#she might be a tablet girlie

[stravacious]

gary’s twin sister, nadine!!

i’m a sucker for the bonnie & neddy episode :’)

#stravacious #i imagine gary dyed his hair pink bc it’s her favorite and then she wanted it done too #they’d interact with each other a bit more in this world #in at canon bonnie kinda just locks him in a basement bc that’s all she can do but like. nadine needs to eat #i picture it more like he is her only safe person #she freaks out about other people so gary doesn’t bring anyone over #she might be a tablet girlie #sorry if this is too ‘miku binder jefferson’ to ppl out of the at canon loop #their gum lullaby is just some rlly cute song their mom used to sing before she died #in my last at post i mentioned that they lived w their shitty aunt georgia (uncle gumbald) before gary moved them out #maybe she’s the reason nadine hates other ppl so much #adventure time #fionna and cake #gary prince

[pucksandpower]

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #toto wolff #max verstappen #toto wolff imagine #max verstappen imagine #toto wolff x reader #max verstappen x reader #toto wolff fic #max verstappen fic #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #toto wolff blurb #max verstappen blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #hozier

[personasdestinyy]

Sorrowful Love | Ch#4 | JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; All he desires is vengeance.

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: thriller, angst, love at first sight, au! sexting

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x Sena oc!

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: This story contains explicit language, graphic violence(murders, blood etc), and other mature content, If you are easily affected by such themes, it might be best to avoid reading it.

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k+

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭⇢

Jungkook's Pov:

After my encounter with that weird girl, the first thought that crossed my mind was, 'What a strange girl!'. Despite my efforts to suppress it, a smile involuntarily crept onto my lips. It was as if her eccentricity had a contagious effect on me, leaving me both bewildered and amused.

'Fuck'

Women don't usually bewilder me, and I'm not easily amused by girly things or their peculiar behaviors. However, against all odds, she managed to bring a small smile to my face. I can't believe how?

Later on, I decided to buy Geworin tablets, for myself. As I paid for the medication and walked out of the pharmacy, I just hoped that this medication would provide some relief, a glimmer of hope to lift my spirits.

After buying medicine, I make my way back home through the familiar streets. I unlock the door, step inside, and head straight to the kitchen to fetch a water bottle. With the pill in hand and a glass of water, I swallow it down and feel a sense of relief washing over me.

Feeling slightly better, I make my way to the art gallery, constructed in the basement. Bending down, I retrieve the hidden key from beneath the carpet and walk over to a large canvas. With a bit of effort, I lift the canvas and set it aside, revealing a hidden door. Inserting the key into the lock, I hear the satisfying click as it opens. I then tuck the key back into the right pocket of my pants and swing the door open.

As I step into the room, my eyes immediately gravitate towards the images that I've meticulously taped on the wall. These images represent the people who have caused me immense pain and anger. With a mix of hate and disdain, I take a moment to glance at each one, feeling a surge of emotions coursing through my veins. It's as if the mere sight of these individuals ignites a fire within me, causing my blood to boil and wanting me to end these people's lives right now.

With a sense of determination, I reach for a file sitting on the table nearby.

However, before I can even open the file, the familiar ring of my phone interrupts the moment. I place the file back on the table and smoothly retrieve my phone from the right pocket of my pants. Glancing at the caller ID, I see an unfamiliar number flashing on the screen.

Considering the limited number of contacts I have saved in my phone, I deduce that this call must be related to an order I've been expecting. I answer the call, And a soft voice greets me on the other end, belonging to a girl who seems eager to speak.

"Ah, hello," she says, her voice carrying a sense of excitement. "I'd like to order a painting."

Intrigued by her request, I find myself momentarily forgetting about the images on the wall and the file on the table. Instead, I focus my attention on this individual on the other side of the phone.

I asked the girl on the phone, "Can you share with me your emotions?"

In response, she started to speak rapidly, expressing, "I am overwhelmed with emotions at the moment, and I find it hard to put them into words. I am also curious about understanding my emotions, which is why I am interested in this artwork. I am eager to explore the range of emotions I am experiencing. Let me begin to describe them to you. Please make a note of them, okay? I am feeling a mix of despair, happiness, and fear right now. I crave love in my life, yet there are moments when I feel like I can do without it. I am puzzled by my own emotions. Just capture all of this," she paused, taking a deep breath.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I jotted down her array of emotions.

"I will do my best. I will let you know once it's done," I assured her.

"Oh my goodness, thank you so much! I am beyond grateful. I don't know how to repay you. Oh, I almost forgot to ask, how much will this painting cost?"She immediately exclaimed, and her words made me giggle for some reason.

"Why are you laughing?" she inquired with a soft voice. "Is the cost really that high that it's beyond my means?"

Responding to her concerns, I offered reassurance, "No, it's not as expensive as you think. Depending on how you feel, the price ranges around xxx ."

Relieved by my response, she let out a sigh and said, "Thank goodness, I can afford it."

"By the way, could you please share your name with me so I can recognize you when you come for the painting?" I asked.

After a brief pause, she ended the call with a contemplative "hmm." Meanwhile, I found myself simply staring at the screen of my phone, unsure of what to do next. Suddenly, a message from her appeared on the screen, breaking the silence.

Curiosity piqued, I eagerly opened the message and read the words,

"'Natasha' is my name."

Reading those four words repeatedly, I sensed that she had given me a false name. Her peculiar actions brought a chuckle to my lips as I securely tucked my phone back into the left pocket of my pants.

5:30pm

I decided to take a leisurely stroll through the nearby neighborhood park. As I step outside, I inhale deeply, allowing the fresh evening air to fill my lungs. The park is bathed in a soft golden glow as the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the grass.

I start my walk, my footsteps echoing softly on the pavement. As I make my way through the park, I take in the sights and sounds around me. The chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze, and the distant laughter of children playing in the playground.

As I continue my stroll, my gaze sweeps across the park, taking in the various scenes unfolding before me. And then, something catches my eye. A young child, full of energy and excitement, dashing towards his parents. His tiny legs carry him swiftly, his face beaming with joy.

I watch as his mother, with open arms, scoops him up into a warm embrace, showering him with kisses. His father, standing nearby, can't help but pinch his cheeks affectionately.

Unbeknownst to me, a single tear escapes my eye, rolling down my cheek. I quickly turn my head, hoping no one notices, and take a few deep breaths to compose myself. And decide it's time to head back home.

After arriving home, I made my way to the room that I had meticulously designed to resemble the gallery. As I entered, I couldn't help but notice that my heartbeat was racing at an alarming rate. The mere thought of them sent shivers down my spine, making me want to let out a scream. I desperately tried to push them out of my mind, not wanting to dwell on the memories.

However, it seemed that my heart had a mind of its own today. It stubbornly refused to listen to reason, reminding me of just how much I missed them.

As I swung open the door, a heavy sigh escaped my lips. Once again, the sight of the pictures I had taped on the walls came into view, causing my heart to boil with burning rage. The sorrow of losing my parents because of them, the anger towards these fuckers who took them away from me, makes me want to rip their hearts out from their chests.

I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white as I fought the urge to tear my hair out. The anger pulsated through my veins, turning my face a deep shade of crimson.

I took a deep breath, hoping to calm the storm raging inside me, but it seemed futile, but memories flooded my mind with fragments of cherished memories. Each glimpse brought forth a rush of emotions, reminding me of all the wonderful experiences and time I had shared with them. Unable to contain my sorrow any longer, a tear escaped my eye and trickled down my cheek, mirroring the intensity of my pounding heart.

Tears cascade down my cheeks as I release a loud scream, scattering every file which is on the table, unable to control my patience, my beating heart, my boiling blood. I collapsed onto the floor, my elbows resting on my knees, my hands still clutching at my hair. The tears continued to flow, my other hand automatically moving to cover my heart. "Mom, Dad, the pain of missing you is too much to bear," I cry uncontrollably.

"The idea of facing this harsh world without you fills me with dread and hopelessness."

I clench my fists and begin to hit my chest, as if attempting to physically ease the emotional pain.

"Mom Dad, the agony is overwhelming. It's tearing me apart," I murmur, my voice quivering with each word spoken to them, even if only in my mind.

After what seems like an endless period of tears and grief, I eventually pull myself together and try to regain control of my emotions.

It was the final moment that my tears fell for them, my heart consumed by a single, intense emotion: hatred. Hatred for those who snatched my parents away from me, who tore apart the fabric of our lives with their cruel actions.

I made a solemn vow. I vowed on the memory of my dead parents, who had taught me the values of love, loyalty, and justice, the emotions I think I've lost now that I would not rest now until every person of his family met their end.

I reach into my pocket and retrieve my mobile phone. With a trembling hand from anger, I wipe away the remnants of tears that have stained my cheeks, a testament to the pain and anger that have fueled my desire for revenge. The time has come, and I can no longer contain my eagerness to witness their fear, to see them tremble before me.

Unlocking my phone, I navigate to my contacts and search for the person who has trained me for this moment of revenge. In the past, I had severed this connection, needing time to heal but I didn't heal. And now, I am ready to unleash the fury that has been brewing inside me.

With a deep breath, I press the call icon next to their name. The sound of the ringing fills my ears, echoing the anticipation that courses through my veins. One ring... Two rings... Three rings... Finally, the call is answered on the other end.

Taking a moment to steady myself, I speak into the phone, my voice filled with determination and resolve. "I'm ready, Suga hyung."

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲𝐲 (𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝)

#jungkook ff #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts x oc #book series #bts series #jungkook series #thriller #jungkook angst #angst #action #sorrowful love #tumblr writers #ff writer #first person #multiple povs #pov story #jungkook au #oc #original character

[missamyrisa2]

The Tickle Factory: After Hours (part 1)

Sooo~ if you missed it, please go see the artwork @CrystalStarlight4657 drew for me in a trade. This is a story I decided to write to go with the art! I'm not quite sure where to go from where I left off, specifically with regards to what further tickles and rooms await me in the factory. Part 2 will come soon, but I'm also very open to any ideas you all might have ~ if there's any tickles you'd love to see me inflict on myself, now's the time! ART TRADE: Miss Amy Gets Tickles by CrystalStarlight4657 on DeviantArt The boy kicked his feet uselessly, the fuzzy clamps on his ankles buzzed for that extra bit of teasing as the technicians worked their precision feathery spinners to polish under his toes. Above, the teasing engine hovered and smirked with its robotic face as it lowered a venus milking machine onto the boy's swelling princely part. In the nearby displays, stats piled up on the progress of this product.

  One row down, a girl whimpered wantingly as the wide painter's brush dipped slowly into the massage oil in front of her before resuming its course to coat her girly button in long strides as she lay spread in the padded apparatus. Twin toothbrushes adorned with hearts alternated on her thighs, playing them as instruments while a twirling q-tip darted in and out of her navel whilst robotic hands massaged her nipples in slow rotating patterns.

  The Giggle Sandwich was in full effect today, with a perfectly matched pair of products strapped into the padded bread slices with their bodies aligned - a perfect match of chest buttons and royal part alignment. They frantically made their sensual union as the tickle tools moved into action on their feet, sides, and underarms to facilitate a gorgeous double ticklegasm. Passing technicians couldn't help but stop and awe when such a successful match was made, some reaching in to tickle a belly or thighs as their bodies gyrated and made ticklish love to one another~

As each process concluded, the overloaded products were brought to their final inspection. Some wheeled up by their tickly machine, others arriving by conveyor, dropping in from feathery tubes or supported by tickle techs. Miss Amy smiled brightly and worked from her purpley throne, waving the inspection feather as she signed approvals on her tablet. "And you enjoyed your visit today? Mmmhm. Yes, you are quite ticklish aren't you. Did that tickle? And you'll be returning tomorrow. Oh, that wasn't a question." She carefully examined all the tickle spots, ensuring the quality of the work was present ~ delightfully twitching and pinkened blushy skin, gaspy satisfied breaths, still-quivering thighs. It was all so routine and yet still so amazing.

  With a stretch, Amy yawned and plopped back onto her chair, and began closing the facility for the evening. "That's a wrap my lovelies. Another giggly day in the snickerbooks." Her purple plume deposited into the chair's side compartment with a plonk as her tablet fell into a deep restful slumber. "Rest well, tomorrow will be beautiful too~" The lights of the factory's central room clanged off one by one as her blonde hair vanished into the shadows. On the opposite side, voices began as faint lights gathered together.

  "Poor poor Miss Amy." A tech murmured, setting aside their polishing tool. "Miss Amy works so hard to bring so many tickles but she has no tickles of her own." The tease bot chirped, grooming its fuzzy appendages to make them shimmer in the dark.

The bots and techs nodded in agreement, the scanner bots from above blinked and buzzed, their robotic voices speaking through their halting tones. "Suggest unplanned party. Miss Amy gives nice place. We give nice place back."

"Yes! A delightful surprise party! That's just what we can do!" The techs hopped excitedly, immediately going to work. The lights came back on, and the residents of the Tickle Factory began their long night of planning.

  Indeed the next day was beautiful too. Viable honeypots were arriving left and right. Peg bots were given their day in the sun, working their vibrating rotating apparatuses into writhing  peaches as the tease bots flittered about, tickling royal buttons all along the way. By the end of the evening, it was a conga line of teased gasping moaning laughs. Amy strolled up and down excitedly recording testimonials from each boy and girl as their royal areas were explored thoroughly by each peg bot.

  With the final product surveyed and packaged off, Amy slowly began moving towards her chair. An excited beep filled the air as one bot couldn't contain their excitement. A tech hissed and nonchalantly resumed taking apart their feather rod as Amy looked over. As she took one more step, Amy found herself dropping through the floor. Her surprised screams vanished into the factory as the workers nodded knowingly to one another.

  Amy looked around and shook her head. She sat at the entranceway to the factory. "Heyy! If that's a new shortcut, give me a little warning next time will ya?" She made to walk out the fuzzy front door and found it wouldn't budge. "Uh~ hmm" Amy spun on her platform sandals and looked at the entranceway. Hearing a hum deep in the bowels of the factory, her tummy visibly skipped from under her cropped top. "Ooohh~ doodlebugs~" she murmured as the doors clanged open and ol' Clampy snatched her up, yanking her through the air. "Hey stop ittt! We're done for the day and as if you don't know, I'm your boss!!" The factory's greeter paid no heed and tossed Amy onto a waiting conveyor, the "golden" line - a sparkling purple belt reserved for only the most prized tickle products.

She gasped and tried to still her nerves, feeling the rush of air coating over her exposed spots. "Okkay. Just a teeny malfunction. Let's try the override. Oh right. No tablet. Umm. Welp. Guess we're dancing~" The techs and bots laughed watching their leader shimmy and wiggle and bounce on the conveyor as she was whisked into the factory. The entire staff was gathered for this party, their tools and processes all ready to take their part. Amy squealed as she slid onto the scanning platform. It rose up and the red eyes of the scan bots winked into existence.

  "Hey guys. I think we've have a malfunction you see, well of course that's all you do is see. So you can see we have a bit of a seeeeea foammm on my belly that's an oceannn of madnessss thigh master on my kneeeeboneee!" She sang out, her body quivering as two sets of scanning beams fired and began crawling over her exposed tummy, down her legs over each foot and back up again, scanning her chest and underarms and face. Her voice squeaked and babbled through the tingly tickles, feeling every spot being inspected and cataloged under those giant curious orbs.

And she knew it wasn't over. Special subjects get extra inspections. Robotic hands slid into view. Their extended index fingers slithered over each extra tingly spot, and began slowly rising and falling. A finger was on each side. One at her bellybutton. Several lined up on her thighs. A pair under each set of toes. One in each underarm, on her neck and even her cheeks. "Nnnh. That's not necessary you have my data already you didn't even need to scann that's mmmh not the not the ttttttapppening!!" The fingers began working, tapping slowly - sometimes all at once, sometimes in patterns. They barely moved, barely touched, only slightly tapped on each tickle spot to remind a wiggly product of all the spots that will be exploited.

  And then one more hand arrived - one especially for Amy and her particular inclinations. "Don't you daree!! It's not even a tickle spot you can't touch it!" Her hips bucked in protest as the hand nonetheless centered on her flower-shaped belt buckle and began tapping. The reminder of her sensitivity there, the attention, it was so much to bear. Amy's cackling squeaking giggles filled the scanning room. The platform lowered and she left already snickery mess ~ In the next chamber Amy was deposited onto a new apparatus. "Huhh? This is ~new? Heyy now that's not authorized you can't make purpley cute get ups like this without me? I mean it's not without me oh gosh it's with me this was made for meee?" Blush spread hotly on her still-giggling face as the weight of the situation finally rested on her twitching tummy. Amy found herself sitting with legs gently spread up on padded poles as tubes came down to snatch and support her arms. From afar, the Tease Bot slid in, that smirking face looking more excited than usual. "I shoulda known~ you are in sooo much trouble TB~"

"This is all for you Miss Amy~"

"Huuhh? Let lemme goo~ that's mmmh okay okay okayyy those are feathers!" She protested as adorably fluffy feathers fluttered down and began cresting at her sides.

  "Tickles for our favorite girl."

Amy slipped a giggling whimper as techs stomped into the room, holding up their tools. "Just hussh! Yyou know I don't do praise!!"

The tease bot lowered and began stroking her cheeks and petting her hair. "Now, now. Don't fret sweet girly girl. You're an adorable butterfly. So giggly and cute and amazingly sweet."

"Staahahpit don'tttt not the verbal overloadd! I wrote this processsss!" Amy's protests were soon drowned by bashful giggles as the bot deployed a makeup brush on one ear and a feather on the other, tracing the curvatures as sweet words were buzzed into her.

"You do so much for us, now relax and let us do you." The techs celebrated, firing their feather cannons into the air making multicolored rainbows of fluff. Amy struggled on the new apparatus, feathers probing between her toes as techs plucked away her footwear. Robotic hands began squeezing her sides and digging into her underarms. Amy's legs and arms pulled uselessly. She cackled and fell apart, her words already a stream of nonsense. "Stiiiip that's myyy butterfly wings on the nectar whhhyy my pockets are sooo fuzzy fiery I'm gonna nnh moonwalk the foxtrottt!~"

  "And polka the salsa" Her lead tickle tech replied sassily, matching her singsong as they fired up the toe buffer. The Tickle Boas snaked in from above, a new addition all so eager to prove their worth to the boss. Their spectrums of colors slithered around Amy's neck and down her arms, leaving endless trails of tickled sensitive skin. Down below, two more robotic hands wiggled their fingers teasingly, hovering until Amy's eyes saw them at which they streaked wildly into her shorts, tickling at her thighs earnestly.

  At times the denizens would retract momentarily, watching in delight as the scan bots stopped by to confirm her tickle spots again, and again. The crews of the factory couldn't get enough of those addictive boss giggles. Sometimes it was just the techs, holding automatic whirling tickle tools to her belly and navel and under her knees. Then the Tease Bot would go full bore, deploying a swarm of tickle hands to massage all of Amy's body from between her toes to her thighs and tummy and even her royal buttons as her top was rolled up. But she knew one worker still had yet to show her face~ and these tickles were certainly working up Amy's body to that routine~

In the distance, a peculiar smacking sound cut through Amy's babbles and laughs and the all the buzzing and swishy sounds. "Ooh. I think she's ready for you Miss Amy. Have a delightful date!" The techs cheered as Amy was whisked further into the factory. The next stop on the boss's tour was a room loaded with a sweet smelling aroma. The relax salon sat surrounded by more overtly torturous chambers, but Amy knew this one was possibly the worst of all~ she was deposited on a simple soft chair, shiny restraints slid over her wrists and ankles, padded ever so soft underneath. The smacking sound grew closer until the door finally slid open.

  "Okayyy I should have known you'd be in on this too but c'mon ~ didn't I fill your room all week with bashful guys and girls? That one guy oh man, he was a wreck wasn't he? Like what a cutie pie, I could just breath on him after and he was like that tiiickles your breath is tickling meee!" Amy tried to laugh and joke out of the predicament, but the owner of this room couldn't be reasoned with. She looked on the endless swarm of kissing lush lips and let out a soft giggling whimper. With a wall of "muah muah muah" sounds lips of all varying colors descended.

  The other residents watched in delight from the displays, seeing little but Amy's fingers outstretched in tickly shock, her toes wiggling, and blonde hair flying around as the machine gang kissed her relentlessly. Amy cackled and gasped, so many smooching soft lips pressing to her neck and arms and cheeks, down her belly and sealing on her hips and thighs. Sets tasted her toes with cool affection. Any words she tried to form were cut off with "ooompppphh" as lips would quickly move to make out with her lips each time. And all the while, the residents watched the progress as Amy became overloaded, and her princess part more prominent in those little shorts~

[luciernagadelencanto]

Nina's Story TV Tropes

Had some fun putting together a list of Tropes that might be found in Nina and Bruno's storyline.

Because why not. XD

A Mistake Is Born: A character is unwanted by their family or the character is unplanned.

Relative Ridicule: Making fun of someone's family members, or mocking them for whom they are related to.

Give the Baby a Father: A woman is pregnant and a man who's not the father proposes to her to protect her honor in a society that frowns on sex/conception outside of marriage. (Nina's "step"father steps up)

Bespectacled Cutie: A sweet bespectacled character that's adorable because of their glasses.

Blind Without 'Em: A character who wears glasses can't see a thing without them on.

Glasses Are Sexy: (more accurately, The Glasses Stay On)

Animal Lover

Beautiful Singing Voice: A character is acknowledged in-universe as having a great singing voice.

Friendship Trinket: (Necklace of a piece of vision tablet from Bruno, she wears every day after her quinces, even before realizing her feelings are romantic)

Accidental Hand-Hold: Moment where two characters end up locking hands with each other when they reach for the same item.

Age-Gap Romance: Romance where one partner is notably older or younger than the other.

Anchored Ship: A potential romantic pairing that's been put on hold.

Manic Pixie Dream Girl: attractive, energetic, high on life, full of wacky quirks and idiosyncrasies (generally including childlike playfulness). Obsessed with our hero, on whom she will focus her kuh-razy antics until he learns to live freely and love madly.

Rebellious Spirit: A character who doesn't abide by the rules.

Black Sheep

Small Town, Big Hell: has its own drama since everyone knows each other, and so when something happens (usually something bad), the whole town gets the news and everyone takes sides

There Are No Therapists

Oblivious to Love: (Bruno is oblivious to the fact that she's in love with him)

The Chaste Hero: (Her future partner, Bruno, really)

Will They or Won't They?

Animal Motif/Animal Metaphor: (Fireflies, additionally sometimes goats)(in love with someone with many rats)

Color Motif: (Green to match love interest, represents strangeness, down-to-earth nature, connection to main animal motif)

Motif Merger: (Both wear green, hourglasses and infinity symbols look similar, though represent seemingly opposite things, till you turn it on its side.)

Symbol Motif Clothing: (Infinity symbols and fireflies) (Bruno wears hourglasses)

Leitmotif: (If she had one, it'd be pan pipes with spanish guitar)

Single Woman Seeks Good Man

She Is All Grown Up

Secret Relationship

Happily Married: (eventually)

If It's You, It's Okay: A lover who defies usual gender preferences.

Outdoorsy Gal: A girl who would rather play outside than inside.

Tomboy with a Girly Streak: A tomboy with possibly a girly interest or two.

Single-Target Sexuality: (Bruno is demisexual)

Cute Bruiser: Cute, young/youthful-appearing character (often female) capable of kicking ass and taking a hit.

Dude, She's A Lesbian: A person is informed that the person he is hitting on is gay. (While Nina's actually Bi, she is more promiscuous with women in her youth, leading her love interest to believe she is lesbian)

Archnemesis Dad: (Birth father is a terrible person, and eventually finds the crack in the mountain, returning and meeting his daughter.)

I Am Not My Father

Cool Aunt: (Becomes the cool aunt with no kids of her own)

Family Business: (Family owns/runs a farm)

Why Did It Have to Be Snakes?: I've got a very specific phobia that I'm too scared to even talk about! (Water, she will not swim)

Not Wanting Kids Is Weird: (Ridiculed for inability to/disinterest in having children)

#Nina Cabrera #encanto oc #bruno madrigal x oc #Brunina

[quickdeaths]

It's time for Summer Festival season to start! For all of the Danganronpa girls and a Cyber Angel, how are they spending their time at the festival? Who is trying out the carnival games, who is putting on an art or music performance, and who is making sure to sample everything at the food stands? Do they all stay for the fireworks? Who is enthusiastic about wearing a yukata or other traditional attire, and who prefers to wear their regular clothes?

(Am I asking for potential thread ideas? Possibly! Assume that if it's a Danganronpa girlie or chuuni I would like for Sonia to meet them. I almost went for Beach Episode headcanons that do not involve everyone trying to kill each other but festival tropes are fun too)

Rio is just having a good time. She has read some cute romantic manga chapters set during a summer festival to prepare herself just in case anyone wants to have a romantic night with her, but if it doesn't happen, she won't sweat it. With how busy she is most of the time, she's going to take the day easy, not pushing herself too hard, just enjoying everything that comes her way. Definitely she's chowing down on some festival food at a nice table, or in the shade under a nice tree, with some friends, and while she's probably not in the mood for a full yukata, she'll probably wear slacker traditional wear - something festive like a hapi or a kimono shirt, that looks cute without requiring much effort from her.

Once her legs get tired from walking around and seeing things, she'll find a place to sit with her Switch or her tablet to play some games, and probably will end up responding to some research emails even though she's supposed to be chilling. She might even fall asleep - be gentle in waking her up, please! She is so sleepytired. She might not make it to the fireworks, and if there's no one she has plans with, she'll say goodbye to her friends and classmates who might be wanting to pair up and be left alone, but either way, she'll make sure to stop by Akagi Bakery's stand on her way out to buy some sweets and say hello to a certain someone.

Tsubasa isn't a traditional person, and on the balance of things, a summer festival is just another day as it informs their opinion of society and tradition. However, the festival also correlates with lotes of pretty girls looking super cute and having fun, so they can let the festival origins slide on this one. Still, by skating around and jumping up on and off things, they're causing a lot of headaches for the festival organizers. They're horribly underdressed, too, given that they're wearing their normal pants with skate shoes, and then an open jacket and one of those goth mesh shirts over their binder.

After an easygoing afternoon of skating and winning prizes for cute girls at the game stands, they put in their headphones and skate off. They'd be down for a romantic moment with someone at the fireworks, but if that's not in the cards for them right now, they'll take advantage of everyone being huddled near the same place to go skate some of the places that they aren't supposed to. There's not a ton for them back at their apartment, though, so they'll stay out late, long after the fireworks are over and the festival grounds are cleared out, skating and hanging out with any other stragglers milling around.

Izumi is probably having a pretty anxious time (this is every time with her). She picked out a cute yukata and was excited to wear it, only to get nervous and hide out in a bathroom or behind a large tree. If she manages to calm down, she'll slink off to wherever there might be live music to listen and relax for a while. Her dad and her band members sent her encouraging messages to get out there and have fun, and she sends back smiling selfies making it look like she's having a good time, even if she's nervous and doesn't do well with large groups of people, or people she doesn't know very well.

If anyone is especially nice to her, she'll follow them around like a puppy until they tell her to go away. She doesn't really have any plans, so if there's nothing else to do, she might just lurk around some of the stalls selling things and pretend to be interested so that no one talks to her, but for some reason, she gets dragged into all kind of typical anime plotlines. If there's a band performance but they're in a bind because their guitarist couldn't make it, expect Izumi to end up volunteering before she can stop herself, performing, getting cheered, and then running off with a face as red as a tomato. As is usually the case with Izumi, she'll be stressed and anxious the entire day, but probably look back on it with fondness at how fun everything was when she's older.

Anzu is disappointed that there are no superlatives at the summer festival, but if she can't officially be the Best Dressed/Most Hotsexy, she will be so unofficially. She is dressed to the nines in a gorgeous yukata and a carefully coordinated makeup+accessories situation. Truthfully, she'd like to join in on some traditional singing and dancing, but she knows a particularly bratty rival will be there, and wouldn't want to be shown up on a stage by someone so obnoxious. Instead, she's flitting about, not staying in a single place for too long, making the rounds and talking to just about everyone. Even if she can be a bit much, Anzu makes friends easily - and if some hot boys flirt with her? All the better.

In the early evening, she's starring in some dramatic theatrical production tied to the festival's theme. As a professional, she probably shouldn't work for free, but as long as she was begged and appropriately flattered by the festival committee, she'll go along with it. Slowly and surely, she took over more of it, until she was the lead writer/director/starring role all at once, but even if some people are a little miffed about it, it's hard to deny the quality. Once that's all over, she washes off her makeup and takes her extensions out and finds a place to sit and watch the fireworks - or rather, watch other people watch the fireworks. People watching is a hobby that she doesn't get to indulge in as often recently, given her current Other Hobby of aggressively shipping her friends, but she's glad to indulge.

Shinobu, like Izumi, is probably having a bit of a rough festival. A number of their admirers have already built up a Romantic Festival Date in their head, and even if no such date has been agreed to, that's not liable to stop them. Shinobu probably won't have much time to enjoy herself at first, with obligations to those annoying girls eating into the schedule. Once she can get away, though, Shinobu will be rather solitary - eating some food, buying a thing or two, playing some games. In particularly, they linger near the accuracy games - air rifles, tossed rings, thrown balls - or scooping games where the "prize" is a goldfish of some kind. She doesn't really intend on taking them as pets, but asks that her winnings be held for her until the end of the festival, with intent to donate them to a pet store, school, or hobbyist group, rather than let them be taken by idiot teenagers who would probably get them killed in a day or two.

After that, she goes to see Anzu's production, probably sitting in the back as unassumingly as possible so as not to steal any of her best friend's strongly-desired attention. Once their dates have been attended to, some food purchased, some fish saved from irresponsibility, and Anzu's show attended, there's really no reason for Shinobu to stick around longer. Being reasonable, it would be a good idea to return home early, so as not to be scolded by her father for waking him up, or otherwise get into some kind of trouble. Furthermore, sticking around likely carries some sort of risk akin to the Valentine's Day Riot, with her company being fought over during the most important, most romantic part of the festival. The obvious thing to do is to just say goodbye to Anzu and leave.

Instead she goes to find a particular person and see if she'd like to watch the fireworks together.

#morethanaprincess #thanks for the ask! #c; the sun-slaying arrow #c; the heroine of a thousand faces #c; the princess of demons #c; the cyber angel #c; the corvid queen #these were a lot of fun to write up! thanks a lot!

[manamanadodoodadodoo]

There’s a deck of cards on the dresser. They say Independence on them and have a picture of the Liberty Bell, and they’re stupid thick like my The Dog cards were. I bet she got them when she and my parents went to Philadelphia, which means they got very well worn very fast because that was maybe a year before.

She liked neat things. There was a gadgets and gizmos toy in the closet. People would buy her crafty stuff bc she liked art but that wasn’t really her style. Her style was neat and delicate and just cool. Her bloody clothes are also still in the closet apparently, as is her backpack.

Ngl, a little bitter that she can leave her dirty laundry in the hamper for three fuckin years and it still doesn’t smell but my laundry gets stinky in like a week. Not. Fair.

I might like to read some of the books she read. I’ve got no clue how far through Warrior Cats she got but I’m sure that won’t matter. Although I might be a little old for those now who knows.

I don’t feel her anymore. It’s okay? But also I don’t like that at all. I used to be able to start a conversation in the car and know what she was saying back. I used to feel her still like watching TV with us or hanging out at events. I don’t feel her anymore. I miss her quiet presence in a room, just chillin w her tablet minding her own business.

I put the oils or whatever in the diffuser I got her for Christmas. She hasn’t even opened the refill container. I don’t know if she ever used it but it makes me think of her. And it makes her room smell nice. Her room smells nice anyways, but still.

I’ve gotta get into art again. Show her who’s boss. Also use up some of the stuff we have before it goes bad, even though it’s probably already going bad. I don’t think I ever saw her paint now that I think about it.

I hate how used to life without her I’ve gotten. It’s a sign of healing and growth and moving on and all of those are wonderful things. But I want to bring her with me.

Two new babies in the next generation. And the little cousins are gonna be her age and beyond before I even know it. It’s terrifying how life just goes on as if it doesn’t matter that she’s being left behind.

Come visit sometime little girlie

#Bridget #grief

[jewelsunrays]

My brother asked me about my Stranger Things shirt. I lied and said I got it a year ago because I wanted the conversation to be over quickly. It was probably more like 3/4/5 years ago. He either wanted one for himself, or thought it was brand new and mum bought me it, and he hates when she does that. Either way, strangest interaction of the day.

I love acrylic nails, I think they look so pretty. About a month ago I wore these long pink nails with white french tips, I felt so pretty. The thing is, I totally had a meltdown because I couldn’t type and stabbed myself while wiping and tried prying them off my fingers after like 3 days. The other girlies make them look so easy to deal with. I suppose it comes with practise but man I’m jealous how they can pull them off and go about their daily lives without complaint. My short scabby fingernails do not look good. :[

My friends talk about religion a lot. We started talking about how bizarre it is - again. It always ends up just being how much it sucks, basically. Anyway, the topic of heaven came up and I almost started crying, lame. I used to be so sure of my beliefs when it came to religion and death - I had this sure unmoving argument and mindset about what I truly believed happened, and stuck with it. Then Dad died, and my entire world felt like it shifted on its axis. I don’t care whether God is real, what religion is right or wrong, the true meaning of good or bad. All I care about now is that Dad is in a good place where he no longer has to take a thousands tablets or go to the hospital or feel ill. I don’t care whether he upset me or if he wasn’t the best sometimes, whether I even knew him well enough or deserved more time. Because obviously I did. And obviously his happy place should be with us. But realistically I don’t know enough about the other religions to know what the best place is for my father, all I know is I loved him to bits and I think he should be in heaven regardless of fucking morals or any of the other shit. He should be in heaven. He is. Enough said. I don’t care if that makes me another Christian that my friends think the morals of are stupid, I don’t care if it means I have to believe in God, whatever! I just want him to be in a good place. Heaven sounds like it might be good enough for him.

[sunflowerharrington]

Hey babe <3

Soft Kai headcanons? No rush

Love you

firstly, i love you too babes!! <3

wc - around 740 i think

notes - sorry not sorry xoxo

warning(s) - tw mention of murder, and also kai anderson obviously, one mention of lingerie

here he is, the main man of this post himself. mr kool kid with a k 😎

girlies, gays and theys, welcome to my unhinged headcanons about (blue-haired) kai anderson that are true because i said so and what i say in this post goes :)

~ and also because i’m having a moment of absolute “what the fuck-ery” right now for no reason. i’m taking absolutely no criticisms here, thank you :) ~

— still can't tie his fucking shoelaces

— manchild

— has posters of himself all over his bedroom, because what absolute madlad doesn’t?

— puts on a fucking performance in the shower. i’m talking christina aguilera here. i’m talking beyoncé and rihanna. not their songs but he goes above and beyond singing in the shower, and you’d find that so cute if you caught him

— …but it’s ONLY when he’s alone, or so he thinks sometimes

— is a pro at the google dinosaur run game that comes up when there’s no internet available

— would low-key do this when alone, like completely completely alone; vibing to doja cat while he’s working out at the gym. and wrecking ball by miley cyrus.

“…call him ed sheeran he’s in love with my body, they say i just got a buck yeah get into it, yuh. pop out with a truck— WHAT THE FUCK HARRISON? NO, I'M NOT LISTENING TO THAT SHIT. IT’S A SONG ABOUT WORLD DOMINATION!! NOO, IT'S NOT BY A GIRL! bitches can’t sing, my child.”

— […britney spears…👀]

— can almost instantly hack into somebody’s phone, laptop, tablet or any other sort of technology HAHA NERD

— small dick energy but has a fucking sledgehammer

— “…don’t listen to rap music!” listens to it. probably kanye west, because who doesn’t love yeezus? i mean kai thinks he’s god, kanye thinks he’s jesus… i’m trying to make a point here but it’s not working help 😭🫠

— also looks on facebook for hot single moms to fuck. preferably milfs

— “he’s cooooraliiine!” 🎶

— (totally bought some of belle delphine’s bathwater when that was a thing 🤭)

— had a bowl cut when he was a lickle baba and, like everyone in the world ever except jeff pfister and mutt nutter, absolutely hated bowl cuts

— “lost his virginity” to a pillow. not really, but that’s what i think

— is a pro at mario kart and can beat anyone at it, except me. i’m a champion at that game, i swear it babes

— commitment issues

— *whispers* daddy issues…

OKAYY I'M DONE WITH THE UNHINGED ONES, here’s some soft!kai headcanons for my love, meg :)

— brushes your hair sometimes, and braids it

— you’re sitting on the floor on a cushion between his legs as his fingers dance through your hair, braiding away the strands of hair from around your face…

— throws temper tantrums but sometimes if he’s feeling like a human he’ll let you run your hands through his hair to calm him down

— thinks your massages are fucking deadly when you do them (deadly means good. it’s just the kind of slang i use)

— takes you out on dates every so often and steals some of your fries if you get fries, but you think it’s cute because it’s so obvious he’s doing it

— he will fall in love with you if you like mountain dew and cheetos, absolutely no hesitation. he’d never admit it though

— and if you have the same views as him, god, you’re his for life

— likes to have you sitting on his lap during cult meetings sometimes to show the other men and women that you’re his number one, though he does preach about equality

— also will not hesitate to murder anyone who tries to hurt you (except winter. if winter ever hurt you [which imo i don’t think she would on purpose] then kai would say it’s your fault, but other than that…)

— if he’s feeling extra nice he might buy you a gift or something; and by that i mean either some lingerie or something that could be put on you to make you appear even more sexy in his mind. he buys it for you but really it’s for him. but it’s the thought that counts!

— and might even call you mrs anderson during a cult meeting to see how you’d react, though he’d never want to marry anybody, he still considers the thought of it

— nicknames for you include; his angel, his little lamb, his princess, his goddess (if he’s feeling a lil spicy). always has to have ‘his’ in front of it, though. you are his, after all

— matching tattoos? matching tattoos. maybe one on y’all’s pinky fingers to signify a deeper, more emotional connection— according to kai

okayy, i’m done for now but i might come back and add more tomorrow it’s currently like almost 3AM and i am KNACKERED, babes

@xxlangdon @sympathyforher @unlivingdreams @quickiesgirl @langdon-cumslut my lovelies

#american horror story #ahs #kai anderson #ahs cult #ahs fanfic #ahs fandom #ahs headcanon #kai anderson headcanons #chaotic evil coraline : kai anderson

[scuttling]

(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #dad bod hotch

[charlotte-headcanons]

I wonder if some of siblings with twins, triplets, and others get along well. We know the monster triplet seems close to each other, decuplets get along well, just some silly siblings fights, sometimes, Smoothie with Citron and Cinnamon, they just argue when she used her devil fruit power on their subordinates to take the energy to her attacks, Chiffon still loves Lola even after leaving the family. But I wonder how is Cracker with Custard and Angel, Brulee with Broye, and Opera in his group of quintuplets.

Thank you for this ask, anon, that one was super fun to figure out! 💕 We decided to go through all the twin/triplet/etc. groups in the Charlotte family and describe their relations quickly. Naturally, then ❗long post ahead❗

Enjoy! ✨

Group 1: Katakuri/Daifuku/Oven

This three get along great and are indeed, very close to each other. Despite their personality differences, they spent a lot of time together already in childhood and even now they make sure that they find moments to cherish in each other's presence often. Katakuri feels more comfortable around these two than around most, especially since they both know his secret and never judged him for his mouth. Oven and Daifuku find him amazing, sure, but they also still treat him as their brother, not an unattainable ideal, and that allows Katakuri to somewhat relax.

Group 2: Mondee/Amande/Hachee/Effilee

Although Mondee is unstoppable in her efforts to bring these four closer together, being a bit jealous of some other twin/triplet/quadruplet sets, Amande, Hachee, and Effilee are all individualists and quite distinct personalities. Therefore, they might have a bit of a soft spot for each other, but these quadruplets only properly hang out once every three months or so; always from Mondee's initiative.

Group 3: Opera/Counter/Cadenza/Cabaletta/Gala

This group definitely likes to hang out together! They aren't super close and they don't know a lot about each other's personal problems or private life, but they do enjoy regular activities that they can do together: like brawl fights or going out for a few drinks. However, Opera is always a bit out of place in the group. Since he doesn't so much enjoy the same things the others like, they sometimes don't even bother inviting him, and they might be kind of jealous that out of all of them, he was the one who received a Devil Fruit. Gala always brings attention to it, trying not to exclude Opera, but sometimes, unfortunately, he still gets left out.

Group 4: Cracker/Custard/Angel

In their childhood, Custard and Angel got along well, but Cracker was always annoyed by the two and their constant attempts to play with his hair, put flower crowns on him, and more of that girly shit he loathed. Now, Angel changed quite a bit, toughened up, and became known as a kind of feral gal, who loves her triplets, but might sometimes scare/disgust while trying to make them tougher. In effect, Custard and Cracker grew ever so slightly closer. It helps that the girls stopped trying to girlify him, too.

Group 5: Brulee/Broye

Personality-wise, these two are polar opposites. Generally, Broye pities Brulee for not having found a husband yet, as well as for how her lifestyle usually looks like: rather than cooking and gardening she prefers partying and flirting, rather than living in an unpretentious hut, she prefers glamour. Brulee, on the other hand, is always nice to Broye and likes her, however, their relationship grew a bit awkward ever since Broye caught her staring at a wedding dress and bought her one, claiming that 'she's never going to get married anyway, so she may as well just wear it now'. Brulee knows that her twin meant well and thus wears the dress to this day (was it just us or did Brulee's first dress really look like a wedding dress); still she can't help but feel slightly hurt.

Group 6: Nusstorte/Basskarte/Dosmarche

These three see each other mostly as rivals, plain and simple. Basskarte is especially salty that the other two received Minister positions while he didn't, but even between Nusstorte and Dosmarche you can expect only constant attempts to one the other up rather than any sibling closeness.

Group 7: Moscato/Mash/Cornstarch

Moscato and Cornstarch adore each other! They're both idealists and wholesome people, so they can talk with each other for hours and feel very comfortable with each other's presence. Now, Mash is slightly excluded from this: they still like her and are always nice to her, but don't hang out with her half as often. She doesn't mind, though; she prefers Broye to those softies anyway.

Group 8: Compo/Laurin

Compo is very protective of Laurin. Despite only being minutes older than him and despite his short height, he always makes sure no one makes fun of his twin, and has a sixth sense for when the latter is uncomfortable. In return, Laurin is very grateful, and if he could ever return all the favors, he would.

Group 9: Mozart/Marnier

These two are your like, most typical ✨twinsies✨ sisters. They like to wear matching outfits sometimes, they gossip with each other lots, and generally they get along great; although, unlike some other twins on this list, they do have their own, separate lives.

Group 10: High Fat/Tablet

High Fat and Tablet probably have the worst relationship from all the siblings on this list. Even more opposite than Brulee and Broye, they disliked each other since early childhood, when Tablet relentlessly picked on High Fat, and the latter interpreted what Tablet thought was merely playful as outright cruel. As a result of their different perception on things, their antipathy only grew, and they prefer not to talk these days if it can be avoided.

Group 11: Smoothie/Citron/Cinnamon

Smoothie, Citron, and Cinnamon are each other's favorite people, full stop. They all have similar views on life, know each other's secrets, and they love their dynamic; in this dynamic, Smoothie normally takes on a role of the leader, with Cinnamon and Citron often looking for her approval and even mimicking her sometimes, but all this happens without them ever feeling consciously like there is any clear hierarchy.

Group 12: Saint-Marc/Basans

In their childhood, Saint-Marc and Basans were often confused due to their similar facial features. This experience left them bitter, so now, despite not hating each other, they both really try to stand out from the other. For Saint-Marc, the armor was a method; Basans went so far as to wear fake horns, being quite happy whenever it was assumed that Melise was his real sister.

Group 13: Galette/Poire

Poire likes Galette, even with the latter's anxiety and all. Galette, in return, is always kind to Poire, however, she cannot help but be overly stressed out by her sister's often dangerous ways of life. While Mont d'Or is a calming presence for Galette, Poire heightens her worries, so she'd rather hang out with the older brother, all things considered.

Group 14: Snack/Bavarois

Similarly to the first set of quintuplets, Snack and Bavarois like to share fast food or a few drinks, but don't necessarily tell each other much about their life, or their hopes and fears. Their hang out sessions are a bit rarer than for the quintuplets, though, even if they became more frequent when Snack lost his Sweet Commander post.

Group 15: Prim/Praline

Prim always looked at Praline from above, being both smarter and stronger than her. Still, their relations were somewhat amicable until Praline's betrayal. They used to enjoy at least shopping for clothes together, but now, Prim is pissed that Praline left, without telling her, taking with her a large portion of Totto's underwater population, and leaving her behind for Mama to take out her rage on her. If they meet again, Prim will not hold back and will definitely attack Praline just like the rest of her family, if not even more viciously.

Group 16: Kanten/Kato/Montb

Those three are completely neutral in their relations. They have distinct goals in life and personalities, and don't really think of each other as 'their kind of person' but can definitely have a friendly small talk when they meet; which happens rather rarely, considering they don't really seek these meetings out.

Group 17: Chiffon/Lola

As we all know, Chiffon and Lola love each other lots! Chiffon was always very protective of her younger sister and supported her fully in pursuing her dreams; little Lola, on the other hand, would beat up anyone who even looked at her twin wrongly. Since Lola left, they missed each other plenty, but Chiffon never blamed her for leaving and was just very happy to be reunited with her eventually.

Group 18: Mobile/Marble/Myukuru/Maple

These quadruplets get along in pairs. Mobile and Maple like each other lots and hang out with each other plenty, and so do Marble and Myukuru; however, between these two groups, there's little care and more of a neutral outlook.

Group 19: Mascarpone/Joscarpone

Mascarpone and Joscarpone are essentially inseparable. They know everything each other, finish each other's sentences, share literally everything (including clothes), and could be easily confused if not for their different gender. If you tried to keep them apart even for a few days, they'd probably be very uncomfortable and feel lonelier than ever.

Group 20: Newichi/Newji/Newsan/Newshi/Newgo/Nutmeg/Akimeg/Allmeg/Harumeg/Fuyumeg

The decuplets generally all tolerate each other, but hate to be confused. Overall, the boys get along, and so do the girls, but they don't mingle beyond these groups so much, with the exception of Newshi and Harumeg, who are best friends. There is just quite a bit of rivalry between the boys and the girls; they can cooperate great in fives, but as a whole 10-person group they might struggle to communicate all that well.

Group 21: Dolce/Dragee

Basically Mascarpone and Joscarpone on steroids. These two literally speak in unison at times, have their own secret communication system, sometimes switch their clothes which makes everyone confuse them, and get completely miserable and shy whenever separated. We'll see if they grow out of it ever or not!

Aaaaand there you have it! Congrats to everyone who got through the entire post, here's your supreme Charlotte family fan medal 🎖️ hope you enjoyed! 💕

#one piece #charlotte katakuri #charlotte oven #charlotte daifuku #charlotte cracker #charlotte brulee #charlotte smoothie #charlotte praline #charlotte chiffon #charlotte lola #charlotte galette #charlotte moscato #charlotte opera #and manyyy more #whole cake island #ask

[hourglassstationacademy]

𝗕𝗜𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗟 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

Name: April Richter

Based on: Mac from Cuphead, Scanty from PSG

Nicknames: Lucky 7, Lady of Roulette (Flynn), Apple Girly (Dorothea), 

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿: Demigirl

𝗔𝗴𝗲: 17 (???) 

𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆: 8th of August 

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻: Leo

𝗛𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁: 157 cm

𝗘𝘆𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿: pale turquoise green,yellowgreen

𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿: Mint green

Race: Jinx Demon

Species: Sinner Type

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𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗦

𝗗𝗼𝗿𝗺: Höllejigoku  @sakurablossoms10

𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿: first year

C𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀: 1-C

𝗢𝗰𝗰𝘂𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: Student

𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯: Botany Club

𝗕𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁: Mental arts

Homeland: Dungeon Land levels (third level)

Sexuality: Lesbian

.

.

𝗙𝗨𝗡 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗦:

𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱: right

𝗙𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱:  Apples, roasted fruits, Flambé food, Raw monster flesh,

𝗟𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱: anchovy, frogs,

Likes: Luck games, Macie's Music (in secret), Shooting games, Growing plants, green things (overall)

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀: Black cats, Kome (given her luck), Yaeko (same reason), being underestimated, being treated like a kid, mentions of Angels, 

𝗛𝗼𝗯𝗯𝘆: Botany, practicing gambling on her Tablet, Analyzing Trends,

𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀: Pistol mastery, Mental Manipulation, Whistling

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬:

Past Part 2

April is one of the Trump cards of the dormitory. She has a knack for doing well at most luck-based games, which is how she gained the name of the Lucky number 7.

She is obsessed with Apples and eats one each day. April respects her dorm leaders a lot, but also at times she just wants to do her own things and gets into trouble. She sees Dorothea as a good friend of hers and is usually the calmer counterpart to her. When she isnt working in the casino she grows plants and takes care of them. Her left eye hides outside of the dormitory to make other students less wary of her. She might be compared to the other dorm members, more laid-back and goes with the flow, but pisses her off badly and she might summon her double pistols to threaten you. Despite that April keeps lots of details about her life hidden and her time in her homeworld.  Aside her brother which she loves to bother at times.

Julian and April as Siblings work perfect together, however they also quarrel a lot.

Unique Magic:

Lucky 7

After every seventh shot of her weapon she summons another riffle which floats in the aird to shoot with her... she can unsummon them by touching them.

#twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland ocs #twst oc #twstocs #twst ocs #twstoc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanschool #twistedwonderland #twst #Höllejigoku #april richter

[nyrandrea]

Setting The Stage

My hyperfixation is set back on fnaf again in anticipation for Security Breach, so I’ve decided to write my own interpretation on how the game might begin! 

Summary: Gregory had always dreamed of going to Freddy Faxbear’s Mega Pizza Plex and meeting his heroes. But he somehow ends up getting more than he bargained for, and dreams start to turn into nightmares.

Originally planned as a oneshot but had to split it into two parts.Link to next chapter is down below! Also available to read on AO3 here!

Enjoy!

Walking into Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex for the first time was something that every kid in the world should experience, at least according to Gregory’s logic. 

And it was that logic – and a lot of puppy dog looks – that just about managed to work on his mom. Because here he was, finally standing in front of the colorful neon sign with his favorite animal mascots welcoming him in.  

It had taken a lot of begging and guilt-tripping but he wasn’t ashamed one bit, though his mother might have disagreed, especially when it came to the snivelling part. But hey, it wasn’t his fault she had worked late on his birthday, so she owed him. Big time. 

He vaguely recalled her grumbling about having to dip into her savings for this trip. 

So that meant that he only had today, and he had to make every second count. 

“So...” a voice spoke up from behind him. “Am I finally forgiven?” 

Gregory looked up to see his mom giving him ‘the look’, and to that he nodded profusely.  

“Good. After today you can finally leave me in peace,” she said, giving his hair a playful ruffle as they walked through the large sliding doors and into the mall. 

He decided to push it just a little bit further. 

“Can I get a Freddy plushie?” 

The little boy swore he could hear a vein pop. 

“I already bought tickets for the meet and greet. Do you know how much those cost me?” 

He shrugged. 

“A lot, and it’s coming out of your college fund.” 

“What if I don’t wanna go to college?” 

“Maybe you won’t get to after today,” she replied, rubbing at her temples. “Fine. I’ll give you ten dollars and you can buy yourself something at the store when we’re done, alright?” 

That was enough to cover a pencil, maybe an eraser as well if he haggled. But he didn’t argue.  

Both Gregory and his mom were suddenly blinded when they entered into the main part of the building as bright neon lights bounced off of the high glass ceiling and right into their retinas. Only once they were able to adjust their eyes could they really absorb the true grandeur of the place. 

Everywhere you looked there were people: from tired-eyed parents trying to find the next thing to distract their kids to enthusiastic parents who wanted to get involved in everything their kids were doing while filming it on their phone for their blogs. Then there were the snot-nosed teens who were bunking off school and several professional shopping guides with forced smiles wider than Moondrop and Sunrise’s combined. Everyone seemed to move in unison as the hall was filled with the sound of shoes squeaking against the polished checkered floors. 

Topping it all off was a massive gleaming golden statue of Glamrock Freddy proudly posed right in the center, singing silently into the microphone as soft music and wacky adverts played in the background. 

Suddenly Gregory felt very small. 

“It sure is...big, isn’t it?” His mother said, not sounding so confident herself. 

He merely nodded in agreement. 

Her son-o-meter seemed to be finely tuned as ever as she gently grasped Gregory’s shoulder and gave him a light but reassuring shake. 

“C’mon now,” she tenderly prodded. “We’ve got all day to enjoy the place so let’s make the most of it, huh? It’s not every day we get to go to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex.” 

This was true. Coming here had once been only but a dream. Now he was here, staring up at a brilliantly shining statue of Glamrock Freddy. And pretty soon he was going to be meeting the bear himself. 

His hand absently went to towards his back-pocket before he made a fist as determination washed over him. Looking up at his mom, he nodded. 

“And if I’m remembering right, I think I know the first thing on your to-do list.”  

The boy had already grabbed her hand as he made a beeline for their first activity. 

“To Fazer Blast!” 

 xxx

Trying to imitate the pose of the Roxanne cut-out that was behind the reception desk, Gregory pointed his laser blaster at his mom as she attempted to fit on his vest. 

“Could you stop fidgeting?” 

“But I’m practicing-” 

“Stop. Fidgeting.” 

He pouted before she struck him with that look again, which he pretended not to notice as he gazed up towards the lady at the reception desk. She looked about in her twenties and was using one hand to push back her long sleek black locks away from her face every five seconds while her other hand typed lazily on a screen. 

“So...do I just join a team or...?” 

It took her a moment to even register that he was talking to her before she flicked her hair back again just to glare down at him. 

“Sure, like, do what you want. It’s your game, you make the rules.” 

She seemed to pause for a moment. 

“You do, like, know the rules, right?” 

Gregory wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  

“Uh...sure?” 

“Fantastic,” she drawled as she focused her attention back to her tablet. “Your session ends in fifteen minutes.” 

His mother rolled her eyes and muttered something about, “kids these days”, but soon smiled and took Gregory’s shoulder as she walked him in. 

“Just remember to have fun, alright? Screw the rules.” 

“Really?” Gregory asked, his toothy grin twisting into something sinister as he got into the Roxanne pose again.  

“Just...don’t run and remember to stay within the walls,” she added on quickly. “Can’t have my little space man getting lost now, can I?” 

Gregory made a sound of disgust as he was pulled in for a kiss before she finally let him loose into the brightly colored arena. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare up in awe as spotlights of purple, green and red shone upon the various props and fixtures that decorated the place. 

 In the center was a giant space rocket that was surrounded by planets with neon rings glowing around them. The cut-outs from reception were scattered about too, though now they were humongous. Gregory almost couldn’t help but salute the towering Freddy as he walked past. 

He also noticed a room near the back walls. It was raised up to overlook the whole arena and was surrounded by green-lit pillars. It fit in with the theme of the room but also...jarringly stood out. Maybe it was a place for parents to watch their kids play, or perhaps the employees? 

“Hey Grogery!”  

That voice. That name struck fear into his chest as he swirled around to face a group of boys that had aimed their blasters right at him. 

“Never thought we’d see you here,” the biggest one said with a smirk. “You sneak in through the gutters or something?” 

“Hey... Bob,” Gregory casually greeted. Though it was hard to act so suave when he was trembling. 

“It’s Rob.” 

“Rob! Yeah...cool to see you too.” 

Learning the names of his bullies from class had never been at the top of Gregory’s to-do list, but then again it hadn’t been at the top of theirs either, clearly. But God, why did they have to be here of all places? Of all days, even? 

“Nah, his mom probably got him in here with all that hooker money she earns!” The skinny one snorted, making them all burst out into laughter. 

“She works at the hospital,” Gregory weakly argued. 

“Not what my dad said!” Rob hollered, still rubbing tears from his eyes. 

“So, what, is your dad cheating on your mom?” He sniped back with a sneer of his own. 

His grin soon disappeared though when they all suddenly stopped laughing and a beat of silence followed, save for the distant laser blasts sounding off around them. 

“The hell did you just say to me?” Rob asked, his voice dangerously quiet. If his brows knitted together any tighter then those pimples on the bridge of his nose might pop at any given moment. Gregory grimaced at the very thought. 

“N-nothing! Um...I mean- it's technically not cheating if your parents are divorced, right?” 

Rob positioned the blaster in his hand not so much as to aim it, but rather throw it. 

“Like I said, my mom wouldn’t even do that!” 

The pimples popped. 

With that, Gregory legged it before the gun could smack him in the face. He dashed between the walls as the angry voices behind him grew distant, he almost felt bad as he climbed through the holes and bumped past people, but hey it was like his mom said, screw the rules, right? 

However, it looked like the rules were starting to screw him when he smacked into a dead end. The black wall was too high for him to jump over and the only way out would be to re-trace his steps, which meant... 

“C’mon Grogery!” Rob’s voice taunted through the luminous hall. “Let’s see how many knocks to the head you can take before you bleed.”  

The boy swallowed a hard lump down his throat as he backed himself up against the wall and looked up at the Roxanne cut-out that towered above him, aiming her blaster with such confidence and attitude. With a deep breath and a firm nod, he did the same with the hope that getting them disqualified might save him. 

If not, at least his mom was a first-aider. 

“Hey...” A soft, almost girlie voice laced with a mechanical tone called out. “In here.”  

Gregory’s head snapped to the right as a hand – or was it a paw? – beckoned him into a dark corner. 

“Hurry up...!” The voice urged, and before Gregory could question anything, he saw four shadows creep around as the sound of footsteps thundered towards him, forcing him to make a snap decision and dive into the darkness, getting caught by a pair of skinny, furred arms. 

“Shit, where did he go?” Rob shouted as the group gathered where Gregory had been standing just seconds before.  

“Looks like he dropped his blaster,” one of them said as he picked it up. “Maybe he climbed the wall?” 

There was a sudden yelp as Rob smacked him upside the head. 

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, he’s tiny. No way in hell he’d be able to scale that.” 

Gregory stiffened as Rob suddenly turned in his direction, but he felt the stranger put a hand on his head, and strangely enough, it calmed him down. 

“...C’mon, he’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Rob finally said, pulling the group away. “He can’t hide forever.” 

After a few moments of waiting, Gregory let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. 

“Bullies are just the worst, huh?” 

Almost jumping out of his skin at the sudden chipper voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife, he glanced up with wide eyes as the figure gave him a little pat on the head.  

This was obviously a girl but with the shadows enveloping her it was hard to tell exactly...what she was.  

He could make out a pair of tall ears so...a rabbit? Gregory couldn’t remember any animatronics other than Freddy, Chica, Monty and Roxanne, as well as Moondrop and Sunrise. Was this a new character? 

But what kind of bunny would have such piercing red eyes? 

“My name’s Vanny,” she greeted. “What’s yours?” 

Feeling slightly relieved that she had finally let him go, he cautiously stepped out and looked around to make sure he was in the clear before turning to face her.  

“...Gregory,” the boy timidly answered, still feeling a bit unnerved.  

“What a swell name! It’s nice to meet’cha,” she said with a small bow, which unveiled a few more features like a bright blue bow tied around her neck, and an unnaturally wide toothy grin plastered on her patched face.  

What’s more, she didn’t exactly move like a robot, despite sounding like one. 

“Are you new?” Gregory asked, causing Vanny to tilt her head. 

“Huh?” 

“I’ve never seen you in the show before and...” he paused, knowing his words had already gotten him in trouble today. 

“And what?” she prodded. 

“Well...you don’t really look like an animatronic.” 

“That’s because I’m not!”  

Gregory flinched at her overly cheerful tone and stepped back as she kneeled down to his level. 

“Can I let ya in on a little secret?” Vanny asked, cupping her hand to her mouth in a poorly disguised whisper. 

“Sure...?” 

“I wanna be in the show. Like, I really really wanna be in the show. That’s why I made this,” the rabbit gestured to herself in an overly dramatic way; caressing her ears and cupping her face. “But I gotta prove myself first.” 

“Prove yourself?” 

“Yup!” 

Gregory raised an eyebrow when she didn’t elaborate further, but decided to put it to rest as he really wanted to get out before Rob and his goons came back. 

“I know a shortcut outta here,” Vanny offered with a tilt of the head, as if reading his mind. “Just take a couple of rights and a left and you’ll be as right as rain! Want me to show you?”  

“T-that’s okay, I should be good,” Gregory replied with a smile, though it slowly turned into a frown when she didn’t answer back, choosing instead to just...stare at him, her head still tilted, almost as if she were deep in thought. 

“But...thanks anyway...?” he weakly offered. 

This seemed to snap her out of her trance as she nodded vigorously. 

“No problem! And don’t worry, if those bullies come back, I’ll give ‘em a dose of Moondrop’s sleepy candy. That oughta slow ‘em down!”  

He had heard of that stuff, but couldn’t for the life of him understand why kids would want candy that would put them to sleep. Nevertheless, he nodded and thanked her again before turning, and hurrying away, a soft giggle echoing behind him. 

 xxx

“Where on earth have you been? It’s been thirty minutes!” 

Gregory was still a little shaken up by the time he had reached the exit, so much so that he had forgotten that he had been on a time limit. 

“Sorry, mom...” Gregory muttered sheepishly as she looked him over. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Glancing back towards the arena, he tried to see if he could spot Rob’s gang still wandering about in there. 

“Did you see a group of guys come out by any chance? Older than me. Kinda ugly...” 

“Now you’re answering my question with a question,” his mother said with a sigh. “But no. Why? Did something happen?” 

“No!” he blurted out, making her give him that look again. “We were just...having so much fun but then I uh...I lost them. Just wondering if they left without me or something.” 

Her expression softened a little. He hated when she did that. 

“No, sweetie...but I’m sure they won’t be far, should we go look for them?” 

Gregory grabbed her hand and started pulling her away. “It’s fine! The show’ll be starting soon, right? We can’t miss it!” 

“Okay, okay...!” she chuckled as he dragged her. “But first we need to hand your blaster in.” 

He stopped then, inwardly cursing at himself before smiling sheepishly up at his mom as she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You lost it, didn’t you.”  

Her tone suggested that it wasn’t a question. 

“Yep.” 

He yelped when she was suddenly the one dragging him away. 

“Well, we best make ourselves scarce then, besides we can’t miss your big show, right?” 

Gregory grinned. “Screw the rules?” 

She smiled back. “Screw the rules.” 

 xxx

They had made it to the main stage before the show began, but there were already big crowds congregating near the front to get the best view, and Gregory was having none of it. 

His mom kept apologizing to the angry faces and pointed looks as he towed her through the mass of people to get to the front, ignoring her when she grumbled about having to teach him some social skills. 

Gregory drowned everything else in the auditorium out as his wide brown eyes focused on the stage, even trying to balance up on the tips of his toes to get any kind of glimpse of brown, green, pink or purple. He had waited so long for this moment, and nothing more mattered than the next hour. 

Gregory wasn’t ashamed to admit that he squealed a little when the lights died down, it was just as well that every other kid in the auditorium screamed too, resulting in the kind of high-pitched noise that would make a banshee cringe. 

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” A mechanical voice greeted over the speakers. “Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex! Are you all having a fantabulous time?”  

The crowds erupted once more. 

“Rockin’!” Gregory gasped as a rough female voice took over. "Y’all ready to get your glam on?!”  

“Oh Roxanne...” a more feminine tone scolded. “Now you’ve given us away. Again.”  

Gregory’s smile grew wider, he knew this whole skit, next up would be- 

"I think we’ve kept ‘em waiting long enough, gals,” a graveled voice boomed out from the speakers. "Whaddya say, Freddy? Should we give the kids what they want?”  

The little boy almost couldn’t contain himself at this point. 

“I say let’s rock out!”  

The curtains suddenly swung open to reveal the animatronics in all their shiny, glittering glory.  

They were all 80’s themed, of course, to fit in with the aesthetic of the mall. Glamrock Chica had the typical pink leotard with green leopard print leg warmers; very popular with the girls. Roxanne Wolf was more unconventional with a striking red outfit, piercings and the mascot for the mall’s race course; she appealed to quite a wide range of people. Montgomery Gator was more for the chads as he had a rough and tough attitude with a love of golf, but Gregory did admire his red mohawk and star-shaped shades. 

Then there was Glamrock Freddy. The mascot of the Pizza Plex. He didn’t really have a gimmick as such but was incredibly popular just for how great he was with the children. The other animatronics were good with kids but Freddy was the one who seemed to pay the most attention to them, whether it be sitting down and listening to a kid’s story, accepting gifts from them to even giving them gifts of his own free will – mostly a plushie of himself. 

Management were irked by this odd behavior at first but when they saw how much cash he was raking in from meet and greets alone, they decided to leave it. Why fix it if it ain’t broke, right? 

As they burst into their first song, with Freddy singing into his mic stand and the other three playing keytars, Gregory didn’t even notice when his mother shook his shoulder and told him that she would have to take a phone call but would be back as soon as she could. There were some instructions on where to meet if she didn’t make it back by the time the show was finished but the words fell on deaf ears as he bounced and sang along to the lyrics he had spent so painstakingly long to learn. 

By the fourth or fifth song, the crowds had started to dissipate as parents took their children away to browse some more shops or to go to the food court for lunch, but Gregory stayed until the very end, cheering and whooping when the animatronics did their final encore and bowed as the curtains were drawn to a close. 

Fearing his chest might explode from excitement, the boy took a few moments to breathe as he tried to calm down from the buzz of electricity that was jolting through his body. The past hour had gone and went so fast that he could hardly process any of it, all he knew was that it had been the happiest moment of his life.  

With a huge grin, he watched as the robots were escorted off stage by staff and taken to their individual show rooms for their meet and greet sessions. Lines were already starting to grow long. 

It was only then that Gregory realized that his mother was gone. He looked around with a frown, she had said something about a phone call but...that had been half an hour ago now. 

‘She must be waiting at the show room for me,’ Gregory concluded, beaming at the thought of finally meeting his hero in the flesh. Or...plastic. 

Shaking his head, he made a beeline past Chica’s room, where mostly little kids were sitting on the floor watching the animatronic as she played them a song while others had started a food fight with the leftover pizza and soda cans that had been lying around the room, making the parents and staff grimace as they tried to break it up. 

Monty’s room was a little more organized and catered more towards older children as the gator showed them how to get a hole in one with a little golf stand while others played on the arcade machine. This reminded Gregory that the golf course was next on his list. 

Roxanne’s room was very high energy as the wolf raced around with the other kids with driving wheels in their hands while making engine noises. Though when one tripped up, she immediately halted and gently picked the child up, reassuring him that “Even the most rockin’ superstars get hurt sometimes!” and carried him into the back area to where the medical staff resided with a worried mother in tow. 

Stopping to catch his breath, Gregory finally made it to Freddy’s room, gaping slightly when he saw the queue nearly reaching the end of the walkway. He couldn’t even see inside due to the mass of people gathered at the curtains, forcing him to back up a bit and climb up on a bench just to be able to get a look in. 

The room was painted red and blue to fit in with Freddy’s color scheme and decorated with bright lightning bolts and portraits of the bear himself. It was also the least cluttered as there were only a few bowling bowls, party hats and – of course – plenty of plushies to give away. But what caught Gregory’s eyes were the assortment of colorful drawings that had been halfhazardly pinned to the wall next to the make-up mirror. 

It was true then; he really did collect kids' drawings! 

Reaching into his own back-pocket, Gregory pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and opened it up, smiling a little when he looked upon his own masterpiece. All the animatronics were singing on a stage on top of the whole world, with Freddy towering over them wearing a crown and rainbow cape because why not?  

It had taken him hours and an absurd number of crayons that he had ‘taken’ from his classroom, so a selfish part of him hoped that Freddy would pin it above the rest. 

A flurry of movement in the crowd suddenly caught Gregory’s attention as the stewards moved them aside to let the animatronic move in. He felt himself get giddy when the bear greeted everyone and gave them a sign of the horns with his clawed hand, to which all the kids mimicked, including Gregory from all the way in the back. 

As the queue started to move along, Gregory couldn’t help but start to feel impatient. Where was his mom? He thought she knew how important this was to him. 

Forgiveness was suddenly starting to come in very short supply. 

With a cross of the arms and a small pout, he watched as Glamrock Freddy took photographs, played with kids and even recognized a regular and accepted a drawing from her, praising her for becoming more talented every day. 

Gregory’s chest tightened up a little at that. 

Frowning down at his own scribbles, he didn’t even notice the tall figure hiding behind the golden statue of Roxanne that was trying to get his attention. 

“Hey...! Hey Gregory!” A familiar voice hissed. 

Startled, he turned to see that tall rabbit lady from earlier waving and beckoning him over. Blinking, he took a moment to look around to see if anybody else had seen her, half-wondering if she was some kind of hallucination at this point. When she beckoned again, he tentatively walked over. 

Once again, she was hidden in the shadows, but the overhead lights made it a little easier to see more details of the suit, like the stitches that barely held the mismatched creams and beiges together along with a few patches of crosshatched red. It was like the whole thing had just been thrown together. 

“Uh...hey...”  

It took him a moment. 

“Vanny?” 

She gasped and gleefully put her hands up to her grinning mouth. 

“You remembered!”  

He forced a grin, trying to ignore the bristling hairs on the back of his neck. 

“Sure.” 

She paused and knelt down. 

“What’s wrong? You look a bit down.” 

This caught him by surprise. 

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Just...waiting.” 

Glancing back, he could see the crowds starting to dwindle as time went on, but still no sign of his mother. 

“Ooh! What’s that?” 

He looked down to where she was pointing and held up the piece of paper that he had been clutching a little too hard. 

“It’s...um...just a drawing I made...for...Freddy,” he meekly replied, his cheeks heating up. 

“Oh wow! Can I see?” 

The very question he was afraid of. But she was already holding out her hand, so he couldn’t just say no. 

She seemed to study it very closely when Gregory handed it over. He started to wonder if she was having to squint through the costume’s red eyes just to be able to see it. 

“This is so good, Gregory!” She gushed, holding it up as if to show it off to everybody else in the mall. “You’re super talented! Are you gonna be an artist when you grow up?” 

He looked down in embarrassment but couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. Despite how weird this lady was, she actually seemed pretty nice.  

“Um...I dunno. I like drawing so...maybe.” 

“You should definitely show it to Freddy, I bet he’d love it!” 

Gregory perked up at that, but frowned again as he looked back over to the show room. 

“I want to but I can’t yet.” 

“Why not?” Vanny asked. “Ya nervous?” 

That was true but he wasn’t about to admit it.  

“My mom has the ticket for the meet and greet but...she had to take some kinda phone call and hasn’t come back yet.” 

“Hasn’t...come back,” she repeated. 

As Gregory watched kids and parents come and go, he hadn’t noticed that Vanny was staring right at him until the silence between them grew uncomfortably long. But as he turned back to look at her, she stood up and offered her hand. 

“I know a way you can give it to him.” 

A little perturbed by her sudden shift in tone; he looked at her hand but didn’t take it. 

“Uh...how?” 

“The VIP room, silly!” She said, her chirpy voice returning once more. “You know that one up at Fazer Tag? I saw you looking at it earlier.” 

The one that was high up, he remembered. But... had she been watching him that whole time? 

“That’s where Freddy and the others go for the secret meet and greets, where they give you their undivided attention.” 

Gregory raised an eyebrow. 

“I... didn’t even know that was a thing.” 

“That’s cuz it’s secret!” 

Okay, well that made sense. 

“Usually only the rich kids get to go there but I think you’re much more deserving, Gregory,” she said, holding out her hand once again. “You only get today, right?” 

The boy looked over once more. Freddy was waving goodbye to the last of the children as the stewards drew the curtains. He had missed his chance. 

He looked back up at Vanny. 

“What about my mom?” 

The rabbit tilted her head. “I’ll notify the staff so they can let her know, then she’ll come pick you up when you’re ready, okay?” 

There was a moment of hesitation but he knew she was right. He only had today and nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted. 

Screw the rules.  

With a nod, Gregory took her hand and let her lead him away to the Fazer Tag arena, not noticing that his drawing had slipped from her grip and she had let it fall into a crumpled ball as they walked away. 

xxx

So let me know what y’all think! Would you like to see a part 2? :D

Edit: Part 2 is now available here!

#fnaf security breach #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanny #glamrock freddy #glamrock chica #roxanne wolf #montgomery gator #fanfiction #my writing #fnaf sb

[eddsworld-headies]

i was wondering if u could do a tord/tom with a female reader that dresses really baggy-VERY TOMBOYISH but is decked out with all types of rings and chains. doesn’t dress girly but still barely wears makeup and likes to have pretty nails at the same time.

Oh wow what a coincidence my-- OC IS JUST LIKE THAT HAHA WELL SINCE YOU ASKED MIGHT AS WELL RIGHT??

--------

Tom huffed loudly, not noticing that Tord had helped himself to sitting at the kitchen table to watch him press his forehead to the window, looking outside. He simply stayed silent, watching the brit get frustrated while opening and closing cabinets.

"Lose something?"

Tom groaned, slamming the cupboard door and turning round and facing the Norwegian with a sneer. "Screw off. I don't need you chewing my ear off." He replied grumpily, moving towards the living room and giving a quick glance around. " What, did you lose something in the bottom of your flask? Other than your self-worth?"

"EDD!" Tom shouted, making Tord roll his eyes as he stood up, following Tom as he moved up the stairs. "Jesus, don't be such a tattletail. I'll stop bothering you." "This isn't about you, Commie."

The two stopped in Edd's doorway, Tom holding onto the edge of the door trim as he leaned in. The leader of the group was jamming to some tunes at his drafting table, tablet pen in hand and hoodie wrapped around his waist.

His room was messy, seeing as he wasn't the only one occupying the room now that their newest addition moved in from America and needed a place to stay.

"Hey," Tom said loudly, moving in and lightly slapping Edd's shoulder, the tallest of the group shifting his eyes over before lifting his left earbud out. " Where's your sister?" The black eyed man asked." Huh?" "Your sister, dude, where is she?" " I dunno. She's your girlfriend, keep better track." "It's not like I have a tracker on her or something." "Then maybe you should invest in one." Edd retorted, settling his earbud back in his ear.

"Thanks for the help." The dirty blonde scoffed, pushing the second ginger of the house to the side and moving past him. "Oh!" Edd said, pulling out his earbud once more. "If you figure it out, let me know!" "Whatever!"

"You seem ever worried today," Tord started, continuing to follow the other-- much to his annoyance. " What? You fuck something up again?" " Fuck off. I haven't seen her all day. I'm just worried, Dick." "It's not like she can't take care of herself." "I know that. But she's a fucking dumbass with an impulse disorder and a can of pepper spray. Plus 4 years of law enforcement and dumb fucking defense classes in a tiny 5 foot package. The girl thinks she's indestructible and that doesn't go well with her--" "Tendency to do dumb fucking shit?" "That's putting it lightly. I guess getting into trouble runs in the family."

Tom perked up when the front door opened, Matt walking in with his hands behind his back as a much shorter figure following behind.

"Fuck, there you are-- What's with your hair?" Tom asked, moving toward his girlfriend, who's impossibly short cut hair almost replicated her brother's. " It's windy. And of course someone had to put the top down." She said, green eyes narrowing at the freckled ginger who was smiling brightly. "Oh, but look how good my hair is!" Matt whined, trying to get a bit of sympathy from his best friend's sister.

It was times like this that Tom realized, without her snake bites and brow piercing, their were only a few differences to Edd and his sister. Besides the accents, they could be twins if her eyes were a different color. And you know... If she wasn't a fucking twig.

Tom can remember how hilarious he thought the two were where they were younger. Sure, they weren't as big as they were now, but seeing this skinny short stack next to a guy like Edd and claiming them to be siblings was hilarious. But they looked a like, identical traits in each but separate none the less.

He had to admit, seeing his girlfriend without her hair pushed back was a little odd. She rarely wore it in a cowlick like her brother.

"Okay. Where did you two go off too?" He asked, noticing that the only girl in the house hand her hands shoved into the pockets of her blue zip up hoodie. The red long sleeve down to her wrists while the blue sleeves of her jacket were up to her elbows, and her tan pants and sneakers were slightly muddy. Practically all the cuffs of her pants were dirty, since she usually liked to go through puddles and mud rather than walk around a foot or two.

"We went to the mall!" Matt exclaimed, suddenly thrusting his hands into Tom's face. The shorter flinched, grabbing Matt's wrists and pushing them away to get a look at his hands. His nails were long, at least an inch and a half, and bright purple with butterflies and hearts. They were rectangles at the top and wrapped pretty nicely in a white french tip. "Aren't my nails gorgeous?"

"Yeah, their great," Tom said, letting his wrists go. " And why did you need to get your nails done?" "They were so dull before! I can't be this perfect and have dull nails! Plus, we got a 5% coupon!" Matt explained. Tom looked over to his girlfriend. " And how much did this cost?"

" 63 pounds each." She answered, her boyfriend raising a pierced brow. "Each?"

"Ah! Well yes, of course! I simply couldn't have a spa day all to myself," The ginger said as Tord took a seat on the couch, messing with his phone. "Sooo, I invited Bridget to come along!" He said, grabbing her hands out of her own pockets and revealing her nails. Long and sharp, deep blue with little piercings on them and a little blue marbling.

She smiled guiltily as Tom's eyes widened. "I mean- I couldn't not." She defended. "Bride- Baby, You're an All-star, really-" "Ah yes, just what every girl wants to hear." She teased lightly, fully knowing neither were at the "I love you stage" yest so finding a compromise was hard. "Yeah yeah- But... You're the clumsiest person I know. And you chew nail polish off your nails. In what world is this a good idea?"

Bridget blew air as her ran her hands through her hair, the front lightly sticking up in her normal do but half deflated without hair gel. " There is none- But! Listen to this!" She said excitedly, moving towards the wall and clicking her nails repeatedly on it with a wide smile, the noise loud and slightly satisfying. " Eh? Right? Isn't that great?" She asked. Tord sat up, laughing lightly. "You game for a living and the first thing you do is get acrylics-?" Bridget shushed him, moving over and running her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp as his face scrunched up.

"Don't think about the future, think about the now." "OH gOd that's horrible!" Tord groaned, cringing but laughing at the odd feeling. "Fuck it feels like your scratching my brains!" Tom rolled his pitch black eyes. " You're gonna hate those in two hours." He insisted, watching her creep closer. "Okay. I'm hearing you," She said. " But in my defense...."

Bridget moved forward, wiggling her fingers in her boyfriends face. "These are fucking sick." She whispered, her nails lightly scratching at his stubble and making his laugh and pull back from the ticklish feeling. " Fuck that's absolute shit." He chuckled, face scrunching as Edd jumped down the stairs.

"Hey! I knew I heard you-" His eyes widened as they landed on his sister, the siblings locked in a staring contest as she slowly moved her hand away, this time towards her brother.

"What the hell are those?" "Edddyyyy," "Don't you dare." "EEEEEddddddyyyy," "Bridget, I swear to god if you touch me with those things-" " I think you need a back scratch, Eddy bo' Beddy." "Get away from me you fucking dwarf!"

///////////

Tom groaned as he scratched his stomach, lazily flipping out the band of his sweatpants so he didn't have to tie them as he went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door, goosebumps forming over his chest as he reached in to grab the milk. He kicked the door close with his foot and turned to fill his glass, jumping out of his skin at the figure in the arch way to the living room and hall.

"Jesus-! Damn it, Bridget! The hell are you doing?" He asked, hand over his chest as she stared at him, eyes slightly bloodshot and wide as she stood in the arch way, his blue hoodie down to her thighs and the peaks of dinosaur boxers underneath. Her hair was spiked up now, only slightly ruffled. " Did you just finish your stream?"

"Seventy-eight," She said shakily. " Seventy-eight fffffucking run-throughs, because my fucking nails! Keep getting caught!" She whispered- but it was more of a stage whisper with her theatrics as she held her hands out awkwardly. " I want them off, Thomas." Tom stared at her for a moment, eyes wide as she looked at him with a death glare.

"..Uhhhhh," He dragged. ".... There's a Buzzsaw in the attic?"

//////

haha I really just wrote a short with my Oc in it cause I have that kinda power so suck it

( But if ya'll really want an x reader one I can write another one. It'll litterally be the same though I have a bunch more asks to get through)

#eddsworld #ew edd #ew tom #ew matt #ew tord #ew oc #OC #Headcanon #senario #x reader if you squint #not really #i got super excited case This request was LITTERALY her #so sorry #but i kinda make the rules here

[everywhereallofthetime]

Some Girl ... Part 4

Word Count: 2.34k

Warnings: None.

// * // * //

Charlotte and Shawn were sitting together on the couch, in the wonderfully cool house, taking a break from a heat which had only gotten worse since that afternoon. Shawn’s feet were up on the ottoman and Charlotte was curled up beside him, tablet in hand.

She had taken charge of the music, purposely avoiding any of Shawn’s songs, which almost always found their way into her playlists.

“You have amazing taste in music,” Shawn complimented.

“She really does,” Josh said, having overheard Shawn, plopping down beside them on the incredibly comfortable, over-stuffed sectional. “She sends me playlists all the time and they’re always amazing. Ask her to make you a playlist. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Charlotte, darling, will you make me a playlist?” he asked her, with a lazy smile.

The way he said her name, followed by ‘darling’, set her heart fluttering. “Of course I will,” she smiled back.

Josh looked over to where Annie was entertaining a giggling Sebastian. “He looks like you,” he casually said to Shawn. “He has your mouth, and the cleft in his chin is yours. He has Charlie’s eyes and nose though.”

“Thank God. I always thought my nose was too big.”

Charlotte smirked to herself. Shawn was a better actor than she expected him to be. He had played the part of ‘Peter’, and Sebastian’s dad, amazingly well all evening.

“I like your nose,” she said to Shawn, giving it a little tweak.

“I like your eyes,” he smiled, meeting them with his own. “You have beautiful eyes.”

Josh teased them by making a puking sound. “I’m going to grab another beer,” he said as he stood. “Can I get you guys anything?” he asked.

“I’ll take one,” Shawn answered.

“I’m good for now,” Charlotte added. “Thanks Josh.”

She laid her head on Shawn’s shoulder without realizing it. He didn’t mind. He liked that she felt comfortable enough with him to do so.

He followed her gaze to her baby boy.

“I couldn’t find a sitter...

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” she confessed. “I probably could have found a sitter if I had tried,” she chucked. “Elisa and Jack, or Mason, usually babysit for me. It’s hard to find someone I can trust as much as them. It’s a good thing they don’t mind, even on nights like this. They love having him around.”

“He’s such a good baby,” Shawn commented. “And so happy.”

“I got lucky. This is almost always him. Bash loves people, loves the attention, loves the busyness, but you’ll know when he’s had enough. He’ll be ready for bed before the hour is up.”

// * // * //

Shawn found Charlotte in the kitchen. He had been in the basement playing darts with Doug and Rob. Sebastian was in his arms, squirming and starting to whine. “He’s had enough. The second he saw me, he cried and nearly jumped into my arms.”

“I saw it coming,” she tittered. “I’ve already warmed a bottle. He might not be ready to eat and sleep quite yet; he usually likes a little one-on-one quiet time to wind down first.”

Charlotte went to take him from Shawn, but Shawn asked, suddenly unsure, “Could I maybe take him up and get him settled? I could use a little quiet, too.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” She handed him the bottle. “Up the stairs, first door on the left.”

Half an hour later, Charlotte was standing in the doorway to hers and Sebastian’s bedroom, leaning against the doorframe, quietly watching.

Shawn had gotten Sebastian into his pajamas and the bottle on the side table next to the rocker was empty. Sebastian was nearly asleep on Shawn’s chest.

In that moment, it was all too easy to imagine that Shawn really was Sebastian’s dad. She almost cried with the precious perfectness of it.

The young man who, only a few hours earlier, had said he hadn’t had much of a reason to sing lately, was singing softly to her son.

She wanted so badly to acknowledge it, but even more, she didn’t want to startle him into stopping.

When he finished his lullaby, he looked at Charlotte with a tint of pink, unrelated to having been in the sun, creeping from his cheeks down his neck. He knew she had been there for a while, watching and listening.

Shawn lowered his lips to Sebastian’s little head. “He smells so good.”

She smiled tenderly. “His baby scent is amazing.”

“It’s more than that. He has his own scent, but he also smells like you.”

It felt good to hear those small compliments. Shawn had spouted little affirmations like that all evening, whether he had realized it or not. But she noticed.

She finally entered and crossed the room. She stroked Sebastian’s head and said, “I’m sorry I left you alone for as long as I did.”

“I didn’t mind,” he smiled, genuinely.

Shawn helped her carefully transition a sleeping Sebastian from his chest to her arms. After a few snuggles and kisses, she laid Sebastian in his crib. He hadn’t stirred once. They stood side by side, watching over him for a few moments.

“He’s a good sleeper,” she said quietly. “He’ll be out for about five, six hours before he wakes up hungry again. I’ll give him another bottle, but then he’ll go back to sleep.”

“It’s nice of your aunt and uncle to have a room for you and Bash.”

“This was my room when I lived here. My aunt helped me redecorate after I told her I was pregnant. She said we’d always have a home here if we ever needed it.” She smiled fondly with the memory.

“When did you live here?” Shawn asked. “And why? If you don’t mind my asking. The way you introduced Elisa, Jack, and Mason had me wondering... What happened to your parents?”

“I lost my parents when I was fourteen, the summer before high school started.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Charlotte.” He gently stroked her back.

“Elisa, Jack, and Mason took me in what feels like a lifetime ago now.”

“Are you an only child?”

“I have an older brother, Jonah...

“I don’t talk with him very often and I see him even less.”

Shawn could tell there was a story there, but it was one that could wait for another time. “Come on,” he said. He took her hand and started to pull her from the room. “Let’s go have another drink and see if there are any leftovers.”

// * // * //

Shawn and Charlotte were sitting on the edge of the pool, close enough for their thighs to touch and their arms to brush, their feet dangling in the water.

Mason, Doug, Rob, and Josh were at the other side of the pool on floaties. They looked like large children, which Charlotte supposed they were. Immaturity aside, her cousins were her best friends. She had always gotten along better with the boys than the girls.

While Valerie was off with Abigail and Morgan, doing very girlie things, Charlotte was wreaking havoc on the neighborhood with Josh, Doug, and Rob, with Mason on their tails.

Beth and Lyle had gone home to relieve their babysitter. Zak and Tori had shown up after all, much to everyone’s surprise, but they only stayed for a couple of drinks and a quick bite before they were off again, taking Annie with them.

Elisa and Jack, and Will and Diana had moved inside to play cribbage.

Charlotte was quiet enough for long enough that Shawn bumped his shoulder against hers to pull her from her thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“Have I done anything to make you uncomfortable in any way tonight? Tangibly?” She met his eyes. He was remarkably close.

“What? Of course not, why would you ask that?”

She dropped her eyes and watched the back patio lights ripple across the water. “I’m a very... instinctual person. I crave physical touch. I love to touch; I love to be touched. I’m affectionate just to be affectionate. It’s intrinsic to who I am.” She looked at him again. “It’s how I show someone I care about them. Elisa always says I’m a Cancer who was mistakenly born under the sign of Aquarius,” she smiled softly. “I’m not often bothered with those I know and care about in my personal space, and sometimes I forget other people don’t always feel the same way. I want to make sure I haven’t crossed any lines.

“Well, aside from that one kiss earlier.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not,” he smiled. “I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

“You did,” she blushed. “And it was a very nice kiss, in case you were wondering,” she smirked. “I can only imagine how you kiss when there’s love behind it... Not that I’m imagining kissing you again... Okay, you need to stop me from saying anything more.”

“Do I have to kiss you again?” he teased.

“Shut up,” she giggled.

He laughed.

Without warning, she pushed him into the pool. He broke the surface and swam back to her, still laughing. He pulled himself up and onto the ledge, anchoring himself by the underside of his arms. Everything below his shoulders was still in the water.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his wet hair, pushing it out of his eyes and off his forehead. “I know you’re not looking for a relationship, after what you’ve recently been through, and I don’t want you to worry that I am, because I’m not. I mean, I’m open to it if the right person comes along, but I’m not actively looking. I like to think we’re friends now, and everyone can use another friend, right? And who’s to say it can’t be the kind of friend they don’t have to have strict boundaries with?”

The little lines between his eyes were adorable, but they also said he didn’t know exactly where she was going with this.

She groaned. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it to. I’m usually better at organizing my thoughts.”

“You were doing fine a moment ago.” He dropped a little kiss on her knee. “Try again. Uncomplicate it. I promise it will be okay.”

“If you ever want or need to be hugged or kissed, I’m here,” she said simply. “I want you to feel comfortable coming to me if all you need is a little affection. No games, no strings.”

“So, are we talking...friends with benefits?” he smirked.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t been thinking that, but now she was. Damn him. She tried to push him into the water again but he pulled her in instead. She surfaced and splashed him. “You suck!”

He was laughing harder than he had all day and she couldn’t help but laugh as well. Their gaiety was infectious. Josh flipped Doug, Doug pulled Rob in by his ankle, and Mason laughed so hard he tipped himself over.

Charlotte and Shawn dragged themselves out of the water before they drowned.

// * // * //

Mason took Shawn upstairs to the room he also still had at his parents’ house. “We’re close enough to the same size. I have dry shorts you can borrow.”

He tossed a pair of blue basketball shorts at Shawn, as well as a new package of Calvin Klein’s. “You can have a pair of those, too. Mom always tucks a pack of new underwear in my top drawer. As embarrassing as it may be, - nineteen and my mom still buys me underwear, - I kind of appreciate it,” he laughed.

“I kind of appreciate it right now, too,” Shawn chuckled. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem... We’re going to start a poker game. You in?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cool. Washroom is just outside the door, to the right. Fresh towels are in the linen closet. I’ll meet you downstairs with a whiskey tonic.”

// * // * //

Shawn knocked quietly on Charlotte’s bedroom door. She eased it open a moment later.

She had changed into a pair of small, black, boy shorts and a pink, body-hugging, lace-trimmed camisole. You would never know she had just had a baby six months earlier. His eyes raked over her form and she did nothing to stop him. She had also noticed him appreciating her figure in her bikini when she had met the boys at the pool. She liked the way he looked at her.

Her hair was long and loose, wavy, and still a little bit wet.

When his eyes finally settled on hers again, she said, “Come on in.”

He threw himself onto his back on Charlotte’s bed, folded his hands on his stomach, and sighed.

She crawled onto the mattress and sat cross-legged beside him. “What’s up?”

“I really like your family.”

They spoke softly so as not to wake Sebastian.

“Me too,” she smiled.

“The more I get to know them, the more I like them, and the more I like them, the worse I feel about lying to them.”

She twirled locks of his damp hair around her fingers.

“I want them to know my name is Shawn and not Peter. I want them to know who I really am. I want them to know that even though Bash is my new best friend, he’s not actually my son. I want them to know that even though we only met six hours ago, his mom is amazing and that they should be so proud of her.”

Charlotte leaned over and kissed his forehead.

“I want them to know that welcoming me into their home tonight has been exactly what I needed to help pull me out of a bad place.”

“If you want to tell them, we can tell them. The sooner they’re told the truth, the easier it will be.”

“I don’t want the night to end quite yet.”

“You’re afraid it will?”

“I don’t know.”

“They already think you’re wonderful. I really don’t think that’s going to change. They’ll understand.”

// * // * //

Part 5

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction

[the-fiction-witch]

Hi

TV SHOW LEWIS

COUPLE ADAM X READER

RATING SMUTTY

Writers notes : (my mind) why. Why am I doing this to myself? Don't we have a long enough character list? Aren't we covering more tbs then literally anyone else? Aren't we covering enough of tbs filmography!

(me) must do more!!!

Yes you read this right I'm seriously very nearly having my character list be just tbs imdb page, yes this character excists in this show for ones episode and is he joining the list yes he damn is! So enjoy my little bubbles

I laid in the bed of this lovely little house doing this trail, I didn't want to but uni isn't cheap and if it helps them put this drug on for those who need it. I couldn't sleep just laying here in the covers looking at the ceiling. I perked up as I heard a gentle tap on my door it came in threes and I knew who it was so I smiled and giggled as quiet as I could "come in"

"Hi" he smiled, poking his blonde head around the door "can I come in?" He asked

"Your not supposed to be in here" 

"Still"

"Come on" I smiled tapping my bed as I sat up so he came in and quietly shut the door he must have been in bed too in his little red tight elastic boxers and his little black shirt with a little box with a speech bubble of meow coming from it he came and stood by my bed rubbing the back of his arm 

"Can I uhh?" He asked looking at my bed and I nodded so he smiled and climbed in with me "hi y/n"

"Hi Adam" I smiled "how are you today?'

"Weird. These things are making me fucking weird" he explained "and they are fucking messing my shit up"

"Thanks just what I wanted to know" 

"Sorry."

"It's fine adam"

"Well sometimes you need to know this stuff. If we're gonna live together… your gonna really experience it" 

"That's true." I shrug

"Are you okay?"

 "I'm just not sleeping well that's all"

"Yeah well I imagine your kinda a control group as you don't have anything wrong with you" 

"Adam. There's nothing wrong with you" I smiled holding his hand "you have obsessive compulsive disorder there isn't anything Wrong with you"

"I have level nine extreme obsessive compulsive disorder" he corrects 

"I know adam. But that doesn't mean these something wrong with you" I smiled "your just my organized ocd little snuggle bug" I smiled giving him a cuddle

"Awww" he cooes hugging me too "that's sweet" he smiled "are you okay though really? Taking these things?"

"I'm fine, just sleepy. I'm happy to do it"

"For the money"

"And to help. The more people It can be checked thought the better it'll be and then people like you who will need it sometimes it'll be there" I smiled 

"Thanks y/n. And the money helps"

"The money helps"

"Ummmm especially if we want our little house" 

"Umm, our nice little house" I smiled "it's worth it for our little house"

"Yeah, ohh did I tell you about this morning?"

"No."

"That damn townie girl. The one who's here with her boyfriend?"

"Yeah?"

"I was on the kitchen this morning just trying to make a damn cup of tea, an she comes in and tries to get the milk to make some cereal and she accuses me out of nowhere of grabbing her ass." He complained "she was so adamant about it her boyfriend nearly bloody beat me up"

"Awwww I'm sorry adam"

"It's fine. Damn townie pricks."

"You didn't, right?"

"Why would I grab some townie girls ass when I'm here with my girlfriend?" He cooed kissing my head "and why would I fear her boyfriend if I did. If I grab another girl's ass I'm gonna be terrified of you!"

"Why?"

"You seriously trying to tell me you would not murder me if you found out I grabbed a girls ass?"

"Maybe"

"See. And you watch enough true crime to know how to kill me"

"That's true. It's fine adam I know you wouldn't touch the townie girl" I giggled 

".... I'm sorry y/n"

"It's okay-"

"No really, I'm sorry. I didn't know if I did I would never have let you come"

"Ohh wouldn't you?"

"No, no I mean we wouldn't have come. Either of us. We wouldn't have done it of I knew she'd be here" 

"Adam. It's fine. Really, she's your ex girlfriend it doesn't bother me, I trust you"

"Really?"

"Of course"

"Umm I love you"

"Awww adam, I love you too" I smiled giving him a little kiss 

"You uhh.. wanna know something else?"

"Yes?"

"Those tablets are doing something else to me?"

"Are they? What is it?"

"They are making me rather… horny" he smirked, stroking his hand down my back, one hand grabbing my ass and the other stroking down my arm until he pulled my hand over to feel the erection standing tall in his boxers "what about you? They make my little sugary girly horny too?" He smirked moving his hand that was on my ass under my nightie to stroke my panties 

"Not particularly adam" I giggled admittedly enjoying his little strokes so starting to stroke up his chest in that little way I know he likes and ever so slightly stroking my other hand over his -

"Ummmm liar" he growled moving his hand away from mine to gently cup my breast slowly fondling me

"There not. Honest" I giggled giving his neck a kiss or too nuzzling my nose into the crook of his neck and starting on a slow hiki 

"Then am… I making you horny?"

"Maybe" I smirked "or maybes it's just been were seeing each other all day everyday without classes and such to interrupt us, and even sleeping in the same bed most nights" I giggled

"Maybe, does that mean this is how it'll be when we have our little house?"

"Most likely"

"Good. I am so gonna bang you on the floor the minute we get the keys sugar" he smirked pulling me to kiss him 

"Not that very minute adam, at least wait till we move in"

"No, I won't wait as soon as we get the keys we have to christen our pretty house don't we?" He smirked "and I swear it might take me a week but I'm gonna have sex with you in every single room"

"What are these tablets doing to you" I giggled

"I don't know, why?"

"I like it. '' I smirked, pulling on his shirt and pulling his lips back to mine, dragging him down to lay on top of me.