#I hope I still have some of my old pitch ideas because I think there were some I did really like

[centeris2]

it is surreal seeing Antheia and Hemera walking around in game now. Like... wow. I helped make you. I named you.

And you two were an absolute nightmare oh my gosh. I think they may have been my most time consuming magic horses...?

[samkerrworshipper]

underneath the surface

umm so i’m back.. kind of? this fic was a rollercoaster but i hold it very near and dear to my heart. i hope you all enjoy it and find some comfort in it because i definitely do <3

warnings: no warnings just some medical jargon and talks of endometriosis!

Alexia has always been credited for her attentiveness.

Most people say that it’s the reason she’s such a good captain, and of course, she denies to everybody that she just goofs around less than some of her teammates.

But, inevitably, it’s true, Alexia is a lot more attentive than other people. She pays attention to the small things, the under the surface things, things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at.

Although, in her opinion, she doesn’t need to be observant nor attentive to be curious about this one part of your relationship.

It doesn’t take brilliant observation skills to recognise a pattern, from the age of two most people are able to recognise patterns. For a two year old, it’s colours and shapes and different farm animals. For Alexia it’s become an observation.

It’s routine, a pattern, a constant repeat in your relationship that for the first few months she ignored.

Like a broken record constantly repeating itself, every month, without fail, you disappeared for a couple of nights.

Not literally, for those days you’ll retreat of the pitch and inside to the gym but Alexia still sees you everyday, and for the most part, you’ll still go out for coffee with her and go on walks together, but for at least three nights, sometimes up to 7, there are no sleepovers, no late night movie binges, no dinners.

It went unnoticed by Alexia for longer than normal, love was Alexia’s biggest weakness and it subtly impaired her abilities to be as observant as she prided herself.

Who could blame her? It was hard to be detail oriented when she was too busy enjoying the puppy dog love that came from realising that she was so in love with her life with you, even if it was still relatively new.

But, even with her focus partially impaired, it didn’t take a whole lot of skills to recognise the abnormality of what was occurring.

It was particularly abnormal, because for every other day of the month, you spent your nights at Alexia’s. Alexia would even go as far to say that you're pretty much moved into her apartment. Your dog had a bed in her apartment, your training kit and bag had a permanent spot at her door, most of your clothes were now sitting next to Alexia’s in her wardrobe.

Your apartment, for the most part, existed purely for the sake of storing all of your furniture. Alexia had brought up leasing it, you’d been dating for almost a year now and whilst it was a short time to move in with each other, the two of you spent so much time together that to her it made the most sense. Beyond that, it was her way of testing the water, to see if her observation was as real as she began to think it was.

Your immediate denial of the idea confirmed what she had been beginning to think.

Originally, she’d thought that maybe you were overwhelmed from constantly being around Alexia, it was a lot being at training together all day and then heading home to each other.

It didn't make sense though.

When you were together, you were attached at the hip. You were both naturally clingy towards each other and after questioning Mapi about it, as ambiguously as she could, she was backed up in that it wasn’t normal behaviour for an overwhelmed person to be so eager to be so connected.

So, the theory was canned and when the following month the same thing happened, Alexia’s curiosity peaked once again.

She moved onto a theory that maybe it was some kind of homesickness, that you just needed to sleep in your own bed a couple of nights every month.

But not only did you constantly complain about your own apartment and how unhomey it felt in comparison to Alexia’s, it was always the same week every month.

Which should have been the biggest clue, and yet for whatever reason it had completely slipped past Alexia.

It was only when one of the team doctors had approached Alexia about her cycle changing, that it all clicked for her.

Alexia’s period had skipped, and they’d logged it a couple of months ago. Obviously, without noticing, it had been because the two of you had synched up, which made plenty of sense.

Alexia’s period was an inconvenience, but it wasn’t a true bother, just something she had to put up with. In all honesties though, for her, her period was nothing to her, she had hardly any symptoms, her body functioned the exact same way, everything was almost the exact same.

Yet, every month, when apparently your period came around, you happened to disappear for a couple of days. Alexia would have loved to think it was a coincidence, but with her new knowledge, she decided to put it to test.

She wasn’t surprised, when the following month her own period came, a couple of days later you were back to hiding out at your place for a couple of nights.

Like lightwork, when you came back to Alexia, you were the exact same, like nothing had happened, and yet Alexia was certain that there was something being hidden underneath the surface.

A lot of people were insecure about their period, Alexia had grown up in a house full of girls, her period had been anything but stigmatised, and she was grateful for that.

She was self aware enough though to know that not everybody was fortunate enough to have that same experience. She was also aware that unfortunately, sometimes peoples partners could be unaccepting and close minded about those kinds of things.

So, when the following month, Alexia got her period and without fail, four days later you mentioned that you would drive yourself to training so that you could head back to your apartment afterwards, Alexia was already plotting away.

She had time to think about it during video review that day, there wasn’t a lot to focus on then when the team was coming off of a 4-0 win to Atletico and anything that was of importance, aAlexia had already noted when she’d watched the immediately after the game.

It was a sound plan in her mind, chocolate, a heat pack, your favourite italian takeaway, Alexia’s favourite hoodie that you always tried to steal and your favourite blanket from her apartment.

Alexia wanted you to know that you could be just as comfortable in her home, regardless of what was happening. Hopefully, in knowing that, you’d let go of the part of you that was so clearly avoiding Alexia.

Alexia, above being observant, liked to be a problem solver. She liked to take initiative, she liked to fix things.

So, after a shower and a quick snack when she’d returned home, she packed up all of the supplies. On the way to your apartment, which she hadn’t visited in months, she picked up food and then was on her way.

In the early months of your relationship, it had just been easier for the two of you to spend time at Alexia’s because it was closer to the training grounds and more lived in.

Whilst you’d been living in Barcelona now for nearly three years, your home was still in England, and it had been hard for you to fully settle into Barcelona even if it was your home for now.

Alexia knew it, so she’d welcomed you into her home with open arms. It had been heartwarming for her to slowly watch you integrate yourself into Alexia’s life, it made her happier then anything else.

So, she made her mind up that whatever this bump was, she was going to help you get over it, so that she could have all of you, and most importantly so you would feel like Alexia cared.

The feeling that Alexia got as she pulled up next to your car in the lot of your apartment was chilling, in her gut it felt like something was wrong. It was a feeling that set into Alexia's stomach as she stepped out of her car and hurried to collect her things before making her way over to the elevator.

Alexia stays as composed as she can manage, even though on the inside, the worry is starting to set in.

It’s not like theoretically she has anything to worry about, it’s not like this is an abnormal situation, but the weird feeling in Alexia’s stomach is putting her off and the only thing that she can think will make it better is seeing your face.

All Alexia wants to do is wrap you up in her arms for a moment, for her own peace of mind, to stop the off feeling that has been resonating inside of her as she’s tried to get to the bottom of this problem, that’s not really a problem. It’s an inconsistency, and one thing about Alexia is that she doesn’t like inconsistency. She fixes problems, she doesn’t enjoy living life whilst there is something that isn’t quite right, and she needs to make this right.

Alexia knocks at your door quietly, two little raps that she hopes you hear.

When she receives nothing in response, she knocks again, this time a little bit louder.

Alexia waits a few seconds, whilst it’s been a couple of hours since your session there is the off chance that you're in the shower or bath.

After quite a bit of waiting with no noises from the other side of the door, Alexia knocks once more, already pulling her keychain from her pocket and feeling for the spare key to your apartment.

When she finds it, she pulls it up to the lock, waiting just a few more seconds before slotting it into the keyhole and twisting it until it clicks.

The first thing Alexia notices is that your apartment is completely pitch black and if it weren’t for the fact that she saw your car earlier, she might have just left.

Alexia tiptoes her way through the entryway and into your kitchen, it’s hard to see much with all of the blinds pulled shut and none of the lights on, so she blindly feels around for the light switch until she finally finds it and flicks it.

The immediate groan that comes from the direction of your couch definitely does not go unnoticed by Alexia.

“Lights off.”

As fast as she can, Alexia turns the light back off, before curiously tiptoeing over to the edge of your couch.

You’re a lump under a pile of blankets, but she’s able to make out the shape of your body underneath it.

“Hey baby.”

You groan again, and the feeling in Alexia’s stomach only gets worse.

Alexia takes a few steps forwards, assessing you in front of her.

Her hand reaches out tentatively for you, she feels around the mass of blankets until she feels a part of your body underneath the pile of fluff, she follows the lump until she makes her way up to your head.

Your whole body is warm, or the blankets are warm, she isn’t actually quite sure where the blankets end and your body starts.

“Why are you here?”

Your voice is all croaky, and Alexia is certain you must be sick and she’s somehow missed all the symptoms of it.

“I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Alexia’s hand finally finds a bit of skin on your neck and she traces her fingers until she finds your jawline.

“Go home, Ale.”

The sound of your voice is making Alexia antsy, she can’t believe she’s missed the fact that you are sick.

“No, bebita, you’re sick and I’m here to look after you. I have your favourite food and chocolate, we can cuddle up in bed and you can sleep this off. I brought my hoodie for you.”

Alexia turns your head up, so your hair is peaking out of the blanket mound and she can see your squinted eyes.

“I’m not sick, Alexia.”

You keep your eyes crammed shut for the sake of not making the pounding headache you have any worse.

“Bebita, you’re all hot and croaky, it’s okay to be sick, I’m here to look after you.”

If you weren’t working so hard to keep your eyes closed you’d roll them, but that seems like far too much work for right now.

“Alexia I’m not sick, I’m just on my period.”

Alexia’s brow furrows, if your eyes weren’t closed you’d catch it. It’s the same furrow that always happens when Alexia thinks somebody else is wrong and she’s right.

“Bebita, this seems like a little bit more than a period. It’s okay, I’m here.”

You groan and Alexia recoils slightly.

“It’s just my period.”

Your deadpan makes Alexia confused.

“Your period shouldn’t be this bad. Are you having some heatstroke? It’s been warm out today, or are you having a migraine? You need to remember to hydrate.”

Your head is throbbing and Alexia’s theories aren’t helping.

“I have endometriosis Alexia, this is what my period looks like.It’s not fucking heatstroke or a sickness it’s just how my body is..”

Out of everything Alexia had been suspecting, that wasn’t it.

It suddenly dawns on Alexia that she can’t fix what you’ve just told her, she’s standing in front of you completely dumbfounded at what to do in this moment.

Alexia is a problem solver, she finds solutions for the biggest and smallest problems, and yet she doesn’t have a solution for the problem she is being faced with.

“Baby, just go home, the first night for me is always the worst, if I feel better I can hang out with you tomorrow.”

Alexia doesn’t have a solution to the pain you are going through, but she knows she isn’t going to let you suffer alone. The information that you’ve been doing this by yourself for a year now is making Alexia feel like the worst girlfriend ever and she’s going to change that.

“No, bebita, no. I’m staying here tonight, I’m here for you mi vida. Would it make you feel better if we got you into bed or into a bath? What’s going to make you more comfortable? Have you had medication? How about some food?”

When another groan leaves your lips, Alexia becomes aware that she’s approaching this the wrong way.

“How about I go and put the food in your kitchen and you decide what’s going to make you feel best. I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

Alexia quietly tiptoes back into your kitchen, taking her time to put her things away and pulling two bottles of water from your fridge before making her way back into your living room.

You’ve emerged from your pile by the time she is back, your eyes are still closed but just seeing your face makes Alexia’s nerves settle just a little bit.

“Can we go to my bed, please?”

Alexia smiles at you softly.

“Of course amor, do you want me to carry you or do you think you can walk?”

The apprehension on your face is enough of a answer for Alexia.

She walks over towards you, picking up your blanket fort and body like it’s nothing and gently lifting you up, stepping carefully in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan out at the change of position, nothing feels good at the moment but Alexia’s arms are more comforting than the scratchy material of your couch cushions.

When she makes it to your bed, she lowers you down like you are the most delicate piece of glass, making sure that you’re tucked underneath the sheets before easing you out of your arms.

“Do you need anything? Heat pack? Water? Talk?”

Again, all Alexia’s words do is make the itching pain all over your body ten times worse, it’s all consuming and makes you feel choked.

“Bed, hugs, that’s all I want.”

Alexia is antsy, she wants to make the pain you are in better, she wants to know what to do right now instead of being completely blind in the situation.

“Are you sure? How about some pain relief or a cold compress?”

Alexia is no doctor, and up until five minutes ago she had absolutely no idea about this whole situation and whether she feels like she can admit it or not she’s terrified about it all.

She’s made up her mind that as soon as you're asleep she’s going to go on a deep dive of google searches to get to the bottom of this whole situation, but that will have to wait.

“Alexia, if you want to be here, just get into bed and give me some fucking hugs. I’m not in the mood to be told what to do with my body when I’ve been dealing with this for years, make up your mind of whether you want to be here or not.”

Alexia avoids conflict with you at all costs, she’s earned the title around your football friends of being your puppy dog, because she simply agrees to anything and everything that leaves your lips, and hearing you remotely mad at her makes her crumble.

“Sorry bebita, I’m so sorry, you’re right. I’m here for whatever you need.”

Alexia makes quick work of slipping her shoes off, something she never got around to in the darkness of your entryway.

She follows by taking her socks and outer layers off, stripping down until she’s in her tank top and a pair of old Barcelona training shorts.

Once she’s done she creeps around to the other side of your bed, slipping underneath the covers as subtly as she can manage.

When she’s completely covered, she lies back, unsure of how to approach all of this new information.

“You’re lying like a rigid corpse.”

Alexia gulps, she can see you in her peripherals, you look absolutely exhausted and in the kindest way possible, ten years older with the amount of wrinkles across your skin, bumps and ridges she can only imagine are the tightness holding in all of the struggle that you’re going through underneath the surface.

“Alexia, I’m okay, I’m not dying.”

Alexia knows theoretically that is true, she doesn’t have endometriosis and she’s not close to anybody who does, but she knows what it is. She knows it’s not cancer or something life-threatening, but the depth of the realisation that you’ve been suffering for so long and have kept it from Alexia is slowly pulling her apart at the seams.

You roll over slightly, it causes shocks of pain to go up and down your back and stomach, but you need the comfort as much as Alexia does, even if she isn’t ready to accept it.

She’s going through her process, compartmentalising all of it so she can be the brave and stoic face she always is.

You’re used to it, and you’ve come to realise that even though in these kinds of situations it seems like Alexia needs to be left alone, in reality she needs to be kept close by her nearest and dearest.

So, you worm your way on top of her body, it makes the cramps ten times worse and the nausea takes control of your stomach, forcing somersault after somersault, but when Alexia’s arms reach around you out of instinct it’s worth it.

You’re in pain, your uterus feels like it’s got knives embedded along the lining of it, like there are needles poking in and out of your back and gunshots being fired across your lower abdomen. But you’re well used to it, you’re used to the feeling of needing to throw up from having such intense throbbing pain across your whole core.

You’re used to the pounding headaches and migraines that come naturally from your body being so inflamed and agitated that all the tension eventually spreads to every single inch of your body, from the tips of your fingers to the edges of your toes.

Your head settles on Alexia’s shoulder, and her hand snakes it’s way down to the outside of your thigh, she’s being more cautious than she’s ever been with you and the normal you would probably be heartwarmed by her sweetness but the part of you that is currently seeing the worst kind of stars because of the cramps coursing through your body is just desperate to climb into her bones now that she is here with you.

It’s been ingrained in you since you were a kid that it was best to not bother other people with your weakness, it was your own struggle, your own burden.

You’d kept it from Alexia for this sole purpose, for the purpose that you knew she would take it all on as her problem, that she would try and fix it all and spend all of her time and energy trying to solve it all when you just wanted her to treat you the exact same.

She treated you like a princess everyday, but add a crippling reproductive condition and you knew she’d treat you like a priceless artefact. You were grateful you had a person in your life who would move heaven and earth in such a way for you but it was suffocating sometimes, when you were functioning on a normal level.

It was with those thoughts running rampant in your head that you slipped off into the same light sleep that you were lucky to drift into in these circumstances.

Whilst you drifted off, Alexia was left alone with her own thoughts.

Insecurity wasn’t something Alexia experienced often, she was secure in her body, she is as secure in her football as she has been since her knee injury, she’s secure in her family and up until today she felt completely secure in her relationship.

Now, she doesn’t know how she feels.

She knows that it’s likely you have a good reason to have kept this a secret, or a reason that you’ve justified to yourself. She knows underneath it all, you’re the one who’s secretly been hiding a big insecurity from her and she has no right to be truly mad about it, she’s disappointed that you haven’t felt able to share this with her when it feels like Alexia has bared all of her deepest, boniest secrets with you.

She does what makes sense, she reaches for her phone from her short pocket and begins to google all of the big questions that are swirling around in her mind.

You might have wanted to keep this a secret from Alexia but now that she knows about it she’d be a bad girlfriend if she didn’t educate herself on this.

So, instead of drifting off to sleep, Alexia drifts off into the land of medical journals and words that she doesn’t understand the meaning of but she’s determined to figure out.

You wake up in the morning in less of a state of excruciating suffering, instead of being stuck in a fiery inferno of hell you feel like you're dancing more on the periphery.

Your body is warm, in a way that makes you feel less like your insides are scorching you from the inside and more like you're generally just hot.

It feels like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon as you try to unroll from the blankets that you’d swaddled yourself in the night beforehand in an attempt to try and make yourself feel as small as possible in hopes it would somehow shrink down everything you were feeling.

It’s a feverish dream, and as you recall your night, blotches begin to come back to you and the memory of your girlfriend appearing somewhere along the way makes the dull cramps across the front of your stomach beat in a way that makes you uncomfortably uneasy all over again.

As you assess your surroundings and open your eyes for what feels like the first time in months, you notice that Alexia is no longer in bed with you.

It’s all extremely faint in your head and there is an off chance you’ve dreamt it all up, but the very faint smell of coffee drifting through the air and folded up clothes sitting on the dresser on the wall across from your bed.

You’re feeling less deathly than last night, so you wager your chances with slowly sitting up in your bed, when you don’t feel any different you begin to lift your legs up.

Your muscles ache in the same way they do every time your period comes around, they tweak and they constrict like you’re an eighty year old instead of a twenty something.

It’s rough, it’s uncomfortable and it’s painful but it’s life.

It’s your life, it’s your burden, it’s your problem and knowing that Alexia is now a part of it all makes you queasy in a completely different way.

Your heavy on your feet as you stand up and begin to creep towards the door of your bedroom, with every step every one of your toes grinds against the floorboards. Your heel digs in, your ankles crunch, your body moves in a way that mirrors the way that you are crumbling from within. On these kinds of days, weeks and months, everything hurts. Everything is an effort.

Once you make it to your open door, you steady yourself against it, your nerves are working against you, everything inside of you is actively trying to stop you and you’ll be damned if you let it happen.

You only stand still long enough for it to be classified in your brain as a stall, not a break, not a stop. You can’t stop in times like this, if you stop then you’ll never get going again and that is a whole pit of fuckedupness that you aren’t ready to dive into.

From the door, you try your hardest to tiptoe your way through the hallway to your living space, but it’s impossible in your body.

As you inch closer, the sound of Alexia only becomes more apparent and obvious, and as you creep closer the agitation across your body only gets worse.

As you reach the archway between your hallway and living space, the sight in front of you makes your heart throb and your uterus ache even worse then it already is.

Alexia is swaying in your kitchen, apparently to whatever music she has playing in her head. There is coffee on the counter, accompanied by two bottles of juice and water, like she couldn’t decide what would be best. To accompany the extra drinks is toast, eggs, bacon and pancakes on the stove.

It’s too much.

With the combination of hormones in your bloodstream you’re honestly impressed that you don’t burst into tears.

Alexia’s still here.

Alexia, sweet, loyal Alexia.

You’ve been conditioned to keep all of this a secret, that during this week it’s best to keep yourself and everything you’re going through hidden, for the best of yourself and for everyone around you. Yet, here Alexia is doing way too much for you.

You’re downward spiralling when her voice breaks you out.

“Hey bebe.”

Her voice is close to a coo, the same voice she uses with Irene’s son. You don’t let it affect you in the moment, but you’ll think about the tactic of it later.

“I have food for you, and coffee if you want it, but google told me that sometimes that’s not always good for endometriosis. So I got juice as well, because google also said it might help with inflammation.”

The thought behind it is extremely sweet, and you feel slightly overwhelmed by all of the options.

“You didn’t need to do that for me.”

Alexia frowns, it’s slight and hardly noticeable, but the little wrinkle between her eyebrows is an immediate tell.

“I wanted to, I want to help you, however I can.”

The sentiment behind her words is lost in the sudden shock that you experience as her words settle in, you’ve never met a single person, besides a doctor whose job it was to help you, that gave a shit about this.

When you have no words, Alexia finds some for you.

“I want to talk to you about this, I want to know about it, I want to help you. We’re partners, we do everything together, and I want to do this with you. I don’t want you to lock me out and I don’t want you suffering alone. I’m here for this, I’m here for you to lean on.”

You nod your head, her words feel like a drug, like it’s lifting away some of the pain you’re going through.

“I’m serious, this isn’t something you can hide from me. You looked after me when I hurt my knee and I am here to look after you in the same way when you’re in pain. Bebita?”

Alexia’s hand falls to your side, caressing your hip gently.

“I’m not used to people knowing about this, and I’m even more not used to people caring, I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to process.”

Alexia’s face softens, and before you can say any other stupid mumbles, she pulls you from the hip into her body. Her arms are warm, and yet oddly they soothe your prickly skin.

You melt into Alexia, you feel like shit but she makes you feel marginally better.

“Coffee, or juice?”

You stifle a giggle that falls from your lips.

“Juice, please.”

Alexia relaxes her arms, taking a step back.

“Can I get you any pain relief, or a new heat pack? Is your headache better?”

Alexia looks at you with so much genuine care that it’s hard to not feel embarrassed.

“Pain relief doesn’t sit well in my stomach on a good day. I save heat packs for when the cramps are really bad or else they don’t have the same effect. My headaches normally are at the end of the day as a result of tension build up during the day.”

Alexia looks as if she’s taking mental note of everything you’ve just told her, for later.

“How about some food, hmm?”

You want to say yes, because Alexia’s clearly gone to so much effort for you, but you know that if you eat this early and then train your stomach contents is going to end up on a pitch or somewhere inconvenient.

“My stomach won’t keep it if we train later, I’m better to eat afterwards.”

Alexia’s brow furrows once again.

“I called the doctor and Pere this morning, we’re both taking today off.”

Everything warm and good about the moment fades, and suddenly all you feel is confusion.

“Why did you do that?”

Alexia steps away from you and retreats into your kitchen, grabbing a glass for you and picking up the bottle of juice that she knows you prefer.

“Because I thought you were dying last night, and you can’t tell me that all of that has just disappeared this morning. You’re struggling and you don’t need to push through pain to prove that you are worthy or good enough. You’re self worth shouldn’t be dictated by you proving to yourself that you can work through a chronic disease. I’m sorry that I didn't notice earlier and that I wasn't there for you earlier but I'm here to advocate for you now.”

You want to tell Alexia that you don’t need an advocate, you can advocate just fine for yourself. But a part of you knows that she doesn’t want to hear it and that part of you is also the part that is crippling from the inside and simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with your girlfriend.

“I train just fine normally.”

Alexia can’t argue that, even though you spend the time in the gym, she’s never heard of anything out of the ordinary occurring.

“But you don’t have to. In fact when I talked to our doctor she told me that she’d been insisting on you being more cautious of your cycle and spending more time resting during it considering your history.”

You roll your eyes, taking the glass of juice Alexia offers you.

Alexia plates up a breakfast that could feed a family of four, but it makes you feel less bad for not eating any of it.

“It’s my body, I know my limits.”

You focus on your glass of juice and not the face Alexia makes at you.

“You know how to continuously meet and exceed your limits, but what about just leaving them and giving yourself some peace. I know nothing about what you are going through, I can only sympathise. But I know this must be incredibly hard and I know you definitely do not give yourself enough grace and definitely don’t care for your needs enough. I’m here for you to confide in, I’ve done my research, I’m prepared to help however you need.”

It’s endearing how clearly prepared Alexia has made herself.

“You’ve done your research, hmm?”

Alexia nods proudly.

“Lots of it. Like about how orgasms can help with cramps.”

She looks like she’s going to say more, but you splutter your juice straight back into your cup, causing her to stop.

Alexia’s always been more open with her sexuality then you are, it’s culturally more acceptable in Spain but she also grew up with it being slightly more normalised.

“Alexia.”

Her grin is broad, like she’s proud that she’s managed to embarrass you.

“It’s true! Although for some people endometriosis can cause pain whilst having sex, so if you’re one of those people then it may not work but if you want to try I’m happy to help, fingers, toys, everything but mouths is on the table.”

Your blush only gets more cemented.

“I’m okay for right now, the thought of any kind of intimacy makes my fallopian tubes ache.”

Alexia nods her head, you are certain that sometime in the future this topic will arise again. Alexia’s rabbit-like sex drive makes it hard to not involve sex in everything you do together.

“Can I ask what your symptoms normally look like?”

Alexia’s lip is caught between her teeth, it’s the first time she’s looked nervous this entire conversation.

“Of course. Normally for me, I get bad pelvic pain which never really goes away, sweats, fever sometimes, cramps everywhere, i bloat, i get quite nauseous and occasionally it can make me moody. Furthermore, it can cause me to have migraines, some joint pain, insomnia, there are other things but those are the main ones. Overall it just makes me drained, i’m more fatigued but I can’t sleep, it makes me feel pretty lifeless.”

Alexia nods, she listens to every single word with so much attention.

“I always assumed the scars on your stomach were from getting your appendix removed, but I’m assuming now it’s a laparoscopy?”

You’re impressed by the level of detail Alexia has gone to for you.

“I have had my appendix removed but also yes, I’ve had two laparoscopy’s and I’m putting off getting my third done.”

Alexia nods.

“Do they make it better?”

You bite your lip before nodding.

“It’s never perfect, but for a bit it definitely makes my symptoms better. I’m putting off getting my next one because the last time I did it put me out of action for two months and it took me a while to get back to where I was. My body is different, it changes you. Before you ask, I’ve tried birth control, I’ve tried IUD’s, I’ve tried other forms of contraception, they all made it impossible for me to play football.”

Alexia shakes her head.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that, it’s your decision what you do and don’t put in your body, and I’m sure you’re just making whatever decisions work best for you.”

It’s refreshing having somebody not question what you do and don’t do for yourself.

“That means a lot to me.”

Alexia puts down her cutlery, her food somehow disappearing into her stomach.

“It’s just what love is, and I’m here to love you for forever, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve put off crying, you’ve tried your very best, but it’s not possible anymore.

The tears fall freely, and before you know it Alexia has pulled you into her lap.

It hurts, everything hurts, and yet everything feels so much better knowing you’re in her arms.

“I’ve got you bebita, I’m here now, I’m here to help you work this all out.”

——————————————————————

whelp that’s done! thoughts, feedback and general opinions would be appreciated! i’m so happy to have made something for yall and it’s rushed and super unedited and definitely not my favorite work but i hope you enjoy it all the same 🫶

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art. 

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.”

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

[octuscle]

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

[paulyenvol6]

Toxic pt. 2

Contains: Smut, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, choking, gagging, dom and mean Harry, sub reader, fingering, fluff

Wordcount: 2.42k

Masterlist

Y/n felt the breeze in her hair and just hoped it wouldn’t be all messy when she would try to comb it later. And she also prayed she wouldn’t catch the cold and lay sick in bed for the rest of the week. 'Fuck', y/n thought looking at her phone again but there was no notification.

She was sitting by this stupid bench alone on a Friday night. Harry had promised her a 'beautiful romantic date, just the two of us' and she had been surprised. In a very good way.

She had smiled and nodded and told him that it sounded lovely. But then a day later on Thursday Harry had texted her to ask her whether it would be okay if she would just pick him up after his football training and then the two of them could go on a stroll to go to a bar nearby.

Y/n had frowned at her phone, kind of felt the need to throw it against the wall but had agreed. She had been disappointed that a 'beautiful, romantic date' turned out to be a date in a bar but she wanted to give him a chance as she was still charmed by the gesture.

But well, now y/n wondered if it had been a mistake.

Harry had told her to be by the football team house at 7 pm and she had been there at 6:57 pm. When he hadn’t been there at 7:03 she had simply started to count the window panes of the shed that Harry had called a house. At 7:08 y/n had looked around to peek through one of the windows and at 7:16 she had texted him.

She could go in, sure. Harry was only a few feet away from her but you didn’t want to. He had invited her and y/n wouldn’t give in and chase after him.

Now it was 7:29 and she was annoyed. Now and then she could hear some laughter from inside the shed and y/n rolled her eyes. It was a Friday night and she had just spent half and hour in front of a stupid shed waiting for her boyfriend.

'No.', y/n thought. She was 22 years old and supposed to have fun in her life. Fuck this. Fuck his dumb idea of a date. Tonight she wouldn’t think about him. She wouldn’t storm into that shed, embarrassing herself by interrupting him and drag him out of there.

Y/n got up from the bench and took her bag. With a last look at the building she turned around and walked away. 10 minutes later she wasn't so sure about her plans anymore. Y/n didn’t really know where she actually wanted to go. She had walked through the small park next to the football pitch and now stood on a more lively street. She wanted to have fun, so that meant to find herself a warm place because her feet felt like ice by now.

While walking down the street she looked around trying to spot a nice bar or restaurant and then her eyes caught a sign. 'At Peter’s'. Y/n was thinking. That might just be the bar Harry had wanted to take her to. He had mentioned the name on the phone but of course she had forgotten.

But that didn’t matter now, the bar looked nice and y/n really wanted to get inside so she headed right towards it. Once she had entered it she was looking for somewhere to sit and actually spotted a stool at the counter.

Y/n ordered a beer and forced herself not to look at her phone. She had sworn herself not to think about Harry tonight. He had treated her badly, had neglected her and now he didn’t deserve to be the center of her thoughts.

Y/n sipped on her beer and looked around in the bar when she noticed someone sat down to her left. Curiously she turned around and looked right into the eyes of a young man with dark hair and piercing brown eyes.

She almost choked on her drink, so surprised by his gaze and coughed. "I’m sorry.", y/n pressed and the man grinned. "What for?" She chuckled when her breathing had calmed down. "For staring right at you and then almost choke at my beer. I was just startled."

The man smiled and she noticed that he had dimples. Like Harry. No, she couldn’t think about him again. "It’s alright.", the man said. "My name is Nick, by the way." Y/n smiled back at him. "My name is y/n. Very nice to meet you."

He took her hand and softly shook it which made her laugh again. "What brings you here alone on a Friday night?" Y/n rested her elbows on the counter. "Mhmm, I don’t know really. I think I needed a new environment." Nick nodded. "Respectable." "And what about you?"

Y/n rested her chin on the palm of her hands and watched him precisely. He chuckled and watched his hands on the counter. "Will it be enough for you if I simply say the air in my flat was too thin?" She laughed and Nick joined it.

But then he got serious again. "You know, I don’t want to be rude, y/n. If you don’t want any company right now I don’t want to bother you. I just want to make sure you want me to sit here next to you, you know…" "She does not." The voice made her jump and y/n quickly turned around. "Harry!", she said loudly and widened her eyes.

No, no! She was mad at him, she couldn’t feel guilty or scared now. HE was the one who had messed up. HE was the one who should come here and apologise. But the way he stood there. His hair still slightly wet from his shower and he just looked so confident.

She slapped herself mentally and changed her eyes to looking angry. "What was that, Harry? You told me to be there at 7 pm. And half an hour later, no sight of you, no message, nothing!" Harry didn’t look at y/n. He hadn’t looked at her while she had hissed these words but just looked at Nick furiously.

Speaking of, Nick looked from y/n to Harry and he obviously was confused by this situation. "Is… everything fine?" Harry chuckled sarcastically and leaned down to him. „Yes. If you leave this bar right now. And if you’re never gonna look at her again.“

Nick frowned and she could clearly see the fear in his eyes. So he quickly got up, grabbed his jacket not without letting her boyfriend out of sight and then left. "Harry?", y/n asked again but he ignored her. Then he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her with him.

"What the fuck are you doing?", she hissed trying to make him let go of her but his grip was tight. He dragged y/n to the toilets of the bar, into a cabin and locked the door behind her. "What the hell are you doing, Harry?", she pressed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

It was the first time he looked at her tonight and took a step in y/n's direction. "I don’t want to EVER walk into a bar again and see you talk to another man. Do you understand me?" She raised her chin. "You are the one who – " Harry cut her off by grabbing the side of her face with his right and putting his hand on her mouth with his left.

"Mhmm. No. Wrong answer." He made another step towards y/n and her back hit the wall. He then removed his hand from her mouth and held her neck with it. "You’re mine, y/n. And I don’t like seeing other men toying with what’s mine."

She looked up to him and felt her knees getting weak. Fuck, this wasn’t how she had planned this. How was he able to turn her into a thoughtless mess so quickly? She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay strong if he looked at her like that.

"Say it.", Harry spoke and he ran the thumb of his right hand over her lips. "What?", she breathed. "Say who you belong to." "No.", y/n spit and Harry tightly pressed her against the wall while his hand put a little pressure on her throat. "Yes. You will. Because if you don’t I’ll leave you here and go home alone. And I know that you're little panties are soaked right now and my poor girl is craving my touch."

He lifted her chin. "So go on. I’m listening." God, why was he so good? Who had taught him that? She looked at him with big eyes, begging him to just touch her but he didn’t give in. "I’m yours.", y/n eventually quietly whispered.

"What was that?" "I’m yours Harry." He smirked widely. "Aha. There we go. Good girl." She pressed her thighs together at his words and Harry chuckled. "Just as I thought.", he growled and then roughly spreaded her thighs. "Go on. Touch yourself.", he said and y/n looked up to him surprised.

"Do it." She hadn't expected him to demand her to touch herself and yet she obeyed him. Her shaky hand slid between her legs and under her skirt and her thumb found her clit. "Rub yourself, darling.", he whispered while watching y/n's hand disappear under her skirt.

She began drawing tight circles around her little nub and then after a while Harry's right hand wandered under her shirt. He massaged her boobs and rubbed her nipples between his fingers which made y/n sigh loudly. His left hand crawled up to her throat and he choked her lightly.

"Get on your fucking knees.", he suddenly said and y/n immediately stopped rubbing her clit. Harry pushed her down in front of him and didn't waste another second. He opened his jeans, pulled them down, freed his cock in a matter of seconds and then ran his tip over her mouth.

"Open, you little slut.", he hissed and y/n knew better than to disobey him. She opened her lips and Harry thrusted deep inside her. She needed to cough, felt him trigger her gagging reflex but Harry didn't allow her to get away from his cock.

His hand had grabbed the back of her head tightly and held her in this position. "Don't fight.", he moaned. "Just fucking relax." Y/n tried her best to breathe through her nose and after a while could loosen around his cock.

"Good girl. Yes.", Harry whispered when he felt her calm down and he started to thrust into her mouth. His hand moved her head along to his hips and hit the back of her throat every time. "Fuck. Oh holy shit, your mouth is a fucking… paradise." Harry had thrown his head back and moved her head faster and faster.

Y/n knew him by now and could sense that it wouldn't take him long to reach his orgasm. She felt his thick cock thrust into her mouth over and over again and just when she expected him to shoot his seed into her throat he suddenly pulled out of her and y/n opened her eyes in surprise.

Harry took a fistful of her hair and pulled her up. Without saying a word he turned her around and pressed her to the wall while lifting her skirt. "Harry.", y/n moaned and blindly reached behind so he would take her hand but Harry simply pressed it to the wall. "Shut up.", he groaned and then ran his cock through her folds.

She was incredibly wet and Harry grinned against the back of her head. "You're a little whore, do you know that?", he whispered against her ear. "Getting soaked from getting your mouth fucked." Y/n whimpered when his cock hit her clit and shifted nervously so Harry smacked her ass. "Stop moving around." Y/n nodded quickly.

She just wanted him to fill her hole and couldn't wait for him to finally enter her. And he did, with one deep thrust he stretched her walls and both moaned loudly. Harry started to slam inside of her and y/n pressed her hands to the wall in an attempt to hold on to something. "Mhmm.", she made and felt her knees getting weak.

Harry's hand reached around her body and his hand wrapped around her throat. He lightly choked her and she felt a little dizzy from all this stimulation. Because Harry's other hand had started to make its way between her thighs and he rubbed at her clit. "Harry. Please…", she whined but her voice sounded a bit croaky due to the hand around her neck that restricted the air coming to her lungs.

Harry was relentless with his pace and he fucked her hard and deep against the wall. She felt him so deep inside her and in combination with his hand on her clit she felt like she was about to explode.

"Harry…", she whined and his hand around her neck wandered to her mouth. "Shut it. You're gonna make the whole bar hear you." Now she moaned against his mouth and after a few more moments y/n felt the knot in her stomach tightend pleasure washed over her.

"Shit.", she shrieked and luckily her noises were supressed by Harry's hand. Feeling her clench around him sent him over the edge as well and he came with a deep growl. Y/n could feel his seed filling her up and know her knees really would have given in if Harry hadn't held her at her waist.

He breathed a few times deeply trying to recover from the high and then he pulled out of her. Y/n couldn't see what he was doing but then Harry turned her around and stroke her cheek. He smirked and kissed her swiftly on her lips.

He had adjusted his own trousers and now grabbed a paper tissue, got it wet and cleaned y/n's pussy. His cum was leaking out and running down her thighs and it definitely would've been suspicious if she had walked out like that.

Then Harry pulled up her panties and adjusted her clothes. Y/n herself was too fucked out and powerless to do anything so she just let her boyfriend take care and it honestly felt good that he took cared of her. After Harry was finished he took her hand. "Come.", he said softly. "What are we doing?" "We're going on our date."

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Playing Pretend (Part 4)

A afternoon of polo brings out some people's competitive side.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.9k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of champagne, me not knowing a damn thing about polo, tension & pining & being oblivious

A/N: Oops, finished this faster than I expected, hope no one minds too much! 😘

Series Masterlist

The disgust on Roy’s face was nothing short of comical.

“Polo? They’re playing fucking polo? Fucking rich people.”

You smiled and shook your head at him. “You don’t have to play, Roy. It’s usually just Jim’s cousins and some uncles. The rest of us just sit around and drink champagne and eat sandwiches and cookies. Absolute Downton Abbey shit. Jim’s family always play at big events. It’s actually kind of fun.” You poked Roy in the stomach playfully. “Especially because Jim sucks at riding. There’s a good chance we see him fall of his horse.”

“Fuck it. I’m in.”

The two of you were sitting on the bed in your room, still clad in pyjamas, chatting about what the day would involve as early morning sunshine streamed in through the window. People would be arriving for the rehearsal dinner throughout the day, but most of Jim’s family would arrive in the morning for their polo game. Then would be the rehearsal, out in the garden where the ceremony would be held, followed by dinner in what Jim’s mum called “the big dining room”- actually a small ballroom.

As you talked, sharing a bit about Jim’s family that he’d be seeing that day, Roy felt his body relax more than he’d felt in a long time. Lounging in bed together in pyjamas, whispering in tired voices, exchanging soft laughter. It was the kind of domestic scene he found himself craving every time he saw you. He could almost picture the two of you in his own room, you wearing his old Sunderland hoodie, wrapped up in each other and sharing sleepy kisses before heading downstairs so he could make breakfast.

Instead, you rolled your eyes as you told him about a couple of Jim’s girl cousins. “Just be aware, they’ll be all over you,” you warned. “When I was dating Jim and they found out I was friends with Roy Kent, they begged me to introduce them to you because you’re sooo fit.” Your voice went mocking and high-pitched on those last two words. “I don’t think you being my fake boyfriend will change anything.” You gave him a playful shove. “Sorry, mate. You’ll have to wait until after our fake break-up to hook up with any of them.”

Roy scoffed and shook his head. “Fuck that. I’d never want to hang around anyone who shares fucking Jim’s DNA.” Resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss you, he instead poked you affectionately on the nose. “Besides, I’m not focused on anyone but you this weekend, got that?”

You smiled at Roy, again feeling safe and protected in his presence. “Roy Kent, you are my favorite person in the fucking world, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Roy smiled, ignoring the warmth in his chest as he dared to push some hair out of your face. “D’you want to shower first, or should I?”

~

Roy’s hand rested on your bare knee as the two of you sat outside with Jen and her husband. People were slowly making their way to where tables and umbrellas had been set up for people to hang out while some of the cousins and uncles played polo.

You turned your head and caught Roy staring at you. “What?” you whispered, wondering if you’d spilled something on the sundress you wore.

He shook his head. “Nothin’.” After a moment, he said, “Did I tell you that you look really fucking pretty today?”

Oh. He was being “boyfriend Roy”. “Roy-friend”, you thought with an internal chuckle. He was probably getting into character because Jim was approaching your table, already red in the face before the match even started.

He raised his eyebrows at Roy. “Not playing, Kent?”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “Why the fuck would I?”

“Just figured the big football star might be up for a challenge,” Jim answered, looking quite pleased with the idea that he would be out there playing, and Roy Kent would be sitting on the sidelines. “But hey, if you don’t think you could handle it…” He trailed off with a haughty shrug.

With a deep sigh, Roy sat up straight. “I don’t feel like violating my fucking contract, Jim. Not supposed to engage in anything that might get me hurt, like riding a fucking horse that doesn’t know me with a bunch of rich pricks. ’m kind of fucking valuable to my team.” His grip on your knee tightened. “So poor old Roy has to sit here with a gorgeous woman all afternoon drinking champagne and letting her feed me little fucking cookies while you’ve got your legs wrapped around a horse, which’ll be the only riding you’ll do all day.” His giant fake smile made you want to laugh. “But please, tell me more about what a wanker I am for not playing your little fucking game.”

Jim mumbled something about needing to go check on his horse before stomping off, leaving your sister and brother-in-law watching Roy with raised eyebrows.

“Seriously,” Paul commented, raising his glass in jest, “one of you is going to throw a punch before the end of this weekend, and I almost feel bad for Jim if it’s you.” Paul had made no secret of his own disdain for Jim, something Roy greatly appreciated.

Jen chimed in, “Maybe just make sure it’s after the actual ceremony. Lauren’ll have a fit if Jim’s got a black eye in the wedding pictures.” She raised her eyebrows at you sympathetically. “Especially if it’s because of you.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t be marrying her sister’s ex-boyfriend then,” you grumbled, low enough that only Roy could hear.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Will it make you feel better to feed me cookies like I said?” he asked, his low voice full of teasing. “It’ll look fucking adorable. Everyone’ll think we’re absolutely insufferable.”

You cracked a smile. “Insufferable sounds fun.” You picked a biscuit off the plate Roy had loaded with sweets before sitting down. “Open up, Kent.”

Roy did as he was told, holding your gaze as he opened his mouth. Your fingers lightly brushed against his lips as he took a bite, sending a jolt of electricity to your heart. Even with all the fake kisses you’d been exchanging, you were still surprised to feel how fucking soft Roy’s lips were. He laughed softly as he finished chomping on the biscuit, leaving a couple little crumbs on his beard that you couldn’t resist wiping away with your thumb. As you pulled back, his hand caught your wrist. Still watching you with an intensity that made your jaw slack ever-so-slightly, he turned his head and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to the palm of your hand.

You were right, Roy thought. Insufferable was fun.

He loved the way you giggled when he kissed your hand. It lit up your entire face, especially your eyes. That was probably his favorite thing about this whole fucking weekend: seeing the joy on your face when he made you laugh, giving you a small distraction from whatever other feelings you were having.

“Hey,” he murmured as the polo players got ready to start. “I know this isn’t the most ideal of circumstances but…” He shrugged. “I’m having a fucking good time with you. Some of the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

“Me, too,” you admitted, noticing the way he still held your hand by his face. “I always have a good time with you, Roy.”

He opened his mouth to tell you that he always had a good time with you too, that maybe the two of you could have a good time together when you got home, maybe at a restaurant, and he could wear a tie and you could wear this dress because it was driving him fucking mad, and he could pay for dinner and maybe give you a real kiss when he walked you home after, when the sound of cheering interrupted the two of you; the game was starting. You could see Roy’s jaw clench and his eyes narrow at Jim.

Huh. You never did find out why Roy hated him so much. You just knew that when you’d started bringing Jim around, Roy got even moodier than usual. You’d asked his sister several times about it, figuring he’d had to have said something to her, but she never quite gave a straight answer: Jim’s too posh for his taste, he looked at Roy funny one time, he mentioned being a casual Arsenal supporter, he ate the last kebab at a party. But none of it made sense; he’d rolled his eyes the very moment you walked into that pub holding Jim’s hand, ready to introduce your new boyfriend to your best friends.

“Roy?”

His mouth curved into a smile at the sound of his name. “Hmm?”

You tilted your head, wondering how to ask. Better just say it. No use being timid with someone as blunt as Roy. “Why did you hate Jim so much? When we were dating, I mean?”

Roy’s eyes flickered to Jen and Paul, who were watching the match and chatting. “Obviously it’s because I was in love with you,” he blurted awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Right?”

You leaned closer, whispering in his ear. “No, I mean, like really. As my friend, not my ‘boyfriend’.” You raised your eyebrows expectantly.

In all the years you’d known Roy Kent, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him squirm until now. “Dunno,” he murmured, absently stroking your hand with his thumb. “Guess I just… didn’t think he fucking deserved you.” He finally looked you in the eye. “Honestly, no one deserves you. You’re the fucking best.”

Fucking Roy. Every now and then he’d say something like that- very sweet, almost loving things. Things that gave you a glimmer of hope that maybe he might see you as something other than just his sister’s best friend or the little girl he used to play with in the garden when he was a boy. But then you’d remember that that little boy grew up to be Roy Kent. And you’d feel lucky to just be friends with him- even though it sometimes made your heart ache.

“You’re sweet,” you managed, turning your attention to the polo game, pretending like watching your almost-in-laws ride their horses was suddenly interesting. “You’ve always been sweet to me.”

He gave your hand a squeeze and followed your gaze. “You’ve always been easy to be sweet to,” he said simply. After a long pause, he spoke again. “Feed me another cookie?”

You choked back a laugh and held up the plate to him. “Feed me one at the same time. It’ll be the most obnoxious thing in the world.”

A grin spread across his face as he grabbed a sweet, one he knew you liked. “You’re fucking brilliant.”

~

After the polo game (during which Jim fell twice, much to Roy’s delight), most people lingered on the lawn while the players disappeared into the house to shower. Jen and Paul excused themselves to go inside so they could FaceTime your nephew, who was with Paul’s mum.

You and Roy exchanged eyerolls when Lauren jumped into Jim’s arms in a particularly show-offish manner, squealing loud enough to get everyone’s attention, as if he’d won the world championship or something, rather than lost a game against his aging uncles.

“Should have you run out onto the pitch like that after a match sometime and snog me in front of everyone,” Roy mumbled without thinking. He froze and looked at you, his thick eyebrows arched. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

“That actually sounds fun,” you laughed, hoping you sounded casual. “Yeah, if you ever get sick of having gorgeous models run into your arms, I’d be happy to fill in. Getting plenty of practice this weekend.” Trying to prove that kissing Roy Kent was not a big deal, you leaned forward and touched your lips to his quickly.

He knew his face was tinted pink. “I actually think I am sick of the whole model thing,” he admitted. “So maybe I will have to ask you to sub in sometime.” His voice was light, a sharp contrast to the heavy pressure he suddenly felt in his chest.

“Oh.” That was all you could say. Roy was tired of models and actresses and the gorgeous women who hung around him? What the fuck did that mean? Before you could ask Roy more about it, one of your uncles came up to say hello, shaking Roy’s hand with enthusiasm and asking him about the upcoming season. Taking advantage of the opportunity to escape those brown eyes you kept reminding yourself not to get too lost in, you excused yourself to find a free restroom.

While rounding the corner into an empty hall, you found yourself alone, for the first time all weekend, with Jim, still in his polo clothes.

“Hey,” you greeted, offering an awkward wave. “Good job, uh, polo-ing out there. Hope your arse is okay from those falls you took.”

To your surprise, Jim snorted. “Bit surprised you saw anything with your face attached to Roy Kent’s,” he replied sharply.

You shrugged with a shy chuckle. “Hey, like Roy said last night, we’re in that dreadful all-over-each-other phase. Not nearly as much fun to watch as it is to participate, unfortunately for all of you.”

“I’m sure.” He folded his arms, giving you a hard stare. “So, you and Roy.”

“Me and Roy,” you repeated with a firm nod.

Jim sighed, shaking his head. “You know, I always thought the two of you-”

You sneered, knowing exactly what he was about to say. “Oh, save it. Nothing ever happened between us when you and I were together. He was just a friend. I always told you that.”

“Yeah, but all those times you hung out-”

“Sorry, where’d you meet your bride-to-be?” you snapped, eyebrows raised. “Oh, right, the first Christmas I brought you home to meet my family.” You shook your head. “If anyone should be asking that question, it’s me.”

Jim scoffed. “Hey, don’t you dare-”

“Oi.” You whipped around. Roy stood at the end of the hallway, eyebrows furrowed as he observed you carefully. “There a fucking problem here?”

You quickly shook your head, making your way over to him. “Nope. Just telling Jim that we enjoyed the polo match.”

Roy’s arm wrapped around your waist tightly, protectively. “Oh, yeah. Fucking loved it. Do people usually fall off their horse twice? Or does that take special skill that only a seasoned player like yourself can achieve?”

“Oh, fuck off, Kent. Go kick around a football or something,” Jim mumbled as he yanked open one of the doors, slamming it behind him.

Once the hall quieted, Roy pulled you into a proper hold, one hand on each of your hips. “You alright? Fuck was that about?”

You shrugged, letting your body melt into his as your hands rested on his arms- arms you always spent far too much time thinking about. “Just Jim being Jim.”

“And what does that entail?” He smirked. “Besides being a massive twat, of course.”

A snort flew out of your nose. Roy thought it was adorable. “Oh, just once again accusing me and you of fooling around behind his back because he saw us kissing during the polo match.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “He knows you’re not the sister he’s marrying tomorrow, right? I mean, I know the man was a fucking idiot-”

You shook your head, now completely holding back laughter. “When he and I dated, I mean,” you clarified, trying to ignore the fact that Roy Kent was holding you and making you laugh like it was the most natural thing in the world. “He was always accusing you of being interested in me.” You gazed up at Roy through your lashes, unaware of the way it made his heart skip a beat, although he swore you had to feel it with the way your bodies were pressed together. “Silly, innit?”

The words caught in Roy’s throat. No, not silly at all. He was completely right, the fucking wanker. I was in love with you. Still fucking am. Probably always will be. That’s why I hate him- because he had you. Because he knows what it’s like to have you love him back. And that’s the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.

Instead, he gave an awkward little laugh. “Oh. Ha. Fucking idiot.” He swore he saw your face fall for a fraction of a second. “Jim, of course. Not you.” Roy lifted a hand to cradle your face. “Never you,” he promised in that reassuring voice you always believed.

The two of you stood there for a long moment, holding each other, neither quite sure what to say. There was an electricity in the air that you were both too scared to bring attention to, although you could both feel each other’s heart beat just a bit faster. You were both thinking the same thing: What if I’m wrong? What if I’m imagining it? What if I’m the biggest idiot in the world?

But fuck, what if I’m right?

Before either of you could decide what to do, the chiming of a nearby grandfather clock brought you both back to reality.

“We should go change for the rehearsal dinner,” you whispered, realizing you’d been holding your breath.

Roy nodded. “Yeah. We should.” Reluctantly, he let go of you, ready to head back to your room, suddenly too shy to grab your hand.

To his surprise and absolute delight, you reached out and grabbed it yourself.

[maraudereestauderelb]

What are the Chances I (Troy Otto)

Some more writing I found somewhere in the depths of my drafts and figured, I might as well put it out there...

Let me know if you like it and if you want to be tagged in future parts!

Masterlist

"I'm so hungry, Y/N!", Leona whined on the passenger seat and added: "And thristy! What did you say? How many days can a human live without water?" 

They had run out of water supplies the day before and currently they were running very low on gas as well. "You still got enough power to complain so you're good." 

They had only started their drive towards the Mexican border four days ago. It had been a week since society had collapsed completely. Back in the area close to Los Angeles they had tried to collect as many supplies as they could and had stuffed all of them into Leona's old Jeep. Besides supplies they had been on the hunt for weapons. Neither of them had any experience with them but so far, they had somehow managed to protect themselves against the undead.  

They were careful. Very careful. The living being more of a potential threat than the dead.  

"Maybe you can check the map again? I think we should be close", Y/N asked her friend and pointed at the glovebox. Back at an abandoned rest stop they had found a map of the area they were heading for. 

When things had turned bad in Los Angeles they quickly had decided that trying to get back to their hometowns across the US was a stupid idea. They had no idea how things were over there, neither did they believe they'd get this far on their own. They actually were quite surprised they had gotten this far in the first place.  

Luckily the younger one of them had a thing for crazy conspiracy theories and just happened to stumble across a commercial of an elderly man advertising some sort of survival buckets and his ranch where they were preparing for the fall of society, when she had been watching one of these rather questionable tv channels in the middle of the night. And also, she was lucky enough to remember at least vaguely remember where said ranch was. And that was exactly where they were heading. 

When Leona was trying to locate them on their map Y/N suddenly saw a truck standing on the side of the street they were driving on. Really, she didn't want to stop right here in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in New Mexico, but a gaze at the fuel gage told her she had to at least try and find out if the Militia truck had some gas left, they could use for themselves.  

"What are you doing?", Leona asked surprised when her friend slowed the car down. "Might get us some gas", she answered.  

"You think this is a good idea? I don't think this truck's going to help you? Either someone left it here because it ran out of gas or I bet the person who drove it is still close." "I know", she sighed: "But I think we'll have to risk it or we'll soon have to walk." 

Y/N slowed down the Jeep and checked if anyone was sitting in the Truck before she got out of the car, carrying a hose and a small revolver, which she stuffed in her back pocket. 

It was silent and nobody seemed to be close. Neither living nor dead. Now all there was left to hope for was that the Truck had some gas.  

She had just inserted the hose all the way in the Truck when she suddenly heard steps behind her on the dry ground and Leona's high-pitched voice from the Jeep by her side: "Watch out!" 

With her heartbeat immediately pumping fast she turned around and pulled out the revolver. The young woman pointed her gun right at the two men, who were both wearing military uniforms. Her hands were shaking. 

"One step closer and I'll shoot!" 

They definitely were armed but instead of raising their rifles at her or trying to subdue her, they both raised their hands. 

"We're not doing anything, okay? Just put that gun down."  

But instead of that Leona now slipped out of the car, carrying a gun as well.  

"What do you want?", Y/N asked and tried her best not to shit her pants. 

"I'm Troy and this is Mike and we simply don't want you to steal all of our gas." 

"Well, but we'll take it anyway." "No, you won't", Troy said again seriously. "And how are you going to prevent that?", Y/N wanted to know and pointed her gun straight at him.  

"You've never used one of these things have you?", Troy laughed amused but although the two girls must have seemed like they had no clue what they were doing, Mike obviously wasn't as relaxed as his friend. "Man, I think we shouldn't test them." 

"We'll...uh we won't take all of it. So you can still get away from here", Leona offered stuttering. 

"I have a better idea", Mike said calmly: "You two take these things down and we'll take you with us." "With you?! Hell no!", Y/N took a step forward which didn't seem to scare Troy at all.  

"Nonono!", Mike said quickly: "Not what you think! I promise! We're living on a ranch. We're building something there. You'd be save. Let us help you." 

It wasn't hard to see that Troy wasn't too keen on that but really caught Y/N's attention. 

"Broke Jaw Ranch?", Leona asked with big eyes and hope in her voice and lowered her gun. "Why are you asking", Troy wanted to know curiously so Y/N answered lowering her gun as well: "Because that's exactly where we're heading." 

Part II

[pichiru]

The Sun Also Smiles - Chapter 1

Chapters - [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary - With Mabel and Dipper's 16th birthday party on the horizon, Grunkle Stan takes to online dating to find a date for the party. Things start to get real weird real fast.

Word Count - 1,782

Pairing(s) - Stan Pines x OC

Genre(s): Romance, Comedy, Mystery

A/N: Hi everyone! This is the first fanfic I've written in about 10 years! This is my first time posting my writing on Tumblr and I'm very, very nervous. The Grunkle Stan curse has consumed me whole… I'm not sure at the moment exactly how long this fic will be but it'll be a fun ride for us all! :3 I really hope you enjoy! Please feel free to leave feedback about how you feel about the story! I looooooove reading what everyone has to say and how you feel about stuff! It makes me so happy :D

~~~~~~~

“So…”

“Uh huh…”

“What you’re saying is…”

“Uhhhh huuuhhhh.” There was smiling, almost downright giggling, in her voice.

“You…”

“Uh huh!”

“Wanna…”

“EEEEEE!!!” She screeched quietly behind her prayer positioned hands while jumping in place.

“Start your own weird earring business?”

Mabel let out a loud ear piercing scream, causing Dipper to cover his ears quickly. Even at 15, almost 16, Mabel was still so excitable and bubbly. She never lost that part of her personality and she never would if she had anything to say about it.

“Mabel, is there even a market for that kind of thing?” Dipper asked his sister after she finally calmed down enough to have a conversation.

“Dipper…” Mabel started, her tone serious. “You have no frickin idea!” She squealed, jumping some more in place.

“Okay, say for instance I believe you and this is something you’re actually gonna commit to this time, how are you gonna get the materials?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh you know…” She said with a wide grin, nudging her brother in his ribs with her elbow. Dipper let out a groan, unfolding his arms to rub where she practically stabbed him.

“He’s not gonna go for it, Mabel. Him or Ford. Grunkle Ford would probably have war flashbacks if you even said the word ‘weird’ around him. Even if you whispered it,” Dipper said matter of factly.

“That’s what you think. You just don’t have the Mabel Pines charm. Or the puppy dog eyes. You’ve lost your edge. You’re too emo now,” Mabel sighed as she started reminiscing how cute and cuddly Dipper used to be. Now he’s just like Robbie. But somehow cooler? Somehow.

“Emo?! It’s called goth!” Dipper said, his voice cracking very slightly. His cheeks flushed, hoping Mabel wouldn’t notice. Her lack of reaction led him to believe she didn’t. But he figured she was just doing him a favor by not embarrassing him about it anymore. It got boring, he figured.

“Anyway,” Dipper started after clearing his throat a little. “I’d like to see you try to convince Stan to foot the bill for this. There’s no amount of 15 year old puppy dog face that’ll get him to do it.”

“Oh ye of little faith, my brother,” Mabel sighed, shaking her head as she started unpacking her luggage.

The twins begged and pleaded to stay with their grunkles for the summer. It was a big summer! Their 16th birthday. Ford and Stan agreed to return from their Stan o War II expeditions on the condition that they could plan a huge party for them before sending them back home. They thought it would be nice to do for the kids. Especially since they haven't really seen them since they turned 13. Dipper, however, has been keeping correspondence with Ford every week.

Mabel pulled a blazer out of her largest suitcase and held it up to Dipper with a wide, metal filled, grin. "I brought this just for the pitch! Hopefully it'll make Grunkle Stan take me seriously since all he does is wear a blazer in the shack. And dress pants. Come to think of it, he wears a full suit to work in a tourist trap," she said mostly to herself at the end.

"Did you get the blazer because you think it'll make you more grown up?" Dipper asked, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Uh, duh, Dipper. Why else would I just have a blazer laying around as a teenager?" Mabel asked, rolling her eyes back.

Dipper had his back turned to Mabel but he smiled at her comment. He loved that his sister was so sarcastic and funny. It was one of his favorite things about her.

After about 15 minutes passed, they were both unpacked and settled into their old room. Ford had even convinced Stan to get the kids their own full sized beds, instead of the smaller twin sized beds. He thought it would make them feel more comfortable. He wasn't wrong though.

Dipper trudged down the stairs first, wanting to be witness to this disaster of a business pitch his sister was about to initiate. He looked around for a moment. It was eerily quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the clicking of a keyboard from the kitchen and hushed arguing. They obviously didn't want to be heard but they sucked at it, frankly.

He sighed and flattened his fingers against his hips to stick them into his pockets. He took a step towards the kitchen before jumping at a loud yell that startled him from head to toe. Of course it was Grunkle Stan's voice. Dipper rushed into the kitchen to see what was going on.

"Grunkle Stan?!" Dipper yelled, his hands gripping the doorway in terror. "Are you okay?!"

Ford and Stan looked to their nephew, confused about why he was so startled. They were huddled around a laptop on the kitchen table. Stan was sitting in front of the computer and Ford standing but leaned down to read what was on the screen.

"Are you okay, kid?" Stan asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dipper slowed his breathing to a normal pace before laughing it off. "Y-Yeah. I'm A-OK! I just..." He trailed off.

"Dipper, it's alright," Ford said as he walked up to his nephew and placed a solid hand on his shoulder. "We're just..." He looked back at his brother, who shook his head slowly, his mouth a hard line and his eyebrows flat. Ford turned his attention back to Dipper.

"Stan's trying online dating. He says he wants to have a date to your birthday party. I don't care about that sort of thing personally but..."

"SIXER!" Stan blurted as he started blushing furiously, hunching over the computer. "Always openin your mouth..." he grumbled to himself, knowing full well they both could hear him. "I just wanted to make a FRIEND that's not my brother, you kids, or Soos. Can't an old coot want that for himself?"

Ford and Dipper looked at each other with the same intrigued expression. Dipper straightened himself up and nodded.

"Yeah. You can definitely want that for yourself," he answered. "Have you...had any luck?" Dipper asked cautiously.

"Not really," Stan said curtly. He knew online dating at his age would be tedious but not _this_ bad.

"Actually, Dipper," Ford interjected. "Someone just messaged him back. Eagerly," he said, shooting a grin at Stan.

"Shut your trap! We don't even know if she's a real person," Stan grumbled as he typed on the laptop on front of them. "Or if she's a...what is it? Dogwhale?"

"Catfish," Ford and Dipper corrected in unison.

Stan looked at his brother and nephew, squinting his eyes at them. "Sometimes I wonder who's Sixer's twin here. Me or you, kid. Aside from the fact you look like The Cure meets Marilyn Manson these days." He turned back to the computer and continued typing.

"How do you know who Marilyn Manson is?" Dipper asked with much confusion in his voice.

"Don't worry about it, kid," Stan dismissed. "It's a good look on you."

Dipper blushed and rubbed the back of his neck shyly. "Oh! Thanks," he said quietly, looking around the room nervously. "It's a new thing."

"Some of the smartest people I knew in college were goths," Ford added. "Keep up the good work...er...look...Yeah." Ford looked between the other two and left the room quickly out of embarrassment.

"GRRUUNNKKKLLLEEE STAANNNNNN!!!" Mabel squealed as she rushed past Dipper into the kitchen with her blazer on haphazardly. She very obviously didn't know how to put it on to fit her correctly but that didn't stop her from trying.

Stan turned to look at Mabel who was standing there eagerly with a book under her right arm. He couldn't help but smile at his niece still being the same silly person she always has been. It always warmed every corner of his heart. Even though he'd never admit it.

"What's up, kid?" He asked as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his left ankle over his right knee.

ding!

"So! I have a proposition for you!" Mabel said as she pulled her book out and opened it.

ding!

ding!

ding!

"What is that?" Mabel asked curiously as she stepped forward towards Stan and the laptop.

"Nothing!!" Stan said as he slammed the laptop closed.

"Stan's doing online dating," Dipper said without thinking. He made a small noise then covered his mouth quickly.

There was an unsettling silence at first followed by a loud shriek of excitement followed by Mabel jumping up and down with the book still in her hands. "GRUNKLE STAN NO WAY! NOOOOO WAAAAYYY!! AH, I'M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!"

Stan and Dipper both covered their ears.

"Alright, alright, kid. That's enough. It's no big deal."

"IT IS SO A BIG DEAL!!! Have you met anyone yet? Did you ask anyone on a date?" Mabel asked rapidly.

"No and no," Stan said simply.

Mabel's entire disposition changed when he answered. "Oh... Well those dings from the computer sound promising! There was a lot of them too. Maybe it's multiple women trying to get your attention?"

"No. It's...It's one woman. I just met her," Stan said as he opened the laptop back up and went to the woman's profile. "Says here she's an artist, she loves period pieces, and loves all things Halloween. Don't really get the last part but the first two things? It makes her the dame of my dreams," he sighed with a smile. He quickly reigned himself back in and cleared his throat.

"Anyways, we're just...chattin right now. That's all. It probably won't even last a day. She's too good to be true. She's probably a...wazzit called, Dip?"

"Catfish," Dipper answered quickly.

"Yeah that. She's probably a catfish," Stan said sadly.

"Grunkle Stan," Mabel said softly as she walked over to him and sat her book down on the table. "I know you've led a hard life but you deserve happiness. So don't shoot it down before it's even had the chance to take flight," she advised wisely, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Wise words, kid," Stan said, accepting her advice. "I'll...give it a chance."

"YAY!!" Mabel squealed as she clapped her hands happily.

Stan's gaze snapped to the book in front of them. "Wazzat?" he asked, pointing with his chin. "And why the hell are you wearing a blazer? And wearin it like...that?"

A huge grin slowly spread across Mabel's face, showing every single color in her braces, at Stan's sudden interest. "Grunkle Stan...do I have a proposition for you!"

[tickle-bugs]

Cool Guy

Anon: Heya! If you're still doing them, could you make a tickle fic on Luke and Han but js Han getting Luke? I love the whole Luke being like Hans lil bro 😭 An idea being maybe Luke is embarrassing Han in front of Leia and Han gets him back, Leia maybe helping Han a bit? I like your fics a lot haha! It's alr if not ofc, js have a good day! :D &lt;3

Summary: Han is cool, suave, and absolutely irresistible. Luke vehemently disagrees.

Han knows logically that he cannot not squish the galaxy’s last hope like a bug. That would be unwise. There is, however, zero question of if he deserves it.

Luke is almost better at being a little shit than he is at being a Jedi.

“Princess!” Han leans against the wall. The Falcon’s internals hum behind it. Leia looks up at him blankly. 

“Pest.” She takes a bite of a sandwich. “What do you want?”

Nothing. Not a thing. He just loves the irritated curve of her eyebrow, the sharpness of her gaze, the curl of her lips--

“I’d love it if you’d stop taking what’s not yours.” He nods towards the sandwich. Leia regards it, then makes deep eye contact on her next bite. Han chuckles in something like disbelief, but he knows her. Knows how she likes to provoke. 

“Nice boys share their food.” She takes another bite.

“Well, I ain’t nice. Keep your thieving little hands to yourself.” Han considers wrapping up the sandwich, just to be petty, but he knows she hardly takes interest in his things unless she needs something. He could find something else to eat. 

“Or else what?” She plays with the crust of the bread. Eye contact. God, he loves this game of theirs. She leaves him breathless too often for his liking, though. As he flounders for a comeback, he hears a high-pitched noise from the other side of the room. 

Luke. Great. 

“What are you wearing?” Luke laughs incredulously. Han looks down at himself. He’d put on a fur vest today instead of his usual cargo one. It was something he’d snatched off some mook that’d tried to set him up with a dishonest deal. It’s old and it smells a little funny, but he likes it. It’s his now. 

“Wh—it’s a vest. It’s cold.” Han frowns. 

“You look like Chewie shed on you.” Luke leans his hip against the doorway as he settles in to mock. There’s a Wookiee outcry of indignation from the cockpit that goes unanswered.

“It’s a fashion statement.” Han adjusts his posture, gives them a new angle. Luke snorts. Han scowls.

“What exactly are you stating?” Leia rests her chin in her hands. She’s got a crumb on her cheek. He does not think about brushing it away. 

“You’re both terrible.” Han stomps off to change. 

“Right back atcha!” Leia calls after him. Her laughter is sweet, even at his expense. 

….

Run-ins with Empire patrols always put Han on a fine edge--he’s a well-oiled machine with Chewie at his back, but recent additions to the Falcon have proven…distracting. As he slams them into a hyperspace jump, the twins’ noise somehow drowns out the noise of the engine. Leia’s complaining that he took too many risks, Luke’s insisting he took too little, and Han’s half tempted to spin send the Falcon into a barrel roll just to hear a different sound.

Chewie won’t let him. The honorable bastard.

The moment they finish the jump, Han swivels out of his chair and goes…well, he’s not sure where he’s going, but he knows he needs to see and hear something besides Luke crunching angrily on crackers. 

Leia follows on Han’s heels, Luke follows on hers, and Han considers just ejecting himself from the airlock and being done with it. 

“If you want to die, be my guest, but don’t put us at risk for your ego.” Leia smacks his chest. Han can’t tell if he’s imagining the lingering touch of her fingers. 

“No, you’d miss me too much.” He fires back, pulling out of her grasp. He takes long strides, taking a petty sort of joy in hearing significantly shorter legs scramble after him. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Leia snarls, snatching the back of his vest. He whirls around. 

“Yes, you would, because things are boring without me. You like having me around.” He leans into her space. She stands her ground. 

“The fate of the galaxy is boring?” She conveniently ignores that last part. Han doesn’t miss it. 

“It is without me. Face it, princess. You’re attached.” He puts his hands on his hips. Leia’s face turns an interesting color.

“Ha! See? Attached!” Han points triumphantly. Leia smacks his hand away. 

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t need to. The truth’s all over your face.” He circles that pointer finger in her face. She smacks it hard enough to bruise this time. 

“The truth that I can’t stand you, more like. You’re arrogant, reckless, irresponsible—“

“And exactly your type.” Han grins. “You like having me around. Meanwhile, I’m cool, casual, and unattached.” Han clicks his tongue. Leia attempts to burn a hole through his forehead with her gaze. He worries for a moment that she might. 

“Really?” Luke crunches loudly. “I heard you telling Chewie that you like having us around. That you wouldn’t know what you’d do without us. Didn’t sound very cool and casual.” 

“I was drunk.” Han’s face burns. Leia snorts. Han scowls. 

“Drunk mind, sober thoughts.” Luke grins teasingly, waving a chip in his face. Han tries to snatch the bag, but Luke twirls effortlessly out of the way. Damn Jedi. 

“Sounds like you’re attached, laser brain.” Leia circles her finger in his face, and Han wonders if turning himself in to the Empire might be better for his ego.

…

Han’s not sure when his game with Leia stopped being a game and started being this, but he’s not complaining. He’s made out in worse storage rooms than the ones on the Falcon. They’d started with fetching a rations restock, devolved into bickering, and, well…their arguments usually end in violence or the threat of it, so Leia trying to climb him like a tree is a much-welcomed departure from form.

Normally Han’s great at keeping his emotions in a cold, dark little box where he never has to deal with them, but Leia looked so pretty yelling at him that he just…had to kiss her. He knew at that moment he’d die if he didn’t. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed and he hopes it won’t be the last, but each touch with Leia is like drifting closer to the beautiful terror of the sun. The best part, the overwhelming part, is that she wants him too. 

All of that would’ve been well and good, great even, if Luke hadn’t been standing in the doorway. 

Luke and Leia have some kind of stare-off that Han suspects involves their twinness--there’s lots of flustered, offended noises without words being uttered. Luke raises his eyebrow in a way that really seems to get to Leia, because she splutters, which she expressly does not do. 

“Don’t you start! I tolerate him!” She glares at Luke, her cheeks turning red. 

“Aww.” Han smirks. She elbows him in the ribs.

“With your mouth?” Luke’s near hysterical. 

“Among other things.” Han smirks wider. Luke’s face twists in sheer disgust. 

“Shut up,” Leia hisses, blushing and hitting him harder. He grins.

Luke levels a finger at Han, a habit he picked up from him in the first place, and then stalks off. 

“Chances he knifes me in my sleep?” 

“Lower than me doing it myself.” Leia swats his arm once more for good measure, but she’s still glowing, and Han thinks he might want to see that smile of hers for the rest of his life.

“I’ll take those odds.” 

The difference between Luke and his sister, in Han’s opinion, is that Luke’s noise goes inwards. Leia will scream at Han until she’s red in the face and then she’ll miraculously find more air. Luke gets quiet and vengeful, which is why Han starts to suspect foul play the third time he trips over thin air. 

Han really wants to fight back, but every time he opens his mouth, Leia’s lurking around some dark corner. 

On hour three of Luke’s temper tantrum, Han’s eye begins to twitch. He’s probably bruised every inch of his shins by now, he’s tired, and he thinks if he can close his eyes for an hour he might remember how to function. Just a sweet, Skywalkerless hour. 

Han drags his hand over his face as he walks off to his cabin. He finds Luke standing in the hall like an omen. He doesn’t move when Han approaches. The little furrow in his brow is probably meant to be intimidating, and maybe one day it will be, but Han can’t bring himself to care. 

The desire to lay down overcomes his rational thought, and he does to Luke what he often does to Leia: jams his hands under Luke’s arms and lifts him out of the way.

Except, unlike Leia, Luke doesn’t try to kick him. He lets out a giggle at a pitch Han didn’t know he was capable of. 

Han pauses, raising an eyebrow at the rapidly-reddening Jedi in his arms. He twitches his fingers. Luke chokes out a surprised laugh. 

Han’s suddenly not tired anymore. Funny, that. 

“Han, don’t you dare, c’mon--”

Han sets Luke down but doesn’t release him--he viciously wiggles his fingers where they’re trapped under Luke’s arms. He goes down like a sack of droid components, filling the Falcon with bright, bouncy laughter it so desperately needs. 

“You get a minute for every bruise, and my shins are looking mighty purple.” Han whistles lowly, pressing into the gaps between Luke’s ribs. Luke lets out a giggly hiccup and kicks his legs. 

“That’s not f-fair!” Luke clutches Han’s arms desperately. Han twitches his fingers and he curls up, shaking his head. Han distantly wonders when Luke last laughed like this. If he ever has. 

“Yeah? Tell me about it. Pick on someone your own size and maybe life will be fairer.” Han tries to keep his stare blank, but his mouth quirks up at the corners. Luke lets out an indignant gasp, but he quickly tumbles right back down into laughter.

“Let go,” Luke growls, his whole face scrunching around his smile. 

“Kid, I can’t let you go if you’ve got my hands.” Han gives a dramatic tug. He stops, raising his eyebrow expectantly. Luke pouts--pouts!--at him and lifts his arms at glacial pace. Han pulls away…

…and goes right for Luke’s exposed stomach. His shout of betrayal mixes beautifully with his laughter.

“Rookie mistake,” Leia tuts, snickering at Luke’s misfortune. Han jumps at her appearance--man, he should put a bell on these two--and Luke takes that as a signal to start wriggling away. Han reels him back in with a hearty laugh.

“Leia, fetch your--” Han cuts Luke off with a squeeze to the side before he can say anything embarrassing. 

“You gonna help, Your Worship? Or are you above getting your hands dirty?” Han casts a glance at Leia. 

“Never.” Leia smirks, kneeling beside Luke. They stare at each other for a long, tense while. Leia’s gaze drifts over him the same way she sifts through a plan for holes, until she stops at his knees. 

Luke’s eyes widen. Leia grins.

She latches on like a viper and Luke squeals, drumming his feet on the ground. He throws his head back and cackles himself into silence, flopping around uselessly. 

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Han chuckles, a little nervous.

“You’re notoriously bad at it,” she smirks. Han swears he feels the ghost of her fingers on his own legs. He shudders.

Luke’s surrender is less of a cry and more of a wheeze, but they let him go quickly all the same. He tosses his arm over his glowing face with a great, heaving sigh.

“You alright over there?” Han chuckles, nudging Luke’s boot. He lifts his arm to glare.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Han pats his ankle. Luke kicks him. Han squeezes his knee and he immediately blurts out a tired, giggly apology. 

“Stop being a little shit and trying to trip me up. It’s not gonna work. Too cool for that.” Han pats Luke’s stomach. 

Warm hands wrap around his waist and he leans back, scaring himself with how easily he fits into Leia’s arms. She hooks her chin over his shoulder.

“Are you ready?” She murmurs, brushing her fingers over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ready for what?” His hand finds hers. He’s more than ready, if he’s reading this right. She’s rarely like this beyond closed doors, and it sends a thrill through him. Her lips brushing his ear drives him just a little crazy. He starts to stand, but she pulls him back down. 

“To be tripped up.” She smirks. He feels it. 

“Wh—“ 

Leia’s fingers dig in with deadly accuracy. Han crumples and his bravado goes with him. Loud, hearty laughter bursts from him as he slides to the floor, boneless in her arms.

“Aw, look at you cool guy.” Luke sidles up next to him with a shit eating grin. He tickles mockingly under Han’s chin and he, mortifyingly, giggles. Luke chases the sound, having way too much fun for Han’s liking. 

Han growls and tries to kick him. Leia’s fingers find his hips—cruel and unusual—and he’s toast. He resigns himself to die in her lap, which isn’t the overall worst way to go, and makes a mental note to write Luke out of his will. 

As long as Chewie thinks he’s cool, he supposes it’s still a net win. 

[witchofthesouls]

It’s sad bitch hour so I hope you’re ready, grab your tissues 🤧😢

I was watching Dumbo with my nieces and nephews and when ‘Baby Mine’ started, it got me thinking of Girl Dad! Megatron and the fact that Megatron is/was a poet.

Two scenarios popped in my head;

One: Megatron comes back from a mission heavily injured and his young daughter/s are distressed at the sight of him and the idea that he almost died, so he lets her/them climb next to him and he holds her/them and hums or recites ‘Baby Mine.’

Two: An ‘Autobots Win AU’ where Megatron is imprisoned and set to stand trial/executed and before any of that, Optimus being the bleeding heart he is even for his old friend/enemy, lets Megatron see his daughter/s one last time. The girl/s are confused and scared and latch onto Megatron and Megatron, possibly already accepting his fate of being executed, comforts them by either humming or reciting ‘Baby Mine’ until their time is up and Optimus or some other Autobots come and take the girl/s away and leaving Megatron alone.

Anon, I say lean into it because I need more heartbreak, especially after rewatching the scene. It hits harder as an adult...

In the first one, their kids' mother died from medical complications. The youngest girl doesn't remember, but the oldest sister does.

The kids only have a vague idea what's going on, but it's the oldest that grasps the full extent as-

Megatron could be heard, either by their thundering voice or their personal communication lines. The fact that he's quiet and no one is allowing them access to the medbay is absolutely chillingly telling.

Rumble and Frenzy, along with Skywarp, are keeping the girls company. The twins are the most battle capable of Soundwave's cassettes, and the Seeker can teleport with the two kids. If Megatron dies on the operating table, the aftermath will get ugly.

Their dad pulls through, but he's in really rough shape.

Que a quiet and private scene between them. The girls are in their human alt-mode to keep weight off him as Megatron hums "Baby Mine."

It's a lullaby their mother used to sing to them during her pregnancy and to help them sleep.

Even drugged to the gills, Megatron blankets them with his EM field, curling around them.

There are rising tensions within the faction, but (for once) Starscream and Soundwave are in an agreement: Keep the kids safe.

Megatron's personal quarters are absolutely a fortress in and of itself, but outside the girls watched by the cassettes or Starscream's trine. Between Thundercracker's heavy weight and willingness to cook a mech in their own fluids with a deadly hug and Skywarp's feral brutality to pitch himself against everyone and anyone, very few will directly make a move against them. Soundwave had built his cassettes upon the principles of stealth, espionage, and sabotage. There is very little that can escape Soundwave’s notice.

Megatron will want the names of the mechs that attempted anything towards his girls when he recovers.

The second scenario is honestly much more dark with all the political intrigue involved, especially if the girls do have a Cybertronian root-mode with a human alt-mode.

Autobot High Command would be deadlocked on how to handle them. The only thing they can agree on is not to send them back to Earth. Vehemently.

The girls are far too high-risk to fully leave alone, especially with major players of Decepticon High Command still out there that will use them as a focal point to rally the remaining faction. Not to mention the many interested parties back on Earth that would love to get their hands on living, breathing amalgamations between Man and Machine, especially with citizenship up in the air...

With exile off the table, the options are quietly executing them, political bonding, or indefinite imprisonment.

I think it would be Optimus that allows them to visit their father as Megatron's last rites. It would twist the knife between old enemies' wounds, especially with Optimus witnessing a tender moment of Megatron with his girls as the defeated Warlord privately comms the Autobot leader as he quietly sings to his terrified children:

:: I have one last request. ::

:: You've made it already. ::

:: Think of it as an extension, Prime. Should you choose to execute them as well, then let them die with me. Let them have that comfort. No matter how paltry it is. ::

[cal-writes]

the other day i haunted @bumbleboa with ideas again and wrote her a little bit. figured i could share here too. zorolaw funeral home au

-

Law stares down at the buffet of finger food with an entirely warranted intensity. It feels vaguely inappropriate to dig in, considering none of the actual family has even started to consider the spread, too busy talking to each other. He barely knew the departed, save for wasting three donor organs on him. Someone laughs and someone else giggles. The sound is nearly swallowed by the carpet and the heavy drapes around the room but not enough to extinguish entirely.

Well, surely eating something can't be more disrespectful than that. Besides, Law kind of skipped breakfast because he slept through his first alarm. He takes one of the tiny plates and piles some of the skewered meatballs ontop of it, stuffing one between his teeth.

"My condolences." Someone next to him says. Law inhales as he startes and nearly swallows the toothpick. He tries to stifle his cough and thumps his chest. "Shit, sorry." Law glances out of the corner of his eye and sees the green haired man next to him.

He at least has the decency to look sheepish about sneaking up on him.

"It's fine." Law clears his throat. "Err, thanks. You too." He offers his hand and the man takes it.

His hands are warm and calloused, his grip firm and Law feels his palms sweat just a little. This close the scar over the man's eye looks gnarly but doesn't detract from his handsome face. The other eye is a cool steel gray. It's looking down at their clasped hands.

"Nice tattoos." He says, snorting and Law cringes (and curses his 20 year old self for thinking that getting 'death' tattooed on your hands as a doctor was a funny joke).

"I-" He tries but the words get stuck halfway up his throat.

The man releases his hand and smirks slightly. "Don't worry. I'm not with the family. I work here." He says and Law feels a weight drop off his shoulders.

"Oh, thank fuck."  He breathes, glancing around to make sure none of the family caught that exchange but they are still having a grand old time amongst themselves apparently.

"Given that, I'm guessing you're also not family?" The man asks, turning to the buffet and grabbing what looks to be a tiny sandwhich.

Law shakes his head and eats a meatball. "No, I was his doctor."

The man nods and chews thoughtfully. "I see, so the tattoes are a warning?" He asks with a twinkle in his eye and Law feels the heat rise to his cheeks.

"No." He shoots back, slightly too high pitched and the man laughs.

"I'm Zoro." He says.

Law sincerely hopes his face isn't as red as it feels. "Trafalgar Law." He responds.

"Doctor, I hope." Zoro asks with a smirk. and Law glares.

"Yes, obviouisly." He tells him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Nika help him, this man is insufferable. (He kind of wants to pin him against a wall and bite that smug grin off his face).

He gets bumped with a sharp elbow and takes an instinctive step aside, glaring at Zoro who nods past him. Law follows his gaze to the woman in the frilly goth gown who was standing next to framed picture of the departed with a trembling lip. "You should show them to Perona, she'd get a kick out of that."

Law frowns at the woman and her big teary eyes. "I don't think that-"

"She's faking." Zoro tells him and Law looks back at him just in time to see him lick crumbs off his fingers. "Boss makes us come to the wakes if there aren't enough people." He says and Law blinks.

He looks back over at Perona, who grasps the shoulder of one of the old men and shakily nods at him as he tells her something. "Huh."

"You learn to make your own fun at these." Zoro mutters, too close to Law all of the sudden. He feels his breath on his ear and shivers.

His mouth is dry, suddenly. "I see." He manages to bring out. (Oh, he has a terrible idea). "Like what?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder and meeting Zoro's shark grin.

[softquietsteadylove]

Helloo, how are you?

So its halloween and i have a little request for something scary. Maybe the eternals somehow end up in this very old and problaby haunted house, and then the ghost in said house take a liking for Thena, so they start to hide her and make the others see her when she is not there. And poor Gil is more scared that he would like.

(Also thank you for answering to my asks🩷😭)

"This place really is massive," Gil commented mildly as he moved the flashlight around the walls. It was just the sound of their steps and their breathing. The halls of this old asylum were oppressively quiet.

"It's easily the largest space we've ever been in," Thena agreed as she too moved moved her light to examine their surroundings. "Its a good thing the others agreed to come with us to man the equipment."

Their friends were being good sports about it, whether or not they were present as true believers or because if half of their group was already in, they might as well all come.

"I hope they don't hate me for dragging them out here all Halloween night," he gulped as they turned a corner down - what a surprise - another pitch black hallway.

Thena scoffed at the idea, though, allowing him to walk even closer to her, all but clinging to her arm. "Please, all they would be doing is loitering at Phastos' anyway. He and Ben would be watching something, Makkari and Druig would be pretending not to make out in the corner and Ikaris would be trying - and failing - to hold Sersi's hand during the whole movie."

Gil snickered beside her. Thena's observations could seem cutting at times, but they were never all that inaccurate. And they could be pretty funny, in that way. "I'm sure he'd get there eventually."

"I have yet to see it," she drawled about their mutual friend, more frenemy when it came to her and Ikaris in particular. "Speaking of, when did they last check in?"

Gil pulled pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Ground floor, do you copy?"

"Ugh, Gil--aye, we're still 'ere. You don't have to go all air traffic control for it."

Well, if he was going to be such a stick in the mud. Gil huffed, "roger that, Party-Pooper."

"Oi!"

Thena took his hand and pulled the walkie closer to her. "Sersi, tell us if he holds onto you too tight and we'll switch floors."

"Watch it!"

The constant radio static of the channel clicked again and Sersi laughed. "He's really quite all right, you two. Anything up there?"

"Nothing, so far," Thena sighed before remembering to add, "over and out."

Gil smiled as he put the walkie back in his pocket. Thena probably thought it was silly too, but she would never actually say anything. It was one of the many ways in which she indulged him on these ghost hunts. "Hey."

She looked at him, wondering what had caught his attention. Once she saw him wiggling his hand at her, her smiled turned a little bit shy as she slipped her hand into his. "Do you think they'll know what to look for?"

"I told them about what all the equipment does, they should be able to tell if they get any activity," Gil murmured as they turned down a hall into a more residential looking area. "Whoa, this looks like an actual house."

"This must have been an area for those in a palliative sort of care, like a true hospice," she muttered, pressing closer to him. It was still old floors and concrete walls, but there were now rooms with more than nothing, some even still had an old metal bed frame in them. There was a dresser or two, even a mirror.

Gil winced as their flashlights both hit it head on. He lowered his, but he blinked and rubbed his eyes after the fact. "Can't believe something like that is still standing in a place like this in one piece."

Thena had no comment on it, apparently.

"Kinda freaky, right?" he sighed as he rubbed at his eyes again before shaking it off. "Thena?"

He looked around.

"Thena?" he called out with a little more urgency. He moved the flashlight around, plenty of the room doors were open, but he would have heard her. He would have felt her, wouldn't he? "Thena?!"

He rushed to check each of the rooms, forgetting how creepy everything was. His stomping feet were echoing all over the place, but that didn't matter. "Thena, where are you?!"

All that came back was his own voice bouncing around. He was starting to panic.

"Thena, please, answer me!" he panted, even moving the creaky, old doors to make sure she wasn't hiding somewhere. How could she have just vanished into this air?

He shouldn't have let go of her hand.

"Thena, please!" he shouted, retracing their steps, shining his flashlight down every hall he passed. He knew most of them led to dead ends. Where could she have gone? His hand pulled out the walkie-talkie again, fumbling with it a little. "G-Guys?!"

"Gil, what's wrong?"

"Th-Thena!" he gulped, knowing they needed more information than that. "She was right next to me and-and now-"

"Whoa, Gil, slow down. Nothing's happened to Thena, I'm sure she just went to look at something that caught her eye," Sersi attempted to diffuse his worry.

"Why the hell weren't you keeping an eye on her?" Ikaris snapped at him in sharp contrast.

"Oi," Druig chimed in on his set. "You all need to calm down, I just saw 'er."

"What?" Gil frowned. Druig and Makkari were on the second level, although most of it was sectioned off thanks to a fire from the last century. He rushed to the stairs, "you're sure?"

"Yeah, I saw her walk clear through that light grid you put up, actually," Druig narrated. He paused and then continued, "Kari saw'er goin' down the far stairwell."

"You mean the one to your left?" Gil asked, rushing down the main stairs so quickly he almost tripped at the very bottom. But he took off, full on sprinting.

"Yeah?"

Based on where they had set up, there was no way Thena could be on the stairwell to their left, because it led to absolutely nowhere, just a collapsed hallway downstairs and a boarded up room at the top. Whatever they had seen wasn't Thena.

"Keep your nightvision cam on, okay? And you two stay there--and stay close together!"

"Gil, man, you okay?" Ikaris asked a little more sympathetically, obviously hearing the urgency in his voice over the loud and static-y walkies. "Like Sersi said, I'm sure Thena's just fine."

"I'm on my way to you, just sit tight," Gil huffed. His chest felt tight, like it was on fire. He looked around, only now on the second floor. This place was such a massive hell hole, who knew what kind of malevolent spirits were in here. "Guys?!"

"Hold yer bloody horses, man, hell," Druig flashed his light at him from within the main hallway of the floor. As soon as Gil rounded the corner, though, Druig was already on his feet. Despite his words, his face was dead serious, "she really not with you?"

Gil gulped. Tears sprang to his eyes, although he knew this wasn't the time. He shook his head, trying to catch his breath. The light grid they had set up to pick up any kind of movement was still shining into the closed off areas ahead.

He jumped, but Makkari rubbed his back with a reassuring smile. Druig shone the light a little closer to them to illuminate her words. This place is like a maze, I'm sure she's looking for you too.

That was actually what worried him. He had screamed for her, at the very top of his lungs. And not only had he not heard anything back, but apparently none of their friends had heard him either, which seemed impossible.

And if he couldn't hear Thena, then how would he know if she needed his help?

"Where did you see her?" he asked, shining his own light closer to his face for Kari to read his lips.

She pointed. I swear I saw her walk through the grid. I thought she saw something in the window.

Thena would never walk through the light grid herself; it would compromise any evidence they got of a spectral figure. Still, Gil moved closer to it. He shone the flashlight into the corridor, through the propped open door. It was hard to tell with the light in the window reflection, but he was pretty sure it was just a boarded up, empty room through there.

Druig took the liberty of packing up the light grid and putting it back in his bag. "Take a look."

Gil slid closer to the darkened hallway. Despite never having been on one of these hunts before, all their friends were far less scared than he was. Maybe because they definitely didn't believe in ghosts. His heart hammered as he entered the suffocating dark of the hallway. He pressed his flashlight to the window of the door that was boarded closed. If something jumped up at him he might have a heart attack.

It was just a closed up room, full of evidence of fire damage. He angled the light around as best he could without giving himself nothing but reflection to look at. He jumped as some kind of movement caught his eye. He tried to follow it but it was gone as soon as he saw it. But he knew it moved towards the other door to the room.

And it looked blonde.

Druig and Makkari made room for him as he started running towards the main stairs again. "Come on!"

"If she's messin' with us she's makin' us go through a hell of a workout," Druig felt the need to chime in, following him down the stairs.

But Gil knew that wasn't the case. Maybe - maybe - she might mess with Ikaris a little, possibly Druig, all in good fun. But she would never make him worry about her like this, she just wouldn't. She would never scare him like this, not when it was always her calming him down on these hunts.

It really was like a labyrinth in this place. Gil leapt down the last two stairs and whipped open the doors to the main floor. "Did you see her?!"

Ikaris and Sersi both jumped off the bench of the entrance hallway. They looked at each other and then at him. They still had most of the equipment set up around them, and a floodlight pointed at the ceiling for a little more illumination of the area.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ikaris growled at him for storming in the way he did. "Didn't you see her on your level?"

Druig shrugged, "thought we did."

But Gil rushed past all of them, taking a right and pulling open the doors. This place was so massive, it was hard to keep track. But if the figure he had seen in the other room had been Thena, or worse, something else, it would have ended up in here. "Thena!"

Still, nothing but his own voice. It didn't echo like it did upstairs, though. He moved his flashlight around, seeing all the junk that was pushed into this empty but undamaged area of the building. He moved more slowly.

His heart was still hammering, but he made himself take each next step. He couldn't stop until Thena's hand was in his again. "Thena, are you in here?"

He could have sworn a voice whispered back to him. It would have been great potential evidence if he had any equipment or was recording anything. But for now, he took the potential whisper of 'she's mine' and scowled. "No, she's not."

Whatever whispered at him didn't have another reply to that.

Gil slid around a corner constructed of old office furniture, flashing his light in every nook and cranny. "She's my girlfriend! Whatever you are, find someone on your own plain of existence!"

Something rattled in a far corner. He really was going to have a heart attack in here. But he gulped, re-grasping his flashlight in his sweaty palm. No ghost was getting his precious Thena--not tonight.

He moved closer to the rattling. It was a doorknob turning. Okay, so he might die in here tonight. He hoped his friends would escape, at least. But if he did die, then maybe he could be with Thena. If she had died alone in here, he would never forgive himself.

There was a door, and the doorknob was turning.

Gil let out a breath and steeled his resolve again. He could do this. He would do this! He could do anything if it was for Thena. Thena, he repeated to himself as he reached for the doorknob, Thena, Thena, Thena.

As soon as he touched the doorknob, it was no longer locked, and flew open. Thena tumbled into the room, straight into his chest as he caught her. Both of their flashlights fell and rattled on the ground as they held onto each other.

"Gil!" Thena gasped into his shirt, burying her face in it as soon as she knew it was him. "I-I-I didn't--I-I thought-!"

"It's okay, it's okay," he gulped, holding her as tight as he could without hurting her. It was really Thena in his arms, small and warm, blonde hair under his chin. His tears came again, and he didn't force them away, "you're really here."

Thena held onto him just as tightly, clawing at the back of his shirt so she could hold fistfuls of it. "I-I turned around and you were gone--just gone! And I tried shouting for you but I couldn't hear anything around me but silence. And then I thought I saw this--th-this thing-!"

"It's okay, I'm here," he whispered. He couldn't process any of what she was saying right now. All he could think about was the comfort of having his Thena in his arms again.

Slowly, they released one another. Thena sniffled, laughing as she put her hands on his cheeks. "I'm supposed to be the one here for you."

He laughed as well, just as watery and tearful. He put his hands on her cheeks as well, "I can be here for you, just this once."

She leaned into him again as he kissed her.

"You two okay?!"

Thena pulled back and picked her flashlight up first. She shone it around the room, "where are we?"

Gil frowned as she handed him his flashlight as well. "We're on the ground floor, in that side room we checked out first thing tonight."

"The ground floor?" she repeated, looking completely baffled. "We were on the third floor. I-I felt something pull me and I thought it was you, then I was in this completely other room. I was trying to find my way back to you in the hall."

Nice try, ghost creep; Gil took her hand, weaving their fingers together. He could carry his flashlight in his mouth if he had to.

"Gil," Thena continued to frown as he guided them back towards the entrance, "I didn't go down any stairs. We can't possibly be downstairs again."

"It's okay, Thena," he reassured her blindly. It didn't matter. None of it mattered, now that his fear was lifting. He waved as a flashlight circled from where the door was. "I got her!"

Collective sighs of relief were had. Ikaris was the first to bark at them, "what the hell, Thena?! You nearly scared the big guy half to death--that's not funny!"

"Shush," Sersi soothed the beast beside her, as she always did. "We're just glad you're both okay."

Druig and Makkari gave them both more curious looks, "where the hell were did you go?"

"I-" Thena looked at each of them, seeming completely stunned. "I don't know."

"Doesn't matter," Gil spoke up, more sure of this now than he had been about anything all night. "We're getting out of here--now."

He pushed through them, pulling Thena to the door to the outside, hand in hand. He could hear their friends packing up all the equipment behind them.

"Yappin' orders at us now, is he?" he could hear Ikaris gripe behind them.

"Stop it, they've been through enough." How did Sersi put up with him?

Finally outside, Gil took a deep breath. He put his hands on Thena's cheek again, urging her to do the same. She did, but she looked up at him. "Really Gil, I thought I was making my way back to you. I didn't even see any stairs, there's no way I could have-"

"We'll figure it out later," he resolved. They could do that in a safe place, where there was overhead lighting, and a warm mug of her favourite tea. Maybe he'd even have a blanket around her shoulders and massage her feet. "All that matters is you're safe."

Thena's face shifted to something like guilt. She looked down at their joined hands. "I thought I saw you."

"What?"

"What lured me away," she admitted quietly, and maybe with the first bit of true fear he had heard her voice all night. "I thought I saw you in one of those other rooms. That was what made me follow...whatever it was in there."

It had lured him the same way. But, again, that could wait until they were in a brightly lit space with firmly locked doors.

Gil kissed her forehead and pulled her into his arms. "I found you again, so it doesn't really matter."

"Hm," she sighed, nuzzling her face into his chest again. "I knew I'd find you, I guess you finding me is okay, too."

Ah, his invincible Thena. She was the truly unshaken of the two of them. But he had to admit, he was assured by tonight that he had what it took to square up if he really needed to. If it was for the woman he loved, at least.

[genmaichafan]

FREN! IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE’VE TALKED!

WHAT IF: Some rando has been trying to flirt with the reader. He seems to be ignoring how uncomfortable the reader is. This makes Donna incredibly jealous, as she doesn’t take kindly to creeps trying to steal away her girlfriend. As such, she TERRIFIES the creep and sweeps her gf home (lots of kisses and fluff ensue).

TY SM

Hello hello friend i have written it sorry i dont think its my best work and i kinda ignored the second half of the prompt because i uhh got lost in the sauce of an idea.

Anyways enjoy.

Donna x f!reader. modern au. sfw.

You had been at the coffee bar for a while now, Donna had just gone out to grab something quickly at the time being.

You loved this coffee shop.

the barista was friendly and always knew your favourite order. The seat you always wanted in the corner was often empty. And most of all it was quiet.

Something both Donna and you appreciated.

But today of all days there was a promotion going on for old brew that seemed to draw in people like crazy.

it was packed.

and worst of all there was this guy here. That seemed to be eying you up and down with a smirk, something in his eyes said he thought you were easy prey.

”donna please come back so we can leave” you whispered under your breath.

”talking to you self pretty lady?”

oh god he actually approached you.

”yeah i like talking to myself and the voices!” You tried to make him think you were mentally unwell so he would leave you alone.

”whoa. Spicy. I like that.”

you internally face palmed. This frat boy was not going to leave you any times soon.

“Yes I actually am waiting for my partner-“

”oh yeah? You guys open or something?”

you hadn’t noticed but donna had been back from whatever errand she had been doing and had heard the very last thing the creepy man said. She was seething beyond repair.

”no we aren’t open.”

”oh you're her partner?”

he eyed her up and down like he did you earlier.

Donna’s response to this was to start speaking tongues of obscure italian. literally cursing the man. Donna was not a witch but she was trying to cast imaginary spells.

to further sell her game she took out her large and intimidating garden pruning sheers and cut off a lock of his hair really quickly. Not before clutching and blowing the lock into his face further selling the gambit.

The gullible man's face was turning more and more pale and when the final move was cast his hands were shaking.

”w-witchcraft!!” He did not think twice about running away.

donna quickly walked up to you. Dropping the facade. Quickly taking up your hands into hers.

”are you okay mi amore?!”

”yes, thanks to you.” You smile was half amusement still remembering the display, and half adoration.

”im glad.” she brought her lips to your quickly, hoping to wipe the remainder of the man’s presence on your mind away.

”what were you going to get?”

”thats a secret. For now.”

”no fair you know i dont like secrets.”

”i know i know but im hoping youll be happy to see it.”

_____

“Are you sure we should go to our secret spot? It’s going to be super dark this time of night.”

”I promise it won't be that bad mi amore.”

Had it been anyone else you would have not believed them. You were heading to a secret alcove in the nearby park that Donna and your friends liked to hang out at but it didn't have much of a way of being illuminated in the dark, but you knew better.

”ok i trust you.”

Donna's response to this was to take your hand and begin racing towards the park pulling you along with her.

you two laughed along the whole way as if playing like children.

_____

When you arrived you didn't want to say it but youre were kinda right.

it was almost pitch black in the hide away and you couldn’t really see anything. Luckily; you could make out certain shapes enough to not fall or trip on anything. Not to mention you suddenly had no idea where Donna was.

”Donna?”

”right here mi amore” she was right behind you.

“What are we doing here today my love?”

”oh you'll see.”

Just like that the lights that had never been here before turned on. The alcove was beautifully decorated to yours and donnas personal tastes almost as if there was going to be a celebration of shorts set up with fairy lights set up with an extra table with Champaign.

before you could even ask what was going on, Donna got down on one knee.

your breath hitched.

”[y/n], will you marry me?”

Somehow you had managed to bring yourself to affirm that you would in-fact love to marry Donna through the shock.

“Yes! I would love to marry you!”

You two quickly brought each other's lips halfway to meet in the middle in union. savoring the moment between you two and the deep connection you shared. Donna smiled so widely when you finally parted that she had to cover her face a bit. A bad habit that she had not managed to nip that you found extremely cute.

”I love you donna.”

”and I love you more than you could ever know.”

[harley-sunday]

Feels Like Home [03]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 4.6k

AN: Daniel in this chapter is just... Oof. I hope you like it, if you could take some time to leave a comment that would mean so much :) ♥

Masterlist

“Alright, Boss,” Daniel jokes with a wide grin, “tell me what to do.” It’s his first official day as her farmhand and even though she told him yesterday what she expects from him he might have been too busy looking at her to really hear anything she said. 

“Well,” she draws out, looking from him to the alpacas and back, “it’s Sunday, so it’s time for their weekly bath, maybe you could-”

“I’m sorry, what?” Daniel eyes the girls suspiciously, not sure how he feels about bathing three killing machines who could take him out in a second. Try explaining that to Blake, he thinks to himself with a wry smile.

“Well yeah, I mean, they’re outside all week long, so I usually take them down to the river on Sundays and give them a nice wash.” She nods towards her truck, “There’s a bottle of shampoo and a brush in my truck.”

Ok. He’s got this. This is nothing compared to driving a race car at three hundred k’s per hour, right? It’s just three alpacas, and they’ve probably been bathed lots of times before, and if she can do it he surely can. Right? Daniel swallows hard, mentally preparing himself for the task at hand by taking a deep breath, trying not to show fear because he’s convinced the girls will pick up on that and- Ok. One at a time. He'll start with Blanche, she's definitely the least threatening, then Babs, and Betsy last.

“I usually take all three of them at the same time,” she says then. “They get a little antsy when they’re separated.”

Oh. Ok. He risks another glance at the girls who are huddled together in the corner of the paddock, eating some grass and probably having a better time than he is right now. But. One alpaca or three alpacas, same difference, right? So why does his voice come out all high and squeaky when he tells her, “Yeah, nah, no worries.” 

Next to him he can hear her let out a laugh and he’s about to tell her that this might not be the best idea but then her hand is on his arm and she looks up at him with a mischievous smile, “I was just messing with you, Daniel.” 

“Oh, thank God,” he breathes before he composes himself. Or tries to, anyway, “I mean, I was going to do it but-”

“Yeah, nah, I could totally see that,” she jokes, her hand squeezing his arm as she winks at him. “Why don’t you fill up their feeder inside and I’ll get started on cleaning out the shed?”

“That I can do,” Daniel agrees easily enough. He takes the bucket of grains out of her truck and starts making his way over to the shed. As soon as he opens the gate he can see the alpacas hurrying over to him and so he makes a quick dash to the shed to avoid being trampled to death by a herd of angry alpacas. Or at least, three very hungry ones. Still they catch up with him and he lets out an embarrassing yelp when Blanche head buts him in the back, “Jeepers, Blanche!”

“She likes you,” she says from where she’s leaning on her pitch fork. 

“I like you too,” Daniel tells the white alpaca in a soft voice, trying not to spook her, “but I’m gonna need you to keep your distance, ma’am.” 

***

When you hit the call button you take a deep breath, trying to settle the nerves in your stomach that have formed a nice little knot there ever since Granddad suggested asking Daniel to help you out and gave you his number, and bite your lip while you wait for the call to go through. 

He answers with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Hi Daniel, it’s-”

“Well, hello neighbour,” he says then and you swear you can feel his megawatt smile beaming at you through the phone. “Everything alright? Is this you calling me to tell me what an excellent job I did today?”

“Uhm, no-” You can’t help but laugh, “But sure. Thank you for today, Daniel. You did an excellent job.”

“Thank you, that sounded very genuine and not at all prompted,” he laughs.

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I uh-” you clear your throat, trying to get rid of your pinched voice, “I wanted to ask if you maybe could do me a favour tomorrow?”

“Hmm,” he hums in reply and you think you can hear him sit down somewhere, “that depends.”

“On?”

“On what the favour is. I’ve got no problem feeding the girls but if you’re going to tell me that because it’s Monday it’s time for Oscar’s his weekly bath I might-”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, “No.” A little cheeky then, “That’s not until next Friday anyway.” He chuckles and you can feel your nerves settle down a little, “I do have to take Granddad into town tomorrow though. The doctor wants to see him for a follow-up and so I was wondering if you maybe could watch Ellie for an hour or two? Mrs Mackenzie was supposed to watch her but she’s not feeling too well, so- Normally I would take Ellie with me but it’s right around her nap time and she gets a little grumpy when she doesn’t get enough sleep so I’d rather-”

“You want me to hang out with Miss Ellie?”

“Well, she’d be asleep for most of it,” you try to reassure him because he sounds a little- hesitant, maybe. “Really it’s just babysitting her for two hours tops but if you don’t-”

“I’d love to,” he interrupts you quickly. “What time do you need me to come over?”

“We have to leave at one-”

“I’ll be there.”

You can’t help the smile that grows ever wider, “Thank you so much, Dan. I really appre-”

“Stop it,” he counters, no doubt with a grin. “I’m happy to help out.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep from thanking him again and so instead you simply say, “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yep. Catch you later, neighbour.”

***

“Thanks for another great workout, Mikey, it’s been swell,” Daniel says once they’re done with their Monday morning session. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Michael eyes him suspiciously, “You’re awfully chipper today-”

“What?” Daniel chuckles and shrugs, “Am I not allowed to enjoy working out?”

“You are,” Michael draws out, “it’s just that usually you don’t.”

“It was a good workout, mate,” Daniel says as he claps Michael’s back. Of course he knows exactly what brought on his good mood, because he’s been looking forward to babysitting Ellie all day, but he doesn’t necessarily need Michael to know that. 

“Sure,”

“What?” Daniel says again. “Don’t doubt yourself, Mikey. Your workouts are great!”

“I’m not sure what’s going on here,” Michael says, circling his finger in front of Daniel’s chest, “but keep up with the flattery, mate. It’s better than your usual complaining.”

“Awesome.” Daniel risks a quick glance at his watch then and sees it’s already a quarter past twelve and he still needs to shower and- “It’s been swell, mate. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yep,” Michael agrees bluntly. He narrows his eyes at Daniel then, “Do I need Blake to schedule a drug test or something?” He lowers his voice, “Are you involved in illegal activities, Dan? I mean, I’m not against the use of CBD oil but I don’t think smoking weed is-”

“Out!” Daniel pushes his friend towards the door with a shake of his head even though he can’t help the smile that tugs on the corners of his mouth, “Don’t be a nosy Nellie, mate. It doesn’t suit you.” 

Michael gives him the finger but then heads to his car and so Daniel turns on his heels and heads for the shower, and if he’s already picked out the outfit he’s going to wear, so what? It’s efficient.

He’s out of the house twenty minutes later and when he pulls up in front of Oscar’s house there’s still ten minutes to spare. Daniel knocks and then lets himself in like he always does, finding his neighbour in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea, “Hiya Oscar.”

“Hi Danny,” Oscar replies, his face lighting up with a smile.

“How you doing, mate?”

“Not too bad,” Oscar agrees easily enough. As always he’s a man of little words and doesn’t really elaborate. Instead he nods to the ceiling, “She’s just putting Ellie to bed, shouldn’t take long.”

“Oh, that’s ok,” Daniel says as he sits down in one of the kitchen chairs after helping himself to a cup of coffee.

“Listen, Dan,” Oscar starts and for some reason Daniel knows whatever comes next is important, “they’ve been through a lot, both of them. It wasn’t easy when Ellie’s dad-” Oscar shakes his head, “That’s not really my story to tell but I need you to understand that she doesn’t trust people easily, so for her to ask you to watch Ellie, the one person who means more to her than anyone, well-” he locks eyes with Daniel, “It’s a big ask from her and a big responsibility for you. Don’t muck about, son. Ok? Not just now, with babysitting Ellie, but with her as well. I might not be as quick as I was before but I won’t hesitate to hunt you down if you ever hurt her.”

“Understood,” Daniel says with a nod because he does. He could tell she was hesitant to accept his help when he first offered it and even more so when she called him yesterday and so he wants to do anything but hurt the trust she’s put in him. 

“Good,” Oscar says, taking another sip of his tea.

When he hears her coming down the stairs he leans in a little closer to Oscar and tells him, “I’m not gonna let her down, promise.”

“That’s a big promise to make, Danny,” Oscar counters with his eyebrows raised.

“I know,” Daniel gives him a big smile, “but I intend to keep it.”

It’s then she walks into the kitchen, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Daniel beams back at her, a little taken aback by how different she looks out of her normal work clothes because even though she’s wearing jeans and a simple black top she looks absolutely gorgeous. He clears his throat and tries not to stare when he asks, “Ellie’s asleep?”

“Yep,” she nods. “Out like a light. I doubt she’ll wake up before we get back but just in case there’s a bottle of milk in the fridge that you just need to heat up and if she wants she can have a banana.”

“Gotcha.”

“You have my number so call me if there’s anything, ok?” She waits until he nods before she casually adds, “She likes you so I don’t think she’ll mind you being there but if she does throw a little tantrum-”

“I’ll call,” Daniel adds, trying to reassure her that he’s got this while still basking in the fact that Ellie likes him. 

She turns towards Oscar then, “Ready to go?”

Daniel helps Oscar to her car and promises once again to call if there’s anything before he heads back inside and settles on the couch with his phone, making good use of his time by catching up on some emails.

Ellie wakes up somewhere around two-thirty and Daniel’s on his feet at her first cry, a little nervous when he walks up the stairs to where Oscar told him her room is. The little girl is sitting in her cot, looking at him with big eyes and so he lowers his voice, trying to let her know it’s ok when he says, “Hi Miss Ellie. How you going?”

Ellie looks up at him, her little eyebrows knitted together as she studies him for a moment, but then she must recognise him because she holds out her hands to him, “Danny.”

“That’s right,” Daniel says as he picks her up and kisses her cheek. “How you going, sleepyhead?”

She leans back a little in his arms, looking over his shoulder, “Momma?”

“Momma’s taking Granddad to see the doctor, sweetheart,” Daniel explains as he gently wipes her hair out of her face. “She’ll be back soon.”

Ellie seems to think about it for a second but then seems content with his answer and lets her head rest against his shoulder, “Milk?”

Daniel laughs, “Yep. Let’s go get you some milk, huh?” He pokes her side then, “And maybe a banana?”

Ellie’s head shoots up, her eyes wide, whispering a quiet, “‘Nana?”

“Banana,” Daniel confirms quietly as he turns around. He makes his way down the stairs carefully before he walks to the kitchen and sits her down in her high chair. 

Ellie’s quietly singing to herself as he waits for the microwave to heat up her bottle and at first he can’t make out what she’s going on about but then the microwave beeps and it’s quiet in the kitchen again and he hears her loud and clear, “Danny, banana. Danny, banana. Danny, banana.” 

Daniel presses a kiss to the top of her head as he puts her bottle down in front of her, “You’re the coolest kid ever, Miss Ellie." When she smiles up at him he grins back at her, "Don’t tell my niece and nephew I said that, ok? Our little secret.”

***

It’s close to three when you pull up to the house and part of you wants to rush inside, to check up on Ellie, and Daniel, but you know you can’t just leave Granddad behind. Instead you turn to him, “I’ll go ask Daniel to come help, ok?”

Your granddad grunts something in reply and you can’t help but smile because you know it’s nothing personal, know it’s just because he hates not being able to do something as simple as getting out of a car on his own and if anything you admire the way he still cares about his independence. 

You hear him continue his rant as you step out of the car but don't really pay it any mind, music coming from the house drawing your attention instead. When you walk past Homer, who's curled up on the old couch on the front porch, he looks at you as if to say he doesn't know what's going on either. You pat his head and tell him, "Good boy," before you let yourself in and head for the kitchen.

The loud music means they haven't heard you come in and so you allow yourself a moment to take it all in - Daniel with the sleeves of his t-shirt pushed up, excitedly showing off his tattoos to Ellie, pointing at them and explaining to her what they are. Ellie seems absolutely enthralled by all the pictures etched into his skin, her little fingers now tracing the lines of a cupid on his arm. You feel something settle inside of your chest as you watch your daughter and Daniel together, both of them so at ease, and it's something you haven’t felt in a long time. Before you have time to explore it some more your daughter spots you and so you push yourself off from where you were leaning against the doorframe and walk over to where Ellie’s sitting in her high chair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Hi bub. You having fun?"

Daniel nods, "She's been like this ever since she woke up half an hour ago," just as Ellie points at Daniel’s tattoo, “Cupid!”

“Yeah, that’s a cupid,” you agree with a smile, trying your hardest not to stare at Daniel's tan arms but failing miserably and so you clear your throat to distract yourself. 

If Daniel notices anything he's kind enough not to mention it and instead puts his sweater back on. Once that's over his head he looks at you with a grin, "What you do to the old man? Leave him behind at the nursing home?"

You laugh and shake your head, "He's in the car. Would you mind helping him out?"

"On it," Daniel says with a click of his tongue, pointing a pair of finger guns at the two of you before he pulls a face and turns around. 

Both you and Ellie watch in silence as he walks out of the kitchen, Ellie letting out a quiet, "Danny," when he turns the corner and you letting out a heavy sigh at the same time. When Ellie looks up at you, you smile back at her, drawing out a "Yeah."

Ellie, bless her, claps her hands in response and then blows a raspberry at you.

You comb your fingers through her hair absentmindedly, "Same, bub-" Another sigh then, "Same."

Daniel and Granddad make it inside not much later, but it’s only Daniel who returns to the kitchen, running a hand through his hair as he says, “He asked me to put him in the living room.”

“He’s a little grumpy,” you whisper with a wink. “Hasn’t had his afternoon nap yet so-” you see-saw your hand and let the rest of that sentence hang in the air unspoken.  

“Gotcha,” Daniel says with a grin, looking a bit unsure of himself. He shakes his head then and points at the window, “I don’t know about you two but maybe we could go for a walk? It’s nice enough outside and I don’t mind stretching my legs for a bit.” 

You look down at Ellie, “You wanna go for a walk, bub?”

Ellie’s eyes light up and she whispers a happy, “Yeah,” before she looks at Daniel, “Come with?”

“Yep,” Daniel nods. “I’m definitely coming with, my friend.”

“I’ll just go get her changed real quick,” you tell Daniel as you pick Ellie up from her seat. “Shouldn’t take long.”

“I’ll wait outside for you,” Daniel offers with a grin. “Wouldn’t want to disturb the old man during his nap.” 

When you come down a little later, Ellie in a pair of pale green dungarees and a fleece made from Alpaca wool, you find Daniel sitting next to Homer on the porch swing, albeit with some distance between them. You can’t help but tease, “Cautious of the dog too, Ricciardo?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a nod, rubbing his hands on the fabric of his jeans. “Although I trust him more than I do the alpacas.” 

You click your tongue, “Better not let the girls hear that.” Ellie starts wriggling in your arms and so you put her down, watching as she wobbles over to the apple orchard, where Granddad put up a swing for you in one of the trees when you were Ellie’s age. You look at Daniel and shrug, “Guess we’re going that way.” 

Ellie’s surprisingly quick on her little legs and already waiting for you at the swing by the time you catch up with her. Daniel doesn’t hesitate and picks her up so he can put her into the seat, gently pushing her once she’s in, drawing excited giggles from her, his own smile growing wider with every push. 

You and Daniel talk about the farm mostly, how it was back when you were a kid and how much has changed since your grandmother passed away a few years ago. When he asks if you could ever see yourself moving here full time, you hesitate, “I’m not sure.” You shrug then, “I think I could manage what little livestock we have now but I’m not sure if I could be the best mum to Ellie if I have the farm to worry about.”

“Hmm,” he agrees quietly, encouraging you to go on.

“It’s a lot of work,” you explain. “I mean, if it wasn't just me maybe it’d be different but-”

“Can I-” Daniel stops himself but when you nod, because you know what he’s going to ask, he clears his throat and continues, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where’s Ellie’s dad?”

“Dunno.” You smile to let him know it’s ok, “We were together for six or seven months before I found out he was married, so I broke it off and told him I never wanted to see him again. Two months later I found out I was pregnant.”

“Does he-”

“He knows about Ellie, but he already has a wife and kids so-” You look at Ellie, “He signed away his rights when she was born and asked not to bother him anymore.”

“Wow,” Daniel shakes his head. “What an a-” He looks at Ellie and corrects himself just in time, “What a despicable human being.”

You shrug, “It’s fine. For me it’s better this way but-” you swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump that has started to form in your throat, “I worry about the day Ellie’s going to ask about him, you know? Can you imagine? ‘Oh yeah, funny you should ask, kid, but your dad doesn’t want anything to do with you.’” You scoff, “I hate that he’s put me in that position but on the other hand, if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have her so-”

“If it’s any consolation,” Daniel says with a hesitant smile, “she’s a carbon copy of you, both the way she looks and her personality. People will always know she’s your kid.” 

“That’s very kind, thank you,” you tell him with a warm smile.

Ellie decides then she’s had enough of the swing and holds up her arms, “Out.”

You can’t help but laugh and nod at your daughter, “You heard her, Daniel. She wants out.” 

Daniel laughs and picks up Ellie, lifting her onto his shoulders before he turns to you, “Why don’t you show me your favourite place on the farm?”

“My favourite place,” you echo slowly, trying to choose between the little creek over in the Burned Oak paddock or- Looking at your daughter then, who is giggling with glee from being so high up, the choice is easy, “Ok. Let’s go.” You lead Daniel through the orchard to a field that at first glance doesn’t look like anything special but you know in a few months time will look completely different.

When you reach the gate you look at him from over your shoulder, “This is it.”

“Ok,” he draws out, probably not sure if you’re joking or not.

“You’ll have to come back in December,” you tell him, without thinking much of it, without fully realising you actually want him to come back, want to have him in your life for more than just the two weeks you’re promised now, “the entire place will be covered in poppies. It’s beautiful.” You poke Ellie’s side then, “It’s why her second name is Poppy.”

“Because you love the flowers so much?” Daniel guesses.

“That and because she was born on December third, when they are in full bloom.” You take your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and pull up your picture gallery, scrolling back to a picture of Ellie’s second birthday, where you took a few pictures of her surrounded by thousands of red poppies. You angle your phone to Daniel, “See?” 

“Oh wow.”

“Right?” You smile at Ellie, “A very pretty girl in the middle of some very pretty flowers.” 

Ellie yawns in response and when you look at the time on your phone you’re surprised to see it’s already close to five. You look at Daniel, “We should probably head back. Don’t want the wrath of Granddad unleashed on us because of dinner being late.”

Daniel laughs, “Yeah, nah, we could do without.”

***

It’s been less than a week since Daniel offered to help out on the farm, but already you’ve settled into an easy rhythm. You still do your chores around the house in the morning, make lunch, put Ellie down for her nap, and spend some time outside until your granddad calls, have a coffee break, head back outside again together with Ellie for an hour or so until it’s five o’clock and it’s time to make dinner. Or, well, warm up dinner. The meals Daniel brought you only require a few minutes in the microwave and save you so much time. 

Daniel usually shows up around five-thirty, entertaining Ellie long enough for you and Granddad to finish your dinner in relative peace before you take Ellie upstairs to get her ready for the night while Daniel and your Granddad drink a cuppa and gossip about the neighbours and whatever footie game was on that day. By now Granddad is a lot more independent around the house, but getting him ready both in the mornings and at night is still something you need to help him with. He seems a bit happier though and in the end that’s all that matters.  

Once Ellie is asleep, you and Daniel head outside, taking your Granddad’s ute out to Eagle’s nest to tend to the alpacas. More often than not, Homer jumps into the back of the truck once you set off, having taken a special liking to the alpacas ever since they arrived on the farm a few years ago. 

It’s where you find yourself today, an unusually warm Wednesday evening, with Homer dozing off next to the fence while you and Daniel clean out the shed so you can put in fresh hay later. The warmer weather means both you and Daniel have ditched your jackets, Daniel even going as far as taking his sweater off and working in only a t-shirt and so you keep finding yourself stealing glances at his arms and the way his tattoos stand out against his skin. 

Of course Daniel catches you looking, “Like what you see?” 

Is he flirting with you? If he is, it’s working because you feel the heat rise to your cheeks but try to shrug it off, “I’ve seen better.” 

“Hmm,” he teases and throws you a wink. “Let me know if it’s too distracting, babe. I’ll put my sweater back on.”

Babe? Oh God. He really is flirting with you. Fine. Two can play that game, you decide as you lean on your pitchfork, “Are you flexing right now?” You laugh when he seems confused and tease him some more, “Oh my God, you are. You are actually flexing your muscles.”

“Am not,” he shoots back, throwing his spade aside and taking on one of those ridiculous bodybuilder poses, one leg bent as he turns his torso towards you and pumps the muscles in his arms, “Now I am.” He goes through a whole array of poses and ends up with his back towards you, flexing his butt cheeks.

You hate the giggle that escapes you and so you try to play it cool and applaud his efforts instead, holding up an invisible sign, “Ten out of ten, Danny. You have impressed the judges.”

“Judges-” he echoes, “or judge?”

Biting your bottom lip you scrunch your nose, “It takes a lot more than that to impress this judge-” then, because why not, “-babe.” 

“Oooh,” Daniel draws out and puts his hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt by your comment, “way to kick me down, boss. Jeepers.”

“You wanna impress me?” You nod towards the last of the dirty hay, “Clean that out for me and then we’ll talk.” 

“Or,” Daniel starts, taking a step closer to you and making you look up at him, “I could take you out to dinner on Friday.”

You nod, your throat a little dry from how close he’s standing, “Or you could do that.” 

[genopaint]

Week 14 done and done! We're fast approaching day 100! So please take some time to pitch your ideas for the day 100 dragon!

As always you can follow me on twitter where they’re posted daily

And read more info on each of them below the cut

Daily Dragon #91 - Cuddlodon

By popular vote, and a tie breaker from my sibling who hadn't seen any of the designs before so they weren't biased: Cuddlodon is the most popular dragon of March! So, of course, this means they get a brand spanking new piece of art! Aint they cute?

My favorite March dragon, personally, is probably still the Rawrnosaur, personally I called it, March was very rough. I'm really hoping things can start to calm down from here! Thank you all again for your support and patience!

Here's the Results of the vote:

Cuddlodon - 2 Votes Velocidunce - 2 Votes Molluscreep - 2 Votes Gemini Dragons - 2 Votes Barbequsaur - 2 Votes Googlysaur - 1 Vote Snoozosaur - 1 Vote Shrine Dragon - 1 Vote Lil Dragon - 1 Vote

Thank you all again for voting!

We're fast approaching day 100 of the year! That means there's still like, 200 dragons left to draw? I got my work cut out for me!

Daily Dragon #92 - Blue

I've got to say it... Green is such a tacky color. I'm over it. I'm Blue now 💙

Bahamut? Old hat. It's all about Leviathan now

Happy April Fools, everyone!

Daily Dragon #93 - Red

I'm over it. I'm Red now- No I'm just messing. But I did really want to go ahead and try making a fun design for the third dragon girl! Meet Red, she's Behemoth :)

Daily Dragon #94 - Yellow

And with that, my main 4 dragons all have nice girlie forms :) This one is of course Ziz and because of that she has wings!

Daily Dragon #95 - Komodo

Komodos are bulky enemies found early in grasslands, they're bulky but not too bad to deal with. As you progress on your journey you'll encounter stronger cousins that can cast spells and even steal HP from you!

Daily Dragon #96 - Punkodon

A mean, raptor built dragon that spews out highly corrosive acid. They make popular pets, imagery, and fursonas for adventurers who are more edgy and cool

Daily Dragon #97 - Teacup Dragon

Because it's so tiny, it can't breathe fire very well. And will occasionally burp up smoke after eating. Do you love them?

This concept was cooked up and the design was helped by my sister, by the way!! So I think this is the first collaborative dragon?

[emp-t-man]

the energy for tonight is Significantly Lower but we persist regardless. episode 3 be upon ye

there’s something to be said about just how robotic hera sounds, especially in this episode, since one of her only purposes here is to relay information from hilbert like she’s some sort of amazon alexa rather than an actual member of the crew with her own thoughts and feelings on the whole biannual physical thing. sure it could be explained by “oh, the writers wanted to introduce her as an ai rather than a crew member so it could be deconstructed later, it was their decision”. but i think it gets a little more interesting if you think of it as being hera’s choice. because she’s still incredibly young at this point, barely two years old, and she knows that if she does anything to piss the “real” members of the crew off, they could report her to goddard the moment they got back home and she would be disposed of because cutter and pryce would determine she clearly hasn’t learned her lesson. because mind you, everyone still thinks they’re going home, right now, and soon. and hera has no idea what’s going to happen to her when their rotation is over, so she might as well be as pleasant and agreeable as she can so that she has a hope of surviving when all is said and done.

also? i think it says something that eiffel was behind minkowski one hundred percent when she first pitched her alibi as to why she couldn’t participate in the physical (before things went bad) instead of immediately ratting her out to buy himself more time. it’s surprisingly incredibly selfless of him, and something i think gets forgotten when people talk about how much of a dick he is in the earlier seasons (which, don’t get me wrong, he still is)

once again, i HATE those LOUD ASS RADIO STATIC TRANSITIONS. cannot WAIT to get past those

i know this is definitely just because gabriel needed a silly concept to set hilbert up as “sketchy scientist guy”, but what the HELL is actually up with these exams and why do they need to be so brutal, my god, he does NOTHING like that for the rest of the mission even when he’s explicitly seeing eiffel for decima reasons. mans is fucked up /j

obviously i’m gonna say something about the “i could kiss you” comment. i will never forgive blessie for fucking around and distracting minkowski from actually processing what he said there

again, the deliveries here (and usually always) are incredible. especially on “wITH NAPALM, YOU MORON”. these actors are everything to me

that’s all i’m really up for tn, there’s more i have in my head but i fear if i continue to type for much longer instead of going to bed i’ll explode <3