role as the pencils, but they’re more consistent and a consistent size. Laundry labels are great for when you’re modding printed cards or misprinted things – just write the change on the label, and slap it on the prototype. It won’t look pretty but it’s not necesary to. Also can work as a ‘tape’ that you can write on.

Other Board Games

Chances are you live somewhere near a second-hand store, a salvos or what Americanese people are familiar with as a ‘thrift store,’ so named because there’s a weird kind of protestantism going on in everything over there. In these stores, you will usually find one or two board games. They will almost certainly be incomplete, and probably not something you care to own. It’ll be like Bible Couples Trivia The Board Game or Hectionary, The Pictionary With Six-Sided Tiles or something. These things can be seen as terrible games for a terrible price (ie anything) or you can look at them as a cheap way to get yourself a box, cards cut to a standard size, and some markers or maybe even a board.

When you’re digging into games as systems, when you’re trying to make something making something out of something else is a fine place to start. Dice are usually pretty good as just dice, and even if they say ‘lick ‘on one side you can still make rules about what ‘lick’ means. These are often extremely cheap and they come in their own box that contains them.

Conclusion

You don’t need these to be great or high quality devices. I’m confident you have your own level of what you tolerate, but the point here is not to give you a big pile of shopping list material to go buy that will make you a Great Prototype Designer. The point here is that there are cheap things you probably already have

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Making

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partyanimal167 · 6 months

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Paying Back Goodness- Vampire!Miguel x F!Reader

Was this supposed to be just another vampire!Miguel fic during October? Yes.

Is it definitely almost December instead? Also yes.

I need practice writing smut with this man for my other fic, so I'm definitely going to pretend that this came out before that other story lol

cw: modern au, black fem reader, smut, mdni, praise kink, biting (duh), pet names, pussy-drunk Miguel (our favorite munch)

For the life of you, all you wanted to do was rest. Literally. Life was wearing you out, but when a hot stranger needs your help, things somehow get more interesting.

You wanted to get home as soon as possible. You spent the entire day running around for your boss to make sure he didn't miss meetings or forget to send important documents. You didn't see yourself being a secretary, but you took a break from your main career, and this job found you with good benefits and some relief. However, being the workaholic you are, you were just as committed and driven in this job that was only supposed to be a year. Now, it had been two and a half.

It was fine at first. Your first boss was a gentle, sweet old man, but he was replaced a cocky asshole once he retired. You knew that the company was wealthy which meant things needed to be in order, but your boss could totally be tyrant.

You groaned as you turned on your car which beamed with a light stating you needed to get gas. You rested your head on the steering wheel and cursed past-you for being lazy that morning. It didn't matter though. It was Friday, and you actually had the weekend off to disassociate from the grind.

You drove to your favorite gas station nearby and decided to go inside for a snack. It was the normal night commuter crowd who quickly came and went like you planned on. You stood near the register thinking about which candy bar to buy when you heard someone clear their throat in your direction. You turned disinterested but ended up surprised by what you saw.

The man towered over you but looked down softly. He had handsome features: board shoulders, strong-looking arms, high cheek bones. His eyes were gentle as well as his hair that waved at certain points. You gulped quietly.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I think I left my wallet. Could I trouble you in getting this drink for me?" he scratched his head awkwardly, but the emotion looked cute on him.

You blinked twice then nodded. "Oh yeah sure, no problem." you placed your items on the counter and were in your thoughts. The man was dressed casually, but you were sure it was nice quality stuff. You mean, the situation happens to the best of people, so there was no reason to judge.

"Thank you so much, hermosa. I hope I can pay you back one day." the man smiled. You told him not to worry about it and went your separate ways. He was parked near your car, and you peeked to see how nice of a vehicle it was. You nearly choked. It looked like something that would be driven by your boss' boss. You turned away quickly as you filled your tank. You could hear the sound of an engine starting before a curse and then a door slamming.

You peered up and met the very shy gaze of the man from earlier. "This is really embarrassing, but I seem to be out of gas too..." he trailed off and barely met your eyes.

You just finished filling up, and you smiled to yourself. "Okay then." you walked over to the man's car and inserted your card.

"I'm so sorry. I was in such a rush to leave, and now I'm here bothering a beautiful lady." the man went on.

You coughed at the compliment but tried to play it off. "I get it, but let's just get you home. No point in being stranded. That would suck." you giggled.

The man nodded before searching for a scrap of paper while the tank filled. He fished for a pen before scribbling quickly. "I owe you one. If you ever need anything, anything, don't be afraid to call me please." You looked at the paper and read the name: Miguel O'Hara. Why was that familiar to you? You pocketed the slip and nodded. After insisted that you would call, you two went you separate ways.

You threw on your pajamas and flopped on your bed ready to rest the night away--promptly forgetting about your small act of kindness.

~~~

You were beat.

In the normal chaos of things, you totally forgot about the upcoming fall masquerade that your company was hosting. Thankfully, the event was handled by the marketing department, but you spent hours searching for a dress and mask to wear. You needed to look presentable. Your boss lectured you on who he needed to impress and how you need to find any and all hot gossip about the important business people. It seemed there were some ambitions he wanted to act on.

You didn't really care.

You stared at the garment bag hanging on the back of your bedroom door. You had a couple of hours before you needed to start getting ready, so you pulled out one of your work binders and flipped through the VIP list. You looked lazily at stuffy professional photos, facts on various business adventures, and quirks in people's personal lives. A couple red tabs highlighted your boss' targets, and you tugged on one randomly.

The page showed the strong intimidating face of one Miguel O'Hara. You nearly chocked on nothing. You knew his name was familiar! You were a bit startled by the photo. He looked so serious and commanding--very much the opposite of when you met him randomly at the gas station. The car made a lot more sense now. The man's pockets were deep. You glossed over to the personal facts. Your eyebrow quirked.

There were several bullet points noting how the man was a bit of a recluse, didn't like meetings before 4pm, preferred working at night, etc. He had been a highly sought after businessman for partnerships and investments, but was notorious for wanting all the details and spotting a swindler miles away.

You snorted to yourself. Your boss was going to have to be on top of his shit if he wanted to get away with anything, and you highly doubted that he was.

You hummed to yourself, looking at all the information. It was interesting to see how one's professional life contradicted with the personal. The gas station incident made a little more sense to you now. You wondered what made the man leave his house in the first place. Must have needed something and his staff was away.

You figured it would be easy to spot him later that night. Your boss would be ready to kiss ass and shake hands, so you didn't think you'd have much interaction to mentally prepare for.

Hopefully it would be an easy night.

~~~

"What did you just say?" Despite the mask covering half of your face, you knew that your disbelief was shining through. You were so tempted to kick your shoes off and high-tail out of the gala hall. Be fucking for real.

Your boss scoffed before pinching the bridge of his nose--as if his request was as simple as bringing him another drink. "Please don't be difficult tonight. I hear that O'Hara has been having a bit of a dry spell. If he seems even a little interested in you, pounce on him. Get into his bed if you need to. I'm sure he's got some important information in his home office."

You stared dumbfounded. "I am not fucking him for you! What the hell!"

An eye roll. "Oh please, I'm sure it'd do you some good. You don't have a boyfriend. Plus, I'll give you a raise. You can-," Thankfully, another VIP target appeared to speak with your boss which gave you an opportunity to slip away.

You didn't necessarily hate parties, but this grand showings of your company's wealth was a bit annoying when you felt you could be better compensated for your performance. You grabbed a glass of champagne and walked around a bit--chatting with some co-workers and seeing what little habits the rich and wealthy had. You weren't above knowing a little chisme, just not going to fuck someone for work.

"These things are always a little stuffy." a friendly voice said in your direction.

You didn't turn to see who it was but chuckled a little. "Yeah, but you gotta let the rich people have their fun. Otherwise, they're gonna start torturing poor people again." you kept your eyes on the crowd. Most people you recognized from their files, but despite your boss' wants, you hadn't seen Miguel O'Hara so far. The party had been going around for awhile. You weren't sure if he was going to show up, but that wasn't too much of your concern.

"Mm, that's quite an interesting thought." there was a brief pause, "Well I don't quite find amusement in people's suffering. But sometimes discipline is required--especially when you keep someone waiting." there was some teasing under there, and your brief tipsiness faded when that voice went a little deeper. You turned to face the stranger and softly gasped. "I thought you would have called me by now, Miss y/n."

Somehow seeing him this time, Miguel's presence felt entirely too large as you faced him. He looked down at you confidently, and there was some of that strong demeanor in his eyes. It reminded you of reading his file from earlier. He was definitely in his element here even if he preferred to be at home. You, on the other hand, were not used to high-end parties and social mingling. That's why you were off to the side watching.

Miguel indulged in seeing you decked out in a gown and a lacy mask. Your face was lightly beat, and lips shone in the light. You weren't going overboard like some of the other women there, but it didn't matter. He planned to seek you out after seeing your name as a point of contact for one of rich bastards here.

You took a moment to get your words together. "Ah well, I've been a bit busy...plus I didn't want to bother you."

Miguel grunted. "Wouldn't have been a bother at all. I'm the one who troubled you."

You waved your hand. "Ah well, it's fine really. A simple act of kindness. It's all good." you mumbled a little. There was an amusement in the man's eyes, and they seemed to glow with how his own masked framed his face. "I'm surprised you recognized me..."

A chuckle. "Of course hermosa, how could I forget such a beautiful face? I-,"

And just your luck for your boss to appear. "Ah there you are! Mr. O'Hara, I see you've met my lovely secretary. I hope she's giving you some good company. I'm-," he went on some rant, and you saw this as a chance to try and dip. You did not want your boss getting the wrong idea that you were going along with his shitty plan to seduce Miguel and search his house for whatever blackmail he assumed existed. It did look as though he was paying attention to your boss, so you quietly took a step away.

Immediately, you felt an arm around your waist-- pulling you closer to Miguel. Your faced warmed up. How did he even notice you move?

"Ah yes, I think we have a meeting coming up together soon. I'm interested in the project you proposed." Miguel interrupted the boring ramble. He leaned by your ear for a moment. "Find me on the third balcony in fifteen minutes." he whispered in your ear before letting you go.

You glanced at him then your boss before nodding. Your boss sent an unsubtle glare your way as you walked off.

...

It took an hour before you found yourself alone on the balcony. You took a seat on the sole bench and glanced up at the night sky. You had watched as crowds of people went out of their way to talk to Miguel. From afar, it seemed as though he had such a charismatic control over people. He leaned into it with powerful handshakes and cocky grins.

You were tempted to go home, but then your eyes met his and he winked. You decided to wait a little longer since the man wanted to talk to you.

You sighed after taking off your mask. You fidgeted with the shawl around your shoulders.

"Your boss is pretty shameless." you turned and watched Miguel approached you.

You chuckled before looking back at the sky. "Oh trust me I know. You wouldn't believe what he's asked me to do."

You felt the man stand close behind you. "Oh probably sending out his secretary to tease me." you quickly turned up at him. Miguel had a knowing grin. He licked his lips. "He's going to have to get more creative than that, but," he paused and took in the curious look in your eyes, "I would be tempted since it's you."

Things felt like they were warming up despite the autumn chill. "Excuse me?"

Miguel took a seat right by you, and the closeness wasn't in your favor. "I was hoping to take you out once you called, but that didn't happen." he huffed. "I had to wait to see you at work event. Not so charming."

You scratched your cheek and messed with the shawl again. "Ah well, you don't have to worry about charming me--people!" you corrected quickly. "People are drawn to you."

"Yeah for my money, but I wouldn't mind getting the attention I want for once." he gently reached out and turned your chin so you could properly look at him. "Gosh you look delicious." he groaned. You gasped as a thumb ran over your bottom lip. "Excuse my forwardness, but your sweetness drew me. I just want a little taste." he leaned in, "may I kiss you?"

"Yes." you quietly let out.

There was a shock that ran through you body feeling his lips against yours. You wanted to melt immediately. Yes, the man was attractive, but it was like something was pulling you just from his closeness and attention. You wanted to be greedy and hoard it. It suddenly wasn't enough to be alone with him outside. You feel something a bit pointy graze the skin of your lips, and you opened your eyes to see streaks of red in the man's eyes. Confusion flashed through you though Miguel looked down at you with a gentle fondness and deep hunger.

He slowly licked around what was definitely a fang as he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing it, then placing it on his cheek. "Mmm, you feel so warm too." his voice vibrated through your skin and its sultry tone kept you aroused and intrigued despite the slow growing concern that things were not what they first seemed. Miguel could see it in your eyes--the curiosity just under that cloud of lust. "Oh nena, you're safe with me." another kiss onto your hand, "I just bite a little."

~~~

You didn't question why Miguel had a suite ready at a hotel nearby. You didn't question how he seemed to know where to touch and what to say. You didn't question what he was despite knowing that those fangs were real and how the pieces about him were coming together.

Miguel planned on being on his best behavior originally. He mentally prepared himself to be in the limelight with people flocking towards him on the pretense of business. He only wanted to speak with you originally about a casual coffee date or to ask you why you were working for a scummy boss. (So he looked into your job and company. Don't sue him) However, things were just so tempting seeing how you easily talked with him, how your dress hugged your body and color scheme lit up your eyes, how he could hear your heartbeat increase and watch the slight twitch of your neck.

He lost that battle to tempation.

So Miguel would take you away from the useless mingling and allow the two of you to indulge in one another.

You gasped as you bounced slightly on the bed and propped yourself up to watch the man. He eyed you almost drunkenly as he pulled at his tie and tossed his cufflinks to ground as if they were worthless. You moaned watching him undress himself all the way to his briefs and felt that hazy sensation when you were pulled to the edge of the bed. A leg was raised, and you bit your lip feeling that sharp grazing sweep over your skin. The skin didn't break, but the possibility excited you especially when the truth was becoming clearer. You saw how his eyes glowed in the dark, and you froze with both arousal and anxiety.

Miguel chuckled as he rubbed his face against your leg--kissing right behind your knee. "Mmm, I don't know how I want to taste you first." he muttered half to himself and you. He edged himself more feeling his teeth on you skin. He could sense your excitement. "It won't hurt, nena; I promise. Just want little bite, please." his sweet begging made you clench around nothing, and of course, he saw it. He reached up and dragged your thin underwear off you. He melted at the sight. "So eager to please me. Just want to be a good meal for a vampire like me? Yeah, I know."

You knew. He knew you did, but the confirmation did things to your body. You heaved for air, and body started to squirm for more. It did was so deliciously appealing to know that this man desired you in more ways than one. You spread your other leg quickly for him and whimpered as the air reached your core. "Please," you started off, "I want it."

Miguel chuckled as his hands ran further up than before, your dress pushing up and gathering by your waist. "You want it?" Miguel teased and mimicked you. "You want what baby? You gotta use your words pretty girl. I know you can do it."

But you weren't sure what exactly. Him to fuck you, yes, but how would it feel if he did those other unspoken things he wanted? If he did more than just bite you but truly indulged in your essence? You didn't want to decide just then; either one would be beyond satisfying for sure. You shook your heard--still squirming and panting for more. "Give me whatever." You yelped feeling a slap against your wet cunt.

"Not the right answer. Be specific, dulce." Miguel went on to slowly run his fingers up and watch the slick coat his fingers. He was starting to lose himself more. You smelled sweet and delicious. He hadn't had the temptation to eat in a long time, but after meeting you, he couldn't shake the feeling. He was fighting so hard to be calm, collected. But you were such putty in his hands. He'd give you anything you wanted too.

"I want you to eat me out, sir." you threw the words together, but they seemed to work since Miguel went straight to work--sucking on your clit. He made himself comfortable wrapping his arms around your thighs; there was no way you'd be able to escape if you really wanted to.

He was messy.

If you weren't so caught up in your own pleasure, you'd think about how he seemed to be doing this for himself. The room sounded wet. You went from gripping the sheets to his hair and thrashing up and down--trying to get even closer to that sinful tongue that moved better than you'd ever experience.

Miguel was definitely pleased with himself and your reactions. Your hands gripped his hair once his fangs ever-so gently pressed on your clit. He was drunk off your scent, your sounds, your essence. He wouldn't have minded spending his night here at all really. He's please to devour you in any shape or form.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come." you breath out.

Miguel enjoyed that confession. He didn't let up at all. He lapped his tongue up and down, sucked on your pearl, teased your entrance. Your body trembled and only babbles were coming out. You were submerged in that intense feeling; you thought nothing could top it really...

But then you felt two pricks. And soon you were drowning deeper.

Miguel drinks from your thick thighs. He couldn't help himself. Your enamored expressions from coming pushed him to have you once again--more towards his nature. You were truly filling his being now. His brain was blanking only having that warm, comforting feeling of safety in ecstasy. Your pleasure became his and vice versa. He was lost in the way you accepted him so easily; he hadn't experienced that before.

The man pulled his teeth out and lapped at the bite deliriously. He rested his head on a thigh and enjoyed watching you come down from that consuming experience.

Your lungs finally seemed like they could get enough air, and you blinked away tears--first staring at the dark ceiling then moving your head down to see those glowing red eyes stare up at you--so much reverence and care. It took you by surprise, but you could only moan. Words still failing you.

"You're so beautiful, reina." It wasn't lost to you how he licked around his pink-tinted fangs. He pushed himself up and kissed his way back up. "So delicious, you have to mine." he was nearly pleading. Another kiss on your neck then lips. His eyes were so eager yet soft. He smiled sweetly at you. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

~~~

Apparently, eights hours was enough time for your world to be turned upside down. While you dreamed of warmth and care, Miguel seemed to have been working to make life a lot easier for you. Breakfast had been ordered. Clothes delivered. And a plan to buy your company, fire your boss, and get you back into your desired profession easily formulated.

You were none the wiser as grapes were gently placed into your mouth even after you insisted that you were fine enough to feed yourself. Miguel wouldn't be having that.

The man was still gorgeous in the soft lights of the hotel room, and it was hard to maintain eye-contact after the night's...festivities. You darted your eyes again, and Miguel chuckled. You looked back. "What?"

Another smile. "Why can't you look at me? Was it too much?" he almost pouted.

You scratched your cheek and fiddled with your hair. "It was amazing...but in my defense, vampires are not common knowledge." you opened your mouth to be fed without hesitation this time.

"Well, we like to keep things that way." he paused for a moment. "And I was wondering..."

The shyness didn't seem like at him at all. You met his eyes though they seemed nervous. "What is it?"

Miguel looked back at you. "I was hoping I could take you out after all of this...maybe some dinner or something." you laughed. "What's so funny!"

You waved your hand. "Nothing. You just showered me in goodness, and you're the one that's shy about me not wanting to see you? I'd be out of my mind." you leaned over and pecked him on the lips. "Guess good deeds to pay off."

I am a sucker for a vampire!Miguel. I want all the sexy, tempting goodness. Help people folks. You never know were it'll get ya 😉

~~~

It took me over a month to get through most of this, but only twenty minutes for the last portion. Writing is weird.

#spiderman #atsv #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #atsv fanfiction #late halloween post #vampire miguel #black fem reader #modern au #mine #stewie writes #partyanimal167

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ohimsummer · 2 months

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TROUBLEMAKER ft. CAT! STSG AU

— cat! au (gojo + geto), afab! reader, shoko cameo, stsg cat shenanigans, crack, some explicit language, gojo is the most annoying and insufferable he’s ever been ever (/affectionate)

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ part 1! finally got around 2 finishing this :3 idk about satoru yet but suguru is a fluffy oriental shorthair in my head. no I will not debate this ♡

wc 4.2k

“They’re…cats…?”

There’s an incessant sound of scribbling on Shoko’s clipboard. Her voice is almost drowned out by a white feline’s cries for your attention. “Yup.”

The other cat, the black one—Suguru, apparently—lies content in your arms, purring into your chest as you thread through long, sleek fur. A voice nags at the back of your mind that petting him is a little peculiar, but his hair is like silk. You can’t help it.

Satoru, ever the asshole, batted away all your efforts to pet him, and is now left in his regret to wander circles around your ankles. Angry, dilated pupils never leave Geto—who remains blissfully indifferent—as Gojo paws at your feet to be rewarded even a glance.

“It’s the side effect of a cursed spirit. I’m assuming it went ‘whoosh’ and they went ‘psshhh’.” Shoko makes a shrinking motion with her hands. “And now they’re cats.”

A frown weighs down your lips at her lackluster explanation. “I don’t think I understand—”

“Anyway, it should wear off in a couple days.” Her pen swivels in your direction, eyes steady trained on her paperwork. “You gonna need my help buying supplies?”

“Huh—!” The words choke up in your throat. “Why are they coming with me?”

Shoko finally spares you a glance, an audacious look as if you asked something idiotic. “Oh, please, you really think they’d be happier staying with me? Besides, I don’t wanna do it. Duh.”

There’s also the unspoken assumption that she wants the apartment to herself for a couple days. Or to have Utahime over in peace but, ultimately, you’ll be stuck catering to this feline duo.

“God, I—, fine.”

The journey back to your place is going smoothly, save for when Gojo conveniently decides to figure-8 between your steps. Or stop in front of every sweets shop to blink his giant, round cat eyes at you over his miniature sunglasses.

“He’s so cute!,” a passing older lady stops to fawn over him. “Look at him and his little glasses, how adorable!”

And you just offer up a grin, afraid to dip a toe into this awkward small talk as if Gojo has always been this talkative, adorable kitty—knowing just yesterday he had you in a headlock over not sharing your own dessert with him. You also don’t want to be susceptible to any related teasing whenever they turn back, brushing off her comments with forced laughter as you continue onwards.

Gojo lags behind, responding to the woman with some proud cat noises before running ahead to reach your side again. Unfortunately, right on his heels is this persistent older lady.

You can hear her firing off a barrage of questions and statements: “What’s his name? Is he a Persian? I have a little gal at home that looks just like him!”

It’s a struggle not to roll your eyes. Sure, her chatter is innocent, but you don’t want to be bothered. Besides, these are not some childhood pets accompanying you on an errand—they’re two, 6-foot-tall boys in feline bodies, primed to snag onto any questionable comment you make as ammo to bully you in the future.

“His name is Gojo. Not sure of his breed. I just got him.”

Uninterested tone, closed-off body language, pace picking up—none of it seems to be enough to deter her.

“He looks so nurtured!”

Said he looks cranky and tired, legs a blur as Gojo runs to keep your pace. He growls out obvious complaints, nipping and clawing at your ankles to slow you down.

“You must be such a wonderful cat momma to him! I bet he’d make some pretty babies—“

Suguru makes a stuttered, breathy noise in your ear, an amused chuff that must be his cat version of laughter.

An incoming crosswalk threatens to leave you at the mercy of her conversation. Your eyes are trained on the mocking, red hand, the one thing that prevents you from booking it to the other side of the street.

You’re forced to slow down as you draw nearer to the heap of people awaiting the signal change.

Her “Could I get a picture of him?” sends a shudder down your spine. Perhaps jaywalking would grant you a ticket out of this.

The crossing icon switches right before you’re forced to a complete stop, and a sigh of relief escapes as you maneuver through a confused crowd. Mutters of apology are left in your trail of dust, along with the ear-catching clamors of a white kitty.

You only peep behind you for a brief second, Suguru’s ticklish fur floating around in your nose, and you spot the lady getting swept away by the wave of ongoers. Her voice is lost beneath the sea, a camera-yielding hand flailing above unbothered heads.

Geto flicks a bushy, dark tail over your face, thoroughly getting hair on your tongue this time around. You’re about to turn and scold him before skidding to a halt right before colliding with a large, metal pole.

His white-furred partner is not so lucky, though he only makes an abrupt faceplant into the back of your lower calves. Gojo plops back on his rear, giving a low meow as he uses a paw to straighten his crooked sunglasses.

“Thanks, Suguru” you mutter, and he flicks an ear in response, continuing to guard his spot on your shoulder for the remainder of the journey. Geto is mostly silent, save for the occasional silky mew to either grab your attention or get his explorative friend in line.

Upon entrance to your apartment building, Satoru only seems to grow more unruly. He leaps onto the front desk, spitting sharp grievances as you gather him up and layer apologies to the worker behind the counter. Suguru makes sure to land a few light warning taps on his head, almost slipping off your shoulder when Gojo retaliates with his own irated slaps. The scene of you tottering into the elevator while also breaking up a literal cat fight makes for quite the show for the few people in the lobby.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands pretty full, eh?,” a man chuckles, arm held over the elevator doors so you may stumble inside.

“I don’t—stop it, you two—know what I’m gonna do with them,” you sigh, and he replies with a sympathetic head shake.

The doors ease shut, and then what should have been a short trip to your room is prolonged when Gojo decides he wants to swat at the buttons. Now, on top of stopping at floors where there are actual people waiting, you’re stuck visiting six others that he and his mischievous paws have so chosen. And also forced into more awkward interactions of people complimenting your wonderful animal caretaking skills.

“The black one is so well-behaved.,” a young brunette fawns. She raises a hand to scratch under Suguru’s chin, face falling in embarrassment when he pulls away from her. “O-oh, I’m sorry.”

You can’t tell if she’s apologizing to you or him.

A short cough disguises your giggle, and you inform her, “Ah, it’s fine, he’s just weary of other people.”

She seems reassured at your words, glancing at a wriggling Satoru in your grasp. “He doesn’t look too interested in being pet, either, haha.”

Gojo weighs heavy in your arms, and you readjust to get a better grip on him, ignoring his meows of complaint. “Yeah, he’s kind of an asshole—“mrrow!”—and he might scratch, so I’d advise against it.”

A shy grin spreads on her lips, and then the girl is exiting the lift, waving goodbye to you and the two kitties.

Upon reaching your own floor, Gojo zooms out into the hallway, vocalizations echoing in the empty corridor. Geto remains carefully seated on your shoulder, leaning onto your head and surely leaving strands of cat fur in your own hair. The white cat speeds ahead until he arrives at your door, and then immediately begins another cacophony of loud meows, seemingly in an effort to rush you.

“Satoru, be quiet!”, you whisper-shout at him from down the hall. The words are barely audible in your own ears over the sound of his impatient yells.

They only die down once your keys enter the lock, and Gojo slithers inside the second the door is cracked, Geto not far behind as he leaps from his anchor point. You roll the joint in a circle—he’s so cute as a little parrot on your shoulder, but the lack of weight is a welcome relief.

“Jeez, Suguru, you’re kinda heavy.” The obvious offense in his low ‘mrow?’ makes you giggle. “I’m gonna get changed and then I’ll make dinner after. Be right back!”

There’s a pitter patter of steps, and Gojo is sidling up next to you for your upstairs trip. He pounces onto the bed, watching as you grab a shirt (his) off a chair at your desk, and a pair of leggings from the closet. Geto resides at the top of the stairs to supervise, ready to intervene should his idiot other half start causing more trouble.

With the clothes in your hands, your next stop is the bathroom, though you halt in the vacant doorway with Gojo right on your heels.

“Ummmm…,” you scoff a laugh as blue eyes blink up at you. “Satoru, you’re not watching me change.”

He replies a conjoined, high-pitched ‘mrow-row?’, not making an effort to move. Geto strolls over and bats at his fluffy, white rear, an unamused look in his violet eyes. While Gojo turns to defend his haunches, you giggle a ‘Thanks, Suguru!’ for the second time and disappear into the bathroom, promptly ignoring the dull smack of a paw and a loud hiss as your hip bumps the door shut.

A white head snaps in your direction upon your reappearance. Gojo trots forward to greet you, bushy tail straight up in a friendly gesture. His calmer counterpart is nowhere to be found when a flash of black catches your attention, and you spot Geto balanced on the railing of your bedroom.

“Keepin’ an eye on Satoru?” You realize you’re talking to him in somewhat of a babified pet voice, but he doesn’t seem to mind, only purring happily as you scratch a finger under his chin.

Someone doesn’t like that, and your hand rapidly recoils as an angry Gojo steadies on his hind legs, shouting angry yowls and hisses and furiously slamming a paw at any part of Geto he can reach, sending the black cat plummeting off the railing and you hear him land on the level below with a loud thud.

“Satoru Gojo!” Named cat looks back at you like he didn’t just essentially push Suguru to his doom. “You’re gonna behave in my house, sir, or I’m sending you back to Shoko!” He opens his mouth to complain, but you cut off Gojo’s meow with another scolding. “Nah ah, I don’t want to hear it! Don’t start trouble or it’s to the shelter, ya hear?”

His ears flatten back, expression akin to what you can only describe as intense worry, and Gojo grants you a final, pleading meow as he stands again, front paws against your leg. You reach down to pet behind his little ears, and he leans a fuzzy head into your palm, tail swishing as the rumbling in his throat grows louder.

“You’re such a baby.”, comes your gentle coo as Satoru’s lids ease shut. “Could’ve asked for pets way better than that.”

You only reward his bad behavior for a moment. The caress of your hand stops far too soon for Gojo’s liking, and he’s right behind to follow you back down to the first floor. Geto meets you halfway, looking behind you and leaving you to continue on interrupted. There’s the sharp sound of a ‘smack!’ and a pair of tiny, blue sunglasses tumble past to land at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ah, ah! Satoru, get down!”

The guilty feline goes skedaddling off the countertops, casting Geto an envious glare as he scampers to sit right at the threshold where your kitchen meets the living room.

Your eyes narrow at him, suspicious and distrustful, before returning to your cooking under Geto’s careful examination from the marble surface. His tiny nose livens up at the savory smells wafting around the kitchen, pink tongue darting over a furry mouth as he curiously eyes the fried rice in the pan.

The delicious scent of cooked meat creeps up his nostrils, and Geto turns to eye his slice of the chicken breast you’ve so graciously blessed him with. It’s only partially nibbled on so a third of it still remains, but if Satoru had his way, both he and Suguru’s servings of the meat would have long since been given a home in his endless stomach. It’s why your gaze keeps traveling around the room. You’re keeping tabs on Gojo and his greedy whereabouts.

Speak of the devil—barely two minutes later and the snowy thief is back. His shrill meows pierce your eardrums, restless paws tracing steps between your feet, scurrying behind your couch when he almost trips you only to eventually return when your scowl has disappeared.

The air of your apartment feels happy, jubilant. It’s so serene considering these two are in the same room together. Just the sizzle of food, the background noise of the television, and Gojo’s constant yowling for any smidge of your attention—though it feels domestic in a way if you don’t think too hard on the fact that it’s Satoru. Maybe there’s also the quiet sounds of chewing whenever Geto decides he wants another bite of his chicken.

The hassle comes whenever you turn your head and Gojo makes his move, leaping onto the counter to cause havoc. His troublemaking comes in a plethora of ways, but his favorites seem to be taking a bite out of Suguru or attempting to steal whatever leftover scraps are in his sight. His sneaky plans are foiled by the black cat either wrestling him back onto the floor or meowing an alarm so that the Gods (you) may banish Satoru from the kitchen once again.

Matters are only made worse when you offer Suguru a piece of egg from your now-finished dinner, and the exiled, white cat screeches in a show of utter betrayal.

“Oh my god, Satoru.” You pluck another chunk of poultry from the skillet, kneeling to present it in your palm. “Here.”

Suguru’s eyes narrow at his dramatic feline partner, ears twisted back and dropped to flatten against his head as the tip of his black tail flicks back and forth.

Gojo pads over. His pink nose looks adorable, scrunched up as he sniffs your hand for a second or two before licking his lips, and then he snatches the cooked egg from your hand and scurries off. There’s a large sigh behind you; Geto gives you a half-lidded eye-roll from his new spot at the edge of the counter, before voicing a short ‘mroh’.

You grin at him. “He’s such a goofball, isn’t he?” ‘Mrow-ow’.

With your meal finally ready and a grumbling stomach, you curl up on the couch, bowl of oyakodon in hand. The movie playing on the tv is boring, and also halfway done so it doesn’t hold an ounce of your interest. Even so, you try not to notice the pair of blue eyes peeking at you over the coffee table.

Ignoring Satoru and his hungry gaze makes for a far more entertaining game. The tip of his bushy, white tail is visible from where you sit, swaying side to side as Gojo eyes your bowl of food.

“You’re not getting any, Satoru, you’ve already eaten most of the kitchen, today.”

‘MrraAAH!’ He lets loose a dramatic scream, squinting sky blues at you.

Gojo’s so focused on vacuuming up any possible crumbs that he doesn’t notice the black shadow creeping up behind him. It’s not until Suguru paws at his snowy-colored fur that his cerulean eyes turn towards him. They hold each other’s gaze before Geto ducks out of your sight, and soon Gojo with him. There’s a sound of scuffling, someone’s frantic meows, and then the white kitty skids into view with Geto pinning him down, both wrestling as he tries to sink teeth into Satoru’s back.

You take another nonchalant bite of food. “Get his ass, Suguru.”

Gojo’s continual wriggling finally grants him freedom from the black feline’s clutches. You watch in amusement as he flees the scene, Geto hot on his tail. Satoru goes careening around the corner of the coffee table, nails scraping your hardwood floors so he’s stuck gliding like a cartoon character before disappearing from view; Suguru takes a more parkour-ish approach, rebounding off the wall and he goes flying into his target if the following ‘thud’ and ‘MRAH!’ is of any indication.

A late-evening shopping trip wasn’t on the schedule for today, but there was an unfortunate flaw in today’s system: the call of nature for your two new kitties.

Your original plan was to get everything tomorrow. Cat food and bedding could be improvised for tonight, and Satoru was enough entertainment for he and Suguru together. One thing had slipped your mind until you found the two causing a racket atop your closed toilet—a litter box.

One quick trip later, and now you’re back home arranging their little tray, pouring the grey pebbles inside and hiding it on a mat in the corner of your living room where they could have more privacy.

“There ya go!” Your hands fall to your hips, looking proudly over your work. The two large cats stand on either side of you, glancing between you, each other, and their new bathroom. “Go on, now, don’t be shy.”

Satoru grants you an offended glare over his shades, while Suguru turns and walks away entirely, the tip of his tail flicking in annoyance.

“Hey, I went through the trouble to go out and get this thing for you two and this is how you repay me?” Satoru nips at your leg in response. “Ow! Stop that! Fine, hold it then, but you two better not do your business on my floors.”

Though they seemed adamant about not going in the litter box, you can see the idea nudging its way into their little heads as the urge to go grows stronger with time. You catch them sneaking glances at their designated corner, easing closer and closer to the box. Suguru sniffs at the entrance before leaving it again. Satoru apparently thinks keeping his back to it will make his need to use it go away.

“Mrooww!”, Geto voices to you, clawing at your front door.

You sigh at him. “Suguru, just use the litterbox.”

He produces a sound between a meow and a low growl, still showcasing his irritation with flat ears and a swaying tail.

“Is it too little? You two want something bigger? Or two separate litter boxes? Either way, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow because it’s late out and I’m not walking you all the way to the park for this.”

“Mroh..?”

Arms fold beneath your chest. “And you’re not going by yourself, either.”

Gojo circles your legs, letting out a low chuff. No doubt this is amusing to him. His pouty friend sighs and struts away like a stubborn child, hissing as Satoru bats at his lowered tail and leaving to hide somewhere in your room.

You move on with your nightly duties—tidying up your kitchen, putting away leftovers, keeping an eye out for the shenanigans of a white-haired feline. Maybe twenty minutes have passed, and you suddenly hear the scritch-scratch of litter being tossed around.

From the corner of your eye, you see a bundle of black whisps protruding from the entrance of the box. It’s not any of your business until you have to clean the thing out. For now, you’re just content he’s using it and not tampering with the health of his liver.

Then, through your peripherals, Gojo pops up next to the box, sitting just outside of it. He peeks inside, meowing, and jolts back as a black paw reaches out to slap him away. There’s an exchange of curious cat noises and irate yowls, before a screech echos from the litter box and you rush over to break up their impending battle.

“Satoru—,” you snatch him away, spitting out clouds of his shedding, white hair,”—give him some privacy, damn.”

You heave Gojo and his massive self up your stairs throughout another set of his meowed complaints, watch as he cranes his head at the sound of more scratching litter.

“Why are you being a pervert trying to watch him pee?”, comes your exasperated question.

He wriggles expertly in your arms, instantly escaping your grasp around his upper body and goes fleeing downstairs no doubt to harass Geto again.

It’s the end of the day. You’re over it for tonight. “GET UP HERE.”

His swift steps and the scraping of litter both halt at the tone and base of your voice.

Satoru turns his shiny, blue eyes to you, head slightly lowered in shame like a child who knows they’ve angered their mom. He turns-tail, creeping back up the stairs with cautious steps. Once he reaches your side, blacks of his eyes wide and round, he gives you a squeaked ‘mrow…?’.

Geto peeks around the corner to peer up the steps at the sudden commotion, retreating when he sees your crossed arms and the fed-up taps of your foot.

“Up the stairs. Now.” Gojo skitters past you without a second thought. “You two, Suguru, let’s go. It’s bedtime.”

A short pause, and then he comes trotting up to the second floor, tail raised straight up and he gives a flurry of bright meows as he obeys your command.

They’re both on the bed by the time you travel the remaining few steps to your bedroom. Both sit side-by-side, obedient and still and awaiting your next move.

“I’m gonna finish my routine. Don’t you two start any trouble while I’m busy, ya hear?”

A harmonized ‘mrrow!’.

“Good boys.” You clap your hands together with a grin. “Now get ready for bed.”

“Satoru, you can’t sleep there.”

While Geto has, of course, chosen a more ideal, comfier spot for bedtime near the edge of your bed, his counterpart takes a more…spacious approach. They’re both rather large cats, so him laying sprawled out on his back, smack-dab in the center in a spread-eagle is not the most suitable place for Gojo to slumber.

Your words elicit no reaction from him—not besides the flick of his ear, anyway. Geto’s tail swishes from side to side, a tell that he’s about to bop Gojo with a harsh paw to the face and a hiss. And he does just that, but it seems Gojo has caught on as he grabs hold of the furry black arm with his paws. You watch the duo wrestle as he tries to sink fangs into Geto’s shoulder. They’re like toddlers fighting over a toy, and the scene just elicits a shake of your head in defeated amusement at their childish antics.

He’s got Gojo pinned to the bed, the latter bunny-kicking his hind legs in futile efforts to shove Geto off him, before they both go tumbling onto the floor, breaking up their little quarrel. The two scurry off in opposite directions, Geto under the bed and Gojo into the open door of your bathroom. Two loud thumps. Your butt hasn’t even hit the mattress before the sound of things falling catch your ears.

“Satoru…?,” you call out, disappointment evident in your tone. A second passes before his purred 'mrrr?' and you feel Geto’s whiskers brush your bare ankles as he peeks from his hiding spot. “Did you break something in there?” More silence, and then the smallest, cutest squeak followed by a blue eye that peeks around the corner.

Walking into the bathroom, you’re not met with completely heinous results. He must’ve ricocheted off the walls to make such a mess in such few seconds. Your toothpaste and a few makeup products are spilled onto the floor, and Satoru approaches with your toothbrush carried in his teeth. Hands on your hips and a brow quirked, you just take it and make a mental note to get a new one in the morning.

“Alright.” The sound of your double claps echo off the tile. “Out. Both of you.” And off they go.

It takes a few extra minutes to clean up Gojo’s small mess, and bedtime this time around is easier when a large white cat isn’t trying to take up majority of the bed. You settle beneath the sheets, Suguru curling up on the other, unoccupied pillow this time, and Satoru so graciously plops down to lay on the curve of your back.

“Comfy now?,” you crane your neck to address the cat whose head rests at the incline of your ass. He murmurs a low meow in return, and you turn to Suguru, who’s eyes are the only thing you can see in the darkness. “And you?” The subtle sound of purring emits from his throat.

“Okay. G’night, you two.” And you are lulled off to sleep with their low, harmonious rumbling.

tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis @elusivemoon @yunymphs @hellkaiserinphoenix @plutowrites @babytoshiii

#idk what tags to use for this btw #stsg au #x reader #stsg x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #geto x reader

720 notes · View notes

soliverse · 3 years

Text

cinderella and the mystery of the red lipstick (sfw version) - d.sc

reader x roommate!winwin

genre: fluff, humor, (optional smut below)

warnings: a bunch of swearing, mean insults and a bit of gaslighting

word count: 2972

synopsis: this is another Cinderella fic, except for the fact that she left lipstick stains instead of glass slippers

tags:

@byutafy for the short notice beta reading. love you!

networks:

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet @nct-writers

prompt:

The song it was based on was Lips by NCT 127 (although it leaned towards the demo version more)

It was also a bit upbeat because the song Cinderella by CNBLUE (the Youth With You version) has been stuck on my head for ages now.

Enjoy reading!

Love, Ellie.

It was already two in the afternoon but Winwin still stayed lying in bed, clutching his blanket close to his body in an attempt to prevent the chill of the afternoon breeze from coming in contact with his bare skin.

The plan was to stay in bed until all remnants of the vodka and last night's shenanigans have washed away. Or until he dies from starvation. But his roommates have other things in mind.

"WINWIN HYUNG!"

He was jolted awake by the loud noise coming from his bedroom window. Half-awake, he peeked through the sheets to see what the commotion was about.

The first thing he saw was Lucas holding his now broken doorknob in one hand, happily waving it around like a lightstick. Hendery was happily mumbling some bullshit that he didn't care enough to comprehend. Xiaojun was holding a tube-like contraption that he assumed was confetti, Ten and Yangyang were on the side, dancing like the game show girls while holding up each side of a handmade banner stating "Congrats on getting laid!" badly written with a green crayon. Meanwhile, Kun at the end of the line, leaning back at the door frame with his arms crossed while watching all of the chaos unfold right before him.

"Fuck off..."

Winwin grunted and grabbed the pillow under his head, throwing it with full force so that it ended up hitting Xiaojun on his chest.

They seem to have taken the hint because they all scrambled outside, laughing their asses off as they try to get away and avoid getting their asses kicked by a martial artist.

Meanwhile, Winwin buried his face under the thick sheets, trying his best to block the light coming from outside from reaching his eyes, heightening his already throbbing headache. He was planning to stay in bed no matter how loud his stomach grumbled, but his resolve is weaker than he expected. Begrudgingly, he dragged his tired ass out of bed to take a cold shower, hoping that will shake his hangover out.

///

“Holy shit.”

This wasn’t the usual statement that he says to himself whenever he would look at himself in the morning. However, as soon as he lifted his head in the mirror to wash his face, he might as well be an extra for a horror movie.

All over his upper body, especially the neck and chest area, was filled with red smudges. He also found tiny hints of it at the corners of his lips. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was lipstick.

Whoever he made out with (or had sex with) last night must’ve gone wild and tried to mark every part of him that she could place her lips on.

Winwin felt his heart sink. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who he was last night. Just like his body, the memories of her red lips lingered on his mind. But that’s about it.

It took him a long time to squint his eyes and try to recall the moments leading up to him getting on the bed with someone, but it only made his headache worse. Defeated, he chose to let everything go and proceeded to hop in the shower just like he initially intended.

He opened the shower, letting it get to his desired temperature before he stepped in and let the water flow from his hair to the rest of his body. He didn’t move, instead of leaning one of his hands on the wall for support as he closed his eyes and tried to soothe himself with the water pressure from the showerhead. He took a deep breath, letting the air come out slowly of his lips, eyes still heavily shut.

That’s when the memories kicked in.

He finally remembered being in that same position, in a familiar corner of their dorm, as he leaned over to kiss the girl with the red lips. He also remembered the heat, the intensity of the kiss as his subconscious made him remember that he was gasping for air afterward. And so, he resorted to kissing her jaws instead. She willingly returned the favor, which is probably where he’d gotten the smudges that he found that morning, and how her red lips formed a proud smile as she kept on going, painting his fair skin with her rouge.

He sucked in another lungful of air before opening his eyes and hopping back into reality. He’s still clueless as to how the girl looked like, but he was determined to find out who’s the owner of those red luscious lips, and he would love it all over him again.

///

Sicheng came out of his room already dressed up, water still dripping from his hair to the towel that he placed on his neck. He made his way to the kitchen and he found the rest of his friends sitting around the table, smiling like idiots.

“What?”

He asked, already annoyed about how they’ve been acting all day, or at least, for the past two hours.

“Yangyang saw you enter your room last night. With a girl,” says Kun.

“Uhh, duh?” Ten replied, raising an eyebrow at the older as he grabbed the butter knife and spread peanut butter over a piece of bread.

“How sure is everyone that it was a girl?” Hendery squinted his eyes, trying to look intimidating as he interrogated his friend for further details about last night.

“Why is everyone so concerned if I fucked a girl or not? Or if I fucked at all?” Winwin replied in annoyance, coming out almost whiney, hoping that they would cut the questions out and leave him and his breakfast alone.

“You don’t know either, do you?” Xiaojun tried not to laugh as he stuffed a sunny-side-up egg in his mouth, failing at the last minute to the point that he almost spat some of it out.

Winwin sighed. He knows they will plague him with questions until next week and will do anything to squeeze it out of him at the best of their abilities. Him getting laid feels like some event to be celebrated because out of all the guys, he was the least interested in women. Not that he doesn’t like them, it’s that he just refused to do it unless he’s genuinely interested in the girl.

Or guy.

Was it a guy?

Winwin resorted to stuffing his mouth with as much food as he can because it would give him an excuse to not speak further and answer their questions. For how long he can keep it up is a question that he’ll have to face once his plate full of food is decimated.

///

By the time you get into your brother’s dorm, the whole place was so trashed that you even hesitated to proceed inside. However, your mother asked you that morning to come over to your brother’s dorm as he refuses to reply to her texts and respond to her calls that morning.

“Ssup, nerd.”

You always cringe whenever Hendery calls you that nickname. Not that it affects you or anything. It was just so… old-school. You’re a big fan of insults and you would certainly be happier if the nickname was a bit more creative.

“Ssup, failure.” You replied, sitting right beside him as you grabbed a plate and helped yourself with the food served at the table, courtesy of Kun. He’s the only one that’s competent enough to fry eggs that beautifully.

“Mom’s been calling non-stop since last night. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t with you. I couldn’t come up with an excuse so I just told her you slept early because of morning classes.”

Hendery snickered.

You and he have very different lifestyles. He was supposed to be two years ahead of you in college, but he’s always caught up in partying and having fun that he missed some subjects that he had to retake that year. One more fuck up and you’ll be joining him in classes next year. And as your parents’ only hope, you feel compelled to stay away from all the fun stuff until you graduate. That is also the reason why Hendery felt it was his moral obligation to shoo you away from last night’s party, despite sharing the same room as him.

At least that's what he told you. You have a reason to believe that he shooed you away last night just so he can do whatever he wanted without you around to snitch on him.

“Everything’s fine, kid. I already told her the same thing last night. You and I share the same brain.”

“Yes, except one of us has his brain fried by substance abuse and the other has a perfectly functioning human brain capable of making future science discoveries.”

Your eyes then diverted to the guy sitting right across you. He looked sickly and pale, his organs probably screaming inside asking to die.

“What’s up with him?” You asked your brother.

“He had done the deed with a guy last night.” Winwin, with an expressionless face, was quick to throw a flying spoon in Hendery’s direction. The milk splattered everywhere, but Hendery was able to evade it, laughing maniacally as he wiped the milk off of his arms.

“Hey, you’re good with this investigation stuff, right? Maybe you can help prince charming over here find his Cinderella?”

///

"Tell me what you can remember."

Winwin thought you looked ridiculous when you grabbed a pen and a notepad, looking like some low-budget investigator in the movie. He wasn't in the mood to play along, but he might as well humor you and find out what happened last night.

"This may not help at all, but I can't remember jack shit except for one thing," He paused. You raised both eyebrows expectantly, signaling him to answer faster. "Red lips. That's the one thing I haven't forgotten about."

You scribbled the word, red lips in your notepad.

You scribbled a few more words and nodded as if you understood its implication.

"Well, that doesn't narrow down the suspects at all."

You placed your notepad in your pocket and stood up from your seat.

"We shall now go and investigate the crime scene."

///

You decided that the crime scene was Winwin's bedroom since this is where he found himself last.

Winwin saw that you're very detail-oriented, looking at every nook at cranny to see traces of the mystery person around and aid in the investigation.

His room was cleaner than you'd expected, so finding things that stick out or are out of place will be a clear sign of the perpetrator.

You searched high and low, from the shelves to the bed, but you're only able to find two things that might help his case.

As soon as you lifted one of his pillowcases, you saw traces of red smeared across its white surface. Some of it even transferred in the bedsheets.

"Your story checks out. It is red lipstick." You lifted the pillow and walked towards Winwin, who's just sitting at one of his bean bags and mostly just observing you doing your stuff.

You pointed out the smudges to him and he nodded. You then proceeded to grab one of your magnifiers from your backpack and looked at the stains for closer inspection.

"Seeing its transferability, I can say that the lipstick in question has a satin finish. The shade, as far as I can see, is somewhere in between orange and bright red." You grabbed your notepad once again and listed down your observations.

"Know anyone who wears that often?" He proceeded to shake his head.

"Alright then. Now, we ask the witnesses."

You were about to leave the room when Winwin called you out to call your attention.

"Hmm?"

"I think there's something under the bed."

He stood up from his seat and proceeded to walk towards his bed, kneeling as he tried to reach for something below.

You were surprised to see what he found, though. In between his fingers is a piece of thin, lace material, glowing red just like the lipstick shade. It was someone's underwear.

"Yeah… I think we should keep that from the witnesses."

///

"Where were you at the time of the incident?"

As it turns out, the rest of the boys are no more helpful than Winwin. You just finished interviewing Kun, Ten, Yangyang, Xiaojun, and Lucas. The boys themselves barely remember what they did last night, let alone whatever their friend was doing. Meanwhile, the victim (aka Dong Sicheng) sat there right alongside you while you asked the questions. You asked them if they were helpful at all, but alas, nothing resonates to him.

"Hey, aren't you going to ask me about last night?"

Hendery popped out in the makeshift interrogation room (aka the living room) and sat down right beside you, peeking in at your notes.

"Nope. I only interview reliable sources. You can barely remember your stuff sober." You stuffed your notepad back again at your backpack, hugging it close to your body to keep it from your brother.

"I saw Winwin with someone though. He was making out with someone right just a few meters away from his bedroom."

"Go on…"

"I didn't see her well though. She was pinned across the wall and Sicheng hyung's body was blocking the view."

You sighed.

"See. It was pretty useless information."

He was about to say something else, but you cut him off.

"I'll keep them in mind, thank you very much."

///

You’ve finally sat down back again in the kitchen to give yourself a moment of peace to piece the things you found together. Winwin is just right beside you, just quietly observing just as usual.

Everything is laid out across the kitchen table, your notepad, the pillowcase, the underwear (which is kept in a ziplock bag for hygienic purposes).

“You still don’t remember anything?”

“I do remember seeing those before, but nothing is still coming out. I still can’t remember who she is.”

You can tell that Sicheng was getting a bit frustrated. He was trying his best to remember as he once again shut his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, seeing if there is anything that he is missing.

As he did this, Hendery popped in again in the kitchen, this time holding a full laundry basket.

“I would just like to let you know that I am being a good brother and roommate by doing your laundry.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you Hendery. You did well." You smiled at your brother to acknowledge him, but you mostly did it just to shoo him away from the investigation room. He seems to have gotten the idea and left as soon as he showed the basket to you for one last time.

He shut the door and you were met with a deafening silence once again. This time though, you felt weird energy coming from the guy right in front of you. He stared at you for a long time, specifically your lips, and then he started to break down right in front of you.

"Shit."

"Hmm?"

You asked him what the problem was, but all that came out of his mouth are grunts and a string of curses.

"You alright?"

He was now going between laughing and frustration, rubbing his hands on his face as he lets out all emotions.

"It was you all along. You're red lips girl."

You smiled as you looked at your phone to check the time.

"Five hours. I'm impressed. If that was my brother, it would've taken him a week or two."

"Why didn't you just tell me? I feel stupid."

"And take the fun out of it? Nope."

You then watch him react, different kinds of emotions flooding in at the same time. You laughed as you stood from your seat and patted his back.

"What gave it away?"

He stopped reacting for a while, composing himself as he relayed his deductions to you.

"I had my suspicions when you opened your bag to get the magnifying glass. I saw a red lipstick tube scattered across but I dismissed it since any girl would have lipstick on her bag. I was also confused when you refused to acknowledge the underwear. I saw it from my point of view, but it's like you purposely didn't look under the bed just so you won't find it. You know it was there, didn't you?"

You finally grabbed a seat right beside him, interested to hear what he has to say next.

"And then there's Hendery's story. You didn't ask him to mess with him. It's because he did see us. I remember now, it's what got us in this mess in the first place…"

You nodded to acknowledge him. You've always known that he's a bit smarter than the other guys, but he was very observant as well. That's why he was quiet all the time.

"Lastly, when Hendery came in with your laundry, there was something sticking out," He picked up the ziplock and held it across your face. "The bra that came with this, it was sandwiched along with your other clothing, but the bright color stuck out to me."

"Mhm… " You nodded in approval. You didn't even notice that last one, but he was able to pick that as well.

"And then I stared at your lips for a while. That's when it hit me. It was the same lips that I claimed last night. The red lips that drove me crazy…"

You gave him a small round of applause as he finished his spiel.

"Honestly, you were on point on everything. I'm just sad that you can't remember anything."

His moment of clarity was shut down and he smiled apologetically.

"Want me to tell you what happened?"

He nodded profusely.

The plan was to stay in bed until all remnants of the vodka and last night's shenanigans have washed away. Or until he dies from starvation. But his roommates have other things in mind.

"WINWIN HYUNG!"

He was jolted awake by the loud noise coming from his bedroom window. Half-awake, he peeked through the sheets to see what the commotion was about.

"Fuck off..."

Winwin grunted and grabbed the pillow under his head, throwing it with full force so that it ended up hitting Xiaojun on his chest.

They seem to have taken the hint because they all scrambled outside, laughing their asses off as they try to get away and avoid getting their asses kicked by a martial artist.

///

“Holy shit.”

Whoever he made out with (or had sex with) last night must’ve gone wild and tried to mark every part of him that she could place her lips on.

Winwin felt his heart sink. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who he was last night. Just like his body, the memories of her red lips lingered on his mind. But that’s about it.

That’s when the memories kicked in.

///

“What?”

He asked, already annoyed about how they’ve been acting all day, or at least, for the past two hours.

“Hendery saw you enter your room last night. With a girl,” says Kun.

“Uhh, duh?” Ten replied, raising an eyebrow at the older as he grabbed the butter knife and spread peanut butter over a piece of bread.

“How sure is everyone that it was a girl?” Yangyang squinted his eyes, trying to look intimidating as he interrogated his friend for further details about last night.

“Why is everyone so concerned if I fucked a girl or not? Or if I fucked someone at all?” Winwin replied in annoyance, coming out almost whiney, hoping that they would cut the questions out and leave him and his breakfast alone.