#feel free to spin it more platonically!

[pandorascripts]

Family Reunion

Uhm... hi... guys!!! Yes, I did go MIA for like a whole year, but I got better at writing and my gay ass got extreme motivation from Agatha and Rio soooo I'm here!!! Not sure if this is permanent, but I really wanted to write Agatha as a mother. Feel free to send in requests (platonic or romantic, either works), who knows if I'll get around to them, but they might motivate me!

Summary: Rio and Agatha begin to heal, too absorbed in familiarity to remember just how bad they were for one another. The Road decides to leap out of Rio's control, thrusting their young daughter away from the underworld and back into their lives.

summary shortened: you're pretty much Nick, except the road decides to throw you back onto the mortal plane for an unknown reason. warnings: some grief, mainly fluff, big smooch scene that we deserved, and me using my Spanish-II class for nefarious acts online (making rio and reader speak Spanish). relationships: Agario/plantonic!reader

all spelling errors are mine, and I apologize, but I'm too excited about writing again to care <3. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha listens as the other coven members cheerily laugh about past experiences -- each letting the burning weight of the trials slip off their shoulders for a moment. The past centuries of her life have been held as a solo journey for Agatha, coven-less, loveless, family-less, and yet, analyzing the people around her, she can't help but wonder if that had been the wrong choice. How is it that these "failed" witches can form a coven far more accepting than the last one she was in? Agatha's not sure, but that spark of humanity she swore died when her coven betrayed her is fighting against the brutal self-taught lessons of apathy. She finds herself drawn into the conversation with a question directed at her. Far too surprised that she's been included, Agatha doesn't clock who it came from at all. Her weight shifts on the log beneath her, fingers anxiously spinning the flower Rio's been harboring since she darkened the road with her soul. Agatha risks a glance at her, then turns back to the coven. Her elbow buzzes with a reminder of a rather bland battle, the hard knitting tool piercing her skin replaying in her mind again. Rio seemingly knows where she's going with this when Agatha hikes up her shirt, lifting her elbow with a small smile.

"You ever heard of the Daughters of Liberty?" her hoarse voice rings out, a faintly muffled chuckle coming from the woman on her right. Agatha smiles at her for the first time in years.

The group enthusiastically shakes their heads, all curious about where Agatha is directing her story. Well aware, Agatha knows she needs to seemingly open up to these women and keep her animosity for them. Letting them in on her past isn't going to do that, so with a snap of her hand the shirt is back down to her wrist, cocky eyes darting around the circle. "Exactly."

Despite how chilling this should be, the group just smiles and laughs at Agatha's story. Agatha won't look into it because that off-putting "joke" just got her respect points with the coven she may or may not choose to betray. That's a win in her mind that is immediately taken away when her old counterpart speaks up.

"I have a scar."

Her tone is a little dry, her face so blank as usual. Naturally, the coven is a little uneasy at Rio's presence, all still deciding if she's trustworthy or not.

Agatha's jaw is sharply outlined as she glares. With a hard breath her nostrils are inflamed, knowing Rio's antics far too familiarly. "No, you don't."

Rio sends her a glare, as if to tell her to shut up. "Yes, I do."

Agatha knows she cannot interrupt again, the coven would be far too suspicious of just how well they know one another. Who Agatha falls in love with is her business -- her weakness is her business. With a taste of defeat that's absolutely disgusting, Agatha lets Rio speak.

"A long time ago, I loved somebody," she starts softly, if not a little too apathetic for a claim like that. The coven is immediately a little interested -- most thinking that Rio is quite the psychopath. Agatha knows they're wrong.

"I had to do something I didn't want to do, and it hurt them," with these words spilt out, Rio gets a little angry at the next part of her speech. Agatha knows what this is going to, her eyes shooting away to look at the stars instead of the stars in Rio's eyes. "But it was my job."

Agatha glares down at her purple pants, the fire a couple feet ahead casting them brighter than their original color. The avoidance is choking her out, but even when Rio speaks again, Agatha is too pained to look.

"She is my scar."

Rio looks over and up at Agatha, not caring that the coven has certainly understood the depth of the relationship between them. For a moment, weakness allows Agatha to breathe in deep, her head softly turning to glance at Rio. The moment the exchange is made, Agatha's body heating up with utter embarrassment, her head snaps. The crack of her knees is deafening, fingers flexing as she tries to loosen the hold on this flower. This damn flower -- why is it still in her hands? Agatha feels grossed out by the question, but more so by her internal response. Rio's face is still burned into her head, the parted lips, eyes open and unafraid of being known by the coven. Rio's look of pure, unaltered love that Agatha swore never truly existed between them.

"Well, I'm gonna take a walk," she snaps out, sending what's supposed to be a condescending smile to the group. Everyone sees through it, more so when Rio sighs annoyedly and rushes after.

Rio would be lying if she said she wasn't slightly pissed, the only thing easing that being the sway of Agatha's hips as she practically darts away from Rio's penetrating gaze. Her eyes remain narrow, watching Agatha fifteen feet up with no objective other than having her back again. Death is lonely, figuratively and literally. She's not found one person who's soul can ease her lack of besides Agatha. Years have blurred together, broken cries of rejection chipping away at the humanity Rio used to harbor, and everything over the millennia she's existed for has undeniably forced her to adept into stone cold apathy. Agatha healed that. During their fleeting time together, Death felt things other than her frozen over hell, she felt desired, understood, she felt human and she understood why humans hate dying so much. Agatha made Death feel like living. So yes, even after this time apart, she's angry that the one soul she refused to take could end up leaving her.

Agatha stops a couple feet ahead now, Rio's gaze running over her body to fully cement the fact that they're back together now, even if not emotionally. Testing waters which have laid still for so long, Rio's chipped nails faintly feel the back of Agatha's spine. When her fingers make contact again, she remembers every night they rested there too -- during walks along the Norwegian beaches despite how freezing it was, fooling around when Agatha was first dabbling in black magic, to nights when Agatha was falling asleep holding their kid and Rio asking hesitantly to take her instead. It's so much, Rio notes, and she understands that it must be for Agatha too because a sound so hauntingly familiar falls from her aching lips -- a moan rippling those waters untouched for years.

Silence is only exchanged after that, Agatha turning around to relent into Rio's care. Seeing her divine face this close again after so many years of punishment, is like allowing a sinner a breath of heaven for Agatha. Her nails rake along Rio's soft face as she soaks in this moment. Her bones are aching to crawl back into the grave she spent so long being comforted in, they're pleading Agatha to just allow them this reprieve, and so she grants it. Rio knows what's coming, her hands clinging onto Agatha as her face dives into her neck. Both their noses dip into the skin, smelling each other, holding each other, for the first time in years. That comforting smell of flowers, dewy earth, and the beguiling scent of death fills Agatha's nose, tears slipping down her face with familiarity.

Rio feels Agatha's hands gripping her head, her own chest stuttering as she struggles with the fleeting emotions entwined with humanity. It's so overwhelming and it's been so long since she's felt it again. Desperate to capture it, Rio grips Agatha's back, nails digging into her shirt as she feels her soul back where it belongs. Still, silence. There's nothing they need to say to her that isn't being felt -- love, security, a hint of forgiveness that Rio hopes won't be nipped in the bud.

Agatha pulls back, Rio tilting her head to analyze her features. When looking isn't enough, they both hold one another's faces, thumbs memorizing the skin along their paths. Rio can feel her eyelids droop, soulless brown eyes moving to the pair of lips in front of her. Agatha's filled with the same desire, darting forward before she can properly judge what's happening, nose bumping against Rio's. The latter pulls away, a soft hum leaving her lips.

"Agatha..."

There's a subtle nod from the addressed, eyes moving off from her mouth to Rio's eyes. It's there Agatha finds that she wasn't stopped out of hesitance or unwillingness, so she leans in again. Rio lets her, invites her when she tilts too.

Agatha hasn't felt a kiss like Rio's kisses in centuries. The moment she feels it again, she lets out a sweet moan. Rio notes how different it is from the ones she usually pulls out -- whether from pain or pleasure. Agatha's was slow and sweet, as if she had been longing for this all her life. It's comforting and full of love. Rio wants more -- she needs to know that this isn't one sided -- that Agatha has started to forgive her for a pain they share. Her hands move to support Agatha's jaw, pulling her into her furthermore as if she wants to swallow her with a kiss. Agatha's giving everything back, lips in tandem with Rio's as they refuse to part for anything.

They're like that for far too long, only stopping when Agatha rests her forehead against Rio's, trying to stifle her panting. Their eyes remain shut, soaking in the physical feel of being loved again.

"I can't -- I can't accept what happened, but -- but I want you to know, I know it hurt you too," Agatha softly speaks, the vulnerability something she rarely shows. It's been years and years of animosity because of their shared grief.

Rio's completely silent, her eyes opening to see the tears slipping down Agatha's cheeks. It takes her a moment of confusion before she realizes that she's crying too -- something that hasn't happened since she held that lifeless body in her heavy arms, crying as she pretended to be tucking her in her crib like she had so many times over the years. Rio's choked up as well, nodding her head as she desperately moves Agatha's hair behind her ears, needing to busy her hands with something.

"I --" Rio can't get anything out. Her thoughts are wilder than a tornado, each one fleeting and escaping her brain before they can be shoved out her mouth. For someone so witty, she can't speak. Rio nods again, lips pressed thin as she leans back in to feel Agatha's lips. There's no denial from Agatha, just like how there never was any all those centuries ago.

The next couple of minutes are spent exchanging sweet kisses, lips slowly and barely moving away just to reconnect seconds later. Rio's hand slips under Agatha's shirt, feeling the taut fabric against her hands when she pulls it out from the waistband of her purple pants. Malleable flesh against her fingertips makes Rio moan against Agatha, a small smirk on her lips when another moan follows -- but not from her. Rio's nails rake along Agatha's stomach, enjoying the feeling after being denied it for so long.

Lost in familiarity, they don't notice the tree cracking behind them -- not until it drops a couple feet out, a hoarse shriek coming from Agatha. Rio's back is turned to her now, hand on her waist as she keeps Agatha close. There's something under the rubble, her eyes thinning down as she glares at the rustling wood. Eventually, Rio steps away from Agatha and kicks over the wood, an unconscious face all too known in front of her. With a hard smack, Rio's knees are digging into the floor, hands grabbing out the sweet face she swore she wouldn't see ever again.

Agatha's stood behind, eyes slightly wide and confused before a soft, "hija" is echoed out in the cold air. Haunted, Agatha stumbles forward to drop down next to Rio, hands moving out to grab at your face. The moment she thinks she can, her hands shoot back and away, knees popping when she abruptly stands. In a hard panic and a heavy breath, her face is whipping around and looking around the road.

"Is this some sick trial?" she screeches out, her lungs aching as she sobs to whoever is controlling this.

Rio's still sitting, cradling your body as her hands touch your hair. The road bends to Rio's will -- after all, Rio only designed the road to bring her more souls -- but this isn't her. This is something else, something far more evil that's infiltrated her dimension. Rio doesn't understand how this is happening, who's behind it, or what the consequences are going to be, but she needs to just soak in this moment.

Rio hasn't seen your chest move in hundreds of years.

Shaky fingers press along your chest, feeling it rise against her hold, then fall, and repeat.

"Agatha," she calls out, turning her head to look at the panicked woman in front of her.

Bewildered and terrified, Agatha meets your sleeping face and freezes. There's a sick part of Agatha that reminds her she had forgotten certain aspects of your face, the guilt eating at her and choking her out. With a shake of her head, Agatha trips over herself as she tries to get away. The sobs are muffled by her vibrating hand, vision blinded by overwhelmed tears. There's too much happening for Agatha to even try regulating herself, so caught up in the face that has haunted her for centuries being thrusted against her in such a short time.

Rio gently picks up your body, head slack against her hard shoulder. The last time you were like this Rio was tightly holding you away from the Ferryman. Her hands rub your back, shifting to make adjustments for you. Centuries ago when you died, you were no more than six, now it seems as if something changed that -- you look like you're ten now. Rio doesn't understand how you managed to "age" if you hadn't had a beating heart in a long time, but she doesn't care.

"Agatha," she tries again, wanting her to see her daughter even if you'll get tugged back onto that old boat soon.

Whipping around, her hands still pressed against her mouth, she gently meets Rio half way. The tears won't stop, shock and disbelief on her aged face. "Oh God," she mumbles, hand slipping over to brush some brown hair away from your face.

You're still you, if not a little pale and older now, but Agatha can't register that. Her baby is back, in some sick way, her baby is back. Rio holds you tightly, feeling so confused as your body is warm against hers.

"What is this?" Agatha hoarsely questions, eyes darting away from yours to Rio's face.

"I don't know -- I didn't do it -- I swear," she sputters out, stopping only when Agatha presses her tear-soaked lips against Rio's own again.

"I know, I know."

Rio calms down at the belief, her arms heavy as Agatha starts to lift you into her own arms. There's a shift from you, Agatha's eyebrows pressing deeply together as she almost glares at you. Still convinced this isn't real, she's as stiff as a board against you. Up until you press into her shoulder, rubbing your nose twice before halting, Agatha doesn't believe it. That single act performed crushes her reluctance, heart stopping at feeling something you used to do all the time against her.

"Oh, baby," she cries out, nose pressed into the side of your hair as you stir. Rio watches with wide eyes, lips parted as she watches how easily Agatha slips back into her motherly tendencies.

Agatha cries until she can't anymore, eventually finding herself sitting down and just holding you against her. Of course, she doesn't want to wake you up but she also can't stop touching you. Desperately aching for the constant reminder that you're tangible -- that you're here -- Agatha's hands constantly touch your face, your waist, your hips -- gently running over your body as she shakes.

Rio sits down in front, hand resting just under your lower thigh, thumb rubbing against the side of your knee. With all this touch, you wake up slightly annoyed, pushing yourself farther into Agatha. Her tears only increase tenfold, fleeting attempts to stop it doing nothing.

"Momma, stop," you quietly whine as she plays with your messy hair, your nose crinkled up just like hers does. The similar aspect makes Agatha tear up, head nodding as she stills her hand on your waist.

"Sorry, baby."

Rio notes Agatha's cracking voice, and so do you. Tiredly, you look up at them both, confused as to why your parents had been crying.

"Why you guys crying?"

"Just really happy, honey," Agatha sniffles out, rubbing your face again. You don't fight against it, eyes darting down to look at Rio.

"Okay." Your soft tone makes Rio's lip tremble, her hand coming out to move some of your curly hair -- so alike to Agatha's -- out of your face. There's a small shake of your head as you adjust your big glasses -- the ones Rio always adored.

"I don't want you to cry, it makes me sad too," you softly admit, moving your face to rest alongside Agatha's sternum. Habits don't die, as proven when Agatha already moves to take off your glasses for you so they don't get bent by how you're laying. Rio acts on impulse too, taking the glasses from Agatha's hands and setting them on her shirt.

"Nosotras sabemos, hija," Rio speaks out, her eyes trained on your face. For a fleeting moment, Rio wonders if you've forgotten the language she taught you, her heart breaking in her chest before you respond with a nod. Agatha's a little behind before understanding what Rio means.

"We know," Agatha reiterates, letting you know that she understood the conversation and agrees.

"Where are we?" you ask, finally looking around to notice what's happening.

Rio can't think of anything to say, not until Agatha comes up with something. "Road trip, dear."

Trusting your mom, you just confusedly nod your head.

"¿Cuándo planeamos el viaje?" you ask out.

Agatha can't respond right away, but Rio does. "You were sleeping, Mama and I wanted to surprise you."

Turning her head to face the speaker, Agatha is a little confused at the question but goes with it. The answer isn't upsetting you, if not just making you a little confused, so she doesn't really care to figure out what was spoken.

"Can I sleep now?" you ask, yawning just after.

"Yeah, baby, of course."

Rio turns to look at Agatha's expression, her heart lurching at just how well motherhood suits her. Brown eyes watch Agatha's gentle hands -- hands that have slaughtered thousands -- sweetly caress your kind face. With a hum, you lean into your mama's hands, eyes shut as you try to sleep again. Agatha is completely lost in having you back, soothingly tracing along your face and down the slope of your nose, touching something she never thought she would again. Rio is too nervous to touch you again, the last time far too devastating for her liking.

As if a mind reader, Agatha brings up Rio's hand to your stomach, setting it there before looking back down at you.

Complete silence falls over you all, Rio's hand stiff before she hesitantly brings it to flatten against your stomach. Apathy is long gone from her usually conniving features, everything overtaken with terrified love. After a minute or two, Rio manages to calm down her anxiety and let her knuckles run against your shirt, remembering the nights when you'd both be sent into fits of giggles when she'd blow raspberries against your stomach. Much to Agatha's dismay, only because it'd rile you up before bedtime. Truth be told, Agatha let it happen a couple times, observing contently from the bedroom door before she'd break it up so you could sleep.  

You're knocked out again minutes later, a soft chuckle coming from Rio's lips. "God, she always was a hard sleeper."

Agatha silently nods, tears slipping down her face again. Rio brushes them away with her free hand, letting her knuckles trace against Agatha too.

"You know we don't have her back for long, right?" Rio asks quietly. In a hard, choked out response, Agatha nods her head. "I know, I know. I just need her for a bit longer."

Rio's lips are tugged taut before leaning into a frown, her forehead against Agatha's as they sit in silence together.

[misserabella]

puppy love

dad’s bf shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

pt2

synopsis: you’ve liked your dad’s best friend for a very long time. the time has come when you can finally have her.

cw;; +18 content! minors dni!! (i’ll hunt you down), shane is 34, reader is 18 in the first part of the fic, alcohol and drug consumption (coke and weed) (don’t do this guys!!!!), fighting, reader being mean, TENSIONNNN, puking, kissing, tattoos, piercings, teasing, praising, degradation, voyeurism (kinda), oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), cum eating, hair pulling…

you’ve had this silly little crush on your dad’s best friend since you were a teenager.

how could you not? she was beautiful, and successful and so fucking hot… she was unique. you’ve never met anyone quite like shane mccutcheon. so free.

it was innocent at first. you’d always want to spend time with her. she was the person you looked up to after all. she taught you how to skate from a a very early age. she always cut your hair when you’d need a fresh cut, and dyed it even though when she knew your dad would give her hell for it just because you wanted to (she would say sorry, but she wasn’t). she gave you your first tattoo when you turned 16 in a place where your father wouldn’t see. a hummingbird, just like hers. “my birthday present for you, kid” she had said. you could still remember the feeling of her fingertips on your thighs and waist as she tattooed your hipbone. you had tried so hard to not blush and squirm, her touch electrifying.

you could feel butterflies every time your friends would ask you about her in recess, well-known looks being shared when you’d blush. and your knees would go weak when you’d see her at the entrance of your high-school after class, waiting for you leaning against her car with her charming smile. “hey kid.” she’d mess up your hair with one of her ringed hands, hugging you close to her chest. you’d push her away, acting pissed off, when in reality all you wanted was to hug her closer and bury your face in the crook of her neck. she always smelled so nice…

but you couldn’t keep her too close ‘cause then you’d notice the hickeys on her neck, and all those butterflies would die.

your father had you at a very early age, having to raise you all by himself since your mother decided to run away and leave you. and shane had been there since the first second that she had met your father, along with the whole group, helping him push through.

so when you realized that what you felt for her was more than something platonic… your whole world came crashing down on your shoulders.

eighteen and in love with a woman twice your age… so you slowly started to drift away. you’d act busy. you’d started going out frequently, doing drugs, drinking alcohol… getting wasted and sleeping with a bunch of girls to try and forget her.

of course, she’d always find you.

“oh my god…” you groaned, turning around to face your friend with wobbly legs and your heart on your throat. “shane’s here.” you had just left the club, completely drunk out of your mind and with hickeys all over your chest and neck. you couldn’t let her see you like this. you didn’t want to see her.

“what? where?” your friend inquired and you pointed with your eyes to the side and to your back. “fuck. what do we do?”

“don’t let her see me. please, lucile.”

“okay, let’s…” but then she ducked her head, eyes shot open. “oh shit. shit. shit. she saw me.”

“fuck!” you whispered, and at the same time you heard shane’s voice coming from behind you, calling out for you. you tried to ignore her, tried to act as if she wasn’t you who she was looking for, but she wouldn’t give up.

“hey! i’m talking to you!” your whole world started spinning when you felt her hand on your shoulder, turning you around so you could face her. “do you have any idea how worried your dad is? we’ve been looking like crazy for you.” her voice sounded harsh, and she looked pissed. it was when she noticed that you weren’t looking at her, but instead hiding your eyes that she took your face with her free hand, making you face her. “fuck… you’re high?” your eyes were reddish and half lided, pupils dilated. your makeup ruined, gloss smushed. she looked at your clothes, completely out of place, bruises on your skin. “let’s go.” she grabbed onto your wrist to pull you along, but you fought her. she growled your name, slowly.

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m having fun.” you slurred, taking a swing of the bottle of alcohol on your hand. your vision was blurry, and your heart was beating too loud. “hey!” you whined when she took it from you and threw it aside, making the glass break. you whistled at her pissed off look. “somebody needs to have a little bit of fun…” you muttered.

“you’ve had enough, i’m taking you home.” her voice was stern, green eyes angry.

“you’re not my dad.” you said, and she smirked.

“yeah. thank god i’m not, ‘cause if he saw you like this, he’d kill you. move.” you rolled your eyes. “don’t be a brat with me. i’m not putting up with that shit. car, now.” she ordered, and you finally moved, walking towards her car.

you hadn’t shared a word on the whole way and you frowned when she kept going straight instead of taking a turn when the street of your neighborhood came to your view. she noticed. “i’m taking you to my house. can’t let your father see you like this.” your stomach jumped at the thought of being alone with her on her beautiful house. you could still remember how soft her bed was, how everything smelled of her. it was making you nervous. you didn’t want to be alone with her. not when she looked this good and you were this drunk and high.

she parked right outside, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. you followed her up the stairs and inside her home, groaning when she turned the lights on and it hit your eyes.

“fuck.”

“what did you take?” she inquired and you giggled.

“what did i not take?” she crossed her arms over her chest and you rolled your eyes. “i don’t know. some weed. cocaine…” she rose one of her hands to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“jesus christ. why the fuck would you do that! are you insane?”

“oh, don’t act as if you hadn’t done it before… we all know shane heart breaker mccutcheon’s reputation.” you scoffed, and she squinted at you.

“and now you want to follow my steps?”

“maybe i do.” you shrugged.

“you’re acting stupid.” she sighed.

“and you’re acting fucking annoying.” you retorted, grabbing at the sides of your head when it throbbed. “ugh you’re making my head hurt.” your legs wobbled and if it weren’t for shane grabbing you, you’d have probably fell onto the floor.

“woah. are you okay?” you shook your head.

“i think… i’m going to…” you clasped your mouth shut with one of your hands and shane’s eyes quickly shot open before she was hurriedly guiding you to the toilet. you fell on your knees, puking your guts out. she grabbed your hair on a make-shift ponytail to make sure that it wouldn’t get dirty. she rubbed your back with her free hand.

“it’s okay, let it go. that’s it.” you groaned, feeling your stomach hurt. you didn’t want her to touch you, not on this state, but at the same time, you just wanted to lean on her touch and forget about everything.

“sorry.” you apologized, not really sure about what, maybe everything. she hushed you.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about it, okay? let it all out.” after a couple of minutes, you felt your dizziness subside, although you were still pretty high. “stay here, alright? i’m gonna go for some clothes you can change into.” you nodded, resting against the cold wall as you took deep breaths.

“fuck.”

you were cringing at the thought of shane seeing you like this, a complete fucking mess, just when she came back to the bathroom with some clothes on her hands.

“come on. let’s get you up.” she offered you her help to get up, hands on your hips to stabilize you as you took off your heels. “do you need help with-“ you shook your head.

“i’m fine.”

“are you sure?”

“shane. i’m fine.” you repeated, harshly, and she nodded. she wanted to understand. if you were acting like this it had to be due to something.

“alright… i’ll… i’ll be outside if you need me.” she nodded, and left the bathroom.

you sighed, leaning on the counter. you looked at the pile of clothes she had left you, and you took them. they were soft, and just as you imagined, they smelled like her.

you pulled over your head your dress, feeling the cold of the bathroom slide into your bones. your skin rose in goosebumps when you slid her shirt on, feeling caged in her and at the same time so free… you were surrounded by shane. and you were ashamed of yourself. you were supposed to be getting over her, not thinking about how much you liked having her on you. you were deep in thought when she knocked on the door. you had already pulled up your legs the shorts she had lent you.

“you okay in there?” she inquired through the other side, and you opened up for her.

“do you have some makeup remover i could use?” you inquired her, shying away from her green deep eyes.

“oh, yeah.” she passed through you, pulling it from the drawers of the sink along with some cotton wipes.

“thank you.” you muttered when she handed it to you.

“no problem.”

there was this… awkward tension in between the two of you. shane didn’t know what to say. she had noticed how lately you’d gone off the rails, but she didn’t really know why. it was your last year of high school. maybe you were just trying to have fun before college…? she was just worried about you.

you took off your makeup, and she stood there with you, cautious in case you felt like getting sick again.

you were still pretty high, although the dizziness of the alcohol had disappeared once you’d gotten it out of your system. suddenly, you felt this knot in your throat. shit. not now.

“hey… are you…? what’s wrong?” you shook your head, wiping away the first tear that fell from your eyes.

“nothing.” you muttered, but she wasn’t having it.

“come on, something must be going on for you to be like this. talk to me, sweetheart.” she pulled you into her arms, rubbing your back as you hid on the crook of her neck. “hm?” she took your face in between her hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“i love you.” you said, and she smiled.

“i love you too, kid.” you shook your head, interrupting her, your hands surrounding her wrists.

“i love you, shane.” she frowned, eyes shooting open in shock when she felt your lips on hers. your eyes were squeezed shut, heart beating harshly against your ribs. it was just a mere touch, two seconds of contact before she was softly pushing you away, breath fanning over your lips. your forehead collided with her chest. “i’m sorry.” you muttered, and shane hugged you, rubbing your back in soft circles. oh, sweet thoughtful shane.

“why don’t we get you in bed, hm?” she inquired, tenderly. she didn’t think too much of it. you were drunk, high and sad. this had all been a slip. a mistake. she had surely had many before. you nodded, and let her guide you to her bedroom. she always let you use her bed when you’d sleep over, using the sofa instead or sometimes sleeping with you when you were younger and would get scared.

“shane?” you inquired her as she made her way to the door.

“yeah?”

“do you think maybe…you could stay?”

she stood silent for a couple of seconds.

“yeah, sure.” she answered, and you moved to make some space for her. she laid on her back, and looked at you. “come here.” you got closer, and leaned on her chest, right above her heart, where you could hear her heartbeat. her hand laced on your hair, rubbing your scalp and brushing it for you to relax —something she has always done since you were little and helped you sleep—. you had to bite down on your lip and swallow your tears.

“good night, shane.” you whispered.

“good night, kid.” she answered.

the next morning. you were gone. and shane didn’t see you again.

-

4 years later…

“there’s my baby girl fresh out of college!!!” you chuckled at your dad’s excitement. you thanked the taxi driver who waved goodbye and started the car to drive away. “oh god, you’ve gotten so big!” you rolled your eyes, hugging him back as he squeezed you against his chest.

“dad… you saw me a couple of months ago!” you laughed and he grunted.

“kids grow so fast…” he sighed, shaking his head and you copied him, rolling your eyes. “come on! let’s get you inside!” he took your suitcase, pulling from it.

four years had passed since the last time you’d stepped on your city, even your house. that night after telling shane you’d loved her, you’d taken the offer one of your friends had given you to work for her during the summer in NY and left LA, later on having enrolled on the local college to continue your education. it was your dad who would come visit you on the holidays, since you’d promised yourself not to come back after you’d finally finished your degree to… disconnect. you needed change. needed to find yourself. and in reality, all of it was a simple excuse. you just needed to get away from shane. you couldn’t look her in the eyes after that night, couldn’t act as if nothing had happened and you hadn’t kissed her. couldn’t ignore the way your whole body had filled with euphoria and your stomach had blown up in butterflies.

so you ran. and did everything in your power to forget all about it. you had made new friends, met new people, dated, broke up, fucked, partied… you’d lived a brand new life away from her. and somehow…, it still felt like something was missing.

“dad… what’s all of this?” you inquired at the amount of snacks and beers decorating the isle of your kitchen. he guiltily smiled and you rose your eyebrows.

“i may of may have not invited some people to throw you a… comeback party?” you groaned.

“dad!”

“i know! but you know your aunt alice! she’s missed you so much… and angelica wouldn’t stop asking for you to bette and tina. so i thought that a little gathering wouldn’t kill anybody…” you sighed. “we’re just happy to have you back home, baby.”

you felt the itch. the need to ask about her. to say her name out loud after all this years. but you fought it.

“you’re right. i’m sorry. i’ve missed them too.” he hugged you again.

“why don’t you take a shower and get ready, hm? i’ll bring your luggage up your room for you. they’ll get here in an hour or so.” you nodded.

“okay. thanks dad.”

-

shane had been shocked to hear the drastic decision you’ve made in moving to new york. you’d packed and left the same day without even saying goodbye. she had tried calling you, of course she had. at least to try and get to know how you were doing over there in that immense city. but it’d always go straight to voice mail. your dad would tell her that it’s because you were real busy with school and your work. so she’d given you space. she had enough knowing through your father that you were alright. though she missed you. you were important for her. she adored you.

the years passed by quicker than she thought. she had taken over a couple of hair salons that now had her name, and sold her photography to great prices, giving her the chance to move to a better apartment. she hadn’t noticed the change that this years supposed for you ‘till she finally got to see you again, four years later.

you weren’t the same little teenager girl she once knew. you had grown up into this beautiful woman with radiant smile and vibrant eyes. you’d gotten a couple more tattoos, she could perfectly see the tramp stamp peeking from your low rise jeans, and outline the bars on your nipples though your tight top. jesus christ. when the hell had you gotten those?

you were wearing a beautiful lip gloss that made your lips pop, and black eyeshadow and waterline in your eyes. your nails were done in a deep shade of red, yet short.

shane had to take a deep breath when you finally noticed her, walking into your house as you took a beer from the kitchen. your dad and the group was outside by the pool, getting ready to eat some meat fresh out from the grill.

she looked good. why did she look so fucking good? and why was your heart going this crazy? for god’s sake, it had been four years already. you were sure you’d finally gotten it under control, but one look at her and those stupid butterflies were back, along with the memory of her soft lips and electrifying touch.

“well if it isn’t new york’s sweetheart…” she said as she finally reached you a smirk on her lips as she leaned on the isle, to what you scoffed. “it’s nice to see you, kid.” her voice was low, and silky. you wanted to groan. she sounded better than you remembered. but instead, you rolled your eyes, leaning on the other side of the isle to get closer.

“i’m not a kid anymore, shane.”

“yeah, i can see that.” she chuckled, eyes training on your body, eyeing you up and down when you turned around and asked:

“want a beer?”

“please.” you opened the fridge once again, bending over to get them from the last shelf, giving her the perfect view of your tattoo and ass. it read: heaven. “thanks.” she said when you handed it to her.

“no problem.” the two of you took a swing form the bottles, fresh beer spilling down your throat. somehow it didn’t help with how hot you were feeling.

“so tell me. how has new york treated you?” she inquired and you shrugged.

“it was alright. kinda busy with college.”

“oh yeah… as if college were everything you’ve been up to, huh?” she teased you, and you chuckled.

“what do you want to know, shane?” you squinted your eyes. “that the parties are amazing there? that the girls are hot?” she smiled.

“yeah, that’s more like it…” she drank again. there was this easy-going atmosphere in between the two of you. you liked it. you thought it would be harsher to face her. but she was shane. how could it be? she always made you feel safe. “see you’ve gotten more tattoos…” her eyes eyes your arms, where some of them stood. “i like them.”

“oh, yeah. have this friend back in the city that would do them for free if she could practice on me.” you laughed, showing them to her. she took your arm, soft fingertips drawing over their lines .

“well, she’s got talent, i’d give you that.” she whistled.

“yeah. taught me how to stick and poke and everything.” you laughed at her shocked expression.

“no fucking way… you tattoo?” you nodded.

“yeah, so if you ever want a new one just hit me up, i still owe you one.”

“true. the hummingbird. how’s it holding?” you pulled down your pants and panties to show it to her, soft skin in display. “might need a little ink.” she hummed, and you pushed your pants back to their spot. you might need something else.

shane tried to ignore the little speck of ink that she saw more towards your center when you pulled your pants down, but it left her with curiosity running through her veins.

you stared at each other, green eyes on yours for a couple of long seconds before she looked away, beer on hand. she couldn’t.

“where’s your dad?” she inquired, and you sighed.

“she’s out by the pool, getting the grill ready.” she nodded.

“see you later?” you nodded, and saw her go outside, being welcomed by her friends.

well… you were fucked.

-

summer in LA was hot. really hot. and shane prancing around your house with one of her wife beaters and tight jeans wasn’t of much help. you could see her arms bulge as she helped your dad put up a new relaxing space on your garden, where he’ll build a wooden ceiling and put up a few couches for you to relax by the pool.

you were currently taking a swim, small black bikini accentuating your perfect body. it was hard to say shane was having a great time.

“hey kid. enjoying the pool?” she inquired, wiping the sweat off her forehead. it was already almost night, the sunset already had been engulfed by the ocean.

you looked up at her, resting against the edge, cleavage on full and exposure.

“really. the water is so refreshing…” you smiled.

“shane!” your father called out for her. “i’m going out to buy some bear. want anything?” he inquired.

“marlboro reds?”

“got it.” she thanked him as he took his keys and left through the main door, leaving the two of you alone. you bit down on your lip at the thought of it.

“hey shane?” you muttered.

“yeah?”

“can i tell you something?”

“anything.” she nodded.

“bend over.” you whispered, and she followed, kneeling on one knee by the pool so she could get closer to you, and just as you were about to part your lips, your wet fingers gripped on her shirt, pulling her inside the pool. she was gasping for air as she came back up to the surface, wiping the water out of her face as you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “oh god! you should have seen your face!!!”

“oh yeah? you think this is funny?” she chuckled, pointing at her wet clothes. the white wife beater let her nipples show now. you tried not to state too much.

“totally.” you nodded, taking a step back when she step closer.

“com’here.” she ordered, waving her hand.

“nah, i’m cool here.” you laughed, and shrieked when she jumped at you. “no!!”

“oh, so now the princess is begging for mercy, huh?” you sputtered as her fingers tickled you, grabbing at your sides. “how’s that? who’s laughing now, hm?” she muttered as you begged her to stop, trying to get rid of her hold. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” she left you breathless when she finally decided to let you go, although you two were close, your back against the wall of the pool.

you looked at her, and chuckled slightly at the messy state of her hair, which now stood completely drenched hiding her eyes and getting all over her face.

“what?”

“your hair. is… wait. let me.” your soft fingertips made contact with the skin of her face, pushing away the strands and behind her ear.

“thanks.” she muttered.

“you’re welcome.” you two stared at each other, realizing just how close you were. your eyes drifted to her chest, which rose and lowered in deep breaths, her perky nipples hard against the white of her tank top.

she stared at you. at your long eyelashes, flushed cheeks due to the lack of air and laughter and your glossy plump lips. somehow you two just ended closer, the hands that had tickled you still on your hips, burning your skin. your eyes met, and after a couple of seconds she looked away, clearing your throat and letting go of you, leaving you freezing.

“fuck. now i’m completely drenched.” she looked at her clothes.

“you could borrow some of mine.” you shrugged, and she scoffed. “what? i’m sure some of my clothes will fit you, shane. or do you want to get your leather seats wet?”

“fuck no.” her nose wrinkled up, and you chuckled.

“just what i thought.” you muttered, swimming towards the stairs and dipping your hair underneath the water one more time before getting out the pool. shane tried really hard to not stare at the perfect view of your ass. your dad would kill her. your dad will kill her. why was she even staring at you this way? for gods sake she had seen you grow up…

you turned around, and she quickly looked you in the eyes. “you coming or not.”

oh for sure.

“yeah.” she said before following after you.

-

“are you sure you know how to do this shit?” she inquired for like the eleventh time, and you rolled your eyes. “hey, i just want to make sure you don’t fuck it up, alright? i’ll live with it for the rest of my life.”

“shane, i’m positive. you’re not the first person i tattoo, alright?” you promised, getting the needles and ink ready.

“cool. cool.” she nodded, laying on your bed. your room stood frozen in your teenage years, full of books and pictures and posters. you even had your favorite music records (at least the ones you’ve had to leave behind for college). it gave you this nostalgic feeling that you couldn’t shake off your bones. your father was out with some of his friends, and you and shane had ended up meeting up to tattoo each other. “but-“ she tried and sit back up, but you pushed her down, pointing one of your fingers at her.

“shut the fuck up.” you ordered, and she rose her hands.

“okay.”

she was going for a simple design. a scorpion on her forearm. you’d done some before, so it would be easy. you’d also made a stencil for her, so you would be fine.

you prepped and disinfected everything, putting on your gloves. “okay. where do you exactly want it?” you inquired her, and she pointed at the place where she thought would look best and you nodded, placing the stencil there to let her see if she’d like it.

“yeah, i like it.” you nodded once again.

“alright. then i guess we’re ready. it won’t take a lot, if it hurts too much just let me know and we’ll take a break.” she scoffed.

“who do you think i am?” she sassily inquired and you rolled your eyes.

“hope you choke on your words, mccutcheon.” you shook your head, taking her arm and leaning over to start tattooing her.

“huh, you wish.” she smirked, taking a glimpse of your cleavage. she breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. come on shane. focus.

those fucking nipple piercings… shit. no. don’t think about that.

you noticed her silence and you decided to check up on her.

“you alright?”

“hm?” she seemed distracted. how couldn’t she be? “oh yeah. don’t worry.” of course it wasn’t like she were thinking about your tits. absolutely not. “so… had any girlfriends in new york?” yeah, let’s change the subject.

you sighed and shrugged. “i mean… not really. messed up around but never got serious, you know what i mean?” she smirked, surprised.

“do tell…” you chuckled, playfully hitting her on the arm.

“what about you?” you inquired, trying to not sound so interested. although you were. you truly were.

“could say the same. you know me.” you nodded, and hid your excitement. so she was single.

she stared at you as you worked. fuck. you were so beautiful. new york had changed you so much. you had always been, but now, there was this… something about you she couldn’t put her finger on. she just knew she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you. and that was no good.

“okay. i’m done.” you smiled, wiping over the tattoo to stare at the end result.

“now that’s amazing.” she whistled, taking a look at it. it hadn’t hurt at all.

“told you…” you muttered and she scoffed.

“oh i’m sorry for being scared, you’re the first kid i let near me with a needle.” you rolled your eyes. there was that nickname again. kid.

did she really still looked at you like one?

she noticed your silence.

“hey. you okay?” you pushed away her touch, nodding.

“yeah, i’m fine.” no you were not. what the hell did you have to do for shane to look at you? would it always be like this? will you always be running after her? “so… you up for retouching my tattoo?” you asked and she nodded.

“yeah, sure. could i borrow your gun, though? i’m not that good at stick and poke.” you gave it to her, along with some ink, gloves and new needles.

you got up from your seat, unbuckling your pants. shane tried to not look at you as you pushed them down your thighs, leaving you in a pretty lace pair of panties. her eyes continuously drifted from you to the tattoo gun as you sat on your bed, legs spread as she sat in front of you. there was no comfortable way she could tattoo you in your room, and having her in between your legs, leaning over and so close to your barely clothed center somehow felt more intimate than the first time around. she looked at you as her fingertips made contact with the skin of your hip bone, carefully pulling your panties down just the slightest to disinfect the zone. your cheeks were burning up when her soft low voice caught your attention. “you ready?” you nodded. “alright. if you need me to stop just say the word.” and then there was the buzzing of the tattoo gun and that burning feeling of the needle breaking your skin. you hissed. you knew it was a sensitive spot, but you always forgot how sensitive.

you thanked god the tattoo was small, ‘cause you couldn’t really look at shane too much without thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. she looked so good in between your legs, hair falling messily in her eyes, tongue sticking out and glossing her lips in concentration. the things you’ve thought about that tongue, the nights you’ve imagined her in this same exact position but with less clothing. this was turning you on. it shouldn’t be turning you on.

“fuck.” you groaned. and she looked at you.

“you’re doing good, just hold on a little bit more for me, alright?” you almost moaned. fuck. and now she was praising you. one particular harsh swipe of the needle almost had you gripping her hair. you could feel her breathing against your skin.

this was all too much.

“shane…” you sighed, your hips twitching upwards involuntarily due to the pain.

“i know baby, i know. i’m halfway there.”

you tried to hold in the need to move, but it hurt, and you were getting horny. there wasn’t much you could do. at one particular point, she had to harshly grip your hip with her free hand, pushing you against the duvet. “don’t move.” she ordered, and you bit down on your lip. holy fuck. this looked so much like those dreams you’d have about her…

you could feel your pussy throbbing.

shane was trying her best to keep her composure. but jesus christ, you were writhing under her, letting out this little pained sounds and you were just in a pair of panties and a tank top. it was making it hard for her. you were making it hard for her.

the room was sticky with tension. she could see the peeking of your pubic hair since she had pulled your underwear down, and your skin was so soft…

focus. focus. focus.

but then…

fuck. you were wet. you were soaked.

her green eyes met the wet patch forming on your panties, and she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. hell, she even forgot the fact that you were her best friend’s daughter.

you perked up at the feeling of her stoping with the tattoo.

“shane?” you called out for her, and then you were letting out this sound in between a moan and a gasp when you felt her fingers pushing in between your lips and over the cloth, slowly, teasingly. “oh fuck. what are you doing?” you gasped in a whisper, your hips rutting against her touch. she smirked.

“me? i’m not doing anything.” she looked at you, and slowly leaned closer to you, leaving this soft peck on your thigh. you shuddered. “tell me to stop…” she whispered. it was more like a begging. she needed you to tell her that this was wrong. that she shouldn’t be touching you right now. that it was a really stupid idea. she was your dad’s best friend. and yet…

“i can’t…” your hand laced on her hair when she started softly kissing your skin, lip in between your teeth. you wanted her. you’ve wanted her for so long… “please…”

you whimpered when her fingers bumped against your throbbing and sensitive clit, your hips bucking against her touch. “what’s this, hm?” your cheeks were beet red, thighs trembling under her green stare. “tell me baby, this all for me?” she inquired, leaving a wet kiss on your thigh and you nodded, muttering a ‘yes’ that had her short of breath.

your back arched when she kissed you on top of your panties, her tongue licking the arousal that dampened the lace. at the same time, her hands grabbed at the seam of your panties, slowly pulling them down your hips and thighs. that’s when she finally caught a glimpse of that tattoo that she had barely seen the day of your party. it was above your mound. and it said: ‘lucky you’.

shane smirked, chuckling. “lucky me…” your cheeks reddened, but all shyness and embarrassment disappeared when her fingers dipped in between your drooling folds, connected by strings of your arousal. shane felt her mouth watering. “such a pretty pussy.” you felt so exposed, but at the same time you just wanted to open up your legs for her, let her see every little crevice of you.

you let out this pornographic sweet moan when her tongue draw a long fat strip from your entrance to your clit, softly suckling on it and making your thighs squeeze her head, what made her groan and bury her face deeper into your pussy.

“fuck…” you cried out, your hands meeting her short messy dark hair, tugging at it. why did it felt so good?

she pushed your legs over her shoulders, her warm hands on your thighs as she sucked on your clit, sticking her tongue out for you to ride her face when you’d hump against her. that was until you felt one finger prodding against your hole, easily pushing inside your tight and warm walls due to how wet you were. “that’s it. open up for me, doll.” she hummed when you whimpered, starting to thrust it in and out of you, your arousal thick and white on her knuckles as you thrusted yourself on her finger and mouth.“taste so good…” she couldn’t get enough, eating you like a starved woman.

“shane.” you whined when she added her ring finger, stretching you out. and how could she resist when you sounded so sweet moaning her name? she just wanted to get more of those sounds out of you, make you cum over and over again until the only thing you could remember was her name.

she groaned. “look at you, fuck. so fucking pretty. what would your dad think, hm? her little girl letting his best friend fuck her like this.” you moaned, pulling from her hair. “oh you liked that, huh? like the idea of your daddy catching me with my tongue on your cunt, baby?” you blushed, embarrassed to like the idea of it, the adrenaline rushing through your veins making the pleasure enhance. her fingers constantly hitting your g spot had you so close to the edge… “of course you do…” she smirked, sucking on your clit. you cried out her name, your hips pushing against her mouth. “you close, princess?” you nodded, biting down on your lip. “cum for me, baby. cum on my face. i’ll clean it all up for you.” she muttered, licking at your folds before latching onto your clit. your back arched. that encouragement being all you needed to fall apart, thighs shaking as your high hit you like a tidal wave with a high pitched moan. she groaned at the taste of your white creamy cum on her tongue, lapping at it in need, the wet sounds of her tongue pushing into you and licking in between your lips filling your room. she kept finger-fucking you to help you ride off your orgasm, sucking at your clit to extend it.

you swore you could see stars on your room’s ceiling, thighs shaking and breathing ragged. it had been the best orgasm of your life.

shane finished cleaning you up, swallowing every last bit of your cum before pulling her fingers out of you and pushing them inside your mouth. her green eyes met yours as you cleaned them for her. and you could just think about the fact that you had just fucked your dad’s best friend.

and how much you wanted to do it again…

-

a/n; 😶‍🌫️

[adventuringblind]

Keep me Close

Past Jules Bianchi x reader, platonic Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: angst

Request: yepyep finally got me some angst things to write

Summary: Charles's new girlfriend can't understand why he's so attached to the reader

Warnings: talks of death, name calling, a table gets flipped

Notes: I definitely didn't cry writing this at one point. Also, no hate to Alex!! I know hardly anything about her, but I know her and Charles are currently together, and it fits the Timeline, so please bear with me.

Masterlist

Your love for Jules was something you find in fairy tales. It was beautiful, and both of you felt connected on a level deeper than anything imaginable.

It started when you were both merely kids. You were six, and he was eight. The two of you had met at the wedding of a mutual friend. Dressed in nice clothing, he'd marched right up to you and claimed to be a knight looking for a princess.

You were inseparable after that. It was like you'd found your soulmate.

When you turned eighteen, Jules had immediately proposed. And when you countered by asking if you were both too young, he said, 'Why waste time when I know I'll love you forever?'"

You'd gotten close with Leclerc family. Specifically with Charles since Jules was named godfather. He spent a great deal of time with you and Jules.

Then 2014. Everyone was sure Jules was going to get a seat with Ferrari. It would be a crime if he didn't.

You remember kissing him, good luck. The last feeling of his lips on your before getting in the car.

You remember telling him to be safe with the rain; that you love him dearly. He replied with his signature wink and an 'I love you more and I always am.'

Then everything stopped. The world seemed to no longer spin. Time refused to move forward as you willed it to go back.

It couldn't be real. There was no way it had happened. You still thought that as you sat at his bedside faithfully for months. There wasn't a world you wanted to live in if it didn't have Jules.

Charles was similarly devastated. He'd lost someone dear to him. The boy spent all his free time sitting with you in the hospital. Even bringing around food that Pascale had made to keep you alive. Something you didn't want to be at that moment.

The bond you'd formed with Charles during this time is hard to explain. There is nothing romantic. He's family despite the age gap not being that large.

He was, and is still, family. You'd promised to still take care of him despite the loss of Jules, and he promised to do the same in his stead.

The start of the 2024bseason brings on an interesting turn of events. Charles had split with his girlfriend before the new year and is now with his new girlfriend Alex.

You like her. She's very sweet as far as you've been told. But there is something there that makes you worry. You just blame the fact that you want the best for Charles.

The first time you met her was at a family dinner. Charles brought Alex with him to introduce her to everyone.

You were actually the first person he introduced her to. You felt honored, but there was something behind her eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint. But you kept it to yourself and made friendly conversation.

The next time you saw her was when she dropped by the Leclerc family home unannounced. The position she caught you in wasn't a bad one, but it probably didn't look good to her.

Charles had a rough race in Monaco, as per usual, and was laying with his head in your lap while you ran fingers through his hair. It's the same thing Jules had done when Charles was a child after a bad Karting race.

Alex definitely didn't look pleased with you. But she managed to put kn a smile and say hello.

It was awkward. Especially after Charles and her went into another room because you could hear them talking in hushed whispers.

Your fingers find the chain with your wedding ring on it. Your lips press against the cold metal as you hold the ring to your mouth. "I hope I'm doing this right, Jules. It's hard without you here."

The last time you saw Alex was at a birthday party. Your birthday party. Something you don't like having after Jules because he was the one who always made the day special.

Charles is a stubborn man though and decided it was necessary. Partly because this is his way of remembering that you are alive and with them, but it also gives him and excuse to drink and dance.

It wasn't anything massive. Or at least - not a massive as it could have been. There were a good number of people crowded into your Monaco home. The food is good, and the music is better. It definitely felt like a party Jules would have dragged you to in your youth.

It's not long until Charles appears at the door with Alex in tow. He comes to you, and you embrace him as usual. The smile on his face makes everything worth it. despite having to deal with a party for a few hours.

Pierre also finds you and starts up conversation. The three of you fail to notice the fourth becoming increasingly agitated.

A loud crashing sound pulls all of their attention. Alex flipped over the table in her agitation and is now sending chills down your spine with the look on her face.

"Why are you so determined to be some kind of homewrecker! Why can't you just stop being a creep to Charles and let us live in peace!" She screams. It hits your mind like a shadow. The world fades away, and your thoughts are filled with the doubts you have daily.

Tears fill your eyes, and your body goes rigid. "I'm Charles' godmother. Y/N Bianchi. I am no homewrecker." You choke.

Charles and Pierre take a protective step in front of you. "Get out!" Charles' voice drips with venom. Alex looks stunned. She doesn't move even as Charles shouts at her. "Nobody gets to speak like that to my family! Get out!"

Then she runs. Avoiding the gazes of disapproval.

Charles spins around and places his hands on your shoulders. His eyes scanning your face to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry that happened. You're amazing. Always have been. And anyone who says differently is a fucking asshole."

Even through the tears, she smiles. Jules couldn't have left her in better hands.

[islandofsages]

Hey ! Can I ask for a male!reader that is a 4th or 3rd year at the NRC (in the dorm you want), and Yuu, Grim and Ortho after seeing him just decided to adopt him like their father ?

The reader is the definition of a good father, and Yuu, Grim and Ortho made him sign the adoption contract (give by Azul).

(Maybe the reader can be the boyfriend of Idia ?)

I just want a reverse adoption with Grim, Yuu and Ortho bc they need a good father.

characters: ortho, yuu and grim with fourth year male reader

tags: platonic, fluff, fic format

warnings: none

author's notes: sorry i didnt do the characters separately, i think they would have similar reactions. also reader isnt with idia bc im keeping this blog fairly romance-free :) thank you for giving me an excuse to write fourth year reader tho, the concept is so interesting and fun to explore!! and hes not in any specific dorm, wanted to keep it ambiguous hehe. honestly this whole thing was my own spin so word count: 974 words

You haven't gone back to NRC in a while. Despite the absolute chaos that goes on way more than often in that school, you’ve grown to harbor fondness for that familiarity. Luckily, you're due for a report of the progress of your internship. Instead of merely sending an email to your professor, you’ll go meet up with him yourself and check up on your underclassmen (maybe even get to know the freshmen) in the meantime.

You are just one of the many seniors of NRC but you found that your dorm members are quite fond of you for whatever reason. So when you come back for that short time period, a few of them come to greet you and catch up with you. Apparently, the abandoned dorm is now occupied by not one but two new students. You didn't even know there was an abandoned dorm!

“One of them can't even use magic and came from a different universe or something? And one of them is literally a magical monster! The school totally got weirder when you left, (Y/N),” one of your dorm members explains. You try to imagine it in your head. Yeah, no, if nobody told you that’s exactly what happened, you wouldn’t have known. You only believe the dorm member because you trust them enough.

“Oh, and remember Idia? The one with the robot brother? He’s a housewarden now. And his brother's a student now. He's an actual freshman,” more gossip makes their way to you. Your eyes widen at the news. You feel like you may remember them, the Shroud brothers - you could tell Idia was trying really hard to stay on the down low so you did him a favor and left him alone for the most part.

You don’t stay at your dorm for very long - you did come to NRC for a reason - and that was to send in that report of yours. Though you already dropped it off before checking up on your underclassmen, you plan just walking around school and taking in the sights that were once so familiar to you. And you haven’t even really graduated yet.

You walk down the hallways and say hi to whoever you recognize, basking in that comfortable familiarity. Some friendlier students stop to chat with you and to be perfectly honest, you feel a little old compared to everyone. You don’t mind but what’s rubbing it in is how some of the students are calling you “Dad” to tease you. You know they’re being playful for the most part but you can’t help but feel a little awkward with the nickname.

Then you run into those three.

You recognize the younger Shroud brother - hard not to with his flames for hair - but you can only guess the other two are the new students occupying that abandoned dorm; one’s uniform seems foreign and the other is not even remotely humanoid. They're definitely eye-catching, especially together. And apparently, you're pretty eye-catching too, with the way they lay their eyes on you while you were talking to another student.

The younger Shroud brother leads the group as they make their way to you excitedly. You're already preparing yourself for what you assume is a normal conversation with these kids. Too bad normal is the wrong thing to expect from these three, you will come to know.

“(Y/N)! You’re back at school!” The younger Shroud - Ortho, that’s his name - exclaims as he flies slightly upwards, happy to see you again. The other two look at you curiously, head tilted to the side and all. You offer them a jolly laugh as you tell the other two who you are and update all of them of how your internship is going. They’re eerily silent when you’re relaying your story but you appreciate not being interrupted. ‘What polite freshmen,’ you thought.

Until they aren’t, because they interrupt you with-

“Can you adopt us?!”

Their eyes twinkle as they clasp their hands together and gaze at you with their best puppy-eye look. Oh, they’re being genuine. This is escalating way too quickly - the nickname was weird enough, you’re not sure what to feel about a bunch of age-ambiguous freshmen wanting a fellow (though presumably older) student to adopt them. You sigh and put on your best smile so as to not disappoint them.

Truth be told, it really isn’t as bad or weird as it sounds. People were already teasing you about it so might as well run along with it. But still. Legally adopting these freshmen would still be too much for you to handle. After all, you’re still going to be preoccupied with your internship. You won’t be present for most of their school years and the last thing you want to be is a father who forgot to bring the milk back home.

You tell them you will think about it, in case they were actually joking and you’re somehow dumb enough to not catch on. They agree to allow you to take your time… but then they start muttering about “getting a contract from Azul” and you immediately step in to stop them from taking any drastic measures.

After that whole ordeal, you leave school more exhausted than you thought you would be. After all, three freshmen literally asked you to become their father and adopt them and were about to get you to agree to some contract.  But then, you find out, they turn out to be the best children you’ve ever had. 

They can be a handful, sure - Ortho is way too curious for his own good sometimes, Grim can’t sit still and picks fights with people often, and Yuu is… Yuu. Being a single father is definitely not the easiest thing to do with them as your children.

Yet you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Good for nothing- BAU team.

Summary: On a case, you run into a figure from your past that you harbour a lot of anger about. It’s about time you unleash it.

Warnings: Vulgar language, Bad breakup, toxic relationship, cheating (main theme), descriptive language about being caught cheating, manipulation and mentions of controlling, abusive relationship.

Pairing: BAU team x fem!reader (platonic).

Word count: 1,543.

"Y/N?" Ice ran through my veins as the disgustingly familiar voice filled my ears. My fingers hesitated from where I had been rearranging pictures on our board, twitching in annoyance. I could feel the eyes of my team on me as they waited for me to answer the voice.

"Adam," I shot out through gritted teeth. Of course, it was just my luck my ex-fiancé would turn up when we were on a case.

"What're you doing here?" I took a breath, composing my face before turning towards him with a blank stare. Why the fuck did he think I was here? Was there a circus in town? If so god knows he'd fit in seamlessly.

"I'm working," I bit back the urge to add 'obviously' to the end of my statement. "This is my team, my job." He looked slightly lost as his eyes flitted around the room, unsure of the many eyes flickering between us.

"Oh, I see. Well, I guess I'll speak with you later." He attempted a smile but it looked more like a grimace, spinning on his heels and practically running to the exit.

"Like hell, you will," I muttered under my breath, suppressing a shudder of disgust as I watched him scamper away. I switched my attention back to the room, a few looks of amusement being thrown my way.

"So, Adam?" JJ's voice was playful and teasing but I fake gagged, imitating throwing up so she got the gist of my emotion towards the cop. "Oh, no Adam huh?"

"Not unless you want your heart ripped out and stomped in the mud honey, no Adam." I spat, the name feeling dirty in my mouth, before returning to my work.

A couple of days had passed since Adam had made his presence known and we had managed to close the case, catch the unsub and deliver the victims back to their families safely, but I couldn't get rid of the itch of annoyance in the pit of my stomach. Realistically I knew it was because when I broke up with him I had left without a word and never dealt with the shit he'd put me through and now I was presented with the opportunity to blow up and let it out.

We were back in the precinct packing up all of the evidence and case notes before we left, collecting what we needed before the trip back to Quantico when he surfaced again, lingering in the doorway like a bad smell. I finally noticed him when he cleared his throat and shuffled into the room.

"Y/N, are you free for that talk now?" I bit back a grin at his audacity and straightened up from the table, glancing his way momentarily before my eyes met Rossi's who shrugged and helped Hotch with files.

"Nope." I popped the P, smiling at him sweetly.

"This is the least you could do Y/N, seriously." The hair on the back of my neck stood as I clenched my fits, nails digging into my palms. "You're the one that left remember." I let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes for a moment as I took in his words. I should've known this was the road he would take. It always was my fault. It didn't matter how big or how small, he never did anything wrong and damaged me enough for me to still hold bad habits from it to this day like apologising for everything and finding fault in every minute of my existence.

"The least I could do?" I seethed, back straightening and eyes staring daggers into him as the tension in the room became suffocating. The air became still as my team stopped in their tracks, wary of how I was reacting. "The least I could do."

"Yeah, that's what I said," his voice shook slightly but he pushed his shoulders back challenging me and staring at me down his nose.

"Of course," I spoke with a sickly sweet voice, "what is it you want to say, Adam?" I smiled at him, coating my anger in sugar as he nodded like he was entitled to this.

"You up and left. The month before our wedding. You broke my heart and I think I deserve an explanation, a reason." He feigned his sadness, eyes sparkling with something twisted as my team stared at me in shock.

"I broke your heart?" I questioned, still sweet enough to cause him some cavities. "Oh, I do apologise. I didn't think it would hurt you that much, you poor thing." The sarcasm practically dripped from my mouth, my eyes portraying fake sympathy as I leant on the edge of the table, close to where Spencer practically gawped at the shit going down. "Tell me Adam, did I break your heart when I cancelled the wedding, or when I took all my stuff whilst you were at work the following day or when I keyed your car. Did that hurt?"

"Yes it hurt, we were supposed to be together forever. You and me against the world and you shrugged it off like I meant nothing." I looked around the room, met with amusement from Derek, shock from JJ, Spencer and Emily and indifference from Aaron and David but I let their emotions spur me on.

"Maybe you could have remembered that when I found you in our home, in our bed, balls deep in some other wining bitch whilst I had just picked out our flowers and cake for our wedding because you said you were working a long shift. Maybe you could have remembered that when I gave you a second chance after the first time I found a girl with your cock buried down her throat on our sofa or maybe that was just me overreacting right. Maybe I should have stayed and lived out a miserable good-for-nothing husband who would rather fuck some random whore that his own wife." My voice had risen in volume as I ranted out angrily, aware of how Derek's amusement had fallen and instead, he had stepped closer to me as if trying to provide comfort and protection. Hyper aware of how tense my team had become as if all wound up to spring into action if I flew at the asshole before me. But the one thing I was most aware of was the way his facade had dripped and instead of the poor little man with the sad story he had become the controlling, self-serving ass I unfortunately knew too well.

"You wouldn't have come home to that if you did your duty as a girlfriend properly, not my fault you never fully satisfied anyone." I held back my flinch as the sting from his word spread through my chest. "I'll bet you don't sleep at night."

"You think you have that big of an impact on my life?" I laughed, packing away long forgotten. "You think I can't function now just because you decided I wasn't enough for you?" My smile was sour and wicked, amusement getting the better of me. "Let me tell you something sweetheart, I couldn't give less of a shit about you anymore if I tried. Yeah, it hurt, fuck me it felt like hell knowing I wasn't enough but then I realised that I had the world at my fingertips and boy did that feel good. I didn't dwell on little old you for long Adam, I went out and made the world my bitch. My only regret is I didn't cut off your dick and feed it to you for being a snivelling, conniving cunt that thinks so lowly of women and poisons any he gets close to. So, was that explanation enough for you?" I asked with a smile, ignoring the way my heart pounded my ribcage and my stomach bubbled.

"Fuck you, you whore." Adam ground out, finally realising he wasn't going to win this competition and I wasn't going to bow to him and cower with fear of disappointing him. With a red face and neck, hands shaking with anger he span around and stormed away.

"You wish!" I yelled after him, a satisfied smile on my face as he slammed the door. Taking a deep shuddering breath, I collected myself, rolling my shoulders and pulling at my shirt sleeves before facing my team with a calm smile.

"That was kinda hot." I burst out in laughter as Emily blurted out, the tension melting away from me. A few laughs made their rounds in the room and I took a seat, knees shaking as the adrenaline faded from my body.

"But seriously, why didn't you say anything? If I'd have known he worked here then I would've found a way for you to work away from him." Hotch questioned, concern in his eyes.

"Honestly, I didn't know, he must've moved towns." I shrugged, "But in fairness, it felt good getting that out of my system. God knows I've waited long enough."

"On a serious note, I think we should let you get pissed off more often." Emily continued with a grin, winking at me suggestively.

"Yeah, I second that." Derek laughed, pulling me into a side hug, his warmth settling my thundering heartbeat.

[02chois]

APPLE CIDER

pairing: kang taehyun x reader

summary: friends— that's all what you guys are, yet why does he brush your hair so fondly? why does he holds your hand as you walk home? And you don't even like each other that much. wait, fuck, maybe you do? does he though? you have to find out someway or another.

genre: romance, comedy, light angst, non-idol au

content: smau + written, reader uses she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, light slow burn, denial of feelings, uni au, cheesy texts, platonic flirting, mutual pining, questionable humor, twt and also my humor, inspired by beabadoobee's song apple cider, passive aggressive jokes, kms jokes

featuring: yeojin from loona as reader, kim chaewon from le sserafim, and kim minji from newjeans

main story status: completed (230329 - 230423)

spin off status: on going

schedule: whenever I'm free

CHAPTERS & CHARACTERS ✰

the five dwarves / 4lyfers / preview

01. Who tf is Kang Taehyun 02. Obviously not you 03. All this for me? 04. You're delusional 05. Point of view 06. I need a tutor 07. Midterms k worded me 08. Get over him 09. Start a new life 10. I barely passed 11. We're just friends 12. Operation: MTJ 13. Misunderstandings 14. Your future gf 15. The what operation 16. YN's missing 17. It's really nice to talk to you 18. Let's give this thing a try 19. First kiss 20. Epilogue

Yeonjun spin off:

01. I'll treat you better 02. My healing 03. A date to remember 04. Epilogue

[more to come]

[nottswitch]

would you be able to write how Fred and George would react towards reader accidentally turning themselves into a cat? like a potion mixup that turns us into a cat and somehow, he wander around to try get someone to fix it but bump into them along the way? I just find it a cute idea and fluffy! 🙌

tysm for this lovely request, I had such a fun time writing it and got a bit carried away (who would've guessed)! I decided to make it platonic, bc you mentioned both of the guys, but feel free to correct me if that's not what you meant! I hope you enjoy reading this little thing <3

warning: platonic!twins x reader, a teeny tiny bit of cursing

wc: 1.5k

» navigation ; masterlist ; fred m.list ; george m.list ; how to request

Your favourite way to spend your free time was to hang around the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, no doubt. The energy was unmatched; you could always find something new to look at and play with even if you had previously browsed every single shelf. And, of course, the twins’ company was a more-than-enjoyable bonus.

There was a major downside, however – and it was the room. The forbidden fruit, something so enticing yet so dangerous – the laboratory where the twins kept experimental samples of their newest ideas. The temptation to try out some potions or sweets they hadn’t released yet occupied your mind at times, but you hadn’t let your impulsive thoughts win yet – hence Fred and George not restricting you access to the lab.

Apparently, all of you had too much faith in the soundness of your mind.

You wandered into the lab, just like you usually did every other day. The shelves were filled with various boxes and trinkets, but one of them immediately captured your attention – it was new and exciting. A small bottle of silver liquid faintly glimmering in the shadows of the “Potions” rack. Before you could stop yourself, your feet dragged you in the bottle’s direction. You picked it up and twirled it around to have a better look – no one’d prevent you from looking, right? A potion so beautiful simply couldn’t be dangerous, could it? One wouldn’t make such an alluring little vial if it wasn’t supposed to be drunk. You’d be less tempted if it had a “drink me” sticker plastered across it.

Before you knew it, the liquid poured down your throat, coating it with the richest sweetness and the freshest chill. You couldn’t hold in a satisfied moan – so tasty, so calming. And there were no side effects! Must not have been a successfully attempted sample, right?

Wrong.

You didn’t necessarily feel it, but your head went dizzy for a brief moment. Oh, that’s nothing, you thought, heading to the mirror – to check, just in case. The problem arose as soon as you looked – more so, tried to look. You couldn’t see anything, not even the mirror itself. The only thing in front of you was the wall.

“What the actual hell?”

No, the words were nothing like this. In fact, they weren’t words at all. All you could hear was a series of meows, so you wondered who could possibly let a cat in here, as the shop had a strict “no pets allowed” policy. But your initial surprise was washed away by a much bigger tidal wave of pure shock as you realized that no one did. You were the cat. A little black and white one, judging by the paws.

Shit. Or, as the only thing you could make out, meow.

You rushed out of the room with all the speed your little legs could provide. Down the stairs, one more turn – and you were in the main area of the shop, lost in a crowd of people, which was an everyday occurrence in the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Kids looked at you, laughing as you stumbled into tables, dumbfounded by an array of extremely unfamiliar sensations and meowing at the top of your lungs – likely added to the fun.

“What do we have here?”

You heard George’s voice somewhere above you and in a desperate attempt to get noticed bumped straight into his leg, getting dizzy once more. You stepped away, the already too-big-to-handle world spinning around. You couldn’t lift your head to look at the man in front of you, but let out a miserable mew to hopefully invoke some sympathy.

“Fred, come look at this!” George called, and his brother swiftly appeared next to him, staring down at you with the same stunned look painted on his face.

“A little kitty cat!” Fred exclaimed, ruffling his hair, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. “How did you get here, little one?”

Not a single customer seemed to claim you, so the twins exchanged glances and turned back to you, scratching their heads. You were finally able to return their looks, trying your best to speak up, say it was you, how couldn’t they see? But all the sounds you produced were awfully similar to a language they couldn’t possibly understand – the cat language.

“Can’t have you here, little one,” George cooed, bending down to try to pick you up.

No! You couldn’t let yourself get humiliated like that! You hissed, backing away and shooting a piercing dagger of a glance in George’s direction.

“Oh, you’re a feisty little kitty!” Fred laughed and tried and failed to pick you up as well. “Come on, don’t be scared.”

You had to get yourself recognized somehow. A look around the shop didn’t help – people, lots of people, stuff flying around and nothing that could possibly give you away. Then, you had a sudden idea – a wild card that could possibly get you caught and kicked out, but you had no other choice. You gathered all your strength and will and started running up the stairs, towards the hangout room – sort of a living space where you could often find yourself with the twins, chilling after a long workday.

“No running!”

If you were a human at that moment, you would chuckle. Fred sounded just like Filch back at Hogwarts.

Both of the guys chased after you up the staircase, but you were faster – to be honest with yourself, you enjoyed having this much of an advantage for once. The much-desired door to the hangout room was open, to your delight – had it been closed, you’d be in much bigger trouble. You ran inside and almost knocked over a chair standing in your way. Fred cursed as he tripped over it and barely made it out without falling to the ground.

“You little prat!” he screamed, reaching for you but once again, failing to grab you as you wiggled your way out of his arms. “George, hurry!”

Your target was already close – a picture of you with Fred and George on the opening day of the shop, laughing and hugging each other. You jumped on the table – it felt so effortless that a thought to stay as a cat had briefly crossed your mind – and turned towards the room, where you saw Fred approaching you from the front with a wand in his hand; George was coming towards you from the right, spreading a small blanket in the air.

You had to act quick. You let out the loudest meow you could muster and your spotted black and white tail slid across the frame of the picture, following the movements of your human self.

“Freddie, tell me I’m not mad.” George squinted, trying to distinguish the movements of your tail. Your spirits were finally up and you tapped your smiling face with the tip of your tale.

“Mate, I’m as mad as you are,” Fred replied, putting his wand back into his pocket, “Is it…?”

You meowed in agreement, seeing as he was almost there with the guesswork. Fred exchanged playful glances with George and burst out laughing, his brother following suit.

“Bloody hell, what’ve you done?!”

George plopped down on the couch, Fred remained standing, his arms crossed on his chest. You decided to make yourself comfortable and jumped straight onto the armchair, wrapping your tail neatly around your paws.

“No, seriously, what?” Fred wondered, raising his eyebrow and staring at you as if he was actually expecting an answer. You let out an annoyed high-pitched meow. “What an idiot!” was what you were trying to say.

Realization dawned on the brothers at the same time.

“Merlin, the potion!” they exclaimed together, slapping their foreheads with their palms.

“’ight, mate, note – side effects.” Fred was still laughing, which greatly annoyed you and you decided your feelings to be let out by a warning hiss. “Subject turns into a spicy cat.”

You growled, but Fred only chuckled at your frustration.

“Don’t worry, it should wear off in an hour. ’course if we counted properly that is…” George attempted to calm you down, stretching out to stroke your furry head, but you could tell he was uncertain. The touch was nice though, and you caught yourself purring – a sound so unfamiliar yet so natural in your current state. “Aw, Freddie, look!”

You pulled away, not willing to give the courtesy, and before you knew it, your fangs were plunged into George’s finger.

“Ouch!” he screamed, shacking his hand in the air and blowing at a small wound starting to form on his index finger. “Note – unprompted aggression!”

You sat back, proud of your doing, your tail resting on your paws again.

“Oh, kitty cat, you will pay,” Fred warned you with a devilish grin on his face. “You still have about fourty minutes.”

His eyes glistened with mischief, same as George’s, when they looked at each other and then at you again.

“The first to pick her up wins ten galleons, go!”

You screeched, jumping on the back of the armchair as the twins lunged in your direction. The next fourty minutes were to be… promising.

[trancylovecraft]

| ★ : could you maybe do headcanons on how striker be if he was jealous? Like he saw reader drunk flirting with someone? How would that be? — ♪ .

(HELLUVA BOSS) YANDERE STRIKER x FLIRTATIOUS DRUNK! READER: Headcannons

Thanks for ordering!

Come again soon!

Ooh, Not a good situation, Especially with the likes of Striker.

Striker barely lets you out of the house at all. The only time's he ever does is when he's taking you on dates down to the lust ring and even then it's very sparingly he does. He needs to keep you safe, You know?

Even then when he takes you down to a nice place with a bar it's not like you'll be away from him long. You're either hanging off his arm or sitting in his lap, No in-betweens with this man.

But let's say when you're going down to the bar Striker gets distracted by something, Let's say it's when he's taking your next order. By this point you've been drinking to take the edge off of your stalker (It's Striker, But you'll never know)

So you've been popping corks and downing shots of moonshine, No one's stopping you of course and there is no drinking limit. This is hell after all.

So as Striker is distracted by the waitress and him ordering your food you find yourself dazed by the restaurants flashing strobe lights, It seems more like a club with the hollering music and the near screaming chatter of crowded people.

You barely register an arm slinging over your shoulder and a sleazy smile appearing on an unknown mans face. You're mind is fuzzy and blurred as your smile becomes slurred.

Striker by nature is extremely jealous. I headcannon him as possessive and he does NOT like it when you talk to anyone other than him, Even if it's platonic or in a professional setting he just cannot stop the deep desire to shoot that person through the head and take you away.

It's why he's so clingy in the first place. He doesn't like anyone trying to steal his possession so he lets everyone know who you belong to with his presence being with you 24/7

He tells himself his feelings is just because he wants to protect you. Not because he's jealous, No, His pride is too large to admit that. It's not like he'll ever admit it either, No matter how much you ask.

As the man starts flirting you start to flirt back without a single thought in your mind. A sly compliment here and a mindless sultry response in return, You can barely keep your legs straight as he begins to guide you out of the restaurant.

BOOM!

Suddenly the demon fell to the floor with a gunshot wound going straight through his head. His body slumps over as the chatter around you turns to screaming and people try to exit the restaurant in mass.

You barely register when you're grabbed by the arm and Striker gets up in your face, Screaming as he asks you "What the hell you were doing" in his accent. You don't understand his words as you slur your response.

Striker doesn't have time for this as he hoists you over his shoulder. He's absolutely furious as he spits on the corpse of the demon and carries you out of the club. He can barely contain the snarl on his lips as he throws you over the back of his horse.

Later on when he calms down and you've sobered up. Striker realises that it wasn't your fault, You were drunk but that didn't mean it made him any less angry or paranoid.

Luckily you remember the events through spinning lenses but Striker tells you that it was an accomplice of your stalker and he had to kill him for your safety. You believe him, He's done so much to protect you so why would he lie.

Doesn't mean you get off scot free though. No more dates for the next few months and you're forced to stay inside your room as punishment for "cheating on him". Striker's forgiven you, But he still does like the look of guilt and remorse in your eyes.

Overall, Just don't go to shady restaurants in hell. Also get the fuck away from Striker but that's neither here nor there.

[smilesatdawnmain]

Ask the Character (4)

Hello everyone!! Thank you to everyone who has been participating in these! Really helps to understand these characters a bit more on my side! (Feel free to go through old characters asks to and ask questions if you want still :))

Same rules as before: You’ll put your question in the comments, and I’ll update this post with the answer and comment back to let you know :3

Previous character ask

Next

Going through my spin wheel we got our next Candidate!

Qi Haoyu (Oc fan child who is heavily inspired by Black Myth: Wukong’s protagonist/the destined one) (Link for the Au he is from)

(Basically Sun Wukong and Macaque’s first born in this au. He looks strikingly like Wukong except for his blue eyes and little beauty spot above his eyebrow)

—- (Answers below!!) @cosmodust3

"What do you like to do in the day? Does any of your siblings likes that too?"

----

@lemonboywriter

"Do you like art? Like drawing, theatre, music, etc"

-----

@kodee-22-blog

"What are some of the responsibilities you have when it comes to your family? Like do your parents have expectations for you? Do you think your siblings have expectations for you? Does it ever feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders??"

--------

@shiomik

"Hi!! I hope I'm not bothering you, can I come closer? I brought you this as a gift! *extends some apples to him, but waits for him to take them* If I don't bother you, can I ask you a question? What is the most beautiful moment you have experienced with your family? And outside of your family, who is your favorite member of the tribe?.|

---

@youre-awesome96

"With so many responsibilities (destined one, first Prince of the monkey king, '7' whole younger siblings) what do you like to do to get away from that for a time and relax? Do you prefer alone time, or calm time with family/friends?"

He likes to sneak away to his Love~

-------

@sakurablossoms-world

"Out of all of your siblings who are you closest with? And if you could describe each of your family members in one word what would it be?"

He is closest with Mk~

------- (I gave given Xue a bit of a redesign lately, which is why she looks different btw)

------

@kodee-22-blog

"Did you know you’re absolutely handsome (in a platonic way) and I bet you’re a wonderful big brother to all your little siblings. I saw that you get a long the most with MK, what do you like to do with him, to help the stress of the world not seem so bad?"

These two LOVE to collect Monkey King Merch together~

[lesbianfakir]

Thinking about this post and can we talk about how important it is that fakir was okay with Duck not loving him back?

I think it’s fair to say it’s pretty heavily implied that he’s in love with her, and it’s explicitly confirmed in the guidebook.

While Duck’s feelings for him are more nebulous and hard to pin down, from his perspective she’s in love with Mytho. We as the audience know she doesn’t actually feel that way about Mytho but from Fakir’s perspective everything she’s done so far has been for Mytho. She admitted to him in episode 12 that she had feelings for mytho and there has been nothing to dissuade him from this line of thinking. In fact, he finds her crying because mytho chose rue.

There’s this little moment I like. When Duck tells him mytho has chosen rue as his princess his eyes narrow ever so slightly.

[ID: two screenshots of Fakir from episode 25. In the first he is looking at Duck (off camera) with a serious expression. In the second he narrows his eyes slightly. End ID]

He REACTS to this news, even if it’s subtle. And he doesnt look happy about it. Fakir is upset that Mytho rejected Duck. And this seems so antithetical from what we come to expect from a romantic subplot.

So the girl he loves loves someone else… and he’s okay with that. He never tries to pressure or guilt Duck into being with him. Hell he never even mentions his feelings. She likes someone else so what’s the point. But this never dissuades him from his devotion to her. He doesn’t give her an ultimatum or make her choose. He doesn’t even seem get upset that she loves someone else. Even when she goes back to being a duck destroying his last hope of being with her romantically, even then he never wavers. He wants to spend the rest of his life with her. Whether that’s as friends or as partners or as just a simple boy and a duck, he wants to be with her. How she feels for him doesn’t matter so much as getting to share his life with her.

And I find this such a refreshing spin on tired romance tropes. “Just friends” looms large in our media so it’s lovely to see a boy in the so called “friendzone” who’s okay with it. Beyond okay he treasures the time he spends with Duck. His affection for her doesn’t hinge on reciprocation.

It’s so common for characters in fakir’s archetype to grow angry or sad that they’re not “the one,” often lashing out at the girl who doesn’t return their feelings. But instead we have Fakir who’s perfectly content to stay Duck’s friend. After all, being her friend is a gift in itself.

I just love to see a platonic relationship not treated as a lesser stepping stone to a romantic relationship. Sure, Fakir has feelings for Duck. But that in no way undermines the friendship they already have. It’s treated with all the gravity usually reserved for romantic relationships. They’re going to spend their lives together and whether that’s as friends or as lovers—that part isn’t important.

I’m tired of media treating friendships like they’ve suddenly become worthless when one party develops feelings and the other doesn’t return them. With fakiru, the lovely part is that their relationship is built on such a strong foundation it can stand on its own. We the audience are free to interpret it as romantic, platonic, or something in between, but with any reading their close friendship forms the centerpiece.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Who goes on a date with who at the Golden Saucer?

• After the Loveless performance that Genesis dragged them to, the sky wheel is giving out free rides to couples only, and Angeal will be damned if he lets them pass up something free.

Genesis: Come with me. It's not a big deal, it's just a gondola ride.

Sephiroth: Never. The idea of being publicly entwined with you romantically is nauseating.

Genesis: They're giving out free candy at the end.

*Sephiroth wraps an arm around him*

Sephiroth: Gay rights.

• Zack and Cloud go as buddies, but Zack is getting increasingly jealous at all the happy couples in line around them and feels left out.

Zack: Aww, that guy just kissed his girl on the cheek and held the gondola door open for her. Why don't you treat me like that?

Cloud: Because we're not dating??

Zack: So you're scared to commit. Coward.

Cloud: What about AERITH?

Zack: So you're scared of polycules. Coward.

• Angeal and Lazard have a nice time waiting in line together, making conversation about things they have in common. And then their turn to get on the gondola arrives.

Angeal: There's the nothing weird about this. We're just two colleagues riding the sky wheel together. Nothing romantic about it.

Lazard: I couldn't agree more.

*The door closes*

Angeal: I had no idea you felt this way about me.

Lazard: !?

• They have the opportunity to go again, so this time they all switch. Putting Zack and Genesis in the same gondola was a mistake.

Zack: I bet we can make this thing spin super fast!

Genesis: You're on!

• The Saucer police show up 10 minutes later to stop the ride because they were unscrewing the gondola from the wheel. Zack and Genesis are then banned from the sky wheel.

• Lazard tries his luck with Angeal again after Angeal assures him that he was only joking.

*They're waiting in line*

Angeal: When will you tell your wife about us?

*Everyone in line gasps and looks at them*

Lazard: THAT'S IT

*Lazard lunges at him and they have to be escorted out by security*

• Since everyone else in JAIL Cloud invites Sephiroth to come with him.

Cloud: I hope you understand that this is a normal, platonic activity.

Sephiroth: Absolutely.

Cloud: So you don't misinterpret my invitation as something more.

Sephiroth: Perish the thought.

*The gondola door closes*

Sephiroth: Strange way to propose, but I accept.

Cloud: HUH?

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ♡

navigator!zoro and swordswoman!nami headcannons

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 ♡

➥ all gender neutral

[zoro, romantic] "do not kiss me again"

[usopp, romantic] "i once told you i'd kissed a thousand women..."

[zoro, nami, platonic] "they're cheating, you know"

[nami, romantic] “kiss her you fool”

[zoro, romantic] “brazen”

[nami, platonic/romantic] “she’s my friend”

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄 ♡

moodswings

how zoro, sanji, and luffy deal with a pms-ing reader... f!reader

too sweet

nami, zoro x gn!reader

their mermaid lovers

mermaids and pirates should be sworn enemies by default... but you decide to spin that precedent on its head. various x mermaid!reader

big brothers, little sisters

aka an older sister fulfills her childhood wish for a big brother various x sister!reader

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ♡

nothing yet...

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘 ♡

are you still sad?

luffy had always been more observant than you gave him credit for. f!reader, opla!luffy

i remember thinking i had you

you'd always had a feeling luffy's dreams would outgrow you, but when that day finally arrives, you're not as prepared as you'd thought you'd be. now he's willing to take a chance to make his dream come true, fully believing you're right behind him. you have a decision to make: risk everything for the boy who means everything, or set him free of your doubts. gn!reader, multi part fic, opla!luffy

you can talk to me, but you already know

a mission to recover your prized research from your greedy ex-employer goes awry when you, the crew's pacifist, decide to join the fight in the name of saving your beloved captain. when you awake from your near-mortal injuries, luffy demands to know why you put yourself in danger, and you're not sure you can answer him. gn!reader

wedding crashers

you're less than pleased to be marrying the arrogant noble your parents arranged for you. On the day of your wedding, you cross paths with a pirate who seems keen on ruining your big day, and you couldn't be more thrilled.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 ♡

flavors of home

in which even though you've been rescued, you're homesick. a certain pirate chef is more than willing to help cure the ailment. f!reader

we are never getting back together (?)

in which you, now a successful singer, and sanji, now a pirate, reunite unexpectedly when you return to baratie for a one night only performance.f!reader

the one where you say no to the cat

your daughter really wants a cat, and you're adamant that the answer is no... until it starts to look like a yes.wife!reader

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎 ♡

get some sleep

you just can't get to sleep thanks to a terrible rainstorm terrorizing the ship. luckily, your tossing and turning inspired nami with an idea: just go sleep with the swordsman. f!reader

got me spinning like a ballerina

in which zoro doesn't dance, but he has no issue in watching you twirl yourself off your feet. so long as you twirl back to him when your feet get tired. f!reader

sail again

once upon a time, you'd weaseled your way into the demon pirate hunter's confidance, and maybe even his heart too. but one bounty gone wrong leads to you being left behind, and you just can't understand why. f!reader, apothecary!reader, multi part fic, opla!zoro

is she divine, is it the wine?

the grace of the sword and the stage come together as the strawhats' swordsman and dancer fall in love. zoro x fem!dancer!reader

quality time

you and zoro train together every morning, so it was only a matter of time till one of you got hurt (spoiler: it's not zoro) gn!artist!reader

once upon a dream

Long ago, you were cursed to one day sleep for an eternity—unless you’re presented with true love. You thought destiny couldn’t find you on the high seas, but when you're sorely mistaken, it's up to a certain swordsman to get his act together and rescue you from eternal sleep. sleeping beauty au, princess!reader

𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏 ♡

coming soon...

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ♡

im a quilt of all the ones I've loved

nami thinks theres so much of you wrapped up in all of her, that not even distance or time could change the way she feels. or in which three little bits of you now make up the patches of nami's person. f!reader

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Platonic Stobin Mind-Reading AU Part 2

Part 1

The house is quiet when Steve slips in. It always is, now.

He toes his shoes off, unable to bend over enough to untie the laces. His ribs protest the slight hunch of his shoulders, stomach roiling in queasy warning to not curl in further.

The house is quiet, but Steve can almost feel the warmth of an arm around his shoulders. And he doesn’t feel alone. He looks around the foyer, almost waiting for his parents, or hell, the ghost of Hopper to appear. Nothing does.

He’s leaving smatterings of blood and mud with every step, speckling the white carpet in signs of life as he flicks on every lightswitch on his way toward the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, staring up at the insurmountable obstacle to his bed. With a sigh, he turns his back on the climb and stumbles his way toward the couch in the living room, collapsing down into it. Blood is already smearing into the velvety green of its cushions. He ignores the little voice in his head that sounds alarmingly like his Mother, berating him for leaving so many signs of life in her pristine house for lifeless dolls.

Steve falls asleep, alone in his empty house. The comforting weight is still around his shoulders.

It’s still dark when he wakes up, gasping around a nightmare he doesn’t remember having. His stomach roils with fear, like he’s still down in the Russian bunker, begging to keep his fingernails attached to his body. There’s no more comforting weight across his shoulders. He still doesn’t feel alone.

Steve leans across the couch and vomits. There’s very little left in him, popcorn dissolved into green stomach acid. The carpet’s beginning to look like Christmas come early. If she comes back, his Mother will not be pleased.

He doesn’t get up to clean it, exhaustion hitting hard even as the fear persists. He falls back asleep, wakes up mid-nightmare to a pounding at the door.

He stares at the ceiling, stuck still half in nightmare with the pounding of demodog feet echoing through the bunker where Robin and Steve are still tied back to back, her head pressed to the back of his own, Dustin’s screams filling the air as Steve writhes desperately to free himself and protect the kid.

Someone is still pounding at his door. He stumbles off the couch, ribs screaming, head spinning, ears buzzing, eyes half closed against the light as he opens the door, unable to even see who’s in front of him.

“Dingus, where have you been?” they say. Steve forces his eyes open wider past the light and pulsing of his head, willing his swollen eyes to make out Robin’s face. “I’ve been knocking for like five minutes! I was starting to think you were dead! And I was getting so scared that you’d gone off in the woods to die. Cats do that, you know.”

Steve blinks at her, struggling to keep up with her tirade. “Huh?”

Robin rolls her eyes. She steps into the house, making to shove past him where he’s blocking her entry. “Oh just let me in, it’s so hot out–”

She stops talking when her elbow hits his forearm. Stops moving too. Steve stares past her into the empty driveway, wisps of her hair tickling his cheek.

There’s relief coursing through him, thoughts running through his mind that can’t be his own–Thank god he’s alright, I thought he died, what would I have done? Thank god–can’t believe I care about Steve the hair Harrington enough to show up at his house uninvited, what kind of bizarro world are we living in, this is weirder than that flesh monster I swear to god–

Steve stumbles back, spine connecting painfully with the doorknob as the door swings back loudly into the wall with the force of his weight. Robin’s looking at him, eyes wide. There’s a bruise blooming on her cheekbone. Even past the confusion, he’s overwhelmed with the relief that she’s here, standing in front of him, whole and alive.

She reaches her hand out slowly, like he’s a stray cat that could be spooked at any moment. Her fingers latch onto his forearm, curling around it tight enough that her fingers dig into his flesh.

–that supposed to be what a demodog looks like? Dustin was really underselling it, I think I’d take Russian’s any day, aww Dingus was worried about me, wait wait wait, how do I know that he, did he sleep in that stupid outfit? where are his parents? why can I see–

Steve wrenches his arm free, ignoring the stinging of Robin’s fingernails scraping across his flesh. They stare at each other. Steve can feel himself breathing too fast. Wisps of Robin’s hair are sticking to her forehead with sweat. The door is still open.

“Dingus?”

“Good thing you’ve gotta breathe or I don’t think I’d ever get a word in,” Steve says without thought.

Robin brings her hand up to her mouth, eyes widening impossibly further. “Were you thinking about the demodogs?”

“Were you thinking that us being friends is weirder than the mind flayer?”

Robin drops her hand and smiles. “We’re friends?” she asks, voice chipper. “Wait, no! What is going on!”

They stare at each other some more. Robin looks manic, like she’s trying to pop her eyes out of her skull with the force of her stare. Steve, without looking away, reaches behind himself for the knob still pressed into his spin and slowly closes the door.

“Did you have a nightmare last night and throw up?” Robin nods. “Did your Dad have his arm around your shoulders?” Nod. “Well, shit.”

He finally turns away, stumbling back to the couch and gently settling down, leaving enough room for Robin beside him.

They settle like two, hunched quotations, knees settled together, hair brushing with how closely they’re eying each other.

“Anything?” Robin asks.

Steve hums, squinting his eyes with the focus of his concentration. Her eyes are blue, unlined but all but the barest remnants of smudges from her usual make-up. She looks a wreck. He’s pretty sure he loves her.

Are you excited right now?” he asks because he feels it bubbling up his throat, like someone’s just barely holding back a deluge of words, and it’s not him.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes up toward her head. “How are you not?” she demands, pulling her hands away from her knees to gesticulate in the scant air separating their bodies. “This is like superpower territory, Steve! We can read minds!”

Steve swallows around the excitement, feels his own warmth curl up in his chest at her joy. “So far only each others.”

Robin jolts, hands coming to clutch at the fabric across her chest, fist tight. “Oh,” she breathes. “Is that what you’re feeling?”

There’s something else clogging up his throat now. Not words. Tears, maybe. Steve looks down at his own bloody hands, trying to make words where only feelings exist, then remembers he doesn’t have to. He reaches out, snatches her hand, and lets himself feel.

“Why are you picturing us making Thanksgiving dinner together?” she asks, laughing even as tears bubble out of her eyes. Always a sympathetic crier, his own begin to well.

“We’re like, stuck together now, right?” He lets go of her hand, gets rid of the distracting feedback loop of two minds thinking around each other. “That like makes us–family?”

Robin sobs and launches herself into his arms. Unfortunately, the pressure on his ribs is violent enough to almost make him vomit again. Maybe he makes a noise of pain, or maybe she gets some sense of the way his vision is whiting out from pain through his thoughts, but she scrabbles backwards instantly, hands shuffling her further and further away until her back hits the armrest at the other side of the couch.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I just got caught up in the moment, and forgot you’re totally fucked, and dingus! Shouldn’t you be in the hospital? Because all I saw there was a white light, and that doesn’t mean you’re dying, does it? Did I kill you?”

Steve laughs but it comes out more as a cough as agony falls back into the bearable threshold of pain. “I’m fine, Robin,” he says, eyes squeezed closed as he eases himself back into a fully seated position. “I got checked out in the ambulance, same as you.”

Robin, uncharacteristically, doesn’t respond. When Steve opens his eyes, all signs of tears are gone from her face, replaced with a look that clearly shows how done with his bullshit he feels. “And they told you that you were fine?” she demands.

“This all just needs to heal on its own,” he says, gesturing from his face down his torso.

Robin scoots back over to poke his cheek with her finger. He can hear her thinking about the likelihood of him being full of shit, the pros and cons of kidnapping him via her Dad’s SUV. Steve slaps her finger away, but whatever she must’ve gleaned from his own mind satisfied her enough that she doesn’t make a move toward the door or the phone.

She eyes him up and down, gaze traveling down his bloody form, to the splotches he’s left on the couch, and the slowly-developing stains on the carpet, grimacing in disgust.

“Okay, Dingus,” she says, clapping her hands sharply enough to make his ears ring. “Game plan time. You need a shower and a change of clothes pronto. Then–have you eaten?”

“I’ll be in trouble if I don’t clean this up.” He’s too worn out to even bother gesturing at the carnage surrounding them, much less bending around his ribs to scrub.

A furrow forms between Robin’s eyebrows as she contemplates him, mouth pursed like she’s trying to solve complex algebra. Or no, she’smart enough for that to be a breeze. So more like she’s trying to figure out how to scoop his brain out and blow on it until it works better.

“Where are your cleaning supplies?” she asks.

“Robin–”

“No. You’re hurt, and I’m fine. Go take a shower.” Like she can sense him looking, her hand jumps up to cover the singular bruise on her cheekbone. “It’s not the same. Where are the cleaning supplies?”

Her words are so harsh, that he speaks before thinking: “down the hallway in the closet.”

She jumps up, walking with her usual frenetic energy as Steve tries and fails to will himself to get up and stop her. It’s only a few moments after he hears the closet door click open that she shouts, “go shower!”

He goes.

Steve has to peel his uniform off. Mud and puke and blood have dried and merged to his skin. Scabs open where he pulls until he can leave the whole thing crumpled into the smallest ball he can manage in the trash can, salvaging only his nametag as a keepsake, wondering idly if Robin will switch him.

The shower hurts, but he feels divinely clean as he bends over just enough to shuffle into clean sweatpants and an old Hawkins swim team shirt from sophomore year, washed and worn enough to be soft against his skin. He doesn’t put products in his hair, doesn’t even brush it, all remaining energy used in stumbling down the stairs to stop Robin from overworking herself needlessly.

The air smells like a janitor’s closet, enough concoctions mixed together on his Mother’s carpet to wage chemical warfare. Robin’s on her hands and knees, scrubbing ferociously with a scrub brush at the grout between tiles at the entryway. Steve steps around the couch, peering down at the carpet, off-color with cleaner instead of his various bodily fluids. The couch is similarly immaculate, velvety cushions rubbed roughly against the grain from Robin’s ruthless cleaning.

“I threw away your shoes,” Robin calls as she gathers up the cleaning supplies surrounding her and stumbles her way back toward the closet. “There was a concerning amount of blood pooled in the soles, Dingus. Ain’t no way that was all coming out.”

Steve looks around at his clean living room again. All this work, and all he can feel from Robin is pleased satisfaction. Steve feels like he’s going to cry.

“I threw away my uniform.”

Robin laughs. “It’s not like we’re gonna need them anymore.”

Steve pulls the nametag out of his pocket. The stupid anchor is flecked with blood but otherwise it’s pristine. He holds it out to Robin when she troops back into the room.

“You can be me,” he says.

Her eyes light up as she takes it and immediately affixes it onto the front of her shirt. She shuffles back to the side of the couch where she’d tucked her backpack and riffles through it, murmuring quietly enough that he can’t quite make it out. She gives a cute little Ah-ha! When she finds whatever she’s looking for before skipping back over to him, grin crooked it’s so big.

“We can trade.” And there, tucked in her palm is her own, slightly charred name tag. She pins it to his shirt, pricking him with the pointy end before finally settling it in place. “You can be Robin, and I can be Steve!”

It settles easy around his shoulders, like he really can take a step back. Be someone else. Breathe. “I’m Robin,” he murmurs.

She smacks his chest over the nametag, gentle enough to barely hurt.

“Well Robin, what’s for lunch?”

They eat sandwiches in front of the TV. Robin complains about his movie collection, even as she jumps up and down excitedly and puts in Grease. It’s comfortable, easy to forget who’s dead, and who’s injured, and how fucked up their brains are now. It’s between The Breakfast Club and Fast Times that Robin gasps, sitting bolt upright and slapping his thigh.

“Truth serum, Steve! It was truth serum!”

“What was?”

“They wanted to open our minds!”

Steve, up until this point, had thought that was obvious, didn’t realize that for once she was trailing just a bit behind him in the obvious revelations category. “Yeah, and they did.” Robin’s nodding like she can’t stop. He puts his palm flat on her head and holds it still. “Opened them so wide we swallowed each others.”

Steve can’t tell who’s thinking it, but suddenly he's picturing two brains in horrible sailor outfits and terrible mouths that hit a little too close to the demogorgon. One’s mouth is open wide enough to eat the other whole. Then they’re laughing, uproariously, like they’re watching the same funny little show, like the television hasn’t turned to static in front of them.

“Now we can’t keep any of the truths from each other,” Robin says at the same time she’s thinking about that embarrassing crush she’d had on her seventh grade teacher.

In a bid to even the playing field, Steve thinks about little Sally Perkins who he’d liked so much in fourth grade that he’d smashed a grasshopper into her hair and had to miss out on the rest of recess. She’d never talked to him again.

Robin laughs but still shuffles away so his fingers aren’t touching her scalp anymore. Her thoughts flit away, but her hazy contentment lingers.

Steve gets up to switch out the movies, brain buzzing away. “Okay so I feel what you feel, right?” he asks, not waiting for a response. “And I can hear what you’re thinking when we touch.”

“You can hear it?”

Steve starts up the movie and sits back in his place on the couch. Robin looks horrified by this. “You can’t?”

“No!” she shouts, forgetting herself enough to smack her hand into his shoulder, jostling his numerous injuries. Robin grimaces, “Sorry, it’s just, you can just hear what I’m thinking? You can’t like, see anything?”

“You can see things?” Steven demands.

“Holy shit!” Robin bounces up on her knees and just keeps doing it, like a kid excited to open presents on Christmas. “Do you know what this means?”

Steve looks over at her, eyebrow furrowed. “That you’re a–girl?”

“No!” Robin stops bouncing. “I mean, yeah. But no, Steve. What the fuck?”

“I just mean that’s like the only difference between us, right? What else could it be?”

He can feel amusement bubbling up in her stomach, but Robin just stares at him, like she’s too stunned to laugh. “I just meant that some smarty pants scientist should like study us. Because like, we’re proof that some people think differently right? Me all in words and you all in these fancy schmancy pictures! That has nothing to do with our genders, Harrington. That shit’s made up!”

Steve doesn’t know how he feels about being studied by scientists. He’d heard about mini Byers time with those Upside Down quacks and wasn’t sure he was interested in his own stay. It would be nice to have someone who knew what they were doing to help them navigate whatever minefield they’d found themselves in but not at the cost of Robin’s safety. But if they just need a smarty pants who think they know everything then–”Henderson’s smart.”

“You want to call your children?” Robin asks, laughing.

“Think about it!” he replies, slapping the couch. “The lab people are all sketchy, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to be locked up without sunlight for the next hundred years.”

“Okay, yeah but–”

“Your parents aren’t in the know, and I’m practically an orphan. Hopper died.” Steve cuts out, choked up over the thought just like he had been in the mall parking lot when he’d first been told. Robin squeezes his calf. “That takes Joyce out of the running since she's grieving and shit. That just leaves the kids!”

“What about Nan–”

“Things are still kind of weird with Nancy and Jonathan, Rob!” he says, running his fingers through his hair and pulling sharp enough to burn. “If we have to, sure, call her, but I don’t know if this counts as the kind of life or death scenario I would do that in.”

Robin sighs, folding over until her head’s on his thigh, stomach pressed into his calves. “Can we call him tomorrow?” she asks, voice muffled by the cotton of his sweatpants. “My head’s killing me and that kid is so shrill.”

Steve runs his fingers through her hair, coming it back from her face. His fingers come in contact with her forehead long enough to get a quick burst of–feels nice, I wonder if this is why all the girls liked him, or if it was all those rumors I heard about his mouth, eww eww gross don’t think about–before her thoughts cut out. “Tomorrow,” he agrees.

They settle in to keep vegetating, Steve slumping further into the arm rest, Robin turning her head and wrapping her arms around his calf. The quiet lasts for ten more minutes before Steve just has to ask, “What do you mean gender is made up?”

Robin cackles.

[in1-nutshell]

Human Buddy going through a break up with the Scavengers

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Comfort from everyone, Human reader

Buddy had been in a relationship before they had left Earth and kept in contact through the internet when they met the Scavengers. The group had heard plenty of stories about this mysterious partner of Buddy’s.

It was almost adorable to hear them rave about their partner.

As a gift for Buddy’s birthday, the Scavengers decided to travel to Earth. Spend a couple days on the planet, let Buddy have a couple dates with their significant other, sight see, the whole works. Everything was going well on their way until Buddy received a text from their significant other.

A text saying they wanted to break things off and promptly blocked Buddy from any form of communication.

Buddy is devastated and now the Scavengers have heard the story too.

Krok

Krok is hugging Buddy as they are sobbing into his armor.

He doesn’t say much at first, he knows he needs Buddy to calm down before anything else can be done.

When he thinks that enough time has passed, he is ready to get Buddy better.

All Scavengers are on deck.

He tries to get Buddy distracted in some of their old hobbies.

When they are playing Shoot-Shoot-Bang-Bang, Krok lets Buddy take a free shot at him. He is worried about Buddy getting better and he is doing the best he can to help them through this hard time.

Krok holding Buddy to his chassis.

“It’s okay Buddy, take your time.”--Krok

Buddy still clinging to Krok’s armor letting the rest of their tears fall.

“Sorry for taking up so much of your time…”--Buddy

“No, I told you was going to be here for you and I’m not going to go down from that promise.”--Krok

Buddy sniffles a bit pressing their face more into his armor.

Krok carefully runs his digits up and down Buddy’s back.

“There, there… there, there…”--Krok

Crankcase

His famous scowl gets deeper.

Crankcase feels for Buddy a lot.

He considers himself lucky seeing how his online relationship ended up working out.

Let’s Buddy have their time to be sad, but after that, he is not going to let them be sad for a sorry excuse of an organic.

The passive aggressive hype bot on board.

He and CONS-4EVA team up to get Buddy back on the dating field after a while.

While playing ‘Shoot-Shoot-Bang-Bang’ he will give Buddy a few more openings than usual, maybe even let them get a free shot at him.

Buddy scrolling through the dating app with Crankcase and CON’s looking at it too.

“What about this one?”--Buddy

“Hmm… red flag. He’s got a fish on his profile picture.”—CONS-4EVA

“All right, how about this one?”--Buddy

“Maybe… no, don’t do that one. She’s got a sketchy background.”--Crankcase

“…This one?”--Buddy

“…Put it in the cart.”--Crankcase

“You can’t do that on this app Crankcase.”--Buddy

Spinister

Spinister suggest shooting the person who made Buddy cry like this.

A bit awkward with the affection, but he is trying.

After a few days of Buddy being sad he’ll go on the internet to see what he can do about Buddy’s heartbreak.

A minor spark attack when he reads that humans can die of heart break.

His fleshy isn’t going to die on his watch.

Has Buddy in constant view and encourages them to seek out the team more.

While playing ‘Shoot-Shoot-Bang-Bang’ nothing changes much in their dynamic… except the few times he will let them have a chance to shoot him

Or maybe throw them at the opponent.

That one nearly gives Krok a spark attack.

Buddy was sitting on the table reading a data pad.

Spinister and Krok were drinking some enegex and talking about the latest hole Grimlock made.

Buddy twitches a bit before sneezing.

Spinister turns his neck so fast Krok is sure that he snapped it.

He jumps over the couch, snatches Buddy up, grabs a blanket and starts wrapping them up into a burrito.

“Spin—”--Buddy

“Shh! No talking.”—Spinister

Spinister starts walking to the med bay.

“Why are we heading to the med bay?”--Buddy

“Check if your organic spark is still online.”--Spinister

“Excuse me, but my what?!”—Buddy

“Their WHAT!?”--Krok

Fulcrum

As much as Fulcrum hates organics, Buddy has grown on him quite a bit.

That being said, he still isn’t completely comfortable with touching.

More words of encouragement kind of mech.

He does have sympathy for Buddy and their heart break.

Probably tells Buddy minor insensitive things about their ex later.

While playing ‘Shoot-Shoot-Bang-Bang’ he’ll offer himself as a shield three times and three times only.

Fulcrum holding a broom and gently petting Buddy from his perch.

“There, there.”--Fulcrum

Buddy looks up a bit strangely at Fulcrum who was on top of the fridge petting them with a broom.

“Everything will be okay eventually.”--Fulcrum

Buddy looks at the dust bunnies floating down on their lap.

At least he’s trying.

Misfire

Another one of the bots holding Buddy as they cry their little heart out.

Tries to make jokes too early on but backs off when he gets a bunch of glares and Buddy starts to cry harder.

Offers to go with Spinister to go shoot the person who broke up with them.

Top hype man for Buddy to get back on their feet.

When playing ‘Shoot-Shoot-Bang-Bang’ defiantly makes an alliance with them and Grimlock.

50 50 on him throwing Buddy in the air.

“Got you now Mis—”--Fulcrum

“SNEAK ATTACK!”--Misfire

Misfire throws Buddy at Fulcrum.

Fulcrum screams and ducks, Krok swan dives and catches Buddy.

“Misfire! What in the name of Cybertron—”--Krok

BANG!

Krok looks at the suction cup stick on his forehelm.

Misfire walks over and grabs Buddy.

“HA! Eat it Krok!”--Misfire

Grimlock

While he can’t communicate too much, Grimlock does keep Buddy close while they are down.

Wants to squish whatever made Buddy this depressed.

He doesn’t want Buddy to feel sad.

He lets Buddy hide with him when things are a bit much.

While playing ‘Shoot-Shoot-Bang-Bang’ Grimlock offers himself as a shield, will growl at anyone who tries to get close to Buddy.

Misfire enters the room.

“Hey Grimmy! Have you seen Buddy around?”--Misfire

Grimlock looks at him before slowly moving his tail.

Buddy fast asleep at his side, snoring and twitching.

“Oh, I’ll come back in a bit. Sweet dreams you two.”--Misfire

Misfire closes the door.

Grimlock wraps his tail around them and continues to sleep to the sound of Buddy snoring.

[wwouldvecouldveshouldve]

confession time!

okay can i tell you how much i adored this request? <33

[ ft. sigma, atsushi, twain, chuuya ]

Sigma... was panicked, to say the least. What if you say no, what if it wasn't perfect like he meant it to be, what if he stumbled over his lines, what if he didn't brush his hair enough this morning (impossible), what if his shirt was ugly (also impossible, he looks gorgeous always)? He's acted this since your first few meetings, but it took some time before the thought came to his mind that he was in love. He didn't even know when or how he could confess! This was an ordeal that, to Sigma, required extraordinary amounts of planning. Every detail had to be perfect, it if wasn't, what if you said no? The thought of confessing, let alone the thought of you, was enough to make his head spin. Sigma hardly even needed a confession, he already trailed after you in his free time like a dog, and always bought you the most expensive things. If that wasn't enough to show how he was head over heels, he went red in the face every other conversation. Needless to say, when he knocks on your door with the cheesiest confession and a bouquet of your favorite flower (no matter how rare), you kiss him.

[ sigma is precious, please cherish him ]

Twain has always been confident. Flirting with you, always acting laid back. Key word: acting. He's had to act calm since the moment he saw the way your eyes shine and he couldn't stop the scarlet from spreading to his cheeks. This man was dying inside. He was not calm, not when you were smiling at him like that. When he finally got the balls to confess, he finally fully buttoned that damns shirt (highly unusual, you were shocked you could make such a thing happen) and shoved his pride up his ass for a minute. He didn't even have it in him to ask someone for advice. He showed off what he could do, and then when you looked to be in enough awe, he tried his best to express his feelings and keep a straight face (no, he did not keep a straight face).

[ you can probably see that i adore bullying this man ]

It was obvious to everyone from the very beginning. He was a young boy who was starting to figure things out in life, and a gorgeous, considerate person like you would obviously attract someone like him. So he followed you around, always offering his aid, time, money, and whatever else you could need. You always made him feel appreciated and seen, what's wrong with returning the favour? Dazai attempted to give him advice on it, but it was really just the entire rest of the agency picking on him. You could see from a mile away how he stuttered, flushed, and stammered when he talked or looked your way. You knew he probably couldn't get the words out of his mouth, so you asked him if you could take a walk on evening and said everything there. He was still speechless, but at least it was said. (He also cried quite a bit, so you tried to buy him ice cream but he finally got the courage to say he'd pay for both of yours <33)

[ you can probably tell by length how much i adore this precious boy ]

Dazai immediately noticed the way Chuuya felt about you. It took a little while for Chuuya to fall for you, however, but once you two were close, it didn't take much for Chuuya to start feeling more than just platonic things. In short, there wasn't one moment when Chuuya realised he loved you, just a piling up of affection. Chuuya tried to show how he felt in any way except for telling you, solely because he believes actions speak more than words. He wouldn't necessarily be stumbling over his sentences, but he'd probably be busy buying you that expensive first edition poetry book (please say you caught that). Chuuya knew that Dazai knew, and whatever "advice" Dazai gave was nothing that Chuuya would actually trust. Chuuya was actually pretty confident he could make you smitten too- he's pulled plenty, trust me. He knocks on your door one night and asks if you'd like to go try out some restaurant (I shouldn't say some restaurant, it's an expensive one that you mentioned wanting to try sometime). He makes the confession on the spot- it's more honest and meaningful that way, he hopes. You accept, and make out later soon after.

AAAA I loved this prompt, I love writing lovestruck and lovesick people. Also Atsushi and Sigma are precious, not in a way that they're clueless or can't handle themselves; they're just perfect. As always, requests are always welcome, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. Have a wonderful day/night! Love you all <33

[allastoredeer]

I just had a hilarious thought I needed to share. After thinking about it, of all the Sins we've met so far, I'd be willing to bet that Alastor would hate Beelzebub the most! For multiple reasons!

First, she's a canid demon, already enough of a reason for Alastor to dislike her.

Second, Alastor has been described by Viv as a food snob, he doesn't like greasy processed food or sweets. And Bee is all about junk food! She sings a whole song about it! She and Alastor would surely bump heads in the kitchen.

Third, Alastor is all about hiding his emotions and being a mystery. A rather difficult task to accomplish when there's someone who can smell/taste emotions around! Alastor wouldn't be able to hide his true feelings about things from Bee! What's worse, Bee has little to no filter. So not only could she sniff out his true emotions, she could just as easily blab about what he's feeling to everyone! Which Alastor certainly wouldn't appreciate.

Forth, of all the Sins we've been introduced to so far, Bee seems the one least willing to take any shit. When Alastor and Lucifer started butting heads, the result was a musical dick measuring contest. When Millie bashed Fizz over the head with a guitar, all Ozzie did was kick her and Moxxie out of his club. When Blitzø roasted Mammon in front of a crowd of his fans, all Mam did was insult him and tell him to shut up.

When Loona started mouthing off to Beelzebub however, Bee went full beast-mode and was ready to throw down! Now, if Alastor (shit-talker extraordinaire with a nasty habit of biting off more than he can chew) were to try and pull the same shit with Bee that he pulled with Lucifer, she absolutely would not hesitate teaching him the definition of "fuck around and find out".

And finally, to add a dash of radioapple into the mix (bc ofc😏🤭) you just know that Beelzebub, aka Miss "Satan's like a brother to me, but I could totally still hit that", would be at least a little flirty towards all her fellow Sins. Including Lucifer. Imagine Bee's visiting Lucifer at the hotel, maybe for a Deadly Sin reunion or maybe she's just visiting by herself. And the whole time she's there, she's just being so affectionate towards Lucifer, picking him up and spinning him around, holding his face in her hands, nuzzling him cheek to cheek or nose to nose, giving him quick pecks on the cheek or forehead, running her hands through his hair, calling him cute nicknames and telling him how adorable he is. Just giving him so much verbal and physical affection that toes the line between flirty and platonic. And Lucifer, knowing that that's just how Bee is, thinks nothing of it. He just laughs it off, no big deal.

Meanwhile, Alastor is off to the side witnessing all this and is just seething.

Imagine she's doing it on purpose too! Like Alastor has already made an ass of himself and she's getting back at him by flirting with his "totally not" crush!

Without a doubt, Alastor would absolutely despise Bee!

Hm, I don't know if Bee's was necessarily about junk-food. Like, yes, she references a lot of junk-food, but I think it really was just a song about indulgence as a whole using sweets as a metaphor. I mean, food--especially junk food--is usually the first thing that comes to mind when someone thinks of gluttony. What I got from her song was just giving in to your desires, going all out, no inhibition.

Although, she does favor cotton-candy as the food she hands out, and Alastor definitely wouldn't eat that XD I love that he's a food snob and a rotten deer carcass counts as a high quality dish to him.

I would LOVE for Bee and Al to meet so she could pick up on his emotions, particularly his negative emotions regarding his deal. I want her to look at his smiling face, his care-free attitude, but sense massive amounts of stress from him. Just a big ball of negative emotions, especially surrounding the deal he's trapped in and how cornered and helpless he feels.

I don't think she would say something in front of everyone. (Making this radioapple ;] ) Like Bee did with Blitz, I think she would go to Lucifer about it, maybe because she knows him the most. She wouldn't go into too much detail, because that's Alastor's business, but she mention that she's sensing a lot of negative emotions from him and to check on him because he is definitely not doing well (I love how caring and sincere Bee is, shes one of my favorite Sins).

And I think if Alastor knows that Bee can sense emotions like that, he would try to avoid her at all costs.

But also, I know you said Bee doesn't put up with shit, but I think Bee would see Alastor's shit-talking as a challenge, also like she did with Blitz, and knowing Alastor, I know he would step up to that challenge (if its a drinking contest--not with Beezle-juice because that's WAY to potent for Sinners), he'll lose, but considering Alastor "drinks like a sailor" he lasts longer than she expects).

I don't know if Alastor would despise her, but I think he'd be intimidated by her ability to pick up on peoples real emotions, and considering how guarded he is about himself, I can see him doing everything in his power to avoid meeting her face to face.