#'I understand the confusion and thank you but no'

[peace-hunter]

Hi! I love your Ghost Primes with Optimus AU! It’s so good.

I have a question though, do the Decepticons know that Optimus can see the 13 prime ghosts or do they just get increasingly confused each time they fight?

Thank you for the lovely artwork!!

oh they Know something funky is going on for sure lmao

a little more serious answer: they can tell something is going on with optimus and they desperately want to pretend it's not. they don't want to know how he's aware of things he shouldn't be, how he knows stuff that should have long been forgotten, how he seems to be more familiar with them than he should be. how sometimes he speaks and it's like the dead are talking through him. how sometimes he will answer to empty air and somehow they can just tell what he's responding to. who he is talking to.

they Know. and they really, really want to pretend they don't.

they already carry the guilt of failing them once. the idea of doing it once more is unbearable and they'd rather deceive themselves than face it. they'd rather their friends stay dead and gone rather than think of them seeing what they've become.

haunted au

[achillez-on-pawz]

Ah. this makes sense, thank you. I can understand the confusion, nonverbal as like, a verb, like non-speaking? But info is useful, /gen.

what would the definition of semi-verbal be /genq?

hey, if you’re a speaking person (or partially speaking due to speech loss episodes or what have you) and you hear another speaking person say shit like “going nonverbal” or “i’m semiverbal bc i go nonverbal sometimes”

stop that shit. program a button into your aac or keep a card in your communication cards or prepare a verbal script to inform others.

a bit lost as to what to say? try this one out for size:

“actually, nonverbal is a permanent state of not talking. it means you don’t talk ever, you don’t “go nonverbal”. some words to describe your experience could be, losing speech, speech loss episode, losing words, verbal shutdown…”

the nonverbal community does not need to do this on their own. we owe them that much.

spread the word like butter on toast yall! call out that shit when you see it.

[strwberri-milk]

Hello, can I please request Zayne with a partner who's struggling with their studies but they refuse to tell him because they feel insecure especially since he's basically a young prodigy in his field and they're scared of being judged?

Zayne knows that the way he went about his academic and professional journey isn't exactly traditional. He was all in from the beginning, dead set on doing anything and everything that it took. He attributes his success to his determination and thanks to it he also has tons of study tips.

He wants you to ask him for help but you don't seem very receptive to it. He aims to reach out to you, see if he could find a more low-key way of suggesting his help without making you feel bad. He asks you about the projects you're doing, the assignments you're working on but you never seem to respond well.

He'll ask you one day if you want his help at all. He just wants to help you out and support you but you won't even give him a chance to. He isn't upset or mad at you, just confused. He asks if you trust him enough to support you and that all he wants is to help you do some work. He understands if you just want space or to do your work separate from him for that sense of achievement.

When you confess your feelings he shakes his head, telling you that his measure of success and what he's achieved in his life isn't something that defines you. He assures you that he isn't going to judge you for not being in the top of your field - he knows how hard you work and that's ultimately all that really matters. He's there for you the entire time, celebrating all of your achievements no matter how big or small you perceive them.

[darnell-la]

Love your work! it’s so good, i was wondering if i could request another darkpervy!Logan and reader, She’s sleeping and he sneaks into her room and does whatever, you can decide if she wakes up or not and what they do, thank you!

note: we’ve been gone for a little, but we could never not come back with a dirty, dark, and pervy Logan Howlett post.

———

Logan wasn’t the type to think about secrets the group exposes on themselves on their drunk Friday nights, but what y/n had said earlier had been in his head for the last hour.

“Is it normal to, like, pass out after you finish? I’m not joking- Shop laughing!”

Everyone took what she said as a normal dirty secret, but Logan? God, he got hard within seconds of hearing her secret.

Now the man is outside of her room, listing through the thick door for her moans. He could tell she was close.

“F-Fuck,” y/n whined as her legs began to shake. Logan did his best to keep himself back from cumming right then. Her voice was enough to make a mess in his pants.

After Logan heard a few whines that sounded low and dead, he knocked on her door. He prayed she wouldn’t answer, and thank god she didn’t.

Logan quickly entered her room, closing and locking the door before anyone saw him in the hallway.

The man slowly turned around and met y/n’s sleeping body. She really wasn’t lying.

Logan was excited, heart pounding as his cock twitched. He knew tonight would be the best night he’s ever had.

“Can smell that pussy from over here…” Logan spoke low as he came up to her bed. He thought about taking his time, maybe eating her out or jerking off over her face, but he decided he needed to be in her.

Logan quickly undressed himself before hovering over her, getting in between her loose legs to spread them apart. “So perfect,” was all he could say.

Y/n isn’t too much of a heavy sleeper after she goes out after an orgasm, but for some reason, she hasn’t woken up yet. That orgasm had been one of the top bests.

“Gonna get this done quick and easy, okay, princes?” Logan spoke as he began pushing at her entrance, instantly feeling her tighten around his shaft. Logan groaned loudly as y/n whined, slowly waking up.

Y/n spoke, but Logan couldn’t understand her. She hadn’t even known what she said. She was out of it, and that only made her look better to the man.

“Keep it down, baby,” Logan said as y/n’s head slowly began to move, but she wasn’t fully awakened. She knew something was going on, but she felt pressure in her lower stomach and head. She felt a good kind of dizzy.

“So fuckin’ wet, Bub. You weren’t gonna tell me this? I thought we were close friends?” Logan said as his hands grabbed her lower body, pulling her into his now hard and deep thrust.

Y/n’s eyes squeezed before she tried opening them. She had failed a few times until they finally opened. That meant nothing though, as they were rolling to the back of her head from the sudden pleasure.

“Feels good, sweetheart? Tell me. Tell me you feel good, y/n”, Logan growled as he looked down at her smaller girl, watching her struggle to stay awake and take him.

“Lo?” Y/n asked, which came out as a whine. “Ah huh, I’m right here, baby. It’s me,” the man assured as her hands touched anywhere to grasp what was happening to her.

“L-Lo,” y/n whined, feeling his cock slip into her with ease as she grew more wet. Now she knew she was being fucked, but her brain still couldn’t comprehend the situation.

“Don’t worry — I’m close,” Logan spoke, confusing y/n as she slowly lifted her head. The young lady focused on what was thrust in and out of her cunt, and when she realized it, she couldn’t help but moan.

“Logan,” y/n whined, eyes still on the way his cock pushed into her. “You like it?” Logan asked again as one hand rested on the back of her head, keeping her up to see the view as the other strongly gripped her waist.

“I-I don’t know,” y/n said, but lord knew she loved this. “C’mon, Bub — Tell me you like it. You take me too good not to like it,” Logan said, feeling himself near. “I-I like it,” Y/n’s low voice echoed through his brain.

“Fuck yeah — You fuckin’ like it, baby? Like me having my way with your half-unconscious body?” Logan couldn’t stop thinking about how much he loved her being this way. He never knew this was a kink until earlier today.

“I-I do,” y/n replied right before a pool of cum gushed out of her. “Oh yeah, baby — That’s what I like to see,” Logan picked his pace up, feeling his cock goat h uncontrollably.

“Once I fill you up, I won’t be able to stop,”

[lamiadrowned]

Hey, how are you? Before I make my request, I wanted to say that I couldn't find your rules, so if the content of this request is not to your liking, please ignore it.

Could you please write Jinx fucking her girlfriend several times in a row and the reader ends up squirting?

ty ❤️

*:･ﾟ✧ all night, keep moving

jinx x fem!reader | nsfw

such a yummy request thank you! i’m currently working on a post for my request rules as well as a masterlist, so that should be up soon :)

“just one more, ‘kay?”

that’s a very common lie when jinx gets in this mood of hers– the one where she has all this steam to blow off. it’s never just one more, and to make matters worse, she never goes easy on you, either.

she’s repeated those words like a personal, but very dishonest mantra before the last three orgasms you’d had tonight. it’s no secret that her stamina is unmatched, but you can’t understand how her hand hasn’t already cramped up, or more absurdly, completely fallen off.

her middle and ring finger are thrusting in and out of you at a break-neck speed, sparks that feel like a crack of lightning going up your back each time she curls them into that spot that makes you see stars. the heel of her hand presses harshly into your clit with each movement. she’s on top of you, shirt long forgotten about somewhere on the floor of your room whilst you’re completely naked, and she’s grinning down at you with pride in how much of a mess she’s made out of you.

there’s an odd feeling stirring inside of your belly, somewhere deep and guttural. you arch your back and gasp when she thrusts especially hard, only worsening this unfamiliar sensation.

“jinx,” you cry, grabbing onto her wrist of the hand that is gently holding onto your neck to ensure that you can’t go anywhere. “too much!”

“oh, too much?” she mocks you. “c’mon, but you’re doing so good for me!”

you squeeze your eyes shut, a single tear running down your temple. “s-slow down!”

much to your surprise, jinx obliges this request. she slots her fingers inside of you and slowly continues to curl her fingers in a steady rhythm, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek. “i know, honey. it’s a lot, huh?” she mumbles sweetly, though you know she’s only teasing you. you nod regardless, inhaling her familiar scent in attempt to ground yourself– sweet peas and gunpowder. “don’t think you can take it?”

you whine in protest, grip tightening on her wrist. “i can! i can… i can take it,” you breathe through your whimpers.

“but you just said it was too much?” she feigns confusion as she tilts her head, only to see a couple more desperate tears fall from your eyes. the power she has over you gives her a head rush.

at this point, you have no chance of forming a coherent sentence, so you just close your shaking thighs around her hand in attempt to keep her there. she laughs, but moves her free hand down to spread them apart again, her nose slightly brushing yours. “you’re so fucking cute, you know that? can’t even talk,” she beams. then, her fingers speed up the rhythm of their ceaseless curling, her hand that was previously on your thigh now moving to rub your clit with her thumb. a gasp rips itself from your throat and you arch your back, crying out from the sheer pleasure and shock.

“there we go.” jinx encourages you, feeling your bruised walls tightening around her fingers with reckless abandon. “you gonna cum for me? yeah?”

your moans make up for the words you can no longer find. they bounce off the walls and fill jinx’s ears, a symphony she hopes to hear again and again, because just like you, she knows this won’t be the last time she pushes you over the edge tonight.

that feeling in your stomach builds to a peak that your body can no longer withstand, feeling as if you’ve been set on fire from the inside out. before you know it, your eyes are rolling back into your head, your body is arching into the girl on top of you– for a moment there, you totally black out.

but jinx? she’s sure to watch every second. her smile grows impossibly wide when she feels a splash of wetness against her hand, looking down to behold a sight that only spurs her on further. “look at that! jeez, babe!” she laughs breathlessly, looking up at you without stopping her ministrations.

you squirm and cry and use your hands to try pushing her away after a long few seconds, body burning with the overstimulation of her movements. luckily, she listens, and slows her wet hands down before running them up your waist. you slump against the bed, comforted by her touch and unbelievably exhausted. “i’m– i’m sorry,” you whisper, throat so sore you’ll have to make a mental note to check the bathroom cabinet for cough drops.

“you’re sorry?!” she gasps. then, she moves up to press a sweet bunch of kisses to your tear-stained face. your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks, your nose, and then, your mouth. “that was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen. i didn’t even know you could do that!”

“i didn’t either.” you huff out a pathetic laugh, weakly wrapping your arms around her shoulders to pull her down into a kiss. her teeth and tongue brush against your lips, which is one of many signs that she’s nowhere near done with you.

this suspicion is confirmed when she pulls away to start kissing at your neck. you thread your fingers through her long ribbons of hair and hum in satisfaction. “take a breather, alright? i’ll go get you some water. i’ve gotta make you do that one more time before you’re out of commission.” she speaks into your neck, her words sending another wave of arousal through your delicate system.

maybe you could stand to last a few more rounds. after all, there’s no such thing as ‘one more time’ with jinx.

[sloppilyeatinggrapes]

This is my secret sideblog so I'm just gonna. Not do it as an ask game, I just want to talk about podcasts!

1.) what’s the first podcast you listened to?

Welcome to Nightvale <3

2.) what’s a podcast you’ve cried over?

So many, but recently, Unwell!

3.) Favorite podcast pet? (Idk if that’s worded weird but like if one of the characters has a cat or smth)

I'm honestly not the biggest fan of podcast pets but there is ONE EXCEPTION which is Dumptruck from Find us alive

4.) what podcast has the best soundtrack/music?

Aaah there are many I like... One some might have missed is Dreamboy, which have a couple of bangers, or In Strange Woods, which is a WHOLE MUSICAL and I listen to the songs frequently. But my go to soundtracks are Friends at the table (thank you Jack deQuit). Honorable mention to Wolf 359 and Hallowoods who I think uses their osts SO WELL, giving me VISCERAL reactions when I hear the music out of context.

5.) what’s a podcast that you really like but find it kinda hard to follow the plot?

I have tried to listen to What's the Frequence so many times, it seems so intriguing and interesting as a concept, but I still don't know what even the basic plot is. I think it starts with a murder?

6.) what characters from different podcasts do you think would be friends?

Maybe this is a weird combo but I do think Diggory would be great Friends with Kai and X from Girl in Space. It's something about identity and bodies and being made with a purpose, and somehow still ending up being a pretty chill person.

I also think the demons from Brimstone Valley Mall (especially the teens) would be best hatefriends with the Hrose camp polecule. They are opposite sides but same kind of mall kids. Maybe they wouldn't be friends maybe I just want to watch the world burn

7.) what characters from different podcasts do you think would hate each other?

hmmm. Elias TMA and Keppler Wolf359. They are boss middle managers who think very highly of their own competence, have VERY different ideological base and would kill each other with knives over a cornchip

8.) what’s a podcast where you mix up the characters voices?

I have had this problem with A LOT of podcasts in the beginning, it usually takes me a while unless they are very distinct. I remember it being a problem with Mabel (literally two characters and I couldnt tell them apart...) and Syntax with two of the women side-characters. It took me so long to understand what their personalities were supposed to be, since I couldnt tell who said what.

9.) what’s a podcast that you know the characters so well you can recognize their breathing?

oooh hmm. I mean, Nightvale. It's been like 11 years after all. And Deck the halls with Matrimony!

10.) what’s a podcast that you wish you could listen to again for the first time?

oooh maybe The Penumbra podcast, specifically Juno! I think I got a weird impression of it because I listened to the OG, much rougher version of arc 1, it was really confusing and I got a very different idea about the characters in my head. Now when it's finished, I think it would be a better listen to just go through all of it as a blank slate! I also liked the end, and I think it found what it is about during the journey.

11.) what’s a podcast you’ve listened to more than once?

Most... If I like it I'll listen AT LEAST twice. But I have listened to Deck the Halls SO MANY TIMES because it's short and wrapped.

12.) what’s a podcast you wish more people listened to?

Having many fans is a double edged sword, but right now, Hallowoods and Hymns for the road. I think both would be so visually inspiring for fanart and oc's.

13.) what do you like to do while listening to a podcast?

Draw! Always!

14.) who is a podcast character that you love?

Leon from Greater Boston!

Diggory Graves from Hallowoods!

Brnine from Friends at The Table!

15.) who is a podcast character you can’t stand?

Genuinely? I did not like Cassius from Syntax... sorry... I just think they are too stupid for me.

16.) what songs do you associate with a certain character/ podcast?

oh man, Hoziers Eat your young with Hallowoods, Moss by cosmo shelldrake (for obvious reasons) with Hymns for the road, Haunted House by sir babygirl with Friends at the Table

17.) what’s a podcast that you can’t stop thinking about?

Bluff city (friends at the table), Hallowoods, Greater Boston and The Silt Verses. It's something about imperfect communities

18.) are their any podcasts that you regret listening to?

Yes. We're alive. Zombie podcast. Was waiting for it to subverse all the boring and bad cliches it set up. It didn't. It was 100 eps a 40 min. I have never been more mad

19.) whose your favorite podcast couple?

In canon, of course Cecil and Carlos. The OG!

Shipping wise its Leon and Michael from Greater Boston, Harley and Lancaster and Love and Radager from Find us Alive, Brnine and Valence from Palisade, Heard and Hector from Bluff city.

I also ship Malik from World gone wrong with the alien replacement of his ex. I WANT TO BELIEVE.

20.) whose a podcast character that you think would dress really cool?

Actually cool? Probably Riot or Olivier from HFTH. Cool as in interesting/fascinating? Cecil WTNV again.

Podcast themed ask game cause I’m bored!

1.) what’s the first podcast you listened to?

2.) what’s a podcast you’ve cried over?

3.) Favorite podcast pet? (Idk if that’s worded weird but like if one of the characters has a cat or smth)

4.) what podcast has the best soundtrack/music?

5.) what’s a podcast that you really like but find it kinda hard to follow the plot?

6.) what characters from different podcasts do you think would be friends?

7.) what characters from different podcasts do you think would hate each other?

8.) what’s a podcast where you mix up the characters voices?

9.) what’s a podcast that you know the characters so well you can recognize their breathing?

10.) what’s a podcast that you wish you could listen to again for the first time?

11.) what’s a podcast you’ve listened to more than once?

12.) what’s a podcast you wish more people listened to?

13.) what do you like to do while listening to a podcast?

14.) who is a podcast character that you love?

15.) who is a podcast character you can’t stand?

16.) what songs do you associate with a certain character/ podcast?

17.) what’s a podcast that you can’t stop thinking about?

18.) are their any podcasts that you regret listening to?

19.) whose your favorite podcast couple?

20.) whose a podcast character that you think would dress really cool?

[f1amour]

Hi!!! Could i request a 🍮 with verstappen that have “don’t you care about me at all?” Like angst but with a happy ending. Thank you!!!

❝ don’t you care about me at all? ❞ — max verstappen

pairing | max verstappen x reader

content warnings | angst, comfort, happy ending

★ join my short n sweet friendsgiving!

─────────────────────────

you watch him sleep peacefully while your mind is filled with negative thoughts; did he love you? why was he pushing you away? had you done something? it hadn’t been the best season only the first half was great then the car started having problems and then battling for the championship with lando it wasn’t easy. so you understand the stress he had and tried your best to be there for him but he’d push you away everytime.

he had a rough race? you’d be there ready to give him your supportive words and touch he used to love but it’s now turned into quick side hugs and kisses on the cheek. from flying to most of the races with him turned into staying at home taking care of jimmy and sassy and watching the race on the tv screen.

you put your slippers on and walked off onto your balcony as the sun was rising. you didn’t realize how much time passed as max walks out in his workout clothes saying he would be going to the gym with his trainer, “okay,” you mutter, your eyes still set on the view avoiding his eyes as best as you can. going to the gym when you have a home gym right here? but the words never come out and he leaves.

“she didn’t even look at me just said okay and that’s all. she’s always up early make breakfast and my smoothie always ready but i woke up to an empty bed. thought she wanted to spend the break together as much as we can.” max tells his trainer as they finished up their workout. max left the apartment confused from the cold shoulder you’d given him, “i mean, you haven’t let her join you the last few races you’ve had. it could be that? or the fact she’s always checking up on your through the team because you never tell her anything other than fine everytime she asks how you are doing and the car.” his trainer knocks him out of this trance he’s had for months now as he realizes what he had been doing.

that’s why he stands in the kitchen with your favorite flowers on the counter and take out food ready to talk and apologize but you don’t come after he calls for your name. he walks to your bedroom and you are nowhere to be seen until he reaches the balcony and he realizes you’ve been sitting in your same spot you were on when he had left. “schatje? why are you still out here? it’s freezing—.”

“don’t you care about me at all?” you finally look at him, your eyes red and swollen after crying for hours and in that moment his heart breaks because he was breaking yours. “seriously max, what am i to you? it feels like we’re just roommates who sleep in the same bed and that’s all. i tried. i tried to be the supportive girlfriend but you…you push me away. you talk to everyone but me. i care about you, so why don’t you care about me?”

max sits besides you and wipes your tears away before he kisses your head but you just push him away, “i deserve that. i deserve whatever anger you feel towards me right now. i do care about you. i may not have shown it recently and i am sorry for that, baby. i’ve been so frustrated with the car and with myself that i couldn’t bare for you to see me like this. you’ve been there since my first championship and now that it could be in jeopardy…i don’t you to see me fail,” he whispers, his feelings valid but it leaves you confused why he couldn’t tell you all this.

“so why push me away like that, max? i supported you at your best and at your worst. with or without a championship i’m gonna be by your side always. but you need to let me in all the way. you have you talk to me when you feel this way and i should have done the same—.”

“no. that wasn’t your fault. i was a very shitty boyfriend so i understand why you felt you couldn’t talk to me. i’m so so sorry, my love. i promise from now on i’ll communicate more,” he promises and you raise your eyebrows expecting more, “and let me go to races again? cant believe you used jimmy and sassy as a pawn for me not going to any.” your pout that makes him chuckle has the mood feeling lighter now.

“i was fucking miserable without you. never again.” he mumbles against your neck as you wrap your arms around him. “i’ve got your favorite food and flowers waiting in the kitchen for you, i love you”

“i love you. you’re the bestest…next time though if you ever say i can’t go to a race i’ll show up with the mercedes team.” you threaten with a smile on your face.

“okay now that is mean.”

[kastighur]

← back. ᝰ.ᐟ i’ll wait for you.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 homicipher. mr. crawling. angst ( i tried ). gn! reader // wc : 681

standing in front of the elevator doors, the human turned towards the crawling entity. staring at him with a solemn gaze as they knew what was bound to happen. though it didn’t look like he did.

“ thank you. “

you told him with a smile, one that was trying to hide the ever growing pain that spread throughout your chest.

“ …you go ? “

he asked and you confirmed it.

“ go together ! “

mr. crawling eagerly replied, moving slightly closer in preparation to enter the elevator with you.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to follow you, in fact, his presence would brighten up your lonely lifestyle in that dull apartment. but there were factors that needed to be considered.

firstly, how were you supposed to provide for both of you ? your space was barely enough for one, and if a 8ft ghost was added it was surely going to cramp up the area.

secondly, could he even survive in your world ? what would happen if other humans saw him ? if someone called the cops they would definitely find out about the late night activities you’ve been committing. plus if someone saw that he had skin for eyes….

of course, there were other problems at play but it would take too long to list them all.

with a heavy sigh, you kneeled down.

“ me go, one. “

his smile slowly disappeared.

“ one…? “

his typical bubbly booming tone in his voice now soft and flat.

“ me sad. “

to say your heart hurt was an understatement. it was the kind of pain that made you understand what a heartbreak truly felt like.

“ me wait for you ! “

he offered, beaming once again. he understood that you had a life before landing here. since the beginning he had been helping you find this very exit, and you made it ! he was happy for you but he didn’t understand that you would be gone forever. in his mind you would go through those doors and appear at that same spot where he found you.

“ you go ! me wait ! “

it’s been a while since you’ve felt that sting in your eyes.

“ oh mr. crawling.. “

you whispered in your own language, he tilted his head in confusion but he knew that you’d called him. having heard those two words a few times.

“ hurt ? pain ? “

he quickly asked, reaching out to check your head for injuries and doing a quick scan over your body.

you had to leave before your heart told you to stay. so you stood up and forced a smile.

“ thank you, goodbye. “

mr. crawling stared, then smiled, holding a hand up in an attempt to wave.

“ goodbye. “

the elevator doors opened, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in. you caught one last glimpse of mr. crawling before the doors whirred and finally closed.

mr. crawling waited and waited. he would just sit there and stare at those elevator doors which he last saw you. every few hours he would make his way back to where he found you first.

out of desperation he would search around. inside boxes, behind walls and such. maybe you were hiding just like last time.

every whir and creak that emitted would cause him to snap his head up filling him with hope. mr. silvair saw him smiling at the lift once and asked why, mr. crawling replied that you were finally coming back... but hours and hours passed and nothing happened.

usually, he would find a cramped area that he could squeeze into for comfort when he’s upset ( like a little meow meow ). now, he couldn’t bring himself to leave his spot. afraid that if he left and you returned, you would leave again, upset because he broke his promise of waiting for you.

mr. hood stumbled upon the scene once, seeing an ever growing collection of crowbars, wedding dresses, raincoats and…ears..? scattered across the ground.

a long time would pass before mr. crawling would finally break. his whines and whimpers echoing the quiet halls, at one point even trying to pry open the elevator doors.

“ miss you… come back… please. “

> wanted to try angst, but i lowk hate this one. maybe pt.2 where you come back ? idk.

© @kastighur

[band--psycho]

Vander x Reader - 5 Years Later...(Part 2)

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

Part 2 to my Vander x Reader series - Part 1

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Vander Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of grief, feeling of dega-vu

You knew the Undercity wasn’t the safest of places to go, at least that’s what your father had always told you. 

So why were you down here? 

Because as much as you appreciated your fathers protectiveness, what type of friend would you be if you let one of your closest friends go down there alone? 

A pretty shit one. 

Which is why, despite the risks, you went with Jayce down to the Undercity. 

Besides, seeing as you were training to be an Enforcer and Jayce was just a student at the academy it was basically your job to escort him and make sure that nothing happened to him; that’s at least what you’d tell Greyson if she asked where you’d been…and your parents, if they asked which you hoped they wouldn’t. 

“Remind me where we’re going?” You asked in a slightly hushed tone as the two of you turned a corner walking down a dimly lit alley, before 

“I need to get some supplies for a project I’m working on,” Jayce answered simply; with an optimistic gleam in his eyes. 

“What project?” you inquired, unable to keep your curiosity at bay; it had certainly been a while since you’d seen Jayce this excited about a project.

“It’s best I don’t tell you, until I can get it working,” he replied; his answer only furthering your curiosity, but perhaps it was for the best for you to know as little as possible…especially if the academy wasn’t aware of it, which by the seams of things, they weren’t. The less you knew the better; though it still played on your mind as the two of you continued walking through the Undercity.  

To most people the Undercity was just an underdeveloped land across the river, deep in the canyons,  beneath Piltover, filled with misfits and thugs; but as you walked through the lanes of the Undercity, you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it. 

The beauty of how vibrant the lights atop of the shops shone in the darkness; the difference of industrial architecture, making each building its own, if only in a little way.

It was different from Piltover, of course, but beautiful nevertheless. 

Since you'd arrived down here you couldn’t shake this feeling of deja-vu…like you’d been here before. 

It was odd. 

You’d never been down here; not once; so why did it feel so familiar?

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realised Jayce had stopped walking until you walked into the back of him. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, hearing a small chuckle fall from his lips. 

“Lost in your own world again?” he teased, turning around to look at you. 

You simply rolled your eyes at his comment and looked at the building you’d stopped outside; a pawn shop. 

You shot Jayce a confused look; you didn’t understand what this place had that any of the shops in Piltover didn’t; except from some anonymity. 

Down here no one knew him. 

But that only caused the curiosity you had about his project to grow. 

“Stay out here, I won’t be long,” he said before disappearing inside the shop. 

You went to follow him, before you heard a song in the distance, that halted your steps. 

You knew it. 

But you were certain you’d never heard it before…

How did you know a song from the Undercity? 

You turned on your heel, following the sound of the song; you knew it was risky, venturing off into the Undercity alone and you knew Jayce would be worried if he came back outside and noticed you gone, but you couldn’t help it. 

It was like your feet had a mind of their own and before you knew it, you’d come to the source of the music, it was a bar, or at least that’s what you assumed it was seeing as it was called ‘The Last Drop’ and had a logo of a tankard in the middle of the name. 

‘Why does this place seem so familiar?’ you thought to yourself, your eyes narrowing as you stared at the building in front of you. 

You were about to take another step, before you felt someone grab ahold of your wrist; instinctively your training kicked in and your guard went up, ready to fight. 

That was until you saw that it was Jayce who was holding your wrist; he was panting slightly with a worried look in his eyes, “I thought something had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, guilt washing over you, “I didn’t mean to worry you,” 

“It’s okay,” he answered softly, tugging on your wrist slightly, leading you away from the bar, “Let’s just get out of here.”

And with that the two of you made your way past the pawn shop Jayce had been in, passing a little boy with white hair leaning against the wall, he had a proud smile on his face that was until he saw you. 

You waved at him politely, confused about why he was staring at you; but the little boy said nothing, he just continued to stare at you, his mouth hanging slightly agape as you vanished out of his view. 

All you could think about as you made your way back to Piltover was how strange today had truly been. 

The deja-vu, the song, the bar, the little boy….none of it was making any sense….

~~~~~~

Vander hated seeing Vi hurt; he also hated that she was a mirror image of how he was when he was younger, so eager to rebel against the topsiders…but it wasn’t that simple. 

That’s what he was trying to get her to understand.

Every action had a consequence. 

He knew that better than anyone. 

He was the one who was too stubborn to call off the uprising, because he wanted to show Piltover that they were worthy of not being left behind on all the grand new ventures Piltover were indulging in; and because of that, he lost so many people that were close to him. 

But no ones ghost was more haunting than yours. 

He just needed Vi to understand that violence wasn’t the way to play this. 

He knew Greyson would probably be paying him a visit soon; the kids, unintentionally, broke an agreement that he’d made with the current sheriff of Piltover, to keep a peace between topside and the Lanes. 

A peace that was now hanging by a thread. 

Once he was sure Vi’s injuries were clean, he rose from the table and began putting away the supplies he’d used to clean her cuts. 

“Vander…there’s something else,” Vi began, halting Vanders movements and making his attention focus back on her. 

“Go on,” he  said calmly, though in his mind he was dreading the next words that were going to come out of her mouth; she’d just been part of blowing up a building in Piltover, what more could there be.

“Ekko said….he said he saw Y/n,” 

Her words short-circuited his mind at the mention of your name.

“What?” he asked; thinking that maybe, somehow, he’d misheard what Vi had said. 

“He said he saw Y/n walking with that topside guy that came into the shop,” she repeated, noticing how Vanders eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to process her words. 

“That was partly why I went up there….to see if she was there,” she continued, rising from her seat, walking over to Vander and placing her hand on his arm. 

She knew how much Vander loved you. 

She knew how much losing you broke him. 

She knew how much losing you hurt both her and Powder; who’d grown so close to you in the few years prior to the uprising. 

That’s why she wanted to be sure that Ekko wasn’t wrong; she’d barely believed him herself when he first told her, but before the explosion happened, she was sure she heard your voice; but without actually seeing you, she couldn't be sure if it was you or if it was just the wishful thinking in her mind.

“She’s dead, Vi,” Vander stated; his voice remaining balanced; although the look in his eyes showed a growing sadness. 

“You’ve never believed that,” 

It wasn’t a lie; he didn’t believe it. 

He might’ve said that you were dead; but Vi knew that deep in his heart, he had never believed it.

He never found your body; and without your body, he could still cling on to the hope that you were alive. 

Vi never really understood why he couldn’t believe your death was real; but now she knew that he was right all along. 

“Ekko got it wrong, it can’t have been her.”

“Vander, he knows what she looks like….” Vi tried to counter, they all knew what you looked like from the photos Vander kept of the two of you; but Vander just went back to putting away the medical supplies before heading to the stairs. 

“He got it wrong,” he answered back, slightly harsher than he’d intended to,before leaving the basement entirely and heading to his own room. 

He all but collapsed onto the side of your bed; his eyes landing on the photo of you he kept on his bedside table. 

You were dead.

That’s what he kept telling himself. 

That’s what he'd had to tell himself for the last five years to keep his own sanity. 

But there was a little voice in the back of his head, a voice that reignited his failing hope…what if you weren’t…what if what Ekko said was true…?

Vander didn’t know what to believe….the memories from that day flooding back into his mind as the pain he’d felt re-entered his heart, tears fell from the Hound Of The Undergrounds eyes, as he tried to work out what to believe. 

What if all these years you’d been alive? 

Why were you in Piltover? 

Why hadn’t you come back to him? 

Did you blame him for what happened on the bridge….did you blame him for the deaths so many people had succumbed to…? 

Is that why you never came home?

So many thoughts were running through his mind; but even if his mind hadn’t settled on a decision, his heart had; he needed to find out the truth. 

And he would; just as soon as he’d smoothed everything out with Greyson about today's incident.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-lone-librarian @conretewings @barbersjoy @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @newlosadventures @eternalgoddessofart @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @nagislemontea @dazecrea

I apologise in advance to those who have asked to be on the taglist and aren’t - I’m not ignoring you, I just can’t tag you in it for some reason :(

[maxmaxsupersupermax]

Max doesn't see Charles until he's two beers and almost two gin and tonic's in. He's seen most other drivers, at least in passing and he'd asked (GP, because he understands Max is a little...insane about Charles) about him, but GP had been a bit cryptic and told him that Charles lost his mind a little on the radio.

Which had confused Max for a second. What happened? Max hadn't done anything, right?

He hadn't put up much of a fight, not like he normally would. He wasn't racing Charles today (soon, his mind supplies, soon). He just needed to be ahead of Lando, no risks.

He'd done that. He'd been good.

So what had Charles done?

'Charles!' It doesn't matter anyways. Charles looks up from the floor. He's got a guy in a Ferrari jacket with him that Max doesn't immediately recognize.

When Charles spots Max, he smiles. He hadn't been smiling before. 'Max, congratulations.'

A few of the guys are trying to guide Max to a car and Martijn is blowing up his phone, but Max pulls away and approaches him. The man in the Ferrari jacket looks unamused, but Max is the World Champion, what is he going to do?

'Thanks mate.' Max says.

To his surprise, Charles steps into his space and gives him a short, but firm hug. 'You absolutely deserve it. You have been outstanding this year.'

Max feels his cheeks flush. 'Thanks. Are you coming out?'

Charles makes a face and looks over his shoulder at the Ferrari employee. 'I have a very unpleasant debrief to go to.'

'After, then. Come join us. Let loose.' Max says, pleads. 'I'll text you the address.'

Another glance over his shoulder, but Charles smiles at him. 'If I'm allowed, I'll come.'

Max grins at him and, like an idiot, gives him a thumbs up. 'Awesome.'

Charles looks very amused by him, but his smile fades. 'Alright, bye now Max. Enjoy your celebrations.'

Charles' chin dips back down as he turns to leave. Max doesn't know what he's done, or what this is all about, but he knows Charles shouldn't look like that.

'Hey,' Max calls and Charles stops and looks at him. 'keep your chin up, yeah?'

Charles seems to straighten up almost on autopilot. He lifts his chin and then smiles gently.

'Thank you, Max.'

He's not sure what for but he'll take it. 'Yeah, of course. Hey and, whatever you've done, I'm sure I've done worse and look at me.' He grins, motioning at the World Champion hat he's got on.

Charles' eyes dart up to it and Max swears he can see a flash of steel, a sharp edge of determination in those green eyes.

But then the calls of his name get louder and his phone starts ringing, Martijn no doubt, and Charles is waving at him and walking away.

Max might be imagining it, but he swears Charles is standing taller now.

[pandorascripts]

Familiar By Thy Side pt 2

super excited to share part two with all of you!! sorry it’s been a bit since I updated, my school clubs are starting up and I’ve been figuring out all my stuff as I go.

relationships: (drumroll) Agathario/Reader!

lots of yall said it should be agathario/reader, so I’m delivering! thank you for all the feedback :)

warnings: uhhh, I don’t think there’s any, but who knows.

The next time you’re able to remember current events, you’re laid down on a dock, in nothing but your wet undergarments. With a loud gasp, you shoot up, chest rapidly rising and falling. Everything is overwhelming, the noise of the lake, the splashing and laughter, the bristle of trees’ leaves, the creaking of the dock — it’s too much, everything is too much. You can’t recognize anything, your whereabouts completely unknown as the cold sinks into your achy bones and shaky fingers. 

Finally, you see someone just barely familiar. Nicholas, laughing and splashing his Mother just twenty feet off to your side in the shallow waters. With a hard breath, you look around and try to focus on regaining your senses. Previously dirty skin is shining clean again, your hands brushing over it in confusion. Agatha had bathed you? The thought of being unconscious and vulnerable makes your spine shiver, gaze hardening at Agatha. The moment you fully look at her, really recognize her, you have such a hard time hating her. The smile plastered on her raw face, laughter so hard she’s forced to wheeze and turn her back from her boy, she looks human to you for the first time in, well, however long you’ve been with them. 

Nicky is the first to notice you, his smile still wide as he waves to you. Agatha snaps her head to your direction, icy blue eyes running along your posture for a good read. There’s a subconscious relent in Agatha when she realizes how scared you are right now. There’s so much familiarity in that showcase of fear for her, that she’s slightly taken aback by the memories of nights when she was younger and afraid. A low growl dies down into a clearing of her throat, Agatha turning away. 

“Nicholas, you’ll get frozen if we’re here any longer,” she states, but Nicky knows it’s a demand. 

He pouts but doesn’t argue with his mom, waddling out of the water that Agatha easily cruises through. Her outfit matches yours — nothing but undergarments, and it’s clear that they had been playing in the water for quite some time. A weird thought festers in your mind, happy that despite being apathetic to everything, Agatha knows that her son is but a boy and deserves to have fun. 

By the time Agatha and Nicholas are fully dressed in their slightly damp clothes — ones you haven’t seen before, so you realize they must’ve been stolen during your lights-out phase — the embarrassment settles in. You feel even more vulnerable now, the only one absolutely indecent enough for viewing. Agatha lets Nicholas head back to their makeshift camp just some odd feet out, her journey steering to open a medium-sized leather pouch, and take out some clothes. Silently, Agatha walks down the doc to toss them in your lap. 

“What did you do to me?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, more so questioning how she managed to subdue you so easily. 

“Bathed you. Nothing more nothing less.” 

The sharpness of her tone makes you realize she believes you to be questioning something else, a small flinch on your face. 

“Not that, that I understand well. The time I was awake, we were fighting, and then…” 

“Then I came to the smart conclusion you were too shambled to make such a journey and made it so you did not kill Nicky, nor I,” she answers, still on the defensive. 

You don’t argue back with her. Neither do you even try to dry off with anything, immediately trying to put on your clothes. 

“Wait.”

You stop at her words, convinced it was her magick rather than your obedience. “What?” 

Agatha walks off the dock, leaving you confused on whether or not you should continue. She turns her back to you again a couple seconds later, heading down the platform before tossing you a damp rag. 

“To dry. These clothes will be yours next few days, nothing wet against your skin will be comfortable enough for our journey. We leave tonight again.” 

You wet your lips, holding the rag before looking up at Agatha. Seeing her this close, it’s no wonder she was able to lure in many with a beguiling feeling of comfort. Agatha is motherly in many of her actions, even when she’s killing witches, surprisingly enough. Motherly or not completely monstrously, you’re not sure. 

“Thank you, Agatha,” you say softly, her name foreign on your tongue. 

“Make haste, the sun will set in a few hours time.” 

A simple nod from you has Agatha walking over to her son, your hands working to dry off your body with the rag. It’s slightly rugged, a little ripped and the edges are frayed. Although, you can’t be too picky, you suppose. Agatha almost gave you nothing. You’re not sure why she didn’t, why she let you dry off. It truly wouldn’t have been that uncomfortable for you, walking all that distance would’ve heated your body up and in turn the clothes would’ve probably helped cool you down. You turn around on the dock to run the rag over your chest, Agatha’s mean eyes running along your back. 

In her own mind, Agatha is beating herself up over giving you that rag. Why did she care if you were comfortable? If anything, Agatha only wants you to be uncomfortable around her, to be scared around her. It’s much easier that way, for you to be terrorized into obedience. She’s not sure, but maybe after being in your mind during the week in Salem she saw one too many correlations between you and Her. Agatha clenches her jaw, refusing to believe that after six years clean she’s genuinely letting herself feel the things she long ago buried about Rio. The name sends shivers down her spine, eyes running to find her boy. He’s nestled against a tree, fixing his hair into a braid. The facial expression she finds on him is way too similar to Rio’s mouth open in concentration, nose tilted up. Agatha comes to the realization that she can never get away from the sound of the woman that loves her, and it haunts her. Rio’s voice in the mornings, her small touch throughout the day, the sweet laugh she let out at Agatha’s off-colored jokes, everything that was and is Rio stays within Agatha. Her eyes fall down to her hands, balling them up tightly before she lets go of them with a sigh. 

You walk down the dock, fully dressed and mainly dry. Wet against your neck is your hair, but you simply scrunch it up and keep it behind your shoulders. Agatha is moving Nicky up, sitting behind him as she starts softly speaking to him and doing his hair for him. The braid wasn’t the best, so Agatha simply undoes it and starts over. He doesn’t seme to mind, lost in the conversation as he drags a stick through the dirt to spell out his name. The scene is a little too vulnerable and familial for you to want to engage in, even if you’re more calm than when you first woke. There’s some slight gratitude you feel for Agatha, considering that she didn’t completely undress you when bathing you. Despite the slight awkward dampness of the materials against your skin, it’s something to be thankful for. 

You’re too caught up in trying to figure out everything that happened — stubbornly refusing to ask Agatha — that you don’t notice her sit next to you. Of course, there’s still a couple feet of distance from the two of you, but you’re unsure why she wouldn’t sit by Nicholas. Until you realize he’s not here. 

“Where is the boy?” you ask, your body more unsettled without him. This makes no sense, and you know it, but you swear Agatha is almost human around him. Despite that she’s killed in front of the boy, openly explained that she kills witches to him, and still speaks down to you around him, it just feels safer when he’s around. 

“Off to harvest some berries past that brush,” she replies, and you’re almost surprised she actually does. 

You just stay quiet, a slight nod of your head as your eyes lock on the fire. 

“Salem was just fine, in case you were wondering,” mumbles Agatha, sniffling after as if to cover up everything she just said. 

“Have they still been killling witches?” 

There’s a small laugh from Agatha, her head shaking slightly. “Oh, please, we were much too clever to be killed during then. Those women were married to the worst of the worst, and killed simply so their husband could marry younger or justify his continuous infidelity.” 

“We?” you ask, head turning to stare at Agatha. You weren’t aware that she was living in Salem during those times, but then again, you’re not sure how old Agatha actually is. “Yes, we. Womanhood came to me after spending my youth in that town. I left soon after.” Agatha’s tone at the end, her licking her lips and turning her head too, tells you that there’s something there — a story, no doubt, but you don’t question. 

“Must have been quite fearful, I’d imagine.” 

“They couldn’t catch us, dear, only a few were ever caught.” 

The fire is crackling, your hands reaching out to warm up over the flames. Agatha watches, the way your hair falls off your shoulder and over, her eyes running along your clothes. You’re maybe in your early twenties, or older - it’s hard to tell with witches. Her body is way to relaxed with you so near, but she doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because she’s sure you’re magic isn’t as strong or because she’s sure you’re not skilled at all. Either way, Agatha doesn’t like it. 

You don’t react to the word “dear” slipping from her mouth, certain its’ just another way to degrade you and poke fun. It doesn’t bother you. You don’t let it. 

“Man has never been smart, have they?’ you chuckle out, flashing her a small smile. 

Agatha responds with a shake of her head, pursing her lips. “Not much, no.” 

Silence absorbs the both of you for a couple minutes, up until Nicholas stumbles through the brush. He’s brushing off some burs with a distasteful look. 

“They’re so sharp,” he mumbles, very displeased with his clothes being covered in spikey balls. There’s a small smile from you, your hand lifting up to drop down. Just as the action is completed, all the burs fall from his clothes, his head snapping up to look at his mother. 

“Thank you, mama.” “Don’t look at me, boy, that had nothing to do with me,” she chuckles slightly. “Would’ve been quite entertaining watching you flounder about a bit longer.” 

Nicholas laughs slightly at his mom’s teasing, his eyes turning to you. “You then? Thank you.” 

Turning back to the fire, you remain quiet as Agatha and her son converse together, the sun starting to fall. You still aren’t clear how long had passed since you last remember anything, but you’re too nervous to talk. Wringing out your hands, glaring at the fire only to occasionally look at the duo before you, you can’t find a good enough time to interject. 

There’s a small huff from Agatha, her annoyed look turning to face you. “You’re loud.” 

“Excuse me?” you ask out, a little bewildered at her statement.

“Your mind that is, you’re insufferable. What is it you need?”

Closing your gaping mouth, you blink a bunch before relenting. “How long was I — how long did you have control over me?” 

Agatha wets her lips, turning back to the fire. “Maybe around eight days, including a portion of today.” 

Eight days. It had been eight whole days. You swallow thickly, looking down to stare at the dirt below. She had been in your mind, controlling you, full access to everything for eight whole days. You feel perturbed at this information, wetting your lips down as you struggle to come to terms with that. What had she done in there? What had she seen? What had she messed up? What had she learned? It feels like a violation to you, your head turned away from her. 

Apathetic to your discomfort, Agatha goes back to talking with Nicky about his day and what he found in the forest. 

The next few days are spent silently for you, simply walking alongside Agatha. You wish you could’ve been behind her, away from her, but she insisted you go next to her to negate any chance of betrayal from you. Far too tired to argue and far too worried she’d overwhelm your mind again, you just gave in. During this journey, you didn’t car to ask her where you all were going, you just walked. And walked. And walked. 

The group of you walked for days until reaching a newly-named settlement called Philadelphia, which had started booming since being labeled. Weirdly enough, Agatha was able to swindle an older man into letting the three of you crash, despite having no way of paying him back and being covered in grime. You watched the way she did it, hand on his bicep, straightening out his lapels, and showering him with praise. Alongside sickening you, you were intrigued. Agatha was a sight to behold, you were well aware of her beauty, but you and Nicholas being included on the deal? He was but a boy, and you weren’t ever the most attractive in your eyes, so how is it that he let all of you stay? 

Being rushed into his home by Agatha’s hand on your back made you forget your questions, slugging into the room he offered and laying down on a couch in the corner. There were two beds, one for Nicholas and one for Agatha, so you assumed you’d be cramped up here for however long the stay lasted. 

You were partially right. Agatha dumped her small amount of belongings onto the second bed, sorted them out into things that needed washing and things that were clean, doing the same with her sons too. Nicky sat on the first bed, shoes neatly tucked below as he took off his coat and fixed the collar of his shirt. 

Agatha grouped up all of the clothes, put them into a bag, and handed Nicky two coins and the pouch. “Round down to the market, Nicky. Find a woman willing to launder our clothes and pay her well for her troubles.” 

He gave his mom a look, a little shocked he was allowed to go out on his own, but he nodded his head and listened. Just as he slid off the bed, Agatha held his shoulder and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Be quick, be kind, and use any extra to get yourself something you like.” 

Nicholas smiled widely at his mom, nodding his head before sprinting out when he was dismissed. Agatha started to fold the cleaner clothes, nestling them in the dresser nicely. 

“How did you manage to convince that man?” you ask softly, sitting up on the couch. 

Agatha turns her head to look at you, fixing her hair by tucking it just under her ear. “I’m persuasive.” 

“There was more than that, d’you’re magick permit you to do so?” 

Her lips are pursed as you push further, a small sneer on her face. “It is nothing of your concern, be grateful you’ve a placed to rest that isn’t dirt, girl.” 

Agatha is cruel in her words, so you settle for questioning when she’s in a much better mood. Your questions are only making her feel more at odds with herself, hating the way those powers only work on men. After all, Agatha would much rather have her succubus powers sway women, at least there could be something more she could get out of it. Now she’s to deal with this man trying to hit on her, much more disturbing when she’s with her young boy, but Agatha won’t risk disturbing her magick at work. The last thing she needs is this man kicking them out, or far worse, claiming witch because he was rejected by her. 

Nicky comes back twenty minutes later, hands full with two trinkets, and a wide grin. His eyes are sparkling as he runs up to Agatha. 

“Mama, this nice lady just minutes out from here gave me these — free of charge, she said!” he laughs out, setting them on the bed which previously held clothes.

“Nicky, get them off the bed. Lord knows where they’ve been.” Agatha directs the boy with her hands, moving him out of the way as she does it herself. Whilst holding the items, her face pales and she glares. “Who gave you these, boy?” 

“A woman, Mama, a kind lady.” 

“A kind lady she is not, not if she tried her hardest. Nicky, you stay inside, no matter what.” 

You watch Agatha, seeing her truly unsettled for the first time. The items as you look at them, are slightly odd, but nothing to signify anything perilous. One is a small painting of a flower, some sort of dipladenia if you can remember correctly. The other is a small, festive skull, something from the Spaniards’ holiday Día de los Difuntos, you reckon. There’s no reason Agatha should be this uptight over a simple gift from a townswoman. 

Still, you keep quiet as you fon’t want to upset her any more. Nicholas is slightly distraught, watching his mother behave like this. She looks over at you. 

“Watch the boy and stay here.” 

With that, Agatha turns on her heel, coat lagging behind in her twirl, and slams the bedroom door behind herself. Nicky sits on the bed, his hands playing with the sheets as looks at the items Agatha threw down. The painting of the flower is in his hands, fingertips running over the medium used. There’s a hint of pity you feel for the boy, a small forwn on her your face as you move to sit next to him. The bed creaks. 

“D’you know what flower that is?” you quietly query. He shakes his head. “It’s a diplandenia. A Rio Diplandenia. They take almost no care from others and thrive, very low maintenance from it’s maintainers. Beautiful, no?” 

Nicky nods his head, looking up at you. His eyes are a little glossy. “A Rio?” 

“Yes, boy, a Rio.” 

For some reason, that brings a smile to his face. You’re not sure why, but you just smile back and watch him, your hand moving some of his hair behind his ear. “Whatever reason your mother has for acting like this, I’m sure it will be alright in the end. No need to fret over her antics.” 

Nicky nods his head. “I’m not worried, I know what’s to come.” “Oh, do you now? Forgive me for not taking you as divination warlock,” you laugh slightly, bumping his shoulder. 

Nicholas shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you. “No, no, not like that. I’ve just — I’ve got an ease within me. I know I’m okay, that I will be. I just worry for Mama.” 

“Your mother is quite the strong witch, boy, she will be fine as well as you will.” 

Nicholas looks like he’s on the brink of saying something, but his mother comes through the door, two bags full of what you assume are stolen travel items. 

“Nicholas, these bags, now.” 

Nikcy runs over to his mom, grabbing them and checking their fastenings. You kick his shoes out from under the bed, sliding them over to him. With your back turned to the group, you grab the painting of the flower and slip it under your clothes with the intent to give it to Nicky later. 

In just ten minutes you’re out the door, your eyes just barely catching sight of a gray hand behind a corner wall. You swallow loudly, but remain vocally silent. 

You’re not sure how many days pass when you’re thinking clearly again, too caught up in wondering why Agatha was so uptight to even care. The knowledge that Agatha has full access to your thoughts doesn’t hit you until after all your hard thinking. Agatha hasn’t said anything about it, so you assumed she either blocked you out or was too focused on moving to care. 

[genderqueerdykes]

howdy, this may be a stupid question but I saw a post of yours talking about how men can be lesbians and I'm just a little confused? can some men be lesbians just because they identify with the label? and If people of any gender can be lesbians what does being a lesbian mean? my understanding may be flawed so I would really appreciate help in understanding :3

hello there! not a stupid question!

yep, men can be lesbians simply by identifying with the label, that's all there really is to it! that's how every queer identity except intersex works, in fact! in recent years, we've begun welcoming non binary people into lesbian and gay spaces- so why can't we open the doors to other people? this can be for a variety of reasons why a man would identify as a lesbian, transmascs and trans men who started in the lesbian community and still feel a connection to that identity, bi/multigender men, genderqueer men, genderfluid men, intersex men, bi and pan men who feel like their attraction is gay and lesbian instead of gay and straight, lesbian trans women who are also men, the sky is really the limit!

it's a bit complicated to define what terms like "gay" and "lesbian" truly mean, because they don't exist in a static vacuum that can encompass everyone in that given community. every lesbian has a different definition of what lesbian means. many lesbians believe that it strictly means cis women being attracted to cis women, which is definitely not how lesbianism works at all. no two queer people will ever define a queer term the same way. a lesbian is anyone who identifies as one. it can be a queer woman, non binary person, or man, or a gender well beyond that. or no gender at all.

for example, there's a loooooonnnngggg history of trans women who are also gay. many trans women still identify as gay and with the gay community even well after transitioning and not identifying as a man anymore. this has been a well documented experience since the dawn of the modern queer community in the United States, so why can't we extend the same to men and lesbianism?

when i say i'm a lesbian, i mean a lot of things. i do experience queer attraction to women ofc, but for me, lesbianism is about community and expression. it's about my love for other lesbians, dykes and sapphics, not just women. i'm a lesbian-oriented person. i resonate with the community, history, and culture. i feel right at home hearing about other lesbians' struggles and experiences with gender, expression, identity and sexuality. i see myself in other lesbians, dykes, and sapphics, and just because i'm (partially) a man doesn't mean i have to give all of that up!

i hope that makes sense! most queer identities don't have a concrete definition when you get down to brass tacks. for example "genderqueer" is not something that's easily defined at all. people love to argue about what it "really" means but there's no one answer to that. the same goes for lesbianism. the experience is too broad to be able to be defined simply by saying a lesbian is is a woman attracted to women. identity and lived experience is too varied and complex for that

feel free to have any more questions you may have! if you'd like, i highly recommend looking into the life and works of Leslie Feinberg, a transmasculine butch lesbian revolutionary and queer activist who had to transition into manhood in order to feel like hirself as a butch lesbian. zie identified as multigender and never gave up hir lesbian identity, even after living as a man for many years. it was vital to hir butch lesbian identity :) thanks for stopping by, i appreciate you asking!

[weemssapphic]

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 26

previous chapter | series page

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

words: ~ 4.7k | ao3 link in title

A/N: after a little over a year and a half, we've reached the end of this fic - never did I ever think that that smutty one shot would turn into 26 chapters and over 90k words. thank you, deeply, for everyone who has stuck around til the very end, even when it sometimes took me ages to update. thank you to everyone who commented, sent me asks, inspired me to keep writing. I felt this was the most authentic way to end the fic - I hope you like it! and let me know if you want to see more of these two 🥰

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You could sense Larissa tensing up beside you at the sound of the voice, her eyes widening as they fixated on the doorway behind you. Turning in confusion, your eyes landed on a woman clad all in black, with long dark hair and a sultry air about her. Though you’d never seen this woman before in your life, between her sense of style and Larissa’s reaction it wasn’t hard to deduce that you were now face-to-face with Morticia Addams. Your grip on Larissa’s hand tightened, your knuckles turning white. 

Morticia began to glide towards the bed with unparalleled elegance, stopping only when she seemed to finally register your presence by Larissa’s side. Her gaze drifted down to your intertwined hands, lingering there for what seemed to be half an eternity. Her expression went from confusion to interest and, finally, as she met your own (definitely hostile) gaze, shifted to understanding. 

“Wednesday told me you’d been seeing someone.” Morticia’s eyes were still on you, but her words were clearly directed at Larissa. “I assume this is her?”

“Y/N,” you said rather coldly, introducing yourself before Larissa could respond.

“It’s a pleasure,” Morticia replied, painted lips curling up into a smile that was as seductive as it appeared to be sincere. 

“I wish I could say the same,” you growled under your breath. Morticia clearly heard you, but her smile never faltered. 

“Darling…” Larissa whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking.

Morticia laughed, the sound melodic. “She’s feisty, I like her.” 

You scowled, wrinkling your nose.

“What are you doing here?” Larissa’s expression showed confusion and annoyance in equal measure, and she was clearly trying her best to speak powerfully and clearly, though her voice faltered on the last syllable. 

“Can’t I check on my best friend after she nearly dies?”

Larissa’s own grip on your hand tightened, and you squeezed back in a show of reassurance and solidarity. “We haven’t been best friends in decades.”

The smile dropped right off Morticia’s face and she crossed her arms, an uncomfortable silence shrouding the room. “I know,” she whispered finally. “And I know that’s mostly my fault. But when Wednesday told me what happened, I had to come see you.”

“Well, you’ve seen her,” you hissed. Morticia smiled a little sadly - she deserved it, you thought. You would never forget the way Larissa had spoken of the way Morticia had treated her, as though Larissa had meant nothing to her - as though Larissa wasn’t good enough for her. The memory alone made your blood boil, and you were certain your anger and contempt at Morticia were visible on your face.

“I’ve always cared about you, Larissa…” The way Larissa’s name rolled off Morticia’s tongue left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you bit your tongue in a desperate attempt not to snap at the dark-haired woman.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Larissa croaked out.

“That may be true. But I do care all the same. I’m glad you’re recovering.”

You watched Larissa’s face carefully for her reaction - her emotions were at war with one another and she was, for once, too exhausted to try to mask it. She closed her eyes, leaning back against her pillows with a frown on her face, deep lines forming between her eyebrows.

“I appreciate you checking in on me,” Larissa said finally, sounding more resigned than anything as she attempted to remain diplomatic. She opened her eyes and pinned Morticia with a tired gaze. “I hope you’ll excuse me, I’d like to rest a bit more before I’m discharged tomorrow.”

It was an elegant way of kicking Morticia out, and the raven-haired woman seemed to have gotten the hint. She gave a curt nod and smiled graciously. “I’m sure our paths will cross again at Nevermore.”

Once she reached the doorway, Morticia turned back to face the two of you, looking at Larissa with a sort of soft fondness that you wouldn’t have expected from her. “She’ll take good care of you, this one.” Her gaze briefly flicked in your direction, not deterred by the frown on your face. Then she disappeared, closing the door gently behind her.

You turned back to Larissa to find her already watching you, her gaze soft and affectionate, her lips turned up into a smile that bordered on love-drunk - her expression so different than it had been with Morticia just moments ago. She laughed at the way you glowered at the door, her laugh turning into a slight cough.

“Don’t be jealous, darling…” she hummed shakily as her cough subsided.

“I’m not,” you said adamantly, though apparently not quite convincingly enough, for Larissa’s smile grew even wider. 

“There’s not a single alternate universe where Morticia and I are right for each other, where I’m not irrevocably in love with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you pressed your forehead to Larissa’s. “I love you,” you whispered. “I’m not jealous, I just hate the way that Morticia makes you feel. I want you to be happy…”

Larissa cupped both of your cheeks and tilted your head, until your lips were a hair’s breadth away from her own and her eyes had to dart back and forth to be able to meet yours. “I am happy,” she said adamantly. “You make me feel special.”

“You are special, Larissa.”

Larissa’s lips brushed against your own, the kiss soft and tender. You had little privacy in the hospital room, but still you could feel every ounce of love Larissa had for you in the way that she kissed you, and you smiled against her lips.

~~~

“Darling?” Larissa asked somewhat hesitantly that evening, as you’d just come back into the room from going to the restroom. She wrung her hands in her lap and her mouth was turned into an apologetic frown, and you cocked your head to the side as you perched yourself at her bedside.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just realized I don’t have my car here. Would you be able to drive me back to Nevermore when I’m discharged in the morning?”

Your brows knit together in confusion - you’d already assumed that’s what you’d be doing. “Of course. I asked Cass to drop my car off here tonight, I left it at Nevermore.”

Larissa seemed taken by surprise at the matter-of-factness in your tone. Her lips curled into a tiny smile, though her brow was still furrowed. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Larissa…” You bit the inside of your cheek as you considered your words carefully. “Have you thought about how you’re going to get by when you’re back at Nevermore? I mean, you might need help or something for a few weeks, you know, getting around and things…”

Larissa stayed silent for a moment, clearly contemplating. “I should be fine.”

You frowned at her stubbornness. “Okay… let me word that differently… I know you can take care of yourself, but I would feel better if you let me help you. If you want me to, that is…”

“I don’t want to burden you, darling,” Larissa said softly, running a hand through your hair - the intimate gesture felt so nice, and you leaned into her touch. “You have other things going on, you should focus on your studies.” Her smile was warm and affectionate but her gaze was a little sad, and you took her hand in yours and placed a kiss to her knuckles.

“You’re not a burden, Larissa. I want to help you recover, that’s what I’m here for. The semester is almost over anyway, aside from exams I wouldn’t really have to drive to Burlington much until after the holidays.”

You could practically see the cogs turning in Larissa’s brain, her brow furrowed as her eyes darted between your own - no doubt looking for some miniscule hint of insincerity or hesitance in your own gaze, which she certainly wouldn’t find. “Would you… be alright with staying at Nevermore for a little while, then?”

Larissa sounded almost shy, and you grinned and adopted a playful tone. “Larissa Weems, are you asking me to move in with you?”

Larissa’s cheeks grew red and she wrinkled her nose at your teasing. “Only if you’d like to…” she said after a moment, her tone soft and gentle. “You know there’s enough room for both of us.”

A feeling of absolute giddiness bubbled up inside of you - the circumstances might’ve been less than ideal but, regardless, the idea of living with Larissa was enough to make you swoon. Waking up every morning to her beautiful face on the pillow beside you, burrowing into her arms each night - your definition of heaven on earth.

“You know I’m not going to say no to that.” Your grin was so wide that it smoothed out the crease between Larissa’s brows, and she pulled her hand from between yours to cup the back of your neck and tug you in for a kiss.

~~~

Both you and Larissa were awake early the morning she was discharged, both of you too excited and too nervous to sleep. You pottered about the hospital room, packing your belongings up and gathering the flowers and cards to bring out to the car, while Larissa ate her breakfast, complaining about the food between each bite.

“I could cook something? We have to pass by my place on the way back to Nevermore anyway, I’ll just raid the fridge.”

Larissa snorted. “I’m sure your friends will appreciate that.” 

“They’ll get over it,” you teased with a grin and a shrug. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to carry our stuff to the car.”

You filled your arms with as much as you could carry and brought everything out to your car, piling it in the trunk. It took you a while to navigate the halls of the hospital and when you finally returned to Larissa’s room, she looked frustrated and a bit down, playing with a bobby pin between her fingers, one singular curl pinned up against the back of her head.

“You okay?” you asked, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you approached her bedside.

“It hasn’t taken me this long to do my hair in over 30 years… holding my arms up is too tiring…”

“Can’t you shift?” You feared the answer, figuring if she could, she would - Larissa shook her head sadly.

“Too much effort to maintain.”

“Oh… what if I helped you?”

Larissa seemed a bit surprised at your suggestion, but her frown was quickly replaced with a soft smile and she scooted forward a bit so that you could crawl into her bed behind her and help her with her hair. She would separate her hair into sections and start to roll them up, stopping and letting you finish and pin them in place when her arms started to feel too heavy. After a moment’s rest, she would start on the next section, until each strand of hair was pinned up against her head. It took twice as long as it usually would have, and it looked more than amateurish, but it was better than nothing.

“How does it look from the back?” Larissa asked a little anxiously, and you laughed as you took a photo for her and handed her your phone.

“It could use some work, I’m sorry…”

Larissa chuckled, twisting around to cup your cheek and press her lips to yours. “It could be worse,” she murmured affectionately. 

“You just have to get to your office and then you can take it down again,” you said with a laugh, silently wishing you were better at this kind of thing and vowing to learn for Larissa.

“Thank you…” You could tell by the light in Larissa’s eyes and the blush on her cheeks how much your help meant to her, and you grinned as you pulled her in for a slightly deeper kiss.

Larissa insisted on wearing a bit of makeup, not wanting to be caught in the halls of Nevermore without her signature red lip - you traced her lipstick along her lip, your stomach filling with butterflies at the intimacy of the action. You helped her dress, letting her lean on you and doing up the zip on the back of her dress, then waited patiently for her to sign some paperwork.

After what felt like hours, Larissa was finally discharged and the two of you were in your car, on your way to stop by your apartment. In spite of everything that had happened, you felt a lightness that you hadn’t felt since that night at Nevermore. Larissa was sitting next to you, not in a hospital bed but in your car. Her hair was up and her lips were painted and she wore a dress, not a hospital gown, and she moved her lips to the lyrics of the song playing on the radio, and you seemed to realize all at once that she would be okay. 

~~~

Cass must’ve been waiting for you, because she was at your car window the second you pulled into your usual parking spot in front of your apartment. You rolled down the window and she crossed her arms and rested her forearms on the car, popping her head inside. 

“There’s no way you decided to tell us you were moving out over text?” she exclaimed, but her lips were pulled into a wide grin, making it clear she wasn’t upset. Still, you blushed and glanced at Larissa, who suppressed a smile and looked down at her own lap.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a nervous chuckle, and Cass rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be, it’s not like we didn’t see it coming.”

Now even Larissa’s cheeks were slowly turning pink, and you shooed Cass away so that you could open the door and slip out of the car. Larissa made to open her own door but you insisted she stay in the car - you’d only be a minute anyway, grabbing the most important things - you could always stop by later in the week for more of your belongings.

You made a beeline straight for your room, grabbing the most essential items - some clothes, your laptop, some stuff for uni, your toiletries. With some extra room in your bag, you tossed in a few trinkets, your favorite books, some more art supplies, then stopped by the kitchen to raid the groceries your roommates had no doubt recently bought. 

“You can’t stop by the store on your way through Jericho?” 

Pausing in your rummaging through the fridge, you glanced sheepishly over your shoulder at Robin, who leaned in the doorway with a faint smirk on her face. It was clear your friends were happier to see you back to your old self than they were annoyed at the suddenness of your plans.

“I promise I’ll send you guys money for this week’s groceries?” you tried, and Robin laughed. 

“Yeah, sure.” She paused, the smile slowly slipping off her face. “We’re gonna miss you, ya know?”

And wasn’t that strange to hear. After over two years of living together, it would certainly be weird to no longer call Robin, Cass, and Christin your roommates. You swallowed against the lump that had suddenly appeared in your throat, feeling oddly sentimental amid your excitement to live with Larissa.

“Who knows, I mean I might move back once Larissa’s recovered…” 

Robin laughed, letting out a snort and raising an eyebrow, her usual easy grin lighting up her features. “You really think so?”

“Well…” You could feel your own lips spread into a smile. “No, probably not.”

Pushing herself off the doorframe, Robin crossed the room and pulled you into a brief but tight hug. “Don’t forget about movie night on Sunday. Just because you don’t live here anymore, doesn’t mean you’re getting out of it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” you chuckled, squeezing her tightly.

When you made it back out to your car with all your bags, Cass still had her head poked through the car window and was talking animatedly to Larissa. You shooed your best friend away from the car, then gave her a brief hug, promising to invite her over soon - she waited in the parking lot as you pulled out onto the street, her waving form shrinking in the rearview mirror until you rounded a corner and left her behind.

As you drove down the winding road through the dense forest separating Burlington from Jericho and, beyond that, from Nevermore, it slowly began to sink in that you had Larissa back. Finally, after weeks of anxiety, overthinking, worrying - finally - you were sitting side by side, driving down familiar roads, safe in the knowledge that everything was going to be alright.

“Cassandra was quite shocked that I recovered so quickly,” Larissa mused, her lips quirked into a half-smile as she stole a glance at you. “Actually, how did she put it? ‘I almost didn’t think you’d make it.’”

You cringed at your former roommate’s bluntness. “Ouch… sorry about her, I know she didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“I know… you haven’t told her that I’m a shapeshifter, have you?”

“No.” You shook your head. You expected Larissa to continue speaking, but a silence enveloped the car instead. Glancing over at the shapeshifter, she was looking out the window, appearing deep in thought. “I mean I don’t think she’d mind… I just didn’t think you’d want anyone to know unless you told them,” you added, the silence making you a bit nervous.

“No… you’re right…”

“You know, it’s actually pretty cool, if you think about it,” you started, and Larissa glanced curiously in your direction again. “Being a shapeshifter kind of saved you - I mean how many other people’s organs can just shift to regenerate that quickly? If you weren’t a shapeshifter, we might not be sitting here right now.”

Larissa let out an audible breath through her nose. “I suppose that’s true…” Out of the corner of your eye you could see her turn in her seat, leaning the side of her head against the headrest so that she could face you. The smile on her lips grew a bit. “I suppose being a shapeshifter has its upsides, doesn’t it?”

“I can think of a few more upsides,” you quipped with a smirk, purposely lowering your voice an octave, and turning to look at Larissa just in time to see her cheeks flush a deep, gorgeous pink.

~~~

Arriving at Nevermore, you and Larissa were hounded by students as you tried to carry your belongings to her quarters. Your saving grace ended up being a protective Enid and a reluctant Wednesday, who told off their fellow students and made them give Larissa space - enough for the two of you to reach her office and lock yourselves inside.

“They’d be lost without you here,” you remarked casually as you dragged a duffle bag of your things towards the door to Larissa’s quarters - with your back turned, you missed the way Larissa paused and shifted away a blush, before hurrying after you.

The walk from the car to her quarters was enough to thoroughly exhaust Larissa. Though she was a shapeshifter and was likely to regenerate and recover quicker, she’d still lost a lot of muscle tone in the coma, and so (much to her chagrin) you had her settle on the bed while you hung your clothes up in the closet.

“Hey, Riss? Where can I put this?” you asked as you pulled a handful of paints out of your bag.

Larissa looked around the room - with the hospital stay and the short notice, of course she hadn’t yet been able to consider where you would actually put any of your belongings, and she tilted her head in thought. “There should be some space in the bottom drawer,” she said, pointing to a dresser against the wall. “We can clear up a better space later.”

You crawled over to the dresser from where you were sitting, opening the drawer. It was mostly empty aside from some extra linens, which Larissa instructed you to place in the closet, and a large, heavy photo album. You took hold of the leatherbound album and glanced imploringly at Larissa - she gestured with her hand, inviting you to pick it up. 

Opening the front cover, it dawned on you that this was a family album - right on the front page, there was a black and white photograph of a woman in a hospital bed, holding a newborn baby. “Is this you?”

Larissa smiled. “Yes. Come here.” She patted the space on the bed beside her and you settled next to her with the album open on your lap. Larissa wrapped her arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple, before turning the page to another baby photo - in this one, both mother and father were present, baby wrapped in a quilted blanket and snuggled tight against father’s chest as they stood in the entryway of what appeared to be a large house.

“My parents,” Larissa supplied, though you didn’t need the confirmation - the man was tall, with Larissa’s shoulders, Larissa’s nose; the woman’s light hair and soft features had clearly been passed straight onto her daughter.

You flipped through page after page, photo after photo, of a young Larissa and her family and friends. Larissa at 2 on some rocky beach, in the arms of her grandmother, of whom both she and her mother were the spitting image. Larissa at 5 in a leotard and tights, sitting on the floor of a ballet studio and grinning up at the camera, with one front tooth missing. Larissa at 8 in her Sunday best, standing in front of a church, her father’s hand on her shoulder and her mother standing just off to the side. Larissa at 9 on horseback. Larissa at 11 with her arm around a friend’s shoulder. Larissa at 13 in front of the gates of Nevermore. A few shots of Larissa’s parents, of her grandmother, of an uncle on her father’s side. Of Larissa at Nevermore with other students, or with family on school breaks.

The more photos the two of you flipped through, the more Larissa seemed to lose herself in thought. Finally, her mood unnerved you enough for you to utter a quiet, “we don’t have to do this, you know. If it’s upsetting you.”

Larissa shook her head, a soft smile on her face, though the crease between her brows was deep and pronounced. “I’m alright, darling… I’d just forgotten this was here, that’s all.”

You knew that wasn’t all but, not wanting to pry, you kept your mouth shut. Instead, you leaned your head against Larissa’s shoulder and pushed the photo album off your lap, closing your eyes and letting Larissa process in silence - a silence that stretched so long that her next words startled you.

“I think you’d like my father.”

You raised your head in confusion, remembering what Larissa had told you about her parents. “Would I?”

That comment made Larissa chuckle. “Yes, I think you would. I think he’d like you, too.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“Not in a few years… the last time my parents called, I had a girlfriend over. My mother heard her speak in the background and it caused an argument. My father reached out the next day but I remembered that I’m grown up and don’t have to tolerate that sort of behavior anymore… I changed my phone number that same day.”

Not knowing what to say and knowing you were treading on unknown terrain, you nodded along, watching Larissa’s expression carefully as it shifted between remorse, annoyance, wistfulness, and humor. Larissa carried on after another moment’s silence.

“Maybe it’s time I called him...” The shapeshifter’s expression was resolute, and she shifted her gaze from her lap to your face, a soft smile playing on her lips when she saw your eyes widen at her conclusion. “I think he’d be pleased to know I’ve found you… and it would anger my dear mother greatly.” Larissa’s eyes danced with mirth and it made you smile.

“There’s nothing I love more than pissing off homophobes,” you teased, drawing a laugh from deep within Larissa’s chest and making her pull you even closer to press her lips to your temple.

“That can wait, darling… First, I’d like you all to myself for a few days…”

~~~

As afternoon faded to evening, you moved from the bedroom to the kitchen, enjoying the blissful haze of each other’s presence as you prepared dinner. With the long hospital stay behind you and the heavy conversation about Larissa’s family long forgotten, you laughed and bantered as you had in the weeks prior to the incident - there was no Morticia to bring you down, no Wednesday to distract you, no monster to keep you on your toes, not even roommates to interrupt you. Even work was on hold before Larissa could meet with the school board to discuss her return to work. It was just you and Larissa, in the quarters that you now shared, partaking in the simple, domestic act of cooking together - which meant that you were dutifully watching over the salmon in the pan to make sure it cooked evenly, while Larissa sat at the table with her legs crossed, nursing a glass of red wine and smiling fondly at you.

It reminded you so much of the first time that you cooked for Larissa, just after the Rave’N, when you’d desperately wanted to make up for that disastrous evening. How happy you were back then to simply cook for Larissa - and now, you were getting the chance again.

After dinner, you insisted Larissa join you in the living room to continue the evening listening to music. You lowered the tonearm onto the record, then turned to find Larissa watching you with a faint blush dusting her cheeks. The opening notes to “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole began to play, a song you’d come to associate with your girlfriend. You stepped towards the sofa and stopped in front of Larissa, placing your hands on her shoulders and lowering yourself slowly to straddle her lap. Her hands immediately found your waist, pulling you down and holding you in place, fingers flexing against you, savoring the feeling of holding you.

“Sweet girl,” Larissa cooed with a soft, affectionate smile, running her hands from your hips to the tops of your thighs, then back again, seeming to marvel at being able to feel you beneath her palms again. You closed your eyes, resting your forehead against Larissa’s and humming the melody of the song.

“Darling?” Larissa asked softly, her warm breath tickling your face, and you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, silently urging her to ask whatever she wanted to ask you. “You said something about spending Christmas at the beach?”

You were taken aback by her question, your brow furrowing as you racked your brain to figure out what she was talking about.

“In the hospital,” she clarified quickly, and suddenly you remembered having spoken to her about going away for Christmas while she was in the coma. You smiled, pleased that she had heard and remembered that, and nodded. “Is that something you were serious about?”

Your smile widened. “Yeah, dead serious.”

“Well, perhaps we should look into flights then…” A smirk was slowly creeping onto Larissa’s face, and her hands slid from your waist to the swell of your ass, tugging you just an inch closer so that your front was completely flush with hers. You felt your grin would split your face in two and you eagerly bobbed your head ‘yes’.

The prospect of spending the holidays with Larissa seemed almost too good to be true. Just over a week ago, you weren’t entirely sure she’d make it to Christmas at all, and now you were sitting on her lap, with her warm body fitted snugly against your own, making plans for the future. Happiness bloomed within you and you cupped Larissa’s cheeks, your eyes dancing between her own. Your lips mouthed the lyrics of the song playing, and her own lips curled into the most adoring of smiles in response.

That's why darling, it's incredible That someone so unforgettable Thinks that I am unforgettable too

x

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[ashwhowrites]

Man I always have the best ideas for your requests and then the moment I see they’re open it’s like no thoughts only smooth brain.

Can I request where reader is friends with both Eddie and Steve, they become a little trio. Reader is attracted to both of them but keeps it secret because she doesn’t want to mess up the dynamic, doesn’t know how she’d pick when she loves them both. Eddie and Steve both really like her but their situation is complicated. They’ve been secretly together for a little bit but both agree they want reader. It’s just how do you spring that on someone and if they refuse not make everything weird? (Plus, people are really judgmental about same sex dating and alternative dating etc.) They both actively flirt with her, treat her right, they think they’ll actually reveal if she confesses to liking one of them. They all go out together as they normally do but there is a lot more teasing flirting from both boys to her. She says goodbye to them at the end of the night but is so keyed up from the flirting and what not she has to have an answer. She is intent on telling them that she likes them both and doesn’t know what to do. Except She catches them messing around? (Cause obviously they liked the flirting a lot too.) She’s super embarrassed and lowkey a little sad that they kept the relationship from her and that if they’re together they won’t want to be with her. But then Eddie and Steve confess and happy fluffy sexy ending.

Thank youuuuuu I love you mwah

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

⚠️little bit of smut

Flirting game

Y/N dreamed about the day she'd fall in love ever since she was young, how her heart would race from eye contact and plan a future by their side. She didn't expect how hard it would be to be in love with two different people.

Y/N, Steve, and Eddie had been close friends and didn't spend much time apart. It was easy for them to get along, and they barely had boundaries. Everything in their life was shared and secrets didn't exist. Well, that was a small lie.

Y/N was head over heels for Steve. She felt it was obvious since she could never keep her cool around him. She craved to run her hands through his hair, feeling how soft and silky it was. His sweet compliments paired with his smile made her stomach do flips. He was softer than Eddie, offering a comforting shoulder. He listened to all her feelings and made her feel accepted.

To make it more complicated, she was in love with Eddie too. His long hair and boyish charm never failed to make her heart race. His dirty jokes warmed her cheeks. His rough exterior always had her attention and she wanted his attention on her.

She felt tugged between the two. Steve pulled one arm and Eddie pulled the other, and she wasn't sure who she wanted to win. Her plan was to suffer in silence until one of them made a move, but one night got too hard to walk away from.

~

"Steve this place is amazing," Y/N said in awe as she walked around Steve's newly owned apartment. Eddie nodded as he sipped on his can of beer, walking behind her.

Steve smiled as he handed her a glass of wine. "Thank you, there's one place I want you to see." Y/N was intrigued, blushing to herself when Steve ran his fingers down her arm and moved to hold her hand. Eddie smirked as he stood behind, sharing a look with Steve.

Y/N let Steve lead her blindly, enjoying the feeling of his hand in hers. Steve walked her down the hall and stopped, a smirk on his face as he opened the door.

She looked in the room, expecting something exciting but all she saw was a bed and boxes. "What is it?" she asked, not understanding what he wanted to show her.

"It's my bedroom," Steve said, his hand still in hers. She looked at him confused, and then she felt Eddie's body pressed against her back. She held her breath as he moved his nose against her neck, her eyes locked on Steve.

"You know what happens in a bedroom right, baby girl?" Eddie whispered into her ear. She tried to cover the fact that her insides were burning as she stood between them. Steve moved closer until his body crashed against hers.

"Don't look so scared, love," Steve chuckled, pushing up her head as he placed a finger under her chin, "The bedroom is for sleeping." Eddie and Steve moved away at the same time, allowing air to move through her lungs. Their touch was gone and she felt cold air wash over her. She stood in shock and confusion as the boys walked down the hall. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what happened.

"Coming?" Eddie asked from down the hall. She turned around and nodded, quickly walking towards him.

They worked on putting away boxes for the next few hours. Steve's apartment slowly came together as more drinks were shared. Building up an appetite, Steve ordered pizzas declaring they'd take a break for food.

"Since I have no table, the floor it is!" Steve said cheerfully as he sat on the ground. Y/N held her third glass of wine as she took the spot across from him, and then Eddie joined after. Steve and Eddie's knees touched and Eddie's knee touched hers, all connected in a way.

They talked among themselves as they ate. Y/N listened closely as Steve talked, watching his lips form the words. She was so zoned in on him that she didn't realize she dripped sauce down her chin, but Eddie noticed.

When Steve finished his sentence, Eddie reached over gaining her attention when he swiped his thumb over her chin. She jolted in surprise, her eyes on Eddie as he cleaned up the sauce. She was stunned by the small intimate touch, staring in awe when Eddie slipped his sauced thumb into his mouth. He soaked in her stare, giving her a wink. She quickly looked away, gulping down the rest of her wine.

Eddie excused himself to the bathroom and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief. With her body warm and brain in overdrive, she stood up to grab water from the kitchen.

Steve followed, walking quietly enough that she didn't know he was there. She opened the fridge and let the cold plastic soak into her skin. She took a few sips as she calmed herself down. She turned around and her back was pressed against the fridge. Steve looked down at her with a smile, loving the way her breathing picked up.

"Are you feeling okay? You look a bit warm," Steve said reaching his hand out and pressing it against her forehead.

"Um, yeah. I think I need some rest, though," she said, needing a break from the way these boys were throwing her around. Steve clicked his tongue, and his hand moved down to her neck. She held her breath as he leaned in, his face inches from hers. She couldn't help but look down at his lips, wanting to lean in. Steve's lips formed into a smirk, and he backed away, his touch no longer lingering on her skin.

"Do you need a ride?"

"No!" Y/N knew she wasn't going to survive a car ride with him. "I can drive."

She grabbed her keys and practically ran to the door, saying goodbye to Eddie as he approached.

"She's leaving?" Eddie asked, watching as the door closed.

"Yep. But I think our plan is working," Steve smiled walking over to Eddie.

"Then why won't she just admit something?" Eddie groaned. It's been months of the cat-and-mouse game, and he wanted it to end.

Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie's slim waist, bringing the boy against his chest. "She will, I know she will." Eddie rolled his eyes as he lost patience.

"In the meantime, we can enjoy what the little show does to us," Steve flirted, placing a hand on Eddie's chest. Eddie smirked as Steve's hand slid down his body, landing on the button of his jeans.

"Yeah? Turns you on working her up like that?" Eddie teased. Steve unbuttoned his jeans, sliding his hand inside. Eddie shivered as Steve teased him over his boxers, the touch setting him on fire.

Steve pressed his lips against Eddie's, moving his hand inside Eddie's boxers to wrap around his cock. Eddie moaned into his mouth, diving his hands into Steve's hair. Eddie slid his tongue into Steve's mouth, their tongues massaging against each other. Steve moved his hand up and down on Eddie's cock, twisting near his tip forcing his pre cum to drip out. Steve smeared the pre cum along Eddie's length, using it to help jerk him off.

~

Y/N was halfway home when she turned around. The heat between her legs reminded her how badly she wanted them. Even though she was scared as hell to tell them the truth, she made her way back to Steve's.

Her head was all over the place and she had no idea what she would say but kept moving forward. She dug out the spare key Steve gave her and let herself in. The house seemed empty but she knew they were there somewhere.

She walked down the hall towards the bedroom, freezing when she heard the sound of moans. She gulped as she went to step back, not wanting to intrude on Steve's private time. But a part of her wanted to see, she wanted to see Steve moaning out curious of what was making him feel so good. She stepped forward, peeking her head in the open doorframe.

Eddie and Steve were naked and tangled in Steve's sheets. Their naked chests pressed against each other as Steve pushed himself in and out of Eddie. Their moans meet each other in the air between them. Y/N stood in shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She never thought anything was going on between them, hell she didn't even know they were gay. She felt hurt that they kept this from her and that her feelings didn't matter anymore.

She turned to sneak out but her step caused a loud creek to echo throughout the hallway. The boys froze and looked towards the door, catching Y/N's stunned expression. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Then she booked it, running down the hall. Steve and Eddie called out to her, quickly scrambling out of bed and throwing on their underwear as they ran after her.

By the time they reached her, she was staring at the door, trying to decide whether she wanted to leave.

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let myself in," she apologized. She turned around and took them in. Their sex hair, Eddie's marked chest, and Steve's bruised lips.

"It's okay," Steve coughed, "can we talk about what you saw?"

Y/N nodded and hugged herself. "Are you guys...together?"

"Yeah, for almost four months now," Eddie answered.

"Four months?" She screeched, she dropped her arms in shock. "Why didn't you guys tell me? Did you think I wouldn't accept you?" She accused.

"NO!" Steve rushed, "It's just we are so used to hiding so we hide from everyone."

"So was all the flirting to throw me off? Make sure I believe you're straight? Because that's fucking shitty! You played with my feelings!" Y/N cried, getting so frustrated that tears began to fly down her cheeks.

"No, baby. It is nothing like that," Eddie said softly. He slowly walked up to her, and she allowed him to touch her arm. "We weren't playing with your feelings or using you. We meant the flirting, we were hoping if we made advances towards you that you would tell us how you felt about us."

"How I feel about yo-ouu...b-both?" she stuttered. Did they already know? She looked between the two with fear in her eyes.

"We are both interested in you. We both have strong feelings for you." Steve confessed. Y/N was stunned by their confession. All the time she hoped they'd look her way, and they truly were.

"What do you feel about us?" Eddie asked, leaning closer to the shaky girl. He smiled as he cupped her cheek, landing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Just tell us," he whispered, his lips leading down to her neck.

She gasped in pleasure, and her eyes met Steve over Eddie's shoulder. Eddie continued to kiss her neck as Steve stared into her eyes.

"I want to be with both of you," she moaned out, Eddie's teeth sinking into her neck. Steve smiled at the confession and walked towards them. He walked around her, his naked chest to her back as he pressed his lips to the open side of her neck.

Y/N shivered as both of their lips pressed against her skin, her eyes closing as their hands began to work up and down her body.

"Let us show you how much we want you," Eddie whispered.

"Please," she moaned.

"Our pleasure, baby girl," Steve whispered against her skin.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[laswells-ashtray]

(You don't have to answer instantly, don't burn yourself out)

MacMillan and MacTavish having a very Scottish bonding moment that confused the ever loving daylights out of poor Nik/everyone

(I apologize for the potential spam lol)

I'm so sorry but I'm blind as shit even with my glasses on because they're two years old and I need new ones so I have to ask. What is your pfp because I cannot for the life of me figure it out but it's funky and I love it.

Anyway, *cracks knuckles* you're about to watch me tear into different parts of Scotland with no context other than I'm Scottish and allowed to

"Now, lad. Wit bit of Scotland are ye fae exactly?"

John instantly knows that letting MacMillan and Soap drink together is a dangerous choice because the two get on like a house on fire but that's not what worries John. What worries John is this. The Scotland talk because he'd sat through more than enough rants from Mac back in the day about the best parts of Scotland and [in Mac's own words] the "shite" parts.

"Glasgow, sir. Pollockshaw, if ye ken it?" There's a brief moment of silence between the Englishmen at the table and Nik as they await the older Scot's reaction. Is that a good place? Fuck if John knows.

"Aye, aye. I get ye, I'm Stewarton myself." Mac looks amused, as does Soap. That has to be a good sign, surely.

"Oh, you're a hard man then. Dinnae tell me you went tae school there anaw?" It takes one glance around the table to know that he isn't the only one needing a written translation. Simon is mouthing half of the words that Soap says under his breath to try and follow along with him, Kyle looks positively befuddled and Nik looks two seconds away from seeing if he can lift both arms properly.

"Aye, fuckin' shitehole and I wis quick tae get my arse oot of that fuckin' school. Could've been worse, I could've been fae Cumnock. Or ye could've been fae Maryhill."

"My da's side is fae Maryhill."

Oh fuck. John doesn't try to hide his wince. Leave it up to Mac to commit some cardinal sin when discussing Scotland.

"Even he'd agree with ye, it's a soulless vacuum of dugshite, empty needles and misery."

Nevermind then?! John is confused, deeply confused. Why the hatred for Maryhill? And better question, where the fuck is Maryhill?

Mac and Soap share a laugh between themselves that only furthers the confusion between the non-Scots of the table.

"Better than Govan." They both crack up at that, loud laughter waving over the table. Is it possible for someone to laugh Scottish because both of them seem to be doing so.

Kyle nudges him with a light elbow to the ribs, cheeky bugger.

"You catch what any of that meant?"

"Not a fucking word, sergeant. Not a fucking word."

Eventually, they leave the two men to chatter between themselves. None of them have the ears nor dictionary to translate whatever the fuck those two are spitting at each other. That is until John hears a question that has him demanding silence from his end of the table.

Leave it to Mac to ask the dreaded question of the night.

"So, son. Ye a Rangers boy or a Celtic boy?"

Even Simon and Kyle look over with wary expressions, Nik might not understand the significance of such a thing but the lads do. Mac asks with such a casual demeanour, you'd almost think it was a friendly query. It is not.

"Rangers, sir."

"Smart choice, son."

A shared sentiment passes through them all.

Thank fuck.

[ts-janus-rp-blog]

"You think that Virgil will listen? I'm not sure that he'll listen if you ask for it... But we can try... It's better than nothing!" Janus squeaked out, then he helped wash Roman down. But once Roman started scrubbing Janus down, he was able to see the dull big bruises along Janus small body. It was so hidden thanks to Janus thick fur, but when that fur is moved away...those bruises are easy to see... To think he was still fighting even though he had all these bruises on his body...

"That...was it?" Remus just stared at Patton in shock and confusion. "I never thought people would buy hybrids and not use them for sex? Like... Why buy a hybrid if you're not gonna fuck them? I don't understand it. You have a perfectly fine pussy, I'm sure, so why not use it to your advantage!" Remus shook his head, but he leaned over the middle console to get to Patton. "Well... If that's the case... You want me to be your first, pussycat?"

Patton knocked desperately at the strangers door, praying someone, anyone was home. His heart beat as fast and loud as the rain thundering against the sidewalk. He was sure he was being followed, they were going to catch him. They were going to drag him back. He wasn't sure if whoever lived here might be worse, but he was willing to risk it at this point. Anything to escape.

{@moralpuppylover2}

Janus didn't know who would be at the door. It was late, but his master won't surely be home at this time. He normally doesn't get home until the sun starts to come up.

So, as the dog hybrid walked up to the door and opened it, he wondered who it could be. And if he should open it at all... Who knows, he may get in trouble with his master for opening the door. But, his curiosity was getting the better of him-

He stopped when he saw the soaking wet cat standing at the doorway. He could tell that this cat needed help almost immediately. Well, if his poor state of clothes were anything to go by. His eyes flickered up and down the sidewalk before he grabbed pattons arm and pulled him inside.

"are you alright?" Janus nervously asked as he grabbed a towel from the mud room. "Well, that's a stupid question, of course you're not alright! Are you...running away from your owners?" As Janus walked, the collar around his neck would jingle loudly. And even though it was cold outside and even in the house, he only had a pair of boxers on. Because of that, Patton would be able to see the numerous large scars that covered his body...and the countless amounts of fresh bruises.

@moralpuppylover2