#I remember the people who request for things

[retroaria]

boyfriend rin headcannon queen?

a/n: holy shit how have i gone this long without making rin bf headcanons??? thank you anon im gonna give you a kith 💋

˚｡⋆❀˖° BOYFRIEND RIN ˚｡⋆❀˖°

❀ Itoshi Rin x gn!reader | all characters aged up 18+ | SFW

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 🐢 -aria

pre-boyfriend!rin who is much less intimidated by his feelings for you than people may expect. he understands how he feels and he accepts it, but no way in hell is he telling you about them. he tries to push them down as far as he can for as long as he can. doesn’t want the distraction and is a little insecure about how he’ll be as a boyfriend.

pre-boyfriend!rin who goes out of his way to introduce himself to you, help you out with stuff, get things for you that you need, but not without complaining (as if he isn’t giddy at the thought of just being around you). “Seriously, you can’t do this on your own? If you’re going to hurt yourself doing it then just let me handle it.”

pre-boyfriend!rin who gets jealous and possessive as if you’re already his partner. tries to get your attention on him instead of others without showing how he’s feeling. always makes it a little too obvious though, especially when he literally grabs your arm and pulls you away. “That guy’s a loser, just stay with me and he won’t bother you.”

pre-boyfriend!rin who invites you to hang out just to sit and talk in his room, invites you to his games and practices, gets defensive about introducing you to his teammates, and proceeds to act as if all that isn’t couple level interaction. rin finds solace in the thin line he walks between acting like you best friend and acting like your boyfriend. he likes the way he gets to act in regards to you without actually having to explain himself or his feelings. however, the thought that you aren’t actually his and could be taken from him at any time is enough to push him past his comfort zone and lead to his confession.

pre-boyfriend!rin who lets his feelings build up to an unbearable point and only then does he confess to you. his confession comes off a little passive aggressive. he isn’t sure how to explain how he feels without saying that you did this to him or you did that to him and he had no other choice but to fall in love with you. he unintentionally rambles on during his confession, drawing it out a bit too much because he isn’t sure when to stop, and he could honestly go on forever about how much and how deeply he feels for you. slowly but surely his tone becomes more affectionate and he shuts up in a moment of embarrassment awaiting your response.

boyfriend!rin who so quickly loses the tough guy act once you guys start dating. the beginning stages of physical touch and intimacy hit him like a semi truck and he can’t help but melt into a puddle any time he gets to be in your arms. he slugs over to you after practice and games, still sweaty and heaving, and plops himself over your shoulders. tries his best not to put all his weight on you but just enough for him to feel cradled. he swears laying in bed with you is some kind of mind control ritual that you perform on him because how else could you get him to so easily open up and share a piece of his mind with you? the stillness of the night, the softness of the sheets, the comforter, and your skin against his; it makes him feel so safe he doesn’t even let the words that come out of his mouth process in his brain first.

boyfriend!rin who takes you on very sweet and simple dates. likes sitting by the water with you, walking along the beach or at the park. he likes aimlessly kicking a soccer ball around with you in his backyard while you guys talk. dates with him feel more like hangouts, but sometimes he does like to put in a little extra effort to make it something special.

boyfriend!rin who has absolutely no wandering eye or intentions of being with anyone else. remember how difficult it was for him to just be with you? nah, no way is he doing that again. plus he’s got the best partner in the world so it’s not like he would ever want to risk that. because of this he would let you have a lot of say in his appearance. his haircuts, his clothes, even the body wash and cologne he wears. obviously he still wouldn’t let you choose something that he doesn’t like, but he wants you to like all of it too and he doesn’t mind catering to your preferences on him. you’re the only person he’s trying to impress and he wants you to feel confident about that.

boyfriend!rin who secretly wants everyone to know you’re his but also doesn’t want to make a spectacle out of you. he tells his teammates about you, occasionally will post about you, and he comments on all your posts. I can’t imagine him doing a hard launch, but he’s not afraid to mention in interviews or in conversation that he is in fact taken and in love.

boyfriend!rin who greatly appreciates the advice and support that you give him. he’s got some issues he needs to work through, and he feels so lucky to have you by his side. not judging him or scolding him for acting the way he does, but instead teaching him love in new ways and guiding him towards better understanding of others and behavior. he really starts taking things more seriously when you’re around, specifically in regards to separating his attitude on the field and off the field. he holds you like water in his hands and he wants that to help him learn how to show others and himself that same tenderness when necessary.

boyfriend!rin who is very possessive but not over protective. he lets you go out and dress up and look hot for the whole world to see. he trusts you with his whole heart and the idea of someone trying to hit on you while he isn’t there doesn’t scare him. he does hate when people hit on you while he is there though, it makes his blood boil. he goes into predator mode and literally forces you to cling to him like you’re his cub. he’s definitely the type to fight with other guys in your instagram comment section, would stop after you tell him that it’s kind of embarrassing though lol. god forbid someone from a rival team makes a comment after seeing you at one of his games, he’s literally devouring them on the pitch and then probably trying to beat the shit out of them after.

boyfriend!rin who purposely puts things on the highest shelves in your shared apartment so that you have no other choice but to ask him for help. he reaches up and grabs whatever you need, handing it to you with the stupidest smirk on his face.

boyfriend!rin who always needs to have some point of contact with you when you’re together. he isn’t big on pda at all and would cringe if you tried to be excessive about it, but he will admit he just needs your hand in his almost all of the time. if not that then he’ll opt for placing his hand on your lower back or on your thigh.

boyfriend!rin who is so whipped that he looks through your socials and his personal pictures of you multiple times a day when he’s away for games. he genuinely gets homesick for you and hates the feeling. calls you when he wakes up in the mornings and before he goes to bed at night, and of course is texting you throughout the day. he’s not a gimmicky guy but he loves getting you little souvenirs from the different countries he visits. his gifts are always tasteful and he knows what you like so don’t worry.

boyfriend!rin who is the best gift giver! he’s so doting and attentive that he knows you like the back of his hand and never fails to surprise you with items, trips, events, etc. that you absolutely love.

boyfriend!rin who is super freaking awesome and cute and im only writing this bc i feel weird ending the post on something random lol. all hail rin itoshi. the rin stans have convinced me!!

LOOOOORD forgive me i know it’s been like a week since my last official post but im a working woman, a single mom who works two jobs who loves her kids and never stops with gentle hands and the heart of a fighter im a survivor bro yall wouldn’t understand. anyways im trying to get back on my regular posting schedule bc i have so many requests to fulfill so stay tuned aria nation - peace out ✌️

[itneverendshere]

you and your sister going out to the store, and milo’s so wiggly in the cart and you over hear your sister tell him “go hang with uncle rafe” and he zooms to rafe and it’s so cute to see

thank you for the request!!! 🫶🏻🫂 it's so cute watching them all grow up/old together it kills me

i'd give up everything - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

It’s almost golden hour, and the parking lot of the grocery store is lit in that perfect, warm light that makes everything look prettier than it is. You’re pushing the cart while Monica’s next to you, holding onto Milo’s hand as he bounces with energy he clearly stole from the depths of kid’s chaos. It’s like he never stops.

You can’t remember the last time this kid sat still.

“Why did we even bring him?” You laugh, watching as Milo keeps trying to wriggle out of her grasp. "It's like he's allergic to being still."

Monica sighs, throwing you a half-hearted grin. “I know, right? Kid’s got more energy than I did in college.”

Milo makes a break for it, slipping out of her hold and darting towards the cart. He’s got this wild grin on his face like it’s the most fun game in the world. And to be fair, it kinda is. His growing legs are sprinting towards the cart before Monica can even react.

“Come on, Milo!” she calls after him, rolling her eyes but not too mad about it. She’s used to this routine by now.

You scoop him up, plopping him back into the shopping cart with a laugh, wheezing in the process because wow he’s grown now. “I got him,” You say, but he’s already jumping, trying to climb out like some mini escape artist. His hands grip the edge, feet kicking out as he tries to launch himself toward freedom.

“You know who’s better at wrangling this kid?” Monica says with a smirk, like she’s got the perfect plan up her sleeve.

“Don’t say it,” You warn, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Go hang with Uncle Rafe,” she sing-songs, like it’s the solution to every kid problem in the world.

And, of course, the second the words leave her mouth, Milo’s entire face lights up. He lets out this high-pitched squeal, the kind that only a soon to be six-year-old can make without bursting their vocal cords, and he’s off. He shimmies out of the cart like a squirrel, landing on the pavement with all the grace of a tiny athlete.

“Milo, wait!” You laugh, but honestly, you don’t even try to stop him. The kid’s determined, and you all know where he’s headed.

Rafe’s leaning against the hood of his truck, looking way too cool for a grocery store run. He’s on his phone, completely oblivious to the tornado zooming his way.

Milo barrels into his legs with full toddler force, grabbing onto his jeans like his life depends on it. “Unca Rafe!” he shouts, voice so full of excitement it makes your heart flip. 

Rafe looks down, caught off guard, but then his face softens into this smile that’s...it’s so unfair how cute he is. How does he manage to go from looking like the most intimidating guy in the world to this softie in two seconds flat? It’s criminal, really.

“Well, hey, little man,” He says, tucking his phone into his pocket and crouching down to Milo’s level. “What’s up? You causin' trouble already?”

Milo giggles, throwing his arms around Rafe’s neck in the clumsiest, cutest hug. Rafe lifts him up with ease, like he weights nothing, holding him against his chest like he’s done it a thousand times before — which, honestly, he kinda has. 

You lean against the cart, watching the whole scene unfold, and you can’t help but smile. It’s such a simple thing, but the way Rafe is with Milo always gets you. Like, he’s got this side to him that not a lot of people see, this soft, caring, protective side that only comes out when he’s with the people he loves. And watching him with your nephew? Yeah, it makes you feel things. Big, mushy, embarrassing things.

“He’s obsessed with you, you know,” You say as you walk up to them, folding your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow.

Your boyfriend gives you this cocky grin, holding Milo with one arm like it’s nothing. “Can you blame him?” he teases, winking. “He’s just like his auntie.”

Even though you roll your eyes at his teasing, there’s no denying that he’s right. Milo is kind of like you—especially in the way he seems totally infatuated with Rafe.

You can’t blame him.

“I don’t know who you think you’re flattering right now,” you reply, smirking as you grab a few of the grocery bags from the cart. “But fine, I’ll give you that. Kid’s got good taste.”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm, while Milo tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, trying to get his attention again. “Unca Rafe, can I go in the truck?” Milo asks, bouncing with the same boundless energy that’s been following him all day. You really miss the days he called him Rafey.

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at you for approval like the responsible uncle he pretends to be sometimes. “What do you think? You wanna let him play around inside?”

You shrug, already giving in because, let’s be real, there’s no stopping Milo when he’s this excited. “As long as he doesn’t drive off, I’m good.”

“No promises, baby."

Before you can say anything, Rafe’s already tossing Milo into the air, earning a high-pitched squeal that echoes through the parking lot. You can’t help but watch, feeling that familiar tug of affection as he catches him effortlessly, setting him down in the open passenger door of his truck.

Milo immediately starts pressing all the buttons, making the truck beep and flash like he’s setting off a mini-light show, but Rafe doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He’s leaning back against the side of the truck, crossing his arms as he watches Milo with the prettiest smile on his face. 

Monica finishes loading the last of the bags into her car, and she glances over at the scene unfolding in front of you with a smirk. “He’s a natural, huh?” she says quietly, nudging you with her elbow. 

You try to play it cool, even though your heart’s swelling in your chest. “Yeah, he’s alright,” you joke, but the truth is written all over your face. You’re totally, hopelessly in love with the guy standing there, pretending not to care that Milo’s probably activating every feature his truck has to offer.

Your sister gives you a knowing look, like she can see straight through your attempt to be nonchalant. “Milo’s lucky. He’s got you both wrapped around his little finger.”

You laugh because, yeah, that’s probably true. Milo’s got this charm that no one in your family can resist, and Rafe’s just as guilty of it as you are.

As if on cue, Milo pops his head out of the truck window, eyes wide with excitement. “Unca Rafe, can I honk the horn?”

Rafe shoots you a glance, “Should I let him?”

You sigh dramatically, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Go ahead. Just don’t blame me if he thinks he can do this every time.”

Rafe laughs, reaching over to ruffle Milo’s hair. “Alright, little man. One honk. Make it count.”

Milo slams his tiny hand down on the horn, the loud sound blaring across the parking lot, and you wince even though you knew it was coming. Rafe’s laughing, Milo’s giggling like he’s just pulled off the prank of the century, and you—well, you’re just standing there, taking it all in, wondering how you got so lucky.

It’s moments like this that make you realize how different things are now. Two and a half years ago, if someone had told you that Rafe Cameron—golden boy, Kook prince, with a reputation for being that guy—would be standing here, playing the perfect role of doting uncle to your nephew, you probably would’ve laughed in their face.

But here he is. 

And here you are, watching the two most important boys in your life bond over something as simple as honking a horn. Rafe catches your eye again, his grin softening as Milo scrambles back into the truck, happily babbling to himself about how loud it was.

“Think he’s ready to drive it for real?” Rafe jokes, stepping closer to you.

“Absolutely not,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But thanks for getting him all wound up right before we’re supposed to head home.”

Rafe shrugs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “What can I say? He’s fun to mess with.”

You roll your eyes but lean into him, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who’s gonna have to deal with him next time he demands a honk.”

Rafe chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you both watch Milo crawl back over to the driver’s seat, completely mesmerized by the truck’s dashboard, “You know I love it.”

You glance up at him, and for a second, you feel this overwhelming sense of gratitude—like you’ve somehow stumbled into the best version of your life without even realizing it. This is the guy who has seen you at your worst, dealt with your stubborn streak, and still chooses to stick around. And not just stick around—he’s fully here, present, loving your nephew like he’s been part of your family all along.

You can’t believe he only left rehab a month ago. 

“Okay, but seriously,” Monica says, glancing between you and Rafe, “How am I ever going to survive without seeing you being in love every day? It’s sickening.”

You can’t help but snort, nudging Rafe with your shoulder. “Sickening, huh?”

“Pleases,” she rolls her eyes but is smiling. “I can’t believe you’re moving together.”

“Moving in?” Milo suddenly chimes in, his head popping out of the truck window like a jack-in-the-box. “Are you gonna live with Uncle Rafe forever?”

You share a look with Rafe, and he raises his brows in mock surprise. “What? You don’t wanna share her?”

Milo’s eyes widen, contemplating this monumental decision as if it were the biggest thing he’s ever had to think about. “Will I get to come visit?”

“Every day if you want,” Rafe assures him, still grinning as he crouches to Milo’s level again. “You can help us cook and make all the noise you want. We’ll even have a trampoline in the backyard. Sound good?”

Milo claps his hands, clearly sold on the idea. “Yes! And can we have pizza every Friday?”

You chuckle, glancing at Rafe. “I think we can manage that.”

[librababe99]

Can I please request Jason Todd being jealous of reader and Dick who are close (in age and as friends)? Their ease and dynamic with each other brings out all of Jason’s insecurities as he has a crush on reader.

Anon, I absolutely LOVE this request and finally was able to finish something I think you might just like! 🥰

Title: In the Shadows of a Grayson

Tags: Jason Todd x Gn!Reader, friends to lovers, angst with happy ending wc: 1.4K

Jason Todd wasn’t the brooding type, at least not anymore. Well, maybe he was—but he didn’t like admitting it. He had come a long way since his days as the vengeful Red Hood, as the outcast Robin. But certain feelings were harder to shake than others, especially when it came to you.

You and Dick had been friends for as long as Jason could remember. You were close in age, shared interests, and had that easy, effortless rapport that made everyone in the Batfamily smile. To Jason, it was like watching the sun and moon, two celestial bodies that were just meant to be in sync. He hated it, if he was being honest with himself. Every time you laughed at one of Dick’s jokes, every time you gave him that affectionate look, Jason’s chest tightened.

Not because he disliked Dick. No, Jason respected his older brother more than he’d ever admit. He’d take a bullet for him without hesitation, but seeing the two of you together—seeing you with Dick—it hurt. It was like a reminder of everything Jason wasn’t. Dick was charming, confident, and always knew the right thing to say. Jason was the opposite: rough around the edges, quiet, with his words always coming out too harsh or too clumsy. He never knew how to talk to you the way Dick could.

And the worst part? You were perfect for Dick. At least that’s how it seemed in Jason’s eyes. The way you two talked about old movies, the way you could spend hours discussing literature or some obscure bit of history that left everyone else in the room confused—Jason could never keep up with any of that. It wasn’t his world, not really.

So, he stood on the sidelines, watching, brooding, nursing a crush that had taken root so deeply it hurt.

"Jason?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He had been leaning against the balcony of the Wayne Manor, the Gotham skyline stretching out in front of him. The cold air did little to ease the heat rising in his chest when he turned and saw you walking up to him, your face lit up in that way that made his heart race.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to act casual. “Hey,” he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

You shrugged, stepping closer to lean on the railing beside him. “Needed some fresh air. Dick’s telling another one of his ‘first day as Robin’ stories, and I think I’ve heard it about a hundred times by now.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, though it was more bitter than he intended. “Yeah, he loves those, doesn’t he?”

“Are you okay?” you asked, a little too gently for Jason’s liking. You had that look on your face, the one that said you knew something was bothering him. You were good at that—at reading people, at reading him.

“I’m fine,” he lied, turning his gaze back to the skyline. “Just… thinking.”

You were quiet for a moment, and Jason felt your eyes on him. It was unnerving in the best and worst ways. He didn’t deserve your attention like this, not when his insides were twisted up with jealousy. You deserved someone like Dick—someone better.

“Jason…” You hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You’ve been distant lately. I feel like… I don’t know. Like we haven’t talked in weeks.”

Jason clenched his jaw. Of course you noticed. You always did. He hadn’t been able to look you in the eye for days now, especially not when you were around Dick. It was too much, and he was too afraid that his emotions would slip out if he let his guard down even for a second.

“I’ve been busy,” he said, hoping that would be enough.

But you didn’t back down. You never did when it came to him.

“I miss talking to you, Jay,” you said softly, your voice carrying a sincerity that made his chest ache. “It feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Jason’s hands balled into fists inside his pockets. You weren’t supposed to miss him. You weren’t supposed to care this much. You were supposed to be with Dick, where you belonged, not out here worrying about him.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he grumbled, though he knew it was a lie. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“About what?”

His pulse quickened. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t tell you. The words were stuck in his throat, a bitter tangle of frustration, self-doubt, and longing. He couldn’t compete with Dick. He wasn’t what you needed.

“Look,” Jason sighed, straightening up and turning to face you, his eyes finally locking onto yours. “Why aren’t you with Dick right now? He’s your best friend, right? You’ve known him forever. Why aren’t you inside with him?”

You frowned, confusion crossing your face. “Jason, what are you talking about?”

“You and Dick,” Jason forced out, the words bitter on his tongue. “You’ve always had each other’s backs. You’ve got the same interests, the same everything. You’re perfect for each other. So why the hell are you out here with me?”

Your eyes widened, realization dawning on your face, and Jason hated how vulnerable he felt in that moment, how exposed his insecurities were laid out in front of you.

“Jason… no.” You shook your head, taking a step closer to him. “I’m not—Dick and I, we’re just friends. We’ve always been friends. That’s it.”

Jason blinked, his mind racing to keep up with what you were saying. “But you’re always with him. You two are so close…”

“Because we’re friends,” you repeated, your tone gentle but firm. “That’s all. I’ve never had feelings for Dick. Not like that.”

Jason stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe you, but the nagging doubts in his mind wouldn’t let go. “Then why… why me?”

A small, soft smile tugged at your lips, and you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Because you’re the one I care about, Jason. I like you. Not Dick. Not anyone else. You.”

Jason’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. You liked him? After all this time, all the late nights he spent torturing himself over you and Dick, you had liked him?

“I’ve been waiting for you to see it,” you continued, your voice quiet but sincere. “But you always keep your distance, like you don’t think you deserve it. But Jason… you do.”

Jason swallowed hard, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to handle the sudden flood of relief and disbelief and hope that surged through him. You cared about him. You liked him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, his voice rough, as if the words were dragged out of him.

You smiled softly, shrugging. “I didn’t want to push you. I thought you’d tell me when you were ready. And… I was kind of hoping you’d notice on your own.”

Jason let out a shaky breath, his mind still trying to catch up to everything that had just happened. He had spent so long convinced that you belonged to someone else, that he had blinded himself to the truth right in front of him.

Tentatively, Jason reached up and cupped your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Maybe a little,” you teased, your eyes shining with affection. “But I like you anyway.”

Jason couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, the weight in his chest finally lifting. He had spent so long hiding his feelings, afraid of rejection, afraid of not being enough. But standing here with you, looking into your eyes, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.

Without another word, Jason leaned down and kissed you, the lingering doubts and insecurities melting away in the warmth of your touch. You kissed him back with a quiet intensity that made his heart race, and for the first time in a long time, Jason let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he could be enough.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breath warm against his skin. “See?” you whispered. “You’re the one I want, Jason. No one else.”

Jason closed his eyes, holding you close, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to breathe.

Maybe he wasn’t perfect, and maybe he wasn’t always the easiest person to love, but as long as you were by his side, he knew he’d be okay.

And that was enough.

[naturesapphic]

Hiiiii can u write a fic about how Billie and reader met!! (With the Billie wall!!!) PLEASEE

Love you mwah Mwahh

Love At First Fan

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff

It was June 2024 in Berlin, Germany when Billie eilish went to do promo for her new album, “hit me hard and soft”. The last time she came here was in 2019 for her first album “when we all fall asleep where do we go”. Now she’s back after five years and you were finally getting to meet her. There were hundreds of fans waiting to see her and you were one of them. You waited out there for about an hour until you saw her.

It was the Billie eilish. Just a few yards away from you. You felt your heart beat out of your chest and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. She sat on the wall where all the autographs were, making it the Billie wall, and she posed for a photo, remaking the one she did five years ago. You watched her in awe and you hope that she would come over to you.

It’s been about an hour since Billie has been here, she signed a plaque that’s going to be placed on the wall, she did some photos, some interviews and even talked with almost all of the fans. Then she got to you and you were absolutely freaking out on the inside. “Hey sweet girl. How are you?” She said and you thought you were gonna pass out right then and there.

“Hi! I-im great! H-how about you?” You stuttered out and she just kept smiling at you, not even noticing or pointing it out which made you grateful. “I’m good! What’s your name sweetheart?” She asked you and you told her your name. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” She said while giving you a wink which made you go crazy. Billie went up to you and gave you a hug, she leaned in next to your ear. “Meet me here in three hours alone okay?” She whispered and she moved on to the next group of people waiting for her.

~ three hours later ~

It’s been three hours and you were walking up the stairs near the wall when you spotted Billie already sitting up there waiting for you. You smiled big and hurried up the stairs towards her. When she saw that you were coming, she matched the smile you had on your face and hopped down. You got up in front of her and smiled shyly. “It’s crazy that im doing this. I’ve never done this before but y/n you entranced me. I don’t know what it is about you or how you spoke to me but I was hooked the first time I laid my eyes on you.” She explained and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“R-really?” You sputtered out and she took a step forward, looking deep in your eyes. “Yes really. I would love to get to know you more y/n, if that’s okay with you?” She asked and you immediately nodded your head yes. Billie reached for her phone in her back pocket and handed it to you so you could put your number in. You put it in and handed it back to her. “Well I’ll tell you later okay? I need to go and finish some more things but get home safe.” Billie said and you nodded slowly, still not believing that this was happening. Billie smiled and waved bye as she walked down the steps and went inside her car as you stood there in disbelief.

A/n: thank you to the two anons who requested this and for y’all’s kind words! I love y’all too! Mwah! I hope the rest of y’all enjoyed! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all! :)

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

i hope you're having a lovely day, blusy!!

can you write about donna and reader having drunk sex and donna was so wild that night that angie, who was sleeping in the room next door, was traumatized. she complained about it the next day but the two can't remember anything because of how drunk they were. and basically reader and donna tried to make up to her by showering her with gifts and doing anything she requests them to do.

angie thought that was the end of it but they did it again the next day 😭 can you make the making-up-to-angie part fluffy? i love your works!!

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your kindness and for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))))

Angie's revenge

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of explicit smut, Minors DNI, alcohol, fluff

Word count: 7,332

Summary: Maybe to drink that liquor wasn't a good idea...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific…” the Duke murmured with that arrogant, third-rate merchant voice.

“If I had a clear idea I wouldn't be asking you, would I?” you said, always watching the door to avoid prying eyes behind it.

“You said you wanted something special and that is a very… abstract concept,” the merchant said with a smug smile.

“Mm, I'm sure what you want is information,” you whispered with a confident look, crossing your arms.

“Information? No, Miss, how can you think something like that?” the Duke said, shaking his head but not removing that horrible smile from his horrible face.

You sighed, rolling your eyes without stopping looking around.

“Okay,” you said, defeated, lowering the tone of your voice. “Tonight marks one year since I've been living with Donna and I wanted to celebrate it with a special dinner,” you explained with an angry hiss.

 Of course, giving information about your private life to that man was the last thing you wanted to do at that moment.

“Oh, a romantic dinner?” the Duke asked, arching his eyebrows unpleasantly.

“No, it's a dinner to look into our eyes and tell us how much we hate each other,” you said ironically, shaking your head. “Of course it's a romantic dinner.”

The Duke laughed scandalously, satisfied with your embarrassment.

“I've always valued people who master the subtle art of sarcasm,” he commented, with a curious look. “It's not very common around here.”

“Yeah, okay, great,” you growled, clenching your fists. “Well, if you value it that much, please help me.”

“I still don't know what you're looking for,” he repeated, with a dark look of satisfaction.

“You know what? I was planning on spending a lot of lei, but I think some nice words will do the trick,” you said in a cocky tone, taking the rest of the order and walking towards the entrance.

“Words are carried away by the wind, Miss (Y/N),” the Duke intervened, visibly nervous, as always when money was mentioned.

“Yes, yes, you can’t be. You can rest assured,” you joked in a disinterested way.

“You're so funny,” the merchant said, laughing. “It’s a pity because I just remembered that I had something special around here.”

“You'd sell your mother for a handful of coins,” you grumbled, leaving the boxes back on the floor.

“Mother? Well, I can't say if your statement is correct since I don't remember if I ever had a mother,” the Duke said, rummaging through his carriage. “Let's see...”

“Something special,” you said with an impatient voice, looking at the old clock in the hall. It wasn't long before Donna came up from the workshop, you'd have to be quick.

“Something special,” the fat man repeated, grabbing a bottle. “I think this is what you’re looking for,” he said finally, extending that bottle with a yellow liquid.

You frowned and took the object, moving it to agitate the liquid inside.

“What is this?” you asked curiously, removing the cork from the bottle and bringing it to your nose. “Lemonade?”

“Not exactly, Miss,” the Duke said, raising and lowering his eyebrows. “Smell it.”

“Ugh,” you said wrinkling your nose when the alcohol traveled through your airways. “Liquor”

“Not just any liquor, dear,” the merchant murmured, moving in the carriage. “Limoncello.”

“Lemon what?” you asked, covering up that pleasant smell again.

“It's a traditional Italian lemon-based liquor, it was Mister Beneviento's favorite,” he commented, watching satisfied as you nodded slowly. “I think it's perfect to make that dinner… A little more special.”

“Yes, maybe,” you said with a murmur. Well, at least it was something. “See how it wasn't that difficult?” you joked, throwing that greedy being another bag of coins.

“If it was difficult for me to do business, I would have dedicated myself to something different, don't you think?” the Duke laughed, amused, counting the coins.

“I don't intend to thank you,” you said with a cocky voice. “Seriously, why do you want so much money?”

“I like money,” the man answered, amused.

“Yeah, okay, great, great...” you murmured, shaking your head and turning slowly. “Well, you can go now.”

“One last thing, Miss...” he commented as he turned the carriage, bringing his eyes to the bottle of liquor. “Be very careful with that, don't drink too much...”

“Yes, yes, yes…” you sighed, nodding reluctantly and entering the mansion, ignoring the merchant's sinister laughter. “Damn, I'm starting to think that Donna only wants me to negotiate with this vermin.”

“Don't say that, tesoro,” a hoarse voice interrupted your stammering and protests. The lady in black was waiting standing in front of you. As always when she appeared, your lips could only smile.

“Oh, Donna, don't look, don't look,” you said, hiding the bottle and walking towards her, comically covering her eye as you walked. “That's it… Straight ahead, watch out for the door,” you said amused, guiding the blind lady towards the hallway.

“What are you up to, (Y/N)?” she asked amused.

You put on your best innocent face and shrugged.

“Nothing, nothing…” you said amused, putting the bottle in one of the boxes and picking them up from the floor. “I'll go to put the groceries in the kitchen… Wait for me here.”

The lady in black laughed shyly as she watched you with that face you fell in love with, that beautiful and wounded face that for you, was the most beautiful.

They always told you that time passed quickly, without mercy, without letting you enjoy every moment. You never believed it.

You thought that time was just a transit, something that had no remedy, that became slow and lazy to make you feel even more sadness and apathy. They were right. A year used to be long. It used to take its time to pass before your eyes but… That year, that precise year, passed like a shooting star.

You were never anyone special, daughter of farmers, devotee of the Black Gods and Mother Miranda (you didn’t have another option either). Your life passed slowly, showing you the darkest side of it, the desperation of not being understood, the construction of your friends' lives, something you couldn’t do.

You had different interests. Marrying a lout and starting a family was certainly not among your priorities. You just wanted to find someone with whom you could share your disagreement with the established order, someone who, like you, didn’t see life as a gift from the Black Gods, but as a slow and tedious sentence.

But one day, the day when your clumsiness made you stumble upon the worst possible person, that day, you wished time would stop.

You were not alien to the Lords, or to Mother Miranda. They were shadows that lived with the villagers as a potential and imminent danger, even though the witch assured that they were only there to take care of you. You never believed that nonsense, you knew that the danger resided in each of the four Lords.

That woman you stumbled upon was one of them, the youngest, the most mysterious Lord, the ventriloquist, the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

No one knew much about that woman, many even refused to look at her as a human being, it was rumored that beneath that dress, that black veil, there was a monster, a monster on the outside and on the inside. Suffering from mental illness since birth, Lady Beneviento became an even darker shadow, one that could hide the brightest sun.

With everything in your mind, your legs began to shake and you started to think that just getting in her way would mean an eternity of suffering. It wasn't like that.

Your innocent smile and the wit you were blessed with caught her attention enough to not want to kill you. She wasn't the only one who saw something in you, you did too.

A soul mate, destiny… You couldn't really say why during a conversation your lips met, why that veil disappeared to reveal the true meaning of beauty, of love.

It had been a year since that kiss turned life into something wonderful for you. You stopped being the simple (Y/N) to live with her in that incredible, secluded mansion.

Living with Donna (and Angie) was a challenge that you overcame little by little. Her shadows, her torments played with your feelings but you never cared, you would always take care of her, and she of you.

There was no monster under the black cloth, but a beautiful and tender woman, dangerous but loving, an incredible woman who little by little became the woman of your life.

That night was definitely special, it was the celebration of that year with her, of the time you had spent loving her more and more each day.

“More wine, tesoro?” the lady in black asked, romantically illuminated by the candlelight. You nodded pleased, extending your glass towards the lady.

“Everything was delicious, Donna,” you sighed grateful for that special dinner. She looked at you and smiled sheepishly, shaking her head.

“There's no need to be accommodating, (Y/N), you tell me that every night,” she whispered, sighing almost as if it were your first date.

“Oh, well…” you joked, arching your eyebrows. “I guess it's already a habit.”

“I, I can't believe you've been with me for a year,” the lady commented, with a slightly sadder look, with the shadows of her demons surrounding her like merciless crows. “I just find it hard to believe.”

“Why? I love you, you make me happy… Why wouldn't I want to be with you for 50 or better, 70 more years? 100?” you said amused, pretending a thoughtful look.

Donna's soft laugh reached your ears, increasing the intensity of your smile, the brightness of your eyes.

“I don't understand,” she said, sighing again, bringing her glass of wine to her lips. “You're a beautiful girl. You shouldn't waste your time with me.”

“Are you kidding?” you asked, dispelling her insecurities in a subtle way. “You're a Lord, you're beautiful... You say beautiful Italian things to me...”

She shook her head, without making her tender smile disappear.

“I don't think these are enough reasons,” the lady in black murmured.

You, fearing a possible tense moment, reached out your hand to hers, caressing it gently.

“Hey, honey... I love you, do you hear me? I love you just the way you are...” you whispered romantically, seeing how the lady had trouble controlling the sadness, the desperation for how unfair life was to her.

“(Y/N), me… Me too,” Donna said, blinking erratically, slowly regaining her composure and relaxing her breathing, which was already beginning to become dangerously labored.

“Me too!” an annoying squeak made you pull your hand back, startling you.

Of course, of course, Angie couldn't leave you two alone at a special romantic dinner. Seriously, she couldn't.

“Angie…” you groaned, annoyed by that interruption.

“Ohhhh, is that a cheesecake?” the doll asked, comically peeking over the table.

“Angie, leave us alone, will you?” the lady said, annoyed by the lack of soft caresses on her hand.

“You're always alone!” the puppet protested, with an unpleasant squeak. “Donna, Donna, do you even remember that I exist too?”

“Yes, Angie,” the doll maker said, shaking her head. “But now is not the time.”

“So when is it? You’re neglecting me! Bad Donna, Silly Donna!” Angie shrieked again.

You rolled your eyes and picked up your piece of dessert, trying hard to ignore the doll.

Luckily, Angie seemed to get tired of you two and disappeared with a comical grumble, which made you genuinely laugh.

“She’s mad…” you joked.

“She’ll get over it,” she said.

“Oh, that's right,” you said, clapping your hands and searching for something under the table, something you had hidden. “Look what I have.”

“Mm?” the lady murmured, reaching out her hand to take the bottle and look at it carefully. “What is it?”

“I think you know…” you said in an expectant tone, raising and lowering your eyebrows. “Open the cap.”

Donna obeyed and smiled in a tender way, as if that citrus aroma reminded her of better times, times gone by.

“Limoncello…” she said in a low voice. “My father used to drink it after eating… It brings back memories to me…”

“Good memories? Please, tell me I haven't made a mistake…” you sighed, hoping that the nostalgia wasn't dangerous, that it was a healthy one.

The doll maker seemed calm, test passed.

“You had a great idea, tesoro… Let me go to get some iced glasses,” she said, standing up and leaning towards you to kiss your lips softly, with that softness that made you tremble.

“Okay,” you said smiling, enjoying a soft caress on your cheek.

The liquor went down your throat in a cool, pleasant way. You had to admit that the Duke had a great idea, Donna seemed happy.

Glass after glass, the conversation moved to your reading corner. A conversation full of words of love, of shy laughs, one that pleasantly reminded you of your first dates.

“Hey, give me another one,” you said amused, extending the small glass towards the brunette, who frowned with a smile and slightly blushed cheeks.

“It's the fourth one, amore mio…” she stammered, pouring you another drink, slurring her words.

“How many have you had?” you asked playfully, giving her a little teasing nudge as she frowned and counted on her fingers.

“Quattro…” she muttered in confusion, shaking her head. “I, I guess it’s not too much.”

“No,” you said laughing, hiccupping unintentionally. “But maybe we should calm down a bit… How strong is this?”

The lady shrugged in a playful pose as you leaned back on the couch, blinking seductively.

“Donna…” you purred, running a finger along her skin erratically, tickling her. “You know what? You look hot today…”

“(Y/N)…” she sighed with a shy smile, sipping from her glass.

“What? Can't I say that my girlfriend is hot?” you protested jokingly, pretending to pout.

It was becoming easier for you to joke or say exactly what you thought, was it because of the liquor?

“Girlfriend?” Donna asked, turning quickly, her face revealing her incipient drunkenness. “Are you my… Girlfriend?”

“Yes…” you said, dragging your voice. “What else would I be? Your maid?”

Donna laughed strangely, shaking her head with a mischievous look.

“I want to tell you a secret…” she whispered, gesturing for you to come closer to her. The smell of alcohol was becoming more and more present in the living room, in that small corner.

 “Oh, a secret…” you said amused, hiccupping. “What secret?”

Donna bit her lip before speaking, covering your ear with her hot breath, one that paradoxically made you shiver.

“I wish you were my maid,” she whispered with a too marked accent, as if searching for words or controlling her language was being a bit difficult for her.

“Mmm,” you moaned sensually, looking into the lady's bright eye and positioning yourself on the couch on your knees, playfully. “Maid, huh?”

“Yes,” the lady said, nodding and playing with your hand, which wandered erratically over her body, playing with the buttons of her dress. “Maids have always turned me on…”

“Hey, Donna!” you said with an exaggerated squeal, surprised by that confession. “Wait, really?”

She faked an innocent face, a good girl look that clashed with that erotic statement.

“Well, well, so the liquor makes you say those things…” you purred again, with an overwhelming heat that made your clothes start to annoy you. “Well, let's drink…”

You awkwardly reached out to reach the bottle and poured two more glasses, which you drank at the same time, in one gulp, letting your throat get even more accustomed to that liquor.

“Come on, come on, keep telling me your fantasies with maids…” you said pushing the lady and climbing on top of her body, with both legs on either side of her hips. “If I were your maid… What would you do to me?”

“Oh, no, I don't want to, hic, be rude,” she said, shaking her head and hiccupping in the same way as you.

You glanced at the bottle, which barely had any of its contents left. Had you gone too far?

“Rude? Come on, tell me, tell me,” you insisted, moving up and down her body. “Look…” you said, keeping your back straight clumsily, raising your index finger and trying to focus your vision. “If you tell me, I’ll, hic, tell you a secret.”

Donna shook her head childishly, with a slightly sinister smile, blinking as if she had the same vision problems as you.

“No… It’s… Pri…Private…” she said, stammering, nervous about your subtle movements on her body, purposely provoking her.

“Donna, don’t be mean…” you complained with an exaggerated moan. “What would you do to me? Wait, wait, I’ll help you…”

Moving, you reached for the bottle again, drinking directly from it and tilting it so she could do the same.

“Finish it all, huh?” you said a bit dizzy, but with the same desire to play.

“Io non sono una bambina…” the lady protested, moving her hands to remove the bottle from her mouth. “Lasciami…”

“Oh… Excuse me, Lady Beneviento… Can I do anything else for you, my lady?” you joked, pretending an elegant voice, inevitably altered by alcohol.

“Taci,” Donna protested with a shy smile, with her cheeks red from drunkenness and that spicy conversation.

“Mmmm, so, maid… I like it,” you murmured thoughtfully, leaning towards her ear. “Would you like me to serve you, Donna? To please you?”

She nodded, panting from the alcoholic sensuality your blurry words conveyed.

“That seems very sexy to me…” you purred, biting her earlobe. “Tell me, if I were your maid, what would you do to me?”

“Mm,” she murmured, with the shadow of disinhibition shining in her only eye, which ran over your figure without any kind of qualms. “I would ask you to clean my dolls…”

“Oh,” you said amused, unintentionally beginning to gently swing your hips, to give yourself pleasure by rubbing them against her body.

“I would love to lift your dress and touch you and then… Put you on your knees and then you, hic, you…”

“I….?” you insisted.

She shook her head with an amused gasp and you protested with a grunt, moving your hips faster.

“Donna…” you said with a sad, demanding tone.

“Use your, hic, imagination” Donna said, laughing amused, putting her hands on your hips so your movements wouldn’t stop. “(Y/N)…”

“Do you like this, darling?” you asked, dragging out your words, biting your lip. “Oh, yes, you like it…”

“You're drunk,” the lady said with a serious tone, but without stopping moving, dancing with your body. “You’ve drunk too much.”

“I guess you haven't, huh?” you joked, putting a finger on her nose, intensifying the drunken look that you endured with a spark of desire.

“I'm a fancy lady,” she protested. “You're not.”

“That hurt,” you said, pretending to stab yourself in the chest. “Let's see, hic, if you're right, I'm going to c… C…Confess my secret to you,” you said, having difficulty pronouncing words clearly.

“With me you don't have... Se...Secrets...” she stammered, frowning and shaking her head, trying to clear the alcoholic haze that was surely clouding her reasoning.

“You think so, huh?” you said amused, leaning back to her ear, licking your lips. “Listen to me... My secret is... I love the taste of your pussy...”

“(Y/N)!” the lady shrieked, with a surprised expression, shaking her head. “Don’t, don't say such rude things... Cazzo...”

“Oh, rude things, huh? Well, you should know that I can’t only say them, I can also do them...”

That was the last sentence you said. Instantly, you threw yourself at her lips, letting your bodies sway more intensely, stealing heat from each other. The kisses tasted of citrus, of the liquor you had consumed. They were clumsy, erratic, almost guided by a primary instinct and not by desire.

“(Y/N)…” the lady protested when your boldness unbuttoned her dress, when your alcoholic kisses began to run over her skin and your hands traveled up her legs.

“Shhh, silence, my lady… I want to fulfill your wish,” you said, going down, lifting the black skirt, making the doll maker uncomfortable.

She protested with a moan.

Her complaints didn’t stop you. You continued with the path that your kisses marked on her skin, moving aside any fabric that dared to get in your way.

“Cazzo!” she shrieked when your tongue made contact with her wet folds, with the desire you could taste between her legs. “More, more!”

Her screams had nothing to do with the romantic Donna she used to be when turning off the light and joining your bodies. Her moans were wild and rude words came out discreetly from her mouth.

You laughed, trying to concentrate on your task, licking her clit, unleashing those wild  moans again before inserting two of your fingers by surprise. Her movements were uncontrollable and her hand pulled at your hair while Donna writhed in pleasure at the skill of your techniques.

The moans echoed through the walls but you barely heard them. Everything was like a blurry vision of what was happening. You moaned feeling her fingers inside of you too, feeling how her body asked for more while stimulating yours.

Kisses, hugs, moans… Nothing that happened seemed to have meaning, seemed to be related. It was like a drunken mess of love and passion, a wild, almost uncontrollable one. The moans were outrageous.

Her body moved crazily on top of yours while your wetness rubbed against each other, while you caressed each other fiercely.

“Sto per venire!” the lady shrieked, tilting her head up as you attacked again with your tongue, running over her excited wetness, that delicious taste mixed with the liquor. “(Y/N), (Y/N)! Keep going, keep going!” she screamed, echoing off the walls of the mansion, accompanied shortly after by several deep, crazy moans, the most outrageous orgasm you had ever heard.

Your release also came or so you thought, as you rubbed yourself against her leg, while your wetness made her skin shine. After that, your mind relaxed, causing the dizziness you felt to become unbearable.

The lady was lying on the couch, running an erratic hand through her hair, across her sweaty forehead, gesturing for you to lie down next to her.

“I want to… Dormire…” Donna murmured, drawing her legs up and turning around tiredly. The alcohol had already completely finished her off, just like it did to you.

“What do you want…? I don’t unders….Underst…Understand, hic,” you asked walking clumsily naked through that corner, grabbing a blanket from an armchair and letting yourself fall on the sofa, covering your bodies with it.

Your eyes closed and the dizziness calmed down, giving way to an inevitable darkness.

The sound of birds attacked your hearing, your head. Your whole body was in pain, your head was throbbing and your throat was burning. It took a while for your vision to focus properly, to see the morning light coming through a living room window.

You looked down and gasped in surprise. You were naked, on the sofa, covered by a blanket. Next to you, breathing deeply, was Donna, also naked, with her body shrunken surely due to the cold that was beginning to make your skin crawl.

“Shit…” you whispered, running a hand through your head, rubbing your eyes. “What the…?”

When you turned your head, sighing, you saw on the coffee table the culprit of that terrible discomfort: the almost empty bottle of limoncello. Your mouth still tasted of that liquor, but your memory was hurt. You didn't remember anything of what had happened.

You shook your head and turned around concentrating to find out what had led you to be like this. The clothes on the floor, the nakedness... Well, at least there were things that were quite clear...

“Donna... Hey, Donna...” you said with a hoarse voice, pushing the body of the lady, who growled annoyed.

You sighed again and shrugged, covering yourself better with the blanket. Surely you should sleep a little more.

Small steps on the wood made you open your eyes again. A soft whistle came from Angie, who walked with small jumps through the house. You followed her with your eyes until she climbed onto the dining chair, glancing at you briefly.

“What…?” you asked weakly, watching the puppet's gestures.

Angie laughed evilly, reaching out to one of the pots hanging from the ceiling wood, unhooking it from its place and looking at you again.

“Oh, no… No… No…” you said, shaking your head at her intentions. “Angie, don’t…”

The doll nodded mockingly and, grabbing the pot with both hands, threw it to the floor, causing a terribly unpleasant noise that tortured your ears.

“Angie!” you shrieked, pressing your temples hard to mitigate the pain the noise caused in your hungover head.

“Non sono stato io!” the nervous lady said, waking up abruptly, wrinkling her forehead and bringing her hand to her black hair. “Oh… Ho mal di testa…”

“Donna…” you sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me you remember anything that happened last night…”

“Last night? No, Io… My, my whole body hurts… I don’t feel well…” she murmured, shaking her head and looking at herself, covering her body immediately. “Why am I naked?”

“Great, I don’t know,” you said, with the same broken voice, exhausted and in pain. “The only thing I remember is that liquor…” you whispered, pointing at the bottle.

“Mm…” she murmured, closing her eye so the pain would calm down. It wasn’t going to do it. “Maledizione…”

“Well, I remember talking something about a maid, but that doesn’t explain why we’re naked on the couch…” you said thoughtfully. “Gods… What a hangover…”

“A maid? No, I don’t remember,” Donna said, covering you affectionately. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“We should have thought about that before sleeping here, naked,” you groaned, frustrated at not being able to remember. “Wait, have we…?”

“I don't know…” the sleepy lady whispered, annoyed even by the soft volume of your voice. “I can't remember.”

“Ahem,” a shrill voice said, the Angie doll, who was walking towards you with her arms crossed. “It seems that you have amnesia, don't you? How convenient…”

“Angie…” Donna sighed, annoyed by the high-pitched tone of her doll's voice. “Shut up, please…”

“Oh, you want me to shut up, huh, silly Donna?” the doll mocked, climbing onto the coffee table and pacing around it haughtily. “Then I suppose you don't want to know what happened last night.”

Donna and you looked at each other, frowning.

“Do you know?” you asked, holding the blanket and sitting upright on the couch.

“Do I know?” Angie asked, pointing at herself. “You've traumatized me, stupid!”

“Don't yell…”Donna and you whispered in unison, shaking your heads with a painful sob.

“It's been the worst experience of my life, Donna! Since when do you say such dirty things?” the doll asked, pointing at her owner, who shrank on the couch, comically hiding behind your back.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” the lady said nervously, starting to blush. You looked at her with the same confused expression.

“Oh, allow me to explain it to you,” the puppet said, pretending to clear her throat. “More, (Y/N), more! Faster, fuck me like the filthy maid you are! That's it, use your mouth, doll, eat me out!”

“Basta, basta, Angie,” Donna said hurriedly, shaking her head effusively. “I couldn't say that.”

“Couldn’t you? Oh, and you too, you Donna-stealer,” Angie said pointing at you. “Yes, Donna, deeper, deeper, use me like the doll I am!”

“Hey, shut up now, is this a joke?” you protested also embarrassed. Well, at least that fit with your nakedness, and clothes on the floor. “Oh, shit… She heard us,” you whispered to the lady in black, who sank in the couch.

“I heard you and the whole village too, I'm pretty sure,” the doll said, crossing her arms. “What are you up to? I mean, to add more things to the fact that you don't stop ignoring me, you have to rub your obscenities right in my face, huh?”

“Angie, it, it wasn't on purpose,” Donna said, stammering. “It was the limoncello…”

“Of course, blame it on the alcohol,” the doll mocked, pointing at the bottle. “You're a couple of drunken nymphomaniacs! I hate you!”

“Angie, wait,” the lady in black murmured, leaning over the doll as Angie angrily climbed down from the table, disappearing from the room. “Don't hate me…”

It might have seemed like one of Angie's passing tantrums, one of her calls for attention, but she was pretty serious that time. She didn't show up for the whole morning. Donna wanted to pretend she didn't care, but her face said it all.

“Grazie, tesoro…” the lady murmured as you poured her some medicine for that horrible headache, one that you also took.

“Honey, you're worried,” you said in a soft voice, sitting next to her on the couch. Poor Donna was so sick that she couldn't even work on her dolls. You should have listened to the Duke's advice.

“It's nothing,” she whispered, drinking the medicine and rubbing her forehead.

“It's because of Angie, isn't it?” you asked in a more tender voice, looking for the doll with your eyes. She wasn't there.

Donna nodded slowly, squeezing her eye tightly.

“I've never seen her that mad,” she said, looking at the ceiling, letting you hug and caress her in a comforting way. “I can't believe we... Cazzo...”

“Well, it was a mistake, neither of us intended to traumatize her, it was a horrible mistake,” you said, with an amused smile, lifting her chin and kissing her deformed cheek, one of her favorite gestures of affection.

She smiled slightly, but shook her head.

“The... incident last night wouldn't be so important if... If she wasn't right,” the lady said, with a tired sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“Angie has always been with me, since I was 6 years old she has been inseparable for me,” the brunette began, looking at the floor, remembering… “She was my only friend and, I, I was so happy when I could give her life… She was my companion, my faithful companion…”

“Mm, I understand,” you said softly.

“You came into my life to turn everything upside down, you know? Don't get me wrong, I don't know what I would do without you but… It's, it's true that I may have neglected Angie,” Donna said, to which you smiled tenderly. “I used to play with her before, talk for hours… And now, it's, it's true that I don't pay as much attention to her and on top of that… On top of that last night… Oh, mio Dio… How embarrassing…”

“Don't blame yourself, Donna, we are both guilty of not having control,” you said softly, rubbing her back.

“I can't imagine how humiliating it was for Angie to see me… like this…” the ventriloquist lamented, burying her face in her hands.

“Well… If you're so worried…” you sighed thoughtfully, controlling the pain in your head. “Why don't we do something for her?”

“Now it's really getting interesting…” a mocking voice appeared by surprise.

Angie, who seemed to be listening (to no one's surprise) suddenly appeared, walking while laughing mockingly and jumping onto Donna's lap.

“Hey, were you spying on us?” you asked amused, trying not to be unpleasant.

“Yes, although last night you put me off doing it anymore,” the puppet said.

Donna smiled tenderly, carefully placing Angie's clothes.

“Perdonami, Angie… I didn't mean to make you feel that way,” the lady said, apologizing sincerely.

“Mm, it's too soon to accept your apologies, silly Donna…” the doll said with a cocky tone, but not getting off her lap. “But I’ve heard something I liked…”

“Let me guess, it's when I said we should do something for you, am I wrong?” you said with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile.

“I think we're starting to understand each other, you silly intruder…” Angie murmured in a sinister voice.

“What do you want?” Donna asked, staring at her, frowning. “We'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

“Well, whatever…” you murmured, catching the doll's attention, who turned her head sharply.

“Do you want me to forgive you, stupid fools?” Angie asked mockingly, standing on Donna's legs. You both nodded automatically. “Well, I want… I want… I want… Oh! Get up.”

You and Donna looked at each other but obeyed. The doll sat on the couch, swinging her legs expectantly.

“Do you remember the puppet show you did when you were 17, silly Donna?” Angie asked, pointing at the brunette, who frowned.

“Yes, of course I remember them,” she said, in a seemingly calm voice. “The Mighty Angie versus the Moon Monsters.”

“Yes, that's it, that's it!” the doll said.

You looked at the lady, confused.

“I want you two to make me a puppet show, I want one of those stories like the ones Donna told me,” the doll demanded, tilting her head.

“What is she talking about?” you asked in a small voice. “A puppet show? It must be a joke.”

“I'm afraid it’s not, tesoro…” the lady sighed, crossing her arms. “Okay, Angie.”

“Well, I'll go get the stuff, you two should do some… Rehearsing…”

The Angie doll ransacked the whole house to take out an old, hand-made stage along with two puppets. One was Angie herself, and the other was a deformed monster.

“Here,” Donna said, putting the stage on the floor and handing that horrible monster you.

“Wait, wait,” you said nervously. “Hey, Donna, I have no idea how to do this, besides, why do I have to be this bug thing?”

“No complaints, silly (Y/N)! Only my Donna can be the Mighty Angie!” the doll protested. You growled annoyed by the irritating voice that still made a dent in your wounded head.

“Calm down, tesoro, you'll see that it's easy,” Donna said, concentrated, touching up the last details of that scenario and kneeling behind it. “Come, kneel with me.”

“Donna, I don't know what this Mighty Angie thing is about,” you said gently, making the gesture of quotation marks with your fingers. “What do I do?”

“I'm waiting…” the doll hummed impatiently, making you growl again.

“I'm coming,” you said in a gruff tone.

Donna smiled at you and reassured you with a soft kiss on your lips.

“You'll do very well, amore mio,” the lady said with a tender voice. It even seemed that somehow she was happy to do that. You thought it was simply adorable.

It was quite difficult at first, but soon you were able to improvise that show. Donna was giving voice to the puppet, which, of course, was the great heroine of the story.

“Get back, stupid moon monster! You don't know who you're messing with,” the Mighty Angie said said approaching where you were sticking the puppet out.

 Seeing Donna doing those things always amused you. You wondered why a woman so cheerful and funny on the inside, was so gloomy on the outside.

“So you are the Mighty Angie,” you said, getting into the role of a dangerous monster, deepening your voice in a way that made you blush. Luckily, Angie couldn't see you. “Surely you're not as mighty as they say... Um... Um... Ha, ha, ha...” you laughed evilly

“You think so, huh? Haven't they taught you manners in your cave, you disgusting bug? Don't worry. I'll take care of that.”

Donna brought her puppet closer to yours, pretending to fight, even making sounds and growls in a really impressive way. She certainly had a talent for that stuff.

“You won’t beat me, you space leech!” Angie’s puppet shrieked, struggling with yours.

“You think you’re so powerful, huh? You’ll never be able to beat me!” the moon monster said laughing evilly as your blush disappeared.

“No, Mighty Angie, it’s provoking you! You’re stronger than it!” the real Angie shrieked, waving her arms excitedly.

“Oh, so you have allies…” you murmured, turning the puppet towards the couch, pointing at Angie with one of its tentacles. “Maybe I should finish them off first…”

“Never!” the other puppet exclaimed, lunging at yours. “Aha, that’s your weak point! Your force shield doesn't cover your back!”

You looked at Donna in confusion and she shrugged, laughing in amusement. You smiled too. You weren't having a bad time after all.

“Oh no, she's figured it out! Mighty Angie, spare my life, I'll leave this planet forever,” you said in a pleading tone, bringing the puppet's tentacles together.

“Too late, space slug!” the small puppet screamed before launching itself at yours for the final attack.

“Oh no… I'm dying…” you said, feigning agony and dropping the monster on the stage.

“Good! Good!” Angie clapped. “Mighty Angie is invincible! That was great, you fools!”

“Ugh,” you sighed, standing up and removing the puppet from your hand, helped by the lady, who did the same, shaking your clothes.

“You haven't been too bad, have you? You're good at it,” Donna commented, bringing her puppet closer to pretend to eat you. “Yum, yum.”

You laughed shyly under her warm smile, approaching her and kissing her tenderly on the lips.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Angie protested, getting off the couch and pushing her owner's legs away from you. “No kisses, silly fools!”

“Oh, come on, we've told you a great story,” you said amused, finally moving away from the lady in black.

“Do you accept my apologies now, Angie?” Donna asked, with a pleading look, extending her hand towards the puppet's.

“Mm, let me think... No, I don’t”

“You don’t?” you two asked at the same time.

“Um, it seems that you don't realize the seriousness of your actions, you drunken fools... If you think that with that show you're going to make me forget about last night, you can wait for it,” Angie said, pretending to look at her nails.

“Angie, we've done what you wanted, hey, we need to rest for a while,” you said, with the kindest voice possible.

“No sleeping!” the puppet shrieked, making the pain return to your head. Donna and you groaned at those shrieks. “You're going to do what I tell you or I won't forgive you.”

“I'm starting to think that it's not so bad having you hating us,” you murmured, crossing your arms. Donna approached, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Per favore, amore mio... Let's play along a bit longer. She'll soon get tired and leave us alone," Donna told you with a sincere look that exuded confidence.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, nodding slowly.

“Okay... Okay, Donna, I'll do it for you.”

That was the beginning of that hellish day.

Angie had taken absolute control of the Beneviento house. You and Donna showered her with little details, whims like balls of wool to play with, children’s games around the house...

Of course, Angie knew how she wanted to spend her time, she had an idea for every moment and you had no choice but to bow your heads and accept. Otherwise, Angie would start shouting the obscene phrases she heard the night before, something Donna couldn't stand.

Damn blackmailing doll...

“What are you doing? Keep fanning me, you fool,” the doll demanded while you fanned. She certainly looked like a queen from another time, even with her own private throne, one that Donna had to desperately search for in the attic.

“What’s the point of that? Can you even feel it?” you asked, sighing tiredly, lying on the floor in a humiliating manner.

The doll slowly turned towards you, with a look you already knew.

“Oh, Donna, use your tongue on my…!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll fan you…” you said annoyed, earning a sinister laugh from the doll.

Your body hadn’t yet recovered from the hangover and, after hours of playing hide and seek, you were increasingly tired. It seemed that Angie didn’t want to waste a single minute of her glorious day.

“But, don't, yell, please,” you hissed while moving your hand.

Donna appeared shortly after, holding a small doll in her hands.

“Here it is,” she murmured, crouching down next to you and giving the toy to Angie. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes!” Angie shouted, getting down from the throne and picking up the small doll. “How pretty it is!” she exclaimed, hugging her gift.

Donna laughed amused, unable to hide her tiredness.

“Thank you…” the doll sighed, hugging her owner in a tender way, like you had never seen before. You smiled too and even more so when Angie walked towards you, giving you the same hug. “Hey, you're being very good to me, fools.”

“I never thought I'd say this but…” you murmured, hugging the doll back. “The truth is that you are adorable when you want to.”

“What nonsense, I always am,” the doll said, gesturing with her hand and playing with her new doll.

“Have fun with your new doll, I think we…” Donna said, taking your hand to get you up and yawning comically. “Are going to take a nap…”

“No way,” Angie protested, with that sinister tone again. “Don't you know what time it is, silly Donna?”

“No…” the lady sighed frowning, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck sweetly.

“Tea time!”

“No, Angie, please…” you sighed, putting a hand on your forehead.

Of course, you had to have tea with her and her dolls… That was the worst part.

“Do you want some sugar Mrs. Thin Butts?” the doll asked, playing with her toy tea set. If only it had been real tea…

You looked at poor Donna who, due to exhaustion, had fallen asleep leaning against the sofa, her head resting on her hand.

“Mrs. Thin Butt…” you said through your teeth, nudging her awake.

“Dove siamo?” she asked, shaking her head.

“I say if you wanted sugar, silly!” Angie shrieked, eliciting another annoyed grunt from you.

Fortunately, that fake tea was the last of Angie’s demands. It took a whole day, but she finally got tired of torturing you.

“Aren’t you having dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, sitting down on the couch next to you, a plate of fruit on her lap.

“I’m not hungry,” you said in a husky voice, curling up on yourself on the couch. “Well, if you give me a piece of that apple…” you said, sitting up and taking the piece the lady cut with a knife, giving it to you in a romantic way.

“It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?” she murmured, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Don’t worry, it’s over.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, glancing at the bottle of liquor that was still in its place. You felt a chill. “Remind me not to drink again…”

“My grandfather used to say that a glass of limoncello was perfect for a hangover,” Donna commented, taking the bottle.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Even if that limoncello is the one to blame?” you joked.

The lady in black shrugged, uncorking the bottle and taking a sip.

“It’s better than last night… But it’s warm,” she said, making a face of disgust. “I’ll go get some cold glasses.”

“Bring me five,” you said, making a vague gesture with your hand.

It was obvious that you hadn’t learned from your mistakes and, when that bottle was already empty, the laughter and babbling reached the dark room again.

“Hey, hey, hey Donna…” you said, unable to stop laughing, climbing up her body again. “Shall I tell you a secret?”

The lady laughed with red cheeks again, with that sinister look that the liquor caused her.

A few quick steps made you look at Angie, who was running away in terror.

“Oh, no! Not again!”

[lucky-clover-gazette]

(for the request thing) sometimes i wonder how Volo would feel/react if someone (like arceus’s chosen 👀) took a blow for him from a wild Pokemon or another person. From his perspective, Volo doesn’t have anyone in Hisui that cares about his wellbeing, and the game alludes to him having a troubled and lonely past, and with him having planned on erasing all life in Hisui in pursuit of his desires, would he feel guilt if someone showed him a level of care that would make them sacrifice their safety for his, when he was ready to potentially sacrifice them for his own sake when it came to Arceus?

(also wanna say ive loved your fics on Ao3, so talented <3)

(also on ao3)

You really prefer not to die in front of other people.

The edges of your vision darken as you shove Volo aside, taking the full force of the Alpha Vespiqueen’s attack. You manage the subdue your attacker with a well-aimed sticky glob and ultra ball, but not before suffering an undoubtedly fatal blow.

The consummate merchant comes to you at once, leaning over your fallen body with an oddly indecipherable expression. Usually Volo is abundantly obvious with his feelings, whether he’s passionately rambling about ruins or earnestly praising your efforts as the hero of Hisui. But the man you see now, as your vision begins to blur, simply stares.

“Caught it,” you brag.

His grey eyes widen slightly. You haven’t shared this with him, but you’ve always found them rather beautiful.

“You shouldn’t have…”

“Saved you?” you ask with a dry chuckle. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

Volo furrows his brow. Reaches out to touch you, then pulls his hand back.

“I sincerely apologize,” he tells you, bowing his head. “If you are to perish in these circumstances, you deserve to know—”

You die and can’t hear the rest.

And then you open your eyes.

You stand on your feet now, in the last place you felt safe before the Pokémon’s attack. Volo still kneels in the distance, seemingly unaware that your body has been replaced by a fallen satchel containing your entire supply of ultraballs, a fire stone, and exactly four medicinal leeks.

You frown. This is going to be awkward.

“Hey, buddy,” you say, coming up carefully behind him. Volo’s back goes rigid at the sound of your voice, his head turning around at once.

“You—you!!”

You rub the back of your neck, sheepish. “Surprise?”

“You died!” Volo exclaims with an accusatory finger-point. “I just saw—” His head swivels to the satchel on the ground, then he turns back to you. “How?”

You sigh and sit down beside him. “Chosen One perk. I die, Arceus says my work isn’t finished yet, I get another shot. It happened for the first time when I fought Lord Kleavor. I had no idea what I was doing, and it took like a dozen tries before I got good.”

Volo looks horrified. “You’ve died a dozen times?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why—”

“My death count’s definitely in the triple digits now. Lord Arcanine was ten times worse than Kleavor, because of all the fire and bullshit arena. At least Lady Liligant was a total pushover.”

“Did it not hurt?” demands Volo, his face growing noticeably pale.

“Oh, it totally hurt,” you admit. “But somebody’s got to deal with it, and I’m the only one around here who’s been made invulnerable by God.”

Volo looks as if he’s been slapped. You suppose that’s fair, considering the shock of witnessing your death and resurrection. But to you, this really is just another Tuesday.

“I know it’s disturbing,” you sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder. His muscles are tense. “That’s why I try my best to make sure people aren’t around to see it. Just easier that way, you know?”

Volo wears another unreadable expression.

“Sucks to lose a satchel, though,” you say, lightly. “Thanks for keeping an eye on it. Without witnesses, I usually lose some of my stuff. Never the plates, though, don’t worry.”

He still looks lost in his thoughts, which is no good. You don’t know how to explain that this happens all the time, for much less important reasons than protecting your favorite person on Hisui. The pain is a small price to pay for his safety, and you’d readily pay it again.

“I thought you died,” Volo eventually says. “Saving my life.”

You elbow him playfully. “I guess Arceus is looking out for you too.”

His expression darkens. “No.”

“No?”

He looks you dead in the eyes, with a different sort of intensity than you’ve come to expect from the eccentric wanderer. “Under an unjust god, endless life is endless pain. Do you truly wish that for yourself? For the world?”

Distantly, you wonder what exactly Volo had thought you deserved to know before your presumed demise. You have a feeling he’s not going to tell you now.

You offer him a hand. “Well, unless you’ve got a better god laying around somewhere, I think we’re stuck with what we’ve got.” And I like what I’ve got, you absolutely do not tell the merchant. I like that I’m here with you.

Volo still seems distracted, but he takes your hand anyway. “Right,” he mutters, and then smiles. “We live to fight another day.”

You rub your thumb against the side of his hand. “And maybe someday, we won’t have to fight. We’ll have everything we need.”

You can picture it, with him. You wonder, maybe foolishly, if he might feel the same way.

Supporting you is actually an investment in my own fortunes, Volo had told you once.

You would protect him regardless of your personal relationship, of course. Just as you protect the rest of this world. You want things to be better, for everyone, and intend to use your god-given powers to ensure that your dream becomes reality.

Volo nods, his sharp gaze fixed on your joined hands. A chill runs down your spine as he squeezes.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Someday.”

You smile softly.

“I think I can live with that.”

[adoresia]

Hello there (　＾▽＾)

I read you were taking requests for JJK. I'd like to request something w/ Choso... maybe something along the lines of Reader frequents a small local coffee shop, Choso just happens to be the owner & barista on shift.

• Reader is a coffee connoisseur

• Choso remembers the flavors she likes & dislikes

• Fluff/Angst

• fresh coffee kisses ○o。..。o○

— Flavors of Us

⋆.˚ Featuring : Choso x fem!reader

⋆.˚ Sia here! : HELLO ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS IN IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HEHEHEHDHSHDHHEHSHSHEHS (I Love these Choso requests. I love my man. Just look at him. ISNT HE SOOO FINEEEE 😫😫) okay anyways really sorry I took so long write this I hope you like it!!,

The cozy warmth of *Kurobai Coffeehouse* enveloped you the moment you stepped inside, the familiar scent of roasted beans and rich espresso curling around you like a comforting embrace. The quiet hum of the café settled in your bones, a welcome reprieve from the outside world. You weren’t a stranger here—this little corner shop had become a second home to you over the past year. But more importantly, your boyfriend Choso was here!

Behind the counter, Choso moved with his usual quiet precision. His tall, muscular frame was slightly hunched as he adjusted the grinder, his long dark hair tied back in a messy bun, the small parts of his bangs framing his pale, sharp features. Even from across the room, you could tell he was focused on his work, his sharp, pale features set in that familiar, pensive expression. Choso had always been a bit shy, and sometimes a little clueless when it came to people, but he had this way of paying attention to the things that mattered. Especially when it came to you.

He looked up as you approached the counter, and the hint of a smile tugged at his lips—a subtle gesture, but it was one you’d come to recognize as reserved just for you. His eyes softened, though there was still that flicker of uncertainty behind them, like he was never entirely sure what to do with the feelings you stirred in him.

“You’re early today,” he mumbled, his voice low and quiet, as always.

“Thought I’d change things up,” you replied with a teasing smile, leaning casually against the counter. “But I’m guessing you already know what I’m going to order, right?”

Choso’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. You watched as he silently replayed your usual preferences in his mind, the way he always did when you teased him like this. Over the months, he’d learned exactly what you liked and disliked when it came to coffee. You weren’t just a casual drinker—you were a connoisseur, and Choso never let you down.

“Colombian beans,” he said after a pause, his tone thoughtful. “Medium-bodied, floral, no sugar… but maybe not too strong today?” He glanced up at you, his expression uncertain as if waiting for confirmation.

You smiled, genuinely impressed. “You know me too well.”

A faint blush crept up Choso’s neck, and he quickly turned back to the grinder, his hands moving a little faster than before. “I just… pay attention,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You bit back a laugh, charmed by his bashfulness. He was always like this, quietly remembering the details that mattered—what kind of beans you preferred, the strength of your coffee depending on your mood, and even the way you liked to linger at the counter just a little longer when the café wasn’t busy. He never made a big deal about it, but that was just who Choso was.

As he worked, you let your gaze drift around the café. The wooden floors creaked softly under your feet, the low jazz playing in the background adding to the cozy, intimate atmosphere. The shop was small, tucked between two towering bookstores, and the soft glow of amber light from the sconces bathed everything in a warm, golden hue. You loved the way it made the world outside seem far away, like you and Choso were the only two people in it.

Before long, Choso slid your cup across the counter. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled your senses, rich and floral with a hint of brightness. It was perfect—just like every other time he’d made it for you.

“Thank you.” you murmured, your fingers brushing his as you took the cup from him. You noticed the way his hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary, and your heart skipped a beat.

Choso glanced away quickly, his cheeks tinged with pink again. He was always so easily flustered, especially when your hands touched, even after all this time.

You took a sip, savoring the way the flavors bloomed on your tongue. “It’s perfect, as always,” you said softly, meeting his gaze over the rim of your cup.

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the compliment. “I— I’m glad,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He was trying to play it cool, but you could tell your praise had gotten to him.

The café was quiet today, only a few other patrons scattered at tables, engrossed in their books or laptops. With the lull in activity, you leaned forward a little, resting your elbows on the counter. “You’ve really got this down, huh? I could never make coffee this good.”

Choso’s eyes flickered to yours, then back down to the counter. “It’s just… practice. I’m still learning.”

“You’ve mastered my order, though,” you teased, your voice low and playful. “That’s gotta count for something.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. “I just… don’t want to get it wrong. Not for you.”

The sincerity in his words, paired with the soft, almost nervous look in his eyes, made your heart clench. For all his awkwardness, Choso always managed to say the things that mattered most without even realizing it.

You felt the warmth of the coffee in your hands, but there was a different kind of heat spreading through you now—the kind that came from being so close to him, from the way he looked at you like you were the only person that mattered.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers gently curling around his wrist, tugging him just a little closer. “You never get it wrong, Choso,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

His eyes widened, startled by the sudden closeness. “I—” He tried to speak, but the words died on his lips as your gaze lingered on his mouth.

Before either of you could second-guess it, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing softly against his. The kiss was gentle, tentative, as if testing the waters, and for a moment, Choso froze beneath your touch. But then, slowly—so slowly—he melted into it, his free hand coming up to rest on the counter as if steadying himself.

The taste of fresh coffee lingered on both your lips, bitter and warm, mixing with the softness of the kiss. It wasn’t rushed or sloppy—just slow and sensual, like savoring the perfect brew. His lips were slightly parted, unsure but responsive, and you could feel the slight tremble in his breath as your lips pressed a little more firmly against his.

When you finally pulled away, the café seemed quieter, the world smaller, as if time itself had slowed for just the two of you. Choso’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed a deep red that stretched all the way to the tips of his ears.

“I—uh—” He tried to speak, but the words were jumbled, completely lost to the haze of what had just happened. “Was… that okay?

You couldn’t help but smile at how utterly flustered he was, his usual composure shattered in the most endearing way. “Yeah, Choso,” you whispered, your thumb brushing lightly over his wrist. “It was more than okay.”

He blinked, still dazed, but a small, shy smile tugged at his lips as he nodded. “I’m glad.”

And just like the perfect cup of coffee, the moment lingered—warm, comforting, and undeniably sweet.

[mythosidhesdollhouse]

Shibajuku Girls: The Return?

Soooooooooo I've been debating whether to post about this at all because I doubt anyone will find it very interesting, but doll gossip is thin on the ground these days and I'm not quite ready to go to bed yet, so eff it let's go--

Alright so, those of you who follow these things may remember back during this year's Toy Fair it was announced that for some inexplicable reason the Shibajuku Girls doll line was planning a comeback. For reference: These 13" dolls from the Australian toy company Hunter Products originally turned up on shelves in the US back in the mid-2010's, to a fairly lackluster reception. Between their unusually high price point ($30-$35, a good deal above the average for fashion dolls at the time) and the fact that they are a rather blatant knock-off of Pullips, no one seemed to be that into them. In a way with their hair play gimmick (a lot of charms and hair clips) meant to interest children in Japanese street fashion I suppose one could see them as a precursor of the Decora Girlz, albeit with far lazier and less successful execution. I did end up buying one--Yoko--for the big head collection, and she's...fine, if forgettable. I like having her in the mix for variety, but I could never quite work up the enthusiasm to get another. The demise of ToysRUs around the time of their release probably didn't help matters any, as it was one of the few places that stocked them. These dolls lingered on the shelves of my local Target seemingly forever, before quietly disappearing to absolutely no fanfare.

But to bring it back to Toy Fair 2024--

For reasons that NO ONE I've heard speak on the subject can quite understand, seemingly out of nowhere Hunter Toys showed up at Toy Fair this year with a display of older dolls from the first two waves of Shibajuku, plus a wall of these mock-ups for a projected third series of anime-inspired characters. If you look closely at the 'prototype photos' in the boxes--not actual dolls--they appear to literally just be restyled Pullips. A lot of people (myself included) speculated that they may have put the money into creating a new head sculpt that more closely replicated the doll this line was always made to emulate, and the lack of actual dolls in boxes was a sign that this Shibajuku 2.0 head had yet to go into production in time for the event.

Turns out--no. That's not what they did at all. So--

A few days ago through a series of random browsing encounters I stumbled across listings for two of the five proposed 'Shibajuku Anime' dolls on Walmart's website. They are showing up as out of stock, but if you put them on your wishlist you can add them to your cart from there (though not check out), which is a pretty sure indication that they're expected in stock online and in stores soon.

So...what to say about these. First of all they quite obviously have the same old Shibajuku face. The fashions have considerably less detail than the prototype photos, which in itself I'd be willing to forgive for reasons I'll get to in a minute, but the main thing that overwhelmingly stands out to me here is that Kiki, one of the two characters shown with a darker complexion in the mock-ups, has gone from having tan skin and white hair to pale skin and black hair. Which, yeah no fuck that. No way of knowing if this was the brand's decision or a specific request from Walmart, but whichever way you slice it, it sucks. Lack of diversity was a huge issue with the first iteration of this line, and after the promise of a course correct it looks like we're back to more of the same. I will definitely be bending a critical eye on them to see if the other dark-skinned character, Sakura, receives a similar whitewashing :/

Now, with that rant out of my system, is there anything good to say? Well, the price, for one. These are set to retail for $19.98, which is significantly below what they sold for originally. No doubt the lower quality fashions and lack of accessories have a lot to do with it, but on the whole I'd say it's a plus. Also...as much as as I would have loved to see the ensuing drama if they had had the audacity to churn out a more blatant Pullip clone, for continuity's sake if nothing else I'm glad they stuck with the old face. She's a weird little bird and despite it all she deserves her place in the wider family of Big Head dolls, however derivative that might be (I mean, if anything Pullip needs MORE clones, Blythe has such a start on her in that arena....).

And finally (FINALLY) to wrap things up--will I be buying one? Perhaps surprisingly--yes! I plan to order Akira when she becomes available to ship. I think she's decently cute--you all know my bias for green hair--and I have a purely academic curiosity to compare her to my 'classic' Shibajuku. Plus, despite all my dismissive snark, I would actually like to see this relaunch be successful. I'm always in favor of diversity in the doll market, and this particular type of doll has been sadly under-represented of late. There is plenty room on the shelves for more big head girlies! MGA is daily signing that real estate away at an increasingly rapid pace XD My hope is that they do well enough to warrant the release of the other three dolls from the proposed new line-up, and that maybe--MAYBE--if the Dolly Gods are kind we will see Sakura with her original dark skin tone, as intended.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee ok that's enough sleep-procrastinating for one night, I'm done. If anyone else cares about this at all I'm sincerely curious to hear your thoughts.

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass ch 10 pt 2

masterpost

Gotham was a closed fist that night, tense and ready. Black Bat gleefully swung out to match it.

Before they even left the batcave, Barbara Eyes called in to tell them that there was a hostage situation. Black Bat and Robin cleared out the civilians trapped in the building while Batman riddled the SillyMan. Batdad was still glowering at the truck to take SillyMan back to Arkham when a fire broke out in an apartment complex.

Sad.

Robin was too little to drag grown people out of windows, so he worked triage as Black Bat evacuated residents and hunted for pet cats. The fire trucks arrived. The blaze went out, but the building was still dangerous. Black Bat kept an ear open and paid attention to Robin through comms as she made sure everyone was out into the night air. He found the people with carbon monoxide poisoning and he gave strict instructions and he said, “Move! You, when the ambulance arrives, call for an AED.”

Black Bat moved.

The chihuahua in her equipment pouch quavered and shook, because he didn’t know that Robin was too 8-years-old to administer the correct pounds of force for CPR. The cat clinging to her front yowled a war cry and dug 20 toes into Cass’s armor. Good cat. They all went down the outside of the building together to where Robin was starting CPR. He glanced up at Black Bat as she arrived. Rhythm? Perfect. Depth? Not enough.

Again, Robin is small. Human body is the limit. Weighs about 50 pounds. Baby birds have light bones.

“Trade,” she said tersely. “Cat.” The dog was secure enough.

Robin professionally took the cat and Black Bat did chest compressions. An old man wailed, hands in his thin hair. The old lady laid there on the cement in a sooty house coat with bony, bare feet. Air puffed out meaninglessly with the lung massages. Robin leaned forward to do the breaths, cat held against his chest and cradled carefully with one hand. 

Black Bat focused. Bone in the chest cracked under her hands. She grimaced, the expression hidden under her mask. If only she could reach in and directly massage the heart. She would give it the squeeze that would bring grandma smokey lungs back and the old man would stop crying, crying, crying–

Her hand slipped.

She stopped.

Black Bat looked at it. Her wrist was poking out of the victim’s chest. No blood, no broken skin, no force. Strange feeling, like being in fog and jello. She flexed her hand carefully and it brushed through bone and veins.

“How convenient,” said Robin. “Can you apply direct stimulation?”

She felt for the heart. Found the depth. Wanted it. Yes! Black Bat grasped carefully, butterfly-gentle.

It worked! Holy shit! Black Bat laughed incredulously. “Moving!” she said. 

Robin held his hand up to check for breath. “She’s breathing,” he reported, so pleased. We did it. We have done the only thing that matters.  He had? No curiosity as to how she had done this. She had big sister powers, that was how. Haha, Robin. So cute.

The man started to pray, little things like “Thank you, sweet lord, thank you, thank you.”

Black Bat stood up, looking around for something soft and warm. The lady had bare feet. She would be cold.

Fortunately, she saw the blue lights of the first ambulance arrive. She waved it over. A line of others were right behind it. The people who Robin had arranged for triage reported for treatment.

“I request that you do not speak of this,” Robin said tersely to the old man. Good bird. “It would be very inconvenient for Black Bat if the criminal element understood her full capacity. I, in turn, would make life very inconvenient for you-”

“Have a good night,” Black Bat interrupted. She reeled Robin away, found someone who knew the dog, and barely remembered that Robin had to give the cat back as well. Once this was done, they went back on patrol. Cass felt like she was in a dream. Maybe? Maybe being a dead little girl was a good thing.

There was a carjacker working busy-bee, there was a mean man shoving his boyfriend into a wall outside a club, there were a dozen little fights. They should have been too busy to deviate from patrol. But Cass felt a restlessness in her chest to go back, back to the mechanic. More than before, she felt full of strange energy and possessiveness. This was her Gotham. It was her territory. Pretty mechanic girls can’t go put magic guns on her street: it is rude. 

So Black Bat stopped in a private place to consult with Robin, using talking hands. No voice: no Batdad weighing in.

Robin agreed.

Yes! 

They went. 

If it was anything like the other night, Miss Jacqueline would be asleep on her couch. They would sneaky in and loom until she woke up. Then, they would fight.

Or talk. Whichever.

[married-to-google-translater]

HIYAHIYA HIII!! May I request L Lawliet and Mellow headcanons⁉️⁉️😆💗 really just for being a relationship! (Separately please by the way) if you don’t do two characters at a time then just Mellow please!

OK CYAAA HAVE A LOVELY DAYAAYAYYYY💖💗💖💗💗💕

Mello

Mello would come into your life suddenly and almost out of nowhere.

However, you got along really well with each other and your relationship started quickly.

This would probably be Mello's first relationship.

A relationship with you would do wonders for his inferiority complex.

For once he would have something that N doesn't have.

Mello would really love you and not hide his feelings.

You would be really important to him.

Mello is a guy who shows his love in actions more than in words.

He could easily become hot-tempered if Mello perceived someone as a threat.

Mello would be a bit overprotective of you.

He wouldn't be stupid...

Mello knows he's putting you in danger by dating you.

However, he can't stay away from you.

You are one of the few who see Mello's softer side.

He should hold you and share chocolate with you.

Tenderness would be a new thing for Mello.

However, he would try for you.

L Lawliet

You and L would meet before he became the best detective in the world.

It was a sweet crush at first.

Pretty normal relationship.

You went on a lot of dates in different cafes.

Your relationship would change when L became the world's best detective.

L would like to protect you.

A lot of people would want to hurt him in some way and they would stop at nothing.

L would share all the sweets with you.

However, maybe not as much sugar for you as for him.

L's sleep rhythm would be really bad and only you could change it XD

You should also make sure that he remembers to eat properly.

L wouldn't be the best to take care of himself.

L would usually be able to concentrate better in your presence.

Sometimes L would also ask your opinion on his work matters.

It would help him more than you know.

[fuwaprince]

When somebody only uses my chosen name while putting me down, it kind of makes me wish I didn't have a name at all.

And when somebody only uses my pronouns when they try to coerce me into something, then switch back to they/them when talking about me to anybody else, it kind of makes me uncomfortable af.

I sincerely do not enjoy being labeled or referred to. Being referred to is such a negative experience for me irl.

Yet not giving people a set of name/pronouns when they ask automatically seems to make them think you're secretly a serial killer trying to cover up something?????? Or like you're untrustworthy and must be hiding because you're a Bad Person instead of just not wanting to label yourself.

Can I just please not be forced to label myself for everybody else's comfort?

I feel like that information is so personally intimate anyways like unless you know me and we're close, why do you even care? I don't think it's necessary for the first stages of getting to know somebody even though in this culture we've normalized it to be that way.

Plus if I don't give you a name then I have the opportunity to earn one. Give me a name that you think I deserve and let it be what you honor me by instead! How about that? It's probably the only way I'll be comfortably perceived since some people will change my labels as they see fit regardless. Just call me what you like, I feel like my name/pronouns have been corrupted as is

[abyssembraced]

Where did Ghost really go before returning to Hallownest ?

Frankly, the question that was asked of them was one that Ghost wouldn't mind knowing the answer to themself.

Their memories... Even their early ones from when they first returned to Hallownest were hazy and fragmented. The more challenging fights they'd faced in the Crossroads and their first encounters with the bugs they'd come to call their friends still existed in their mind, yet lay scattered and untethered from each other with unknowable gaps in between, with no certainties as to even the order in which any of the events occurred.

Before that? They knew hardly anything of their past.

What did they do in the vast, endless wasteland outside Hallownest? What caused them to return to the fallen kingdom? Why did they even leave it in the first place?

They didn't know.

They typically didn't care to think on those questions much, either—it made more sense to focus on the present, and the things they knew now, rather than dwell on an unrecoverable past. Yet, here they were, being asked to recount those lost memories.

They... Could at least make an attempt?

Grasping at those memories was hard. Though they knew for a fact that they had spent much of their life outside the kingdom's bounds, it was as though the memories of that time had never existed in the first place.

But... They could fight. Even before coming back to Hallownest, they already knew how to wield a nail. So, then... They must have met someone out there. Travellers, perhaps. Someone who taught them how to fight—or at least the basics of it, anyway. Perhaps they were even the one to gift them the nail that had since carried them through many battles, or maybe that was a different Someone.

But who? Ghost couldn't picture them. They didn't even know for sure that such a person had even existed, but it only made sense, right?

...

There was only one time that they had ever managed to recover a long thought lost memory, and that was with the Dream Nail. If they were to enter their own dream once more, unlock the hidden secrets within their own mind... Would that give them answers? Would it do anything at all?

Although... Did it even matter? The stranger's curiosities aside, they... Didn't particularly care about discovering their past. It wasn't as though whatever it was that had happened back then could be changed. Nor did they think that learning anything new about it would affect their present life. They were happy where they were right now, with their family and friends in the recovering Hallownest.

Yes.

They didn't remember what they did before their return to Hallownest, but that was okay.

[eliseliedl]

users 10 years ago: i will request gifs from this gifmaker cause i love their gifs!

users today: i will request gifs from this gifmaker so someone else does all the work for me because i don't know how to make them and i can repost them on all my socials!

[sol-air]

Okay I gotta just put this out there I don’t care. It is really tough finding a place for yourself in groups of people as an extremely white passing mixed race person especially when your family was ashamed of their culture and never taught you anything.

I feel stuck all of the time, I swear I’m just constantly seeking to belong in a group but none accept me. I see posts all of the time that are like “even if you weren’t raised in our culture but are from our race, yes including mixed race people, you are still one of us” but to me it’s just performative. I need to see that and feel that. I have been denied access to so many groups and clubs because I’m not black enough or not native enough. And I know that some people are like “why not just hang out with white people?” Because it’s not the same, I want to belong somewhere too, I still go through struggles, just not as many, but I’m outcast from white society as soon as they learn about me. The only other people that I can ever talk about this with are other mixed race people. I can barely talk about this with my siblings because both of them are obviously poc or mixed race…

This isn’t really to say anything about or to anyone, it’s just really frustrating feeling cast out from so many groups when it comes to talking about heritage and cultures. I have them!! I truly do but I can’t celebrate anything because I’m not “x” enough to belong, or I’m too much of “y”.

[mothoscope]

The Monkeemen...if they were, uhhh, awesome...

Tumblr made this way too small so check under the “read more” for close-ups.

[bunnyb34r]

Two medium, two topping, pizzas should not cost $50 with tip 😭 wtf is this shit