#after having peeked out of there for several seasons

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @mkdecimation, thank you Elli beloved <3

So I figured I might as well share a bit of a sneak peek for chapter 1 of Shadow Dance, where Rory is off on her own mission in Algeria before joining in on the mw2 canon later on:

Refusing to lose sight of the eyes that had spotted her, she made her way through the alleys of the casbah, descending its steps several at a time with each bounding leap. Her long legs stretching with the grace of a gazelle in the savannah, it’s tail wagging as if to tempt the jaws of fate to clamp down. 

Market stalls passed her by in a blur of colours, her vision awash in an impressionistic palette. Breathing in the scent of fragrant exotic spices and the distinctive warmth of coffee beans, her senses sharpened by the rich aromatics. 

Running.

Skirting around a street food vendor’s stand. 

Steam rose, the smell of seasoned, cooked meat wafting along the haze of hot afternoon air hit her like a brick wall. The smoky hint of paprika swirled down her nostrils and danced along her taste buds starting her mouth watering. 

In her gluttonous daze, Rory’s hip clipped the wood of the counter and sent a sharp spasm of pain through her thigh and down into the ball of her foot. Hissing, she stumbled forward, carried by the momentum as her feet skidded out from under her. Bumping into nearby patrons, she made her abrupt apologies in slurred Arabic, glancing back over her shoulder with a contrite wave as she picked up her pace and carried on. 

The market was abuzz around her, but the voices were no more than a hum. A cacophony of tenors and altos harmonized into one buzz as she ran past. A collective where no one specific resonance stood out on its own. 

Running.

Vaulting over the hood of a car. Breaking through the maze of sandy beige walls, she reached the street. Her denim covered legs slid across the hot metal hood of the Dacia like she was one of the Dukes of Hazzard. Feet hitting the ground with a thud, she took off once more, arms swinging by her ribs with controlled form, her body the singular tool available until she caught her target. 

Fuck. Why did they always have to bloody run?

Her lungs ached with the sensation of searing daggers being shoved through her rib cage. Sweat stained the back of her neck, drops of it trailing down her chest and into her bra that clung like a second skin – uncomfortable, too tight, and unbearably hot. But what was the old saying: Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun? For now, she merely had to be thankful that she wasn’t wearing body armour on top, the weight would only serve to drag her down. “Nik, tell me you’ve got eyes on this bastard,” she muttered into her earpiece. Each breath she took akin to the short, heavy panting of an overheated dog as she put on an extra burst of speed.  “Made a break through the crowd on other side of the marketplace,” he replied, as cool as ever, nonchalant in his response – a trait of his that Rory had come to rely on when shit started to hit the fan. “Heading towards the apartment building at the corner.”

“Flats. Got it,” she huffed. 

Legs burning as shin splints set in, the soles of her boots continued to pound against the old, worn cobblestone at full sprint. Fanned by the warm, arid wind that blew, fluttering through the awnings above her, causing the cloth to billow and flap like sails. 

When I find the son of a bitch, I’ll bloody kill him. Sweat dripped down her temples and dampened her hair, leaving it clinging to the skin. Her back and pits turned swampy the more she refused to slow her pace, even the back of her knees had begun to perspire, and her clothing stuck to her flesh in such a way she was reminded of school glue drying to the back of her hand as a child. Throwing open the door to the apartment complex, she pushed past the residents in the foyer who were about to exit, and started to ascend the mountain of stairs, flight after flight. Up, up, up. Double fisting the handrail on the stairwell, she propelled herself forward despite the atmosphere seeming to become thinner around her.

The clank of the door on the upper level being slammed open caught her attention. Followed soon after by the shrieks of residents as they were pushed out of the way by the track and field star she was currently hunting down. 

“Nik… bastard’s heading up.” Straining out a wheeze as she continued her pursuit, her cheeks puffed out as she exhaled. “Think he’s going for the roof.”

She slid round the corner of the stairwell, butting her way through the residents, making them scream for the second time as they were summarily shoved to the side by yet another person running as if they had the devil on their arse end. 

Rory lacked the time for niceties, there were no apologies given as her hand grabbed the handle just as it started to shut and flung the door open in time to see the runner turn the corner. He was so close now she could practically taste the brine of his sweat in the air – the stench of b.o. was one she could do without, however. Cartoon stink lines were hardly the bread crumbs she was looking for while on-foot, chasing down a target. 

Glancing back at her from over his shoulder, the runner’s brow furrowed. Reaching the end of the hall leading into the next row of suites, the flats of his palms met a wall, slamming on the brakes as he tried to halt himself. His head swung back and forth wildly, scrambling to decide the next route he’d take. Rather than heading for the next flight of stairs, as she assumed he would, he flew toward the open window at the end of the hall like a torpedo, swan diving out of it without a second thought. 

Reaching the window, she grabbed the frame to stop her own accidental quick descent and looked down, watching the target roll off the awning and land on a parked SUV below. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered. 

With a crack of her neck, Rory climbed up onto the window’s edge, gripping the walls the way she would the door before diving out of a plane, and jumped out. 

Wind roaring past her, her hair blew up and out of her face and the g-force fluttered her cheeks. Forcing her eyes to remain open, she fought the urge to close them as if facing that part of a nightmare where she was about to hit the ground and her imminent demise.

The nosedive ending as quickly as it began.

Ripping material prompted her to roll, barrelling off the awning, and her shoulder slammed down onto the vehicle before her back hit, punching all the air from her lungs. Winded, she sat there for a moment, gripping at her chest and groaning up at the sky, her breath escaping in a squeal like a rapidly deflating balloon.

The murmurs of a crowd beginning to form alerted her to begin moving again, the last thing she needed was more attention set in her direction. She slid down from the roof onto the bonnet and shambled off, hopping with a limp as she pushed herself to move forward. Each inhale was a sharp hiss between gritted teeth, rubbing at her shoulder as she bent and stretched her back. 

“Christ almighty,” she grunted, moving stiffly. “Going to need a bloody stiff drink after this, and a year’s supply of Tylenol.”

“First round’s on me, Sinclair,” Nik’s voice buzzed in her ear. 

“You’re a gentleman and a scholar, Nikolai.” Rory smirked and carried on, her entire body wailing in protest.

tagging (no pressure): @carlosoliveiraa @strangefable @cassietrn @finding-comfort-in-rain @cloudofbutterflies92

@tommyarashikage @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather @la-grosse-patate @chadillacboseman

@efingart @alypink @roofgeese @harmonyowl @g0dspeeed

@simplegenius042 @voidika @neonshrike @direwombat @statichvm

@clicheantagonist @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @raresvtm @justasmolbard

@writeforfandoms @imagoddamnonionmason

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

contents: fluff. established relationship. found family. megumi takes up baking and it takes you back to your teenage years when a certain white-haired someone pined for you. 1.4k wc.

Nine year old Megumi has a crush on someone. You were pleasantly surprised when he asked you to take him to the grocery store to pick up some ingredients, and you inquired if there was a special occasion or a school cooking project as you both walked along the aisle and collected the items on his list that he prepared beforehand.

Your heart melts when you learn that he was planning to gift the pretty girl in his class something homemade, and he decided on butter cookies because she mentioned in passing that it was one of her favorite snacks. You think it’s incredibly sweet that Megumi came up with the idea himself, and even more so that he wanted to set aside a weekend to create something completely from scratch with his own two hands when purchasing a square tin would’ve been much easier.

It certainly reminds you of an insufferable yet equally lovable sorcerer that’s way too tall for his own good with too bright blue eyes that make you forget everything around you if you stare into them a little too long. When you both were just two young teenagers pining after each other and he showed up with a white pastry box hidden behind his back on a summer day, with the strawberries in season and nurtured and harvested to perfection. You smile at the pleasant memory before forcing yourself back to reality.

When you are getting ready to pay for the things you and Megumi placed on the conveyor belt, he stops you and pulls out his Digimon wallet (courtesy of Gojo’s taste in presents) and explains he wants to purchase it with his own savings and be able to say that this gift is entirely by him without receiving any help from others.

You almost had to hold back a tear because when did this boy become so sweet? You suppose he always was this sweet and thoughtful, it just took a bit of time and some trust for him to fully warm up to you and Gojo despite the circumstances with his family and almost being sold off like a pawn to the Zenin clan. And now he has a home where him and his sister could feel like they belong and be surrounded with people that he could depend on because at the end of the day Megumi is just a boy much too young to be growing up too fast.

You announce your return home to Gojo and Tsumiki with the soft thud of the grocery bags being placed on the kitchen counter, and Megumi scurries into his bedroom to fetch the printed recipe he tucked away in a drawer. You carefully take out each item from the bags to place on the surface for him to get started, and white tufts of hair come into your peripherals and Gojo greets you with a cheeky grin.

“Angel, you’re back.” His hand falls on your hip and he softly pecks your lips when you turn your head toward him. He does a quick scan of the contents in front of you, and he decides you must be some kind of mind reader or his telepathic messages have finally reached you after several days now. “Aw baby~ Don’t tell me you’re baking something for me? How did you know I was craving—”

“Not me.” You shake your head and cut him off promptly. “Megumi.” And at the mention of his name, the young raven-haired boy enters the kitchen with a loose paper in his grip. You offer him a polite smile before addressing that everything he needs is on the counter and point to where the baking equipment are, and if he has any questions or concerns then you’ll be in the next room with Gojo as you drag your boyfriend by the arm to give Megumi his privacy.

“You see, Satoru, our Megumi here has a crush on someone. And he’s taken it upon himself to bake her cookies!” You say just above a whisper, a proud smile lining your lips and Gojo arches a curious brow. You catch a peek between the threshold that separates the kitchen and sitting area with Gojo looming behind you and find Megumi checking off the ingredients and looking over the instructions. He’s being thorough, that’s a good start.

“Megumi, eh? You know, I’m a little surprised he’s crushing at all. He’s quite the serious kid.”

You huff at him softly. “Well, serious or not, I think everyone is allowed to have crushes. Besides, doesn’t this remind you of something? Like that time you baked me a strawberry shortcake because strawberries were my favorite?” You look back up at him, and in your gaze there was always a sort of sweet and dreamy expression that never fails to make his heart swell three times too big.

“Ah.” Gojo chuckles, and his mind drifts back to the fond memories of his own youth, when he too used to try his hand at baking sweets in the hopes of impressing you. He remembered how long it took and how many attempts he made since he had no prior experience. There was a lot of flour and eggshells, and maybe he did set the oven on fire… but the moment he saw your face light up with your beautiful smile it was worth all the trouble and the mess. “That was the cake that changed it all for us, huh?” His arms move to your waist and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You nod and hum affectionately, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck though with his height he had to bend down slightly. “That’s one way to put it. But as much as I appreciate the sweet gesture, I am so glad you left the baking to me since then.”

“You’re still teasing me about that to this day?” He playfully nips the sensitive spot on your neck causing you to giggle and lightly shove him away. “But hey, I never claimed to be a master chef. A little bird told me that maybe a homemade cake from me would be the thing to win your heart.”

“Well, I hope you know it was more than the cake that won my heart.”

“Yeah, I know it was my good looks and charm, you can’t get enough of me.” Gojo teases, peppering kisses over your shoulders and neck before pulling back just enough so his smirk comes into your view. “Enlighten me then. Since I still don’t have a clue why an Angel like you fell for a great catch such like myself.”

You playfully roll your eyes at his jokes, and you mull it over for a long moment to purposely keep him in anticipation. There are so many reasons that made you love Satoru Gojo back then, and every day you find new things to love about him. But for now the two qualities that come to mind should suffice for an answer. “Maybe it’s because I found you funny. And cute sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Cute most times, I think.” Gojo quips, and he gently pinches your cheeks. “And of course, my sense of humor is legendary. Who else can make you laugh like I do, hmm?”

“Alright, I think that’s enough flattery for you in one day. Any more and I’m afraid your enormous ego might burst.” There’s a teasing lilt in your voice, and suddenly the air around you feels sweeter as Gojo brings you closer to him and kisses your cheeks before resting his forehead against yours.

“But you know I love you, right?” He says in a much softer tone. “I might tease you a lot and act like an idiot sometimes, but I do appreciate you still being here with me through it all. Without you, I don’t want to imagine what my life would be like without you. You make me a better person, you know that?” He tenderly cradles the side of your face and gazes lovingly into your eyes before there’s a flash of his dimples and a boyish giggle. “And the fact you think I’m cute is icing on the cake. Pun intended.”

You groan softly but the laughter that came shortly after is one of genuine affection. “I'm gonna go check on Megumi.” Before you turn on your heel, you plant a big smooch on his cheek then you’re gone the next second. He stands there, grinning from ear to ear as he rubs the spot you kissed like he still was (and he still is) the lovesick boy just a few years back.

꒰ note ᰔ the idea where megumi takes after gojo in some ways really squeezes my heart and that’s what inspired this little piece. ꒱

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Hide & Seek.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part two here!

Summary: The night with your boyfriend is going perfectly, and you couldn't be happier, until he receives an unexpected call telling him that information about an important case has been leaked to the press, and many doubts about you appear.

Words: 2,5k.

TW: mentions of crime and trauma (normal warnings in the serie). established relationship. angst without a happy ending. mistrust and lack of communication. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Again I apologize in advance for this, but I love exploring Spencer's character and his changes. It's so funny to know that the one from the first seasons would never do this but I love him anyway.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Your smile couldn't have been bigger at that moment.

After several weeks of work and no time to see your boyfriend or send him more than two text messages, you finally find yourself humming cheesy love songs next to him and hugging him whenever you want. You had only been in his apartment for a few hours after the universe and all the stars had aligned so that neither of you had to work that night and you could have your long-awaited quality time together. It was certainly much needed for both of you and could be a bit of a celebration for finally getting a raise.

The sweet smell of the candles you both had placed on the table mixed with the ingredients on the countertop, creating a much more homey atmosphere. After much thought, the two of you had decided to make some homemade cookies with different fruits to eat yourselves and give some to your friends. You had always loved baking, especially when it came to desserts, and being able to do it with Spencer was even better. Although you knew he was only doing it to make you happy because he was pretty clumsy in the kitchen.

“I think you have some flour here, sweetheart.” You could feel him running his finger over your face, laughing as he smudged you, then stepping back a little to look proudly at his handiwork. “You look so cute.”

“Really? You want to play, Dr. Reid?”

You raised an eyebrow and gave him a menacing look, and made a quick move to smear some flour on him and get on the same terms. But you barely managed to mess him up a bit when he gently grabbed your wrists and planted a kiss on your lips, pushing any thoughts of revenge from your mind.

“You cheated, it's not fair.” You murmured against his lips as you both pulled away from the kiss.

“I didn't do anything.” He replied in an innocent tone, kissing you briefly before pulling away to feed the cat. “I think this kid has been eating cookie dough because he doesn't want to eat his food.”

“He's an unruly kitten, just like his daddy.” You said as you watched Spencer pet him and laugh at your bad joke.

The two of you had officially been together for almost a year, but you had known each other for much longer. A coffee shop tucked away in the middle of town was the best place for an FBI agent and you, a news reporter, to meet and start talking. From the beginning, you knew there was something different about Spencer, and it was much more than the fact that he was the only man in the country who didn't know you because he didn't watch television and therefore the news you had anchored for years. He didn't care that your face was what people saw every day and that put you in the spotlight, he liked you for who you were and how you thought about the world.

“I think they'll be ready in a few minutes.” You reported after putting a tray of cookies in the oven.

You were about to ask your boyfriend where he kept the dishes, but when you turned around, you noticed he was still playing with the cat and you couldn't help but smile at how relaxed he seemed. It had been a good idea to convince him to adopt the animal that always followed you home and peeked out of the fire escape. Nothing made you happier than seeing him happy, so you followed your instincts and noticed that the kitchen was still organized as usual. You may not have lived with Spencer yet, but you spent more time in his apartment than yours and had already memorized how a couple of things worked, though you were afraid to tell him because you knew he had trouble opening up too much and taking such big steps in a relationship so quickly.

All your attention was on picking out the prettiest plates and pots for the cookies when his phone rang over the counter. Your hands were still dirty with flour and dough, so you didn't hand it to him and could only read that it was Penelope before you saw him answer.

“Yes, I'm with her now. We're making cookies, and yes, I'll bring you some. Yes, she says hello to you too.” You listened as Spencer repeated into the phone with an encouraging tone.

You barely listened to his conversation because you were nervous it was about work and that he would have to leave so soon.

“You're out of milk, I'm going to the supermarket downstairs.” You informed him quietly after checking the fridge, not wanting to interrupt his conversation. “I won't be long.” You finished, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before leaving.

He couldn't help but smile like a fool at the kiss and stopped listening to his friend's voice on the other end of the phone for several seconds.

“The full profile was leaked to the press, along with details about the crime scenes.” Garcia's voice brought her feet back to the ground.

“What? How?” He asked blankly, needing to sit down to process the information. “We were very careful.”

Spencer thought the case was already closed, he had filled out the profile himself, they had everything they needed to make the arrest, and Emily had insisted on giving him the night off for it.

“We don't know, but it was on the evening news.”

Wait, the evening news? They were the ones you presented every day. It was strange that you hadn't mentioned it, since you'd just come home from work a few hours earlier, happy about your raise.

“Which channel was the first? Who gave the scoop?” His voice trembled slightly, as if he was a little afraid of the answer because his mind was telling him something he didn't like.

There was a long silence for a few seconds and his anxiety increased.

“You need to calm down and not jump to conclusions.” Penelope tried to be the voice of reason at the time and sugarcoated things a bit. But he insisted that he wanted to know. “She said so...she broke the news a few hours ago and I think that was the first network to do it.”

His whole world seemed to crumble before his eyes again and everything was a blur amidst the feeling of betrayal and bitterness that gripped his body. Every thread in his mind began to connect in just a few seconds, and for the first time in a long time, he hated having that ability.

“Reid, listen, I don't think it was her. Emily said we'd fix it, but you should know before you watch the news.” She tried to defuse the situation, but his words only made them feel more betrayed. “I forgot to tell you before because I didn't want to ruin anything, you looked so happy.”

Since meeting you, Spencer had watched at least a minute of the evening news every day just to see you, and everyone knew it. Only today he hadn't because he'd been busy trying to finish the damn profile so he could get off early and spend some time with you.

“We don't want you to jump to conclusions, we all know her and I don't think she would do this. Maybe it's a mix-up or...”

“Don't do that, don't try to make me feel better when she's the only one I tell about the cases.”

And about absolutely everything. He always talked to you about his dreams, his deepest fears, his hopes for the future, his worst moments, and even things he never thought to say out loud, even to his therapist. All his life he had felt silenced until you showed up to listen to even the most complex thought and his mental discussion of possible names for the cat you both shared and treated like a son.

Since his release from prison, his view of the world and himself had changed. He no longer felt worthy of love or anything good until you came along and insisted on entering his heart and saving him from the emptiness he faced every time he woke up in that dark, lonely apartment that you came to fill with light and the smell of cookies.

It weighed heavily on his heart that the bad thoughts that always haunted him made sense.

“I'll be there soon.” He finished, not paying attention to the thousand and one possible explanations and theories Penelope had given him so as not to blame you for everything.

He ended the call and walked quickly to the bedroom to find your computer for answers. You had been staying with him for several days and always used it for work, so it was on the nightstand. He was about to turn it on when the sound of the front door startled him and let him know you were back.

“Spencer? Where are you? Do you want to play hide and seek?” Your voice echoed through the apartment, coming closer and closer to the room.

There was no movement or sound from him, just silence, until you entered the room and saw him sitting on the bed with your computer in his hands. You couldn't help but be a little startled by his expression.

“Are you okay, love? You scared me.” You spoke as you approached him and took his hand lovingly. “Do you need to use my computer? It's out of battery, but the charger is in my bag.”

The strange thing was that Spencer didn't return your affectionate squeeze, he didn't even kiss your hand like he always did. He just froze in place and looked at you as if he was waiting for you to confess to a crime.

“Is something wrong?” You sat down in front of him and grabbed his chin to force him to look at you.

He looked at you for a few seconds and clenched his jaw, pulling away from your touch as if it burned him. “You tell me.”

Confusion washed over you and you bit your lip, trying to think of something that could have changed everything so suddenly. For a second you thought that maybe something had happened at Spencer's work and he had to go now, but his expression and his teary eyes said much more than that. Something serious had happened, you even thought it might be his mother and your heart shrank.

“I know what you did.”

You frowned at his words, trying to find some trace of a joke in all this. “What have I done?”

Once again, the room was filled with silence and his piercing gaze. You made a feeble attempt to approach him to give him some comfort as he looked like he was about to cry, but he rejected you and moved further away from you. He got up from the bed, put the computer down and looked at you as if he expected you to be the one to give the explanation.

“I don't understand this, baby. I really don't know.” You got out of bed and tried to get closer to him.

At your action, he backed away from you.

“Don't call me 'baby'. Don't pretend you don't know what you've done.”

The problem was, you didn't know what you'd done to give him that attitude. It had only been a few minutes since you left and everything was fine, so it didn't make sense that he was suddenly angry.

“I should have seen it coming before, how could I not, why would someone like you notice me? You obviously wanted this, you wanted to use me to get that raise and have all the fresh information.” Finally he seemed to react and started to blurt out everything that was on his mind without any filter. “I was an idiot to think you loved me.”

The confusion in your bright eyes only made things worse for him. His defense mechanism told him that you were an actress, that you must have known him well enough to manipulate him for so long and not even flinch. It made all the sense in the world that the whole perfect relationship you had was a sham, because he never understood how you, who had the fame and beauty to be with any man in the world, could have chosen him, a former addict who had spent months in jail and had more trauma than happy memories, to be your partner.

You took a step toward him, trying to process what he had just said. “I do, you know I love you.”

“Come on, you don't have to pretend anymore, I already know that you leaked the information I gave you about the profile.” He said after pacing the room a few times, trying to control his anger. “And maybe how many times you did the same.”

“Wait, you think I'm some kind of spy or something...you're joking, right?” You tried to make sense of his words, wanting to believe again that it was a joke. It had to be, or the pain you felt in your heart at his rejection would definitely kill you.

The silence that followed his words was enough to know that he was serious.

“You're the only person outside the team I talk to about cases all the time. And you magically get a raise when there's a big leak.” His every word was like a knife in your heart, digging deeper and deeper. “You even broke the news a few hours ago, you're unbelievable.”

That was too much, and it was the move that pierced your heart with the knife.

“Do you really think the only way I can get a raise is to betray you? That I've been pretending for almost a year that I love you for my own benefit? Do you really think I can stoop so low and that my job is worth so little?” You asked him almost pleadingly, as if begging him to tell you no, but in vain. “Tell me it's not so, please. Tell me you don't distrust me.”

Silence. Lots of silence.

“Please...”

He said nothing again and that was answer enough for you. You loved Spencer Reid like you'd never loved anyone before, but you weren't going to let this go. You weren't going to keep begging him to believe you when you told the truth and never gave him reason to doubt.

“Fine. I hope you don't have to come back to me when you realize you made a mistake and ended up with the best you had.”

The pained look you gave him and the tears streaming down your cheeks stayed in his mind as you left your apartment keys on the table and walked away, closing the door behind you at the same time as the oven beeped.

His smile could not have been more nonexistent at that moment.

[withwritersblock]

More Hearts Than Mine -Meeting His Family

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~ Author's Note: I forgot that Jack didn't play this game lowkey so pretend Jack is playing <3 Also I don't really like this one as much as the other one but it's still cute Summary: Y/N meets Luke's family for the first time Warning: cursing? maybe lowkey forgot Word Count: 3,128 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

It was several hours before the game even started and she was standing in the bathroom finishing up the final touches of her makeup as her heart was beginning to pound. Today was a huge day for his family. It was the second time in their careers where the Hughes brothers would be playing together. Sure, it was a big deal when Jack and Quinn did it before but now that Luke was officially on the team it's become even more exciting.

It had happened once already in Vancouver. But since this was going to be the last time this season it would occur. His parents flew out to Jersey to experience it. Which meant she would be meeting his parents and Quinn for the first time. 

Him meeting her family was a little different as her family was normal. His family was an empire. Sure, the few times they’ve briefly met on FaceTime went well. But it was completely different where she would be left alone with his parents for the entirety of the game. 

Luke was left alone for a maximum four minutes with her family the entire three days he was there visiting. Obviously there were different circumstances but it was scary. They were planning on getting a late lunch before the game started to see each other since Quinn had to leave early the next day. She delicately tapped her finger against the underbags of her eyes trying to see if the product will stay. Luke peeked his head through the bedroom door, his hair still messily laid across his forehead. 

“Hey beautiful,” he muttered as a small smile spread across his lips. She rolled her eyes as she fought off a smile forming on her lips. “We’re going to meet them at my place first and walk from there,” he explained as he leaned his body against the door frame. All she could muster up was a nod. “Baby, it’s going to be fine,” he whined out as he walked towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“Was that helpful when I said that to you last week?” she asked, her head tilting to the side. He clenched his jaw as he fought the giggle leaving his throat. “Would they be weirded out if I wore your jersey to the game?” she asked, her eyes forming a puppy dog look.

“Oh my god, please wear it,” he muttered as he delicately pressed his lips to her cheek. “My dad was trying to figure out if he was going to wear mine or Jack’s, so if you wear mine the decisions already made,” 

She squinted her eyes as she looked towards him through the mirror, “So your mom just was planning on wearing Quinn’s?” she asked a small chuckle leaving her lips. 

“She wore Jack’s last time,” he said in a shrug. Y/N began pulling away from him walking towards her dresser to add some jewelry to her outfit. 

“Remind me to stop after we have two kids, I can’t handle all that,” she said nonchalantly. She froze for a moment waiting to see if Luke would comment on it.

He simply smiled and said, “Well what if we have a kid that likes theatre and not sports?”

“Well, then I’ll consider having another one,” she mumbled, avoiding his eye as she struggled putting on the necklace. Luke walked towards her, taking note of her struggling. She pulled her hair away from her neck as he also struggled to get the necklace on. But she didn’t mind, she liked him being that close. 

“So you want at least two kids?” he questioned as he finally settled the necklace. She spun around and met his gaze shyly.

“I’m sorry I said that, it’s too early-”

“No it's not,” he said as he rested his hand on her cheek, “It’s good we talk about those things now,” he let out before he delicataely pressed his lips to hers for a brief moment. “So, two kids?” 

“Three,” she let out with a smile. He nodded as they started walking out of her bedroom.

“Three’s a good number, we know that very well,” he said as he chuckled slightly. 

“How many kids do you want?” she asked him as she watched him grab his keys from the kitchen countertop. He shrugged.

“However many you and your uterus decide,” he said in a teasing tone as he checked his phone. She barked out a laugh. “Come on, Jack’s getting hangry,” he mumbled as he took a hold of her hand guiding through her apartment building.

~

They stopped just outside of his apartment door, when he started to turn the door knob, “Wait,” she mumbled. He shifted his gaze towards her bright eyes. She was taking unsteady breaths, “What if they hate me?” she asked barely above a whisper. His eyes widened as he shook his head. “I mean, I’m the first girl you’ve brought home, what if-” he shut her up by taking a hold of her cheeks and kissing her. She felt her body relax as he kissed her. “Huh, that really does work,” she mumbled as she pulled away.

He nodded his head, “Like magic,” he said with a dramatic wink before he pushed the door open. He rested his hand onto her lowerback as he guided her into the apartment. 

“Fucking finally, I’m starving. Can we go?” Jack said as he jumped up from his sitting position on the couch. Luke rolled his eyes as he kept his hand on her lowerback as they walked past the kitchen. His parents stood up from the couch with wide grins on their lips. Quinn remained on the couch, shyly watching his youngest brother show off his girlfriend. 

“Jack, it’s not about you, remember?” his father jokes. Jack huffed as he sat down back where he was sitting before. 

“I told you guys, she’s cool. Do we really need to do this whole thing?” Jack muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. Y/N smiled softly as she scanned the apartment.

“Yes, we see a new girlfriend of yours like every two months. Y/N must be pretty special if Lukey wants to bring her home,” Ellen said as she walked towards Luke giving him a big hug before she walked towards Y/N to give her one as well. “Oh, you smell lovely,” 

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled, unsure of how to react to the land of royalty she was in. She was being dramatic but now she feels guilty for giving Luke so much grief of him being afraid to meet her family. His father walked towards the pair giving Luke a huge hug before he walked towards Y/N giving her a brief hug. 

“How was your morning?” Ellen asked Y/N and she took a hesitant breath. The quick conversation she had with Luke regarding the possibility of kids popped in her mind. She wasn’t going to say that.

“It was good! We stopped and got coffee in the coffee shop in my apartment building before we got ready to come over here.” she replied with a smile on her lips. 

“Oh what’s your drink?” Ellen asked as Luke wandered towards the center of the living room to see Quinn eyeing Y/N and his parents. 

Quinn would never admit it but he was overly protective over Luke. He was the definition of the older brother role to a T. “You gonna stop being an ass and meet my girlfriend?” Luke asked teasingly as he kicked his leg against Quinn’s shin. Luke turned his head around to see Y/N talking happily with his parents. His heart fluttered slightly at the sight. 

“Was starting to think you didn’t know what a girlfriend was,” Quinn chirped as he stood up from the couch to wander towards his parents and Y/N. 

Luke smiled half heartily as he wanted towards the group as well. He quickly planted himself beside her, looping his arm around her waist. She was tense and nervous and feeling his arm around her body calmed her down.

“I’m Quinn,” he let out as he reached his hand out, she responded by shaking his hand. “Luke says your brother plays hockey?” he asked. She nodded dramatically. 

“Yeah, he’s a goalie,” she mumbles. Quinn nods before Jack lets out another loud dramatic groan. 

“We should probably feed him,” Ellen mumbles as she awkwardly bumped her arm against Y/N. 

“Thank you, my God,” he groaned as he stood up from the couch, heading straight towards the front door. 

His family exited the apartment, practically in a line with Luke and Y/N hanging in the back as he hand did soothing circles across her lower back. “Are you doing okay?” he whispered as they were in their own bubble as his family were joking together a few feet ahead of them. 

“Pretty sure I can’t breathe, but I’m okay,” she let out as they walked closer to his family to get engaged in the conversation. He rolled his eyes playfully as they walked towards the restaurant that was only two street lights away. 

“When did you move to the city?” his mom asked her as they continued down the street towards the restaurant.

“I moved here when I was eighteen, I’m studying to be a secondary teacher,” she explained. 

“Any specific speciality?” his dad asked. 

“I think I want to do more math or sciences, I haven’t really decided which side I want to go yet,” 

They walk into the hole-in-the-wall rustic restaurant in a huge group, Quinn already called ahead to reserve a large booth for them to eat at. It was a typical pub place, some limited things on what the boys could eat before the game but it was close. The hosts guided them to the back corner of the restaurant where there were corner booths that could hold up to eight people. 

Luke guided her into the booth so she would sit between him and Jack, the two people she was comfortable with. Quinn scooted in beside Luke, allowing his parents to sit beside Jack. Luke quickly began running his hand up and down her thigh trying to calm her down. 

“This place is cute, do you guys come here often?” Ellen looked between the three of them. 

“If we win, we usually get dinner here,” Jack said as he flipped the menu open.

“Y/N and I’ve come here a few times for lunch,” Luke said as he smiled towards his mom. She smiled softly towards her youngest as she dropped her gaze towards her menu.

“What do you usually get, Y/N?” his dad asked. 

~~~

She stood in Luke’s bathroom as she adjusted her makeup from earlier in the day. Luke stood beside her as he contemplated on wearing a hat with his dark blue checkered suit he was wearing. He leaned behind Y/N and threw the hat through the doorway to land on his bed. He sighed as he turned on the faucet to get his hair slightly wet. 

“You okay?” she asked as he took in a sharp breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed, avoiding her gaze.

“Hate playing against Quinn,” he mumbled as he then begna to take a hold of some gel to run through his hair.

“You guys will do great,” she reassured as she dropped her mascara back into her makeup back. She took a small step towards him as she delicately rested her hand onto the center of his back as she ran reassuring circles. 

“He’s fucking rockin’ right now-”

“So are you,” she muttered as she pressed her lips against his shoulder as she met his gaze in the mirror. He smiled softly as he saw his mom lurking beside the door, his cheeks flushing red. Y/N pulled away from him as she began fixing her hair slightly.

“Mom,” he let out breathily as he shook his head. She smiled awkwardly as she chuckled nervously. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you two,” she said as she raised her eyebrows excitedly, “There’s a lot of family and friends that decided to come to the game. Suite’s going to be a bit more crowded than I thought. Just wanted to give you and Y/N a heads up,” she said as she tapped her hand against the door frame before she walked out of his bedroom. Y/N’s eyes widened as she shifted her body towards Luke. His own eyes went wide.

“It’ll be fine!” he offered as he quickly wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her closely to his. 

“Lukey! If you are not ready in five, I’m leaving without you!” Jack shouted from the living room. Luke pulled away as he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers urgently. She responded by running her hand along the base of his neck.

“That’s a handy new trick,” he mumbled against her lips before he pulled away from her and looked back at his own reflection. His entire body relaxed as he took a deep breath. “It’ll be okay, it’ll be fine,” he let out trying to convince himself and Y/N. He quickly kissed her cheek, “Bye, my love, I’ll see you after the game,” he said, meeting her gaze before he walked out of the bathroom. She smiled towards him before looking back into her own reflection.

She was prepared to spend hours alone with his parents but multiple family members, extended family he rarely even sees. It was terrifying. 

As she was applying lip gloss, his mom entered the bathroom again. A nervous smile on her lips. “Luke said you were gorgeous but you are even more pretty in person,” she said as she looked into Y/N’s eyes through the mirror. 

Y/N’s heart hit hard against her chest as she tilted her head to the side. “That’s really sweet, thank you,” she mumbled as she brushed her hair away from her face. 

“Does he treat you well?” she asked.

Y/N turned her gaze towards his mom and smiled softly. “He’s a gentleman and kind and he makes me laugh. I’m not saying this just to say it when he genuinely makes me a happier person,” she explained, her voice cracking up slightly as she spoke. 

“After every game he brings me a singular rose to add to my vase in the kitchen. Even on road trips, he’ll bring back a few roses. I’m not even sure how he gets them, we travel to the arena together a lot and somehow after he leaves the locker room he has a rose in his hand!” she said chuckling, Ellen began laughing too, “I’m sure he gets one of the interns to get it for him or he has a secret stash in the locker room. I have no idea.”

Ellen pulled her into a hug as she sniffled slightly, “Had no idea he was such a romantic.”

~~~

The game ended in a disappointing loss for the Devils but it hurts a little less only because it was Quinn’s team. Luke’s parents and Y/N were waiting for Luke and Jack to leave the locker room when Quinn jogged towards the three of them. 

He hugged his parents, “I’m glad you guys were here,” he said as he pulled away. He walked towards Y/N giving her a hug as well. She hesitantly returned the hug as this was the first time Quinn truly acknowledged Y/N’s presence, “He’s smitten over you,” he whispered against her hair before he pulled away. She felt her cheeks heat up at the sentiment. 

“Good game, son,” Jim muttered as he slapped his hand against Quinn’s arm. Quinn smiled before he dropped his gaze.

“We’re flying out soon, I wanted to say goodbye before I bolted out of here,” he muttered before he hugged his parents again. Y/N tuned out the conversation as she watched a few of the Devil’s players leave the locker room. It was usual for Jack and Luke to emerge later in the crowd especially after a loss. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N!” he shouted as he jogged back towards the away team locker room. 

After a few more minutes Jack and Luke began walking out of the locker room in the same suits they wore heading into the game. Luke walked out holding out a singular rose with a blush spread across his cheeks.

“You weren’t kidding,” Ellen let out as Luke continued towards Y/N. She glanced towards his mom before she walked towards him.

She gladly took a hold of the rose as she gave him a hug, “I’m sorry about the game,” she mumbled as she pulled away. He shrugged before he pressed his lips to the side of her head before he walked over and met up with Jack and his parents.

“They’re disgusting,” Jack muttered as they continued towards the parking garage, Jim and Ellen laughed as they gave Luke a quick hug before they walked towards their cars.

~~~

She had stepped out of the shower, running her fingers through her hair as she started to walk towards the living room when she overheard Luke talking in his living room.

“You like her?” he asked his mom.

“Luke, she seems perfect for you. She’s a little shy like you but she makes you happy, right?” Ellen offered. Y/N smiled to herself, feeling her heart swell. 

“You have no idea, Mom,” he let out with a huff of air. 

Y/N walked away from the door towards the bed as she slowly laid down onto the mattress, she smiled to herself.

After another ten minutes, Luke snuck into the bedroom, a hoodie covering his body with a pair of black sweatpants. He shut the door delicately behind him, standing by the door he stared towards her with such admiration. She met his eye as she watched him pull his lips between his teeth.

“What?” she asked softly as he shook his head. He excitedly jumped onto the bed, she erupted in giggles as he submerged her body beneath his. “What are you doing?” she asked as he rested his head onto her chest. He slowly ran his hand up and down her side.

“I just feel like I haven’t seen you,” he muttered as he delicately pressed his lips against her exposed collarbone. Her hands slowly ran through his curls that were damp from the shower he took earlier after the game. “I miss being alone with you,” he muttered as he shut his eyes. She hummed as she delicately pressed her lips against his forehead.

[n0tamused]

dottore having to dispose of a faulty clone (maybe bc they were threatening reader) and then handfeeding reader parts of it like cannibalism as a metaphor for love…. do we see the vision or is this a little too 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 💔💔

A/n: pookie you're all good, thank you for feeding my brain worms with this idea I'm sending you smooches. I do hope I executed this well. I had a lot in my head that I wanted to write for this but I didn't want this to turn into a word scramble so here's this. Enjoy <3

Content: Dottore x GN reader, dark content(?), a bit yandere, implied unhealthy relationship, implied cannibalism, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, idk what else to tag as I never posted something like this so if anything else needs tagging feel free to lemme know

Words: 735

Several candles lined the polished oak table, its surface smooth and almost sticky, the light rippling over the dark lines of the carvings on top like little light bugs chasing one another. The golden hues danced over the plates as well, but the dim light scarcely allowed for a good look at the dishes.

The fork extending forward to your lips was the only thing that held your attention long enough to be observed, taken in fully, lips closing around the bit of meat and vegetables. The juice and oil fills your mouth, sinking past your teeth and around your gums, the taste is rich yet stale all at once. You couldn’t comment on it, you didn't know what to say about it. Not with the Doctor sitting at your side and being the one to feed you so, so gently.

It's hard to remember when was the last time he looked so gentle, kind even, perhaps when he was lighting up the candles with such care, as if his own breath would blow the flames into a blaze, allowing you to see your plate in full.

The meat was well done, seasoned to your liking, and something told you it was Dottore’s own hand who prepared it, gave it his all to make it so perfect for consumption. Parts of him were laced through every sensation, every smell and every bite. Your own plate is set before him and he's cutting all your bites, spearing pieces of meat and salad onto the fork before feeding it to you, making sure you ate well.

The dull ache in your arms is brought back into memory as you languidly chew on a bite, and your fingers absentmindedly touch over your sleeves over where the bruises lay, feeling the ache grow.

“Do they still hurt you?” His voice called out amidst smoky smells and brown fog, calling you to the present. “Have you gotten any rest at all, my dear?” He added, his head tilting in your direction, his bird-like mask not allowing you for a glimpse of his ruby eyes, but from underneath you can see glimpses of the scars peeking through, teasing your eyes. For some reason he chose to wear it here, now, only puzzling you further. 

“No.. no.. they're fine… I’ll get some rest later tonight, sir..” you reply as you swallow and watch how he grimaced at the title, and you nearly cough from how big this bite was, but you would have taken a bigger bite had Dottore allowed you to feast yourself. Perhaps not, but you told yourself you would. Be it the rich taste or some other factor, you yearned to take up each bone from the meat and lick it clean, sucking out the marrow from within and letting it melt into your guts.

Would he be satisfied then?

Would you be?

The candles flicker. He's still looking at you

“Are you still afraid? I've already told you so, and explained it many times. You have nothing to fear here. This was just an error in the system which will not ever happen again.. and you shouldn't have been around to witness it, anyhow..”. You have to wonder how he can say all this with so little fear. Then again, the clone was his creation. He knew it inside and out, every crevice and every wire.

“I understand.. it's just that.. I'd rather not face the others now..not after that..” 

Truth be told, having him around was also slightly unnerving, as he wore nearly an identical face as the one that harmed you. They were the same, but also not. He was gentle, but he was not.

The one that hurt you was long disposed of and would never harm you again, but Dottore was once the one that hurt you, and now he has poured himself out before you, all for your pleasure and the sweet poison of safety and love.

He hopes to convey it to you through each meticulously put bite, every sip he graces your lips with. He had cut himself open for you and would do so again, just as he hurt you through that error. It came as easy as drinking and breathing. 

“That’s understandable. I assure you are safe, and however dark the night may get - I'll be there with you… But for now, you must eat, not fear. Open wide..”

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[writing-for-life]

Sandman Sneak Peek Analysis

There is Brief Lives in this, but you’ll miss it if you blink…

Is everyone recovering? 🤣

So we obviously got our fill of thirst traps, but I wanted to analyse the sneak peek (click to watch) a bit more closely.

Many people were commenting they only see Season of Mists and Song of Orpheus in the clip, but I don’t think that’s true. We obviously don’t know what exactly they did to the arcs and what might have changed, but I still predict that the first batch will be Season of Mists and Brief Lives (with other stuff thrown in, I wrote about it here). [I think we also saw a clip from Thermidor in the sneak peek, and that Lady Johanna Constantine was in it, but that just as an aside.]

So let’s start with stills I think are definitely from

Brief Lives

I honestly think it’s this (they’re lighting his face from below for a campfire effect, there are candles etc):

Edit 22/09:

We sleuthed a bit more across several platforms, and some clever people pointed out this:

These two frames appear in different places of the sneak peak, so we can’t know for certain if they are from the same scene. It is possible though. And if they are: He is wearing his ruby on the one to the left. It’s hard to tell if it’s the same thing to the right, but it could be? If so, that would mean this could be from Song of Orpheus instead of Brief Lives.

He does wear a clasp in Brief Lives all the way through, so that’s also possible, but again: If these shots are from the same scene, which it honestly looks like, I’m now leaning towards Song of Orpheus, and this particular scene (there’s a fire there, too):

Plus, if you zoom in and squint really hard, he seems to be wearing something on his shoulder here, too:

What else?

We see Despair’s Realm. But we don’t in Season of Mists. So this is either Brief Lives, or they give us a bit of Three Septembers and a January (which I’d love tbh, but I’m not going to hold my breath).

Next:

I think this could be Ruby’s/Wanda’s death/the fire. It’s really hard to see, but that could be Indya Moore sleeping? Let me know what you think…

Then this one:

I bet my bottom dollar this is Suffragette City and Ishtar’s dance. Now, the bottom panel is a tricky one because in the sneak peek, it’s actually right after the shot of (presumed) Wanda, so my initial response was it’s the fire. But the curtains look exactly the same as in the one with Ishtar’s dance, plus I think the glass is also in both shots. Which makes me think they either just put those scenes randomly together in the clip despite them being separate, OR that they changed the arc a bit and pulled Wanda/Ruby and Ishtar’s dance together. Either way, we’re definitely in Brief Lives I think.

Over to…

Season of Mists

I cackled like a lunatic when I saw this. IYKYK, but I somehow didn’t expect them to give us that one. Hurray (or not, depending on whether you like spiders I guess 🤣)

Angels looking modern…

Shame really, I wouldn’t have minded a more comics accurate look, but hey. Also: Is that your man Edward, @marlowe-zara ? Hard to tell from this angle, but I think it could be?

That’s also Andre Flynn in the background (also an Angel then).

Shivering Jemmy with the balloon! 🎈 If she doesn’t dump it on Dream, I’m gonna riot!

These ones with Lucienne are hard to place, and they could be anything, but they somehow give me stronger Season of Mists than Brief Lives vibes, although both is possible.

I have a hunch it’s this one:

Then there’s naturally all the obvious stuff (Cluracan, Susano-o-No-Mikoto, the family dinner etc etc), but I don’t think I have to get into those because they jump out at us straightaway.

More in the realm of

Casting

I think that might be Ella Rumpf as Eurydice, @tickldpnk8 What do you think?

This is definitely Wil Coban, but who he? Fae (the ears suggest so much)?

So what’s everyone thinking?

[starkwlkr]

Can I request Ruby getting her period for the first time and her mom's not at home so Charles has to take care of her? If you're comfortable writing it ofc

we’re all girls here | charles leclerc

I know not everyone woman has the same period story (this is a safe blog and if someone starts judging about PERIODS I WILL COME AFTER YOU)

also i changed it up a little because surprisingly i had another story like this in my drafts before it was requested 😭

Y/n decided that a trip to her home country would do her some good. She hadn’t been back home in a while so she missed everything about it from her family to the delicious food. She missed home. Charles knew how much she wanted to have a vacation so he bought plane tickets just for her so she could have a stress and kid free vacation back home. She loves her kids to death, but it seemed like everything she sat on the sofa to take a break, one kid always yelled for her and with Charles gone, she just had to get up.

There was a month break from the season so Charles was home with his son and daughter. Arthur and Lorenzo were coming over soon. Ruby mostly spent her time in her room reading or watching some movie. But not this time. She was on a FaceTime call with her friend, Cassie, who was talking about the latest rumor in school.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you this but Elliot West has a crush on you. I heard Elizabeth from Art class say that. But don’t tell anyone!”

“Elliot? I thought he had a crush on you?” Ruby asked, letting out a low groan as her stomach began to hurt. All day she had been feeling sick, but she didn’t tell Charles.

“No, he likes you. His friend likes me. I think.” Cassie said.

Suddenly Ruby got a sharp pain. She never experienced it before so instantly her mind started thinking of the worst possible ideas.

“Are you okay?” Cassie asked over the phone.

“I don’t know. Bye, I have to call my mom.” Ruby ended the call before Cassie could even say bye. She quickly called her mom, but right when she needed Y/n the most, she wasn’t home. Immediately the call went to voicemail no matter how many times Ruby called. Ruby threw her phone to the ground in frustration and got up from her bed.

She paced around the room, holding her stomach in pain. She didn’t have a fever or felt like throwing up so she was extremely confused on why she had stomach pains.

Since Ruby’s door was opened, Mathéo peeked inside just to ask why she was pacing.

“Get out! You’re so annoying! Dad!” Ruby yelled, pushing her brother out the door and slamming it shut.

“Hey! Don’t slam the door! Be nice to each other!” Charles yelled back from his spot on the sofa. His brothers had arrived and now they were watching a movie on the tv.

“You’re such a dad.” Arthur laughed.

“Just wait until you have kids.” Charles teased.

Mathéo strolled into the living room with his toy car in his hand. He look unfazed by his sister’s actions. “Ruby is being weird.” He told his papa and uncles. He walked to his uncle Arthur and hopped onto his lap.

“Why’s that, Théo?” Charles asked.

“She looks like she’s in pain and I asked why she was going in circles and she kicked me out then she slammed the door.” Mathéo explained.

“Is she sick?” Lorenzo asked Charles.

“No, she didn’t mention anything. I’ll be back.” Charles said as he got up and walked to Ruby’s room. He knocked on the door several times, but got no answer so he opened the door and saw clothes scattered all over her bedroom door.

“Papa?” Charles heard Ruby call out from her bathroom.

“Baby, what did you do to your room?” Charles walked to the bathroom door. “Théo said you were in pain. What’s hurting, Ruby Jules?”

“My stomach. But . . . Papa? There’s blood on my pants.” Charles instantly knew what she meant by that. Sure, he didn’t have any sisters, but he did have girl cousins and a wife that went through it each month. (Unless she was pregnant, which she was glad she didn’t have to buy pads during that time)

“Okay, um . . I- shit. Okay, don’t panic. You’re okay, baby, everything’s fine. I’ll be right back.” Charles didn’t think his baby girl would get her first period when Y/n wasn’t present. He wasn’t exactly prepared for the moment. He left Ruby’s room in a hurry. He needed to call the only person who knew about periods that was still in Monaco.

“Is she okay? Is she dying?” Mathéo asked, still on Arthur’s lap.

“No one is dying! No!” Charles frantically looked for his phone all over the sofa. “Where is my phone?!” Mathéo pointed at the cracked phone on the coffee table. “Thank you, Théo.”

The three Leclercs watched as Charles looked like he was about to pass out. Was Ruby actually sick? They needed to know.

“Maman! You need to come over right now. Please, Ruby needs you. No, she’s okay, but Y/n isn’t here and I don’t know how to explain to her that she’s going to bleed every month without freaking her out.”

Lorenzo and Arthur both understood now. Ruby Leclerc had gotten her first period.

“Ruby is bleeding? Is she dying?!” Théo asked his uncle.

“No! Your sister isn’t dying!”

After what seemed like forever, Pascale had arrived to her son’s house. Charles led her to the bathroom Ruby was in. Unknown to them both, the other three Leclerc boys followed them.

Pascale lightly knocked on the door. “Ruby, amour, it’s grand-mère.”

“Hi.” She heard Ruby say in a whisper like tone.

“Your maman isn’t here to teach you about what’s going on, but I’m here. Can you let me in?” Pascale asked.

“But . . .”

“Amour, we’re all girls here. I promise you this isn’t something to be embarrassed about.” Pascale assured the girl.

Suddenly Mathéo laughed. He looked up at his two uncles and pointed at them. “Grand-mère called you girls!”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “She said all of us so that means you too.”

Mathéo stopped laughing. “This isn’t funny.”

Pascale sighed. “Ruby darling, unlock the door. You and I have to talk.”

“Can they leave first?” Ruby asked. She referred to all the men in her room.

Charles understood that his daughter felt more comfortable with his mother at the moment so he took Mathéo in his arms and left along with Lorenzo and Arthur.

While Pascale was busy teaching Ruby about periods, Charles was able to talk with Y/n. He caught her up on everything.

“You do know where the pads are, right?” Y/n asked.

“Can’t she use yours?”

“I forgot to stock up before I left. I didn’t think she would start early.” Replied the worried mother.

“Okay, no problem. I know which ones you get so I just need to go to the store. Should I get chocolate? Where do you keep your heating pad?”

It was safe to say that whenever Ruby would start her period and her mother wasn’t around, she was in safe hands with Charles. He was always a sweetheart whenever Y/n was on hers, bringing her all her snacks and letting her stay in bed. Ruby had nothing to worry about.

[milliesfishes]

Hii! Do u think u could write something about maybe how in the second episode in season 1 billy and reader r together and she accidentally gets herself in the middle of him and antrims feuds and billy becomes very protective?

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓶𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭

Billy Antrim came to you like a rainstorm soaking a flower field.

His family had moved into town less than a year ago, a lovely mother, adorable little brother, a tired looking man and Billy. Your attention was piqued immediately by them. Plenty of new families moved to Silver City all the time, but there was something about this one...well, something about their oldest son...that kept your eye on them.

You merely watched from afar at first, eyeing them from the marketplace or the general store. It wasn't that you set out to see them, but they happened to be in town often at the same times you were.

But it wasn't until you met Mrs. Antrim that you started to get closer to them.

You were looking at a bolt of fabric, running your fingers along the material and debating making a new dress out of it when she appeared beside you. She was looking at another fabric, pinching it between her fingers. Noticing you, she smiled. "That's a lovely color." A lilted Irish accent made her words all the more charming to you. "It'll look fetching with your hair."

"Thank you," you smiled, looking over at the blue color she was examining. "Is that for you?"

"My son, Billy," she explained, holding up a bit of it and considering. "He needs a new shirt. He's had the old one for a long while."

"I see," you nodded, measuring out a stretch and handing the shopkeeper the money for it. "Do you live in town?"

"Yes," she smiled sweetly. "Just moved here a few weeks ago."

"Do you like it so far?" you questioned, folding up your cut.

"It's a far sight from some of the towns we've lived in," she laughed. "In the best way."

"I'm glad to hear it," you said, watching as she paid for her own fabric. "It'll be wonderful to have you here."

"Kathleen," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. You shook it nicely, telling her your name. She eyed you with a smile. "You're a sweetheart. I'll be happy to come across you again."

Indeed, every time you did after that she was. Kathleen always had a kind word for you, and you looked forward to seeing her. She was the first of the Antrims you met.

The second was Joe, whom you quickly grew fond of. He was with his mother one day in the market, and after that you'd slip him a sweet in passing every time you saw him. He was a sweet little boy who clearly loved his mother dearly.

Mr. Antrim was next, although you didn't exactly meet him. He came often to the bar you worked at, and you served him whiskey after whiskey almost every time you had a shift.

And then there was Billy. You'd heard Kathleen speak of him several times, but never come across him.

Until one day when you were out walking on a cloudy day as you often did, in a meadow close to town. Musing to yourself as you wandered, you were surprised by a raindrop hitting your nose. Looking up, you noted the dark grey color of the sky. Hopefully it wouldn't be too bad during the walk back.

But quickly your hopes were put to death when it began to pour, the rain soaking your skin and dress. You laughed, spinning once and holding your hands up to the sky.

A voice startled you out of your bliss, and you spun to see a man standing behind you with a concerned expression on his face. "You alright miss?"

Nodding in a bit of a daze from the shock, you realized who it was. The only member of the Antrim family you hadn't met.

You couldn't help but study him up close. So many times he'd been observed from far away, and your curiosity had gotten ahold of you this time. Billy was tall, on the leaner side but with broad shoulders. There was a gun belt slung around his hips, and a hat on his head, with dark brown curls peeking out. His shirt, you noticed with a modicum of satisfaction, matched the fabric Kathleen had been looking at awhile back.

"I'm okay," you assured him, pushing some of your wet hair out of your face. "I was just taking a walk and now..." you looked up at the sky then back at him. "I don't mind the rain."

This brought a little smile to his face, but he still moved closer to you. Now you could see the color of his eyes. Pure, deep blue, like the sky on a cloudless day. He was less than a foot away from you. "Still, it's gonna be a rough storm, looks like. Would ya-?"

Thunder rumbled nearby, and you jumped, automatically moving toward Billy. His hand came to your back in a protective way that nearly made you swoon.

"Ain't safe to walk back now," Billy commented, looking down at you. "Here, we can go into the clearing 'n wait out the worst of it."

"Okay," you nodded, and he took your hand, leading you through the meadow and into the trees, hiding where it was dry. The both of you were soaking wet.

"I know a little spot nearby," Billy explained, still guiding you through the clearing. "Lightning hits trees, don't want ya to get struck."

"That wouldn't be great," you agreed, and he gave you a nod.

"It's just-ah!" Billy led you to a slot in the nearby mountain akin to a gaping mouth. "Here. We'll be safe in here."

"You've been here before?" you asked, shivering a bit as you stepped in. It was dark and cold and you folded your arms around yourself to try and maintain a little body heat.

"Come here sometimes," he explained, nodding at a little circle of stones near you. "I'll start a fire. Could be awhile." You noticed a stack of cut wood to the side. It was clear he was a frequent visitor.

"Sit," he nodded, stacking wood in the circle and pulling out matches. "Can't have ya freezin' to death."

You did so hesitantly, putting out your hands when the flames started to catch on the wood. Looking up at him, you tilted your head. "Do you often rescue strange girls from thunderstorms?"

A smile quirked his lips. "I know who you are. My momma's rather fond of ya. M' brother too."

That made you smile, and you looked down. "I see."

He was sitting with one leg propped up, an elbow resting on his knee. "My momma reckons you're a sweetheart."

"That's nice of her," you blushed, looking down. "She's lovely as well."

"She is," he agreed, studying you. There was a moment of silence as the fire crackled, and with the way he was looking at you, you shivered in a way that didn't have anything to do with the cold.

He held out his arm. "C'mere."

"Hm?" you furrowed your brow in confusion.

"You're still soakin' wet," he said, his arm still extended. "I've got plenty've heat to go around."

"You're wet too," you pointed out and Billy laughed.

"Yeah but I'm bigger than you. C'mere," he flexed his fingers. "Lemme warm you up."

Carefully you moved over, into the safe looking space of his arm. He pulled you against him, settling his hand on your midsection as he held you close. "This alright?" You nodded, letting yourself lean into him. His clothes were still damp, but he was warm. You liked his hand there, big and warm with fingers sprawled across you.

"I've seen you around town before," you said quietly, your cheek smushed against his shoulder.

"Have ya?" he sounded amused, his fingers twitching on your side. "'nd ya never said anything?"

"No," you said simply, and he chuckled.

"Think I woulda noticed such a pretty girl," he commented, and you saw him set his hat by the fire to dry off.

That made you blush more, and you couldn't help your smile. "I keep to myself."

"Ah," he nodded in an understanding way. Billy rubbed your side in a respectful way, trying to warm you up more. "Has your family lived here long?"

"Not too much longer than yours," you said, staring into the fire and watching it dance.

"What's the story?" he questioned, looking down at you. "If ya don't mind me asking?"

"My father married someone new," you explained, looking up at him with a soft smile. There was something about him that made you want to tell him everything in your mind. "He wanted a fresh start."

He was looking at you in a way you couldn't place, but it felt warm. Cautiously, he lifted a bent thumb to brush a strand of wet hair from your cheek. "D'ya like it here?"

"More and more," you said, looking up at him. Something changed in his eyes and you looked up at him with doe ones. "Why did your family move here?"

Billy chuckled lightly, brushing your cheek with his thumb. "Y'know, it was pretty much the same reason as you. 'cept it was my mother who got married a lotta years back."

You nodded in understanding, looking up at him. "It must've been hard."

"Was," he nodded. "I'm gettin' used to it though. The town, not my mother's husband."

"Don't like him much?" It slipped out before you could filter it. "Oh- I'm sorry-"

"It's okay," he assured you, giving you a fond look. "It's okay. No, I don't. He's...well, he's done things no man should be proud of."

You nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry. It can't be easy living with him." Your hand moved to his on your stomach, interlacing the fingers and squeezing. It felt so natural that you barely remembered you'd only met him today.

Billy smiled softly. "Yeah. But it's okay." He squeezed back. "He ain't my whole life."

The storm turned out to be far more perilous and long than the two of you had originally thought, and when he suggested you spend the night in the cavern, you agreed straightaway. You were happy with your choice when he laid down by the fire and snuggled up to you from behind to keep you warm.

After the night in the cave, you found yourself drawn to him. He would come up to you in town and chat, leaning against a market stall or the railing of the porch to meet your eyes. You enjoyed spending time with him and found yourself missing him when he wasn't near you.

When he kissed you for the first time it was raining again, but this time you were in town, ducking under a roof in an alleyway. You were both laughing, and you'd accidentally fallen into him, holding onto his arms to steady yourself. He held onto you tight, looking into your eyes and the next thing you knew his lips were on yours, cool from the rainwater. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes to reach him.

From that point on, the two of you were inseparable. You fell hard and fast for him, jumping into his arms like he was a lake on a hot day. He adored you, was with you at every possible moment.

It was such a whirlwind, and you loved every second. You quickly learned what it meant to be Billy's girl, and it was a smooth river of flowing love and attention and time. He took you for walks in the clearing where you'd met and let you sit in his lap while you braided daisies together. He'd sneak you onto the rooftop of his house and show you his favorite stars, telling you all their names. Especially concerned with your safety, he escorted you everywhere, keeping an arm around you so everyone knew whose you were.

Billy would come wait for you at the bar in the tail ends of your shifts, drinking a whiskey and watching for wandering eyes. His stepfather was still a frequent visitor, and Billy didn't like you around him at all.

It was true that Antrim's eyes had a tendency to linger, as did his hands, but he seemed to keep to himself when Billy was around.

You didn't know much of what had happened between them, only that Antrim had done some horrible things in the city from which they'd come. You knew it was a sensitive topic, so you didn't ask many questions.

One night, when you were finishing cleaning up at the bar, you noticed Antrim still at the table he'd occupied all evening. Everyone else had cleared out, but he nursed a glass of whiskey, staring at the wood of the table.

You approached him, drying off another glass as you did. "We're just about closed, Mr. Antrim. Can I pour you one more?"

He looked up at you, eyes catching on parts of you that you'd rather they didn't. "That's alright darlin'. I'd best be headin' out." There was a look in his eyes that you didn't like, and you took one step back.

"Okay, I'll-"

Suddenly he stood up, grabbing your arm. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as you tried to wriggle away. He chuckled lowly. "You're real pretty, y'know that?"

"Mr. Antrim-" you tried, but he held firmer, and the glass slipped from your hand and shattered at your feet.

"Oh ya look even sweeter up close," he whispered, and your breathing quickened, your eyes wide with fear. One of his hands came to your waist, trailing upward to your chest. "Bet if I could touch-"

"Antrim."

Both of you looked up and saw Billy at the door, arms folded. Antrim didn't let go of you. "Kid."

Coming closer, Billy gave him a warning look. "Let go of 'er."

"Aw you're not gonna kick my ass over this little thing," Antrim scoffed. Billy got close to him, grabbing hold of his arm that was holding yours.

"I said let go." His words were glaringly threatening. When Antrim still didn't loosen his grip, Billy shoved his arm off you, sending the drunk man stumbling a few paces backward.

Billy's boots crunched over the broken glass on the floor as he brought you close to him, putting his hand on the back of your head and bringing your face to his shoulder. "Out."

You heard the sound of footsteps scurrying out, and Billy heaved a sigh of relief. He rubbed your back, his big hand on your head making you feel safe. "M' baby," he murmured, hugging you tight to him. "You okay? He didn't hurt ya?"

Shaking your head, you drew back to look at him. He rested his palms on your cheeks and you held his wrists. "I'm sorry, 'm so sorry this happened to you. He's rotten, ain't ever leavin' ya alone here 'gain."

"Billy," you were a little shaky from the experience and he recognized that, drawing you back into his arms and kissing your head, whispering sweet things into your hair.

He led you to his bed for the first time that night, not for anything sexual, but for protection, assuring you Antrim wouldn't come home. And even if he did, he'd have Billy to deal with. You snuck past Joe, reaching into your pocket for a piece of candy to leave on his pillow by his head.

Billy smiled at the gesture and reached out his hands for you, holding you like a teddy bear between his arms. You settled your head on his chest since he only had one pillow, and besides, you liked better here anyways.

It became a bit of a habit after that- coming to his bed after work for that feeling of safety that you had only ever found in his arms. You loved him for wanting you to feel that way. Kathleen never said a word about it when she saw you leave in the morning, only smiling at you in her sweet way.

Rarely did you come across Antrim in their home, and when you did you were always under Billy's arm, feeling like he was a shield. The nights you spent with him were always peaceful, and you treasured them dearly.

One night, after collapsing into him after a longer shift, you woke up in the still, eerie hours of the morning and Billy wasn't there. Looking up, you realized it was raining, the steady sound making you smile.

You waited a few minutes, but Billy didn't come back. Standing up and stretching, you smoothed your dress and made your way out to see if he was in the kitchen. No Billy.

Once you were there though, you could hear a distinct, violent sound coming from outside, easier to hear over the rain now that you were closer to it. Hesitantly curious, you opened the door, and immediately, you were frozen.

Billy was throwing a punch at Antrim, sending the man tumbling to the muddy ground. He shouted something and Billy did too, their words impossible to make out through the rain.

But before you could go back inside, Billy turned around and saw you, his face falling. He just stood there, in the pouring rain for a moment, staring at you and gaging your reaction.

Finally you willed yourself to move, and you came forward to him, not caring that your clothes were getting soaked. Reminded of the first time you met, you let the memory make this scene a little softer.

You reached for his knuckles and saw how bloody they were, the rainwater washing some of it off. Without saying a word, you led him by the hand back inside, and he followed.

Grabbing a rag from the sink, you pressed it to his hands, one at a time. The blood stained your hands, but you didn't care, your eyes never leaving him. He seemed ashamed, and he avoided your gaze the entire time you were cleaning him up.

Putting the rag down, you took both his hands in yours, squeezing them. "Billy," you started softly. "What happened?"

He exhaled softly, still not looking at you. "'S not for you to know, baby."

"Billy," you repeated, leaning in closer. Your words were unmoving, intentional in their purpose.

Squeezing your hands back, he closed his eyes as he spoke. "He was tryna come back in. Said some things I won't repeat."

"About what?" you pressed.

Billy met your eyes. "'bout you, sweetheart. He hit me where he knew it'd get me."

You inhaled sharply, searching his eyes. "You..."

"Hey," Billy squeezed your hands again, sensing your distress. "I get into it with Antrim all the time. Ain't no big deal."

Shaking your head, you found yourself on the verge of tears. "Your hands were bleeding..."

"Alright, alright," Billy removed his hands from yours and brought them to your waist instead, pulling you into his lap, your back against his chest. One of your legs was situated between his knees, and the tiny gesture comforted you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his arms around your middle. The both of you were still wet from the rain but neither of you cared.

"Needed ya to be nice 'n close when I told ya this," he murmured, kissing your shoulder and lightly rocking you back and forth. "Angel...there ain't nothin' I wouldn't do to keep ya safe. You're my girl. That means you've got me no matter what. Understand?"

You nodded, leaning sideways so you could rest your head on his shoulder. Instantly you knew the gravity of what his love for you meant. Here was a man who loved you enough to protect you.

The realization only made you love him more, and you told him so when the two of you were cuddled back up in bed that morning, the sunrise starting to peek through the window.

"I love you," you breathed against his chest, your affection swelling from your heart and pouring out your mouth like sunshine.

He held your head to him and kissed your hair. "I love you, sweetheart. You're safe with me. I promise."

And as dawn stretched its rosy fingers into the sky, the way you loved him was smooth and soft like the rain that had brought you two together, only leaving joy in its wake. The steady flow of his love was something you could hold onto, something safe and solid, always found when you were nestled in his arms.

come talk about billy here!

[mattatouilletkachuk]

Can you combine 8 & 9 from your off-season prompt list for John? 😂

An Abrupt Wake Up || John Marino

Prompt: 8. “You snore. Loudly.” & 9. “I don’t understand how I slept so good last night.”

WC: 1k+

A/N: I know I’m a slow writer but I had to post something for John’s birthday!

Summary: Making your relationship official during the hockey season was amazing, however, the off-season sheds some light on some things you didn’t know about your boyfriend previously.

Despite officially dating John for five months, now. You had never actually seen him get a good night's sleep. You spent the night over at his place and he’s slept over at yours so by now you thought that you understood his bedtime routine and weird sleeping idiosyncracies.

You were wrong.

For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to you that John would sleep differently during the off-season than during the regular hockey season. He had always seemed like such a light sleeper. Coming back from a game or a roadie and just passing out and waking up a few hours later still in the same position he fell asleep in. This Summer you had quickly come to realize that he wasn’t getting really sleeping, if he was getting anything it was a power nap.

You had only come to this realization this morning as you watched him sleep and listened to his air horn of a snore. When he invited you to come home with him to Boston this Summer, you thought it would be peaceful and relaxing. There wouldn’t be any nerves because you had already met his family during the season. You couldn’t have predicted that your eyes would be bloodshot and that you’d have bags under your eyes after the first night. It wasn’t your preferred method of staying awake all night because of John, in fact, you’d rather stay awake with John, but that wasn’t the case.

Your eyes shifted over to the clock on the bedside table and you realize that now would usually be the time that you would wake up and get ready for the day. Instead, you wanted to grab earplugs and hide under the thick comforter and sleep until the sun went down but because that wasn’t an option at the moment you decided that John would just have to be awake with you.

There wasn’t much thought put into it before you leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed one of the decorative pillows and came back up and hit him in the face with it. Had you not been so grumpy from your lack of sleep you probably would have felt bad or at the very least chucked the pillow across the room to get rid of the evidence.

With one final deep and guttural snore, John sat upright in a panic, blinking his eyes several times before they finally adjusted and landed on you.

“Did something happen? What’s wrong?” You almost felt bad.

You shrugged your shoulders and adjusted your pillow before you snuggled into it. “It’s time to wake up. You said you wanted to hit the gym early.”

John rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock, similar to the way that you did you few moments ago. As he stretched you used it as an opportunity to steal some of the comforter that he was using.

“I actually feel well-rested,” his voice was deep and heavy and you usually would have pulled him back into bed for some morning fun before he went off to the gym but now you just wanted him to go lift weights or run on a treadmill for a little while while you slept the day away. “I don’t understand how I slept so good last night.“

John’s last few words made you peek your head out from under the blankets and finally take in your boyfriend. His curly hair which you loved so much was a mess and he was rubbing at his eyes. Despite your previous frustration and your current exhaustion, your heartbeat sped up as you looked at him. For the first time in months, he did, honestly, look well-rested and although it was at the cost of your own sleep you still smiled knowing that this Summer you were probably going to see a new side to John. A side that the hockey season had no room for.

No more words were said between the two of you as you fell lightly in and out of sleep and John got ready to go to the gym. It was only after he laced up his shoes and grabbed his gym bag that he came over to give you a kiss goodbye. You smiled softly at the touch but immediately frowned as you remembered something.

“You snore. Loudly.“ It’s quiet and had John not been inches away from your face he probably wouldn’t have heard it but he needed to know. You weren’t about to let him leave and have him be clueless.

“What?” Confusion was written all over his face as he stood up. It wasn’t hurt or anger but you wondered if the confusion was because of your timing or if he really didn’t know he snored. Surely he had to know, an atomic bomb would be quieter than him.

You pulled the covers up to your chin and closed your eyes as you said, “You have got to give a person a warning when you snore that loud. It’s common courtesy. It’s like if you offered me orange juice and I said ‘yes’ but you gave me a glass of orange juice but with pulp.”

When he remained silent you cracked an eye open to look at him. He found it humorous and even while you were close to falling asleep, you were also itching to hit him with a pillow again. “Warning is all I’m asking for because last night I learned that when you aren’t playing hockey you moonlight as Thomas the Train.”

John’s laughter filled the bedroom. It wasn’t just the sleeping that felt different. It was his entire being, he slept harder, laughed louder, and in general seemed lighter. You loved this man but you bit your tongue. It wasn’t the right time for you to confess your feelings. Not right now.

“While I’m out I’ll pick up some noise-canceling headphones or earbuds for you,” he finally says as he leans down again to kiss you softly on the lips.

You give him one last peck before pulling back and smiling up at him with what probably seems like a dreamy expression but you couldn’t care less.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, Johnny.”

“I’ll see you later, baby”

[san8ny]

nearby.

an: SFW with fluff, but there is some underlying hinting to Abby’s conflicting attraction to you; not an original trope obviously, so credit to the authors who’ve done this before.

It wasn't that serious.

'It wasn't that serious', is what they told themselves at first, as they looked at you, seemingly feeling like discarded toys a child leaves once they acquire a newer one— a better one

they were utterly absorbed in envy at how much she paid attention to you,

how she would call you over in the languid mornings, sun barely risen, to brush your tangled hair with a wooden-paddle while everyone else gets a headstart on their chores,

Or maybe, how she would click her tongue and swipe the pads of her thumbs across your sticky supple cheeks when you return from the trees during Maple Syrup season,

Abby Anderson truely had favorites, and it was clearly obvious who it was,

Though no one complained, she was growing seemingly aware at the odds you were becoming with your ranch counterparts,

“I just..god, it’s annoying, y’know?” you mutter to her, lifting your head up from where you lay in the grassy terrain, a small place you and Abby would relax in before attending to the crops, “Like, they weren’t always like this, Harriet was so much nicer and Opal actually use to talk to me.”

Abby hums, tying up her horse before easing herself onto the ground near where you lay, “I think you’re overthinking it.”

“You always say that.”

“Am I ever wrong?”

You smile as you drop your head back down, closing your eyes, “Kinda wish you were.”

Abby chuckles at your words before carefully lifting the brim of her hat and placing it on your face, providing shade to some degree, “Mm.”

After some quiet moments with the rustling of the trees and the Cicadas ticking amongst them, you find yourself peering up from the hat and staring at where Abby rests her eyes,

She had to have been one of the prettiest girls out there by far and the kindest ones,

Long dirty blonde hair, firm blue eyes that softened whenever she conversed with people to contradict her ‘tough guy’ persona, little dottings of freckles that would come and go—everything about her was pretty to you.

Albeit, you and her didn’t get along at first when you arrived on the ranch, but she warmed up to your willingness to befriend her in a way that didn’t feel like smooching, it was genuine.

it also, wasn’t far along the road where she would find herself falling for the very traits in you she previously found annoyance in,

the way you’d look at her in blatant confusion when she insults you with terms you’d never heard about as a city-dweller,

“I think i’d rather you call me a bitch or something..” you’d say with several blinks as she sizes you up,

Abby was humored with your presence around her, but it also gave her a sense of comfort.

You were soft around the edges the southern sun had wilted hers.

While you stare at her through the little peeking spot under the cowboy hat ridge, she cracks an eye open— “You have a staring problem.” She says, yawning as she turns onto her side to face you fully,

“Nu-uh.”

“Yuh-huh” She mocks, groaning as she stretches and sits up, “How long have we been here ‘gain?”

“10 minutes, i’d say? Give or take.” You shrug, copying her actions. The afternoon heat consumes you as you unbutton the top buttons of your flannel, “Not even June yet and it’s burning.”

Sorry, were you speaking?

Abby was too focused on watching the dribble of sweat traveling down your neck to the swell inbetween your tanktop-clad breasts,

“Abs?” You say in slight confusion when she doesn’t give you some small, likely smart-assed retort back.

Her eyes quickly flicker up to yours, blinking before shaking her head, “Y-yeah, yeah. Heat’s ‘jus getting to me too” She coughs out, “Let’s head on down to the roots.”

“Right.” You nod before standing up, “ I CALL DIBS ON THE TURNIPS!”

Abby groans as she watches you race towards your tethered stallions, “C’mon, those are my favorite!”

Though, when you’re not looking, she’s giving you the smallest of smiles,

How she would ever say she loves you romantically without ruining this relationship you both had tugs at her heart-strings,

but until then,

she was content with whatever you threw at her.

[shveris]

my jjk headcanons, part 3

tumblr pls give me more colors

part 1

part 2

part 4

satoru’s favorite color can only be seen with the six eyes. he’s tried explaining it to his peers multiple times but it just left him frustrated and everyone else very confused like “wdym you can see different colour spectrums????”

modern!au sukuna calls the number on missing animal posters, imitates the noise of the animal that’s missing and then hangs up (he does the same with missing children ones, too, if he’s feeling particularly unhinged)

modern!au yuuji has a letterboxd account and his reviews are the funniest shit you’ll ever read

he does the same with steam game reviews, too, and at some point dragged megumi and nobara into his shenanigans as well

first year suguru said “eat the rich” and satoru asked “why do you wanna eat me????” (shoko cried tears of laughter). this is how suguru found out satoru’s a nepo baby

adult satoru brings nanami cds and vinyls from emo/alt/rock bands as souvenirs whenever he has missions abroad. nanami keeps telling him to stop but the first thing he does when he arrives home is listen to them

nanami is also who megumi got his taste of music from since nanami babysat the fushiguro siblings some times when they were younger

cult leader suguru calls shoko whenever he gets a serious injury and asks her to come over and heal it (she gets there as fast as she can)

quitting smoking was very rough on shoko but babysitting the fushiguro siblings and studying for her medical license was a great distraction

modern!au choso doesn’t have the tattoo/mark over the bridge of his nose, instead it’s just a huge scar he got as a kid during some accident

megumi likes listening to rain sounds while falling asleep

satoru’s a little (read: huge) nerd. his bookshelves are filled with lectures and studies about physics and math theories, documentations of all kinds of natural sciences, he keeps up to date with everything in the field and even peeked into biographies of big science people

despite satoru and suguru being very cat-coded, shoko is actually more of a dog person (how does she put up with them? we’ll never know)

nobara regularly uses megumi and yuuji to test out her new nail polishes. she’d wipe it off for them after but at some point neither of them cared anymore so the boys just run around with colourful nails some times

when we see sukuna eat popcorn and drink soda during his fight with mahoraga, it’s because he saw yuuji eat/drink all those things while he was in satoru’s basement. he got curious and wanted to try himself but we saw how that ended

an addition to the hc above, sukuna also has forgotten the flavours and textures of all kinds of foods. modern era foods would really mess with his taste buds because heian period food wasn’t particularly known to be as flavourful as it is today + they didn’t really use oil back then. sukuna would certainly be insanely overwhelmed if given a modern meal

this is not really a headcanon but also not canon because gege never specified it: only cursed spirits can see sukuna’s tattoos. there’s several indications in both manga and anime that humans & shamans alike cannot see the tattoos (correct me if i’m wrong) but in season 2 jogo’s inner monologue proves that he can see them. i’d like to think it must be because he’s a cursed spirit, which means all cursed spirits (or high ranked ones) are able to see the marks

when satoru held yuuji in that basement for two months, yuuji taught him how to cook because “sensei, you’re an adult. how do you not know how to make tamagoyaki??? we can’t order takeout twice a day!” (yes yuuji, he can, he’s gojo fucking satoru, he has a black card and swims in money)

yuuji is good at every sports, even the ones he’s never played before

[nouearth]

autumn reminders.

bruce wayne x male reader.

summary: in the start of autumn, you surprise bruce with lunch because he hasn't been taking care of himself.

wc: 1.3k. warnings: fluff, kinda angst(?), comfort! fic, established relationship, mentions of food, bruce is overworked, he's also horny, worried!reader, touchy!bruce, husband!bruce.

a/n: a short little one-shot because i miss writing for bruce! and autumn is finally here, so i can finally wear my sweaters!! idk, i feel bad for not updating as much, and i also didn't want to only update with smut, lol. but i hope you guys enjoy it! <3 maybe i'll write something about pumpkin spice coffee soon!

the building absorbed the heavy clacks of your suede oxfords as you ambled along the halls. tall windows lined by your side, illuminating you in the afternoon with every step, and occasionally, you’d pause to snap a photo at the autumn vista. it was approaching quick: the cooler weather, the stronger gales, and the changing leaves. while you loved the season most for bringing out your sweaters and coats—most importantly, the autumn season brought in curated festivals, decoration, and your favorite: the autumn menu.

“oh—mister wayne, do you need help with that?” an employee was quick to turn on his heel as you passed by him, but he caught in in four steps, wide-eyed when you turned at the sound of his voice.

“no, it’s all right! figured this would be my punishment for skipping out arm-day!” though you struggled maintaining the weight of several paper bags in your arms and two coffee cups, a smile of assurance and a thumbs up, barely visible in between the grasp of the cup and the height of the bags, reluctantly sent the employee on his way to his duties.

the smile on your face was radiant, much more than a few seconds ago. it’s been almost a year, but it hasn’t gotten old yet—being called mister wayne.

it only took a few more minutes, a fresh bruise to the elbow when you bumped into a wall, and then a scare when you almost dropped your coffee before you were at bruce’s door. before you could put the bags and cups down to open it, it flew open with a confident swing and you jolted from the gentle ambush, hugging the paper bags closer to your body to still the weight.

“why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” the ache in your arms was immediately relieved once you stepped inside bruce’s office, the latter taking a bag for himself and setting it on his coffee table after locking the door closed.

“were you watching the security cameras again?” you followed, setting the other bag next to it, as well as the two coffee cups before then stretching your arms above your head, a pleasurable groan kicking a strum from your throat.

“well, yes—wanted to see if you could make it up here without getting lost.” bruce chuckled, reaching out to firmly squeeze your tense shoulders twice. “but the secretary also told me you were heading up.” you groaned again, at the confession and the aggressive touch, playfully flicking his hands away while you were bent over to disperse the takeout from the paper bags. but bruce persisted with a firmer grasp, massaging your shoulders when he lined behind your figure. 

“you’re kidding! she promised me she wouldn’t!“ the rigid touch of bruce’s hands eventually wandered off into gentle squeezes to your sides, waist, and bottom. your chest rose for a deep inhale, glancing at the locked door as you stood straight again, and then deflated, exhaling, when a single hand found its home on your stomach, warm and heavy on the layers of clothing, only to escape when it took slow dive to the compress of your belt, nudging the sturdy leather with his fingertips.

there was a sudden weight on your left shoulder. he hooked his chin over the narrow muscle to peek over at his hands fiddling with the leather strap, kissing your neck in midst of the fidgeting. “shouldn’t have bought you this—it was easier when you had that cheaper belt.”

“I knew you’d come around to the idea of second-hand clothing!” the surge of veins in your neck as you laughed vibrated against his lips, and bruce joined you in quiet chuckles, his arms holding you tight when he finally unbuckled your belt.

there was a satisfied sound from bruce, sinking into your skin as he continued on kissing your neck, when he removed your belt, and as much as you wanted your husband right now, the ache down south aiding this frustration as it demanded you to ignore the smell of the cooling takeout, your stomach grumbled when the aroma of the sandwiches was resolute and stung your nostrils. the smell of deli meat unfurled in the air to claim its next victim, and the sound of bruce’s stomach groused after.

“lunch first.” you rolled your head back into his shoulders, matching his doting gaze with a smile as you admired his looks for the nth time since you’ve met him. “year is ending soon, so i know you have a lot of late meetings to attend to.”

bruce’s slicked-back hair revealed more of the fine wrinkles on his forehead and emphasized the sharpness of his features. you were embarrassed to admit that upon first meeting him, you were too intimidated by his presence to revel in his beauty like everyone else did. even when you’ve gotten to know him, it had always been his story that had stoned you by his side.

“i know, i’m sorry. I’ll try to come home early, but i can’t promise that.”

now that you’ve read every chapter of his life up to this point, you could finally take the time to appreciate how handsome he was. beyond surface level features, you could allude every small detail on his face to the novel of bruce wayne, down to every page, because you were a part of his life now. your hand cupped his cheek as your thumb laved over his eye-bags, tender in its warm stride. bruce hummed, leaning into your palm and watching you silently as seconds went by.

“don’t apologize! i’ll visit you when you have time, yeah? don’t overwork yourself too. alfred’s been nagging at me to bring you meals, so consider this part of your daily routine now! and you’ve been skipping out on dinner because of—”

it was like he knew what you were about to say, about his double-life as a vigilante. your gaze grew concerning. he had noted how your brows knitted together when you were reluctant to say something, when something had been bothering you. 

when the words caught in your throat, bruce seized the opportunity to kiss your worries away instead. it made him feel better—knew it made you feel better—even if it was temporarily, and he pressed harder into your lips, kissing every corner of flesh until his own worries regarding your safety had briefly perished.

bruce was never good with his words.

he pulled away with a delighted sigh, leaning his forehead onto yours once he turned you back around, and his palms immediately found themselves warming your flushed cheeks. "i'll be okay."

but he was willing to try, for you.

"i have no doubts about that. i just need you to be extra, extra okay." the image of a bloodied bruce months ago still haunted you in your wake, but it only took a gentle press of bruce's palms to reel you back into the haven of his arms.

bruce laughed, and upon noticing that it only raised another level of fret within you, a deeper ribbon threading your eyebrows closer, he pressed the tip of his nose to yours like he did the very first time he held you, and kissed your lips again.

"i'll be extra, extra, extra okay." he assured with your tired murmurs, and you sighed into them as if they were a lullaby, sinking into his arms completely.

your lips danced with his in a slow and calming waltz, and you shuddered when the breeze from the acceleration of your pulse surged though your chest. bruce held you closer to his body, pressing the swell of your heart to his own and puzzling every individual beat until they fused as one, pulsated into one another.

“so, sandwiches, huh? does alfred know that i’m eating terrible? something that isn't from his own hands?"

“not if you tell him, asshole.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

[ozzgin]

Greetings! How you doing today/tonight?

This is not a request or anything

Hopefully you're doing fine, cuz I'm not, I have a shitty cold rn and I just finished 5 tissue roll papers in just a few hours

Anyway this ain't about me, just wanted to see how you were doing since I've been a bit inactive with tumblr with the past few days

Have a great day/night :3

-🎧anon

Aww, sorry to hear that. We’re definitely entering cold/flu season. Mid-October I’ve gotten ill with some virus, no idea what it was, but I had no other symptoms other than terribly swollen sinuses. Which, in turn, pressed on my tooth nerves, so I had massive tooth pain for days. Never dealt with anything like that before and it sounds downright ridiculous, turns out it’s an actual thing. Start taking immunity supplements and avoid visibly sick people!

I know you said it’s not a request, but I couldn’t help the thought of “How would the Baki characters take care of you?” So I did write some short headcanons after all. For you and anyone else currently bedridden. :)

Baki Characters x Sick! Reader

Featuring Baki and Jack Hanma, Kaiou Retsu, Katsumi Orochi and Pickle. And a reader that’s battling a cold!

Baki Hanma

There are two stages of Baki’s involvement. Once you’re not answering his calls he will be at your front door, worried and considering ways to break in. That’s when he hears the muffled coughing and sneezing through the walls and figures it out: You’re sick. He’ll return with a bag of supplies and offer to stay at your place until you feel better. His help consists of quick Google searches, because he’s never had anyone doting on him and consequently has no idea how to care for someone in such situations.

Second and final stage is him getting sick from you. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night to see him trying to hold back his cough, at first denying his poor health until you touch his forehead and it’s burning. The bad news is that you’re both bedridden. Baki is beyond embarrassed, attempting to justify himself and explaining it has never happened before. Eventually one of his or your friends will show up and pay the occasional visit to play nurse. At least you’re not suffering alone. You’re not sure if it’s an actual saying, but you’re tempted to believe colds go away faster in good company.

Jack Hanma

You don’t want to interfere with Jack’s routine, so once you wake up with the familiar sore muscles, you decide to quietly recover from home. Jack notices your absence and while he does not want to be nonchalant and potentially impose on your personal troubles, he can’t help the curiosity. In fact, he spends the whole training time wondering why you’ve skipped your usual visits. So when you hear a knock on the door you don’t think twice about opening it. Probably your food delivery. Only when you notice Jack’s massive frame blocking any outside view, you gasp in surprise.

“Oh. You seem to be ill.” Is all he states before turning on his heels and leaving. You stand there baffled and eventually return to your warm bed. Just as you cozy up, there’s another knock and you groan, throwing the blankets off of you. This better be the hot soup you ordered. Except it’s Jack again, holding not only your delivery, but also multiple other bags with groceries peeking out. “Y-you’re back?” You mumble. “Well, can’t do much empty handed. Here’s your order, but I got some extra things to help with your cold”, he states as he invites himself in.

Kaiou Retsu

You know Retsu will be worried about you, so you try your best to mask the symptoms over the phone. “That’s a stuffed nose. Are you sick?” He immediately points out. Uh oh. You fumble with some excuses and he promptly hangs up. Have you upset him? You’re starting to feel bad. He’s never dropped out of a conversation like this before. You try to call back several times until you’re distracted by the sound of your doorbell. You’re not in the mood for visitors. You continue your attempts to reach Retsu as you approach the door and open it. “I suspected as much.” Your head snaps up hearing the familiar voice.

Before you can say anything, you’re casually lifted up and brought to your bed. As if he’s been doing it his entire life, the Kenpo master tucks you in and pulls out an apron from his bag. “I’ll check what ingredients you already have in your pantry and go buy the rest. Before that, I’ll make you a tea. Any preferences?” You open your mouth to speak, but he’s already walking away, describing the best choice of drink for the common cold. Really, the best thing you can do right now is to rest and leave everything else to him.

Katsumi Orochi

Usually, Katsumi will avoid using the spare key you’ve given him. On the other hand, he was supposed to pick you up for your regular date night and you haven’t answered his persistent knocking, so you leave him little choice. He quietly apologizes for the intrusion as he unlocks the door and tiptoes his way in. The lights are off and he’s becoming increasingly anxious, almost sprinting to your bedroom. He stops in his tracks once he sees you buried under the blankets, passed out and sweaty from an obvious cold.

Ah. Well, that makes sense. He smiles to himself and gently pats your forehead to make sure it’s nothing serious, then sneaks out of the room. You wake up hours later, groggy and sore. It suddenly occurs to you that you’ve slept through your date and jolt up, nearly collapsing in the process. You erratically search for your phone and call Katsumi to apologize. Simultaneously you hear his ringtone nearby, so you limp outside, confused. As you reach the kitchen, a pleasant smell invades your nostrils. Katsumi turns to look at you. “You’re awake! I made something to help with your cold. I’ll bring it to your bed, so you can go back and rest. We can’t skip our romantic dinner.” He chuckles after the last statement.

Pickle

Pickle has been ill at least once in his life, so he can quickly guess that your coughing and runny nose is not something that’s supposed to happen on the regular. Although, if he’s honest, he has no idea what he should do. He’d deal with his sickness by just sleeping it out, or downright ignoring it. Seeing you like this, however, fills him with an overwhelming desire to help you. He does love you, after all. Witnessing your suffering isn’t something he does with ease.

He manages to gesture the situation to Baki, who follows him back to your place and proceeds to do the first aid he’d sporadically learned over the years. A rather clumsy attempt, but it’s better than nothing. Once Pickle has observed the steps, he swiftly shoos the young boy away. All he needed was a little bit of demonstration, some brief instruction on the modern ways. Everything else will be done by him. It’s only proper that the actual care is performed by your partner. You’re a little afraid of the potential outcome to this experiment. Especially once you hear the loud rattles coming from the kitchen. Don’t worry, it’s all made with love.

*My partner has insisted that I include Yuujirou Hanma just to say that he’d tenderly piss on you. I compromised on a footnote.

[slavicviking]

Long Jump, Huge Leap

wc: 5k | Pre-Season 3 steddie

[Ao3]

Whoever said Eddie Munson doesn’t like sports is wrong.

One can dislike a candy bar, a type of soda, a likewise mundane thing that comes down to preferences. No, no. What Eddie Munson feels towards sports cannot be condensed into such a simple term. His body itself outright refuses to take part in any sport activity – sweat immediately pooling at his pits and back and ass, legs acting disjointed, arms too long and too weak to do anything of significance, except for maybe making a fool of himself. With that particular element of his P.E. experience helps his mouth which, funnily enough, is the only part of Eddie that runs quicker than anyone, especially its owner, can catch up. Not that the rest of his group feels exceptionally impressed with the skill presented.

Hawkins High doesn’t need a furry mascot for laugh-inducing entertainment when it has Eddie Munson.

“Munson, you’re in Hagan’s team.”

“Oh, for fuck’s-“

“Do not fret, little ol’ Thomas, I sincerely vouch to not dare touch the balls you play with-“

And as the usual song and dance goes, the ball is thrust directly into his stomach.

Several bruises left on his body and ego later Eddie decides it’s simply not worth it, he skips P.E. entirely – avoids it as if it were the ninth circle of Hell. It may as well be, he thinks. Uncle Wayne seems persistent to convince Eddie to try again but after a long and, frankly tiring, conversation the subject is dropped.

Until now.

Eddie stretches out his legs in front of him, the uncomfortable plastic chair digging into his spine and reshaping his already barely-there ass into a flat tire. It’s psychological warfare, it must be, because how else can one explain furniture that defies its primary function so well. Principal Higgins knew well what she did when she chose them to be placed in front of her office. Her own personal little torture chamber.

“The Principal is ready to see you now, Mr. Munson,” the secretary, a pretty blonde in her twenties, tries to smile at him but all that comes out as a result is a grimace stretched thin over her face. It dims further when Eddie stands up making the most noise he possibly could have with the chair sliding across the parquet.

“Sorry,” he says because he is actually sorry. For all his bold persona and jumping on tables, he hates the idea of bothering someone who absolutely does not deserve it. The secretary is nice, he can say that with confidence he’s gained over sitting in that damned red plastic chair too many times to bother counting. He also knows he can be a lot when seated in it – constantly twitching and shifting, mind all too self-aware of the pre-attached uncoordinated body.

Principal Higgins doesn’t look pleased to see him but when does she ever? Eddie personally believes they see each other often enough to be on first-name basis, or at least have this unspoken camaraderie between each other. He thinks the name Margaret would fit her. Tiffany? The only obstacle of their everlasting friendship he can think of is the boundless hatred she has for him. And he has for her.

“Mr. Munson, I’m glad you could join us,” she says, voice syrupy-sweet, so much so it clogs Eddie’s ears for a moment. She has a maroon sweater on today and Eddie thinks it complements the stark bags under her eyes very well. A white blouse ironed to the bone peeks out from underneath it, sleeves rolled up. It’s then that he notices Coach Collins sitting in the chair usually reserved for the culprit’s legal guardian. This is not a usual part of their – Higgins’ and Eddie’s – routine and so it throws him out of the loop a little.

“Please sit,” Higgins points to the only empty seat in her office. Eddie is glad, for what’s it worth, that the chairs here are leagues better than whatever monstrosity his ass still feels the imprint of awaits in the waiting room.

“It wasn’t me,” Eddie says what he always does as he sits down. The Principal doesn’t look any more or less impressed with the line than usual, only letting out a silent sigh.

“Mr. Munson, your attendance ratio in Mr. Collins’ class is abhorrent.”

 Ah. Rough and straight to the point, just the way he likes it.

“I might have missed… a couple of days,” Eddie admits, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. His eyes roam the intricate designs on the carpet. Surprisingly enough they look exactly the same as the last time he’s seen them.

“More like a whole semester, son,” Coach finally decides to take part in this excruciating exchange.

“Normally that amount of missed classes is enough to fail the grade but Mr. Collins was considerate enough to offer you a deal,” Higgins pointedly stares Eddie down as if wanting to force him to slide down to his knees and thank the Coach for the opportunity. As if ‘Mr. Collins’ didn’t turn his head at all the harassment Eddie has faced in his class to begin with.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sport’s Day is coming up. We’d like you to join us this year, Mr. Munson,” she adds, implying she very much would not like him to be there at all but some predestined script requires it. “I believe some teamwork could do you good.”

Yes. Because being stuck with the school’s entire jock population on the football field is somehow better than ten or so of them in a P.E. class. He’s going to die, for sure .

The thing is, he knows they are giving him an excellent out. Sport’s Day is sort-of mandatory, though he’s only attended it once himself. It’s a big event for the school that, in theory, is a great opportunity to let a bit loose and get to know each other. Except, as it often is, a certain part of the Hawkins High population deems themselves as better than others and what should be all fun and games turns puckingly nerve-wracking if you dare to not be pristinely perfect and screw up. Eddie had one attempt in 1982 and hasn’t stick in a foot or arm onto school grounds that day ever since.

“Right,” he says in the end, voice a little strangled. They both clearly take it as him agreeing and, well, he doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Unless he wants to repeat Senior Year again.

He doesn’t.

He really, really doesn’t.

So one full day of excruciating pain it is.

-&-

It’s hot as fucking balls.

The event hasn’t started yet but Eddie can already feel the sweat pooling all over his body. Students stand in small groups all around the yard and it takes him a long while before he spots the Corroded Coffin.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Eddie Munson?”

“Yeah, yeah, yack it up,” he rolls his eyes at Jeff, eyes scanning the area for a semi-hidden smoking spot and finding none. It’s too risky, anyway. He lifts the hem of his shirt to fan himself. “Not like I had a choice.”

They all know about the quote unquote ‘olive branch’ handed out to him by the school but he can feel they’re surprised he decided to follow through with the spectacle anyway.

A long queue forms in the middle of the court, Coach Collins and Jenkins right at the top of it all along with Principle Higgins, each with a jar filled with differently colored strips of material in their hands. Even with no say in the matter, Eddie feels his hand sweating the closer he gets to the harbinger of his doom. Soon enough he will know who is going to make his life hell the next ten or so hours.

“Team yellow,” Collins tells him and gives him the appropriately colored ribbon. Eddie does a apathetic ‘woohoo’ with it before sliding off the side where his new team members reside. He ties the material loosely around his neck because he lives to disrupt the norm. Because fuck Collins.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to go there, dude,” Hawkins’ personal eye-candy, Steve Harrington, tells him upon arrival. Even in this horrid damp weather he keeps smiling for some unknown reason, no strand of hair out of place. He has his basketball uniform on – a simple gray shirt and, oh God, tiny shorts that expose those legs- Eddie snaps his head up so fast he’s surprised it hasn’t cracked and rolled off yet. Perhaps that would be the more merciful solution. A yellow ribbon is residing around Harrington’s sun-kissed bicep.

Great.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a great fan of rules,” he bites, hoping Harrington will just leave him be.

“I know. It’s your whole shtick.” So. That’s a no. Harrington shrugs.

“But sometimes rules are there for a reason,” he says and hooks his finger under the ribbon around Eddie’s neck to tug at it lightly. “To, like, not die.”

However eloquently phrased, Eddie begrudgingly admits – to himself, in his head, never out loud – that there might be a good point hidden somewhere underneath all that hair spray. He wonders if it were Hagan in Harrington’s place would there be a more hands-on approach to this warning. With Eddie being left strangled.

Quite possibly.

He’s not going to test that theory.

“Whatever his majesty wants,” Eddie says as he dutifully unties the yellow ribbon from his neck. And because he never knows when to shut up, he adds, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice, dude. I know me being in your team, like, disrupts your mojo, or whatever.”

Harrington is noticeably not smiling anymore. He doesn’t cross his arms though it looks like he really wants to. There’s a pinch between his eyebrows. It should not be attractive but, alas, Eddie is but a weak man.

“It’s supposed to be fun, man.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eddie ends up mumbling, feeling out of energy all of a sudden. The queue of students doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter, not that it matters much because all his friends have been scattered throughout all the other teams. He moves to sit on the grass at the edge of their little Yellow group, legs spread out in front of him. The grass is dry under his palms as he leans back, and he wishes he could light an inconspicuous smoke. Even more so when a body slams into him.

“Jesus Christ, what the f-“

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” a girl yelps. “I was trying to tie my shoe but I have, like, no coordination so I kind of fell over you? I didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry. Balancing on one leg is so much harder than it looks. Like, honestly, how do cheerleaders even do that thing where they-“

“Whoa, hey, it’s fine,” Eddie jumps in before the girl – Robin Buckley, turns out – faints from lack of air. A yellow ribbon hangs limply off her wrist. Maybe it makes him a bad person but there is a sense of relief knowing he will not be the only ‘uncoordinated’ one on the team. Harrington is going to have an aneurysm for sure.

Robin blinks down at him, lips pulling down in a frown. “Oh, it’s you.”

Okay? Mean.

“Yes?” Whatever imaginary comradery Eddie hoped for seems off the table all of a sudden. Well, that’s a bummer. “Why the long face? Not happy to see a fellow nerd on the team?”

“You stepped on my sandwich last week.”

Ah. Well. That would do it, he supposes. The lunch break speeches… they sometimes get a little intense. Eddie gets a little intense, is what the rest of the Hellfire Club would probably say. Eddie’s shoes have been known to slam face – sole? – first into the best of what the Hawkins High cafeteria had to offer; which is not saying much, to be completely honest.

“My humble apologies,” he tries a little bow and hopes it comes off sincere. Buckley looks less than convinced. Tough crowd, what can he say?

“Alrighty, I think that’s all of us,” Harrington’s overly cheery voice thunders somewhere from above him and Eddie, like a moth drawn to a flame, has no other option but to look up. With his hands power-posed strategically onto his sinfully slim waist and the sun positioned perfectly behind him, Steve Harrington seems to have taken it upon himself to alter Eddie’s brain chemistry, braincells leaving left and right, leaking right through his ears, never to be seen again.

“You’re drooling,” Robin’s monotone informs him from his right and he promptly slams his mouth shut, even though he knows the claim is wildly exaggerated. Buckley may be the best or the worst person he’s ever met – he desperately needs to befriend her.

“First up is the relay-race. We need four people. Anyone up?”

Harrington is met with painful silence and that does dim the cheery smile a little bit. Eddie wonders if that is where the famous King Steve comes out of the hiding, all scary sharp teeth and disregard of basic human decency. He himself stills, for once not wanting to draw any attention to himself, feeling like a student who doesn’t know the correct answer which, not to brag, if you asked Higgins or any other teacher in Hawkins High, is something Eddie excels in. Curiosity, though, is a fickle thing and he’s fallen victim to it more times than he can count, and so when the uncomfortable silence drowns on, Eddie can’t help but take a look around to meet the Team Yellow, so to speak.

Fred Benson peers at him from his thick glasses. A group of scared freshman cower together. There’s a couple of band kids other than Robin Buckley who forgone glaring at the back of Eddie’s head in order to chew on her lip nervously and stare at the ground. Not a jock in sight.

Steve Harrington couldn’t have landed a worse team if he tried. Surprisingly he doesn’t look like he’s about to piss himself over it. Huh.

“Alright, well. I volunteer myself then,” he raises his hand. “That leaves three. Hm? Come on, it’s gonna be fun!”

Eddie can’t help it. He snorts. It’s loud and ugly.

“Well, I guess we have another volunteer,” Harrington preens and Eddie has to see who is idiotic enough to- It’s him, isn’t it? Harrington pulled out the classic teacher move and Eddie fell right into the trap.

“You do not want that, Harrington,” he tells him, trying his best not to show how much the intense eye contact from the jock affects him. It does not. It affects him even less when Steve juts out his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side like a goddamn Golden Retriever.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to lose?”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about teamwork,” Harrington trudges on stubbornly, sounding eerily sincere even while basically quoting every fake-cheery pamphlet in existence. It doesn’t matter how much Eddie tries to convince him it’s a bad idea – a terrible, awful, horrible idea – he doesn’t budge an inch like the stubborn asshole that he is.

“I’ll go last,” he informs Eddie and the other two unfortunate ‘volunteers’ once they reach the track.

“Hey, Harrington,” cuts a familiar voice and there’s Hagan suddenly all up Harrington’s business. “Ready to lose?”

To his credit, all Steve does is raise one eyebrow. “Did Hargrove tell you to come here, or what?”

Eddie appreciates balls on a man, literally and metaphorically, so this cheery but assertive combo is doing things to him that he is not proud of. There is a reason he avoided Steve Harrington for most of high school, and it wasn’t only because of the King Steve jock persona. Eddie may not have a good taste in men but he does have eyes.

“Whatever, man,” Hagan finishes off their little pissing contest in the meantime, strutting right back to Billy, both arms adored by blue ribbons. Harrington’s nostrils flare with each breath before he closes his eyes for a second.  

Eddie isn’t known to make wise choices. One would argue bad decisions run in his blood, screwing things up his very own a generational pattern.

“Uh, you okay, man?”

Harrington’s eyes snap open. Eddie should have never opened his mouth. With Harrington’s intense eyes on him, he feels like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Steve smiles. Eddie is going to crush and burn any minute now.

“Yeah, sorry,” he keeps his voice light but there’s underlying tension that hasn’t been there before. His eyes appear almost glazed over when he looks over to Billy Hargrove. Eddie’s gut-instinct wants to pin the strange interaction on some jock-code that he is simply not familiar with but that’s not all there is to it. Eddie has fallen victim to the rumor mill many a time during his prolonged high school career and so he tries not to lean into them too much, even when the juicy news of a fight between the former and new king of Hawkins High broke out. One look at Harrington now and he knows, deep down, the impressive shiner on Steve’s face last fall has truthfully been Hargrove’s doing.

Doesn’t matter, really, because Harrington, emanating a true father-at-vacation energy, claps his hands together with too much enthusiasm. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Getting the show on the road, so to speak, is Abby, a freshman, who does not at all look very confident. Eddie cannot, for a fact, tell if the time passes too fast or too slow as the whistle toots and Abby is on the go, then Nigel, and then-

Eddie leans forward, bends his knees. Suddenly there’s a weight in his hand. Someone is screaming for him to ‘ go, go, go’ !

And Eddie does what he does best. He runs.

By the halfway point, his lungs are on fire, his legs feel like jello. His hair flies out of his bun and he can barely see but, he muses, he might as well try and actually finish something for once. And it’s not because Steve Harrington happens to be waiting on the other side. But maybe that’s a bonus. Who can tell?

The second his hand touches Harrington’s and passes on the stick, his legs give out from underneath him and he falls on his ass with a deeply unsatisfying thunk .

“Nice job, Munson,” says a blurry hand with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he says, or tries to, though it comes out slurred. A big swing of water helps.

“You okay?” Robin leans over him before taking a whiff of L’eau d’Eddie and promptly taking an out.

“Aw, I knew you cared, Buckley.”

“I just don’t want you to hurl all over my shoes,” she simply says.

Somehow they are not last. Eddie doesn’t know whether he helped at all or is it simply the power of Steve Harrington’s godlike legs that did all the heavy-lifting, but they finish off in second place, right after Hagan.

Eddie would never admit it out loud, not under threats of death, but it was…kind of fun. Satisfying.

“Eddie, you were amazing!” Harrington runs up to him, sweat pooling over his forehead and neck and Eddie has to stop himself from offering to lick it off.

“Hu-?”

“You never mentioned you’re this fast!”

“Because I’m not? Have you hit your head on the way here, or-?”

Something weird happens with Harrington’s face for a split second but it’s so quick Eddie doesn’t have the time to properly analyze it before he’s smiling again.  

“Not this time, no,” he forces a chuckle. “But you had fun, right?”

Eddie sighs, flops down on the ground to make it extra dramatic. Eyes closed, he reaches out with his hand to make a tiny gap between his index finger and thumb. “Maybe a little.”

A small laugh rings above him, this time genuine, and he hates how he can feel a lazy grin tug at his lips.

Eddie misses at least one round while he lays on the grass. It’s a blissful fifteen-thirty-forty minutes and he revels in it with every whiff of a colder breeze but by minute forty-two the ground doesn’t seem nearly as comfortable as it used to right after the race. The sun assaults his eyes the moment he opens them and he swiftly sits up, trying to shake off loose twigs and dry grass that have gotten entangled with his hair.

Team Yellow has seen better days. While Eddie lounged in the grass they have become a mass of sweat and red heat-swollen cheeks. Whatever disciplines he’s missed, he is glad he has. They are not last on the leaderboard, though – by what miracle, he cannot figure out.

“Eddie!” Steve Harrington, of course, has been spared the same treatment as his team. Hair slightly whipped by the wind and rosy cheeks, he looks as though he just about stepped out of a salon. A tattered yellow-white-blue volleyball sits against his hip. “Just the guy I was looking for. You willing to give it a try?”

Eddie is not.

Not under any normal-adjacent circumstances anyway but Harrington is, consciously or not, giving him his best rendition of puppy eyes. That and Eddie can feel a heated gaze located on the back of his head coming coach’s way. No matter how tempting, he cannot afford to screw this up.

So, in the driest monotone he can muster, Eddie says, “Been waitin’ for that my whole life.”

“Cool,” is all Harrington says before his achingly warm fingers wrap themselves around Eddie’s wrist and tug him towards the court. Buckley is already standing by the net, sending Eddie a miniscule smile of encouragement when he settles on her left, Harrington just behind him.

“Was worried you were a goner by now,” Gareth calls from the other side of the net, a green ribbon tied to his wrist.

“Nah, you know me, Gare-bear,” he flexes his non-existent biceps. “I'm prime material for the next super athlete.”

Someone – Harrington – chokes and coughs behind him. Eddie refuses to look, contribute to the hot and sticky flush of embarrassment that settles over his organs like slime. He has a reputation to uphold, though, so when Gareth raises his eyebrow, silently asking if he is okay – in this team, with King Steve, here and now – Eddie simply rolls his eyes and conspicuously whispers ‘Little Miss Primadonna’, their little nickname for King Steve back in the day.

He doesn’t like how instead of feeling lighter he just feels sick afterwards.

A resounding whistle starts the first set.

Eddie has forgotten how violent and competitive volleyball can get. He jumps away every time the ball comes anywhere near him, Harrington’s sweaty body miraculously appearing right there and then to save the day. It’s maybe the first time today that he can see blips of annoyance on the jock’s face but then as soon as it appears it smooths out and Steve graces him with yet another smile.

“You don’t have to be afraid of the ball,” Harrington off-handedly tells him in-between sets.

“Yeah, well, you tend to start feeling a little bit wary about it after you’ve been hit in the face a few times,” Eddie can’t help but bite back. Harrington looks sad all of a sudden, as though his friends haven’t been the ones to attempt their best at making Eddie’s face concave. He can’t help but yelp when a hairy mass – Steve’s arm – settles over his back and shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Harrington teases but there’s a sincere note in his voice. “I won’t let any balls come near you.”

Harrington – blessed, innocent, Harrington – is thankfully too straight to realize the innuendo he accidentally made but Eddie is most definitely not, face red as he mumbles under his breath ‘I mean, some balls are fine.”

Thankfully he does not hear that either.

Steve keeps his promise with surprising accuracy; no volleyball flies anywhere near Eddie and Harrington is always close by. Which should not bring as much comfort to him as it does. Especially considering Eddie still is unable to figure out why – why is Harrington this nice? Why does he care about Eddie at all? Part of him worries it’s all an act, a grand performance by one King Steve, with a grand finale that promises pain and humiliation right at the crescendo.

Nothing happens.

Well, they lose. Spectacularly. One game, then another, then a third one.

Amid this disaster and despite them being the singularly least athletic team possible, Steve Harrington remains an encouraging and patient captain. Not once does he yell or complain when the majority of the team scrambles away from the ball instead of towards it. Surprising, when Harrington has spent years under the wing of Coach Daniels as the Hawkins High very own basketball team captain.

“You’re good at this,” Eddie thinks out loud, promptly pursing his lips because he did not mean to actually say it. It is in particularly bad self-preservation taste to give a jock more ammo.

“I promised,” is all Steve says with a wink. And for a second, a blink-and-you-miss-it, his eyes go up and down along Eddie’s body, and- But that’s impossible. Harrington is not- He wouldn’t have-

It’s a preposterous cherry on the wild-buck cake he’s been offered today. There must have been a ball hurled his way at one point or another, punching him into another dimension that is similar enough yet decidedly feels a little bit off at every step. He’s rooted in his spot like the idiot that he is. What finally breaks him from the self-induced coma is what caused it in the first place - his ears catch the melodic tune of a Harrington laugh and, just like that, from feet above the ground he falls back to Earth, popping like a balloon with a gun.

For all Buckley piss-poor attempts at appearing done with it all, she sure looks chummy with Steve Harrington all of a sudden, and he does with her as well. It was foolish, stupidly childish, to assume the jock’s attention was for Eddie and Eddie alone.

Harrington pulling out his patented charm with Buckley the same way he did a second ago with Eddie feels like a light stab in his chest. What twists it is them looking Eddie’s way, red cheeks and mirth in their eyes, and letting out a short but audible laugh.

“I’m telling you, dingus.”

 “God, shut up,” but Harrington laughs as he says it, even when he elbows Robin right in the boob.

Dead-set on keeping his eyes on the ground, Eddie tries to move past them. He doesn’t get far.

“Hey, Eddie, I’m trying to convince Robin to go for tug of war,” Harrington tells him for some fucking reason.

“No way, dingus.”

“She’s stronger than she looks,” he adds, poking Buckley in the bicep-less arm. “From carrying that tuba around.”

“Trumpet.”

I haul up the amp at every Corroded Coffin show, Eddie wants to say – would that impress you?

He’s pathetic. He’s fallen from the high pedestal he self-appointed himself at – above the bullshit popularity contest and suffocating do’s and don’ts of small-town’s high school lore – right at the feet of the walking and breathing representation of everything he resents about how the world works, and-

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles.

A good smoke is exactly what Eddie needs right now. Fill his being with nothing but puffs of smoke. Students and teachers and even some parents roam around the school grounds but his trusty spot behind the gym is free of the intruders. Two cigarettes in, he refuses to feel sorry for himself any longer.

He’s not going to dwell on something that was a pipe dream to begin with. Not too long anyway. Whatever. He’s fine.

He is .

Steve seems wary of him when he gets back but he brushes it off as well as he can and gets in line behind Fred Benson instead. It’s long jump time.

“Robin’s pretty cool, right?” comes a voice behind him. Eddie yelps.

“Jesus Christ, warn a guy.”

Steve has the audacity to look a little sheepish, hand going to scratch at the back of his neck. “Sorry, man.”

Silence.

“Turns out we have some things in common,” he says, then. And stares. For a long time.

“Okay?”

What does he want Eddie to say? You have my blessing? Congrats?

Steve looks slightly discouraged from continuing his ventures but seems willing to trudge on, for whatever reason. “Maybe-“

“Munson, you’re up!”

Oh, thank God .

Eddie may not be the fastest or the strongest but he has years of avoiding bullies under his belt. That is to say, if he wants to avoid someone, he will find a way to become, well, not invisible, but unreachable at the least. It does not help that at this point he understands Harrington’s newfound obsession with him even less. Maybe for a second Eddie could have thought that – well, that doesn’t matter.  

By hour eight and with only one event left, Eddie feels pretty confident he’s going to survive the whole thing after all and not even be on the losing team somehow. That is until Coach Jenkins announces the farewell match.

“Dodgeball! Yellow against blue,” and whistles loud and clear, no room for complaints.

It all goes surprisingly well until it doesn’t. Until there’s a ball flying his way. Until he faceplants into next week.

Of course it’s Steve Harrington who insists on patching him up in the nurse’s office. “I’m the captain,” he says before anyone else can offer. Not that they were people scrambling to do so, really.

“I’m sorry,” Harrington adds when an icepack settles on the side of Eddie’s head once they arrive.

“What for? ‘Far as I can tell it wasn’t you who threw that,” Eddie narrows his eyes. “Right?”

“No, of course not, Eddie, I would never-“ Steve stops himself and Eddie wants so badly to point out that he ‘would ever’, in fact he ‘did ever’, but that would be a lie. King Steve never stooped as law as the likes of Tommy Hagan or other low-esteem high school bullies. King Steve was always above it all, too high and mighty to bother with mundane shit such as head shooting a nerd with a basketball in P.E. or offering a swirlie. Doesn’t make it right, doesn’t make him any less of an asshole for standing by and watching it happen.

But Harrington hasn’t been King Steve for a while now, has he?

It’s morally questionable. It’s confusing.

Eddie thinks he might be having a concussion.

“I promised,” Steve says instead, and Eddie is really even more convinced a visit to the ER is going to be necessary because- “That I wouldn’t let any ball come near you.”

Ah.

A strange oath to so stubbornly hang onto all things considered.

While Eddie struggles to find an appropriate response Steve decides to take it upon himself to start cleaning the scraped knee with a feather-light touch and precision that comes as a surprise. A minute stretches into five, into ten, as he works, clearing his throat at the end.

“I’ve been told that I’ve been,” he makes quotation marks in the air. “acting like a weirdo.”

“Ah. Well. Who am I to disagree with the King?” Eddie juts out his bottom lip and Steve snorts. Clamps a hand to his mouth, embarrassed, though a glint in his eyes betrays him.

“What’s so funny, Harrington?”

“Nothing. Just – I really do have a type,” Steve shrugs.

“Women that are probably too good for you?”

“Mmm, that, too, but also,” he grabs one of the loose strands that have escaped Eddie’s bun and twirls it between his fingers. Heat rushes to his ears fast and warm and he can barely make out what Steve says next. But he does and- “Cute pout. Curly hair. Beautiful brown eyes. Super smart.”

Eddie swallows. “Steve.”

“Not ‘Harrington’ anymore?”

“If this is a joke-“

“It’s not,” Steve’s hand quickly links and tugs at his. “I promise it’s not.”

“I’m a little lost, dude, not gonna lie.”

“The whole day, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re… pretty, so pretty. And Robin insisted that you like me, too,” Steve slows down, disentangles his hands from Eddie’s. “But – did I misread this? I- Don’t leave me hanging like that, man.”

Eddie can see the growing panic in Steve’s eyes, desperation in his voice. He can’t help it, his mind comes to a shattering halt.

“Wait, hold on, I- You’re being serious?” Steve nods. “Okay, shit. I-uh. Fuck.”

“This was a bad idea, wasn't it?” Steve fists his hand in his hair, making a mess of it and oh, Eddie cannot allow that, not unless he’s the one that- “I’m so sorry, Eddie-“

One hand on a grey shirt, one with rings getting tangled in-between strands of puffy hair, two pair of lips collide for just a split second. Only a quick pause follows before they are reunited again, and again, and-

“Does that mean,” Steve asks, breathless, between peppering kisses. “that you’ll go out with me?”

“Keep the kisses coming and you have yourself a deal.”

Steve leans away and smirks. Eddie can’t help the little embarrassing whine that leaves his lips. “We stopped. Why did we stop?”

“Told you it’s all about teamwork.”

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi hope it’s not to late to request yandere demon bull family , with reader having a crush on MK please 🙏

Bullfam reacts to dating MK

(Alternate Scenario)

Red Son’s reaction closely mirrors MK’s in the Monkiefam scenario, just far more severe and less quick to open up to the idea of his little sibling dating.

As the seasons go on, he’s more and more likely to grudgingly accept your relationship with the filthy, awful, empty-brained, plan-wrecking, noodle-making peasant. By season four, he’ll have a severely vitriolic view of your relationship, but will very unhappily accept that MK not only makes you happy, but also keeps you safe.

In season one? He explodes into a blind rage and temporarily switches his plans from taking over the city/world to outright killing his rival.

You sigh as you step into your room, where your brother is, but has no right to be, in your personal opinion. You feel more of a mild annoyance at him going through your things than anything else, though. He does this regularly, giving his reasons as “keeping you out of trouble” and “making sure you aren’t up to anything”.

Today is the first day after years of relentless searching that he finds something.

Red Son’s hand trembles with an emotion you can’t quite place, holding an item you can’t quite see. You peek closer, shifting to look around his shoulder.

It’s your phone, with your messages open.

And he’s looking through the chats you’ve had with MK.

“Y/N! EXPLAIN YOURSELF RIGHT NOW, YOU- YOU- YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON! HOW DARE YOU?! RUNNING AROUND WITH THE DEMON BULL FAMILY’S GREATEST ENEMY?! DO WE MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?! DO YOU NOT LOVE US? DO YOU LOVE HIM MORE THAN US?!”

He throws your phone to the ground, crushing it with a flaming foot. Then that fire begins to spread.

Flames gush freely from his hands, his eyes, his hair, all setting him alight in a brutal display of the power he wields. The fire he spews grows hotter and brighter until almost all of his body is consumed by an eye-searing light. You’re forced to turn your head and cover your eyes. There’s nothing you can do to stop him right now, and you certainly can’t go running to your parents, either.

Even if they did decide to step in and force him to stand down, it would mean revealing to them your relationship with the first and foremost obstacle to their plans and schemes. They might even go so far as to fan his fury, encouraging him as he sets off on a one-man warpath towards Megapolis, and with it, MK.

The best and safest option here is to bite the bullet and desperately apologize and start to beg for him to calm down. Tell him that you’re sorry for keeping secrets, for getting into a relationship without his knowledge or consent, for sneaking around with his rival. Tell him you’ll call the whole thing off and break up with MK if he just calms down and stops burning things, if he promises not to hurt anybody. If you cry and tremble as you make promise after promise, there’s a better chance it’ll work.

And though your pleading does slowly get through to Red Son, his anger is only ever so slightly mitigated. Shaking so fiercely that he threatens to combust once more, he grips your shoulder with just enough strength to leave a bruise and throws you into your closet, locking it behind you before stomping off to speak with his parents about what you’ve been doing.

You’re left alone, sniffling and shaking in the dark, sitting with your legs against your chest in the enclosed space.

Things are bad, already. And then you hear soft footsteps, and you know they’re about to get worse.

Thankfully for you, your mother comes to see you before your father does.

Princess Iron Fan is the calmest and most reasonable of the three, with iron-lined nerves and a perpetually composed demeanor. You’re lucky, really. If it had been your brother again, or; god forbid, your father… at least her coming here gives them both a chance to cool off from the news while she tends to you.

She slowly unlocks and opens the closet, looking down at your huddled form. Whether she looks at you with pity, reproach or disappointment is impossible to distinguish by face and body language alone.

Even when she kneels down in the closet to meet you face-to-face, her emotions are utterly indistinguishable. Your heart pounds frantically, terror mounting inside you. The red-robed demon shakes her head and sighs softly at your panicked expression, opening her arms to you.

“My poor, foolish child. Come to your mother.”

Princess Iron Fan might be evil, might be married to a would-be world conquerer, might be willing to throw children around in a fight… but she adores her family above all else. So she takes pity upon seeing your tears and brings you into a hug, letting you rest your teary eyes on her shoulder.

She’s still mad, of course. But she’ll preserve her image of you being a precious and innocent treasure that she simply must protect by shifting the majority of the blame to MK, deeming him a “bad influence”. You’re still getting locked up nice and tight in the fortress, of course. You’ll be put in a room with a door that’s too heavy for you to push open, trapping you inside even without taking into account that your parents seal it with locks both iron and arcane, just to keep you extra “safe” from someone who never posed any threat to you whatsoever.

“My naive little Y/N,” she coos into your ear with sickly-sweetness, tightening her arms around you. “Was my foolish child led astray by a petty, rebellious mortal? I had thought you were readier for the world, wiser to the tricks of it’s people… but I see now that I was wrong.”

Your heart clenches at her manipulative words, her loving but sharp tongue driving stakes into your quickly diminishing self-esteem. By framing a simple desire to grow up and develop a relationship as a severe personal failing on your end, she justifies locking you away. You can’t call her a bad person if she convinced you that it’s for your own good, after all.

She truly loves you, in spite of her manipulations. Iron Fan will be the one bringing you food and fresh clothing every morning, ensuring that you stay healthy and clean even through the long duration of your imprisonment grounding.

She sets you onto your feet, brushing off your clothes before cupping your cheek with one of her hands. “Come now. Your father wants to speak to you.”

All you can do from there is drag your feet along after her, dreading the inevitable confrontation that awaits you.

She brings you to the master room of the fortress, where the Demon Bull King awaits you, scorn leering from his eyes. She pushes you into the chamber, then shuts the iron door behind you with a powerful gust of wind, trapping you once more.

With leaden feet, you slowly walk forwards, head lowered to the ground so as to not make eye contact with your furious father. Once you stand before his throne, he leans forward.

With a long, clawed finger he reaches out to you. Carefully, he hooks his powerful and sharp nail under the bottom of your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Child,” he rumbles, his voice dangerously low and gravelly. “You have much to answer for. If I were you, I’d begin explaining… and quickly.”

Just as you did with your elder brother, and your mother soon after him, you take the most peaceful option you can, and try to placate. If it was just Red Son that was angry at you, you could run to your parents for sanctuary. If it was only Demon Bull King, you could seek out your mother and beg her to soothe his rage. Now that all of your family is enraged or upset, you have nowhere to run, no one to turn to.

“I… I’m sorry, father. I have no excuse.”

You do, actually. That excuse being that you’ve lived hundreds of years right beside them and have proven both your strength and maturity time and time again. Still, they treat you like a child and insist on hiding you away from the world and everyone within it.

“Please give me a chance to earn your forgiveness.”

You don’t want his forgiveness. You want your family to understand that you’ve grown up, enough that you have an interest in romantic relationships. You don’t want to have to fight to get them to acknowledge your feelings and desires.

Your father stares down at you with icy eyes, huffing and snarling. You know he wouldn’t truly harm you, of course. None of your family would. The mild bruise Red Son gave you just a short while ago was the worst any of them had ever hurt you , and even that was probably unintentional.

DBK leans back on his throne, unhanding your chin. Still, his eyes never leave yours, boring right through you.

“I see,” he says, his voice heavily guarded. “I see what the problem is.” The giant demon folds his arms as he rises from his throne, towering above you.

“You’ve been given too much room to roam, it seems. I have been gone for so long that you have forgotten the Bull clan’s mission.”

He raises his fist high, then swings it against the wall to sound a brutal clang that echoes through the room and causes your ears to painfully ring as you recoil.

“We are demons! We conquer, destroy, and rule! None stand in our way! We do not lower ourselves to commingle with mortals! We rise above the rabble, and crush them under our heels when they dare to resist!”

“Do you understand, Y/N?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat is painful, but you force yourself to do so anyways. If you want to soothe the anger you’ve inspired throughout your parents and brother, then you have to take the high road and play nice for your own sake.

Not only for your own sake, but for MK’s as well. Their anger is directed between the both of you, after all. Assuaging it is the easiest way to keep him safe. With that in mind, there’s only one thing you can say.

“Yes, father.”

[allaboutnayeli]

the fall of the mountain [a.thompson x reader]

prompt: the pressure of being a pro gets to alyssa and her way of expressing that comes out more aggressive than it should. good thing you are here for her.

author notes: had to write something for my #2 wifey in the uswnt, so thank you to the person who asked for alyssa angst+comfort and fuck you to tumblr for making me delete that ask. hope y'all enjoy this!

alyssa's hands are clenching tightly on the steering wheel as she drives. you can see her poking her tongue though her cheek which is one of her many habits when she is stressed. you two just came from an angel city game with alyssa obviously being a starter for the game and you being there to help a seasoned journalist to cover the game. it was apart of your internship to help out and edit sports pieces.

the game didn't go the way angel city wanted with the portland thorns beating them six to four. you can just see the wheels spinning in alyssa's head about what she could have done to prevent the win; why she couldn't find another opportunity to secure a goal.

"we can stop and get takeout if you want? my treat," you say quietly. testing the waters to see how badly your girlfriend was feeling. she is silent for a moment until y'all reach a red light, looking over at you. "i don't really care so.." she shrugs before going back to focusing on the road. her words are so nonchalant and cold. they make you frown, but you hold out on asking her about her feelings for when you two reach her apartment.

the interaction settling in your mind as you press the chinese food place number and hold up the phone to your ear.

after getting the food, arriving at alyssa's place, and eating the food, your girlfriend still hasn't said more than two words to you. thank you is the only thing she said once you paid and got the food earlier.

the silence from her is starting to get concerning, so you decide it's time for you to get a peek into her mind.

"lyss, can you just talk to me?" you say as you place a hand on her leg. she's sitting beside you on the couch and all her attention is focused on whatever netflix show is playing on the tv. the american player moves away from your touch, giving you a quick glance. "talk to you about what?" alyssa murmurs.

"you know what. the game, how you're feeling, why you're being so cold to me..." you try to scoot closer to her, but once again she moves away. that annoys you so much that you sigh heavily.

"there is nothing to talk about," alyssa replies. the lack of expression sitting on her face doesn't her eyes. you can see the regret and sadness swirling around in her eyes. seeing her so closed off makes you feel so frustrated. not with her, but more with the unknown reason she is feeling that way that she isn't telling you. "obviously it is if you are acting like this" you snap at her. the words come out before you could even think.

alyssa stands before glaring at you, "acting like what? you're mad at me because i won't talk to you about the game? this isn't some press conference, so honestly i don't have to tell you shit!"

you are taken back by her words, standing up to meet her face to face. "i'm not asking from a reporter standpoint. i'm asking as your girlfriend cause you know partners tell each other things instead of acting all moody like a toddler!" you shout back at her. half of the words you say you don't even mean but being treated like you basically don't exist since the game isn't helping you act rational.

alyssa and you go back & forth for several more minutes. each sentence said being a shot at the other. the loss of the game is weighing down on alyssa's mind as she voices out all her anger at you and you aren't being much better. giving back your girlfriend just as much aggression.

"you wouldn't understand anything about what i have to go through. you're just some college student right now and i'm out here playing infront of thousands of people, it's not the same!" she says before finally storming out of the living room and down the hall to her bedroom. you still stand in the living room not even sure of what to do. the heat of the moment cools down and finally you realize how shitty what just happened was. you and alyssa just had a bad argument right after a game loss that you knew alyssa was feeling bad about it.

you walk around the couch to go to the counter, grabbing the keys to alyssa's car and leaving out of the door. on your way to buy a few things to make up for the argument. hopefully alyssa is ready to apologize too when you come back

when you come back to the apartment it's around ten. a small bouquet of flowers along with alyssa's favorite candy are in your hands as you walk inside and close the door shut with your body. you slip your shoes off before walking to alyssa's bedroom. the only sound in the apartment being the tv that was left on from earlier and your footsteps.

the door to the bedroom is slightly left open so it's easy for you to just walk in. frowning once you see alyssa laying under her blankets, a vanilla scented candle burning on her desk. that's the only light in the room as you walk inside. sitting down beside her.

"lyss?" you say softly as you look at her. she is still not facing you, but you can tell she is awake.

"hm?" she mumbles.

"can you face me, baby?"

the american player turns over, letting out a small smile as she spots the goodies in your hands. you sit down the candy on the bed before giving her the bouquet of tulips. "thank you..." alyssa says softly as she accepts the flowers. turning back around to set them aside on the nightstand before coming back to face you. instead of laying down, she sits up so you two are actually at the same face level.

you decide to apologize first, "i'm sorry for snapping at you and all the things i said while we were arguing. i didn't mean any of it, i was just so frustrated you were closing yourself off to me."

alyssa sighs heavily before speaking, "no, i'm the one who should be sorry. you were right when you said we are supposed to tell each other our problems. i didn't mean not one thing i said, you aren't just some college student. you're going places, y/n.." she looks at you to see how you are reacting before continuing, "it's just.. i feel like i don't deserve any of this. i couldn't even help get another goal in the net."

hearing the loathing in alyssa's tone makes you pull her close. all the feelings that have been building up in alyssa's chest since the end of the match spill out as she lets the tears that have been waiting in her eyes out. you rub gentle circles on her back as she cries into your shoulder.

"i was the number one pick from the draft, but it doesn't feel like it. sometimes i feel like i don't play like it. than it's not just games, but we have press conferences after and i have to sit in a chair with a bunch of reporters asking questions that i feel too tired to even answer. it's just all too much," she says into your shoulder. you stay silent, just letting her get everything out. in that moment you realize just how different the amount of pressure is on you compared to alyssa. when she fails, there are hundreds of eyes that follow. when you fail, it's your own personal hurdle.

you two just enjoy the embrace of one another for a few more moments with alyssa still sniffling a bit. once you hear her go silent, you pull back just enough to look at her. the american player just tries to lean back onto you, but you keep her away.

you hold her face in your hands, looking at the tear stains on that gorgeous face of hers. "you know you're a great player, baby. everyone else can see it too, that's why you were the number one pick right out of highschool and that's why you were called up for the national team. that's why people expect so much from you," you chuckle as alyssa starts to let out a shy smile. "however that doesn't mean you have to hold all this weight on your shoulders. i'm here for you, your teammates are here for you, and your family is too. everything is a team effort, lyss, so don't ever blame just yourself" you let go of her face before pulling her back into your arms.

she laughs into your shoulder as she holds onto you. "now i feel like that argument was so stupid," alyssa says.

"i mean duh but something good came out of it so it's whatever" you say back. alyssa pulls you down onto the pillows and you happily let her. smiling as she nuzzles up to your neck. "yeah.. well, that was too much crying for one day. i'm sleepy.." she mumbles, seemly already half asleep. you don't realize how exhausted you are until alyssa mentions her own sleepiness, so you just fall silent and let yourself drift off to sleep too.