#i really want him to have to be put down by the guardian and then eramis is the one to soothe eido

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Lilia Silver's father telling Eric Venue that "Hey we should found NRC Single Father Alliance, and I can totally share with you my babysitting and cooking tips!!!"

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Single Father Alliance?” Eric lowered his sunglasses. Surprise danced in his glittering violet eyes.

"That's right~" chirped the short man beside him. He kicked his legs playfully, as if he were seated on a playground swing and not a luxurious sofa in the Pomefiore lounge.

Eric crossed his legs and laced his fingers together, setting them on his thighs. He angled his body forward slightly--showing interest, but not full commitment. As a seasoned star, he knew how to wield his clout and charm like weapons.

He brushed a lock of flaxen hair from his forehead, switching roles. The kind, doting dad was stashed away, and out came the business whiz and movie star tycoon.

"... You have my intrigued. Tell me more about your proposal." His tone was friendly, but his words had a hefty weight to them. It was as if each was a brick, laid down one by one to craft a fortress.

"Most parents or guardians come as a pair." Lilia held up two index fingers, making them touch. "There are challenges only we as single fathers experience and understand. Is it not wise, then, for us to band together? There is strength to be found in numbers... and in sharing knowledge."

"Hmm, you make a strong case." Eric stroked his bearded chin. "And you made mention of sharing your babysitting and cooking tips earlier? I take it you are confident in those skills."

"Certainly! I'll have you know that I frequently host my son's childhood friend. I once nursed a bat back to health before releasing it into the night. For a short while, I even tended to a very special egg." Lilia giggled, a proud smile spreading on his lips. "My cooking is second to none! One bite is all it takes to knock you out and send you straight to heaven!"

"Really!" Surprise lit up Eric's famously handsome face. "Your resume sounds about as stacked as the elite nanny I hired for Vil in his childhood."

"My, a nanny?" Lilia's eyes crinkled. "Mmm... I suppose it is a necessity for a man as busy as yourself. But if that's the case, perhaps you won't find much use for my tips."

"Haha, don't be mistaken. I did rely on hired help back then, but I do make time even now to spend with my dear Vil. Movie outings, arts and crafts at home, spa nights..." His gaze softened, and there was a real warmth threading his voice. "After all, he's the apple of my eye--and he always will be."

Lilia clutched at his heart. "... Such a pure, true love. Kufufu, yes, yes, having an honorable man like yourself on the Single Father's Alliance would put my weary old soul at ease. It would reassure me that our future is in safe hands."

"Weary old soul? You barely seem a day over high school age yourself."

Or at least that's what Eric thought. Most of the time when he snuck a glance at this chap, he seemed young. The height, his mannerisms. But his voice and the advice he dispensed with it was deep and worn with wisdom, and sometimes creases and wrinkles appeared where they weren't before.

"I can share my anti-aging secrets with you as well," Lilia offered with a cheeky wink.

"You drive a hard bargain--but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. It's not that you don't make a tempting offer or that I think I'm the perfect father. It's that my Vil's an adult now, and I want to give him that time and space he needs to grow and learn... without me stepping for him. I'll be there for him if he needs it, but Vil's path is his ultimately his own--end of story."

"... What a shame." The fae slowly shook his head. "That's alright though, I accept your decision on account of that moving speech you delivered. That, and I could tell from listening to you speak that you already know what you're doing."

There is nothing left for me to teach you. I know you'll be able to figure things out on your own.

Lilia curled a hand against his chest.

To have a father such as you... Vil is very fortunate indeed.

[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.” In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Eight

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Eight: Rhododendron for Danger

Summary: The Host Club goes to the beach, and (Y/N) and Haruhi have their worst experiences with the club yet.

            “(Y/N), why don’t you come in the water?” said some of the guests as they walked down the beach.

            “Yeah!” said another girl. “Haruhi, you should join us!”

            “Haruhi and I would rather just watch,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Are you sure?” said a guest.

            Haruhi smiled. “Go on and have fun.”

            “You all look so cute in your swimsuits, we don’t want them to go to waste,” said (Y/N).

            The girls blushed before squealing and running to the water. (Y/N) shook their head in amusement, and Haruhi deadpanned about how easy it was to fluster the guests.

            “We were so tricked into this,” said Hikaru. “I didn’t think we’d have customers here.”

            “We should’ve caught on when Kyoya greenlighted the trip,” said Kaoru.

            “Don’t you know him by now?” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Fools of summertime!” said Tamaki, grinning proudly. “This is all according to plan. Why would the general public view my daughter in her bathing suit?”

            “Tamaki, you really do need to stop referring to Haruhi as your daughter,” said (Y/N), leaning back on their arms.

            Tamaki ignored (Y/N) as he sighed dreamily. “In the evening, when everyone else has gone home, I shall walk along the beach with Haruhi, who will wear a fetching white sundress.”

            The twins deadpanned.

            “Summertime fools are one thing,” said Kaoru. “But to be one year round is sad.”

            “So true,” said Hikaru. “Anyway, why are we in Japan instead of the Caribbean?”

            “What is our budget, again?” said (Y/N), frowning.

            “I can assure you we are perfectly within our means,” said Kyoya, barely looking up from his notebook.

            “It must be rich means,” said (Y/N). Who else could get a beach?

            “Are you all having fun?” A spooky voice appeared over Tamaki’s shoulder, and Tamaki screamed. Nekozawa had arrived.

            “We’re at Nekozawa’s private beach,” said the twins, looking at (Y/N) with a shrug.

            “Aha, a discount,” said (Y/N), looking at Kyoya.

            “Precisely,” said Kyoya.

            “Kyoya! We were going to visit your beach!” said Tamaki (he was terrified of Nekozawa).

            “Unfortunately, one of my father’s clients is using it. It was a sudden request, and Haruhi preferred somewhere within the country,” said Kyoya. “She doesn’t have a passport.”

            “Nekogaiwa is a sacred spot for the guardian of the Nekozawa family,” said Nekozawa. He gestured to the strange formation of rocks that looked like a cat (as did everything in his family). “According to legend, anyone who jumps off the rock will never rise again. Nice, huh?”

            Tamaki looked terrified, and the twins just rolled their eyes.

            “There seems to be a courageous challenger,” observed Nekozawa.

            “Haruhi!” shouted Hikaru, Kaoru, and Tamaki.

            “Oh, dear, those are jagged rocks,” said (Y/N), frowning.

            The three men were already running to get her down before she hurt herself, though, so they didn’t have to move.

            “(Y/N), you should come seashell hunting!” said Honey, running up to them excitedly.

            (Y/N) smiled. “Sure, Honey.”

            “But, senpai, it’s not the right season or tide—” whispered Haruhi.

            (Y/N) pointed at the police squad putting out sea urchins, shells, and clams while Honey happily picked them up. “They’re apologizing to him.”

            Haruhi deadpanned. Rich people…

            “Come on, (Y/N)! Come on, Haru!” said Honey.

            (Y/N) and Haruhi smiled and headed over to help Honey.

            “So cute,” said Tamaki, watching the three collect shells with stars in his eyes. “Right, Kyoya?!”

            Kyoya looked up from his notebook to watch (Y/N) pick up a shell and hum pleasantly as they listened to the sound of the ocean within. “Mm.” He hummed noncommittedly.

            “Here, Haruhi,” said Kaoru. “It’s a huge scallop. Do you like scallops?”

            “I like it.” Haruhi smiled. “Thanks, Kaoru.”

            “Haruhi, a turban shell!” said Tamaki, trying to get a cute reaction. “Do you like them?”

            “Look here, a blue mussel! Do you like them?” said Hikaru.

            “Haru, a clam!” said Honey happily.

            “Octopus,” said Mori.

            “Enough already!” shouted Haruhi as she was crowded.

            “Here’s abalone,” said Kyoya, holding a smooth, iridescent shell out to (Y/N).

            “Very pretty,” said (Y/N), smiling. They reached out and glanced at him. “May I?”

            Kyoya dropped it into their palm, and he watched them put it in their bag at their towel. He stood a tiny bit straighter.

            “Look, Haruhi, a giant crab!” Tamaki was still trying to impress Haruhi. “Do you like crabs?”

            “Eee!” The guests screamed as a millipede crawled out of the crab. “Gross! A bug!”

            “Where’d that come from?” said Haruhi, picking up the bug. Calmly, she tossed it back into the bushes.

            “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’re a kind of girl who likes bugs…” said Kaoru.

            “I don’t like them,” said Haruhi.

            “Who was going to help? You two?” said (Y/N).

            “But couldn’t you at least let it go on the grass or something?” said Hikaru.

            “It’s a fine. A fall won’t kill it. And I threw it to the grass,” said Haruhi, shrugging.

            “Haruhi, you’re so manly!” said the girls, hearts floating around them.

            “It’s alright, girls,” said Haruhi to them.

            The twins huffed. They had been looking forward to Tamaki’s antics “protecting” Haruhi. It seemed she wasn’t afraid of anything. A lightbulb went off above their heads, and (Y/N) sighed. That couldn’t be good.

            “Hey, Boss, we thought of a game.” The twins leaned towards him with identical smirks. “It’s called, ‘Who can find Haruhi’s weakness?’ ”

            “An evil-minded game!” said Tamaki.

            “You two need to work on boundaries,” sighed (Y/N).

            “I’m sorry. Do you two not have the confidence to play? You’d have to be pretty close to her to find out her weakness, huh?” said Hikaru and Kaoru, easily goading the pair.

            “Still no,” said (Y/N).

            “The rules?” Tamaki fell for the trap.

            “The deadline is tomorrow at sunset,” said the twins with smirks. “Whoever finds her weakness first wins.”

            “And? What’s in it for the winner?” said Tamaki.

            “Assorted photos of Haruhi’s middle school days,” said Kyoya, holding up a packet.

            Kaoru, Hikaru, and Tamaki were extremely invested and ran off to make plans. Honey saw them and excitedly chased after them, Mori not far behind.

            (Y/N) leaned on the back of Kyoya’s beach chair and raised a brow. “How do you have those? No, more importantly, why do you have those?”

            “It’s quite easy to get them to leave me alone with some incentive,” said Kyoya with his closed-eye smile, very signature Kyoya but oh-so evil at the same time.

            “Poor Haruhi, getting pulled into your plans,” said (Y/N), shaking their head.

            “Would you rather I used your middle school pictures?” said Kyoya.

            “I doubt Tamaki would get excited over those,” said (Y/N). Thankfully. No one needed to see any middle-school phases of theirs. (Hey, experimentation in fashion is valid. It’s also embarrassing). They paused. “Do you really have those?”

            Kyoya smirked. “Do you want to find out?”

            “Nope,” said (Y/N) easily, smiling. “I’d rather not.”

            “Pity. I’m waiting for a chance to use them,” said Kyoya.

            “I can’t tell if you’re teasing me or not,” said (Y/N), looking down at him.

            “Do I tease?” said Kyoya, raising a brow.

            “Absolutely,” said (Y/N), grinning.

            “Then perhaps I am,” said Kyoya with a light smirk.

            (Y/N) chuckled.

            “(Y/N)!” said a guest, smiling. “Will you come with us up onto the cliffs?”

            “We wanted a view of the sunset,” said a second girl. “It will be so romantic!”

            “Of course I’ll come,” said (Y/N). “I’m sure it will be beautiful. And I can take some photos for you all if you’d like.” Plenty of the guests were active on social media and would love the opportunity.

            “You’re so sweet!” squealed the two.

            “Bye, Kyoya,” said (Y/N), turning away to walk up the rocks with the girls. It wasn’t a tough hike, luckily, just a few minutes’ walk, but (Y/N) was a gentleman, so they helped the guests up the rocks all the same.

            “Thank you, (Y/N),” chorused the pair, blushing as (Y/N) held their hand to guide them.

            “Wow, it’s so beautiful,” said one of the guests, sighing as she looked out at the sunset.

            “Imagine having a date here,” said the other girl.

            “With Nekozawa? I’d be scared…”

            “He’s letting us use his beach. It’s very nice of him,” reminded (Y/N). “Who knows? Maybe he’s a gentleman with a penchant for magic.” They winked playfully, and the girls squealed. “Now, who wants pictures?”

            “Are you sure we look good?” said a girl nervously.

            “You’re always beautiful,” said (Y/N), smiling and taking one of the guest’s phone to take photo of the group together. They smiled shyly, and (Y/N) snapped the pictures from several angles while the girls blushed. “There.” They handed the phone back

            “Thank you!” said the girls.

            “Hey, look what we found.”

            (Y/N) bristled and turned, eyes narrowed. Three boys were walking up the rocks—trespassers on the beach. The two guests’ eyes widened, and (Y/N) moved in front of them.

            “Wow, it’s a party,” said one boy, grinning widely.

            “With only pretty girls, too,” said the second. “You must be bored.”

            The third leered. “Well, not all girls. But still pretty.”

            “Leave,” said (Y/N), standing in front of the girls. “This is a private beach.” The way the boys were looking at them and the girls sent a disgusted shiver down their spine, but (Y/N) had to remain firm and strong in front of the boys.

            “Ooh, rich kids, huh?” One of the boys stepped forward and tried to grab a girl’s wrist. She stepped back, and (Y/N) stepped towards him to get him to back off.

            “Oh, come on, we can have some fun,” simpered the second, reaching for (Y/N).

            “Not a chance,” said (Y/N), slapping his arm away.

            “You little—Ow!” He jumped back with his friends as spiky urchins hit his shirt.

            Haruhi stood, stone-faced, behind them with an empty bucket of shells and urchins. “Leave them alone, please. They don’t want to spend time with you. You’re a nuisance.”

            “You brat,” said one of the boys, reaching for her.

            Instantly, (Y/N) grabbed his arm and twisted, putting it into a lock. He squawked angrily as (Y/N) pulled his wrist back and braced his elbow, pushing one and pushing the other uncomfortably.

            “Go and get the other hosts,” said (Y/N) as the girls’ eyes widened. Instantly, they nodded and ran, and Haruhi moved to help (Y/N), but another boy grabbed her. “Hey!” (Y/N) threw the boy they were holding down and moved to help Haruhi as she struggled.

            The third boy grabbed (Y/N), and they twisted, slamming their heel into the top of his foot. He let out an angry yell, and his grip on their arms tightened as his friend got up and slapped their face.

            “(Y/N)!” said Haruhi, eyes wide.

l

            “Tamaki!” The two girls ran back to the towels with wide eyes. “Haruhi and (Y/N) are in trouble!”

            Tamaki’s eyes widened, and he, Kaoru, and Hikaru jumped up. Honey’s sunny smile turned sour, and Mori’s eyes narrowed. Kyoya’s grip on his notebook tightened, and he threw it down as he followed the rest of the hosts up the cliffs.

l

            “You rich kids, thinking you can push us around,” sneered the boy, glaring at (Y/N) again. “Where do you get off ordering us around?”

            “Where do you get off thinking you can treat women like that?” shot back (Y/N).

            “Why, you—We’ll teach you a lesson!” The boy grabbed them roughly and wrenched them from the other’s grasp.

            “Wait!” Haruhi’s eyes widened, and she pulled against the third boy.

            The boy pushed (Y/N) from the cliff, and their eyes widened. The wind rushed past them, and they hit the water with a splash. Their mouth opened in shock, and water flood them. They coughed and floundered, sinking farther as the shock of hitting the waves settled in. Their vision blurred as seawater stung it. The last thing they saw was a figuring with dark hair diving in after them.

l

            Kyoya had reached the top of the cliffs a moment too late. He saw (Y/N) falling from the rocks, watched their eyes widen in fear, and immediately ran forward. He was tempted to hit the boy who had pushed (Y/N)—when had he become tempted to violence for another person—but his concern was for them.

            Kyoya threw his glasses to Tamaki and dove over the rocks. He landed in the water with much more elegance than (Y/N) and swam downward to them. His hand closed around his wrist, and he pulled them to him. Thankfully, their eyes fluttered as they broke the surface, and they coughed up the water they’d swallowed. With powerful strokes, Kyoya supported (Y/N) and swam them to the shore. As the water got shallow enough, he tucked a hand under their knees and picked them up bridal-style.

            (Y/N) coughed up seawater, and they groaned as their head lolled and leaned against Kyoya’s chest.

            “(Y/N)!”

            “Oh my god! Kyoya, (Y/N)!”

            (Y/N)’s eyes blinked as they heard Haruhi calling for them and the sound of the guest’s concern. Their eyes opened fully, and they looked up at Kyoya’s face. Their heart stuttered. He had come to save them? Kyoya had cared?

            Oh. Oh. Oh, no. They liked that. They liked…him. Oh, no.

            “(Y/N), are you alright?” said Haruhi, looking at (Y/N) in Kyoya’s arms.

            Their panicking thoughts were broken by Haruhi’s words, and they looked at her. “Oh. Yes. I am.”

            Haruhi breathed out a sigh of relief as Kyoya put (Y/N) down but kept an arm around their middle to steady them. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t more help, senpai.”

            “You were plenty of help,” said (Y/N). “It was three versus two.”

            “Hikaru, Kaoru, arrange for the guests to go back to the hotel,” said Kyoya, his hand remaining firmly around (Y/N). “Tamaki—”

            “We got their IDs. Nekozawa got the police and is taking care of them,” said Tamaki, nodding.

            “Good.” Kyoya’s grip relaxed slightly. “Honey, have Nekozawa call a doctor—”

            “I’m fine,” said (Y/N), reaching up and touching his shoulder gently.

            “You’re fine?” Tamaki’s eyes narrowed as he looked at (Y/N) and Haruhi. “Are you a martial artist? Do you have diving experience?”

            “I know some self-defense. And I was startled,” said (Y/N) firmly.

            “No, you were unprepared to fight three men,” said Tamaki.

            “They did a great job. They helped the guests get away!” said Haruhi.

            “You don’t get to talk, either,” said Tamaki, whirling on her. “You didn’t call us, even though we were right there! You and (Y/N) don’t have the strength to fight them!”

            “There’s no time to think when we’re on the spot,” said Haruhi.

            “Well, think a little, idiot!” said Tamaki.

            Haruhi’s eyes widened, and she glared. “We’re sorry for troubling you guys, but I don’t see why we should be scolded for anything! (Y/N) and I did nothing wrong!”

            “Is that so?” said Tamaki angrily. “Fine! Do whatever you want! I won’t speak to you until you admit your mistake!” However, it only took a few paces away until he looked back at Haruhi.

            Everyone looked at Haruhi.

            “I don’t want to talk to him,” she said. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “We didn’t.” They turned away from Tamaki and looked at Mori and Honey. “Hand me a towel. I’m heading back to the house.” Tamaki and his opinions of their strength could go to hell for all they cared.

            Kyoya’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly as (Y/N) walked towards the mansion. They didn’t care for their safety at all.

Taglist:

@roo024

@jmclouds

@yappydoo

@ramblingsoftheill

@girgal73

@rockerica

@nosoyyo1213

@ritzes28

@grippledee-galaxy

@rory-cakes

@neenieweenie

@k03ume

@constellationguy

@paastaboi

@introvertathome

[strayheartless]

Zakkura Headcanons: HOLIDAY EDITION

Cloud is not all that festive a person. He’s not a grinch (well, no he kinda is by definition) but he doesn’t really get “ready” for Yule like everyone else. He doesn’t decorate; you couldn’t pay him to wear a holidays sweater; he stopped believing in Santa at age four; and he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to buy people gifts. Mostly because he’s never had friends to buy for, but he’s convinced himself it’s because he believes it’s stupid.

Zack. Loves. Yule. It’s his favourite holiday ever because of course it is! How can you not love Yule?! He loved “helping” his mom with baking and getting under his dad fee- I mean helping his dad decorate. Gift buying is the only thing he’s ever prepared for because he basically spends all year thinking about what to get people he likes.

Imagine Zack’s horror when he realises his best friend and crush isn’t bothered by the sights and smells of holiday cheer…

He immediately determines himself to making Cloud enjoy Yule. He’s a little neurotic about it actually -not that he lets Cloud know that, because Clouds suppose to be having fun FuN FUN! Angeal and Kunzel are both subjected to Zack’s ranting and frantic Christmas prep as he tries his absolute best to make sure Cloud has a good experience.

He invites Cloud around to Bake; drags him out in the cold to pick a tree; buys him festive drinks; drags him out AGAIN to Yule markets. Cloud for the most part silently puts up with it all, and even more privately enjoys the attention Zack gives him as the taller man tugs Clouds scarf up to cover his nose, holding his hands to warm them up.

Zack buys Cloud festive PJ’s for yules eve and basically wrestles him into them before making him park his butt on the couch to drink hot chocolate and cud- watch movies.

If Cloud falls asleep because he feels warm and safe then that’s a happy coincidence. If Zack takes advantage of his sleeping in order to tuck him into bed while Zack does some last minute wrapping and stocking stuffing then that is his business.

Cloud does have some traditions during the holidays. Namely on the actual day he will call his mom and ask if she got her present. He will stay on the phone for a while as he makes his lunch and assure her he’s fine. Yes he’s eating enough, no he doesn’t have plans today, no he’s not being bullied, yes he’s sure. It’s the same most years.

This year however when he calls her she is delighted to know that he’s spending the day with Zack. She chats animatedly with Zack about their family traditions and gushes over this “older boy looking after my baby”.

Zack keeps glancing giddily at Cloud who’s got a… hell, it’s a really fond look on his face. Clouds mom likes him! Clouds mom promised to send him mittens!

Zack wants to tell Cloud how he feels but He’s too busy making sure Cloud has a good day. Calling his own parents has Zack standing in the kitchen with a turkey baster having a mini panic attack while his mother over explains cooking times and stuffing. Then, like a guardian angel, Cloud takes the baster from him and preps the turkey like it’s something he always does.

Zack is struck with the domesticity of it all and desperately wants to blurt out “I’m so in love with you” but he doesn’t.

He had plans to tell him he swears. He’d boobie trapped the entire apartment with mistletoe and everything, but he’s so preoccupied with trying to make Cloud happy that he kind of puts it’s on the back burner.

Cloud however, beats him to it. It’s at the end of the night, when they are warm and full and cozy. They’d been playing chocobo racer, pushing at each other teasingly trying to put the other off, and then Zack had shoved Cloud a tiny bit harder than he ment too. Cloud -never one to go down without a hell of a fight- pulls Zack with him as he goes down.

They kind of just lay there for a second on their sides, Zack having rolled so he didn’t Crush his crush. And then Cloud gently leans in to Kiss Zack softly whispering a heartfelt “thank you” against his lips. Zack doesn’t have to ask what for, he knows he means the day, but he wants another kiss so he rolls Cloud on top of him, locks his arms around the smaller, and steals a couple more.

“Hey so will you be my boyfriend for Yule?”

“Just for Yule?”

“Or forever, Forever works for me if it works for you”

“Yeah that works for me…”

“Hey Cloud?”

“Mmhm?”

“I’m kinda stupidly in love with you.”

Cloud goes an adorable shade of red as he mumbles “me too” into Zack’s chest.

[ilikekidsshows]

These are really good additions. For all Marinette complains about how her Ladybug/Guardian responsibilities cut into her time as Marinette, she sure isn't making any moves towards making it so that a Ladybug wouldn't be needed. All her efforts go into stopping the Akuma of the day or some other pointless project that won't actually bring her any closer to catching Hawk Moth. She'll jump at the chance to let Tikki replace her as Ladybug, but she won't make having a Ladybug unnecessary or find a permanent replacement herself. Basically, Marinette wants to stop being a Ladybug, but only when doing so would require her to do nothing.

This makes it seem like the only reason Marinette hasn't already quit is that her motivation to quit is even weaker than her motivation to be a hero. Although, Marinette has had this tendency where she complains about things she could change but then makes no effort to change for a long time in the show. She didn't like Fu sidelining Cat Noir but only made the weakest attempts possible to persuade Fu to talk to him after Cat Noir brought the situation up. Even after Fu stops telling her to keep Cat Noir in the dark about everything, when she's crying about how hard it is to be alone for the couple of weeks after Fu lost his memories, she still won't just talk to Cat Noir. Her telling Alya was an accident, done in the midst of another emotional breakdown. Marinette always had the option to reach out to others and, even when the outside pressure to not do so was removed, she still wouldn't do it by choice.

Marinette complains about things she has the power to change, but then does nothing to change them. This has been going on since even before the retool, and the post-retool Marinette views herself as being completely incapable of changing her circumstances even when she's the one with all the authority and power. Even when she knows how she could change things, she won't do it, because Astruc confirmed in the finale commentary that Marinette understood from Félix's message at least the part about Gabriel being Hawk Moth, and then she acted like she didn't know so that the finale could have a standalone "realization" moment (because they're still writing Miraculous as an episodic show).

However, that just means that, even after she found out the truth, she had no intention of acting on the knowledge that Gabriel was Hawk Moth until he jumped her when she was breaking in to find out information about Adrien. Marinette was going to let Gabriel keep being Hawk Moth at least for the time being, because stopping him would have been too much effort, I guess. Even if you go with the interpretation that Marinette didn't fully understand Félix's message, Astruc confirmed that she at least suspected Gabriel before she went into the mansion, and yet she didn't do anything with her suspicions because that would have required her to put effort and thinking into her heroics instead of just reacting to what was going on directly in front of her.

Basically, Marinette will rarely do anything more than solve an immediate situation. She would rather keep having easy-to-win Akuma fights that cut into her private life that she'll then constantly complain about than make a proper plan to track down and stop the source of the Akumas. Because of this laziness, she was completely unprepared to do anything to actually stop him when Hawk Moth decided they'd have their final confrontation now. All the power, allies and knowledge at her disposal went to waste and she fumbled her way into the world getting destroyed.

Like, when the protagonist has this much knowledge, authority and power and goes this far in not taking advantage of it, all the while complaining about rough she has it, you really gotta start wondering at what point her problems start being self-caused. Sure, Gabriel is responsible for his own actions, but 'Origins' had this quote be an inspiration to Marinette: "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil, is that good people do nothing!" and in the finale, she proves it correct in the worst possible way. Marinette, indeed, did nothing, and Gabriel triumphed. The writers can claim that "Gabriel laid down his arms so Marinette won" all they like, but that symbolic victory is nothing against Gabriel's literal victory of gaining ultimate reality-bending power and getting to reshape the world however he wishes. Once again, the Miraculous writers had something happen that's the exact opposite of what they meant to represent.

I've seen people said Adrien doesn't have motivation to be a hero but Marinette does, which is weird because I feel like it's Marinette who doesn't have a motivation to be hero beyond "people listen to Ladybug". Her lack of motivation is what confused me because as a protagonist, she's inevitably become a role model for the young audience and I find nothing about her is likeable, even more so after she become a guardian. It's as if being a guardian inflate her ego and she forgot that everyone else is a human with feelings, not just a pawn or a doll for her to play and ordered around.

Recently I found out a website that contain the concept plot and it confused me more because I feel like concept Marinette is a more grounded character than she is in the show.

Marinette's goal isn't just to be Adrien/Felix's girlfriend but she also need to collect the kwamis that she accidentally releases and she become a guardian not because of luck or favoritism like how it is in the show, it's because her grandfather is the guardian. Adrien/Felix doesn't even become Chat Noir because he's chosen by the guardian, it's Plagg who chose him. It's actually much better than the whole "I choose you but also I'm not going to do anything with you" that Fu pulls in the show.

i don't understand why the higher up/the sponsor reject this plot because I think this much better than whatever we have now. If they have a problem with Chat Noir being an anti-hero, then why do they accept Marinette being written like one while also hailing her as a hero?

---

“Adrien isn't motivated to be a hero” he actually likes being a hero, unlike our role model protagonist, who’d rather do anything than be Ladybug even when she's being lauded for her heroic deeds. Is this based on Adrien trying to quit when Fu or Marinette is making his job needlessly more difficult to do? Because, like, that's the only thing that he seems to dislike about being a hero, which, like, makes Marinette an even worse hero. She’s so bad at her job, she makes otherwise eager heroes lose their motivation.

I’m gonna be very honest here; Marinette becoming Ladybug because she accidentally released a bunch of magical creatures and Adrien/Félix being more of an anti-hero rival than a full-on ally would have been copied straight from Cardcaptor Sakura’s starting setup. Like, I’m not surprised that even the rejected ideas for Miraculous are copied from other properties, but it just proves that regardless of any other variables, Astruc’s creation was always going to be highly derivative. Regardless, I do feel that Fu being her grandfather instead of a stranger would have gone a long way in justifying Marinette’s special treatment both in-universe and to the audience, but that’s probably why it was rejected.

Like, we can mock the fact that Marinette isn’t actually within spitting distance of being a “normal girl with a normal life” all we like, but that doesn’t change the fact that, from a purely on-paper angle, she is pretty average. She’s a middle-schooler with pretty average hobbies who deals with normal teen problems like bullies and a crush on a boy she doesn’t know how to deal with. There’s a reason it’s the opening line for the show’s opening. It's marketable. A special chosen one from the start wouldn’t have been as marketable in the same way. Especially when we take into account how hypersensitive Astruc is to Marinette being less liked than he’d want. He’d do whatever he can think of to make sure Marinette isn’t immediately judged a “Mary Sue”.

The thing with executives is that they don't watch the shows they fund. They read the pitch, synopses, and maybe the scripts if they can find the time. And even then, they might not want to put in the money to get a script revised even if they paid enough attention to tell it was dogshit. They wouldn't be interested as long as the different Miraculous bedsheets and shampoos keep selling and as long as the show isn’t too gay to sell to other countries. Like, the show bible that Gloob leaked? The one full of inaccuracies because it was outdated? That was what the executives were most likely given when the retool went into development. In addition, corporate oversight on the show has actually decreased the longer it’s gone on, because the show’s proven itself to be a success. I’m pretty sure the higher-ups were not asked: “hey, is it okay if we make Marinette an entitled jerk who gets validated at every turn while she starts treating people worse and worse?” I’m pretty sure no one okayed Marinette’s “villain arc”, it was just allowed to pass because it didn’t make the show less marketable.

That’s the thing with any property that becomes “too big to fail”. Less oversight means less quality control. It’s like one anonymous Gamefreak employee said about making Pokémon games: “It’ll sell anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s bad.”

[ahamkara-apologist]

>looks at the poor state of misraaks's health

>looks at the title of the exotic mission for this season

>looks at how bungie is building on a relationship between eido and eramis, aka the only adult eliksni other than misraaks in our current cast of characters who has extensive parental experience

[sammydem0n64]

Been rethinking the “Toffa is adopted by Pearo, Chazel and Dolat” lore if only bc. Y’know Pearo is meant to be the main parent but he’s an unemployed 25 year old whose only stable living situation is crashing on his older brother’s couch. Dolat is always traveling due to work as well so he won’t be rather active either. And Chazel is the most stable here largely no complaints actually. BUT there’s also the fact Toffa is in a VERY dangerous situation (her parents are gang members who forced her into their ranks at a young age, the longer she stays with them rhe more likely it is she’ll end up gravely injured or worse) and none of them are. Really equipped to handle that. At all? Pearo’s family is in the mafia yeah but the other two are completely defenseless 😭 they’re just some guys being thrown into the horrors out of nowhere because some teenage girl decided to latch onto their boyfriend out of spite . Much more interesting to dissect this tbh

[pucksandpower]

Malfunction

Franco Colapinto x physician!Reader

Summary: Franco’s concussion has come and gone, but his desire to see the angel of a physician who likely saved his life has only gotten stronger … it’s just a shame that he tends to lose any semblance of composure when you’re around

Note: this is the much requested second part to Malpractice … but even better than the first part if I do say so myself 🫣

The Las Vegas Grand Prix is a distant blur in Franco’s memory. The crash. The pain. The disorientation.

But there’s something else that lingers, too. Something soft that refuses to leave him alone.

It’s the image of you, kneeling in front of him, your hands steady even as his world spun. Your voice cutting through the haze, your gaze sharp and intense, demanding his attention. The way you pushed him to stay alert, to pay attention, to focus on something other than the chaos in his head.

Franco knows he owes his sanity, maybe even his life, to you.

It’s been a week since the crash, and he’s been cleared by the medical team to race again in Qatar, despite a lingering headache that’s been stubbornly hanging on. But it’s not the headache that’s bothering him. It’s the fact that you’re not here. You’re not at the track. Not in the garage. Not hovering over him like some kind of guardian angel.

He wants to see you again. Needs to.

He’s sitting in the Williams debrief room, surrounded by engineers who are talking a mile a minute about tire wear and lap times. But Franco is barely listening. He keeps checking his phone, hoping for some sort of miracle: a text, a call, anything that might tell him you’re here. That you’ve returned to the paddock.

But the screen stays empty.

“Franco, are you with us?” James Vowles’ voice cuts through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry,” Franco mutters, rubbing his eyes. “What were you saying about tire strategy?”

James raises an eyebrow. “It’s fine. Focus on your recovery. We’re just going over the data from today’s practice. You’ve got time. But-” He looks around, making sure no one else is listening, “-don’t be distracted during qualifying tomorrow. We need every bit of performance we can get from you this weekend.”

“Right.” Franco nods, but his mind drifts again, his gaze slipping back to his phone. It’s like the rhythm of the weekend has been broken without you here, without the sharpness of your voice telling him he’s being an idiot, without your soft, steady presence making everything feel a little more manageable.

A soft knock sounds at the door, and Alex steps in, his casual smile immediately making the room feel a little lighter. His eyes flicker over to Franco. “How’s it going, mate?”

Franco immediately perks up. “Alex! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He straightens up in his chair, suddenly interested in the conversation.

Alex raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that because you’ve missed me, or because I bring good news?”

“Both,” Franco grins. “But seriously, I’ve been thinking about something, and I need your help.”

Alex folds his arms, giving Franco a knowing look. “Uh oh. What have you gotten yourself into now?”

“It’s about Y/N,” Franco says, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t seem too surprised. He sighs, already knowing where this is headed. “Ah, I should’ve known.”

“No, listen,” Franco presses, his voice a little more serious. “I need her to come to Abu Dhabi. She has to be there. I-” He pauses, trying to put his feelings into words. “I’ve been thinking about her all week. I just … I need to see her again.”

Alex raises both hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. You want me to convince her to come to a race just so you can see her again?”

Franco shrugs, looking entirely unapologetic. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Alex shakes his head, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “You really have it bad, don’t you?”

Franco hesitates, his smile faltering just slightly, then nods. “I do.” His expression softens. “She helped me when I didn’t even know what was happening. I’ve never had someone take care of me like that.”

Alex takes a moment, studying Franco’s face, then lets out a long breath. “Look, I can’t make any promises. Y/N’s a resident physician. Her schedule is insane. She barely has time to breathe, let alone fly out to the Middle East for a race. But-” He hesitates, as if weighing his next words carefully. “But I’ll ask her. I’ll see what I can do. But no promises, okay?”

“Just ask,” Franco says urgently. “I don’t care if it’s a long shot. I need her there.”

Alex chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll ask. But you owe me a beer if this works.”

“You got it,” Franco grins, already feeling the relief of having put his request into motion. “Thanks.”

***

It’s late by the time you’re wrapping up your shift at the hospital. The weight of your scrubs feels heavier than usual tonight, your body aching after hours of rounds and consultations. You’ve barely slept all week, the demands of your residency taking up every last ounce of energy. All you want to do now is crash into bed and forget about the world for a few hours.

But then your phone buzzes in your pocket, and the familiar name on the screen makes you stop in your tracks.

Alex.

You sigh, glancing around the empty hallway before answering. “Hey, Alex. What’s up?”

“Hey,” Alex greets you, his tone casual but there’s a hint of something else in his voice. “How’s it going?”

You roll your eyes, leaning against the wall. “You know, same old. Patients, paperwork, more patients. I swear, I’m starting to see people’s illnesses in my dreams at this point. What’s up?”

“Well, funny you should mention that,” Alex says with a chuckle, “because I’ve got a bit of a favor to ask.”

You brace yourself. “What now?”

“I need you to come to Abu Dhabi.”

There’s a beat of silence. “What? No. I can’t just drop everything and fly to Abu Dhabi. You know how insane my schedule is right now.”

“I know, I know,” Alex says quickly. “But listen, it’s not for me. It’s for Franco.”

You blink, unsure if you heard him right. “Franco? What does he have to do with this?”

“He, uh, well, he’s been asking about you. He really wants you to come. He … he kind of needs you there, Y/N.”

You frown. “Needs me? What, like for a medical emergency?”

“No, no,” Alex quickly reassures you. “It’s not like that. He’s just — he’s been a bit, you know, off since the crash. He keeps talking about how much you helped him, how much he needs to see you again. He’s … kinda, well, taken with you.”

You pause, processing the unexpected request. “Wait. You want me to go to Abu Dhabi just to … see Franco?”

Alex sighs. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I totally get it if you can’t make it. I just thought I’d put it out there, because he’s really … well, he’s really worried about seeing you again.”

You take a deep breath, staring at the floor. There’s a tug at your chest. Franco’s crash. The way he looked when he stumbled into the garage, his eyes unfocused, his voice thick with concussion. And how you couldn’t help but care, couldn’t help but feel something stir in your chest as you took care of him.

“I don’t know,” you say softly. “I don’t know if I can get time off. I’ve got a million things to do.”

“Please,” Alex pleads, his tone sincere. “Just think about it. I’ll take care of the rest. You don’t have to worry about anything. Just — just come for the weekend. For him.”

You hesitate for a long moment. Your exhaustion is overwhelming, but so is the pull to be there for Franco, to check in on him after everything that happened.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Alex lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to him.”

“I’ll talk to my supervisor tomorrow and see if I can get a couple of days off. I’ll let you know.”

“Great. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks again, really.”

As the call ends, you press the phone to your ear, staring at the blank hospital hallway. Something in your chest stirs, a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite name. You promised yourself you wouldn’t get involved with any of these drivers. But Franco … there’s something about him. Something you can’t shake.

You don’t know what’s going to happen in Abu Dhabi. But you know one thing for sure: you’re going to see him again.

***

Franco is buzzing with energy as he walks away from the Williams garage after FP2. The track is alive with its usual Friday hum: team radios squawking, mechanics wheeling equipment, fans pressing against barricades for a glimpse of the action. Normally, this is his favorite part of the weekend — the calm between sessions when he can breathe and think through what’s next.

But today, his thoughts are miles away.

You.

Alex told him you’d agreed to come. He’s spent all week mentally preparing for this moment, imagining what he’ll say when he sees you again. He’d told himself he’d play it cool. That he wouldn’t come off as desperate or weird. That he’d be charming and effortless.

And now, as he walks toward the Williams motorhome, he’s running through those lines in his head like a script. But then, through the glass doors of the motorhome, he spots you.

You’re sitting at a table with Lily, wine glasses between you. You’re mid-laugh, one hand lightly gesturing, the other wrapped around the stem of your glass. The sound of your laugh doesn’t reach him, but your expression — warm and animated — is enough to stop him in his tracks.

Franco stares, frozen. For a second, he’s not a professional driver or a smooth-talking twenty-one-year-old. He’s just a guy, floored by the sight of someone he’s been thinking about far too much.

And then, because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, he walks straight into the glass door.

The sound is embarrassingly loud — a deep, resonant thud that draws the attention of a couple of mechanics nearby. Franco stumbles back, clutching his forehead as the door wobbles slightly on its hinges.

“Oh, come on,” he mutters under his breath, blinking rapidly to clear the stars dancing in his vision.

Inside, Lily gasps, already half out of her chair. But you — you just press a hand to your mouth, visibly trying to suppress a laugh.

Franco pushes the door open this time (successfully, thank God) and steps into the motorhome, trying to salvage whatever remains of his dignity.

“Didn’t know the motorhome was defending itself today,” he says, flashing a crooked grin as he rubs his forehead.

You’re still smiling, but there’s a glint in your eyes as you take a sip of wine. “I see you’re still finding creative ways to injure yourself.”

Lily, standing now, gives him a once-over. “Are you okay? That sounded bad.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Franco says quickly, though he’s still holding his head. “Just testing the structural integrity of the door. Very solid. Great engineering.”

Lily rolls her eyes, muttering something about grabbing an ice pack before disappearing into the kitchen.

You lean back in your chair, tilting your head as you look at him. “You know, you really don’t have to keep hurting yourself just to get my attention. There are easier ways.”

Franco blinks, momentarily thrown off by the teasing edge in your voice. But then he recovers, his grin widening. “Oh, so you noticed me, huh? Mission accomplished.”

You arch an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Hard not to notice when someone face-plants into a door.”

“Ouch,” Franco says, clutching his chest dramatically. “First my head, now my ego. You’re ruthless.”

You laugh, setting your glass down. “I’m a doctor. I call it like I see it.”

“And what do you see?” He asks, leaning casually against the doorframe (or at least trying to — he slightly misjudges the angle and has to correct himself, which makes him look anything but casual).

“I see someone who might need another concussion test if they keep this up,” you say dryly, though there’s a hint of amusement in your tone.

Franco seizes the opening. “Oh, you’ll give me a test? What, right here? Should I sit down? Or maybe lie down? Whatever you need, angel, I’m ready.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch. “I’m off-duty, thank you very much. And stop calling me angel.”

“Why? It suits you,” Franco says without missing a beat. He steps closer, his grin turning just a bit sheepish. “You did save me, after all.”

“From driving with a concussion,” you reply, crossing your arms.

“Still counts,” he says, shrugging. “So … you’re really here. Thought maybe Alex was messing with me.”

You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, for fun? He likes to mess with me,” Franco says, his grin turning rueful. “But I’m glad he wasn’t. It’s … it’s good to see you.”

Your expression softens, and you glance down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “It’s good to see you too.”

For a moment, there’s a silence between you. Not awkward, but charged. Franco shifts his weight, scratching the back of his neck. He’s been preparing for this moment all week, but now that you’re standing in front of him, he’s at a loss.

Lily reappears then, an ice pack in hand. She tosses it to Franco, who catches it against his chest. “Here,” she says. “For the door-shaped bruise you’re probably going to have.”

“Thanks,” Franco says, pressing the pack to his forehead. He winces slightly but keeps his gaze on you.

Lily looks between the two of you, her lips twitching as if she’s trying not to laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you two to … whatever this is,” she says, grabbing her glass and retreating toward the other end of the motorhome.

Franco watches her go, then looks back at you, his smile softening. “So … you’re here for the whole weekend?”

You nod. “Lily convinced me to stay. Said I needed a break.”

“You do,” Franco says quickly. “Definitely. Big time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because …” Franco hesitates, then decides to go for it. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since Vegas.”

You blink, caught off guard by his honesty. “Franco-”

“I’m serious,” he interrupts, stepping closer. “I know I’m probably coming off like a total idiot right now, but I don’t care. You-” He gestures vaguely, as if struggling to find the right words. “You’re different. You’re not like anyone else here.”

“That’s because I’m not supposed to be here,” you say, your tone light but your eyes searching his. “I’m a doctor, Franco. Not meant for … whatever this world is.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head. “You could be anything, and I’d still want to know you. You’re …” He trails off, then laughs at himself. “God, I’m bad at this.”

You laugh too, finally relaxing. “A little, yeah.”

“But I’m trying,” he says, his expression earnest now. “And I’ll keep trying, even if it means walking into more doors. Or walls. Or whatever else gets in my way.”

You shake your head, exasperated but undeniably charmed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously into you,” Franco counters, grinning.

You groan, but your smile betrays you. “Stop. That was awful.”

“Was it?” Hr teases, leaning just slightly closer.

“Yes,” you say firmly, though there’s a hint of laughter in your voice. “And I’m not letting you use your injuries as an excuse to flirt with me.”

“Then what excuse should I use?” He asks, tilting his head.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now. “How about none? Just be normal.”

“Normal,” Franco repeats, as if testing the word. “Okay. I can do that. Probably.”

“Somehow, I doubt it,” you say, but your tone is lighter now, your guard lowering just a fraction.

Franco grins, sensing the shift. He might not be smooth, but he’s persistent. And right now, that feels like enough.

***

The hospital hums with its usual rhythm: the sharp beeps of monitors, the steady shuffle of footsteps, and the occasional murmur of voices echoing down sterile hallways. You’re halfway through your shift, mentally cataloging a growing to-do list, when one of the nurses finds you near the break room.

She looks far too amused for your liking, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Hey, Doc,” she says, her tone conspiratorial. “You’ve got a patient in Room 43. Interesting case. File’s by the door.”

You glance up from your notes, immediately suspicious. “Interesting how?”

“Let’s just say … not your usual trauma,” she replies, her grin widening. “Go see for yourself.”

With a sigh, you grab your tablet and head down the hallway. You’re too tired to entertain the nurse’s cryptic humor, but curiosity tugs at you anyway. When you reach Room 43, you spot the chart hanging by the door. You pick it up and start skimming, your brain automatically processing the medical shorthand.

And then your eyes land on the complaint: penile fracture.

You freeze. Your brain short-circuits for a good five seconds.

Penile fracture. Seriously? You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to laugh or groan. It’s not unheard of, but it’s rare enough to make your day a little more … colorful.

Squaring your shoulders, you prepare yourself for what’s undoubtedly going to be an awkward encounter. Professionalism, you remind yourself. You’ve handled weirder cases.

But all of that resolve shatters the second you open the door and step into the room.

Because the patient isn’t some anonymous stranger.

It’s Franco.

Franco, lounging on the exam table like he doesn’t have a care in the world, scrolling through his phone with his free hand. Franco, the same man you’ve been dating for months, who absolutely should not be in this hospital room right now.

Your mouth opens, ready to deliver your standard introduction, but no words come out.

Franco looks up at the sound of the door, his face breaking into that familiar, devilish grin. “Hey, angel.”

“What the-” You stop yourself, gripping the edge of the clipboard like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. “Franco, what are you doing here?”

He sets his phone down, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m a patient. Clearly.”

You take a deep breath, setting the clipboard aside. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope.” He leans back slightly, gesturing toward himself with both hands. “Broken dick. You saw the file.”

Your jaw tightens as you step closer, lowering your voice. “Franco, this is a hospital. You can’t just-”

“I didn’t just anything,” he cuts in, feigning indignation. “I’m here because you abandoned me this morning. And now I’m suffering.”

You blink at him, completely thrown. “Suffering?”

“Yes!” He says, sitting up straighter, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays any attempt at seriousness. “You left me. Alone. In bed. With …” He lowers his voice dramatically. “An issue.”

Your brain scrambles to keep up. “An issue?”

Franco sighs, as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “Blue balls. A raging, unresolved situation. You’re a doctor — you know how dangerous that can be.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice rises slightly before you catch yourself. “Franco, I left because I had to come to work. Like a normal person.”

“Right, but normal people don’t leave their boyfriends high and dry,” he argues, his tone edging into the realm of petulant. “Do you know how much it hurts? It’s practically a medical emergency.”

You close your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So let me get this straight,” you say slowly. “You’re here because you have blue balls. And instead of — oh, I don’t know — handling it with your hand and some lotion like a grown adult, you decided to come to my workplace and waste everyone’s time?”

“I don’t see it as wasting time,” Franco says, crossing his arms. “I see it as seeking expert care. From a very qualified, very beautiful doctor.”

“Franco,” you say warningly, but he’s already grinning.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt, “don’t you think it’s romantic? I’m literally willing to suffer for you.”

“Oh my God.” You press a hand to your forehead, feeling a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “You are not suffering. And this is not romantic — it’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously sweet,” Franco counters, clearly enjoying himself.

You stare at him, torn between wanting to strangle him and laugh. “You know I could get in trouble for this, right? What if someone finds out I’m treating my boyfriend? Or worse, that you’re faking a medical emergency?”

“I’m not faking,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “The pain in my cock is very real.”

“Franco.” Your voice is flat, and you fix him with your best no-nonsense look.

He hesitates for a beat, then leans forward slightly, lowering his voice like he’s about to confess something scandalous. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a fracture. But it is painful!”

You throw your hands up, resisting the urge to laugh despite yourself. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

Franco pouts, his lower lip sticking out in an exaggerated fashion. “Come on, angel. Don’t be mad. I just wanted to see you.”

“You couldn’t have waited until my shift was over?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m impatient. And in my defense, you looked very cute leaving this morning.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” he says, his grin widening.

“Don’t push your luck,” you warn, though there’s no real bite in your tone.

Franco leans back on the exam table, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just disrupted your workday. “So … are you gonna examine me or what?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you want me to call security? Because that’s where this is headed.”

“You wouldn’t,” he says, his confidence unwavering.

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Try me.”

Franco holds your gaze for a moment, then sighs dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. No exam. But only because I value our relationship.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, not even trying to hide your sarcasm.

He grins again, the kind of grin that’s always been your undoing. “You can’t stay mad at me, angel. Admit it.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts. “Franco, you’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, you’d be on your way out of here in handcuffs.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he smirks. “Kinky.”

“Oh, for the love of-” You don’t bother finishing the sentence, turning toward the door instead.

“Wait, wait!” Franco calls after you, sliding off the exam table. “I’m kidding! Don’t go!”

You pause, looking back at him. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, his expression softer now. “Seriously,” he says. “I just … I missed you. And I thought maybe this would make you laugh. Or at least roll your eyes. Which it did, so … mission accomplished?”

You sigh, feeling your resolve waver. It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s looking at you like that — like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

“Franco,” you say, your voice quieter now. “You can’t just show up like this. I have a job to do.”

“I know,” he says, stepping closer. “And I promise I won’t make a habit of it. But … can I take you to dinner after your shift? As an apology?”

You study him for a moment, weighing your options. Finally, you let out a small sigh. “Fine. But only if you promise to behave.”

“I promise,” he says quickly, holding a hand over his heart.

“And no more faking injuries,” you add, pointing a finger at him.

“Scout’s honor,” he says, though the mischievous glint in his eye suggests otherwise.

You shake your head, exasperated but smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you keep me around,” he says, grinning.

“For now,” you say, opening the door. “Now get out of here before someone sees you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Franco says, saluting playfully as he follows you into the hallway.

As he walks away, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Ridiculous as he is, there’s no denying that life with Franco is never boring.

[yanderedrabbles]

Sunk and Gone

Yandere! Gangster x Mafia Boss! Reader

Fluff, needy yandere, age difference, slightly suggestive content

He was just some dumb kid who played with fire.

Before he knew it, he was getting his ass kicked by the real deal, the big time guys.

He dropped your name out of pure desperation. He had no clue who you were really. He just wanted to save his own skin.

He never expected you to actually show up.

In your white tailored suit, you were like some mafioso guardian angel.

You tilted his chin up to face you and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes. You were goddamn terrifying.

"This little punk says he's one of mine?"

You lazily blew your cigar smoke into his face. It was black cherry, high class stuff. He can still remember the taste of it on his tongue, the way it made his whole body tingle.

He thought he was done for. You were probably gonna set your own guys on him for dropping names he had no business knowing.

He never expected you to save him.

His beat down gurus were cussing up a storm, saying he practically maimed one of their guys, he wouldn't even be able to walk for a week.

What bullshit. The most he did was give the guy a shiner before he was getting his own ass kicked.

You smiled at him then, like you knew exactly how much crap they were spewing.

You nodded and your guys threw a fat stack of cash on the table. All 100s. God, there must have been at least 5k just sitting there.

You hauled him to his feet and that's when he realised you were stronger than you looked too.

"Why?"

He barely even managed to ask that.

You were trying to light a new cigar and get back in your fancy car, but your lighter was just throwing up sparks.

He found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out his shitty gas station lighter. He struck a flame and held it out to you.

You leaned in and caught his eyes for the second time that night. The flame was dancing in your eyes and you looked just like the devil.

He was sunk right then and there and he knew it.

He showed up outside your office everyday, waiting with his lighter clasped in his sweaty palm.

Everyday without fail, you would give him a chance to light one of your smokes for you.

"Don't you got someplace better to be kid?"

"No ma'am."

And he kept doing it, rain or shine or snow. On bad days, he'd bring his umbrella and unfurl it for you before you even stepped out of the car.

"You shouldn't keep hanging around kid. It ain't safe."

"I know ma'am."

He stayed, despite the dirty looks from the gangsters, despite the way they bumped into him hard enough to bruise. He stayed, stubborn as a goddamn mule, until you gave up on getting rid of him.

"I got a job for you kid."

"Anything you ask ma'am."

Oh he was a sucker for you. You had him hook, line and sinker without even trying.

And he worked hard. Running errands and then pushing drugs and then beating down the folks you set him loose on. There weren't any limits anymore, no line he wouldn't cross for you.

After a while, you let him in your guard rotation. And he was in bliss. He watched you constantly.

Hell, he couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to. The capo himself said he was impressed with his diligence.

"Come here kid. You ever had oysters before?'

"No ma'am."

You were in one of your favourite restaurants, finishing up your meal and just drunk enough to have given yourself a pretty flush across your cheeks.

You made him lean toward you and gripped his chin before tilting the oyster into his mouth. It was salty and soft and his mind was going awful dirty awful fast.

After that he would order oysters whenever he could. He could almost feel your fingers on his skin when he ate them.

And soon he was part of your interrogation crew. His shirt sleeves rolled up and his forearms splattered with blood. He was putting on muscle now too and his punch hurt worse than a hammer to the face.

One unlucky son of a bitch made the mistake of insulting you right in front of him. God help him, when the anger cleared, the man's face was nothing more than pulp.

And you were watching him. One arm crossed under your breasts with the other balanced on it, a cigarette held up to your lips.

"You're a real good guard dog, you know that kid?"

"Thank you ma'am."

The next time you summoned him, you were in your office. Your heels were off and your legs were crossed, your stockings showing off the curves of your feet.

"Grab that pen for me."

It was on the floor under a side table and he had to get down on his knees to get it. When he moved to stand, you interrupted him.

"Don't get up. But bring it here."

"Yes ma'am."

He was grinning like a dog in heat. He put the pen in between his teeth and crawled on his hands and knees to you.

He sat at your feet like a goddamn puppy, his boner so fucking hard he thought it would rip through his trousers.

You cupped his chin in your palm and looked down at him. From down here, your legs looked a mile long and he wanted to lick every inch.

"You're such a loyal little thing, you know that?"

"Ysss mmm."

It was muffled because he still had that fucking pen in his mouth. And he was damn thankful for it too. Without something to bite onto, he was sure he'd actually be panting.

You took it carefully out of his mouth. A string of saliva followed it and you twitched your thumb across his lips to break the connection.

"Good boy."

You turned away from him, shaking the pen off a little and getting back to the books you were balancing.

He whimpered.

He actually fucking whimpered.

You smirked a little at that and shooed him away with one perfectly manicured hand. He dragged his feet walking out of there, his boner killing all higher thinking. Just hoping and praying you would call him back.

He turned to look at you before he closed the door. You had your face resting in one hand and you were tapping the pen against your lips with the other. Your eyes were entirely focused on your books.

And he felt it all over again. He was sunk - hook, line and sinker.

He was your loyal dog. Now and always.

[breitzbachbea]

-spins wheel whether I will think about AU SicIre doing smarmy family stuff or canon Railey talking again about how they can't picture a life without each other-

[shaisuki]

“c'mere megumi. i know you're tired.”

gojo calls out to him but the boy ignores him and continued to walk.

“he won't satoru. you traumatized him.” you quipped at him.

teleportation is fun and all but not to a fourth-grader megumi who got almost dropped mid-air from the teleportation skill gojo have, only to catch him mid-air before he truly drops.

“i catched him before he fell.” the white-haired male pouts.

“catched him before he fell?” scoffing at him. “he's a child, satoru. think before you do something to him. you almost endangered him with your antics and you can't do whatever you please when you want. you're an ass and you know it.” you spat at him and gojo pouts and he's like a child kneeling down while being scolded.

you crouched down to meet the height of megumi. patting his head and you began to speak in a soft voice. “i'll carry you, okay? i promise no funny business.” drawing a cross in your chest to convince megumi. the poor child is sleepy and fighting the urge to not sleep caused by the earlier wrongdoing of an pre-adult.

deciding to trust you, megumi comes closer to you and puts his arms around your neck before carrying his small body in front of you. your arms tucked under his thighs and it turns to snuggle you. his jaw in your shoulder.

megumi blankly stares at the adult behind you. immature, he thought but his eyes are getting heavy and sleep is calling to him. before his eyes closed he reminds himself not to be carried by that weird man.

it took a few seconds before the child snuggling in you fell asleep. you can tell from the lack of movements of his body and the small snores. patting his back before continuing to walk.

gojo followed you. he felt bad and it was like a punch to him in the gut when you scold him but he likes it. loves it when your cheeks puff and your eyes rolling at him in annoyance.

stopping at a bakery to get a few sweets to satisfy his sweet tooth and for the siblings to eat back home. you continued to walk, enjoying the little peace and quiet before a old lady approached at you three.

“oh my! what a cute family.” the old lady commented and your eye twitched at the comment. giving the lady a smile before briefly bowing.

taken a back at the sudden statement before gojo burst out in a laughter. “she called us a family, (y/n).”

“ha-ha-ha. funny.” you dryly responds to him and adjusting your arm to make megumi comfortably settle in you. the child is completely passed out in your grasp and you can't help but to kiss megumi's wild hair in which megumi groans before going back to sleep.

“aww, come on. i didn't mean it, okay?” gojo whines, blocking your way as he walked backwards to meant he really is sorry.

“okay.” you replied back to him. “just don't do it again.”

“okay!” he beams up and once again silence filled in the long way of walking.

dusk is beginning to settle down and the sky turns into orange. the sunlight giving it's final rays before the night falls.

“kind of you to take them both, satoru.” you break the silence and gojo hums. thinking about something.

despite gojo's stubbornness and his lack of tact in things, you like that he's willing to help the children to have a roof over their head and spoiled them like it's his own. even preventing megumi to be taken away from his clan and let him have a normal childhood with his sister.

“say, (y/n). what if we adopt them both?” gojo asks you.

“we? and adopt?” gojo nods. waiting for your answer. “i think it's fine. these two will have two guardians to look them over if the other one's not around and in case something's happen to one of us.”

“don't say that, (y/n).”

you raised an eyebrow at him and smiled.

“it's inevitable, satoru. in this line of work we have.” you said to him. referring how dangerous the jujutsu society is and you'll never know what the future may hold.

“i'll protect you. us”" his bright blue eyes peeking through his dark glasses with sincerity. looking at you and megumi sleeping in your arms.

“satoru....” you call him and his eyes full of sincerity.

“that's nice, satoru.” you smile at him but the expression in his face is anticipating something more.

“i know you will, satoru.” and he grins. pressing a tender kiss in your forehead and patting megumi's head. “stop that, sato. you'll wake him up and don't get too sappy with me. it's not you.” he pouts at that but kisses you again.

he can't wait to be with you forever.

[shotmrmiller]

now im thinking about how you're technically johnny's wife of convenience but now also simon's girlfriend.

like maybe you're crazy but you do remember johnny telling you that you can see other people, just don't bring them home. but every time you try to, simon is there.

something always suspiciously happens when you're out, conveniently forcing you to cut the date short, and the one that picks you up is simon. he doesn't even let you walk yourself out either. he'll already be at your table, putting your phone and wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. and what's worse, with the one guy who didn't mind, the one who had asked for a raincheck, simon told him that you have a husband at home waiting for them with a warm dinner.

he chuckles under his breath at the guy's reaction— ashen face, wide eyes, and gaping mouth. "don't know what ya saw in tha' bloke anyway. he didn't even cover the bill." because simon stared at him until he skittered out the front door without a backward glance.

and then their dates. they're supposed to be a couple; you're just a front, so why do they keep taking you with them as a third wheel. is it an exhibitionist kink? because that's what it feels like every time they're together. it's all sloppy kisses, grabby hands and you swear that if you hadn't spun around and briskly walked away that one lazy saturday simon was home, they would've probably let you watch them fuck each other stupid on the living room carpet.

it's also hard to bring it up to johnny because either simon's there, leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed as he watches you exist, or is taking up far too much space on the couch so that if you want to sit there and watch the telly, you're obligated to press up against his massive thigh. (manspreading, simon? really? truly?) or you can't look him in the eye after listening to the headboard repeatedly slam against the wall all night. you can still hear johnny's moans curling around the edges of your very conscious.

then, you meet the rest of the 141: a tall, broad bear of a man with the ocean in his eyes and an iconic mutton chop beard. john price, he'd rumbled as he shook your hand. and then the other one, a devastatingly pretty man with chocolate-brown eyes, a small scar on his cheek, and perfect, white teeth. kyle, the boys call me gaz. a pleasure. he'd grabbed your hand with both of his as he also shook it.

johnny doesn't stick around, excusing himself quickly as he takes a phone call but simon does. he stands directly behind you— a suffocating presence a silent guardian— so close you can feel his body warmth on the expanse of your back.

little close there, eh simon?

no' at all, boss.

once he starts showing up at your college with lunch, you feel like your patience is dangling by a fragile, whisper-thin thread so you confront him directly.

only to have him shut you down in seconds.

what's johnny's is mine. now sit, i know ya didn't eat breakfast this mornin'.

at least he brought you your favorite meal:}

[nikovraskol]

Crack baby is very *chief kiss*🤌

I wonder if MC knows that legally they can't live alone as a minor without the involvement of an adult? Like you can do that at 16 but for this to be legal you still need a legal guardian and to get an ok from the government by giving a good reason like your parents working out of the country and you stay for school.

If I was MC I'd not ask because Bruce will not care enough to think of a good lie to give the government (but also he can just pay the right people)

Also what would happen if MC didn't ask for money for the House? Will Bruce tell them that he decided to move their room to the family wing? What else will he want to talk about? And how will he react to MC refusing to move rooms calmly and saying that they are who moved that room that that section (it can be a lie) and that they prefer the quite.

Alfred finding that he has more work to do, and also gets worried that you saddenly don't want to be close to the family

you're very perceptive anon, i do have plans regarding mc's age and all that jazz

masterlist

but if mc weren't too ask bruce for money, let's say you convienently had enough money saved up or you had a friend to stay with, you would likely leave silently.

you pack their bags and dip, just like that. of course, alfred would be the first to notice and he would be absolutely devastated! he cares for mc like a child and you just left without a word!! but not to worry, he's sure you'll be back, evident by the way the family reacts.

just -- don't be surprised by how closely he lingers when you're back, he must make sure you don't do anything rash anymore.

slowly but surely, the manor would become strangely silence, a lack of a presence that nobody can put their finger on what's changed .. i mean, they didn't take notice of you anyway so it's not like they'd suddenly realise straight away.

it's definetly damian who notices first .. he takes a walk around your room hoping to bump into you and (see you) remind you how useless you are.. but there's a silence around your room that puts him on edge.

he's completely disgruntled when he realises you've gone! blasphemous! how could this be?

he then tells bruce, who is just as perplexed -- how did you leave? you're a child! way too young to survive gotham alone. he then recruits the others and they track you down with ease ! you're obviously upset -- who do they think they are? they suddenly want to take interest in you now? after all that's happened.

like, you'd probably be casually lounging around, doing what you do and you turn your head and there's a family gathering in your room.. except they don't look too pleased.

you can cry as much as you want, kick, scream -- they'll take you back, you felt neglected, right? that's why you left, don't worry. they'll take care of you, just don't try running away again, yeah?

as for mc refusing to move wings.. that's really interesting to me because it opens up so many possiblities.

first of all, you refusing just adds to bruce's guilt. he takes it less as you being resentful and more-so you being scared, it adds to his image of you being some helpless, naive fool.

he'll probably relent for a week, but the image of you stuck in your room, crying alone has him clutching his hair until he can't take it and he'll just move u in ur sleep.

you go to sleep peacefully in your little box room only to wake up in some fancy, way too big room that has you gaping in shock -- you're obviously pissed off, where does he get off treating you like a child!

he sighs whenever you kick and scream, gently soothing you much to your chagrin. he'll change his plan from dropping in every once in a while to every single day.

he sees you as a child, so each time you shout at him, telling him you no longer want his attention, that you're not a child -- it just adds to his helpless image of you !!

there's nothing you can do now, there's no moving out or running away, because as soon as bruce sets his eyes on you, so does everyone else.

you're stuck, poor you, but don't worry, with bruce holding your hand you don't have anything you need to wish for! isn't that great?

[secretlocket]

chris helps sunshine!reader prepare for her christmas party.

“…kid's tryna take his sweater off again."

the sound of your boyfriend's voice halts your overthinking, the worrisome thoughts that were invading your mind pushed back as you make your way over to him and pretzel, your puppy, who's still not thrilled about the christmas sweater you put on him.

you stand there watching as chris gently grabs pretzel’s paws, preventing him from scratching off the sweater once more. the puppy lets out a low whine, his small tail thumping on the floor in protest.

"he’s really not a fan of that sweater, huh?" chris jokes lightly, still trying to keep a hold of the squirming puppy.

“maybe i should’ve gone with the plain one instead of this snowflake monstrosity,” you mutter, adjusting pretzel’s sweater while he wriggles dramatically beneath your hands.

chris chuckles, leaning against the couch as he watches him fuss. “nah, i think it’s cute. but, you know, if you’re this stressed about the kid and his clothes, maybe we should talk about the party instead.”

that’s all it takes to send you spiraling. “oh my god, don’t even get me started on the party!” you groan, standing up and starting to pace. “chris, i’m so nervous i feel like i’m gonna throw up. what if nobody shows up? like, what if nobody comes and i’m just standing here, with all this food and decorations, completely humiliated? i’ll never live it down. never.”

chris watches you with a small smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes are soft with understanding. “hey—” he says, stepping in front of you and gently placing his hands on your shoulders, halting your pacing. “that’s not gonna happen.”

you stop and look at him, your face still scrunched with worry. “you don’t know that,” you mutter, your voice small.

“yeah, i do,” he insists, his tone calm but firm. “y’know why? because i’ll be here. so will nick and matt. they wouldn’t miss it. and your friends? they’re definitely coming, too. you’ve been talking about this party for weeks—they’re not just gonna bail. everyone is looking forward to it.”

“yeah, okay, but what if—”

“nope,” he interrupts, squeezing your shoulders lightly. “no ‘what ifs.’ even if somehow the guest list shrinks to just me and my brothers—which it won’t—you’d still have the three of us here eating all your snacks and hyping you up. honestly, that’s already a solid party right there.”

despite yourself, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculously right,” he counters, grinning now. “listen, babe, everyone loves you. they’re not coming to judge your decorations or your food. they’re coming because they want to hang out with you. and i’ll be here the whole time, making sure you’re having as much fun as they are.”

you pause, his words lingering in the air, and let them settle in. deep down, you know he’s right—he’s always right when it comes to things like this.

“i hate when you do that,” you say softly, the corners of your mouth twitching upward.

“do what?” chris grins knowingly. he’s like the perfect mix between a gremlin and a guardian angel.

“make me feel better about things i’ve already spent hours freaking out over,” you reply, shaking your head. “it’s like you’re always two steps ahead of me, waiting to remind me that i’m overthinking everything.”

he shrugs, his hands still resting lightly on your arms. “mmm, s’not that hard. i just know you. you’re always so focused on making sure everyone else is happy that you forget to let yourself enjoy it, too.” chris also a chronic overthinker himself, that’s why it’s so easy for him to catch you whenever you’re slipping off the edge.

your chest tightens, but not in the way it did earlier. this time, it’s warmth spreading through you—a reminder of how lucky you are to have him in your life. “you’re always looking out for me,” you say softly, meeting his eyes. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

chris tilts his head, his expression softening. “you’d be fine, yn. you’re strong, even when you don’t feel like it. but i’m glad i get to be here, y’know? to remind you of that.”

you reach up, placing your hand over his, and give it a gentle squeeze. “i don’t say it enough, but… thank you. for everything. for just…being you.”

he leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, his grin returning. “anytime. now, let’s finish decorating this place and getting the snacks ready. i don’t know about you, but i am not impressed by the lack of pepsi in your fridge. that shit needs to be fixed, like, immediately. we can actually have some stuff doordashed if you don’t feel like going out? or i can finish decorating while you run out…”

you laugh, and for the first time all day, it feels like the stress is finally melting away. chris always has a way of doing that—of reminding you to breathe, to focus on what matters, and to not let your own happiness get lost in the shuffle.

but unfortunately, while you two were distracted earlier, pretzel found himself having a bit too much fun messing around with the ornaments, a specific one catching his eye—a red, sparkling, biscuit shaped one.

the sound of frantic rustling from the living room catches both your attention, and you whip around to see pretzel once again yanking on one of the branches like it’s a game of tug of war.

“hey—hey!” chris yelps, trying to get the small puppy to back down, but it’s no use. with one last triumphant tug, the tree gives a mighty sway before toppling over, ornaments scattering everywhere.

messages from brie 🗯️ : …wanted to write a cute lil christmas blurb but something tells me that this is well over 100 words—my bad !! just wanted to get a feel for these two with au & test out my writing after having such a looooooong break from it. anyways i hope you all enjoy this !! was very fun to work on <3

✷ tags : @sugrhigh @et6rnalsun @eternaldecisions @sirenedeslily @freshloveee @nickssidewitch

[800db-cloud]

spare some spy hcs? 👀

OKAY. ok. so i have been putting off answering this ask because i’m admittedly very shy and very afraid of sharing my headcanons. and also because i have A LOT OF THEM.. but here we are!

here are my headcanon spies :) René works for RED and Jacques works for BLU!

where to start, where to start… i have a LOT of headcanons for them, i’ll be talking for FOREVER here. i’ll just start with story because why not! xP

René’s parents were also agents/spies, so he was always destined to be one as well. And he lives up to his parents’ legacies! He’s most notorious for destroying gangs and mobs and the like from the outside in. He was brought to America years ago to take out a dangerous mob boss, but unfortunately found himself infatuated (and involved) with the boss’ daughter. Luckily for him, the boss’ daughter wanted the guy dead, too.

René’s story is honestly a lot more fleshed out than Jacques’, but here goes anyway:

Jacques’ father was a very rich and powerful man in politics. Jacques himself was the result of an affair, and to keep it hush-hush, his father decided to raise him. Raise is a strong word, though— but he did help his father gain intelligence and blackmail on opposing political parties. Jacques proved to be a promising spy since childhood.

If anyone has any suggestions/ideas for Jacques’ story, let me know haha x) he didn’t have the greatest upbringing per se…

last thing on this section i wanna talk about is the Scouts. René is related to both of the Scouts; he’s RED Scout (Jeremy)’s biological father, and he’s BLU Scout (James)’ adoptive/step-father. Jacques has no relation to either scout, but acts as a guardian figure to BLU Scout.

anyway, this is the part where i continue talking about other miscellaneous headcanons! and these come with doodles :)

You couldn’t catch René DEAD without his mask, or his suit! He’d neeever take them off around other people (‘other people’ is mainly just Scout. For obvious reasons.) Meanwhile, Jacques is pretty lenient in letting his teammates see his face! Everyone on BLU’s seen his face at least once.

A big part of why René refuses to strip down is also due to the fact he has a LOT of tattoos. No doodle for this one because I’ve yet to decide on what tattoos to put on him (ideas are very welcome!!), but yeah! Most of the tattoos were ‘forced’ onto him/he had to get for jobs and ‘fitting in’ with bad crowds, but a good few of them were of his own accord, too.

Jacques doesn’t have tattoos, but he has a myriad of another thing: scars! Lots and lots of scars on this guy. Faded and old, sure, but they’re there. Most prominent ones are the one around his neck (from when the RED Medic beheaded him) and the ones on his forearms (those are from the LAST time he was imprisoned— looong story…)

René doesn’t cook very often for his team, but when he does, everyone’s always BLOWN AWAY by this guy’s cooking! René’s really bad at taking compliments, though— (“Cooking food that’s remotely edible isn’t a compliment, it’s basic survival.”) —but rest assured he’ll be thinking about it for the next month. Jacques, however… Do NOT let this guy into the kitchen. Ever. The BLU base has a special fire extinguisher “In Case Spy Decides To Turn On The Stove”

oooh, this one is an hc and a HALF to me. René much prefers working alone. It’s just in his nature, being isolated and whatnot. He likes to deal with things by himself– maybe he doesn’t want to burden others? On the contrary, Jacques NEVER works alone. It’s a trait he’s had even before being hired to BLU. You never know when things could go wrong, so it’s best to have someone else to fall back to… or someone else you can blame!

these hcs both have something to do with how René and Jacques show their trust in other people :) it’s a bit convoluted but it gets there:

René is, amusingly, very bad at remembering names. Almost laughably bad. There have been many-a-story of his days before RED where he’d get a target’s name wrong, even after he’d repeated it in his head dozens of times over. Names are difficult for him, so if he remembers yours, it means you mean a lot to him! He prefers using his teammates’ names rather than their titles. René is unaware of how charming this specifc trait is to his coworkers (they saw how much work and effort it took for him to memorize their names, they’re just happy with how far he’s come!)

Jacques has a… to put simply, very complicated relationship with food. But the one thing he’ll never turn down is sweets. His favorites especially being chocolate bonbons. Jacques has a hard time eating in front of others, let alone sharing his food! But if he genuinely likes and trusts you enough, he’d have half the mind to share with you. Admittedly, he hasn’t brought himself to share with most of the members of his team yet, except for a select few. Mostly BLU Medic and BLU Sniper.

—

and of course, eventually, EVENTUALLY, these two also become friends! it took a little bit but believe me, they both respect each other’s skill in their job :)

AHHg i could go sooo much longer about them— from things like their physical traits (how much teeth they have? it’s a pressing question) or different periods of their life (why did rené have to leave his family? why was jacques imprisoned for the last time?) BUT this post is so… so, so long. My fingers hurt from typing

If you’ve managed to read through this Beast, THANK YOU RAAHH!!! thanks so much for asking this, too. i hope to spare more hcs someday. hehe ^_^

[deadghosy]

Can you do more Hazbin Hotel x enderman reader? I'm obsessed with it. I love the idea.

Credit to the person who made the art, this is just how I imagine Enderman!reader to look like as a human. 🦆✨

MORE HAZBIN HOTEL X ENDERMAN! READER IMAGINES/HEACANNONS

imagine how reader is when they get pissed…they would just straight up punching shit just like the Enderman hits you in Minecraft 😭

I Imagine Charlie trying to make you do a eye contest with Alastor only for you to start tweaking and punch Alastor into a wall as Alastor only gives up a thumbs up while you sweatdrop putting on your blindfold as you try to pull out Alastor from the wall

I headcannon reader to always pat everyone’s head when they are at their full height. But at 6’5 they just pat their back like “good job buddy😐✨”

Imagine Lucifer and you wearing matching shirts that say, “if lost return to big boy” as your shirt says “I lost big boy”

Headcannon that Angel is your cuddle buddy because he likes how your arm is basically a pillow for you. And husk is your second cuddle buddy because of his fur and you like to pet him.

I imagine Angel trying to make you wear pink only for it to turn black when it fits your body. Angel gave you a “🤨 are you fuckin serious?” Look as you just shrugged with a “😐” face. I mean shit, if it fits. It fits.

I headcannon Enderman!Reader’s suit to be like the art but instead of those black things on it. It’s just slight purple sparkles on it to represent the purple pixels around them.

But definitely their second fit is a black vest and a white dress shirt with black slacks and black dress shoes. 🤨☝🏾 W FIT YOU GOTTA ADMIT!

Yk how Angel made that Snapchat post about you and you got death threats? Yeah well Valentino was the reason as he got mad that Angel “wasn’t paying” you as you were just working on the hotel

I imagine Enderman! Reader to be black coded just like how the art is above as the reader’s hair is always in dreads, cornrows, and twists. But never in an Afro state as it takes time to get the hair nice and soft (coming from a black writer….it literally takes an hour…)

I imagine you once teleported during your cuddle session between husk and angel. They were so confused they even searched your room only to find out you teleported on the top roof of the hotel during your sleep.

I imagine Valentino at least trying to ambush you to see why Angel is so happy to come to the hotel to see you again. Only for you to teleport out of his view every second. And the moth dude is like “shit! He’s onto me…” but really you are just bored asf and need some fresh air from the hotel air.

I can see nifty just minding her business when you lifted her up and croaked softly petting her head and sitting her down.

I headcannon Enderman! Reader’s room to be built from those block in the end so reader can feel the presence of his home in the hotel💗🦆

I imagine Velvette actually getting able to like post you on her fashion account as a mysterious person with your blindfolded looks. The girls dig for guys who seem mysterious.

Imagine Lucifer and you making each other building hobbies, like he makes you build him a duck as he makes you a sleeping mask just incase you don’t want to stare at someone’s face without your blindfold.

Headcannon on how fat nuggets like to cuddle against reader’s legs as reader was making a bed for fat nuggets to have a heater installed if the pig is cold.

Like…bro IMAGINE READER BENG SO PISSED THEY SUMMON THE MOTHER OF ALL…THE GUARDIAN OF THE END…THE ENDER DRAGONNN (dun x3 dramatically) maybe they would summon that during the battle between the angels and absolutely destroy their asses

I headcannon Angel once seen your mouth glowing purple when you unhinged your jaw to screech. He definitely asked before checking out your mouth which he could see in the back was glowing.

Since I headcannon enderman! Reader is black coded. They have a bonnet that was shipped from Velvette as they put it on and felt more comfortable sleeping ‼️💗

Who would be the first one to respond to you calling them: Lucifer, Charlie, Angel dust, husk, nifty, Alastor. And specifically in that order 🦆

I headcannon for Vox to try to always have you on his night show so he can show off his new “guest” being a new specie of demons.

I imagine sinners asking what ring (7 deadly sins) you came from and you are just like. “The end….i came from the end..” and now they are more confused than you when they asked where you came from

I headcannon reader’s nickemame is like, “ENDY, tall one, handsome, [actual nickname], weirdo, cutie, dad, fucker, bestie.” You can imagine who called you who which is kinda obvious…

I imagine Adam to make a lot jokes about you saying how freaky you are and how weird you are for not liking eye contact without your blindfold as you just stand there like “what’s for dinner…😐”

I can see you showing the egg boiz a picture of a ender dragon egg making them think they can have someone like them but also just like you

I can see you just standing there as everyone argues in the court because Charlie wanted you there since you don’t seem like a demon or angel. She tried to get answers but no one knew what you were.

Imagine modern au! Angel dust and you do tiktoks….because Angel dust forced you to be in his tiktoks as the others just watch trying to enjoy their summer vacation

I can see Adam hating how you aren’t pressed about what he says about you as you just stand there ignoring him.

Imagine you being sick and everyone stopping to make sure you are okay. (except for Alastor as he knows you will be better soon) Like the whole crew just starts to baby you and try to fix things you can fix but only fail.

Imagine reader with a baby ender dragon as a pet as reader whistle for the dragon to land on their shoulder or appear more bigger for it to protect you and the crew

I headcannon reader’s singing voice to sound decent with a little bit of deepness in it to mask out some things.

I imagine your full form if you were a demon or angel obviously an ender dragon lol 🦆

Imagine Pentious just pure on slithering around your body as you just sit down after a rough day of complaining by residents and their rooms.

I headcannon Lucifer to get on your shoulders to feel bigger for fun which make it seem so cartoony as one has a derpy smile while the other has a thumbs up and a “😐” face just staring blankly into people’s soul